Ancient Egyptian Administration (Handbook of Oriental Studies: Section 1; The Near and Middle East) 9004249524, 9789004249523

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Ancient Egyptian Administration

Handbook of Oriental Studies Handbuch der Orientalistik Section 1, Ancient Near East Editor-in-Chief

W.H. van Soldt (Leiden) Editors

G. Beckman (Ann Arbor) C. Leitz (Tübingen) P. Michalowski (Ann Arbor) P. Miglus (Heidelberg)

VOLUME 104

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/hdo

Ancient Egyptian Administration Edited by

Juan Carlos Moreno García

Leiden  • boston 2013

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Ancient Egyptian administration / edited by Juan Carlos Moreno García.    pages cm. — (Handbook of oriental studies = Handbuch der Orientalistik. Section 1, ancient Near East, ISSN 0169-9423 ; v 104)  ISBN 978-90-04-24952-3 (hardback : alk. paper)   1. Egypt—Politics and government—To 332 B.C. 2. Bureaucracy—Egypt—History. I. Moreno García, Juan Carlos, author, editor of compilation. DT85.A63 2013 932’.01—dc23

2012049894

ISSN  0169-9423 ISBN  978-90-04-24952-3 (hardback) ISBN  978-90-04-25008-6 (e-book) Copyright 2013 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers and Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper.

To the memory of Jesús María Jiménez Jiménez (6 June 1942–5 August 1985)

contents The Study of Ancient Egyptian Administration  ...........................   Juan Carlos Moreno García The Organisation of a Nascent State: Egypt until the Beginning of the 4th Dynasty  ......................................................   Eva-Maria Engel The Central Administration of the Resources in the Old Kingdom: Departments, Treasuries, Granaries and Work Centers  . ................................................................................   Hratch Papazian The Territorial Administration of the Kingdom in the 3rd Millennium  ..............................................................................   Juan Carlos Moreno García

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Kings, Viziers, and Courtiers: Executive Power in the Third Millennium B.C.  ............................................................................. 153   Miroslav Bárta The Administration of the Royal Funerary Complexes  . ............. 177   Hana Vymazalová Balat, a Frontier Town and Its Archive  . ........................................ 197   Laure Pantalacci Setting a State Anew: The Central Administration from the End of the Old Kingdom to the End of the Middle Kingdom  ............................................................................ 215   Wolfram Grajetzki The Royal Command (wd̠-nsw): A Basic Deed of Executive Power   ............................................................................ 259   Pascal Vernus

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Nomarchs and Local Potentates: The Provincial Administration in the Middle Kingdom  ................................................................ 341   Harco Willems The Organisation of the Pharaonic Army (Old to New Kingdom)  ............................................................................... 393   Anthony Spalinger Categorisation, Classification, and Social Reality: Administrative Control and Interaction with the Population  ........................... 479   Katalin Anna Kóthay Crisis and Restructuring of the State: From the Second Intermediate Period to the Advent of the Ramesses  ............... 521   JJ Shirley The Rising Power of the House of Amun in the New Kingdom  .......................................................................................... 607   Ben Haring Coping with the Army: The Military and the State in the New Kingdom  . ............................................................................... 639   Andrea M. Gnirs The Administration of Institutional Agriculture in the New Kingdom  . ............................................................................... 719   Sally L.D. Katary A Bureaucratic Challenge? Archaeology and Administration in a Desert Environment (Second Millennium B.C.E.)  . ......... 785   John Coleman Darnell The Ramesside State  . ......................................................................... 831   Pierre Grandet Administration of the Deserts and Oases: First Millennium B.C.E.  ......................................................................... 901   David Klotz



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From Conquered to Conqueror: The Organization of Nubia in the New Kingdom and the Kushite Administration of Egypt  . .......................................................................................... 911   Robert Morkot The Saite Period: The Emergence of a Mediterranean Power  . ..... 965   Damien Agut-Labordère The ‘Other’ Administration: Patronage, Factions, and Informal Networks of Power in Ancient Egypt  . ...................... 1029   Juan Carlos Moreno García Index  .....................................................................................................   Kings and Queens  ..........................................................................  Divinities  . ........................................................................................  Individuals  .......................................................................................   Toponyms  . ......................................................................................   Egyptian Words and Selected Titles  ...........................................   Thematic Index  ...............................................................................

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The study of ancient Egyptian administration Juan Carlos Moreno García The study of ‘Egyptian administration’ during the Pharaonic period raises both a structural and a methodological problem. In the first case, it may appear to presuppose the existence of certain overarching structural principles pervading the entire history of Pharaonic Egypt, as if the basic mechanisms underlying the organization of the bureaucracy and the implementation of governmental decisions were constant and stable, with an absolute monarch at the top of the administrative hierarchy and an army of efficient, all-controlling scribes at the base. However, such an illusion risks perpetuating the myth of ‘eternal Egypt’ and its allegedly unchanging organization over the millennia, and thus providing a prêt-à-porter narrative where any historical dynamism remains dwarfed by the overwhelming continuity of the Egyptian state. However, ‘continuity’ is not synonymous with ‘similarity’, and any study of Egyptian administration should be attentive to the disruptions, innovations, changes in the balance of power, and limits in the exercise of executive power (including corruption), all of which hamper the administrative stability of any state, ancient or modern. All the more so in the case of ancient Egypt, which passed through several cycles of expansion and contraction of the state and its political apparatus, but which, quite significantly, never suffered the consolidation of any alternative, durable ‘feudal’ power capable of contesting and replacing the authority of the state when the united monarchy collapsed. This has important consequences at the methodological level. Having in mind the well-rooted image of ancient Egypt as a paradigmatic bureaucratic, almost ‘despotic’ society, it may be tempting to ascribe to its administrative structure qualities and characteristics typical of such structures in modern societies. Nevertheless, such an anachronistic approach can hardly prove appropriate in the context of a Bronze/Iron Age society. Well-defined powers, hierarchies, activities, and spheres of intervention between officials and between administrative divisions may in fact turn out to be rather illusory. Even worse, the mere fact of focusing our analysis on these alleged characteristics, and in

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so doing taking their existence for granted, risks underestimating the ­significance of key factors, like patronage, informal networks of power and authority, proximity to the king and the court, the self-interests of potentates and institutions, even the possession of individual organizational skills, which may have been decisive in the promotion of both careers and of transversal interventions, with the effect that the boundaries between hierarchies and areas of competence become blurred. The use of documents might also become rather selective and limited to certain activities (accounting, records of property and transactions, letters with instructions), while in other cases it might be less systematic or rely more heavily on oral procedures and ad hoc decisions than on formal procedures (the case of the administration of justice being the most evident case in view). Even the border between ‘public’ and ‘private’ might be rather difficult to establish, especially in the case of activities carried out by powerful dignitaries who, in some cases, mobilized their own resources in order to discharge the duties typical of the posts they held. Overlapping activities, relying on the support or the acquiescence of powerful patrons and local authorities, royal favor, duplication of channels of authority (official and informal ), corruption and bribery, are also inseparable aspects of ancient bureaucracies. Consequently, the myth of an overwhelming, exceptionally efficient, all-encompassing bureaucracy requires a considerable amount of clarification, and the same can be said for the idea of the Pharaoh and state as sources of unlimited authority and unfettered executive power. Traditional interpretations of Pharaonic history and organization have tended to over-emphasize the extent and efficiency of the royal government to the point that it appears surprisingly unique in history, thereby fuelling the enduring myth of the alleged ‘Egyptian exception’. Nevertheless, more recent historical interpretations tend to support an alternative and contrary view. From this perspective, the limits imposed by communication difficulties, deeply entrenched local powers, and dense social networks virtually impenetrable to outsiders, coupled with a relative scarcity of means and a lack of interest in local matters by the central government, should have limited the role of the state and its apparatus of power, too distant and inefficient to have any real impact on local affairs and provincial social organization. Such a view, inspired by the study of colonial experiences, may explain the conditions prevailing in dominated areas, while at the same time be wholly irrelevant to the reality within the mother countries themselves. Moreover, this view ignores the fact that the resources at the



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disposal of the state (economic, social, political, symbolic) enabled it to ­interfere with, modify, and, in the end, to shape local constituencies of elites and, consequently, to effect a shift in the local balance of power to its own advantage. Finally, what appears superficially to be loose control over subject territories may in fact turn out to be the manifestation of an astute political choice to show respect towards local elites, whose support and collaboration were essential in order to preserve the imperial structure. What results from the analysis of the scope and intensity of the ancient Egyptian administration is that it evolved within a framework consisting of genuine executive possibilities, royal initiatives, and preexisting in situ interests, sometimes instigated by self-serving institutions or divisions within the administration itself, whose members sought greater autonomy irrespective of any raison d’état. Royal decrees are a useful illustration of the strategies at stake, especially when dispositions repeatedly enacted suggest that their actual implementation met with resistance and interests reluctant to carry out the measures promoted. In other cases, the renewal of privileges and rewards granted to certain institutions by means of a succession of decrees reveals that some kind of protest, usurpation, or interference was expected or, at least, remained a latent possibility, while the actual efficiency and legitimacy that such royal orders conveyed was considered temporary and in constant need of reinforcement. It is for this reason that, from a historical point of view, reforms and royal initiatives should be analyzed within the governmental and political context and possibilities of their time. Of course, the scarcity of Egyptian sources means that such a desideratum remains almost unattainable. Yet it should nevertheless be kept in mind, and this in order to avoid granting to Pharaonic power capacities a degree of political efficacy that could be at odds with the rather limited scope for their actual implementation. To put it in another way, royal reforms and decrees did not take place in a political vacuum devoid of any form of resistance or competing interests, as if the royal will ruled absolutely and would be carried out immediately and efficiently by means of a perfect chain of command. Königsnovelle and iconography convey an ideal, unrealistic image of sovereignty surely quite different from day-to-day realities. The famous assertion by general Piankh at the end of the 20th dynasty is a good illustration of such contrast: “as for Pharaoh—life, prosperity, health—whose superior is he after all?”. As for Bay, the powerful chancellor of pharaoh Siptah, he boasted in an inscription

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about his king-making abilities: “he who put the king [on] the throne of his father”. Such a balanced approach can prove to be quite valuable in the analysis of governmental reforms, especially with the realization that they constitute invaluable evidence concerning the interests, goals, structure, and balance of power within Egyptian society at a given moment and, especially, among the ruling elite (or, at least, its dominant sectors, i.e., those which are best documented). The impact of such reforms is obvious in aspects like the allocation of resources and the structure of the elite itself (it may be useful to consider such facets as the resistance encountered by other actors in social and political life, the co-opting of emerging and formerly neglected sectors of the elite, the search for new allies, deeper intervention in areas previously ignored, etc.). Such measures had the potential to alter the global hierarchy and organization of bureaucracy significantly at any given moment, depending on the needs of the state, the limits of its authority, and the current balance of power. The language in which they were couched in the limited documentary record available (depending on the dominant cultural traditions and values at a given time) can be a significant source of trouble for modern researchers, especially if political conflict was expressed in, say, religious terms. For example, should the Amarna episode be interpreted as an exclusively religious reform and as proof of a particular royal initiative? Or, rather, should it be seen as a genuine and rare sign of deep-seated change in the interests and the balance of power between competing sectors within the ruling elite, and even between regions, expressed in new and original terms, from which only the artistic and religious results have survived? Governmental reforms thus provide a further argument against the view that ancient Egyptian administration was a monolithic, essentially unchanging structure over the centuries. Rather, a social, political, historical, and diachronic perspective is indispensable in any analysis, even within individual, well-defined historical periods like, say, the Old or the New Kingdom. Another limit to the efficiency of the bureaucracy was that the accumulation of reforms, the creation of new divisions, the incorporation of new sectors of the elite into the governmental apparatus, and the expansion of the court and its factions could lead to a gradual paralysis in decision-making and to the emergence of autonomous institutions and spheres of influence more concerned with their own immediate interests than with the effectiveness and the smooth working capacity



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of the entire system. In fact, administrative complexity could give rise to three undesired consequences in the long term. First, an increasingly dense structure of divisions, functions, and officials might slow the circulation of information, burden the chain of command, limit the capacity of reaction, and promote duplication of responsibilities, thus complicating decision-making and hindering both the exercise of authority and the implementation of administrative decisions. Second, the development of the administration could also bring about the consolidation of institutions and groups of power jealous of their own prerogatives, concerned primarily with their own institutional interests, and thus leading to the consolidation of autonomous spheres of power within the structure of the state. Finally, as the structures became denser, the interest in showing mutual respect (in order to avoid conflicts and intrusions by nearby spheres) also increased and could lead to the gradual slowing down and eventual standstill of the whole system. New divisions and new appointments would only exacerbate the problems they intended to solve. The fact of Egypt’s complex bureaucratic organization, so often considered as proof of efficiency, can thus be seen to be rather misleading and may in fact point to increasing difficulties in the exercise of power and authority. In this respect, factions and titles take on new significance. Conflicts involving the murder of the king are not infrequent in the literary and administrative records, and the cases of Teti, Amenemhat I, and Ramesses III are good examples from different periods. Also examples of usurpers, even of trials of queens, are attested in Egyptian sources, and the establishment of the 6th dynasty provides a good case in point involving trouble in the court, the incorporation of provincial magnates into the central administration, the destitution of senior palace officers and a ‘dynastic’ marriage policy linking the royal family to powerful potentates in both Memphis and the nomes. Such evidence provides for a more accurate glimpse into the realities of power and court life, with competing factions of nobles and pretenders to the throne vying for power. Nevertheless, it is also possible that, at a deeper level, such conflicts point to diverging interests among the members of the ruling elite concerning specific policies to follow. The consequences for the administration would involve strategic aspects like influencing the appointment of high dignitaries in key positions, seeking close access to the king, building networks of officials connected to key institutions, supporting certain candidates to the throne, and so on. But those very conflicts may also have involved the periodic reorganization

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of government priorities and royal policies, which necessarily left their mark on the administrative structure and in the organization of elites, but which, quite unfortunately, have left almost no trace in the ­official record. For instance, the official incorporation of provincial magnates into the administrative structure of the kingdom from the very end of the 5th dynasty on was accompanied by the development of the governmental apparatus in the nomes (creation of the function of overseer of Upper Egypt, development of the network of royal administrative and economic centers called ḥ wt), and by marriages between kings and ladies of provincial background, thus making it difficult to imagine that these events were not closely related. Another example is the Amarna episode, followed by the rise of the army as a powerful institution, the foundation of a new capital in the Eastern Delta, and the resumption of an aggressive military policy in the Levant, a policy which, at least apparently, departed from that followed by Amenhotep III and Akhenaton. As for titles, their nature has been debated, as has the distinction between ‘titles of function’ and ‘titles of rank’. Such a distinction might prove again rather misleading, suggesting as it does that titles of function involved a true cursus honorum, whereas titles of rank and honorific titles granted no real executive power. The illusion that the Pharaonic bureaucracy was an almost perfect instrument of government, and that divisions like the Double Granary or the Double Treasury worked like modern governmental departments, with precise powers and administrative hierarchies, may underlie such interpretations. In fact, it is safer to assume that titles, especially in the case of high dignitaries, only approximately convey the extent of the authority and power wielded by their holders and that a combination of the two sets of titles expresses not only the activities effectively carried out, but also the actual authority borne by their holders, their position at the court, their closeness to the king, their proximity to the most influential ruling faction of the elite, their degree of implication in court rituals and feasts, and the network of officials to which they belonged. Thus, even the most apparently banal of titles, such as ‘hairdresser of the king’, still implies a closeness to the Pharaoh that could have made their holders ideal intermediaries between the king and the inner court, and perhaps also influential in decision-making. In other cases, reliability, experience, loyalty, and appropriate family, patronage, and courtly links could have provided an official with significant administrative authority and influence well beyond the actual titles he held. In fact, it



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should be remembered that ancient Egypt was a pre-industrial monarchy, in which royal favor, proven skill, and good connections probably played a greater role than an official cursus honorum. The processions of officials depicted, for instance, in the funerary temple of Pepy II usually employ a rather limited set of courtly prestige titles in order to present their holders and to place them within the palatial ruling elite, instead of evoking the designations of their day-to-day administrative activities. Stephen Quirke has convincingly shown in his studies that certain titles corresponded to specific tasks, while others indicated a position within broad branches and areas of the administration; additional titles (like quarry titles) were used only in seasonal activities and are found nowhere else, and still others appear only in administrative papyri, but not on monuments or in the epigraphic record. The evolving meaning of individual titles must be also considered. Not only could the taste for archaism and titles no longer in use for centuries have deprived them of their original meaning and function, but so too could they be used as a source of prestige in a completely new context. They could even be employed as programmatic expressions of an ideal return to a glorious past, especially after periods of political turmoil and division. Consequently, the deliberate reintroduction of old titles conveyed the potent ideological message that an efficient state apparatus was in the process of reestablishment, so as to demonstrate that the new administrative system being put in place was the direct heir of the ordered world of the past to be imitated. This explains why some titles reappeared in the course of history, usually associated with an intentional use of archaic language and formulae, as well as with imitations of former epigraphic styles and the emulation of the art of the historical period chosen as a prestigious precedent for present times, as happened during the Saite Period. In other cases, the changes in meaning of some titles refer to completely different activities while retaining the basic sense of reliability and proximity to the king. Such is the case of the title ‘son of the king’, which marked a special courtly status in Old Kingdom times, only to be held by military officials in key localities loyal to the Theban kings during the Second Intermediate Period. Titles related to very specific tasks and divisions (say, ‘Overseer of the Granary’) may prove to be more precise but, once again, only the general administrative and governmental context provides a reliable key for understanding the scope, real activities, links to other administrative divisions, and position within the overall administrative structure of their holders at a given moment.

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Ranks, honorific titles, and court titles raise similar problems. To begin with, such a classification is a modern and rather arbitrary one, as it simply implies that it is difficult to ascribe them functionally well-defined and immediately evident tasks, for which reason they are relegated to the confused category of ‘honorific’ and ‘rank’ titles, which, it is assumed, stand in stark contrast to titles of function, which are reputedly more accurate. This, of course, could only be valid if the organization of the Egyptian court, the subtle hierarchies ranking their members alongside formal and informal channels of power and authority, even the quality and nature of the power (in a very broad sense) inherent to each specific title, were sufficiently understood. Once again, the problem of power and authority in a pre-industrial society is probably more linked to personal connections, patronage, and proximity to the king than to the display of a full array of titles and honors perhaps devoid of any real meaning. It is for this reason that the meaning of many titles is rather difficult to translate in precise terms. Thus the title ḥ ¡tj-ʿ was bestowed upon high dignitaries in Old Kingdom times, only to designate some kind of local authority towards the end of the 3rd millennium, before finally becoming a synonym of ‘mayor’, governor of a locality, during the 2nd millennium. Other titles, like jrj pʿt, convey the notion of being part of the royal family and of the high elite of the kingdom, but the precise meaning still remains shadowy. Preference for the employment of titles like smr w ʿtj ‘Unique Friend’ on many private monuments and in the scenes on royal mortuary temples, instead of other designations perhaps more glamorous from our point of view, also suggests that it nevertheless conveyed highly regarded honorific nuances, difficult for us to define precisely, but of sufficient significance for their holders to be numbered among the elite. Judging from the biographies of many dignitaries, it involved some kind of formation in the capital, in the context of the pr nzwt ‘the house of the king’, and it represented the first step towards a career of a certain importance. Not surprisingly, its display in, say, a provincial environment could be charged with a highly symbolic and honorific ethos, making it preferable to the use of other ostensibly more important titles. In other cases, Quirke has stressed that titles like h̠rj-ḥ b ‘lector-priest’, when used in provincial environments, also conveyed notions that went beyond the ritual sphere, so as to mark literacy and membership in the intelligentsia. These nuances are rather difficult to trace and define, but nevertheless played an important role in the use of titles and in the self-presentation of officials.



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But titles and officials are only one aspect of Egyptian administration, and it would be a mistake to ignore the fact that power and administrative capacities were also held by informal authorities, whose collaboration with the administration was essential for the operation of the system. Local potentates, governors of villages, ‘patrons’, ‘big men’, chiefs, and men of influence were necessary intermediaries on behalf of the crown and its agents when dealing with local affairs, like implementing orders emanating from the court to evaluate local resources, to mobilize manpower, or to quell protests or forestall potential resistance. The organization of teams of workers in Old and Middle Kingdom times reveals that, in many cases, the manpower came from the domains and districts controlled by such powerful men. In other cases, they provided the means necessary to cultivate the crown or temple fields in a given area. However, the fact that they were not members of the administration, and that in many cases they probably lacked any formal scribal training, made it difficult for them to produce written evidence or to have access to the prestige monuments and goods which symbolized the fact of being part of the ruling elite. A related problem is that the sophisticated cultural values dominant among officials and members of the court were also alien to them, especially in the local environment where they lived, worked, and exerted their influence. Thus it is quite difficult to find any trace of them in the archaeological record, as they were not buried in the cemeteries of the high elite and they did not usually own statues, decorated tombs, inscribed objects, or the kind of precious items produced by royal or highly specialized workshops and proudly displayed by dignitaries, courtiers, and high officials. But they nevertheless constituted an ‘invisible’ sub-elite, only marginally evoked in texts and, in some occasions, visible thanks to the exceptional possession of monuments usually reserved for the elite. They represented the ‘other’ administration and any study of the Egyptian administration would be incomplete without referring to them. This leads to another common assumption about ancient Pharaonic administration, the widespread use of writing and documents, as well as the existence of some kind of ‘administrative rationality’ comparable to our own. So, for instance, it has been posited that a true justice system was operative in ancient Egypt, a system which included specific divisions, appointed judges, adhered to formal procedures, and produced juridical documents. In fact nothing proves that it was the case, and what some Egyptologists call somewhat abusively

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“justice department” and “judge” corresponds, in fact, to dignitaries whose authority also enabled them to settle disputes and form courts, thus acting as ad hoc ‘judges’ and justice courts, while the so-called “justice departments” were concerned instead with a much broader set of ­administrative responsibilities, from collecting information and settling conflicts to advising. Ramesside examples, like the trial of Mose, the murder conspiracy against Ramesses III, or the investigation of the royal tomb robberies, are good illustrations of the usual procedure followed when administering justice. In other cases, the documentary record shows that officials, even queens, were taken to the vizier’s office in order to ensure that their trial be adjudicated by a trusted official and not by a formal ‘judge’. As for evidence for a widespread use of documents, as may be inferred from some inscriptions, it should be remembered that famous cases like that of Mose (and the ability of the parties involved to produce documentary proof supporting their respective claims) are perhaps exceptional because of the very particular nature of the dispute (a royal donation of land, probably being considered crown land, to a military ancestor as reward for his services, a transaction that was probably subject to careful scribal scrutiny), not because judicial archives were commonly preserved over centuries. The rarity of true contracts until later periods in Pharaonic history, as well as the fact that writing was usually restricted to transactions and records between members of the elite (like wills, jmjt-pr acts, sales of property, not to mention priestly and governmental positions, private archives, and letters), suggest that the use of documents, even within the administrative sphere, was rather selective. From this perspective it is not surprising that the wider use of writing in private ordinary activities in the 1st millennium (land leases, matrimonial contracts, wills, etc.) nevertheless continued to be rare and restricted to the elite, to the point that some of them were recorded in stone but in cursive writing (like sales of tombs, donations of fields, and people’s self-sale into serfdom). In other cases oral claims had the same value as written documents (as expressed in some clauses in abnormal hieratic and early demotic sales and leases of land, etc., referring to potential demands against the buyer). Quite significantly, legal documents involving the sale of a piece of land include not only the ‘contract’ strictly speaking but also the complete story of the field (list of previous owners, transactions, divisions of the land, etc.), with the aim of clearing up any legal doubt about the property rights of the buyer; that such practice would be later replaced, under Ptolemaic



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rule, by formalized notarial procedures (as official archive-keeping and legal validation of private transactions) reveals, in contrast, the rather elementary nature of legal confirmation in previous Pharaonic times, when contracts were primarily matters of the private sphere, with little official interference, relying heavily on oral information (like lists of witnesses). In the event of conflict, from the late 2nd millennium on, oracles, not legal procedures, were usually invoked. What is more, in those cases in which detailed administrative archives have survived in sufficient quantities (e.g., royal mortuary cults of the Old and Middle Kingdom, inventories of fields and taxes in the New Kingdom, etc.), it seems that only very specific activities involved a consistent and abundant use of documents, mainly concerning reckoning, classifying, and storing selective data (e.g., inventories, lists and records of priestly or other services, stages of boats for tax collecting, etc.), complemented by letters giving precise instructions about how to act in specific situations. As stated before, royal decrees were intended to regulate activities and implement governmental measures, often to confirm decisions enacted by former decrees. This points once more to the somewhat precarious nature of administrative decision-making, when turning directly to the king instead of invoking formerly produced documents was preferred (or necessary) in order to assert authority, to solve misinterpretations, and to confirm previous decisions. Once again, formal procedures, well defined hierarchies, spheres of authority, and domains of activity seem to a great extent to have been alien to the current Egyptian administrative organization, thus leaving plenty of scope to personal initiatives and oral agreements in an overwhelmingly illiterate world. Even the formal training and competence of scribes could be rather primitive and consist mostly of the ability to collect and record very specific pieces of information but without a thorough knowledge of writing, as the Old Kingdom archive of Balat shows. The common practice of washing papyri for their reuse, the abandonment of the diplomatic archive known as the Amarna Letters once the settlement was deserted, and the abundant discarded papyri and ostraca at Deir el-Medina, also reveal the fragile nature of true archives once the immediate utility of the documents vanished. That control and storage of information was rather selective fits well with an administrative organization where personal skill and contacts were more important than fixed hierarchies, where the circulation of information was not quite fluid, and where decentralization was inevitable because of distance, the influence of local authorities and networks

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of power, and the relatively scarce number of trained scribes (perhaps about one to two percent of the total population). Consequently, the control and management of resources was inefficient (from our contemporary perspective), but probably sufficient in a pre-modern state, where the stability of any central government depended on collaboration between the central/palatial elite and local powers and on the mutual respect of their own interests and spheres of authority. Of course, the volume of resources that the Pharaonic administration was able to mobilize was certainly impressive, but it had also to cope with well-documented practices of (at least in some cases) more-or-less tolerated corruption, abuses of power, and informal networks of power able to turn resources aside. Nevertheless the political importance of such practices is obvious. All of them represented informal channels of authority, remuneration, and redistribution of wealth, provided that they did not run counter to the fundamental economic, political, and symbolic interests of the ruling elite and the central administration (once again the case of the tomb robberies is quite representative). The tolerance towards these informal channels was probably a prerequisite for gaining the support of local authorities, of powerful factions of the elite, of local populations or, more generally, for making the system function. In a somewhat cynic way, such ‘irregular practices’ can be reinterpreted as a peculiar and probably inevitable form of reinvestment of resources greasing fidelities, alliances, and service to the king. Mentions of corruption are quite frequent in Egyptian sources, but it would be overly simplistic to regard them only in terms of inefficiency and decadence. Their importance for the continuity and stability of the kingdom, for the cohesion of the ruling elite, and for the adherence of more or less significant sectors of the population to their rulers should not be underestimated. This also made it possible to increase tax pressure when needed because, as stated before, resources incorrectly estimated in administrative accounts, diverted by rapacious agents, or simply stored up in temples and domains, were not completely inaccessible to zealous agents of the king. Thus the control and management of resources in a pre-modern state followed a logic not always comparable to that of modern (mainly) Western states. Their efficiency should then be judged not in narrow terms of (contemporary) competence and rationality, but in their contribution to the (re)establishment and stability of power in the long run. Even today, when modern technologies allow for an exhaustive measurement and control of wealth, fiscal evasion and informal economic



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activities remain common ­practices. They are often morally unjustifiable and economically irrational, but sometimes rational, even necessary, in political terms. Administration always depends on politics. And, even in modern times practical realities may differ greatly from the solemn juridical principles and practices invoked, thus making it necessary to avoid a narrow juridical perspective which has contributed, especially in the past, to the view that the Pharaonic administration was an almost perfect machinery led by specialists and inspired by the quest for the maat. Such characteristics seem more evident in light of New Kingdom documents, when temples appear as true managerial agencies, assuming administrative tasks which usually devolved to state officials. Temples administered not only their own resources but also, for instance, crown land, and employed and/or rewarded state personnel (e.g., military personnel). Such a delegation of tasks could give rise to rather intricate structures, with secondary institutions (like other temples, or even mayors and rich peasants) administering goods which formally belonged to the crown, but had been entrusted to other temples that, subsequently, put other institutions and people in charge of them. As stated above, the administrative practices and the role played by institutions changed over time and led to different possibilities, administrative structures, and, in the end, distribution of power and tasks that make it impossible to posit the existence of a single Egyptian administration having preserved a single basic structure and its organizational principles unchanged over millennia. This brief overview about the problems that arise in the study of ancient Egyptian administration would certainly be incomplete without any reference to territorial administrative units. An anachronistic perspective posits the existence of provinces as operative administrative units in the 3rd and 2nd millennia B.C., and thus as precursors of the well-known nomoi structure of late 1st-millennium Egypt. However, towns and their districts, and in some cases the domains (or areas of influence) of local potentates, frequently appear in the sources as the basic units of territorial organization. Administrative and geographical units should thus be carefully distinguished in order to avoid considering, for instance, an Old Kingdom ‘great chief of a nome’ a ‘nomarch’. Perhaps such local titles simply served to enhance the prestige and denote the status of the dominant local leader, without any further administrative consideration, like, for instance, being a true ‘local governor’ with clearly defined functions and powers within

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a ‘nomarchal’ administrative structure. The authority they enjoyed in the areas under their influence made local leaders ideal intermediaries for the crown and their collaboration was in fact indispensable if the demands of the central authority were to be asserted locally. The fact that such ‘nomarchs’ were unevenly distributed both geographically and chronologically over Egypt (especially in the South) during the 3rd and 2nd millennia B.C. shows that they were not part of a formal nomarchal institution. On the other hand, some local potentates extended their influence well beyond their own towns and provinces and even exerted authority in other nomes. Furthermore, the borders of some provinces appear as imprecise and ill-defined areas even in relatively late periods in Egyptian history, like the end of the 3rd millennium, especially in the Eastern Delta, the area of Fayum and Middle Egypt. Finally, highly formalized ideal and/or ritual geographical terms fulfilled a precise role in ‘religious geography’ sources from the 2nd and 1st millennium B.C., but may be of little use—and may even induce error—for an accurate description of the real landscape of a given area. To sum up, whether provinces existed as geographical units and are evoked as such in the artistic record (like the processions of ‘funerary domains’), in royal decrees, and in local titles from a very early date, their mechanical interpretation as regular, operative administrative units bears careful scrutiny and seems hardly applicable to the whole of Egypt until a very late date. Consequently, chronology pervades any analysis of the administrative organization of Pharaonic Egypt and prevents regarding its structure as a rigid, everlasting one over the centuries. Politics, the balance of power between competing sectors of the elite, even between regions, determined the possibilities as well as the limits of its sphere of intervention. And this is also true even when focusing on the territorial administration of the kingdom. That is why when the sources are apparently abundant, as in the second half of the 3rd millennium, significant administrative differences may be discerned between regions (Upper and Lower Egypt), while specific reforms sought to improve the governmental management of specific areas (like the creation of the position of Overseer of Upper Egypt), sometimes in an ephemeral way (like the ‘middle provinces’ of Old Kingdom texts), and even the titles and the scope of activities of ‘great chiefs of the nome’ within restricted areas (like southern Upper Egypt) differed greatly from one province to another. Also noteworthy is the fact that entire sectors of Egyptian society (like the urban underworld, informal occupations,



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prostitution, mobile populations in marginal areas, itinerant trade, and so on) were very unlikely to have produced documents of their own in spite of their economic and social impact. A final problem concerns the sources available. In despite of the reputation of ancient Egypt as a bureaucratic and ‘papyrus-turned’ state, the fact of the matter is that sources are relatively rare and in many cases so exceptional because of the nature of their contents or their very local origin, that in many instances it turns out rather difficult to sketch the main outlines of the administrative organization at a given moment or to flesh out the information provided by titles or by brief biographical statements. While titles and institutions may be formally attested over long periods of Egyptian history, their specific nature, scope, and meaning may vary greatly from one period to another, as part of their activities could have been transferred to new institutions or be controlled by newly appointed officials outside the very institution itself. The relationship between particular administrative activities and specific institutions may have been a rather variable one depending on a multitude of factors, thus making it difficult to ascertain the true continuity of institutions outside the simple fact that a single term continued in use over long periods. So any study of, say, the ‘vizier’, the ‘treasury’, the ‘provincial governor’, not to mention more obscure institutions like the pr-ḥ rj-wd̠b or some ephemeral ones, should take into account the overall structure at a given period in order to outline the scope of their activities within it. It may be quite tempting to use better-documented periods in order to cast some light on the less-well-documented ones in order to reconstruct the history of a title or an institution but, once again, chronology and structural changes over time warn against an indiscriminate use of sources in order to fill the gaps. The same can be said about archives. Their number is frustratingly small until the second half of the 1st millennium, even in the case of privately held sets of documents, so entire administrative institutions and sectors of activity can be only very broadly understood thanks to the combined analysis of titles, autobiographical information, monumental epigraphy, and some scattered pieces of genuine administrative documents. Bearing in mind all these considerations, especially the scanty information available, the task of devoting a volume to the study of ancient Egyptian administration may seem premature. Nevertheless, a starting point, however precarious and incomplete it may be, appears to be quite necessary in order to stimulate further research, refine problems,

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terminology, and perspectives, and to progress towards a better structural and sectorial analysis of the Egyptian administration. The absence of sufficiently detailed studies covering the main institutions and functions throughout the entire Pharaonic history persuaded me that, in many cases, what could be gained was at best an unbalanced summary if the research were to focus on a single institution (say ‘the vizirate’) or official division. Not only may the documentary gaps prove to be quite formidable, but so too may be the absence of sufficient sources and even research on specific topics, titles, and divisions, even within a single historical period, like, for instance, the New Kingdom, not to mention 1st-millennium Egypt. So I have preferred a more traditional perspective, where topics are dealt with within the main periods of Egyptian history while chapters are arranged in a chronological framework. I hope that this choice will be of some use in helping to understand the basic outlines of Egyptian administration at a given period. Also, I have chosen to focus the chapters on general themes, rather than on institutions. Such a choice has an obvious disadvantage, because of the different perspectives, qualities, and numbers of the sources and the research traditions involved in the study of each of these themes for different periods. It is not the same thing to analyze the provincial administration during the 3rd millennium, when the sources are relatively abundant, and to apprehend its main outline in the New Kingdom. Another problem, too vast to be evoked in a few lines, is what exactly should be included under the heading of ‘Egyptian administration’. As this volume should be only considered a first step towards the writing of a true administrative history of ancient Egypt, I have limited the analysis to the management of people, resources, spaces, and information from the perspective of the monarchy and its interests. In order to cope with this choice, I have organized the book into two categories of chapters. The first one is composed of ‘structural’ articles, centered on vast administrative branches, like the army, the territorial administration, and the central departments during the traditionally accepted ‘main’ periods of Egyptian history (e.g., the Old, Middle, and New Kingdom as well as the Saite period), thus making it possible for researchers to compare the basic outlines of the central administration over 2500 years. The second category concerns very specific topics, selected because of the survival of abundant documents which provide detailed insights into particular practices and institutions within a single period. The 3rd-millennium archives



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from Balat or the 2nd-millennium temple administration records are obvious candidates which deserved a thorough attention. I hope that this choice proves judicious given the issues—analytical, theoretical, and documentary—that still limit our understanding of the main outlines of Pharaonic administration. The specialists who have contributed to this volume have attempted to provide state-of-the-art descriptions in their respective domains of research.1 I thank them warmly for their work when dealing with problems and documents which still raise so many difficulties of comprehension and ­evaluation.

1  Unfortunately, the planned chapter on the administration of the Third Intermediate Period and the organizational, scribal and executive changes occurred then was never delivered by the author who had accepted to produce it.

The organisation of a nascent state: Egypt until the beginning of the 4th Dynasty Eva-Maria Engel The term “administration” evokes manifold denotations that range from (private) managing of property to function of (state) authority, meant to execute public policy through all government bodies. As entities generating hierarchy and enabling control of large territories, administrative units are of central importance to territorial states.1 It is, therefore, not surprising that administration seems to appear in Egypt approximately at the same time as writing2 and the territorial state. Sources At the time of the 4th Dynasty, the reconstructed branches of authority are: the royal palace, the temples and the huge central administration that was subdivided into different agencies: the executive and juridical branch, the branch of works and expeditions, the archives, the treasury, the granary and the provincial administration.3 During the Early Dynastic period the economic sector left most traces, whereas jurisdiction, religion and other organised parts in the life of the Nile valley’s inhabitants remain nearly invisible. This is not surprising taking into account that our knowledge is mainly based on material culture in form of tomb equipment that was the result of intensive economic activities. Traces of organisation are detectable as early as the 4th millennium B.C. The habit of equipping tombs with food supplies lead to

 B.G. Trigger, Understanding Early Civilizations (Cambridge, 2003), 207.   The introduction of writing was recently also described as “conscious court initiative”: I. Regulski, “The Origin of Writing in Relation to the Emergence of the Egyptian State”, in: Egypt at its Origins 2. Proceedings of the International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, Toulouse (France), 5th–8th September 2005, B. Midant-Reynes and Y. Tristant, eds. (OLA 172; Leuven, 2008), 1001–1002. 3  According to M. Baud, Famille royale et pouvoir sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien I (BdE 126/1; Cairo, 1999), 316, Fig. 31; G. Husson and D. Valbelle, L’état et les institutions en Égypte des premiers pharaons aux empereurs romains (Paris, 1992), 44. 1 2

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the ­discovery of inscriptions that were in some ways related to containers. Hardly anything can be said about the nature of the inscription issuing institution(s) itself (if the signs are really more than the above mentioned managing of private property). While the number of these sources was first (in most cases) restricted to just a few for a single tomb, it increased remarkably during the 1st Dynasty when huge élite tombs were built at Abydos, Saqqara, Helwan, Naqada, Tarkhan and other sites. Those tombs contained up to hundreds of vessels and bags with liquids, fruit and other products that were the result of a large-scale exploitation of natural resources and intensifying agriculture. During the 2nd Dynasty evidence changed, not so much because of varying burial patterns but because of a smaller number of (well ) excavated élite burials. Until the end of the 3rd Dynasty the majority of inscriptions are seal impressions that were attached to containers, doors and papyri, labels made of ivory, wood or bone, and pot marks that were applied pre- or post-firing, as well as inscribed stone vessels. They inform about matters directly connected with the products: provenance (institution or locality), date of production, responsible person, content and quality as is best recognised in case of 1st Dynasty labels which depict the name of year and of ruling king, the name of one or two officials, that of one or more institutions and the product, sometimes in combination with its quality. The other inscriptions seem to focus on one or two aspects of this information. The briefness of the single entries often renders it difficult, if not impossible, to determine dependencies between several units noted in an inscription. It seems likely—as is the case in documents of later periods—that higher entities are mentioned first.4 But other examples record two institutions or an institution and a location in parallel positions, be it next to each other or in separate columns so that it is hardly possible to ascertain a subjection.5 While at the beginning of the 3rd Dynasty burial customs still followed the earlier pattern, it soon after changed: the élite tombs now contained less provision. Therefore, the number of inscriptions directly associated with producing institutions decreased whereas, on the other 4   W. Helck, Altägyptische Aktenkunde des 3. und 2. Jahrtausends v. Chr. (MÄS 31; Munich, Berlin, 1974), 64. 5  For example, seal impression P. Kaplony, Die Inschriften der ägyptischen Frühzeit I–III (ÄA 8; Wiesbaden, 1963), Fig. 738 or seals idem, Inschriften III, Figs. 281, 282, 285.



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hand, the tomb owners now displayed their role in different institutions on the walls of their graves by decorating them either with biographical texts or excerpts from official records. The habit of including biographical information on funerary monuments had begun already during the first half of the 1st Dynasty when some of the persons buried in the subsidiary burials of the royal tombs at Abydos had not only their names, but also (some of ?) their titles written on the stelae marking the burial chambers.6 In addition to the inscriptional evidence, there are indirect hints to administration: building activities all over the country follow similar patterns and, therefore, indicate that there was a central authority educating architects and/or editing plans for complex edifices: During the 1st Dynasty the layout of the élite tombs is astonishingly similar at varying sites,7 as is that of the little layer pyramids dating to the 3rd Dynasty,8 and the tomb of Peribsen in the 2nd Dynasty copies the layout of (at that time probably inaccessible) royal tombs from the early 1st Dynasty.9 Even the size of the mud bricks is rather identical in different regions.10 Although the building activities all over the country—not to mention the large-scale agricultural projects that were probably undertaken now11—involved quite some organisation and hundreds, if not thousands, of people, no inscriptional documents are preserved before the reign of Netjerikhet when Aa-akhtj was jmj-r¡ k¡.t nb.t nzw as was Pehernefer at the (end of the 3rd or) ­beginning

  6   W.M.F. Petrie, The Royal Tombs of the First Dynasty I (MEEF 18; London, 1900), Pl. XXXI–XXXVI, idem, The Royal Tombs of the Earliest Dynasties II (MEEF 21; London, 1901), Pl. XXVI–XXX. The first longer sequences on private stelae are summarized in W. Helck, Untersuchungen zur Thinitenzeit (ÄA 45; Wiesbaden, 1987), 225–285.   7   W.B. Emery, Archaic Egypt (Harmondsworth, 1961), 130; E.-M. Engel, “Tombs of the 1st Dynasty at Abydos and Saqqara: Different Types or Variations of a Theme?”, in: Proceedings of the Second Central European Conference in Egyptology. Egypt 2001: Perspectives of Research. Warsaw 5–7 March 2001, J. Popielska-Grzybowska, ed. (Warsaw, 2003), 41–49.   8  G. Dreyer and W. Kaiser, “Zu den kleinen Stufenpyramiden Ober- und Mittelägyptens”, MDAIK 36 (1980), 43–59; St. J. Seidlmayer, “Town and State in the Early Old Kingdom: A View from Elephantine”, in: Aspects of Early Egypt, J. Spencer, ed. (London, 1996), 108–127, esp. 122.   9  G. Dreyer et al., “Umm el-Qaab. Nachuntersuchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof. 16./17./18. Vorbericht”, MDAIK 62 (2006), 101. 10  A.J. Spencer, Brick Architecture in Ancient Egypt (Warminster, 1979), 147, Pl. 41. 11   The ceremonial mace-head of King Scorpion depicts the king as taking an active part in some agricultural operation: K.W. Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt. A Study in Cultural Ecology (Chicago, London, 1976), 20–21.

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of the 4th Dynasty.12 A glimpse of the administration involved in these projects are royal annals that mark an interface between agriculture and economy by recording the annual height of the inundation, an information that was necessary for planning large-scale building projects13 and agricultural production14 as well as for taxation.15 On the other hand, the nation-wide construction projects increased the demand for redistributing provision and, therefore, also for administering the necessary supply (food and raw materials). As early as the reign of Qa’a, perhaps even Den,16 the pr ḥ rj-wd̠b is in charge of allotments in form of provision.17 Another non-textual example for the existence of specialised departments is the uniformity of the containers utilised in storing the grave goods at different sites:18 They exemplify the fabrication in large units and indicate their broad scale of responsibilities that encompassed not only the production of primary goods like provision or textiles, but also that of the necessary containers and dishes.19 While most of our knowledge on Early Dynastic administration derives from cemeteries all over Egypt, the settlements at Buto and Elephantine provide evidence for state control in these distant regions. At both sites buildings were unearthed that seem to exemplify the presence of centres for the production and/or collection of local products: The building at Buto has several long corridors, generally taken to be

 Helck, Thinitenzeit, 249; H. Junker, “Phrnfr”, ZÄS 75 (1939), 70.  St. J. Seidlmayer, Historische und moderne Nilstände (ACHET A1; Berlin, 2001), 87. 14   K. Rüffing, Weinbau im römischen Ägypten (Pharos XII; St. Katharinen, 1999), 52. 15   T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt (London, 1999), 113–114. 16   J. Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch I (Wiesbaden, 2002), 130. 17   M. Baud, Djéser et la IIIe dynastie (Paris, 2002), 181; but see also J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Ægyptiaca Leodienensia 4; Liège, 1997), 141–144. 18   That the use of these pottery types was, of course, not restricted to the storage of grave goods, is exemplified by the vessels that were the archetype for several hieroglyphs, like W21, w2, and w15–18, see J. Kahl, Das System der ägyptischen Hieroglyphenschrift in der 0.-3. Dynastie (GOF IV/29; Wiesbaden, 1992), 801, 807–809, 816–818 and often used to note “jrp”. 19   The potters would fall into the category of “ ‘attached’ specialist producers” that were, according to P.M. Rice, Pottery Analysis. A Sourcebook (Chicago, London, 1987), 186 “associated with a particular interest group that can in some way manipulate production and demand.” 12

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magazines,20 the findings at the one at Elephantine suggest that larger amount of grain was stored and distributed in smaller rations. The building’s close connection to the local layer pyramid implies that the other pyramids dating to the 3rd Dynasty should be seen in a similar context—a combination of royal cult and economic production.21 Seal impressions were found at both sites,22 as well as in the settlements at Hierakonpolis,23 el-Tarif 24 (found at both sites in a secondary context), Naqada25 and Tell el-Farkha.26 The archaeological evidence from the settlements shows that a kind of control was also executed on a private level where seals were used to secure doors and containers.27 Institutions Both above mentioned traits of administrative units are our basic sources for reconstructing Early Dynastic administration: control and hierarchy. The use of two seals on one and the same stopper exemplifies that indeed control is intended, whereas hierarchy is expressed 20  E.g., U. Hartung et al., “Tell el-Fara’in—Buto. 9. Vorbericht”, MDAIK 63 (2007), 72–81. 21  St. J. Seidlmayer, “Die staatliche Anlage der 3. Dyn. in der Nordweststadt von Elephantine. Archäologische und historische Probleme”, in: Haus und Palast im Alten Ägypten, M. Bietak, ed. (DÖAW XIV; Wien, 1996), 195–214; idem, Aspects of Early Egypt, 108–127. 22  Buto: P. Kaplony, “Archaische Siegel und Siegelabrollungen aus dem Delta: Die Arbeit an den Siegeln von Buto”, in: The Nile Delta in Transition: 4th.-3rd. Millennium B.C., E.C.M. van den Brink, ed. (Tel Aviv, 1992), 23–30; D. Faltings and E. Ch. Köhler, “Vorbericht über die Ausgrabungen des DAI in Tell el-Fara’in/Buto 1993 bis 1995”, MDAIK 52 (1996), 93–94; D. Faltings et al., “Zweiter Vorbericht über die Arbeiten in Buto von 1996 bis 1999”, MDAIK 56 (2000), 158–162.—Elephantine: J.-P. Pätznick, Die Siegelabrollungen und Rollsiegel der Stadt Elephantine im 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Spurensicherung eines archäologischen Artefaktes (BAR International Series 1339; Oxford, 2005), passim; Seidlmayer, Haus und Palast im Alten Ägypten, 199, Fig. 3. 23   J.E. Quibell and F.W. Green, Hierakonpolis II (ERA 5; London, 1902), 16, Pl. LXX–LXXI; R. Bussmann, “Seals and Seal Impressions from Hierakonpolis”, EA 38 (2011; in press). 24   D. Arnold, “Bericht über die vom Deutschen Archäologischen Institut Kairo im Winter 1972/73 in El-Târif durchgeführten Arbeiten”, MDAIK 30 (1974), 160. 25  C. Barocas, R. Fattovich, and M. Tosi, “The Oriental Institute of Naples Expedition to Petrie’s South Town (Upper Egypt), 1977–1983”, in: Late Prehistory of the Nile Basin and the Sahara, L. Krzyżaniak and M. Kobusiewicz, eds. (SAA 2; Poznan, 1989), 301; R. Di Maria, “KHTM—a Proposal for an International Database for Seals and Clay-Sealings”, IE 9 (1994), 38–40. 26   K.M. Ciałowicz, “The Early Dynastic administrative-cultic centre at Tell el-Farkha”, British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan 13 (2009), 83–123. 27  Best documented for Elephantine, see Pätznick, Siegelabrollungen, passim.

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already in inscriptions of the 1st Dynasty when people or offices are described as ḫ rp or h̠rj-ʿ indicating a certain chain of command within a unit, and in tomb inscriptions the deceased describes himself by the position reached in different institutions. In addition, being part of the administration had become a status symbol: several obsolete cylinder seals with painted inscription were found.28 Marks on diverse objects, especially vessels, dating to the 4th millennium might already express private managing practices but are still difficult to interpret.29 As actions of formal organisations often result in bureaucracy, it is tempting to view the emergence of writing not only closely related to economic activities in the Nile valley, but also as a result of some agency’s actions. Therefore, inscriptions on pottery vessels from Abydos, dating to Naqada IId and probably indicating the provenance of their content, seem to be the oldest evidence for the existence of institutions.30 While the archaeological record is still rather scarce, picture changes during Naqada IIIa2/IIIA131 with tomb U-j from cemetery U at Umm el-Qa’ab/Abydos. The tomb contained an enormous amount of written material on pottery vessels as well as ivory and bone labels.32 The inscriptions can be divided into several categories: •  measurements giving the size of textiles; •  references to tomb equipment; •  references to locations, probably the provenance of varying parts of tomb inventory. Especially the last named category indicates that there was at least one unit responsible for equipping the tomb in question. As is evident from the uniformity of the labels, this unit collected, controlled,  Petrie, Royal Tombs II, Pl. XII [5].  For example, R. Pirelli, “Indicatori amministrativi a Naqadah. Contatori, cretulae, sigilli”, in: L’ufficio e il document. I luoghi, I modi, gli strumenti dell’amministrazione in Egitto e nel Vicino Oriente antico, C. Mora and P. Piacentini, eds. (Quaderni di Acme 83; Milano, 2006), 67–79. 30  E.g., vessels U-547/2, U-134/5, U-546/1: G. Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I: Das prädynastische Königsgrab U-j und seine frühen Schriftzeugnisse (AV 86; Mainz, 1998), 86, Pl. 22e–g. 31  See St. Hendrickx, “Predynastic—Early Dynastic Chronology”, in: Ancient Egyptian Chronology, E. Hornung, R. Krauss, and D.A. Warburton, eds. (HdO I.83; Leiden, Boston, 2006), 55–93, esp. 85, table II.1.5 for a correlation of the two dating systems. 32   Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I, passim. 28 29



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repacked and labelled various commodities that arrived from places as far away as Tell Basta or Elephantine.33 The same was done (by the same or a similar institution) with liquids, probably some oil or fat, which were stored in Wavy-handled vessels: The inscriptions on the vessels comprise one or two signs. While the first sign seems to indicate a location, the second, mostly a plant or a rectangle (šj?), might specify a department at that particular location.34 Yet another unit might have been responsible for imported articles because about 250 mud fragments with seal impressions were found associated with several hundred imported vessels originally containing wine. The seals showed depictions of different animals or human figures surrounded by diverse geometric patterns: While the geometric patterns recall motives from Palestine, the figurative representations seem to anticipate designs common in the early 1st Dynasty (see below).35 During the approximately 150 years between U-j and the beginning of the 1st Dynasty, evidence ceases nearly completely due to the lack of larger tombs. Few inscribed vessels prove that there was still a kind of administration36 although its scope has to remain doubtful at present. During Dynasty 0, different institutions edited various kinds of inscriptions (ink on pottery, seal impressions, pot marks, incised on stone vessels). So-called tax annotations are frequent from Iry-Hor to Den.37 These ink inscriptions are written on cylinder vessels and mention deliveries of diverse commodities from Upper or Lower Egypt in addition to the serekh of the reigning king. The vessels contained some kind of oily or fatty matter38 and are, therefore, not only typo-

33  For the reading of these place names, see, for example: F.A.K. Breyer, “Die Schriftzeugnisse des prädynastischen Königsgrabes U-j in Umm el-Qaab: Versuch einer ­Neuinterpretation”, JEA 88 (2002), 53–65; J. Kahl, “Die frühen Schriftzeugnisse aus dem Grab U-j in Umm el-Qaab”, CdE 78 (2003), 112–135. 34   Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I, 84–86; Breyer, JEA 88 (2002), 65; Kahl, CdE 78 (2003), 126–127. 35  U. Hartung, Umm el-Qaab II: Importkeramik aus dem Friedhof U in Abydos (Umm el-Qaab) und die Beziehungen Ägyptens zu Vorderasien im 4. Jahrtausend v. Chr. (AV 92; Mainz, 2001), 216–238. 36   Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I, 87–89. 37   W.M.F. Petrie, Abydos I (MEEF 22; London, 1902), Pl. I–III; W.B. Emery, HorAha (Excav. Saqq.; Cairo, 1939), Pls. 20–23; idem, Great Tombs of the First Dynasty II (Excav. Saqq.; London, 1954), Fig. 139–142; G. Dreyer, “Horus Krokodil, ein Gegenkönig der Dynastie 0”, in: The Followers of Horus. Studies dedicated to Michael Allen Hoffman, B. Adams and R. Friedman, eds. (ESA 2; Oxford, 1992), 259–263. 38  F. Pumpenmeier, “Ägyptische Keramik”, in: Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I, 28; St. Hendrickx, El Kab V: The Naqada III Cemetery (Brussels, 1994), 75.

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logically a successor of the inscribed vessels from U-j. Although these inscriptions are usually translated as “tax annotations,” the variety of words used ( jnw, jw.t, d̠f¡, jp, d̠ḥ , ḥ n) hint to a more complex ­structure of deliveries.39 Even though the available evidence is limited, palaeographic comparison proved that the number of scribes involved in registering these vessels was quite large and expanded from the time of Iry-Hor to that of Aha.40 While these cylindrical vessels were closed with leather or textiles fixed by a string around the vessel’s neck, other containers were covered with mud or taffl that was sealed by varying authorities.41 First, inscriptions on the seals are limited to the name of the king (temp. Iry-Hor, Sekhen/Ka), but soon after they contain references to other units: on some seals (temp. Narmer until Den), the royal names alternate with phrases that are explained as names of royal princes;42 other seals mention an institution that is, for lack of a better term, called tentadministration (temp. Narmer until Den): several seals seem to illustrate a building accompanied by other, also partially unreadable signs (probably names). They are first combined on the stopper with either a royal or another seal from the same administration and later used alone.43 This administration still might have been mobile and might have ­traversed the country on the occasion of the royal šmsw ḥ r.w.44 Other  E. Endesfelder, “Die Formierung der altägyptischen Klassengesellschaft. Pro­ bleme und Beobachtungen”, in: Probleme der frühen Gesellschaftsentwicklung im Alten Ägypten, E. Endesfelder, ed. (Berlin, 1991), 21; J. Kahl, “Zur Problematik der sogenannten Steuervermerke im Ägypten der 0.-1. Dynastie”, in: Divitiae Aegypti. Koptologische und verwandte Studien zu Ehren von Martin Krause, C. Fluck et al., eds. (Wiesbaden, 1995), 168–176. 40  I. Regulski, “Scribes in Early Dynastic Egypt”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand. Streif­ lichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer, E.-M. Engel, V. Müller, and U. Hartung, eds. (Menes 5; Wiesbaden, 2008), 581–611, esp. 606. 41   Kaplony, Inschriften I–III, passim for inscriptions, E.-M. Engel and V. Müller, “Verschlüsse der Frühzeit: Erstellung einer Typologie”, GM 178 (2000), 31–43 as well as Pätznick, Siegelabrollungen, 13–62 for types of sealings. 42  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 178–186; Kaplony, Inschriften I, 71–72; Dreyer et al., MDAIK 56 (2000), 94. Some of these phrases also appear alone on other seals (for instance, mn [seal Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 77 and seal idem, Inschriften III, Fig. 135], rḫ j.t [Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 79 and idem, Inschriften III, Fig. 14]) or different objects (for instance, s¡-¡s.t [Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 80 and Petrie, Royal Tombs II, Pl. XI {13}], H.t [Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 78 and H.G. Fischer, “A First Dynasty Bowl Inscribed with the Group ḥ t”, CdE 36 (1961), 19–22]). 43   W. Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte des alten Ägypten im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr. (HdO I.1/5; Leiden, 1975), 30; idem, Thinitenzeit, 178–186. 44  H. Schäfer, Ein Bruchstück altägyptischer Annalen (Berlin, 1902), 15–17; Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 26; Endesfelder, Probleme, 21–22. 39



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seals show diverse animals (temp. Narmer, Aha) and, therefore, depict another system of notations than the early hieroglyphic writing which was, nevertheless, employed within the same framework: they were used in combination with seals with royal names.45 The interpretations of their meaning range from a representation of the entirety of animals to the assumption that they might have been linked to the income from the deserts (hunting?) and perhaps even import of products.46 According to the (selected, see below) information of the royal annals, the šmsw ḥ r.w is attested since the reign of Aha and took place every second year. The term obviously describes an inspection journey through the country during which the king collected taxes and administered justice.47 At the same time, another non-textual marking system was employed on the pottery vessels themselves: An increasing number of pots carries one or more sign(s) that was/were mostly impressed before the vessel was burnt.48 The majority of these marks was applied to containers for liquids, most probably wine. There seems to be a certain affiliation between type of pot mark, shape and clay of the vessel, but their meaning is still debated.49 The number of pot marks decreases during the 2nd Dynasty which might be due to the usage of varying types of pots for the storage of liquids. During the reign of Djer, a first change took place: organisations came into being that were to exist during the next decades. Djer founded one of the first ḥ w.t-institutions, or estates,50 the ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w that was to survive until the reign of Netjerikhet. This institution is the first one that is mentioned on different types of sources: it appears on seal impressions, on ivory and bone labels and is connected to the   Kaplony, Inschriften I, 70.   Kaplony, Inschriften I, 71; Hartung, Umm el-Qaab II, 232–234. 47   J.v. Beckerath, “Horusgeleit”, LÄ III (Wiesbaden, 1980), 51. 48  See the comprehensive studies by W. Helck, Thinitische Topfmarken (ÄA 50; Wiesbaden, 1990) and E.C.M. van den Brink, “Corpus and Numerical Evaluation of the ‘Thinite’ Potmarks”, in: The Followers of Horus. Studies dedicated to Michael Allen Hoffman, R. Friedman and B. Adams, eds. (ESA 2; Oxford, 1992), 265–296 for the Early Dynastic pot marks, and Non-Textual Marking Systems, Writing and Pseudo Script from Prehistory to Modern Times, P. Andrássy, J. Budka, Frank Kammerzell, eds. (StudMon 8; Göttingen, 2009) for non-textual marking systems in general. 49  Literature summarized in E.C.M. van den Brink, “Potmark-Egypt.com”, Egypt at its Origins 2, 237–239. 50  For the terminology see Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 123. For Old Kingdom ḥ w.ts, see J.C. Moreno Garcia, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire. Économie, administration et organisation territorial (Paris, 1999), passim. 45 46

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production of textiles and (the import) of oil.51 Although it is often said to be located at Buto,52 this identification is far from sure. On the other hand, the relation of the ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w to imports from Palestine and Syria and its connection to the fabrication of textiles do indeed point to a location in the Delta, since it seems to have been a preferable location for the cultivation of flax.53 This ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w is seen as the central collecting and producing unit that only in the 2nd Dynasty became part of the then newly founded js d̠f¡ as part of the pr.w nzw.54 Djer is also the first king who had a royal domain founded to produce at least parts of his tomb equipment and probably to serve his mortuary cult; but it is quite likely that the domain also manufactured a certain surplus to support the royal household during the king’s lifetime. Sḫ n-¡ḫ is a frequently employed title that occurs on sealings together with impressions of subdivisions of the domains.55 While it is obvious that each king from now on created a new domain, it is in most cases difficult to tell how long the domain continued working: the domain Ḥ r.w-sḫ n.tj-d̠w of Djer is still attested under ‘Serpent’ and Den56 as well as w¡d̠-Ḥ r.w (founded by ‘Serpent’) is still active during the reign of Den,57 and during the beginning of the 4th Dynasty the official Pehernefer is affiliated to the domain of King Netjerikhet who is also the last king for whom such an institution is attested.58 The names of the domains are written in an oval, until the reign of

51  E.-M. Engel, “Das ḥ w.t pἰ-ḥ r.w msn.w in der ägyptischen Frühzeit”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand, 107–126. 52  Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 26; idem, Thinitenzeit, 180. 53   Junker, ZÄS 75 (1939), 64; B. van de Walle, Le Mastaba de Neferirtenef (Guides du Département égyptien 2; Brussels, 1973), 22, whereas M. Serpico and R. White, “Oil, fax and wax”, in: Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, P.T. Nicholson and I. Shaw, eds. (Cambridge, 2000), 396 state that flax could have been grown in Upper and Lower Egypt alike. 54  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 217. 55   Kaplony, Inschriften I, 89; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 227. See, for instance, seal ­Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 116 of the sḫ n-¡ḫ m d̠d-k¡ who is also ḫ rp-nbj whose seal is employed together with a seal of a ḫ rp-nbj of King Den (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 200). The same is the case for the ʿd̠-mr ḥ w.t jḥ w and sḫ n-¡ḫ ʿm-k¡ (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 118) combined with the seal of a ḫ rp-ḥ rj-jb (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 198). 56  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 181, 187. 57  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 187. 58   Junker, ZÄS 75 (1939), 72; for later references to this institution see K. Sethe, “Remarks on the Inscriptions”, in: J. Garstang, Mahâsna and Bêt Khallâf (ERA; London, 1901), 21.



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Den also rectangular, frame59 and usually refer to an aspect of the god Horus.60 They are known from seal inscriptions impressed on stoppers of so-called wine jars and bag sealings indicating that the domains manufactured horticultural products. Seal impressions illustrate soon (temp. ‘Serpent’) that the domains were divided into several units whose names (nbj, ḥ rj-jb, etc.) do not reveal their specific functions. They also seem to have dealt with similar goods, since impressions are on rather identical jar and bag sealings, and they all seem to disappear during the 2nd Dynasty while, at the same time, villages are incorporated or founded.61 Titles connected with the domains are—beginning with Den—ḫ rp, ʿd̠-mr and ḥ rj-wd̠¡. ʿd̠-mr is only used with the name of the domain itself, whereas the others, especially ḫ rp, occur with the domain or with one of the subdivisions. At present, it is not recognisable whether there is always a reason for the usage of different titles, but a seal of Hemaka62 (temp. Den) with the alternating titles “ʿd̠-mr” and “ḫ rp of the domain” indicates that there is not—at least at this early stage. ʿd̠-mr seems to be a description for the head of an institution that supports the royal court.63 The use of the title ʿd̠-mr in combination with several domains suggests a location of these institutions in the Delta—since this title is used exclusively in that region during the Old Kingdom64—as do the climatic conditions.65 The occurrence of the god Ash together with the royal domain (temp. Peribsen) points to the same conclusion, if not even to a location in the western ­Delta.66 The domains are connected to the production of wine and other fruit that were the result of combined horticulture. This alludes to an area that was 59  Read tentatively wn.t “fortress” by Endesfelder, Probleme, 28–29, but Kahl, Hiero­ glyphenschrift, 651–652 [o2] takes it as determinative. See also Kaplony, Inschriften I, 104. 60  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 204–205; E.-M. Engel, “The domain of Semerkhet”, in: Egypt at its Origins. Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams, St. Hendrickx et al., eds. (OLA 138; Leuven, 2004), 709. 61  Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 31. Kaplony, Inschriften I, 118 for the possibility of earlier villages that belonged to domains. 62   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 216. 63  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 244–245. 64  E. Martin-Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung bis zum Ende des Alten Reiches (HÄB 1; Hildesheim, 1976), 46. 65   D. Zohary and M. Hopf, Domestication of Plants in the Old World. The origin and spread of cultivated plants in West Asia, Europe and the Nile Valley ³(Oxford, 2000), 158. 66   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 283, 286. A seal that mentions a ḥ w.t jḥ w is often thought to be the earliest mention of the later town with the same name in the western delta and used together with another seal of a ḫ rp ḥ rj-jb: Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 118, 198.

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not flooded for the entire inundation period since, on one hand, too much water would have harmed the plants and, on the other, harvesting the grapes in August or September would have been impossible during the inundation period.67 In the Delta, these areas would have been the districts close to the desert margins, higher spots on active and abandoned levees and geziras as well as artificially raised areas.68 Given that viticulture demanded a rather high investment—the harvest of grapes can only start about three years after planting69—the long-term survival of the single domains is easily explained. Few sources ranging from Djer to the reign of Netjerikhet refer to a qd ḥ tp, an administration that seems to have been responsible for the procurements of materials.70 One of the officials buried in a subsidiary tomb of King ‘Serpent’ holds the title of a ḫ rp pr-nzw as does Sabef from the reign of Qa’a.71 This institution is attested here for the first time. During the 1st Dynasty the pr-nzw is interpreted as the ‘royal household’ and—more concrete—the office and administration building.72 It is part? of different estates (ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w,73 ḥ w.t s¡-ḥ ¡-nb74), while during the 2nd Dynasty it seems to have changed its responsibilities to a central state authority that was supposed to control and coordinate activities in the whole country.75 The js-d̠f¡ was one of the subordinate agencies76 as was a vineyard that

 Rüffing, Weinbau im römischen Ägypten, 52.   M.A. Murray, “Viticulture and wine production”, in: Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, P.T. Nicholson and I. Shaw, eds. (Cambridge, 2000), 583. 69   Zohary and Hopf, Domestication of Plants in the Old World, 152. 70   The attestations are summarized by Helck, Thinitenzeit, 237–238, 260; Piacentini, Scribes, 61 [A-B.Hl.1]. 71  Petrie, Royal Tombs I, Pl. XXX, XXXI [8]; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 225, 228; Kaplony, Inschriften I, 365–366. 72  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 228; a private statue of 3rd Dynasty date preserves the title of a ḥ m pr.w-nzw: J. Kahl, N. Kloth, and U. Zimmermann, Die Inschriften der 3. Dynastie. Eine Bestandsaufnahme (ÄA 56; Wiesbaden, 1995), 214–215 [D3/Sa/24]. 73  Petrie, Royal Tombs I, Pl. IX [3]; Petrie, Royal Tombs II, Pl. VIII [7]. 74  Stone vessels P. Lacau and J.-P. Lauer, La pyramide à degrés IV.1 (Fouilles Saqq.; Cairo, 1959), Pl. IV [7], 9 [46]; Petrie, Royal Tombs I, Pl. IX [1–2]. 75  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 219, 225; E. Martin-Pardey, “Das ‘Haus des Königs’ pr-nswt”, in: Gedenkschrift für Winfried Barta ḥ tp dj n ḥ zj, D. Kessler and R. Schulz, eds. (MÄU 4; Frankfurt am Main, 1995), 269–285. 76  Attested for the reigns of Ninetjer (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 862) and Khasekhemwy (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 214). 67 68



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was somehow attached to a pr-dšr77 and a magazine (ḫ nt).78 A single seal impression mentioning a wd̠ʿ mdw n pr.w nzw (temp. Zanakht) also proves that the pr.w nzw fulfilled a certain juridical function.79 The next re-organisation of the administration seems to have taken place just two generations later: Inscriptions of King Den were found in his tomb as well as in that of his mother Queen Meretneit who ruled the country during the first years of his reign.80 The seals of the domains now include the title of the person in charge (ḫ rp, ʿd̠-mr), and they are combined on the clay sealings with a seal mentioning the name of the king. The ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w now has some subdivisions.81 It is also quite likely that the provincial administration—the organisation of Upper and Lower Egypt in different nomes—, which was in all probability in existence at the end of the 1st Dynasty originated during Den’s reign82 while other administrations ceased to exist: the so-called tent administration and the seals supposedly mentioning royal sons disappeared as did the tax remarks on cylindrical vessels.83 A treasury, called pr-ḥ d̠ or pr-dšr in the Early Dynastic Period, first occurred during the early reign of Den.84 The two terms are seen as either alternating or referring to two separate departments in the northern and southern part of the country respectively.85 Through combination with other seals, the pr-ḥ d̠/dšr is associated with the domain  Engel, Zeichen aus dem Sand, 118, Fig. 21 = Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 764+765 for the reign of Khasekhemwy and Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 318 for the reign of Netjerikhet. 78  Petrie, Royal Tombs I, Pl. IX [1–3]; Petrie, Royal Tombs II, Pl. VIII [7]. 79   Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch I, 130; W. Kaiser et al., “Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine. 9./10. Grabungsbericht”, MDAIK 38 (1982), 304, Fig. 15; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 237. 80  She is mentioned as mw.t nzw on the seal of the necropolis (temp. Den): G. Dreyer, “Ein Siegel der frühzeitlichen Königsnekropole von Abydos”, MDAIK 43 (1987), 33–43; Schäfer, Bruchstück altägyptischer Annalen, 18; Endesfelder, Probleme, 25. 81  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 188–189. 82  E.-M. Engel, “Die Entwicklung des Systems der ägyptischen Nomoi in der Frühzeit”, MDAIK 62 (2006), 151–160. 83  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 191. 84   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 121, 177, 106, 194; Petrie, Royal Tombs I, Pl. V [2]. Titles connected with this institution are h̠rj-ʿ (Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 121, 177, 106, 194), a scribe (P. Piacentini, Les scribes dans la société égyptienne de l’Ancien Empire I [Paris, 2002], 56–57 [B.Sa.4]: 3rd Dynasty) and an jmj-r¡ (Pehernefer: N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. The Highest Titles and Their Holders [London, 1985], 299). 85  E.g., Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 125 and S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Égypte des origines à la fin du Moyen Empire (Paris, 2006), 16 for the two differing opinions. 77

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during the reign of Adjib,86 with the ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w and ḥ w.t z¡h¡-nb so that it seems likely that it was responsible for the administration of deliveries for both estates and other departments.87 But the sources mentioning the pr-ḥ d̠/dšr supply no evidence that it was already a superior institution as was the case in later periods, although through its affiliation with the domain and the different estates it was already involved with the same products as in the Old Kingdom.88 As late as at the reign of Sekhemkhet, the pr.wj ḥ d̠ is mentioned for the first time.89 Adjib founded a new estate, the ḥ w.t z¡-h¡-nb, that changed its name several times under his successors, until it seems to have disappeared after Raneb.90 It is less well attested than the ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w, but appears, in contrast to that institution, on pot marks incised on socalled wine jars. A seal dating to the reign of Qa’a is taken to be the first secure allusion to the position of a vizier.91 During the 2nd Dynasty a person with the name Menka92 bears the same title. Sometimes the person represented on Narmer palette and mace head close to the king and referred to as t̠ or t̠t̠ is taken to be the vizier.93 The office seems to have undergone a change of meaning during the Early Dynastic Period and finally divided into that of the vizier and that of the Sem-priest.94 At the end of the dynasty an institution responsible for the desert regions is mentioned in tomb S 3505 generally attributed to the official

86   The seals Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 94, 213, 300B were used together on jar stoppers. 87  Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 28. 88  Strudwick, Administration of Egypt, 299. 89   Z. Goneim, Horus Sekhem-khet. The unfinished Step Pyramid at Saqqara I (Excav. Saqq.; Cairo, 1957), 14, Fig. 28, Pl. XXXVII B[1]. 90  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 192. 91  It mentions a t¡jtj z¡b t̠¡tj: Emery, Great Tombs II, 127, Fig. 200; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 234; G. Dresbach, “Zu einem Siegelabdruck mit dem Namen des Qa’a”, in: In Pharaos Staat. Festschrift für Rolf Gundlach zum 75. Geburtstag, D. Bröckelmann and A. Klug, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2006), 19–26 doubts this reading. 92   J.-P. Lacau and P. Lauer, La pyramide à degrés V (Fouilles Saqq.; Cairo, 1965), 1–3 [1], Fig. 1–4, Pl. 1 [1–7]; dating to Ninetjer according to Helck, Thinitenzeit, 197 or to Khasekhemwy according to I. Regulski, “Second Dynasty Ink Inscriptions from Saqqara paralleled in the Abydos Material from The Royal Museums of Art and History (RMAH) in Brussels”, in: Egypt at its Origins, 961–964. 93  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 218, 233–234; Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 137–139. Baud, Djéser, 180 doubts the existence of a vizier before the 2nd Dynasty. 94  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 234.



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Merka. On his stela he has the title ʿd̠-mr smj.t or ḫ ¡s.t,95 whereas a seal impression from the same tomb (but not the same person) mentions a ḫ rp smj.t.96 Both titles were tentatively interpreted as being a civil and a military administration of the area in question.97 This agency is more frequently attested during the 2nd and early 3rd Dynasty,98 and at the turn from the 3rd to the 4th Dynasty, both Pehernefer and Metjen were ʿd̠-mr smj.t jmn.tt.99 The interpretations of this title range from “königlicher Jägermeister”100 and “administrator”101 to leader of an expedition102 (see below), options which need not exclude each other. But this is only the inscriptional evidence: archaeological finds prove that the deserts were investigated long before on a large scale for raw materials, like stones, but also for hunting.103 Since most of these products were probably obtained during expeditions, it is not surprising that during the reign of Sekhemib a smn.t-administration is attested.104 Rock inscriptions from expeditions to Sinai are preserved from the reigns of Sekhemkhet and Zanakht and headed by ʿd̠-mr’s and jmj-r¡ mšʿ’s, the earliest reference for this military title.105 In contrast to the wealth of material discovered in the élite tombs at Abydos, Saqqara, Naqada and other sites, evidence is rather scarce during the 2nd Dynasty and limited to a few seal impressions for the first kings of that dynasty. Only in the second half and at the end of the dynasty, the burials of the Kings Peribsen and Khasekhemwy at Umm el-Qa’ab allow some insight into the administration. Domains

  95   W.B. Emery, Great Tombs of the First Dynasty III (Excav. Saqq.; Oxford, 1954), Pl. 39; D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom (BAR International Series 866; Oxford, 2000), 361 [1339].   96   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 406.   97   Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, 51; but see the parallel use of both titles in combination with the domain of Den: Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 216.   98  Scribes of the 2nd and 3rd Dynasty: Piacentini, Scribes, 65–66 [B.Bk.2.3], 78 [A.In.1], an jmj-r¡ dates to the reign of Khasekhemwy: Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 269.   99   Junker, ZÄS 75 (1939), 72. 100  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 231. 101   Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch I, 100. 102  Baud, Djéser, 269. 103  Earlier indications for the administration of desert products might be seals depicting animals: Hartung, Umm el-Qaab II, 232–234 (see above). 104   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 404, 755; Lacau and Lauer, La pyramide à degrés V, 56–57, Figs. 82a–c [131]. 105  E. Eichler, Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches (GOF IV/26; Wiesbaden, 1993), 29–30 [1–4], 37 [23–25]; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 266, 282.

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of both kings are mentioned allowing the assumption that also their predecessors probably had founded their own domains. The js-d̠f¡, the food department, is first attested under Ninetjer, but also from the reigns of his successors106 with personnel bearing titles as h̠rj-tp nzw and scribe.107 It seems to have been a central authority for the collection of taxes.108 During Sekhemib’s reign, it has a pr ḥ d̠ attached.109 The royal annals document the count for the first time under Ninetjer.110 It occurred every two years in combination with the šmswḥ r.w. The (cattle) count enforces the interpretation that already the Following of Horus was meant to collect taxes. A fragmentary inscription from the reign of Netjerikhet and another one from the 3rd Dynasty mention h̠nw as administrative unit.111 A rock inscription from his reign is a first and singular evidence for wpw.t nzw as direct royal order.112 By now, the managers of estates are called ḥ q¡ ḥ w.t-ʿ¡.113 During the early 2nd Dynasty, a šnʿ attached to a temple? of Sopdu is mentioned.114 pr šnʿ itself is only attested during the reign of Sekhemib as a subordinate unit of the pr nzw.115 At the turn from the 3rd to the 4th Dynasty, there seem to have been two separate departments for Upper and Lower Egypt.116 While at the end of the 6th Dynasty pr šnʿ is an “abstrakte Institution . . ., der Ländereien nominell zugeordnet waren”117 that served the food production,118 its competences during

106   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 267, 268, 289, 751, 753, 862; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 195–196 assumes that it replaced the ḥ w.tz¡-ḥ ¡-nb. 107   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 267; Piacentini, Scribes, 58–59 [B.Sa.7.1], 70 [A.Ab.4]. 108   Kaplony, Inschriften I, 158; idem, Inschriften II, 848 [957]. 109  Seal impressions Kaplony, Inschriften III, Figs. 751, 753 against Endesfelder, Probleme, 29–30 who sees it as part of the treasury which is impossible because of the sequence of signs. 110  Schäfer, Bruchstück altägyptischer Annalen, 22–25. 111   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 803; M. Verner, “An Early Old Kingdom Cemetery at Abusir”, ZÄS 122 (1995), 83, Fig. 6b. 112  A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet, and J. Cerny, The Inscriptions of Sinai I (London, 1952–1955), Pl. 1, II, 54. 113  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 217. 114   Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 367; E.-M. Engel, “Die Siegelabrollungen von Hetep­sechemui und Raneb aus Saqqara”, in: Timelines II. Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, E. Czerny et al., eds. (OLA 149; Leuven, 2006), 30. 115  Lacau and Lauer, La pyramide à degrés IV.1, Pl. 18 [90]; Baud, Djéser, 180. 116   Junker, ZÄS 75 (1939), 68. 117  P. Andrassy, “Das pr-šnʿ im Alten Reich, SAK 20 (1993), 33. 118  Andrassy, SAK 20 (1993), 22.



the organisation of a nascent state

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the Early Dynastic Period are not quite clear: it was suggested that the pr šnʿ functioned similar to the domains of the 1st Dynasty119 or that it was somehow connected to the import of goods.120 Beginning with the 2nd Dynasty, a few titles attest the existence of a (central?) archive.121 Juridical competences are first documented with the title wd̠ʿ-mdw.w pr.w nzw during the 3rd Dynasty.122 In addition to larger administrative institutions, there are other units that edited seals or other documents which are either independent or only fragmentarily attested so that it is difficult to ascertain a link.123 The seals of the necropolis that exists for two different reigns in the second half of the 1st Dynasty are perhaps an example for such an independent administration124—if they were not connected to the institutions of the mortuary cult: both list the names of the deceased kings buried in Umm el-Qa’ab for whom the administration of the cemetery was currently responsible. As much as sanctuaries are documented archaeologically, several inscriptions refer to similar institutions or the temple personnel.125 Several inscriptions mention Sed-festivals and other ceremonies:126 On labels, the festivals are usually mentioned as part of the year names, but seals alluding to festivals proof that certain deliveries were especially made on these occasions, and the small size of sealings (types S, B) differentiates them from the contemporary products of other institutions.127 The festivals are also present on several stone vessels, which, together with the other sources, point to the sector of display   Kaplony, Inschriften I, 151.   Kaplony, Inschriften II, 833 [882]. 121  Piacentini, Scribes, 52–53 [A-B.Sa.4–5], 60 [B.Sa.9]. 122   Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch I, 130. 123  Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 30. 124   Dreyer, MDAIK 43 (1987), 33–43; Id. et al., “Umm el-Qaab. Nachunter­ suchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof. 7./8. Vorbericht”, MDAIK 52 (1996), 72, Fig. 26. 125  E.g.: J. Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch III (Wiesbaden, 2004), 305–306; Piacentini, Scribes, 48 [A.Sa.1], 50–52 [A-B.Sa.1–2]; Lacau and Lauer, Pyramide à degrés V, 19–20, Fig. 29–30, Pl. 15 [1, 3–5]; Tarkhan: Kaplony, Inschriften III, Fig. 18; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 178. 126  For a summary, see A. Jiménez Serrano, Royal Festivals in the Late Predynastic Period and the First Dynasty (BAR International Series 1076; Oxford, 2002). 127  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 181, 188; Kaplony, Inschriften III, Abb. 237; E.-M. Engel, “Das Sedfest des Semerchet”, in: Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf, C. Peust, ed. (Göttinger Miszellen Beihefte 3; Göttingen, 2008), 11–14; V. Müller, “Nilpferdjagd und geköpfte Feinde—zu zwei Ikonen des Feindvernichtungsrituals”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand, 477–493. 119 120

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and/or redistribution because these vessels were probably part of the royal reward system.128 Problems The Early Dynastic evidence for administration poses several problems. First, the spatiotemporal distribution of the preserved sources is quite uneven. Although the recording of time was important in Egyptian documents—be it for the recording of the annual flood height or for registering the freshness of a product—the year names in use do not seem to have been omnipresent: the example of Semerkhet—the only king for whom all reigning years are preserved in the annals—shows that there were different names or excerpts in use.129 On the other hand, the vast majority of sources come from the few élite cemetery sites, whereas large parts of the country and the organization of the processing agencies mostly remain terra incognita in this respect. A bias also arises through the focus on economy. As soon as there are sources other than those related to containers, the titles of the mentioned persons indicate that there was an abundance of offices related to the palace, to religious tasks, juridical functions and others that only in rather few instances come to light. The available sources are found in contexts from the end of the process of economic administration: They hardly ever give indication whether the mentioned institution processed or just collected the stored items. In case of finds from the settlements it is not even entirely clear which seals were indeed employed at the sites and which were applied to containers or letters and sent to their find spot and whether, therefore, the visible organisation was a local one or not. It has been repeatedly stated that the highest offices were occupied by close relatives, especially sons, of the king.130 This supposition is probably provoked by 4th Dynasty evidence when royal princes indeed

128   Z. Sayed, “Ökonomie der Altägyptischen Feste”, in: Das Heilige und die Ware. Zum Spannungsfeld von Religion und Ökonomie, M. Fitzenreiter, ed. (IBAES VII; London, 2007), 301–306. 129  Compare the annals (T.A. Wilkinson, Royal Annals of Ancient Egypt. The Palermo Stone and its associated fragments [London, 2000], Figs. 4, 5) with the labels: Helck, Thinitenzeit, 162–163. See now also J. Baines, “On the evolution, purpose, and forms of Egyptian annals”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand, 19–40. 130  E.g., Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 186; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 218.



the organisation of a nascent state

37

play an important role as vizier and in other offices,131 an assumption that is, for the Early Dynastic period, not generally accepted.132 People bearing titles like z¡ or z¡.t nzw, a proof for “real” royal descent during the 4th Dynasty,133 are rather rare during that period, as are ḥ ¡.tj.w-ʿ.134 These people do not carry higher administrative titles; on the other hand, officials with a longer chain of titles do not mention a closer (family) relation to the king. The assumption that the higher offices were held by close kin of the king has, at present, to remain an hypothesis. Conclusion Administration seems to have evolved around the royal household: at the end of Dynasty 0 hardly more than the name of the king is necessary to indicate institution and product, and the two recognizable departments always sign together with the royal name. The royal household had to support all its members, not only the royal family, as well the royal mortuary cult. At that time, administration may still have been mobile, perhaps travelling through the country every second year together with the king at the occasion of his šmsw ḥ r.w. A first break occurred during the reign of Djer when permanent institutions were introduced, and the royal domain received a name different from that of the king. Not only the variety and high quality of products, but also the increasing number of titles suggests that division of labour was wide spread, as was hierarchy and control, the three signifying characteristic traits of formal institutions. The next reorganization took place during the reign of Den. At that period the country was still not fully developed, some regions might not have been densely inhabited. Settlements concentrated in areas where irrigation was easily manageable, and those were the districts

 Baud, Famille royale I, 314–315.  Baud, Djéser, 179; Strudwick, Administration of Egypt, 300, even accepts only Nefermaat in the early 4th Dynasty as first vizier. 133  Baud, Famille royale I, 151–188. 134  See J. Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch II (Wiesbaden, 2003), 250; idem, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch III, 284–285; Helck, Thinitenzeit, 265, 282; G. Dreyer et al., “Umm el-Qaab. Nachuntersuchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof. 11./12. Vorbericht”, MDAIK 56 (2000), 127, Fig. 27 [Typ XII]; Engel, Timelines II, 30–31 [D2/ Sa/1]. 131 132

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that seem to have been organized as nomes first.135 The introduction of a system of nomes throughout the country is the earliest indication for territorial unity, although it remains inconsistent until the end of the Old Kingdom.136 The single institutions (domain, ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w) are more and more subdivided into several departments, and during the 2nd Dynasty villages are attached. Many single units cannot always be attributed to one or the other institution but the growing number demonstrates increasing specialization. During the 2nd and the 3rd Dynasties, agencies are created that remained in use, like the pr.wj ḥ d̠ and the pr šnʿ. Finally, at the end of the period, there are several intertwined units at different locations producing a variety of commodities which are, as far as we can determine, affiliated to the royal court. But products from these royal institutions were not only discovered in royal contexts. Some private tombs were equally equipped with produce from royal institutions so that one can recognize a redistribution system as referred to later, for example, in the biography of Weni. The allocation of property to individuals and the possibility to inherit property is described in texts as soon as there are longer inscriptions available,137 but the mention of several sḫ n-¡ḫ being responsible in the royal domains at the beginning of the 1st Dynasty suggests that this practice started earlier, and the inscription of Metjen from the end of the period in question characterises him as participating in and benefitting from the cult for Queen Nimaathapi. Like at the end of the Old Kingdom, the officials were probably closely attached to the royal household to secure dependencies.138 The more people were involved in this circle, the higher was the demand for support. Although the term “administration” evokes associations that only the literate élite was involved in its processes,139 the development elucidates that next to the literate other persons were incorporated given that the ability to read and write was not necessarily a prerequisite

135  Compare the evidence of the regional study by Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt, 99–104 with the list of the earliest attested nomes: Engel, MDAIK 62 (2006), 151–160. 136  R. Müller-Wollermann, “Das ägyptische Alte Reich als Beispiel einer Weberschen Patrimonialbürokratie”, BES 8 (1987/88), 31–32. 137  E.g., the tomb of Metjen: Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 135. 138   Müller-Wollermann, BES 8 (1987/88), 34–35. 139  See Piacentini, Scribes, 42–82 and Regulski, Zeichen aus dem Sand, 606 for the increasing number of scribes during the first three dynasties.



the organisation of a nascent state

39

to perform certain administrative duties.140 Occupational titles of craftsmen become part of administrative titles,141 and finally the term included the mass of the Egyptian population that was organized in different departments. The impact of administration on the individual is discernible in those instances when people changed their names to comply with their duties.142 By the end of the 3rd Dynasty, the major branches of Old Kingdom administration were in existence. Although the focus lies on the provisioning of the royal, and later also private, households, other branches like jurisdiction or an archive are attested, too, as are several temples. The administration adapted to changing demands, sometimes gradually, sometimes with major restructuring. But whatever the changes were, the trend to specify offices and institutions is visible. Obviously, the increasing demand for a production of varying commodities continued during the entire period and met the challenge posed by the necessity to erect huge pyramids over a period of several hundred years.

140  It is, for instance, not necessary to be able to read or write to use a seal. See also L. Pantalacci, “Fonctionnaires et analphabètes: sur quelques pratiques administratives observes à Balat”, BIFAO 96 (1996), 359–367. 141  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 241. 142  See the case of Khabawsokar: Helck, Thinitenzeit, 261, or the fact that several scribes have names composed of elements like “Ra”: J. Kahl, “Ra is my Lord”. Searching for the Rise of the Sun God at the Dawn of Egyptian History (Menes 1; Wiesbaden, 2007), 34–41.

U-j

+

+

Irj-Hor

+

Narmer

+ + + + +

Aha + + + + +

+

+ + + + +

+ + + +

Djer + +

‚Serpent‘

+ +

Meretneit/Den

?

?

+

+ + +

+

+

Den + + + + + + +

Adjib

+ + + + +

+ +

Semerkhet ?

+

+ + + +

Qa‘a +

+

+ +

+ + +

Hetepsekhemwy +

?

+

+ +

Raneb +

?

+

Ninetjer +

?

+ + + +

Peribsen +

+

+ +

+

Sekhemib +

+

+ + +

+ +

+

+ + + +

Netjerikhet

Sekhemkhet +

Zanakht

+

+ + (+) (+)

+ + + +

Ba

Huni

Qahedjet

Khaba

Sekhen/Ka

143  Chronology according to J. Kahl, “Inscriptional Evidence for the Relative Chronology of Dyns. 0–2”, in: Ancient Egyptian Chronology, E. Hornung, R. Krauss, and D.A. Warburton, eds. (HdO I.83; Leiden, Boston, 2006), 94–115 and St. J. Seidlmayer, “The Relative Chronology of Dynasty 3”, in: Ancient Egyptian Chronology, 116–123.

different location “royal son” tax remark animal seal tent administration royal name domain ḥ w.t pj-ḥ r.w-msn.w pr-nzw js d̠f¡ pr(.wj) ḥ d̠/dšr ḥ w.t z¡-h¡-nb qd ḥ tp ḫ ¡s.t smj.t pr šnʿo pr ḥ rj wd̠b nomoi

Khasekhemwy

Table 1.  The major institutions of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Dynasties.143

40 eva-maria engel

The central administration of the resources in the Old Kingdom: departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers Hratch Papazian Introductory Remarks Old Kingdom Egypt, within its conventionally accepted chronological boundaries that span from the Third Dynasty to the end of the Sixth, has been portrayed as a complex society,1 a status that it most certainly inherited from the half millennium-long Early Dynastic period that preceded it. It appears that by the beginning of the First Dynasty, most of the components that characterized the Egyptian state were either already in place or were undergoing a phase of advanced gestation, the results of an economic and administrative structure that began to take shape in the late Naqada II, and in more accelerated fashion during the Naqada III period.2 This effort was led by an entity that consolidated and managed resources and in turn engendered the various tools of governance, above all hierarchical bureaucracy and writing.3 It remains highly likely that the institution-building initiatives undertaken by the early Upper Egyptian rulers, along with the pivotal

1  R.J. Wenke, “Egypt: Origins of Complex Societies”, ARA 18 (1989), 129–155; M. Lehner, “Fractal House of Pharaoh: Ancient Egypt as a Complex Adaptive System, a Trial Formulation”, in: Dynamics in Human and Primate Societies, T.A. Kohler and G.J. Gumerman, eds. (New York & Oxford, 2000), 275–353; more recently, E.C. Köhler, “Early Dynastic Society”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand. Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer, E.-M. Engel et al., eds. (Wiesbaden, 2008), 383–4. 2  U. Hartung, “Zur Entwicklung des Handels und zum Beginn wirtschaftlicher Administration im prädynastischen Ägypten”, SAK 26 (1998), 35–50. 3  I. Regulski, “Scribes in Early Dynastic Egypt”, Fs. Dreyer, 581–611. For the Thinite era, some forty scribes are attested, a significant number given the paucity of the evidence from those periods (P. Piacentini, “Les scribes: trois mille ans de logistique et de gestion des ressources humaines dans l’Égypte ancienne”, in: L’organisation du travail en Égypte ancienne et en Mésopotamie, B. Menu, ed. [Cairo: BdÉ 151, 2010], 109–110). Over the course of the Old Kingdom, the scribal occupation appears to have become more specialized and acquired an internal hierarchy akin to other administrative groupings, a fact that the diversification in the titles bears out (P. Piacentini, BdÉ 151, 110 and note 15).

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development of written forms,4 were to a great degree the result of the imperatives of the emergent, yet seemingly already extensive domestic and regional trade networks. The awareness of the geographical extent of Egypt also played an important role in devising the administrative system. Governing that territory required various state departments to operate in conjunction with, and as an additional layer to their local counterparts. As early as the First Dynasty, some evidence would appear to suggest that the division of the country into districts was already a reality of government, presumably elaborated for the purposes of a more manageable administration.5 This would, of course, imply the existence of an administrative and bureaucratic system that would be in charge of the affairs of each district. This model of territorial division would eventually develop into the nome system,6 around which provincial administration was to be structured as a complement to, but later in competition with the central pharaonic government. Whether a variant of the nome-based system of provincial management was in effect prior to unification as a local phenomenon in some regions of Egypt, and was subsequently absorbed as an organizational standard of the unified state, might be difficult to establish. As with a number of concepts in early Egypt such a development either followed an amalgamation trend from local-tonational, or an imposed one from national-to-local.7 In any event, it appears that the principles required for a functional government were contributing factors to the process itself of state formation and were not notions that were devised and instituted exclusively during the evolution of unified Egypt in the Old Kingdom.

 I. Regulski, “The Origin of Writing in Relation to the Emergence of the Egyptian State” in: Egypt at its Origins 2: Proceedings of the International Conference “Origin of the State, Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, Toulouse (France), 5th–8th September 2005, B. Midant-Reynes et al., eds. (Leuven: OLA 172, 2008), 985–1009. 5  References to “districts (sp¡.wt) of the East/West” of the Delta may allude to such an arrangement (P. Kaplony, Die Inschriften der ägyptischen Frühzeit [Wiesbaden, 1963], vol. 3, pl. 67, nos. 238–239). 6   The term “nome” is used here with full acknowledgment of the pitfalls associated with applying that concept to the earlier periods of Egyptian history; see the pertinent comments on that matter and on the designation of “nomarch” by H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, (Paris, 2008), 5–65. 7  Similar debates exist with respect to the origin of deities and their cults, in particular whether they were native to their respective towns, or were assigned to them by the state (E. Hornung, Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many, J. Baines, trans. [Ithaca, 1982], 70–73). 4



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 43 Sources and Some Limitations

As will be elaborated below, the government was comprised of several major administrative departments, such as granaries and treasuries, each with its own broad responsibilities. These, in turn, incorporated subdivisions that were further specialized in their duties. The integration and the successful performance of the tasks entrusted to those entities necessarily required a multi-layered professional and semi-professional civil service, which became an indispensable component in the development and the implementation of state policies regarding administrative operations. Members of the bureaucratic class operated primarily in a Memphite setting, which may be deemed as unrepresentative of the rest of Egypt. Therefore, evidence available from provincial sources should not be dismissed automatically as being inapplicable to the study of the prevalent national system. Textual documentation from sites such as Balat may offer invaluable insights into administrative organization, as well as the management of resources and labor at the local level.8 For instance, a rather fragmentary clay tablet (no. 7191) from that oasis town offers us glimpses into the adaptability of the workforce and the concentration of labor. The tablet lists various activities, such as grain processing and weaving, apparently being conducted within the same workshop by different individuals, with the totality of the tasks therein being recorded by a single scribe.9 In addition to revealing the absence of a separate workplace for the disparate types of occupations, the text also draws attention to the fact that scribes would not necessarily be assigned to record a single activity. This also demonstrates an ability on the part of the Egyptians to manage human resources to their full potential and illustrates that, unlike modern perceptions of bureaucracy as rigid and unwieldy, ancient administrative organization may have been much more adaptable and flexible.

8  L. Pantalacci, “La documentation épistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à BalatʿAyn Asīl”, BIFAO 98 (1998), 303–315; Id., “L’administration royale et l’administration locale au gouvernorat de Balat d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 153–160; L. Pantalacci in G. Soukiassian, M. Wuttmann, and L. Pantalacci, Le palais des gouverneurs de l’époque de Pépy II: les sanctuaires de ka et leurs dépendances (Cairo, 2002). 9  L. Pantalacci, “Organisation et contrôle du travail dans la province oasite à la fin de l’Ancien Empire” in: L’organisation du travail en Égypte ancienne et en Mésopotamie, edited by B. Menu, BdÉ 151, 145.

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The decorated tombs of state employees located overwhelmingly in the Memphite area, and some others that were in districts beyond, serve as the primary data source for administrative titles; this is supplemented to a small extent by the Abusir archives from the cult temples of Neferirkare and Raneferef.10 Such a corpus tends to engender an imbalance with respect to the evidence, which would necessarily be biased towards officials serving in the ranks of the national administration and who resided primarily in the Memphite region. Furthermore, this leads to studying Egyptian administration based exclusively on the listing of titles and the broad description of offices and departments with which officials were affiliated, rather than revolving around the analysis of the administrative and bureaucratic framework that sanctioned and facilitated the functioning of those units. The use of status epithets on the one hand, and indicators of rank and occupation on the other, have always been considered as the prerogative of Old Kingdom élites and as a barometer for the degrees of success in their professional career, with several seminal studies devoted to their examination.11 There has been a heavy reliance in modern studies on this corpus of titles for the formulation of proposals, given their undeniable utility in a range of issues that deal with the evolution of administration, bureaucracy and government throughout centuries, but also with societal change that those developments may have engendered. In spite of those benefits, we are faced with the prospect that a number of modern readings of titles and epithets remain conjectural. From a lexical point of view, the very common approach has been to translate the constituents of a title and its compounds in order to achieve a workable translation. Very often, however, such an exercise leads to uneven interpretations, or worse to renderings that make little sense when applied to our understanding of the society and the administrative reality of ancient Egypt. For example, the ­translation

10  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï (Les papyrus d’Abousir): traduction et commentaire. 2 vols. (Cairo, 1976); P. Posener-­Kriéger, M. Verner, and H. Vymazalová. The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef. The Papyrus Archive (Prague, 2006). 11   K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom. The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties, (Chicago, 1960); N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. (London, 1985); M. Baud, Famille Royale et pouvoir sous l’ancien empire égyptien, 2 vols. (Cairo: BdÉ 126, 1999); D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom, 2 vols. (Oxford, 2000).



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 45

of the very common epithet of smr w ʿty as “sole companion” means very little in the absence of the proper social frame of reference in which it was used millennia ago. The inability of modern languages to apply a suitable translation evenly to all variants of a given title likewise creates discrepancies. The rather arcane English translation of “liegeman” (a feudal vassal, or in an extended sense a loyal individual ) appears among the primary interpretations of the ancient Egyptian h̠ry-tp ny-sw.t and titles associated with it. Although h̠ry-tp ny-sw.t m¡ʿ as “true king’s liegeman”12 might not be too objectionable, should the same meaning be applied to h̠ry-tp šnw.t13 the resulting hypothetical translation of “liegeman of the granary” would be unworkable, as the granary was neither a feudal lord, nor was it likely to elicit any bonds of loyalty from its personnel. An occupational title could generally lead to an improper understanding of the functioning of the office and the duties of its holder, unless employed in conjunction with additional available evidence. In essence, the translation and interpretation of titles is destined to occur in precisely such a vacuum despite our best efforts, and even in-depth lexical analysis of each epithet or title might not yield the absolute correct meaning desired in the absence of the requisite social reference. Therefore, the analysis of titles becomes trapped in circumstances which force the modern researcher to impose meanings and functions that may potentially be inapplicable to the historical reality of ancient Egypt. Such hazards, of course, are not limited to the translation of titles, but apply to a fair number of aspects of the study of ancient Egypt. Central Administration At the outset the nature of the Old Kingdom centralized administrative system needs to be accurately defined,14 which would allow it to serve as a backdrop for the description of the various departments and their operations. Furthermore, concise comments and caveats are requisite regarding the use and shortcomings of certain types of evidence.  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 790 [n° 2881].  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 792–3 [n° 2892]. 14  A very apt summary of that notion pertaining to ancient Egypt as a whole can be found in J.G. Manning, The Last Pharaohs (Princeton, 2010), 163. 12 13

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These initial statements are aimed at positioning the discussion within correct parameters both to ensure the proper analysis of the sources and to prevent any proposals from gaining any significance beyond their threshold. The Profile of the Top Administrators Pharaoh, by means of his divine office, was the head of state and the topmost administrator of Egypt, and acted as the overall guarantor of the economy and the governmental structure in charge of its operation. The Egyptian royal house(hold) consequently has always reached far beyond the confines of its residential connotation and into an active role at the forefront of the administration of the state. During the Early Dynastic period a strong centralizing trend had been in effect in the administrative realm, with pharaoh’s sons and grandsons occupying elevated ranks.15 Beginning in the Fourth Dynasty, fewer members of the royal family remained in high managerial posts, and a consolidation of administrative power took place around Egypt’s highest civilian bureaucrat, namely the vizier, beginning in the Fifth Dynasty.16 The choice of the noun “vizier” to designate the office (t¡yty s¡b t̠¡ty in Egyptian) is more indicative of the breadth of responsibilities inherent in that ancient position than it is as a modern equivalent for the string of elements in the title, which themselves do not denote any specific occupation.17 Essentially, the vizier acted as the link, both personally and in an administrative capacity,18 between pharaoh and his government, principally with respect to the transmission of commands and implementation of policy. In addition, as chief operating officer of the state, the vizier oversaw the entire state administrative system and his office maintained direct and unrestricted control over a range of entities, such as granaries and treasuries, until the appearance of specialized departments sometime in the Fifth Dynasty. This development may certainly have been prompted by the vizier as a way 15   J.S. Nolan, Mud Sealings and Fourth Dynasty Administration at Giza, Ph.D. dissertation (Chicago, 2010), 332–3. 16  Pharaoh’s sons and grandsons remained the exclusive holders of that office still in the Fourth Dynasty ( J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 333), but not in the Fifth (J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 342–3). 17  N. Strudwick, Administration, 300. 18   This close relationship is also manifest in the proximity of the burial place of viziers (much more so than other high officials) and pharaoh (M. Bárta, “The Title Inspector of the Palace during the Egyptian Old Kingdom”, ArOr 67 [1999], 9).



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 47

for him to divest some of the daily oversight of resource management that is assumed to have been part of his duties prior to that time. The office of the vizier still retained overall control of the system, despite the resulting multiplication of bureaucratic offices and titles that coincided with the creation of the new departments.19 The Notion of Centralization The prevailing view about Egypt, especially during the Old Kingdom, remains one that displays features of a centralized state.20 Centralization as a concept in and of itself, and as it pertains to the management of resources, needs to be moderated and aligned with the available evidence, to avoid constraining the description of the system within rigid boundaries.21 Although the proper management and movement of various types of resources became hallmarks of the Egyptian state, the central administrative structure of the Old Kingdom should not be conceptualized as being a single hub through which the entire agricultural yield of the country would transit on its way to be redistributed on a national scale. Nor should the state be assumed of micromanaging local affairs through the use of its complex bureaucratic system.22 The major impediment to the notion of state-wide centralization and redistribution of resources would first and foremost be geographical. Despite the lack of political borders that would delineate their state in the modern sense, Egyptians in the Old Kingdom accepted Elephantine as their southernmost border,23 while the northern end would naturally not extend beyond the Mediterranean. These boundaries remained essentially unchanged for millennia, notwithstanding aggressive periods of expansion into Nubia and the Levant. In addition to the established

  J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 323, 343, and 345.  R.J. Wenke, “Egypt: Origins of Complex Societies,” ARA 18 (1989), 144 and 147. 21   The structure of Ptolemaic Egypt, for instance, was understood by Rostovtzeff to be “despotic” in its economic and administrative management (that is to say, heavily centralized and centralizing), an opinion that is no longer valid (A. Monson, “Royal Land in Ptolemaic Egypt: A Demographic Model”, version 2.0, Princeton/Stanford Working Papers in Classics [January 2007], 2; J.G. Manning, “The Ptolemaic economy, institutions, economic integration, and the limits of centralized political power”, Version 1.0, Princeton/Stanford Working Papers in Classics [April 2005], passim). 22  M. Lehner, “Fractal House of Pharaoh”, 275–276. 23  Elephantine was considered as the southern boundary of Upper Egypt, as elicited from Weni the elder’s biography (Urk. I, 101:11), among other sources. 19 20

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extent of their territory along the Nile valley, the inhabited oases in the western desert or semi-permanent settlements along the Red Sea coast need to be included within the jurisdictional administrative zones.24 The organization of such a system from a focal point would be prohibitive, given Egypt’s vast landmass, the remoteness of most parts of the country from the seat of the government or the supposed national hub, and the extreme logistical pressures that such a process would entail. Nevertheless, exceptions to this notion may at times occur, as some important resources appear to have been supplied to various communities from a single point. This may have been the case with the state administration of cattle,25 which were reared on a large scale in regions suitable for their development.26 But considering their capability of being driven long distances, livestock may have been dispatched throughout Egypt, in accordance with the requirements of the state, and slaughtered only at the recipient site.27 A prime illustration of this type of operation may lie at the western Delta town of Kom el-Hisn,28 which may have played a considerable role in supplying royal work centers in the Memphite area. It appears that cattle at Kom el-Hisn were reserved solely for export, because they remain absent from the site’s zooarchaeological evidence (hence from the diet of the locals), and may have served to provision the pyramid-building operations at Giza.29 A process of this kind illustrates the organizational capabilities of the central government in managing a resource at both the 24  See B. Menu, “La mise en place des structures étatiques dans l’Égypte du IVe millénaire”, BIFAO 103 (2003), 310, for the geographical extent of settled areas in the formative periods of the state. 25  For concise comments regarding cattle administration in general, see W. Ghoneim, Die ökonomische Bedeutung des Rindes im Alten Ägypten (Bonn, 1977), 241–50; Old Kingdom sources and administrative matters relating to cattle are discussed by J.C. Moreno García, “J’ai rempli les pâturages de vaches tachetées . . . Bétail, économie royale et idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire”, RdÉ 50 (1999), 241–4. 26   R.W. Redding and B.V. Hunt, “Pyramids and Protein”, website of Ancient Egypt Research Associates . 27  Although rare in the archaeological record, one such slaughterhouse has been excavated within the complex of Raneferef in Abusir (M. Verner, The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef. The Archaeology. Abusir IX [Prague, 2006], 87–99). 28  M.-F. Moens and W. Wetterstrom, “The Agricultural Economy of an Old Kingdom Town in Egypt’s West Delta: Insights from Plant Remains”, JNES 47 (1988), 159–173. 29   R.W. Redding, “Egyptian Old Kingdom Patterns of Animal Use and the Value of Faunal Data in Modeling Socioeconomic Systems”, Paléorient 18:2 (1992), 101–106; R.W. Redding and B.V. Hunt, “Pyramids and Protein”.



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 49

­ roduction and consumption ends, across many districts, for the purp pose of providing for tens out thousands of workers and support staff on a major state project for many decades. An undertaking of that nature clearly reflects the socio-economic objectives of the Egyptian government of the Old Kingdom, which were aimed at managing massive royal construction projects, guaranteeing the upkeep of existing foundations and, above all, meeting remuneration obligations to state employees throughout the country. The latter remained of primordial concern and was accomplished outright through payments of various kinds to individuals registered on rosters at royal memorial establishments (elucidated from the Abusir and Raneferef archives) and state agricultural estates in the provinces (gleaned from the Gebelein papyri), or disguised as recurrent royal or divine offerings that recipients proudly noted in their tomb ­inscriptions. Therefore, the reality in Old Kingdom Egypt appears to betray an arrangement whereby the state controlled vast amounts of resources and insured their proper interchange, in line with its commitments. However, certain priorities were unique to given communities and would necessitate local control and standards, principally in regulating irrigation and basins,30 but also in a great number of other spheres dealing with resource management, such as granary maintenance. Accordingly, it is more than likely that the provincial structure would adopt and duplicate, on a reduced scale and with some variations, the principles, composition, and modus operandi of the central state administration,31 while remaining adaptable enough to fulfill the purely local requirements of its communities. The Old Kingdom state integrated and managed national resources, but gradually also established regional administrative mechanisms, though it continued to oversee and conduct the affairs of the central government across the country through its representatives, both locally-based and dispatched on (com)missions. This is akin to what Menu terms “administration démultipliée”, which is both a vertical segmentation (the hierarchical national bureaucratic structure headed by the vizier) and a horizontal  C.J. Eyre, “How relevant was personal status to the functioning of the rural economy in pharaonic Egypt?”, in: La dépendance rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdÉ 140, 2004), 161; also, A. Belluccio, “L’inspecteur des canaux dans l’Ancien Empire”, in: Les problèmes institutionels de l’eau en Égypte ancienne et dans l’antiquité méditerranéenne, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdÉ 110, 1994) 37–46. 31  M. Lehner, “Fractal House”, 278 and 284. 30

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one spread throughout the country.32 Thus, uniformity, rather than rigid centralization, would perhaps represent a more appropriate designation of the prevalent system,33 which proliferates the operational methods of the central government throughout the various districts of Egypt. Royal Residences and Administration The central government based in Memphis was the king’s management instrument and appears to have been organized, particularly in the latter parts of the Old Kingdom, around two major units, namely the pr-ny-sw.t and the h̠nw.34 These were among the five distinct designations for the royal household that were in common usage at varying times during the Old Kingdom,35 and which have been rendered simply as “palace” or “residence” in some context or another, terms that are applied liberally in secondary Egyptological literature to any entity that alludes to a combined association of king and house; the others included ʿḥ , stp-s¡, and also pr-ʿ¡, which was more frequently attested yet restricted in its use and context.36 Prior to the Third Dynasty prny-sw.t and ʿḥ were the only names associated with the royal court and central administration,37 but the growing complexity of the system of economic management in the later Old Kingdom engendered an expansion of the terminology for pharaonic residences.38 Consequently, royal residences remain of extreme relevance to the discussion, as they provided the model for the design of the administrative system and served as the impetus for its management, especially with respect to commodities and various other resources.

  B. Menu, BIFAO 103 (2003), 307.  Such a feature has been observed in ceramic assemblages, for instance (R.J. Wenke, in ARA 18 [1989], 147). 34  W. Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Alten Ägypten im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend vor Chr., 95–7; also see C.J. Eyre, “Work and the Organisation of Work in the Old Kingdom”, in Labor in the Ancient Near East, M.A. Powell, ed. (New Haven, 1987), 39. 35  O. Goelet, Two Aspects of the Royal Palace in the Egyptian Old Kingdom, Ph.D. dissertation (Ann Arbor, 1982), passim. 36  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 536–8. 37  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 6–7 and 478. 38   The pr-ʿ¡ appears in the Fourth Dynasty, while the h̠nw is first attested in the Fifth ( J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 344). 32 33



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 51

Ancient designations for notions such as royal residence remain difficult to define or translate correctly. This deficiency is due partly to their improper or incomplete lexical analysis, but mostly to the absence of the type of archaeological evidence from the Old Kingdom that would allow us to create equivalents between the term and its corresponding physical structure, if any.39 The modern term “palace” may not encapsulate the diverse character of Early Dynastic and Old Kingdom royal houses, which may have been either residential, governmental/administrative, ceremonial, or different combinations thereof. The resulting discrepancy inevitably affects the meaning, function, and, more importantly, our understanding of the divergent character of entities such as pr-ny-sw.t, h̠nw, ʿḥ or pr-ʿ¡ within the administrative reality of ancient Egypt. With respect to the ʿḥ , for example, some would favor a more ceremonial character for it, with links to various deities,40 although in the Early Dynastic it seems to have conveyed the meaning of palace in the modern understanding of the word41 as the king’s dwelling.42 In parallel its administrative structure appears originally to focus on managing the private wealth and resources of the king. As such, the title ḫ rp ʿḥ , “controller of the palace”, for instance, essentially designates the personal attendant to the king, and whose duties appear to have been taken over by the vizier in the Sixth ­ Dynasty.43 The pr-ʿ¡, for its part, appears more as a reference in the

39  On the latter point, see S. Quirke, “The Residence in Relations between Places of Knowledge, Production and Power: Middle Kingdom evidence”, in: Egyptian Royal Residences, R. Gundlach and J.H. Taylor, eds. (Wiesbaden: Königtum, Staat und Geselschaft früher Hochkulturen 4:1, 2009), 115. 40   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 80–1. Although slightly outside the scope of the present study, it is worth noting that the association of ʿḥ with divinity and also the king could have been intentional, as references such as “Horus in his ʿḥ ” may in fact carry a double-entendre (see R. Gundlach’s extensive discussion of this and associated topics in: Egyptian Royal Residences, 45–67). 41  R. Gundlach defines this as the “seat of Horus”, though based on post-Old Kingdom evidence (“ ‘Horus in the Palace’: The center of state and culture in pharaonic Egypt”, in: Egyptian Royal Residences, R. Gundlach and J.H. Taylor, eds. [Wiesbaden: Königtum, Staat und Geselschaft früher Hochkulturen 4:1, 2009], 60). 42  E. Martin-Pardey, “Das ‘Haus Des Königs’ Pr-Nswt”, in Gedenkschrift für Winfried Barta: ḥ tp dj n ḥ zj, D. Kessler and R. Schulz, eds. (Frankfurt am Main: MÄU 4, 1995), 269. The term ʿḥ may at times be nondescript and not specific to kingship, as in the noun-group ʿḥ nt̠r (D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 81 [n° 349]), which may not refer necessarily to the king. 43  M. Bárta, ArOr 67 (1999), 16. The title was attested in the First Dynasty but not in the Second and the Third, only to reappear in the record during Dynasty 4 and more abundantly in Dynasty 5.

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abstract to the dominion of the king and often assumes that particular dimension with respect to state land, from which holdings were apportioned to tenant-officials, a great many of whom were designated as ḫ nty-š pr-ʿ¡ in the late Old Kingdom.44 In other circumstances, the pr-ʿ¡ is mentioned in connection with state work centers, where stone carving is said to be conducted.45 Regardless of the inherent difficulties in properly rendering these ancient terms, the evidence at our disposal points towards a direct involvement of royal units in the management of governmental affairs of early Egypt. It is believed that the modular aspects (as Nolan designates them) of the overall administrative system may also be reflected in, or derived from, the earlier uses of these structures.46 There is a strong likelihood that the residence itself of early kings incorporated within it a bureaucratic organization that managed from that one central location both the king’s personal affairs and those concerned with the broader government. The term ἰs (Wb. I, 127:2–3), commonly translated as “bureau” in administrative settings or in honorific titles of the Early Dynastic and the Old Kingdom,47 may in fact allude to the administrative offices or subdivisions that made up parts of early royal residences.48 Units such as the ἰs-d̠f¡ “provisions department”, ἰs n (pr)ny-sw.t “bureau of royal chancery” (Urk. I, 281:8), ἰs.wy n h̠kr-ny-sw.t49 “the twin bureaus of the h̠kr-ny-sw.t” (Urk. I, 177:15), ἰs n ḥ mwty “department of craftsmen”,50 or the honorific title ἰmy-ἰs “chancellor” may derive from that earlier tradition. An additional indication of the probable function of the ἰs may be sought in the development of some

 M. Baud, “La date d’apparition des ḫ ntjw-š”, BIFAO 96 (1996), 30–32.   The inscription of Rawer states that Neferirkare authorized that a royal pronouncement be engraved in the stone workshop of the pr-ʿ¡ for the benefit of that official (Urk. I, 232:15); also see J.P. Allen, “Rēʿwer’s Accident” in: Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (London, 1992), 20, note 35. 46   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 82–3. 47   The noun generally refers to any room or enclosed space, and was also among the designations for “tomb” (Wb. I, 126:18–22). 48  It is worth noting that in the New Kingdom ἰs.t is used as one of the terms for the royal palace or some of its sections (Wb. I, 127:7). 49   The ἰs.wy n h̠kr-ny-sw.t is believed to have been associated with the Treasury (N. Strudwick, Administration, 281, 286, 290), though in the passage cited here (Urk. I, 177:14–16), those two entities are listed as contributing offerings independently. 50  A. Moussa and H. Altenmüller, Das Grab des Nianchchnum und Chnumhotep (Mainz am Rhein, 1977), pl. 65. The captions indicate that Nyankhkhnum is in the process of inspecting the work in every department of the craftsmen. 44 45



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 53

of its constituents. For example, just as the designation s.t-d̠f¡ “place of provisions” begins to emerge as the equivalent of ἰs-d̠f¡ in the early Old Kingdom,51 the evidence begins to include notations such as s.wt nb.t n.t h̠nw “all the departments (literally “places”) of the h̠nw”,52 which may be the later development of, and analogous to all the ἰs-bureaus of early royal residences. The Nature and Components of the pr-ny-sw.t and the h̠nw The pr-ny-sw.t, first attested during the reign of king Djet (or king “Serpent”),53 may have initially designated the personal domain of the king, but perhaps not his place of residence.54 Some consider that plots and endowments allotted to various early foundations by pharaoh originated from the holdings reserved to the pr-ny-sw.t.55 Despite these contentions, which are in no way incompatible with its character, the origin of the pr-ny-sw.t could be sought within a residential framework,56 an aspect that may either have been de-emphasized or diluted very quickly over the course of Dynasties 0 and 1. In effect, just like the ʿḥ discussed above, the function of the original pr-ny-sw.t may have been manifold, serving both as a king’s dwelling and as a locus for royal administration.57 Over the course of its development during the Old Kingdom it would come to designate, along with its more formal equivalent of pr-ny-sw.t,58 the framework of the central, royal administration of Old Kingdom Egypt.59 Sixth Dynasty evidence appears to refer specifically to this more abstract arrangement, in which pr-ny-sw.t seems to connote simply the

51  W. Helck, Untersuchungen zu den Beamtentiteln des ägyptischen Alten Reiches (Glückstadt, 1954), 59–60. 52  H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (Wiesbaden, 1967), 60. 53   J. Kahl, “nsw und bỉt: Die Anfänge”, in: Zeichen aus dem Sand. Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer, E.-M. Engel et al., eds. (Wiesbaden, 2008), 320. 54   T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt (London, 1999), 133. 55  G. Husson and D. Valbelle, L’état et les institutions en Égypte des premiers pharaons aux empereurs romains (Paris, 1992), 29. 56   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 82–3, and W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 72. 57  M. Bárta, ArOr 67 (1999), 15. For titles connected with pr-ny-sw.t’s administrative organization in the Early Dynastic, see D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 385 [n° 1425]; vol. 2, 690 [n° 2524], 713–4 [n° 2603], 896 [n° 3289], among others. 58  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 499. 59   J. Kahl, in Fs. Dreyer, 320–1; E. Martin-Pardey, “Haus Des Königs”, 269–285; H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 98, 244.

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government. For instance, the provisions of a decree issued by Pepy I exempted Snefru’s pyramid foundations at Dahshur from contributing labor to the pr-ny-sw.t.60 Similarly, certain Sixth Dynasty officials outside of Memphis carry titles such as ἰmy-r¡ pr-ny-sw.t “overseer (or “representative”) of the royal administration”, which, assuming they exercised their functions in their home district, would refer to the local agency of the national government.61 Such data are also indicative of the branching out of the central administration and its departments into various regions outside Memphis, with its officials in charge of the oversight of state affairs rather than of matters relating to the king’s residence in the narrowest sense. It is perhaps worth mentioning that the title ἰmy-r¡ pr-ny-sw.t, along with ἰmy-ḫ t pr-ny-sw.t and the extremely rare sḥ d̠ pr-ny-sw.t, become prevalent only in the late Old Kingdom, while others to which pr-ny-sw.t is suffixed, such as wr, smr, ḫ nty, and ḫ rp, appear to be confined to the periods preceding and including the Third Dynasty.62 The nature of the second grouping of titles just cited, which are predominantly honorific, hints at a more exclusive and intimate type of service rendered by high officials to the king and his household (not unlike that of the ḫ rp ʿḥ , mentioned above) during a period in which the pr-ny-sw.t had not yet acquired its more abstract reference to the system of central government. In other instances, it is probable, though slightly unlikely, that the writing of pr-ny-sw.t was reduced to ny-sw.t in the composition of titles. While such a proposal may be imposed upon ḫ tm šnw.t ny-sw.t “sealer of the royal/state granary”, wr pr-ḥ d̠ ny-sw.t “manager of the royal/state Treasury”, or even ἰm-r¡ šnw.t nb.t n.t ny-sw.t “overseer of every granary of the state/king”, the implication of accounting for such nuances lies in the fact that a majority of such titles could conceivably be considered as part of the state administration called pr-ny-sw.t were they not to antedate the end of the Fifth and beginning of the Sixth Dynasties, a phase during which the pr-ny-sw.t received its more conceptual connotation. Nevertheless, the pr-ny-sw.t becomes representative of the transformation and expansion of a system initially devised for managing the king’s personal domain into one that both retains

 H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 244 and note 60.   K.R. Lepsius, Denkmäler aus Ägypten und Äthiopen, II, pls. 112e and 113b, both from Sheikh Saïd. 62  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 385 [n° 1425], and vol. 2, 713–4 [n° 2603], respectively. 60 61



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that aspect, but also adds the abstraction represented by the notion of “state administration”. References to the pr-ny-sw.t at times appear in conjunction with the gs-pr. This compound noun has often been understood as a workshop or work center,63 and the analysis of most occurrences of the term appears to justify that definition.64 However, that characterization may be an incomplete one and it remains likely that the gs-pr may have been much less precise in its features, although in all probability it did denote a physical space, and not a theoretical organizational concept. The gs-pr of the pr-ny-sw.t, for instance, also appears in connection with cattle,65 which reinforces the position of that particular resource as being under the management of the central administration. It should be noted, however, that the gs-pr did not maintain an exclusive connection to the pr-ny-sw.t, but is attested in other contexts as well, specifically with the pr-ny-sw.t,66 and with a common estate (Urk. I, 220:1). Therefore, a more suitable description of it might perhaps be that of an annex (an apt rendition of gs “side”) or a branch of the greater institution with which it was affiliated. In the case of the pr-ny-sw.t those might be actual storerooms and workshops located in the Memphite area or across the country that would facilitate the work performed on behalf of the central administration, be that construction work or cattle management, in those regions. The gs-pr appears to have a rather streamlined administrative structure, which to my knowledge employed only overseers (ἰmy.w-r¡) as among its ­supervisory staff.67

 O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 501–5.  H.G. Fischer, “An Old Kingdom Monogram”, ZÄS 93 (1966), 66–8. 65  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 495 and 504; H.G. Fischer, ZÄS 93 (1966), 66. A single title that appears to mention cattle in connection with the h̠nw (discussed with caveats by Goelet, Royal Palace, 126–31) remains dubious given the uncertainty surrounding its composition (H.G. Fischer, “Review of: Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, etc., Part I”, BiOr 19 [1962], 244). 66   J.-L. de Cenival and P. Posener-Kriéger, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum. Fifth Series: The Abu Sir Papyri (London, 1968), pl. 73B. This fragment includes a mention of the gs-pr pr-ḥ d̠ and not the unique attestation of the hypothetical “pr pr-ḥ d̠” as Strudwick proposes (in Administration, 294). Posener-Kriéger similarly accepts a reading of gs-pr “atelier” (Les papyrus d’Abousir, vol. 2, 684 under gs-pr) or generally as the administration of the Treasury (Les papyrus d’Abousir, vol. 2, 426). 67   The range of titles may be found in D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 269–70 [n° 969–74]. Note that the dual gs.wy-pr appears to denote the two sides of the Delta, which might result in some confusion in some instances (H.G. Fischer, ZÄS 93 [1966], 66 and note 39). But if examined in the proper context, the uncertainty should be voided. 63 64

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The use of the term h̠nw, literally “interior” but commonly rendered vaguely as “residence” in administrative and governmental contexts, is rife with lexicographical complexity.68 Despite the inadequate translations, the h̠nw maintained a distinct association with the king,69 regardless of the holder of the office of pharaoh, and possessed an undeniable centrality in administrative matters and resource management. In his biographical inscription, Weni the elder claims that he assessed all levies and service that were due to the h̠nw in Upper Egypt (Urk. I, 106:7–8—reign of Merenre),70 while earlier in the text a great barge of the h̠nw had transported his sarcophagus from Tura (Urk. I, 99:15—reign of Pepy I). Pepy II requests that Harkhuf deliver the dwarf in his care to the h̠nw (Urk. I, 130:16), where the king himself dwelt, while officials sent on missions on behalf of the king are said to return to the h̠nw upon the completion of their assignment (Urk. I, 220:16). Therefore, these selected mentions of h̠nw betray the administratively active nature of that unit, which operated a fleet of freighters, appears to draw revenue from Upper Egypt,71 and dispatched state employees to carry out various projects associated with the reigning king. Thus, just like the pr-ny-sw.t, the h̠nw appears to possess a distinct administrative structure, and its operational reach extended to areas beyond Memphis. Unlike the late Old Kingdom pr-ny-sw.t, the h̠nw does indeed appear to denote a physical space that served both as an administrative hub and as residential quarters for pharaoh; thus, the Early Dynastic ʿḥ , as described above, may perhaps serve as the closest analogy to late Old Kingdom h̠nw. There is a definite likelihood that a complex of buildings with specific functions was part of the h̠nw, as the designation of s.wt nb.t n.t h̠nw “all of the departments (literally, places) of the h̠nw” highlights.72 It must be noted, however, that no town in particular should be identified as the h̠nw of the king, nor should Memphis be referred to as such, given that the term does not appear to convey ­permanence

 See some of the comments by S. Quirke, “Residence”, 111–15.  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 153–59. 70   The distinctness in the type of service rendered to the h̠nw and the pr-ny-sw.t are made explicit in certain texts (see H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 244 and note 60). 71   This is very reminiscent of Early Dynastic notations of ἰp Šmʿ “Upper Egyptian (ac)count” (W.M.F. Petrie, Abydos, vol. 1 [London, 1902], pl. 1). 72   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 82. 68 69



departments, treasuries, granaries and work centers 57

in that respect.73 Each dynasty or even individual ruler may move the h̠nw around for a variety of reasons, such as proximity to the royal cemetery and major royal construction projects. The mobility of such a system allows for maximum adaptability of the administrative and bureaucratic structures to the changing requirements of government, and would then allow them to be placed closer to the material and human resources that they need to utilize. Despite the close association that they maintain with the king and the royal house, it is important to emphasize that the pr-ny-sw.t and the h̠nw represented distinct, parallel, and complementary administrative arrangements, and neither appears to have been a subsidiary of the other. The layout of an entry in the archives of Neferirkare’s temple, which places the h̠nw nearly at the head of the quadrant74 and lists the pr-ny-sw.t (along with a third foundation named Ḥ w.tḤ r-s.t-ἰb-t¡.wy) as among the sources of the commodities sent to the temple has commonly been put forth as evidence for devising a hierarchy between the pr-ny-sw.t and the h̠nw.75 In reality, the h̠nw of the reigning king acts as an intermediary between the donor entities and the temple of Neferirkare, a role that has been firmly established by numerous entries in these archives.76 Therefore, within this particular account the pr-ny-sw.t and Ḥ w.t-Ḥ r-s.t-ἰb-t¡.wy represent the origin of the supplies, which were being forwarded to the cult of ­Neferirkare through the agency of the h̠nw, and none of the three entities involved in the process is a subsidiary of the other(s). Duality and Unity in Resource Administration Concurrent with the development of administrative and bureaucratic forms connected with the Residence and the proliferation of its designations in Early Dynastic and Old Kingdom Egypt, a delineation appears to emerge between the wealth directly connected with the person of the king and his office on the one hand,77 and the resources 73  S. Quirke, “Review of Louise Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel”, BiOr 46 (1989), 586–7. 74   J.-L. de Cenival and P. Posener-Kriéger, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum. Fifth Series, pl. 50. 75  W. Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 96; O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 71. 76  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les papyrus d’Abousir, vol. 1, 333, note c. 77   J.C. Darnell, “The Chief Baker”, JEA 75 (1989), 219, note 1. This separation made it so that an official in the capacity of a royal sealer (ḫ tmw ny-sw.t) would exercise his functions independently from the (state) Treasury (pr-ḥ d̠). See also P. Vernus,

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of the state on the other;78 the latter, of course, were also managed under the auspices and control of pharaoh. This duality in the administrative realm is key to understanding a system that consisted of the parallel management of those two categories of wealth, which appear to have been segregated and designated by distinct names at different times (pr-ny-sw.t and h̠nw, for instance, for the latter parts of the Old Kingdom), yet they may have been managed, at least in the Memphite area, by the same corps of officials. By all indications, those two spheres were interlocked and interdependent and there is no evidence to suggest that one or the other would be exempt from contributing positively to the welfare of the state. Administrative units, such as granaries, and treasuries (which included commodity management sub-departments—see below) appear almost entirely connected with the h̠nw to the near exclusion of the pr-ny-sw.t. Nolan concludes that the h̠nw’s associations rested principally with civil matters, while the pr-ny-sw.t dealt nearly exclusively with cultic and offering contexts.79 The latter point is not meant to relegate the pr-ny-sw.t to being a religious entity, but rather to highlight the inherently administrative character concealed within the cultic requirement of subsidizing and patronizing royal memorial establishments. The same extends to the disbursement of entitlements to affiliated officials and their families, in which the h̠nw was also a participant. The exemptions from a number of obligations stipulated by certain Sixth Dynasty royal decrees might elucidate the distinction in the character of these two parallel systems. It is highly likely that the h̠nw was principally concerned with actual commodity and resource management, while the pr-ny-sw.t dealt with more intangible types of administrative requirements. As such, for example, imposts (md̠d) were levied by the h̠nw,80 whereas work duties (k¡t) were usually due to the pr-ny-sw.t81 and may have been organized at various gs.w-pr or even conducted there. As a result, beginning in the Fifth Dynasty the major responsibilities as regards revenue collection and subsequent processing were focused at the h̠nw, which necessitated operating

“Observations sur le titre ἰmy-r¡ ḫ tmt”, in: Grund und Boden in Altägypten, S. Allam, ed., (Tübingen, 1994), 256. 78   J.G. Manning, The Last Pharaohs, 163. 79   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 81. 80   Urk. I, 214:17—decree of Pepy I for his mother’s Coptite foundation. 81   Urk. I, 210:3—decree of Pepy I for the benefit of Snefru’s twin pyramid-towns.



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national granary and Treasury departments. Although unambiguous references to the pr-ny-sw.t and commodity management units remain absent, it would be difficult to acknowledge that one of the two administrative pillars of the Egyptian state would be devoid of such facilities, given that offerings (which usually undergo processing of some sort) are said to originate from it. Granaries Nature and Status of Granary Administration No resource occupies as central a place in the overall functioning of the Egyptian economy as grain. Every collective in Egyptian society, whether a town or a village, maintained grain storage facilities. These institutions would function as the primary source for wage and ration disbursement in an economy that was still millennia away from using coinage.82 Of course, the same would extend to royal temples and memorial foundations, which used grain and other commodities as currency, as well as to individuals who would remunerate workers, such as tomb builders, in kind.83 The management of grain resources thus gains precedence, as well as its own bureaucratic apparatus, within the structure of the state. The dependence of baking and brewing, the quintessential mainstays of Egyptian commodity processing,84 on various types of cereals,85 results in them being usually conducted next to one another86 and being supplied from a single source, namely the granaries. The administrative system included two distinct types of those institutions: the šnw.t (which refers to an individual storage silo, or

82   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization, 2nd ed. (London & New York, 2006), 171ff. 83  D. Mueller, “Some Remarks on Wage Rates in the Middle Kingdom”, JNES 34 (1975), 260 and notes 51–2 for Old Kingdom evidence. 84  D. Faltings, “Die Bierbrauerei im AR”, ZÄS 118 (1991), 104–16, for a fairly comprehensive overview of the brewing process, layout of tomb representations of beer making, vessel types, and the like. 85  Regarding the types of Egyptian grains and the stages of their handling, see D. Samuel, “Ancient Egyptian Cereal Processing: Beyond the Artistic Record”, CAJ 3 (1993), 276–283. 86   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 2nd ed., 172–3; also D. Samuel, “Ancient Egyptian Bread and Beer: An Interdisciplinary Approach”, in: Biological Anthropology and the Study of Ancient Egypt, W.V. Davies and R. Walker, eds. (London, 1993), 156–64.

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a granary complex) and the dual šnw.t, which was attested far more abundantly in titles. It remains unlikely that these two were identical, as there were separate overseers of the šnw.t and the šnw.ty of the h̠nw, for instance.87 The available sources do not allow a clear delineation of their differences and the nuances that may have existed between the two may no longer be discernible. But this should not preclude suggestions regarding their status to be put forth. The appellation šnw.ty enters into the administrative vocabulary in an extremely limited fashion sometime in the late Third Dynasty, that is roughly simultaneously as the dual noun pr.wy-ḥ d̠, discussed further below. The choice of the dual term šnw.ty need not be understood as somehow reflecting the two halves of the unified state, in that each unit would represent Upper and Lower Egypt, respectively. In reality šnw.ty may denote, perhaps even slightly in the abstract, the overall administrative structure of the national granary. Not unexpectedly then, nearly two-thirds of overseers of the double-granary (ἰmy-r¡ šnw.ty) in Memphis were viziers,88 whose functions were unlikely to necessitate in-person supervision of silos and grain transactions that took place at a single granary division, or a šnw.t. Incidentally, this represented the only granaryrelated title borne by viziers,89 and, among the highest administrative functions in the provincial setting, that particular one was carried by the largest number of officials,90 doubtless all part of the bureaucratic élite based in areas outside of Memphis and acting as representatives of the central government. This proposal adheres to the analysis of the Treasury by Helck, who would ascribe to the overseers of the twin pr.wy-ḥ d̠ an all-inclusive authority over the department itself akin to the one exercised by viziers, while overseers of pr-ḥ d̠-treasuries would supervise individual units.91 To refine that argument further, we may perhaps be allowed to hypothesize that the dual variants reflect the parallel organization that formed the combined national system. The emergence of the h̠nw and the development of its administrative character in the Fifth Dynasty, as well as the consolidation of the pr-ny-sw.t as the designation for  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 254 [n° 921] and 256 [n° 925], respectively.   Titles of overseers of dual national granaries and the Treasury are absent from the record until the middle of the Fifth Dynasty ( J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 337). 89   The same was true also of the position of overseer of the double-treasury, although a very restricted number of other officials did serve in that office. 90  N. Strudwick, Administration, 259 and 266. 91  W. Helck, Beamtentitel, 61. 87 88



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the central government appear to demarcate this duality along clearer lines: the h̠nw becomes the headquarters of the reigning king and the manager of resources and activities connected more intimately with the office of pharaoh, while the pr-ny-sw.t operates the state administrative apparatus, principally handling governmental requirements with respect to manpower, work centers, and perhaps even the organization of livestock. However, such a suggestion will have to remain somewhat conjectural, as it could become difficult to reconcile it with certain types of evidence. The h̠nw is said to employ overseers of both the šnw.t and the šnw.ty, in addition to those of the pr-ḥ d̠ and the pr.wy-ḥ d̠.92 There exists no hindrance to accepting the šnw.ty in such occurrences as being the national granary branch operating within the administrative structure of the h̠nw. The presence of two granary authorities would perhaps be required by separate wage and payment disbursement undertaken by the h̠nw in support of personnel and foundations that were either its own affiliates or those of the wider state administration. As mentioned above, the Neferirkare archives highlight the role of the h̠nw as the conduit for donations intended for royal foundations, even for those originating at the pr-ny-sw.t or individual royal estates. This function would certainly necessitate the presence of twin layers of commodity administrations within the jurisdiction of the h̠nw, which not only must operate its own granaries and treasuries, but must also maintain a branch of their dual national counterparts within its premises and authority. Incidentally, the h̠nw remains the only administrative entity with broad responsibilities to be associated with double institutions, such as šnw.ty and pr.wy-ḥ d̠.93 Origin and Development of Granaries Several Old Kingdom tombs incorporate depictions of granaries,94 which make up part of bustling scenes with grain being moved in and out of them, while scribes conduct tallying operations in close 92  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 254 [n° 920] and 256 [n° 925] (for ἰmr-r¡ šnw.t and šnw. ty, respectively); 123–4 [n° 492] and 134 [n° 525] (for ἰmy-r¡ pr-ḥ d̠ and pr.wy-ḥ d̠, respectively). 93  O. Goelet, Royal Palace, 105–112, and 135. 94  R. Siebels, “Representations of Granaries in Old Kingdom Egypt”, BACE 12 (2001), 85–99. Also see E. Roik, Das altägyptische Wohnhaus und seine Darstellung im Flachbild (Frankfurt am Main, 1988), vol. 1, 185–8 and associated figures in vol. 2 for a grouping of most available scenes and their description; and M. Saleh, Three Old Kingdom Tombs at Thebes (Mainz am Rhein, 1977), pl. 3.

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­ roximity.95 But references to grain storage are already present in p Early Dynastic inscriptions, and a First Dynasty seal from tomb 3506 in Saqqara depicts a granary within an enclosure,96 an indication perhaps of both the importance and the institutionalized character of that entity. The elongated cylindrical appearance of the sign on this seal is unlike the shape of the hieroglyph for šnw.t (O51) and more akin to a representation of actual silos found in some Old Kingdom tombs.97 Furthermore, a clay model of an enclosed granary with four separate bins, similar but not identical in shape to the tubular silos, was discovered in Abydos and dated to the First Dynasty.98 These storage magazines may not have been reserved exclusively for cereals, as carob beans (wʿḥ ) and figs (d¡b) are shown in the process of being tallied in a granary scene from the Saqqara tomb of Kagemni.99 Textual evidence dating to the Third Dynasty actually illustrates rows of individuals hieroglyphs for šnw.t enclosing within them the words wʿḥ and d¡b, as well as other commodities, such as ἰšd (desert dates) and nbs (zizyphus).100 The early representational evidence for silos or granaries as cylindrical structures finds a parallel in the use of that form as a determinative in the word mḫ r “granary” or “silo” (Wb II, 132:9)101—also mh̠r (Wb II, 134:6) already in the Old Kingdom—102 even though šnw.t is also attested on Early Dynastic material both phonetically and in its conventional hieroglyphic form.103 A possible early attestation of mḫ r

  B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 2nd ed., 171–2.  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 60, no. 217. Kaplony proposes to read the enclosure as wsḫ .t, thus rendering the group as “Speicher der wsḫ .t” (in Inschriften, vol. 2, 1121).   97  See, for example, E. Roik, Wohnhaus, vol. 2, figs. 276 and 279a.   98  W.F.M. Petrie, Tombs of the Courtiers and Oxyrhynkhos, 7, and pl. 8 (384). Additionally, pl. 11 on the bottom right includes line drawings of four other individual clay bins.   99  F.W. von Bissing, Die Mastaba des Gem-ni-kai, vol. 2 (Berlin, 1911), pl. 12. 100   J. Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch, fasc. 1 (Wiesbaden, 2002), 60, and 113–4; fasc. 2, 233. 101   Note that the Belegstellen reference for this entry (from the tomb of Ptahhotep) in the Berlin Wörterbuch needs to be emended from “Quibell, Ramess. 24” to “Quibell, Ramess. 34” (pl. 34 in Quibell’s combined publication of the Ramesseum and the tomb of Ptahhotep). 102  H.G. Fischer, “Old Kingdom Inscriptions in the Yale Gallery”, MIO 7 (1960), 308–309 (especially the figures included within note 18 on page 308); and H.G. Fischer, “Further Remarks on the Gebelein Stelae”, Kush 10 (1962), 334. 103  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 28, no. 73 and pl. 94, no. 366, the latter displaying a series of cylindrical silos. The fourth from the left includes the word šn(w).t   95   96



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occurs on a seal impression104 in the title of an official who was sḥ d̠ mḫ r Nḫ b “inspector of the granary/storehouse of Elkab”.105 This example, which appears to date to the latter part of the Early Dynastic period or to the very beginning of the Old Kingdom,106 contains features that are of relevance to the analysis of a number of administrative realities, not only relating to grain processing, but also with respect to a wider conception of resource management and the application of administrative principles to the Old Kingdom state. First, the mention of the rank of sḥ d̠ implies that a hierarchical structure (which in this case is not Memphite) would have been in place in the early Old Kingdom that dealt with granary administration; this is still more significant, given that the equivalent title for direct inspection of a granary, namely *sḥ d̠ šnw.t, is absent from the repertoire of later Old Kingdom bureaucracy. Until the Fifth Dynasty there does not appear to be any uniformity in the titles of officials serving in the national granary administration, a premise that has led to the assumption that grain was managed under the larger auspices of the office of the vizier (or perhaps that of the overseer of works)107 and conducted by individuals with no identifiable granary titles nor any overt affiliation with that department.108 Moreover, the inclusion of a town’s name in conjunction with a granary would point towards a consolidation and control of ­commodities within the title ḫ tmw šn(w).t written inside the silo, while the adjacent two silos contain the names of the common Egyptian cereals ἰt and bd.t. Although the reading of šn(w).t here may be doubtful, a comparable context groups an unmistakable writing of that word grouped with the same two types of grain (P. Kaplony, Die Rollsiegel des B Alten Reichs [Brussels, 1981], vol. II , pl. 166, no 92). The shape of these silos on a piece from the reign of Qa’a is identical to the ones that are depicted in Old Kingdom tombs and those used as a determinative in the word mḫ r (Wb II, 132:9). Another cylindrical silo, with three specks possibly depicting grain, appears on a collective seal of three officials (P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 97, no. 393; also, vol. 1, 389, §34; and vol. 2, 967, note 1501). 104  I. Regulski, “Early Dynastic Seal Impressions from the Settlement Site At Elkab”, in: Elkab and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Luc Limme, W. Claes, H. De Meulenaere, and S. Hendrickx, eds. (Leuven: OLA 191, 2009), 33–4. 105  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 928, no. 3413. The word mḫ r is not written phonetically in this title (though see the Wb. citation above for a full Old Kingdom writing), which may render the reading slightly conjectural in this particular instance. There should be no doubt about the identification of that sign as a silo, and other words containing similar glyphs are grouped by H. Junker in Gîza III (Vienna & Leipzig, 1938), 82. 106  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 2, 878. 107  N. Strudwick, Administration, 275. 108   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 335–36; also N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom (London, 1985), 275.

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at the local level, a set-up that town mayors (or the so-called nomarchs) of the later Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period would eventually control.109 The Belgian excavations at Elkab have revealed extensive early Old Kingdom storage facilities,110 which could have been precisely the type of establishment that the bearer of the title sḥ d̠ mḫ r Nḫ b might have been assigned to audit. This type of evidence may represent a rare convergence of an occupational title with its archaeological context, and the storage complex at Elkab could be akin to the much larger institutional silos from Dynasty 17 brought to light not far away at Tell Edfu, once again within a town structure.111 The town of Mendes in the Delta has also yielded within its confines circular silos, which, according to their excavator, range in date from the very Early Dynastic to the late Old Kingdom.112 Designating a granary as that of a specific town finds a parallel of an even earlier date on a seal found in the tomb of queen Meretneith and which bears the notation of šnw.t Ἰnb113 “granary of Memphis”.114 The direct association of town and granary is reminiscent of a similar arrangement that appears in the early Sixth Dynasty tomb of Neferseshemra, a “scribe of the phyles and recruited workforce (t̠s.wt) of Heliopolis”, which once again appears to portray the town as the focus of the affiliation.115 These separate mentions of the town unit in conjunction with granaries or manpower draw attention to an important feature of resource administration in Old Kingdom Egypt, namely that of replication of centralized features, which was alluded to earlier in this study. The 109  Ankhtify seems particularly proud of his ability to have handed out grain to his district and to neighboring areas during trying times (J. Vandier, Moªalla (Cairo: BdÉ 18, 1950), 220–2; J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Liège, 1997), 67–8. 110   The records of the original excavations were recently re-examined by S. Hendrickx, M. Eyckerman, with the collaboration of C. van Winkel, “The 1955 Excavation of an Early Old Kingdom Storage Site at Elkab”, in: Elkab and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Luc Limme, W. Claes, H. De Meulenaere, and S. Hendrickx, eds. (Leuven: OLA 191, 2009), 1–30. 111  N. Moeller, “Tell Edfu: Preliminary Report on Seasons 2005–2009”, JARCE 46 (2010), 87–98. I wish to thank Dr. Moeller for making the pre-publication proof of her article available to me. 112  D.B. Redford, City of the Ram-Man: The Story of Ancient Mendes (Princeton and Oxford, 2010), 18–28, with associated figures therein. 113  In addition to Ἰnb-ḥ d̠, the abbreviated Ἰnb may also be used in reference to Memphis (see, for example, Urk. I, 139:3). 114  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 28, n° 73. 115  A.M. Roth, Egyptian Phyles in the Old Kingdom, (Chicago: SAOC 48, 1991), 74.



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impracticality of disbursing grain or provisions of any kind out of a single national supply point or one large central grain storehouse needs no elaboration. Rather, it appears that granary administration was also “modular”,116 and reproduced along its primary lines all over the country. Evidence from sites such as Elephantine would appear to validate the premise that the town was not supplied directly from a single state granary, even though its resources were regulated and overseen by the central administration.117 The bureaucratic apparatus that managed grain storage and disbursement in the form of rations represented a local branch of the national administration of granaries, and based on the Elkab evidence, appears to have been incorporated into the town structure itself. The national government (the pr-ny-sw.t) in all likelihood maintained its role as the replenisher of the granary supplies, which may have been drawn from royal agricultural foundations located in that particular district. Thus, it is plausible to conclude that in periods of centralized rule the state secured overall jurisdiction of the institution by employing within its ranks local officials who acted as representatives of the central administration. Over the course of generations, those officials developed a certain regional bureaucratic distinctiveness with local overtones (in seal making, for instance), which appears to foreshadow the forms of the gradually emerging provincial ­administration.118 This type of arrangement, in effect, sums up the general picture of the statewide management of resources: the royal administration and pharaoh maintain jurisdiction over the system, but for obvious practical reasons, commodities are not and cannot be disbursed from a central point; it remains, however, likely that regional royal foundations would be in involved in the local transfers.119 The consequences of the absence of a central governing entity or its inability to deliver commodities may be 116   B.J. Kemp, “Large Middle Kingdom Granary Buildings (and the archaeology of administration)”, ZÄS 113 (1986), 134. Kemp’s study also represents an important resource for studying granary arrangement and administration in major Middle Kingdom towns. 117  S.J. Seidlmayer, “Town and State in Early Old Kingdom: A View from Elephantine”, in: Aspects of Early Egypt, A.J. Spencer, ed. (London, 1996), 121. 118   This is precisely the point raised by I. Regulski in: Elkab and Beyond, 43–4. Similarly, Regulski refers to evidence from Elephantine that is contemporaneous to the Elkab material and which appears to corroborate these assumptions (J.-P. Pätznick, Die Siegelabrollungen und Rollsiegel der Stadt Elephantine im 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. [Oxford: BAR 1339, 2005], 179). 119  H. Papazian, Domain of Pharaoh (Hildesheim: HÄB 52, 2012), chapter 2.

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apparent in Ankhtify’s graphic description of famine and in his boastful claims of providing grain to deprived regions.120 On account of their indispensability to the daily operations of both state and non-royal establishments in the Old Kingdom, granaries also made up an integral part of a range of foundations. Thus, they themselves could not constitute the primary entity that governed others, but their operations were often subordinate to the larger establishments to which they were attached, a relationship that is made rather explicit via notations such as šnw.t nt.t m pr-šnʿ “the granary which is in the pr-šnʿ”.121 This intertwining of several departments, each with its own hierarchical bureaucracy, was present in many other spheres of the government, and inevitably contributed to the creation of ancient Egypt’s characteristic complex system of administration. Personnel and Administrators An institution as significant as a granary necessitated an elaborate administrative apparatus to oversee its operations. Although there exist generic professional designations of workers involved in activities closely linked with granaries, such as baker (rtḥ ), brewer (ʿfty), or miller (nd̠w.t—occurs only as a feminine variant),122 there does not appear to be an equivalent title for a common granary employee, which would result in the nisbe noun *šnw.ty. Nevertheless, assistantdirectors of the granary (h̠ry-tp šnw.t)123 may in fact carry out common assignments, and an actual occupational label ḫ ¡w “measurer”, along with its controllers ḫ rp ḫ ¡w, are also attested.124 It is these workers that are often depicted in granary scenes in the process of emptying and filling silos. However, there is no indication whatsoever that such representations allude to central, or national granaries, and they could very well depict those of a town. The existence of these types of work-related titles, along with the representations of activities within granaries, allow us to determine that in addition to the storage silos, a measuring or tallying court was

  J. Vandier, La famine dans l’Égypte ancienne (Cairo, 1936), 105.  H. Junker, Gîza VI (Vienna & Leipzig, 1943), 202. 122  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 490 [n° 1829]. 123   The h̠ry-tp šnw.t likely held the rank immediately below that of ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t (N. Strudwick, Administration, 256; also see 272). 124  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 792–3 [n° 2892], 685 [n° 2506], and 733 [n° 2670], ­respectively. 120 121



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part of the administrative structure. In fact, it was in that specific area that most scribal and supervisory activities took place. Thus, the title sš m ḫ ¡y.t, which has previously been translated tentatively as “scribe of gathering grain(?)”,125 in reality helps to localize the function of the scribe in the ḫ ¡y.t (from ḫ ¡ἰ, Wb. III, 223:4–7), namely the tallying court,126 where the recording activities would be performed. It was almost certainly within or in the vicinity of that court that the nḫ t-ḫ rw “tallier” or “foreman” (literally, “high-of-voice”, an issuer of commands) of the šnw.t impelled those in his charge to carry out their daily routine under the watch of the scribal company. Similarly, tallying operations depicted in tombs are visual expressions of a bureaucratic style that exerted control over the successive stages of grain administration, from the transfer of the grain (as well as beans and figs, but likely to a much lesser extent) to the silos, to the safekeeping of the commodities and other equipment, which was entrusted to the sḥ d̠ ἰry-ḫ t (n) šnw.t “inspector of custodians of granary property” and his subordinates, and finally down to the eventual disbursement of the contents in the form of rations. This may be the likely reason for the existence of a distinct layer of judicial administration that was in charge of investigating matters relating to discrepancies in the handling of grain resources,127 and might provide a partial explanation for the use of a silo determinative in titles that were seemingly judicial.128 It would appear that prior to the Fifth Dynasty the existence of a cohesive multi-tiered administration for granaries is not borne out by the evidence, due perhaps to a paucity of the sources, but more likely to the fact that granary management, being carried out by the vizier’s office, may have lacked distinguishable traits. A hierarchical

 D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 864 [n° 3162], which references H. Junker, Gîza VI, 202.  A parallel example (ḫ ¡y n šnw.t “tallying court of the granary, with ḫ ¡y determined by the house-sign—O1) from a Middle Kingdom context is supplied in G. Jéquier, Les frises d’objets des sarcophages du Moyen Empire (Cairo: MIFAO 47, 1921), 302. 127  H.G. Fischer, “Titles and Epithets of the Egyptian Old Kingdom” (Review of: D. Jones, Index), BiOr 59:1 (2002), 34. 128  As, for example, in the compound pr sḫ rw within the title smsw h¡y.t n pr sḫ rw— Königliche Museen zu Berlin and G. Roeder, Aegyptische Inschriften aus den Königlichen Museen zu Berlin (Leipzig, 1969), 59, no. 7722; see H.G. Fischer, MIO 7 (1960), 304–310, for further comments, though his suggestion for splitting the compound pr sḫ rw to isolate sḫ rw remains problematic. The pr sḫ rw with a silo determinative may have been among a number of storage compounds for cereals or other categories of grain. 125 126

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­ ureaucracy sets in only during the latter parts of the Old Kingdom, b just as the office of the vizier appears to delegate the daily oversight of that department to the care of the newly-established officials. This partial transfer of control generates a need for both an expansion and specialization of various offices, which become particularly apparent among scribal titles in general, and consequently with those connected closely with granary administration. The admittedly scarce evidence at our disposal reflects a relatively greater proliferation, vis-à-vis other types of workers, of the usual categories of scribal titles connected with granaries, namely the sš šnw.t, along with their overseers (ἰmy-r¡), inspectors (sḥ d̠), and directors (ḫ rp).129 The distribution of titles favoring scribal functions would obviously be indicative of the importance attributed to recording and accounting the movement of commodities. That scribes were in fact assigned to various tallying duties is confirmed by the caption ἰp ḫ t ἰn sš šnw.t “the counting of the goods by the scribe of the granary” from the tomb of Neferbawptah.130 Granary scribes may also hold additional posts, as in the case of Pernedju, who was also a “scribe of the crew” and “scribe of enrolment of the boat’s crew”, which in fact represented his primary duties.131 Multiple appointments that scribes and many other officials enjoyed underscore the adaptable configuration of an administrative system that allowed for maximum efficiency in the use of its human resources, as already mentioned in connection with the Balat evidence. An additional layer of the scribal bureaucracy, set in place to handle royal documents relating to granaries, consisted of the sš ʿ-ny-sw.t šnw.t and sḥ d̠ sš.w ʿ-ny-sw.t šnw.t, as well as the sš h̠r.t ʿ-ny-sw.t n.t šnw.t “scribe of the king’s writing case of the granary”.132 The single  In reality, the preoccupation with recording and archiving administrative processes remained at the heart of the Egyptian bureaucratic system, regardless of whether it involved granary management or not (L. Pantalacci, “La documentation épistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à Balat-Ayn ʿAṣīl”, BIFAO 98 [1998], 313). 130   Y. Harpur, Decoration in Egyptian Tombs of the Old Kingdom (London & New York, 1987), 539, fig. 206, right side of bottom register. The scribe in this scene is not actually equipped with his full writing kit, unlike others that are shown recording grain measures near granaries (see the sš šnw.t from the tomb of Iymery in Y. Harpur, Decoration, 537, fig. 204, upper left). 131   J. Galán, “Two Old Kingdom Officials Connected with Boats”, JEA 86 (2000), 149–50. Pernedju’s primary association appears to have been with naval administration, brought to light by his titles and by the depiction of several boats on his false door. 132  For a more recent analysis of the title of “scribe of the king’s writing case” see J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 269–71. 129



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occurrence of the title ἰry-md̠¡.t šnw.t “archivist of the granary” on a sealing fragment from Abusir133 may find equivalents in sš md̠¡.t šnw.t/ šnw.ty “scribe of documents of the granary/national granary” and ἰmyr¡ sš md̠¡.t n.t šnw.t “overseer of document scribes of the granary”. Granary titles that are of judicial or scribal nature, and those with an explicit association with the king (like the scribes of royal documents) may be the only ones to maintain a clear link with the central administration. As observed above, towns were likely to have been in charge of the daily operations of their own granaries, and titles lacking a defined secondary affiliation (e.g. ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t, which is rather nondescript, versus sḥd̠ ἰry-ḫ .t n šnw.t n.t h̠nw “inspector of the custodians of the granary of the h̠nw”, which specifies the association) may actually refer to such local entities. The overall responsibility of the state apparatus with respect to regional granary administration may lie exclusively in issuing instructions via royal communications, supplying accounting oversight, and if need be dispensing justice. The available pre-Fifth Dynasty evidence for granary supervisory officials appears to confine their functions specifically to towns, for which the sḥ d̠ mḫ r Nḫ b “inspector of the granary/storehouse of Elkab” discussed above would stand for a prime example. Conversely, other types of mentions connect the granaries more narrowly to the royal domain. Thus, the ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t/šnw.wt ny-sw.t “overseer of the king’s granary/granaries” and ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t nb.t n.t ny-sw.t “overseer of all the granaries of the king” would seem to imply the existence of a body of administrators appointed to the service of royal wealth, or alternatively to state administration as a whole. This might be further illustrated by the title ḫ rp šnw.wt [Nb?]-k¡ “controller of granaries of (king) [Neb?]-ka”,134 which represents an explicit illustration of this premise. Whether these individuals of the early Egyptian administrative system operated under the direct supervision of the office of the vizier, and not within a specific department in charge of granaries, reflects only the slight divergence of the organizational system in effect earlier 133  M. Verner. The Pyramid Complex of Khentkaus. Abusir III (Prague, 1995), 129, 13/A/85-h. Note that the author does not opt for that particular reading (but see D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 320, n° 1175). 134  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 750, n° 2734. The original register containing this notation contains what appears to be the base of a cartouche with traces of the upraised ka-arms placed above ḫ rp šnw.wt, while a serekh of king Sanakht flanks the right side (J. Garstang, with a chapter by K. Sethe, Mahâsna and Bêt Khallâf [London, 1903], pl. 19, no. 7).

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versus the later Old Kingdom. The fine-tuning of the governmental structure that resulted in the greater specificity of offices and delineation of functions135 should in no way alter either the necessity and the function of the granaries or the nature of the tasks carried out within them by the workers and their superiors. The granary shared its leading role with another major administrative component from the Old Kingdom, namely the Treasury.136 Moreover, some officials appear to have done likewise by dividing their service between those two institutions. There are “scribes of the granary and the treasury”,137 as well as “a sealer of the granary and the treasury”,138 occurrences that exemplify the versatility of officials and of the system that allowed them to hold more than one office, but they also indirectly highlight the two most important departments of Old Kingdom administration. The Treasury Definition and Origins of the Treasury The Treasury represents possibly the most central, versatile, and complex department in the Old Kingdom, yet the available data pertaining to its operations and varied functions are sparse.139 It influenced a large portion of the administration of the state and many economic entities that may appear to operate independently were in fact under the jurisdiction of the Treasury department. The enormous undertaking of revenue collection and its eventual disbursement for state expenditures are believed to have constituted the responsibility of the Treasury, though those transactions may not always carry its explicit administrative imprint. It is perhaps for such a reason that, unlike depictions of granary operations, those of the Treasury were never illustrated in tomb scenes, a possible indication also of its primary function as an entity that was expected to exercise large-scale control   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 337.  L. Pantalacci, “L’administration royale et l’administration locale au gouvernorat de Balat d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 154. 137   This title, sš šnw.t pr-ḥ d̠ also appears in connection with the h̠nw (D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 875 [n° 3204] and [n° 3205], respectively). 138  P. Kaplony, Rollsiegel, vol. IIA, 372–3, and vol. IIB, pl. 99, n° 6. 139  N. Strudwick, “Three Monuments of Old Kingdom Treasury Officials”, JEA 71 (1985), 43. 135 136



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over the entire system (perhaps even including granaries) rather than be consigned to one specific activity that can be conveniently condensed and displayed in a two-dimensional representation. The traditional designation of the Treasury as pr-ḥ d̠, literally “white house”, is attested as early as the reign of Den in the First Dynasty, along with its own administrative structure, as the title h̠ry-ʿ pr-ḥ d̠ “treasury assistant” indicates.140 By the reign of Adjib, Den’s successor, the pr-dšr “red house” appears in the record as a seemingly complementary institution to the pr-ḥ d̠ and, perhaps in apposition to the latter, is itself understood to be a type of treasury. Such a label may not be entirely unwarranted, as its association with royal vineyards or orchards (pr-dšr k¡nw-ny-sw.t)141 appears to elicit some resource management responsibilities. It appears to have operated within, and maintained an association with the state administrative system of the Early Dynastic, as supported by the notation pr-dšr pr-ny-sw.t.142 Due to its ephemeral nature however, only a limited number of titles refer to it. These include ʿ¡ pr-dšr ḥ w.t-S¡-ḥ ¡-k¡143 and ḫ rp pr-dšr ḥ w.t-P-Ḥ rmsn,144 which appear to establish a more specific association between the pr-dšr and foundations with distinct names, which Helck considers to be palaces.145 Yet another title, wr ἰd.t pr-dšr “chief of censing (in) the pr-dšr”, reveals a more ritualistic connotation for it,146 while other uncommon ones such as ḫ rp ḥ r-ἰb pr-d̠sr “controller of the inner part of the pr-dšr” may indirectly allude to the partition of the pr-dšr into subsections, each with its own personnel. Notwithstanding this apparent variety in the evidence pertaining to the pr-dšr, the weight of the available mentions from the earliest periods onward favors a predominance of the pr-ḥ d̠. The comparison between the two should not result in imposing at any cost a correlation between pr-ḥ d̠ and Upper Egypt on the one hand, and pr-dšr and Lower Egypt on the other. The persistent contrasting of white and red, and Upper and Lower Egypt, becomes too pervasive and should be

 P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 34, n° 106.  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 59, n° 213. An link between wine (storage) and the Treasury has also been proposed (N. Strudwick, Administration, 295). 142  W.M.F. Petrie, The Royal Tombs of the First Dynasty, vol. 2 (London, 1901), pl. 24, n° 206; P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 84, n° 318. 143  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 349–50 [n° 1302]. 144  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 714 [n° 2605]. 145  W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 59. 146  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 383 [n° 1419]. 140 141

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used in moderation when applied to concrete administrative operations, even though there may have been an original intent to ascribe such a notion to the divisions of the Treasury in order to segregate revenue drawn from each half of Egypt.147 Occurrences of the pr-dšr disappear almost entirely by the end of the Third Dynasty in favor of pr-ḥ d̠ and its dual pr.wy-ḥ d̠, the latter coming to represent the state Treasury in subsequent periods of Egyptian history. The complexity inherent in properly demarcating the divergence in meaning of the singular and dual designations of the granary similarly affect the appellations of the Treasury, and the proposals set forth in that respect earlier would equally apply here as well. The Treasury exhibits a close relationship with the royal sphere, as some instances of the pr-ḥ d̠ indicate its specific affiliation with the h̠nw,148 for instance, or with a string of individual kings, as in the case of pr-ḥ d̠ n Snfrw/Ḫ wfw/D̠ d=f-Rʿ. The latter sequence might be doubtful, given the uncertain arrangement of the blocks whence this information derives,149 but it would not be too far-fetched of a premise, given that granaries of royalty are attested, as mentioned above with those of Nebka. Among its primary duties the Treasury is said to supply funerary equipment, such as fine linen,150 incense, and sft̠-oil, as detailed for the burial needs of a royal hound, listed on a short text inscribed on that particular occasion (CGC 67573).151 The items are identical to the ones that the Treasury contributed to Kaïemsenou (Urk. I, 175:11), who was also bestowed with grain and other foodstuff from the pr-ʿq.t, the department of provisions or confections (Urk. I, 175:11–12).152 Similarly, various types of unguents and perfumes were also likely to have been kept in the Treasury for funerary purposes,

147  E.V. MacArthur, “The Pots and People of Tarkhan”, Cahiers Caribéens d’Égyptologie, nos. 13–14 (2010), 88, table 3. 148  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 123–4 [n° 492], and 134 [n° 525] (pr.wy-ḥ d̠). 149  N. Strudwick, Administration, 276, 289, and 292. 150  N. Strudwick, Administration, 294 and note 3. 151  G. Reisner, “The Dog which was Honored by the King of Upper and Lower Egypt”, BMFA 34, no. 206 (1936), 96–99; also discussed by H.G. Fischer, ZÄS 93 (1966), 57–60. 152   The pr-ʿq.t and other secondary administrative units may have been managed under the umbrella of the Treasury, though no explicit link between them is evident. It is, nonetheless, of note that scribes were assigned to record the activities carried out in those sub-departments (D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 848, n° 3097).



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or to be offered on the occasion of festivals.153 Certain tomb scenes illustrate the donation of ḫ tm.t154 or “sealed objects” to the deceased, a likely case of indirect reference to the contents of treasuries,155 which in some of these cases might perhaps allude to private ones. However, it remains quite likely that such donations originated from the state, as its Treasury is often listed as the source of the income for officials. Thus, the twin granaries, the twin treasuries, the twin bureaus of the h̠kr-ny-sw.t, and every department of the h̠nw, among others, contribute offerings of the pr.t-ḫ rw type to the priest Sabu (Urk. I, 177:14–16). It is noteworthy that Sabu is the recipient of largesse not from individual granaries and treasuries, but from the national institutions themselves (note the dual forms, as well as the mention of the h̠nw), a not-so-insignificant fact in the greater context of the role and importance of state entities in providing for officials and other state employees with wages and donation guarantees. Officials and Functionaries Single treasuries and the grand national Treasury, conveyed by the dual term pr.wy-ḥ d̠, incorporated a bureaucratic organization that was conventional, in that it grouped the expected categories of officials, while being highly similar to that of the granaries. In fact, it would not be too far fetched to propose that a number of officials may have held similar occupations in both of these major state departments. As a leading example, the official Pehernefer of the early Fourth Dynasty listed several supervisory titles that extended across both branches.156 Among his more elevated offices were those of ἰmy-r¡ pr-ḥ d̠ “­overseer of the Treasury”, ḥ ry-sd̠¡w.t pr-ḥ d̠ “seal-bearer of the Treasury”, and ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t nb.t n.t ny-sw.t “overseer of all the granaries of the king”.

153   The possible contents of a Treasury are summarized in W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 64. 154  For a discussion of the convergent readings of ḫ tm and sd̠¡w.t consult H.G. Fischer, Egyptian Studies III: Varia Nova (New York, 1996), 50–52. 155  W.K. Simpson, The Mastaba of Kawab, Khafkhufu I and II (Boston, 1978), fig. 30. This particular scene depicts the offering of festival oils in sealed vessels to the tomb owner (also see H.G. Fischer, Varia Nova, 50). Regarding sealed materials depicted in Old Kingdom tomb scenes, see P. Vernus, in: Grund und Boden, 257–8, and notes 38–41 and 48. 156  N. Strudwick, Administration, 85. Pehernefer also occupied some other lowerranking functions in the Treasury, such as h̠ry-ʿ.t pr-ḥ d̠ and sḥ d̠ h̠ry-ʿ.t pr-ḥ d̠.

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Titles of seemingly lower rank, such as h̠ry-ʿ pr-ḥ d̠ “Treasury assistant” appear already in the First Dynasty.157 Beginning in the Fourth Dynasty158 the title ἰmy-r¡ pr-ḥ d̠ designated overseers of single ­treasuries159 until it disappeared in the Sixth Dynasty along with the office of ἰmy-r¡ šnw.t connected with granary units. Although attested in the Fourth Dynasty as well, the overseer the national Treasury, the ἰmy-r¡ pr.wy-ḥ d̠, became firmly established by the middle of the Fifth, but only as a vizier’s prerogative, who became the near-exclusive holder of the ἰmy-r¡ pr.wy-ḥ d̠ office, with extremely rare promotions to that position granted to other high officials, some of whom operated in the provinces as part of the bureaucratic élite operating as commissioners of the state.160 The ἰmy-r¡ pr.wy-ḥ d̠ represented the only direct Treasury title carried by viziers, whose oversight responsibilities thus extended across the entire system; likewise for their granary affiliation of course, which was limited to the function of ἰmy-r¡ šnw.ty.161 The ἰmy-r¡ ἰs.wy h̠kr-ny-sw.t, meanwhile, represented an indirect association that viziers maintained with the Treasury. In terms of other functionaries, the exceptionally rare ḫ rp pr-ḥ d̠,162 is amply supplemented by ἰmy-ḫ t pr-ḥ d̠, which outranks the sḥ d̠ pr-ḥ d̠, both of which remain subordinate to the ἰmy-r¡ pr-ḥ d̠.163 As mentioned above, responsibilities in both the granary and the Treasury by the same individuals appear to have been common. Furthermore, joint recording operations were also undertaken at times, as a sš sd̠¡w.t pr-ḥ d̠ “seal scribe of the treasury”164 sits opposite an individual involved in reckoning the goods of the granary, who is obviously a scribe, though he is not labeled as such (he is shown writing on a board with a reed pen, with another one resting behind his ear).165  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 778 [n° 2836].  N. Strudwick, Administration, 276, who corrects the erroneous attribution of that title to the Third Dynasty found in W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 61 and note 26. 159  W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 58–61. 160  N. Strudwick, Administration, 290–2. 161  N. Strudwick, Administration, 264–5 and 290–1. 162  H.G. Fischer, “A Scribe of the Army in a Saqqara Mastaba of the Early Fifth Dynasty”, JNES 18 (1959), 267, no. 21. 163  N. Strudwick, Administration, 296–7. 164  See N. Strudwick, Administration, 293, for the correct reading; D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 879, n° 3220 proposes “sš d̠¡t.s (?) pr-ḥ d̠”. Seal scribes may also be akin to seal designers and cutters, for which see R.S. Merrillees, “Representations of a Seal Cutter in Old Kingdom Tomb Reliefs from Saqqara”, in Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, E. Czerny et al., eds. (Leuven: OLA 149:1, 2006), 217–24. 165   K.R. Lepsius, Denkmäler, II, pl. 56. 157 158



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Not surprisingly, scribal functions represent the largest component of the Treasury bureaucracy,166 but it is titles such as sḥ d̠ sš.w ʿ-ny-sw.t “inspector of scribes of royal documents” that are of value, as they are also found in connection with the administration of granaries, a fact that further strengthens the principle of firm royal oversight upon the commodity-based system of Egypt and thus the management of revenue. In fact, in the Fifth Dynasty, three separate inspectors of scribes of royal documents held appointments in all principal resource administration departments, namely the granary, Treasury and its possible subsidiary, the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b.167 The vizier, of course, handled most matters relating to the transmission of commands from pharaoh, which would have been executed through those scribes. Nevertheless, a supplemental, perhaps parallel layer of control appears to have been in place, one that was exercised by the ḫ tmw-bἰty “royal sealer” or “treasurer”. Individuals bearing the title of ḫ tmw-ny-sw.t are also attested,168 but these might actually refer to officials associated with privy matters of pharaoh and not the Treasury itself.169 The ḫ tmw-bἰty may have been leading Treasury officials,170 but by virtue of their designation, could also be considered as personal representatives of the king in matters of Treasury administration,171 which once more underscores that the proper functioning of that branch represented an imperative of government and may have required closer regulation than other departments. The reality of the pivotal nature of the Treasury is undermined by the lack of abundant documentation regarding its administration. It organized the collection of revenue either directly or through subsidiaries, was in charge of storing both raw materials as well as processed ones, such as linen, oil, and comestibles, and was responsible for the massive obligation of insuring the payment of wages and entitlements to state employees on a regular basis. Unlike the handful of direct glimpses of local granary administration at our disposal, it remains difficult to

 N. Strudwick, Administration, 298.   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 257–8. 168  H. Junker, Gîza IV, 5, title no. 7. 169   The occurrence of the title ḥ ry-sšt¡ ḫ tm.t-ny-sw.t “privy to the secrets of royal sealed material” (H. Junker, Gîza IV, 5, title no. 6) in conjunction with ḫ tmw-ny-sw.t may actually reveal the close link between the two functions. 170   J. Kahl, in Fs. Dreyer, 325–30. 171   The ḫ tmw-bἰty may also have been in charge of managing the king’s personal treasuries (M. Bárta, ArOr 67 [1999], 13). 166 167

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identify a parallel provincial Treasury administration. It stands to reason that some form of control was exercised at the local level, given that provincial overseers of the state Treasury are present in the available record. And, as stated earlier, most of the operations of the national Treasury lacked its direct administrative signature, because they may have been carried out by its affiliates, such as the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b. The Treasury’s Commodity Management Departments Among the earliest mentions of a governmental sub-department is one that dealt with oil or wine pressing and appears to have been part of the Treasury.172 The seal bearing this information dates to the reign of Den and belongs to a ḫ tmw-bἰty, likely the highest Treasury official at that time. These references divulge an important fact about the Treasury, namely that it served not only as a collector of raw commodities, but was also involved in their processing, subsequent storage, and ultimate disbursement. Although the frame of the various commodity management subdepartments that operated within the Treasury may appear similar, the function of each necessarily differed. Even so, the nuances between the operations of two such major divisions tasked with food provisioning, the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b173 and ἰs-d̠f¡,174 are very often difficult to differentiate. Despite the fact that most such entities constituted subsidiaries of the Treasury, the direct affiliation of their employees and supervisory staff remained with the smaller unit; individual sub-sections may have been further partitioned, with a resulting refinement of their particular assignments. Such an arrangement, in turn, compounds the ­complexity

  T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 130. Kaplony, however, would favor wine pressing in this context, without dismissing oil pressing altogether (P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 2, 777–8; also vol. 3, fig. 240). 173   This refers to the administrative entity in charge of the redistribution of offerings in the narrowest sense, but whose responsibilities for supplying various cults may have been quite intricate, with multiple divisions and levels of bureaucracy (J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 340; M. Baud, Famille royale, 289; also worth consulting is an earlier article by Gardiner, “The Mansion of Life and the Master of the King’s Largess”, JEA 24 [1938], 83–91); see some titles in D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom (Oxford, 2000) vol. 1, 65 [n° 304], 122 [n° 488]. 174   The range of meanings applied to the word ἰs and ἰs.t (Wb. I, 126:19–127:8; also J. Kahl, Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch, fasc. 1 [Wiesbaden, 2002], 56–7) from “tomb” to “palace” to “chamber” suggests an enclosed space (betrayed by the overwhelming use of the house-sign [O1] as a determinative), which, when compounded with the word d̠f¡ “provision”, should designate a provisioning storage center. 172



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of the operations in a given institution, because the personnel of the sub-department175 would be required to coordinate with the bureaucratic mechanism of the larger entity, though very often assignments in multiple areas might be handled by the same employees. In effect, the vast national administrative structure, which interconnected the operations of major state departments at various levels, might have served as a paradigm for the smaller units. Pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b This department was already in existence during the reign of Khasekhemwy in the Second Dynasty.176 The central component in its multipart designation is wd̠b “to revert”, which implies a function connected to donation management, most notably when referring to wd̠b-rd, the practice of redistributed offerings.177 In fact, the redirection of resources may have been the principal channel for payments of state wages to those on government payroll rosters throughout the country, a function that has prompted a comparison between the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b “department of the chief redistribution officer” and a ministry of finance.178 Some of the information gleaned from titles reveals the multifaceted nature of this department. The ubiquitous duality of administrative entities is reflected in a title connected with the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b, namely ἰmy-r¡ ἰs.wy n(.w) pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b “overseer of the twin-bureaus of the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b”,179 which highlights the partitions inherent in this department and many others in the overall administrative system. The pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b in this instance itself encloses bureaus that would carry

  The ἰs d̠f¡, for instance, maintained its own scribes (D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 837 [n° 3054]). 176  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, fig. 313. 177  H. Papazian, “The Temple of Ptah and Economic Contacts between Memphite Cult Centers in the Fifth Dynasty.” In 8. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung: Interconnections between Temples, M. Dolińska and H. Beinlich, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2010), 139–144. The evidence suggests that the donor-recipient group involved in the restricted wd̠brd-type of reversionary offerings had to situated in close proximity to one another, which leads to the conclusion that this required local control over the process, despite the fact that the recipients of the payments were surely on a royal payroll. Therein lies a prime example of a system operating on a local level but according to national parameters. 178  P. Andrássy, “Zur Struktur der Verwaltung des Alten Reiches”, ZÄS 118 (1991), 9. 179  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 65 [n° 304]. 175

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out more specific commissions, a premise that is evident in the rather lengthy title of ἰmy-r¡ sš pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b m pr.wy-ḥ ry-wd̠b rḫ y.t180 “overseer of scribes of the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b in the twin- pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b departments of the rḫ y.t”. The division called pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b rḫ y.t represents a subsidiary with an operational focus connected with the rḫ y.t and employs its own scribal contingent. The principal officials (the ḥ ry.w-wd̠b) affiliated with the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b may have carried out responsibilities that extended beyond those of functionaries of a clearing house in charge of coordinating the distribution of payments. These individuals are very often connected in a non-exclusive fashion with the ḥ wt-ʿnḫ ,181 which appears to have been a palace division in charge of royal catering services. But they were attached to the ḥ w.t-ʿ¡.t as well,182 and a likely association with the s¡b has also been proposed, which may bestow a judicial character upon their functions.183 As with all administrative units that dealt with revenue on the one hand and payouts on the other, the pr-ḥ rywd̠b employed a separate scribal unit with the expected hierarchy of officials, that is to say overseers (ἰmy-r¡), inspectors (sḥ d̠), and undersupervisors (ἰmy-ḫ .t).184 Furthermore to the preceding, controllers (ḫ rp), and overseers of controllers of scribes of the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b were part of the upper supervisory personnel.185 It has been suggested that the ḥ ry.w-wd̠b would also be involved in the recruitment of laborers assigned to fieldwork in various provincial districts,186 a reasonable assumption given some scribes affiliated with the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b also list “scribe of the fields” of a given district among their functions.187 The cooperation between these two jurisdictions would allow the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b to properly assess yield surplus from the fields for the purposes of determining wage rates. Just like granary

180  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 213 [n° 791]. Standard scribal titles of sš pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b are also attested, of course (D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 850 [n° 3108]). 181   J.C. Moreno García, Administration, 140. 182  For the significance of the ḥ w.t-ʿ¡.t see J.C. Moreno García, “L’organisation sociale de l’agriculture dans l’Égypte pharaonique pendant l’Ancien Empire”, JESHO 44 (2001), 418–424. 183  M. Baud, Famille royale, 285–6. 184  For a comprehensive list of titles containing ḥ ry-wd̠b, see J.C. Moreno García, Administration, 146–51; also see M. Baud, Famille royale, 285, under “b” for the various scribal offices specifically. 185  D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 190–1, n° 716. 186   J.C. Moreno García, Administration, 143. 187  W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 70; M. Baud, Famille royale, 286.



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management appears at times to be connected to individual towns or districts, so too the presence of scribal supervisors, who split their service between land management and the activities of the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b, is quite revealing about the local functioning of the state administration. This represents yet another instance where the notion of a top-down disbursement of wages or commodities from a single national source becomes inapplicable, reinforcing the argument that such activities necessarily had to take place at a local level. However, the multiplication in communities across Egypt of a nearly-identical process of land assessment, yield management, revenue tabulation, and ultimately wage distribution is what remains as characteristic of the centralized system, which provided the template of operations as well as the corps of trained personnel to coordinate the undertaking, thus insuring the uniformity of the practice across the land. Such a reality highlights the already mentioned fact that the rigorous control of departments involved in revenue collection and disbursement would have been a priority for the state, as the close supervision exercised over them by the upper echelons of the royal scribal division would tend to indicate. Inspectors of scribes of royal documents were not only connected with the pr-ḥ ry-wd̠b specifically, but also with the Treasury as a whole, as well as granaries.188 In his examination of administrative sealings from Fourth Dynasty Giza, Nolan has discussed the role of the holders of the office of “scribe of royal documents”,189 who were the executors of royal policy and among the most prominent and highest officials in the administration.190 According to a diagram drawn up by Andrássy in connection with tax revenue based on evidence from the Coptite decrees, the overseer of scribes of royal documents directed both the ḥ ry-wd̠b officers and the overseers of field scribes.191 The scribal administration of royal documents, in association with the office of the vizier, would thus appear to have established the central government’s requirements with respect to land income, but also the division and the disbursement of that yield to its agents and employees throughout the various districts of Egypt, all of which were duly recorded and verified by scribes of  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 956–7 [n° 3529] and [n° 3531], respectively.   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, 256–271, 361 (table 4.1), and passim. 190   J.S. Nolan, Sealings, xii. 191  P. Andrássy, “Zum Boden-Eigentum und zur Acker-Verwaltung im Alten Reich”, in: Grund und Boden in Altägypten, S. Allam, ed., (Tübingen, 1994), 346. 188 189

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­ ifferent ranks, whose services were shared by several entities involved d in the process.192 Ἰs-d̠f¡ The ἰs-d̠f¡ (also s.t-d̠f¡ beginning in the Old Kingdom) should be counted among those entities that although at first would appear to have operated independently, may actually have been subsidiary to the Treasury.193 A direct association between them is explicit in the notation ἰs-d̠f¡ pr-ḥ d̠ “provisioning depot of the treasury” from a Second Dynasty seal impression,194 an arrangement that is reinforced by ἰs-d̠f¡ pr-dšr “provisioning depot of the (“red”) Treasury” dating to the reign of Khasekhemwy from the same dynasty.195 Since there exist a number of Egyptian administrative terms that designate a storehouse or depot, such as wd̠¡, commonly employed in the title ḥ ry-wd̠¡ “custodian of the magazine” of a specific foundation,196 the ἰs-d̠f¡ should not be defined loosely as a generic depot within the Treasury department. Rather, it denoted an enclosed space or a collection of rooms that stored processed or prepared foodstuff allocated for specific requirements. An additional group of evidence appears to link the ἰs-d̠f¡ to the pr-ny-sw.t as the “provisioning depot of the state administration”,197 with its affiliated officials, such as ἰmy-r¡ s.t-d̠f¡ pr-ny-sw.t;198 or even to the personal provisioning of the king, as elicited from titles such as h̠ry-tp ἰs-d̠f¡ ny-sw.t “assistant of the king’s provisioning depot” from the reign of Sekhemib.199 To these may be added instances that confirm the association with royalty, such as ἰs-d̠f¡ Ḫ ʿ-sḫ m.wy “provisioning depot of Khasekhemwy”, ἰs-d̠f¡ Nt̠ry-h̠ .t “provisioning depot of Netjerykhet”,200 or sš ἰs-d̠f¡ Sḫ m-ἰb “scribe of the provisioning depot of 192   This is reminiscent of the arrangement at Balat mentioned above, whereby a single scribe appears to be in charge of recording the activities of various workshops. 193  W. Helck, Beamtentiteln, 59; T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 129. 194  G. Dreyer et al., “Umm el-Qaab: Nachuntersuchungen im Frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof 11./12. Vorbericht”, MDAIK 56 (2000), 127, fig. 27b. 195  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 82, n° 309. 196  See the range of compound titles with ḥ ry-wd̠¡ and foundation names in D. Jones, Index, vol. 1, 601–2, n° 2203–9. 197  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 2, 848, note 957; vol. 3, pl. 59, n° 214, and pl. 149, n° 862. A B 198  P. Kaplony, Rollsiegel, vol. II , 53, and vol. II , pl. 19, n° 18. 199  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 72, n° 267. 200  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 83, n° 311–2 (for Khasekhemwy), and pl. 84, n° 316–7 and pl. 131, n° 800 (for Netjerykhet).



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Sekhemib”.201 More telling perhaps in the context of the Treasury are officials bearing the title of ḫ tmw d̠f¡ bἰty “sealer of royal provisions”. This could provide further corroboration to the suggestion that although references to the king’s provisions and their storage may not carry an explicit affiliation with the Treasury, they may in fact be prepared, sealed, and maintained there, to be supplied at pre-set intervals to pharaoh, or the royal administration. By extension, given that the ἰs-d̠f¡ was used to store processed provisions, it may possibly also have a connection with the provisioning of the so-called “royal repast”, the ʿbw r¡ ny-sw.t, which is believed to have been a formal offering ceremony in honor of a god or a deceased king.202 In reality, the role of officials involved with that activity appears to have been linked to the redistributive process of food and commodities, rather than to ritual in the strictest sense.203 Thus, the title of ḥ ry-sd̠¡w.t mḫ r ʿbw r¡ “seal-bearer of the granary/silo of the (royal) repast”204 is a further indication of the assignment of commodity storage facilities along with an associated administrative corps to specific functions of redistribution. For example, a number of high officials connected with the ἰs-d̠f¡ were also involved in the exercise of wd̠b.205 The Fifth Dynasty official Seshemnefer I buried at Giza (G 4940) served as an ἰmy-r¡ s.ty-d̠f¡206 “overseer of the twin provisioning depots”, which is listed in the final position in a long string of titles, immediately ­following that of ḥ ry-wd̠b m ḥ w.t-ʿnḫ “chief redistribution officer in the ḥ w.t-ʿnḫ ”. A crucial characteristic of possible Treasury subsidiaries like the ἰs-d̠f¡ is that they shared features with related establishments, specifically in the realm of redistribution of commodities. These are important observations which emphasize the interconnected nature of resource management throughout its various stages from the estimation of land yields and the collections of dues to the storage and secondary processing of commodities for eventual allocation for state expenditure, such as employee wages and other entitlements. Not only are entities such 201  P. Kaplony, Inschriften, vol. 3, pl. 72, n° 268. For other references to sš-d̠f¡ see D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 837 [n° 3054]. 202  P.F. Dorman, “A Note on the Royal Repast”, in: Hommages à Jean Leclant, C. Berger, G. Clerc, and N. Grimal, eds. (Cairo: BdÉ 106:1, 1994), 457. 203  P.F. Dorman, BdÉ 106:1, 466. 204  D. Jones, Index, vol. 2, 787–8 [n° 2872]. 205  H.G. Fischer, JNES 18 (1959), 267. 206   K.R. Lepsius, Denkmäler, II, pl. 27.

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as the ἰs-d̠f¡ an integral part of larger establishments (most probably the Treasury), but like most parts of the administrative structure their functionaries collaborated closely with those layers of the bureaucracy that were involved in similar activities. In fact, different subdivisions of major state departments may have shared the same personnel. Conclusions The proper management of resources constitutes a fundamental concern for any advanced society, and its study must be conducted according to criteria that analyze it in a concrete manner, without resorting exclusively to a theoretical or hypothetical approach. While the sum of the constituents of the ancient Egyptian state has rightly been characterized as a complex society—itself the epitome of an intellectual construct—the study of the practical aspects of governance must avoid that tendency. The practice of centralization of resources, as it applied to ancient Egypt, did not translate into the grouping and subsequent distribution of commodities outward from a single point. Rather, it was the uniformity inherent in the multiplication of the central government’s methods and administrative structure in various regions of the country that typified the system. This type of arrangement also insured that the payment of wages to state employees across Egypt (a major preoccupation of the government), as well as the financing of various royal work projects, would be conducted in a standardized fashion. This modus operandi remained in effect despite the gradual but inevitable emergence over the course of the Old Kingdom of distinctively local bureaucratic forms in the provincial setting. Any neglect or breakdown of some of these administrative principles might carry dire social consequences, which at times might become inevitable due to natural causes. Pharaoh and his household provided both the impetus and the structural paradigm for the Old Kingdom central administration. It is extremely plausible that the early royal residence (however that term needs to be defined) served as a template for the creation of various state departments, which would always encapsulate some reference to pharaoh, whether tangible or only in essence, despite the evolution of administrative forms over the course of the Early Dynastic and the Old Kingdom. Thus, understanding the nature and role of royal residences



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represents a major advantage in the analysis of resource management during those periods. For instance, the pr-ny-sw.t, an entity that is attested since the earliest days of the unified Egyptian state, came to represent the wider national administrative system; in short, it was the state government. It provided royal bureaucratic representation and oversight in areas outside of Memphis, insuring that proper nontangible contributions, such as corvée labor, were assessed properly. It also appears to have maintained a physical presence across Egypt through its agencies or annexes (the gs-pr). The Fifth Dynasty witnessed a marked specialization in bureaucratic titles and the inception of the h̠nw, yet another pharaonic residence and administrative entity that assumed a role at the forefront of the commodity and wealth management spheres, and maintained a close connection with (and perhaps even control of) most major administrative components of the state. The central administration was the amalgamation of two parallel organizational systems, a duality that was likely to have been in existence since the inception of the state, but appears more pronounced in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties. The management of the wealth and resources of pharaoh on the one hand and those of the government at large on the other represented the constituents of this complex duality, which appears to have been concentrated at the h̠nw and the pr-ny-sw.t, respectively. The control and processing of resources was entrusted to two major state departments, namely the Granary and the Treasury, both of which operated under the general auspices of the state, and in the latter parts of the Old Kingdom, mainly the h̠nw. The collection of revenue, its processing, and eventual disbursement in the form of rations or wages was conducted by these national departments and their subsidiaries, which carried out more specialized functions. The operations and personnel of several of these administrative entities may have been closely intertwined, with some officials often holding multiple appointments or dividing their service obligations between two departments. This develops into an important feature of the central administration of resources and of Egyptian bureaucracy in general and reaffirms the notion of the flexibility exhibited by the system as a whole. Although there remains much more to be untangled with respect to the intricacies of the organization of resources in the Old Kingdom than we might admit, the centralized uniformity of administration, its innovative use of human resources, and complexity developed into trademarks of a system that evolved and endured for several millennia.

The territorial administration of the kingdom in the 3rd millennium Juan Carlos Moreno García The territorial organization of Egypt in the 3rd millennium still defies historical interpretations. The paucity of the sources, their uneven chronological and geographical distribution, and the apparently fluid borders of some of the provinces, especially in the Delta, are among the more minor obstacles. Perhaps more important is the influence of our own biased ideas abut what provincial administration should look like in a pre-modern bureaucratic state like ancient Egypt. Thus, concepts like ‘nomarch’, ‘province/nome’, ‘bureaucracy’, and even ‘administration’, usually convey a full array of preconceived meanings, latent characteristics, and practices taken for granted which risk to completely overshadow our comprehension of the provincial administration and the mechanisms of power actually operative within it. Broadly speaking, the underlying idea of well delimited provinces, governed by appointed officials with clearly defined functions (the nomarchs or governors), supported by an extensive bureaucracy and by a network of offices and departments, each of them responsible for well defined activities, is a prevalent one in Egyptology and contributes to perpetuating the myth of the efficient, all-encompassing bureaucratic/despotic pharaonic state in the 3rd millennium B.C.1 In fact several principles were operative at the same type, thus blurring the limits between offices and administrative sectors. The 1   Ch. J. Eyre, “Weni’s Career and Old Kingdom Historiography,” in The Unbroken Reed: Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honour of A.F. Shore, ed. Ch. J. Eyre, A. Leahy, and L.M. Leahy, (London, 1994), 108–24; Eyre, “Pouvoir central et pouvoirs locaux: Problèmes historiographiques et méthodologiques,” in Égypte pharaonique: Déconcentration, cosmopolitisme, ed. B. Menu (Méditerranées 24; Paris, 2000), 15–39; Eyre, “On the Inefficiency of Bureaucracy,” in Egyptian Archives (Quaderni di ACME 111), ed. P. Piacentini and Ch. Orsenigo (Milan, 2009), 15–30; D.M. Doxey, “The Nomarch as Ruler: Provincial Necropoleis of the Old and Middle Kingdom,” in Egyptian Royal Residences (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 4/1), ed. R. Gundlach and J.H. Taylor (Wiesbaden, 2009), 1–11; J.C. Moreno García, “Introduction. Élites et États tributaires. Le cas de l’Égypte pharaonique,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 11–50.

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royal will was one of them, to the point that an efficient official, having proved his organizational skills, could be entrusted with different missions, not necessarily related and ensuing from different administrative departments and spheres of activity. In other cases, provincial potentates seem to have acted as mediators between the king and the local society, carrying out specific tasks for the crown irrespective of their holding specific administrative titles. Local differences are also observable, due to deeply rooted traditions, to the dominant balance of power at a given moment, to royal favor, to the rise or decline of powerful local families, or to moving networks of trade and, consequently, wealth. Thus, current ideas, such as thinking of provincial authorities like modern governors, or considering administrative offices contemporary departments, can prove to be misleading and should thus be treated with caution in order to avoid hasty analogies. The combination of all these factors may explain the amazing succession of periods in which local administrators were quite visible in the administrative and monumental record and times when they nearly disappear from the sources. In fact, as in most tributary states, a combination of personal relations, royal prerogative, and changing administrative structures may explain the variability observed. A final point concerns one intriguing aspect of the pharaonic state during the 3rd millennium. Egypt apparently knew no major territorial rupture during this entire period, and even internal turmoil seems to have been quite rare, perhaps the end of the Second Dynasty being the only exception. This means that the alliance between the king and the most prominent families of the kingdom, both at the capital and in the provinces, proved to be a lasting one, based on shared interest and ensuring the apparent stability of the kingdom for many centuries. Such a situation becomes all the more extraordinary when compared, for instance, with the ephemeral ‘imperial’ powers that arose in Mesopotamia at roughly the end of the same period (Akkad Empire, Ur III state). Even the Sixth Dynasty (2345–2181 B.C.), too often characterized as a long period of decadence is just that, a period too long reduced to a supposed crisis whose manifestations are, furthermore, quite difficult to perceive. In this respect, neither the decrease in the dimensions of the royal pyramids nor the rise of many provincial centers of power seem to be valid markers of troubles (both phenomena were also perceptible in the 5th dynasty) for an otherwise active state, whether in internal or in foreign politics. In fact, the pharaohs proved to be remarkably successful at integrating the elites of the kingdom



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within the structure of the state, at spreading their authority all over the territory and, apparently, at keeping alternative foci of (counter) power from successfully consolidating themselves to the point of being able to seriously defy the rule of the kings. No traces of a hereditary landed nobility, well rooted in the countryside, can be detected, even where local inscriptions abound. Consequently, one can infer that the state managed to provide the bulk of the income of the high elite, to tie their members to the royal palace, and to avoid the emergence of some kind of feudal order able to threaten its prominent position. Such an achievement is quite remarkable and without parallel in Near Eastern history, and its roots may be found in the flexibility of the royal power towards the provincial world; this may help explain the apparent proliferation of different solutions during the Old Kingdom, ranging from the almost complete invisibility of provincial potentates (4th Dynasty) to the conspicuous exhibition of their wealth (6th Dynasty) or the rise of only a handful of selected nuclei of local power (3rd and 5th Dynasties), from the nomination of ‘great chiefs of a nome’ only in Southern-Middle Egypt to the appointment of supra-provincial authorities for entire regions (like the jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’) or only for specific nomes (as in the case of the nomarchs of Deir el-Gebrawi ruling the Thinite nome). Such diverse solutions are especially evident when comparing Upper and Lower Egypt during the 6th dynasty, as the latter lacked any ‘great chief of the nome’ or any consistent appointment of an ‘overseer of Lower Egypt’.2 The Third Dynasty: Local Powers and Central Control The ink inscriptions written on several hundred vessels found in the galleries of the mortuary complex of Pharaoh Djeser, dating from the Third Dynasty, provide fundamental information about the territorial organization of the kingdom.3 The vessels were partly produced

2   Cf. the cases of K¡-gm.n.j (PM III2 521–525), a jmj-r Šmʿw (T¡-)Mḥ w ‘overseeer of Upper and Lower Egypt’ who served under the last reigns of the 5th dynasty and the beginning of the 6th dynasty, during the reign of Teti, and of Jšt̠j-T̠t̠j (PM III2 609), a jmj-r zp¡wt T¡-Mḥ w ‘overseer of the provinces of Lower Egypt’ at the end of the Old Kingdom. 3   P. Lacau and J.-Ph. Lauer, La pyramide à degrés. Vol. IV: Inscriptions gravées sur les vases (Cairo, 1959); Lacau and Lauer, La pyramide à degrés. Vol. V: Inscriptions à l’encre sur les vases (Cairo, 1965).

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in the royal workshops during the reign of Djeser himself, but many of them came from the tombs of his ancestors.4 The texts mention the officials, institutions, and regions which delivered precious products to the mortuary royal complex, and they provide an accurate glimpse into provincial management and into the inner workings of the institutions which ensured the control of the king over the countryside. From these documents we learn that some provinces had local leaders at their head, called sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’ or ḥ q¡ ‘governor’, whose existence and power are confirmed by the discovery of huge contemporary tombs in Abydos, Thebes, and Elkab using the same techniques employed in the monuments of the capital, Memphis.5 The inscriptions also refer to several royal institutions, better known from later inscriptions, which served as the centers of royal power and institutional agriculture in the rural countryside. They were the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t ‘great ḥ wt’ and the ḥ wt, a kind of royal farm, warehouse, processing and administrative center, and defensive building—in fact, the ḥ wthieroglyph represents a tower.6 The ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and the ḥ wt probably differed only in scale, the former being the center of bigger agricultural units than the latter. Later sources show that the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t were founded

4  See also I. Regulski, “Second Dynasty Ink Inscriptions from Saqqara Paralleled in the Abydos Material from the Royal Museums of Art and History (RMAH) in Brussels,” in Egypt at Its Origins: Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams (OLA, 138), ed. S. Hendrickx, R.F. Friedman, K.M. Ciałowicz, and M. Chlodnicki (Leuven, 2004), 949–70. 5   J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: Economie, administration et organisation territoriale (Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Hautes Etudes— Sciences Historiques et Philologiques, 337; Paris, 1999), 233–34; L. Limme, “Report on the Archaeological Work at Elkab: 1999 Season,” ASAE 75 (1999–2000): 107–11, pl. I–II; Limme, “L’Elkab de l’Ancien Empire,” BSFE 149 (2000): 14–31; Limme, “Elkab, 1937–2007: Seventy years of Belgian Archaeological Research,” BMSAES 9 (2008): 23–24; G. Vörös, Temple on the Pyramid of Thebes: Hungarian Excavations on Thoth Hill at The Temple of Pharaoh Montuhotep Sankhkara, 1995–1998 (Budapest, 1998); Vörös, “Hungarian Excavations on Thot Hill at the Temple of Pharaoh Montuhotep Sankhkara in Thebes (1995–1998),” in 5. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung, Würzburg, 23.–26. September 1999 (Ägypten und Altes Testament 33), ed. H. Beinlich, J. Hallof, H. Hurry, and Ch. von Pfeil (Wiesbaden, 2002), 201–11; Limme, “The Ancient Nest of Horus above Thebes: Hungarian Excavations on Thot Hill at the Temple of King Sankhkare Montuhotep III (1995–1998),” in Egyptology at the Dawn of the TwentyFirst Century: Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Egyptologists. Vol. 1: Archaeology, ed. Z. Hawass (Cairo, 2003), 547–56. 6   J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Egypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (III–IV): nwt m¡wt et ḥ wt-ʿ¡t,” ZÄS 125 (1998): 38–55; Moreno Garcá, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire, 233–38.



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only in certain regions, where land was particularly abundant, whereas the ḥ wt figures prominently in almost all the nomes of Upper Egypt as well as in the capital. The conclusion which can be inferred from study of the geographical and chronological distribution of these institutions is that the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t are more frequently mentioned than the ḥ wt in the ink texts and in private inscriptions at this early stage of Egyptian history, a trend confirmed by later documents and which continued until the last centuries of the third millennium. Apart from ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and ḥ wt, the ink inscriptions also mention the pr ‘house’ of officials and provincial magnates as a source of products delivered to the royal tomb. In light of this evidence we can reasonably conjecture that the local basis of the power of the state consisted of a combination of royal centers founded at certain strategic localities, the sporadic intervention of itinerant crown agents, and the collaboration of local potentates who did not hold administrative or rank titles yet.7 The recent discovery of hundreds of administrative seal stamps at Elephantine shows that an elaborate administrative system was operational at this locality during the first dynasties, when its principal role was that of a fortress and southern frontier-city facing the Nubian populations of the South, as well as, quite probably, a trade center towards the African hinterland. Many of the stamps found, as well as three hieratic inscriptions, date from the 3rd dynasty and concern the activities carried out by different officials and crown agents, including some kind of cereal transfer involving the chief of a village and an official in charge of ships.8 Cereals also came from the state ­warehouses 7   The importance of households as administrative units providing manpower is well attested in Old and Middle Kingdom texts, as well as in later periods: J.C. Moreno García, “Households,” in UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, ed. E. Frood and W. Wendrich (Los Angeles, 2011)(online publication); P. Andrássy, “Symbols in the Reisner Papyri,” in Non-Textual Marking Systems: Writing and Pseudo Script from Prehistory to Modern Times (Lingua Ægyptia, Studia Monographica 8), ed. P. Andrássy, J. Budka, and F. Kammerzell (Göttingen, 2009), 113–22; Andrássy, “Builders’ Graffiti and Administrative Aspects of Pyramid and Temple Building in Ancient Egypt,” in 7. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung: Structuring Religion (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 3/2), ed. R. Preys (Wiesbaden, 2007), 1–16; J. Budka, “Non-­Textual Marks from the Asasif (Western-Thebes): Remarks on Function and Practical Use Based on External Textual Evidence,” in Non-Textual Marking Systems: Writing and Pseudo Script from Prehistory to Modern Times (Lingua Ægyptia, Studia Monographica 8), ed. P. Andrássy, J. Budka, and F. Kammerzell (Göttingen, 2009), 179–203. 8   J.-P. Pätznick, Die Siegelabrollungen und Rollsiegel der Stadt Elephantine im 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr. (Oxford, 2005); G. Dreyer, “Drei archaisch-hieratische Gefäβaufschriften mit Jahresnamen aus Elephantine,” in Form und Mass: Beiträge zur Literatur, Sprache und Kunst des alten Ägypten. Festschrift für Gerhard Fecht, ed. J. Osing and G. Dreyer

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in the vicinity of Abydos and they served to pay the agents of the pharaoh in the remote south. This redistributive pattern was part of a larger one organized as a network of state warehouses, production centers, agricultural domains, and mooring posts which covered the entire country, and which made possible the circulation of products at both a local and a regional level, between the royal centers and the local arrival points.9 All these activities were supervised by a large and complex bureaucracy, where the officials in charge of warehouses, cereals, seals, and people are prominently quoted in the seal stamps. Other categories of people seem to have also played an important role at a local level, though they did not belong to the administrative hierarchy of Elephantine. The practical illustration of such a system has recently come to light thanks to the discovery at Elkab of a contemporary complex, dating from the 3rd–4th dynasties and equipped with storage facilities, silos, and sites where agricultural produce was transformed.10 Many seals recovered at Elkab reveal the activities of several high officials also known from other seals unearthed at Beit Khallaf,11 Abydos, Elephantine, and El-Kubanieh, who served under Khasekhemwy and Djoser and who were involved mainly in the management of ploughs and granaries.12 The geographical scope of their activities and the nature of their responsibilities confirm the role played by the crown in the organization of networks of agricultural, storage, transformation, and supply centers, as well as in the management and control of the resources of the kingdom. Thus the periodical assessment of the wealth of Egypt, doubled with the foundation

(Wiesbaden, 1987), 98–109, fig. 1–2. A granite block found at this locality mentions 3rd dynasty king Huni and sšd, perhaps a ‘rock temple’ (of Satet?). The term sšd is followed by a determinative which looks like the palace ʿḥ ḥ ʿ, even the fortress swnw/ mnnw, thus pointing to a prestigious building; on sšd ‘rock temple,’ see D. Meeks, Année lexicographique Égypte ancienne I (Paris, 19982), 349 [77.3902].  9  Such a system was apparently already operative from the 1st dynasty: L. Mawdsley, “The corpus of potmarks from Tarkhan,” BMSAES 13 (2009), 197–209. 10  S. Hendrickx and M. Eyckerman, “The 1995 Excavation of an Early Old Kingdom Storage Site at Elkab,” in Elkab and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Luc Limme (OLA 191), ed. W. Claes, H. de Meulenaere, and S. Hendrickx (Leuven, 2009), 1–30. 11   The seals recovered from this locality reveal the existence of a well-structured central administration at this early date, whose representatives were active in southern Egypt: I. Incordino, “I sigilli regali della III dinastia da Bet Khallaf (Abido),” Aegyptus 87 (2007): 45–53. 12  I. Regulski, “Early Dynastic Seal Impressions from the Settlement Site of Elkab,” in Elkab and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Luc Limme (OLA 191), ed. W. Claes, H. de Meulenaere, and S. Hendrickx (Leuven, 2009), 31–49.



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of many ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and ḥ wt, points to a provincial two-sector economy, one directly controlled by the crown and the other depending on private activities and local potentates subject to periodical census. It is also noteworthy that the activities documented by the archaeology and the seals, connecting Abydos to Elkab and Elephantine, fit quite well with the region known as H̠ n-Nḫ n, which, according to the sources, included the eight southernmost provinces of Upper Egypt.13 Under these conditions, Elkab offers a good example of the role played by some provincial centers at this early stage of Egyptian history; crown centers were founded there and the collaboration of the local elite with the royal house was further enhanced by the construction of monumental tombs and small step pyramids. Further to the north, the area of Bersheh and Zawiyet el-Maiyitin (provinces 15–16 of the South) emerges as an important focus of power during the 3rd dynasty. The recent discovery of a necropolis of rock tombs dating to this period at Nuwayrat, similar to the contemporaneous ones attested in the Memphite area, provides a precedent for the later preeminent role played by the area of Bersheh under the 4th dynasty; it also shows that a rural elite linked (at least culturally) to Memphis existed there at the beginning of the Old Kingdom.14 It is also quite significant that the only ḥ q¡ ‘governor’ of a province mentioned in the stone vessels at the pyramid of Djeser ruled the 16th nome of Upper Egypt, the area of Zawiyet el-Maiyitin, where more rock tombs have been discovered, thus confirming that this region played an exceptional role at this early stage of the Egyptian state, as further evidence shows.15 As for the Delta, occupation vestiges from the early Old Kingdom have recently been discovered at Kom Rebwa (Sais), as well as a mastaba from the 3rd or even the beginning of the 4th dynasty at Quesna.16 At Mendes well-built walls and fine pottery point to a period of stability and prosperity coeval with the 3rd and 13  S. Quirke, “Provincialising Elites: Defining Regions as Social Relations,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 60–64. 14  M. de Meyer et al., “The Early Old Kingdom at Nuwayrāt in the 16th Upper Egyptian Nome,” in Under the Potter’s Tree: Studies on Ancient Egypt Presented to Janine Bourriau on the Occasion of Her 70th Birthday (OLA 204), ed. D. Aston et al. (Leuven, 2011), 679–702. 15  H.O. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie: Éléments d’une histoire culturelle du Moyen Empire égyptien (Paris, 2008), 16–19. 16   P. Wilson, Sais I. The Ramesside-Third Intermediate Period at Kom Rebwa (London, 2011), 185–87; J. Rowland, “A New Era at Quesna,” EA 38 (2011): 10–13;

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4th dynasties,17 perhaps taking over the role formerly played by Tell el-Farkha as a trade, craft, and storage center in the Eastern Delta.18 The study of the archaeological remains of some ritual monuments reveals the existence of some sort of ‘ideal landscape’, where archaic sanctuaries and small step pyramids served as markers of the frontiers of the kingdom and as memorials to the power of the king. Quite probably, they also correspond to at least some of the main foci of political power within the kingdom. The recently discovered archaic temples at Thebes and Tell Ibrahim Awad should be added to the examples already known from Elephantine, Hierakompolis, and Coptos.19 Archaeologists have emphasized the fact that some of these temples were founded at the frontiers of the kingdom (Tell Ibrahim Awad, Elephantine) as well as in localities with a great symbolic and perhaps political significance for the monarchy (Hieracompolis, Coptos, Thebes). As for the small step pyramids known from this period and from the beginning of the 4th dynasty, they were built in these same localities or in their close proximity (Elephantine, Hieracompolis, Nagada, Abydos) as well as near Memphis, Edfu, and Zawiyet el-Maiyitin.20 In fact, the royal annals of the Old Kingdom record the foundation of cultic centers as one of the most celebrated activities of the monarchy, no doubt because of their symbolic importance, as both ritual buildings and commemorative centers of its power and perhaps also as markers of the links, alliances, and collaboration between the monarchy and powerful local families. In this vein, later sources confirm that the temples and chapels erected by the kings in the nomes, as well as the votive royal offerings placed in the chapels of some local potentates, were important symbolic means used to enhance the pres-

­Rowland, “An Old Kingdom Mastaba and the Results of Continuous Investigations at Quesna in 2010,” JEA 97 (2011): 11–29. 17  D.B. Redford, City of the Ram-Man: The Story of Ancient Mendes (Princeton, 2010), 21. 18  M. Chłodnicki, “The Central Kom of Tell el-Farkha: 1000 Years of History,” in Egypt at Its Origins 3 (OLA 205), ed. R.F. Friedman and P.N. Fiske (Leuven, 2011), 41–57. 19  G. Vörös, Temple on the Pyramid of Thebes; G.A. Belova and T.A. Sherkova, Ancient Egyptian Temple at Tell Ibrahim Awad: Excavations and Discoveries in the Nile Delta (Moscow, 2002). In general, see R. Bussmann, Die Provinztempel Ägyptens von der 0. Zur 11. Dynastie: Archäologie und Geschichte einer gesellschaftlichen Institution zwischen Residenz und Provinz (PdÄ 30; Leiden, 2010). 20  S.J. Seidlmayer, “Town and State in the Early Old Kingdom: A View from Elephantine,” in Aspects of Early Egypt, ed. J. Spencer (London, 1996), 122–26.



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ence and authority of the crown in the provincial world. That is why the small step pyramids seem to be attested only in Upper Egypt, close to important centers of provincial authority in the early Old Kingdom. The pyramid found at Sheila, for instance, is located in a region close to the capital, where pasture land and woodland figure in prominent economic activities included in early Old Kingdom titles, and where the local authorities were able to procure decorated tombs for themselves in a period (the late 5th dynasty) when only exceptional local leaders could afford them.21 In light of the extant textual and archaeological sources, we can conclude that the provincial landscape was already organized in a complex way from the beginning of Egyptian history, and that the foundations of some of its later characteristics and institutions had already been laid at the beginning of the third millennium B.C. The establishment of administrative and agricultural units of the crown all over the country was accompanied by the construction of temples and ceremonial centers which marked, all together, the extent of the domain and the power of the reigning pharaoh. Nevertheless, the collaboration of the local elite was an indispensable, and not always self-evident, aspect of the administration of the nomes. The elusiveness of their members in the sources should not lead to an underestimation of the importance of their role when interpreting the reality of power in ancient Egypt. Little is known about the provinces at this early stage of Egyptian history, even their number, but it seems that a network of close relations between the crown and selected potentates in strategic nomes was as important for the overall working of the system as the appointment of officials and the foundations of administrative centers. This combination of formal (i.e., bureaucratic) and informal elements should also prevent regarding the provinces as well-defined territorial and administrative entities, all of them ruled by means of an identical bureaucratic structure. Quite probably any ‘evolutionary’ interpretation of the provincial administration during the 3rd millennium, from simpler to more evolved forms, should also be avoided. The apparent rise and  N. Swelim, “Reconstruction of the Layer Monument of Snfrw at Seila,” in Echoes of Eternity: Studies Presented to Gaballa Aly Gaballa (Philippika 35), ed. O. El-Aguizy and M. Sherif Ali (Wiesbaden, 2010), 39–56. As for the titles and potentates of this region, see N. Kanawati and A. McFarlane, Deshasha: The Tombs of Inti, Shedu and Others (ACE Reports 5; Sydney, 1993); a 4th dynasty official was jmj-r šnd̠ nb n Š-rsj ‘overseer of all the acacia of the Southern Lake (= the Fayum)’: H. Goedicke, Re-Used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht (New York, 1971), 149–150 [92]. 21

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decline of provincial centers (judging from the presence or absence of decorated tombs) and the visibility or invisibility of the provincial elite were subject to changes over time. The underlying reasons are probably related to political factors and cultural traditions still difficult to ascertain, but they further suggest that personal relations and the king’s will were at least as important as any formal bureaucratic structure in the nomes. This should explain why huge mastabas and rock tombs are attested only in some provinces, as if they displayed the privileged proximity of their owners within the royal sphere.22 Monumental Architecture and Provincial Administration: The 4th Dynasty A good illustration of what has just been stated is provided by the advent of the 4th dynasty and its colossal architectural achievements. Whereas the 3rd dynasty was a period when monumental architecture23 was not incompatible with the visibility of both a provincial elite and administrators in the nomes, the 4th dynasty marks an apparent departure from this model, thus revealing both the fluidity of the system and how inappropriate a rigid evolutionary perspective (from ‘simpler’ to

 Such as the mastaba recently discovered at Quesna, in central Lower Egypt (Rowland, “A New Era at Quesna”), the rock tombs from the area of Bersheh and Zawiyet el-Maiyitin referred to above, the enormous mastabas from Beit Khallaf, Reqaqna, and Naga ed-Deir, all of them around the ancient capital Thinis (Baud, Djéser et la IIIe dynastie [Paris, 2002], 219–24), the rock tomb from the Theban area (Vörös, “Hungarian Excavations on Thot Hill at the Temple of Pharaoh Montuhotep Sankhkara in Thebes [1995–1998]”), and the huge mastaba on top of a hill at El-Kab (Limme, “Report on the Archaeological Work at Elkab”). 23  I. Mathieson and A. Tavares, “Preliminary report of the National Museums of Scotland Saqqara Survey Project, 1990–1991,” JEA 79 (1993): 17–31; I. Mathieson et al., “The National Museums of Scotland Saqqara Survey Project, 1993–1995,” JEA 83 (1997): 27–53; I. Mathieson et al., “The National Museums of Scotland Saqqara Survey Project, Earth Sciences 1990–1998,” JEA 85 (1999): 21–43; M. Baud, Djéser et la IIIe dynastie, 42–46; J. van Wetering, “The Royal Cemetery of the Early Dynastic Period at Saqqara and the Second Dynasty Royal Tombs,” in Egypt at Its Origins: Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams, 1069–71; S. Yoshimura, N. Kawai, and H. Kashiwagi, “A Sacred Hillside at Northwest Saqqara: A Preliminary Report on the Excavations 2001–2003,” MDAIK 61 (2005): 361–402; S. Yoshimura and N. Kawai, “A New Early Old Kingdom Layered Stone Structure at Northwest Saqqara: A Preliminary Report,” in The Old Kingdom Art and Archaeology, ed. M. Bárta (Prague, 2006), 363–74; N. Kawai, “An Early Cult Centre at Abusir-Saqqara? Recent Discoveries at a Rocky Outcrop in North-West Saqqara,” in Egypt at Its Origins 3 (OLA 205), ed. R.F. Friedman and P.N. Fiske (Leuven, 2011), 801–28. 22



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more complex forms) may be for understanding the management of the nomes. This is especially so because it underestimates the influence of specific social and political vicissitudes capable of altering the appearance of provincial elites as well as of provincial administration, while making it difficult to understand why certain phenomena seemingly reemerged over time. Accordingly, not only are huge tombs or richly decorated local necropoles conspicuously absent in the provincial archaeological record, but mere traces of local officers are also rare. Some small mastabas, statues, and tombs reveal that the local elite could in some cases afford the kind of prestigious monuments so well known in the Memphite area. But, on the other hand, monuments and inscriptions from Giza and Saqqara record some agents of the king concerned with the administration of single provinces, entire regions, and crown centers. From this scanty evidence it may be inferred that the former administrative structure continued to be operative, but that its appearance had changed. On the one hand, local potentates continued to exist, even if the exact extent of their authority is difficult to ascertain—it probably depended more on personal links to the Residence than on well-defined bureaucratic careers and administrative structures. On the other hand, the shift of monumental tombs from the provinces to the Memphite region probably points more to the concentration of local rulers in the capital and their integration into the palatial sphere, than to a true centralization of power. In fact, their display of rank and prestige titles in the capital is concomitant with the formalization of a system of titles, many of them underlining a close relationship to the king (rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’, z¡ nzwt ‘son of the king’, msw nzwt ‘children of the king’, etc.).24 Such a coincidence at Memphis, during the Fourth Dynasty, of vast architectural works, carefully planned royal cemeteries, and high dignitaries with territorial responsibilities can hardly be fortuitous. What was the policy underlying these changes? The case of pharaoh Snofru might be a good point of departure, as his measures had a lasting influence on the regional organization and on the rural landscape of the kingdom, and his reign is a welcome exception to the scarcity of provincial sources from this period. The royal annals record the

24  M. Baud, Famille royale et pouvoir sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien (BdÉ 126; Cairo, 1998).

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founding of thirty-five rural establishments (ḥ wt-ʿ¡t or perhaps ḥ wt) in a single year of his reign, as well as some cattle centers. Another year was celebrated because some agricultural ḥ wt units were created in Upper and Lower Egypt.25 This policy is corroborated by the number of historical toponyms which bear the name of king Snofru. Even the mortuary temple of this active pharaoh records for the first time a scene which was later to become canonical in the royal and private monuments of the 3rd millennium: the procession of men and women, each of them identified by a placename, who were depicted carrying offerings and who were supposed to personify the Egyptian localities which delivered agricultural and craft products to the owner of the tomb.26 Most of the place-names were fictitious, but their representation and their number convey the notion of the richness and power of the dead.27 This artistic motif appears for the first time during the reign of Snofru, in the monuments of both the king and his highest officials, like Metjen and Pehernefer. The inscriptions in Metjen’s tomb are the most detailed ones dealing with the regional organization of the kingdom during the middle 3rd millennium.28 His activities mainly concerned the Delta, but he also fulfilled some governmental responsibilities in the 6th and 17th Upper Egyptian provinces. From the titles which display the scope of his activities one can infer the predominance of the royal agricultural centers ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and ḥ wt in the countryside (as was also recorded in the royal annals of Snofru), as well as the foundation and management of agricultural units called grgt and ʿḥ t.29 Furthermore, these royal settlements in some cases replaced other territorial units called pr ‘house’, each of them consisting of several localities. In fact, some toponyms in Metjen’s inscriptions are named either ḥ wt(-ʿ¡t) or pr; as pr was no longer used to designate territorial units in Egyptian sources until the late Old Kingdom, it is probable that the use of such alternative names

 K. Sethe, Urkunden des Alten Reiches (Leipzig, 1933), 236.  H.K. Jacquet-Gordon, Les noms des domaines funéraires sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien (BdE 34; Cairo, 1962), 125–37. See also E. Edel, “Studien zu den Relieffragmenten aus dem Taltempel des Königs Snofru,” in Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson, P. der Manuelian (Boston, 1996), vol. I, 199–208. 27  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 152–54. 28   Urk. I 1–7. 29   J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Egypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C.: grgt et le titre ʿ(n)d̠-mr grgt,” ZÄS 123 (2006): 116–38. 25 26



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for the same toponym in Metjen’s texts shows the gradual replacement of the pr by the ḥ wt(-ʿ¡t). The ink inscriptions from Djeser’s pyramid as well as the names of some districts from the end of the 3rd millennium reveal that the pr toponyms were usually formed after personal names, a feature which might hint at the existence of local potentates: one noteworthy example is pr-Ḫ ww, where Ḫ ww’s name, a governor of Edfu in the late Old Kingdom, was used to designate the three southernmost nomes of Upper Egypt. And sometimes the geographical provenance of workers teams was indicated either by the name of the locality from which they came or by the name of the official in charge of a specific region, as if his name had some kind of toponymic value.30 In any case pr, ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, and ḥ wt appear in Metjen’s titles as territorial units which included several localities, fields, and agricultural domains. The general picture that emerges from this rich epigraphic record is that Metjen was an official involved in the territorial administration and productive organization of large areas of the Delta and the Fayum, including the foundation of many agricultural projects and the probable replacement of ancient districts by new territorial units dominated by royal centers. It also seems that one of the aims of king Snofru’s policy was the pursuit of some kind of territorial administrative homogeneity, as can be deduced from the replacement of the pr units by royal ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and ḥ wt.31 The inscriptions and the administrative titles of other officials, like Pehernefer, Netjeraperef, Isi, and Nesutnefer confirm this picture. Even if the date of their monuments cannot be always established with reasonable accuracy, or be assigned to a specific reign, their titles nevertheless underscore that the policy of the first pharaohs of the 4th dynasty was to pursue an effective territorial control and agricultural organization of the countryside. The titles of Nesutnefer, for example, suggest that the control of workers (nzwtjw) and defensive buildings (the swnw towers) usually went hand in hand in some provinces in Upper Egypt, whereas the duties of some officials of the 4th and 5th dynasties exhibit the same concern for the simultaneous control of ­workers and towers in some Upper Egyptian provinces where ­agricultural

30  F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht: The Control Notes and Team Marks (Egyptian Expedition 23; New York, 1990), 26. Cf. also above, n. 7. 31  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire, 233–38.

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centers like the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t were also documented.32 In fact, temples, ḥ wtʿ¡t, grgt, and the swnw towers were the most conspicuous elements of the provincial landscape during the 4th dynasty. The frequency of their appearance in titles held by high officials with extensive territorial responsibilities, as well as the information provided by the epigraphic and archaeological evidence related to temples,33 underlines the importance attached by the crown to the production, storage, and delivery of agricultural items, especially in the regions close to ­Memphis— that is to say, in Lower Egypt and the northernmost provinces of Middle Egypt.34 This importance is confirmed by the written and archaeological record. The papyri of Gebelein, dating from about the end of the 4th dynasty,35 are part of an administrative archive which records lists of the inhabitants of some villages close to Gebelein classified by name, title, locality, and the kind of work that they accomplished. The villages formed an administrative unit (pr-d̠t) and many of their inhabitants are referred to as ‘royal serfs’ (ḥ m-nzwt) in a context of deliveries of grain and cloths and of building activities in a temple of king Snofru (ḥ wt-nt̠r nt Snfrw). The enormous architectural projects of the pharaohs of the 4th dynasty were only possible thanks to the mobilization of a great number of workers and raw materials, as well as to a complex labor organization traces of which can be found at the pyramid worker city at Giza.36 Later sources mention the fact that the labor force employed in the construction of the pyramids of the Middle Kingdom came, precisely, from Lower and Middle

32   J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (II): swnw,” ZÄS 124 (1997), 116–30. 33   Urk. I 7:3; 25:4–6. See also the archaeological evidence of provincial temples from this period in R. Bussmann, Die Provinztempel Ägyptens von der 0. zur 11. Dynastie, passim, and J.C. Moreno García, “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle de l’Ancien et du Moyen Empire,” in L’agriculture institutionnelle en Égypte ancienne: État de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires (CRIPEL 25), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2006), 97–102. 34  See the references cited in the previous note as well as J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C.: grgt et le titre ʿ(n)d̠-mr grgt,” ZÄS 123 (1996), 116–38; Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (III–IV): nwt m¡wt et ḥ wt-ʿ¡t,” 38–55. 35   P. Posener-Krieger, I papiri di Gebelein—Scavi G. Farina 1935—(Gebelein 1) (Turin, 2004). 36  N.J. Conrad and M.E. Lehner, “The 1988/1989 Excavation of Petrie’s ‘Workmen’s Barracks’ at Giza,” JARCE 38 (2001): 21–60.



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Egypt, both from the domains (rmnjjt) of several officials and from many localities.37 As for the royal annals, they show that cult centers in provincial Egypt were founded and richly endowed by the kings. Consequently, the Gebelein papyri are invaluable early evidence showing how royal control was exerted over the work and production of villagers far away in the South. The existence of such economic and redistribution circuits, relying on the provinces, the sanctuaries, and the crown productive centers (ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, ḥ wt, grgt, swnw) is confirmed by the archaeological record. The recent discovery in the region of Sheikh Said of a work center specialized in the production of stone vessels is a good example.38 Some seals bear the name of Khufu and the ceramic and organic evidence recovered from the site reveal that the workforce was supplied by the administration. Not surprisingly, 4th dynasty rock tombs have also recently detected in this province.39 Another case is the locality of Kom el-Hisn, in the western Delta, where the remains of a specialized ­productive center have been unearthed. In conformity with the analysis of the faunal and vegetal remains, Kom el-Hisn was a livestock ­breeding center whose production was only partly consumed by the local ­inhabitants.40 Accordingly, the flocks were perhaps driven to Memphis in order to provide the workers employed in the building projects of the crown with the rations necessary to feed them. The existence of economic circuits which might have linked Memphis to Kom el-Hisn seems realistic from an epigraphic perspective, as some officials of the Old Kingdom were responsible for a rearing center (ḥ wt-jḥ t ‘the ḥ wt

 F. Arnold, The Control Notes and Team Marks, 24 fig. 1.  H.O. Willems, “Un domaine royal de l’époque de Khéops/Khoufou à el-Cheikh Saïd / Ouadi Zabeida,” BSFE 175 (2009): 13–28; H.O. Willems et al., “An Industrial Site at al-Shaykh Saʿīd/Wādī Zabayda,” ÄuL 19 (2009): 293–331; S. Vereecken, “An Old Kingdom Bakery at Sheikh Said South: Preliminary Report on the Pottery Corpus,” in Old Kingdom, New Perspectives: Egyptian Art and Archaeology 2750–2150 BC, ed. N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick (Oxford, 2011), 278–85. 39  M. de Meyer, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital? Deir el-Bersha and el-Sheikh Said in the Fifteenth Upper Egyptian Nome during the Old Kingdom,” in Old Kingdom, New Perspectives: Egyptian Art and Archaeology 2750–2150 BC, ed. N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick (Oxford, 2011), 43. 40  R.J. Wenke et al., “Kom el-Hisn: Excavation of an Old Kingdom Settlement in the Egyptian Nile Delta,” JARCE 25 (1988): 5–34; M.F. Moens and W. Wetterstrom, “The Agricultural Economy of an Old Kingdom Town in Egypt’s West Delta: Insights from Plant Remains,” JNES 47 (1988), 159–73; A. Cagle, The Spatial Structure of Kom el-Hisn: An Old Kingdom Town in the Western Nile Delta, Egypt (Oxford, 2003). 37 38

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of the cow’) situated precisely in the vicinity of this locality.41 Furthermore, large corrals and areas of meat and hide processing have been recovered at the pyramid town of Giza.42 A specialized aspect of this policy was related to the creation and supply of logistic bases aimed to get goods from abroad. Elephantine continued to be an important one towards Nubia, to the point that at least one overseer of this locality, called Ḫ wfw-ʿnḫ , was appointed during the 4th dynasty.43 Bearing in mind that great military expeditions were dispatched into Nubia under the reigns of Snofru and his successors, that a fortress was operative at Buhen hundreds of kilometres to the south of Egypt, and that quarries were exploited in the south-­western deserts, the strategic as well as logistic importance of Elephantine is easily understood. Thus, the titles of an official like Ḫ wfw-ʿnḫ combined military functions (nfr ‘recruit’), local leadership (sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’), official territorial responsibility ( jmj-r ¡bw ‘overseer of Elephantine’), some kind of involvement in palace revenue ( jrj ḫ t pr-ʿ¡ ‘(official) in charge of the goods/matters of the palace’), and closeness to the king (rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’). Similar logistic centers are being revealed thanks to archaeology, like Mut el-Kharab, in the Dakhleh oasis,44 doubtless connected to the extractive activities of valuable materials recorded in the inscriptions and seals found at the ‘Redjedef Mountain’ as well as in some seals found at Giza, which prove that expeditions were sent deep into the Eastern Sahara during this period.45 Seals with the name of king Khafra 41   J.C. Moreno García, “La gestion des aires marginales: pḥ w, gs, t̠nw, sḫ t au IIIe millénaire,” in Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honor of Naguib Kanawati (ASAE Supplément, Cahier 38), ed. A. Woods, A. McFarlane, S. Binder (Cairo, 2010), vol. II, 58–60. 42  R. Redding, “The OK Corral: Standing Wall Island Mystery, Solved,” AERAGRAM 12/1 (2011): 2–5; L. Yeomans, “Stews, Meat, and Marrow: Extracting Protein and Fat for the Lost City,” AERAGRAM 12/2 (2011), 13–15. 43  L. Habachi, “A group of unpublished Old and Middle Kingdom graffiti on Elephantine,” WZKM 54 (1957), 57–64, fig. 1–2, pl. 1–2. 44   C.A. Hope et al., “The Excavations at Mut el-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis in 2008,” BACE 19 (2008): 119–38. Cf., however, A. Pettman, “Form and Function: A Case Study of Site Function as Determined through Ceramic Material from the Two Areas of Ain el-Gazzareen Dakhleh Oasis,” Cahiers de la céramique égyptienne 9 (2011): 345–66. 45  K.P. Kuhlmann, “The ‘Oasis Bypath’ or the Issue of Desert Trade in Pharaonic Times,” in Tides of the Desert—Gezeiten der Wüste: Contributions to the Archaeology and Enviromental History of Africa in Honour of Rudolph Kuper, ed. T. Lenssen-Erz (Cologne, 2002), 125–70; Kuhlmann, “Der ‘Wasserbeg des Djedefre’ (Chufu 01/1): Ein Lagerplatz mit Expeditionsinschriften der 4. Dynastie im Raum der Oase Dachla,”



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have been found at Ayn Sukhna, the maritime Egyptian base at the Suez Gulf wherefrom expeditions were sent into Sinai and the Red Sea during the Old and Middle kingdoms,46 while an impressive late 4th/ mid-5th dynasty harbor has recently been discovered at Wadi el-Jarf, on the Red Sea coast, broadly in the middle of Suez Gulf, south of Ayn Sukhna.47 And maritime expeditions were sent to the Levant and Punt according to the royal annals, where Byblos played the pivotal role of intermediary between the Egyptian traders and the levantine powers. In this respect, the titles of some contemporary officials, like Nesutnefer at Giza, testify to the presence of fortresses at strategic areas,48 as he was overseer of fortified towers and crown centers (ḥ wt-ʿ¡t) in the 8th and 10th provinces of Upper Egypt and overseer of royal fortresses, fortified enclosures, and deserts in the 13th province of Lower Egypt, a province which during this period encompassed a substantial part of the eastern branch of the Nile as well as access to Wadi Tumilat, the transit route between the Delta and the Sinai used by nomad populations. Bearing in mind that desert routes from the 8th and 10th provinces of Upper Egypt connected the valley with the oasis of the Western Desert, it seems that Nesutnefer was responsible for at least some strategic approaches into Egypt as well as for the fortresses which surveyed them. Conspicuously, the western Delta did not figure among his activities in spite of the military expeditions sent by Sneferu into Libya. Finally, the recent archaeological work carried out at some localities of the Eastern Delta, like Tell el-Farkha and Mendes, reveals that the latter replaced the former as the main departure point for contacts with the Levant. The seals found at Mendes furthermore show that some kind of local representatives and officials of the king had

MDAIK 61 (2005): 243–89; F. Förster, “Preliminary Report on the Seal Impressions Found at Site Chufu 01/01 in the Dakhla Region (2002 Campaign),” GM 217 (2008): 17–25; Kuhlmann, “With Donkeys, Jars and Water Bags into the Libyan Desert: The Abu Ballas Trail in the Late Old Kingdom/First Intermediate Period,” BMSAES 7 (2007): 1–36. 46  L. Pantalacci, “Travaux de l’Institut français d’archéologie orientale en 2004– 2005,” BIFAO 105 (2005): 485. 47   P. Tallet and G. Marouard, “An Early Pharaonic Harbour on the Red Sea Coast,” EA 40 (2012): 40–43. 48  H. Junker, Gîza III (Wien, 1938), 172–76, fig. 27, 28, 30; H.G. Fischer, “Four provincial administrators at the memphite cemeteries,” JAOS 74 (1954): 26–29; N. Kanawati, Tombs at Giza. Volume II: Seshathetep/Heti (G 5150), Nesutnefer (G 4970) and Seshemnefer II (G5080) (Warminster, 2002), 32–33, pl. 53.

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been active there since the Archaic period.49 Later, one of the scarce cemeteries with decorated mastabas known in the Old Kingdom Delta emerged precisely at this locality,50 and it is possible that officials involved in trade with the Levant also came from this town.51 It is significant in this respect that Old Kingdom Levantine temples have been discovered in the Eastern Delta.52 All these examples show that the pharaohs of the 4th dynasty seem to have followed the traditional Egyptian policy of centralizing in specific localities, like Elephantine, the logistics necessary to provide for expeditions sent abroad. Consequently, the vast architectural achievements of the 4th dynasty may be interpreted more as a symptom than as the cause of the apparent centralization of the kingdom. The aims followed by the pharaohs were similar to those of their predecessors, and their massive construction projects would have been unthinkable without the experience and the fiscal and territorial organization developed during the 3rd dynasty. In fact supra-provincial administrators, like Metjen, Pehernefer, and Isi, might be invoked as the successors of the officials of the 3rd dynasty who were involved in agricultural and managerial activities in several southern localities (cf. above), while being the forerunners of the later holders of the title of jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’ from the 5th dynasty on.53 Only the self-presentation and  D.B. Redford, “Some Old Kingdom sealings from Mendes. I,” in Servant of Mut: Studies in Honor of Richard A. Fazzini, ed. S.H. D’Auria (Leiden, 2008), 198–203; Redford, ed., Delta Reports Research in Lower Egypt 1 (Oxford, 2009). 50  D.P. Hansen, “Mendes 1965 and 1966,” JARCE 6 (1967): 5–51. Important building activities were carried out in the local temple during the 3rd–4th dynasties: D.B. Redford, City of the Ram-Man, 18–41. 51  M. Marcolin, “Ἰny, a Much-Travelled Official of the Sixth Dynasty: Unpublished Reliefs in Japan,” in Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2005, ed. M. Bartá, F. Coppens, and J. Krejčí, (Prague, 2006), 282–310; Marcolin, “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche e geografiche,” Atti della Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche, Filologiche 144 (2010): 43–79. 52  M. Bietak, “Two Ancient Near Eastern Temples with Bent Axis in the Eastern Nile Delta,” ÄuL 13 (2003): 13–38; Bietak, “The Predecessors of the Hyksos,” in Confronting the Past: Archaeological and Historical Essays on Ancient Israel in Honor of William G. Dever, ed. S. Gitin, J.E. Wright, J.P. Dessel (Winona Lake, 2006), 285–93; Bietak, “The Early Bronze Age III Temple at Tell Ibrahim Awad and Its Relevance to the Egyptian Old Kingdom,” in Perspectives on Ancient Egypt: Studies in Honor of Edward Brovarski (CASAE 40), ed. Z. Hawass, P. Der Manuelian, and R.B. Hussein (Cairo, 2010), 65–77. 53  For instance, both Nt̠r-ʿpr.f and Nfr-M¡ʿt, buried at Dashur, bore the title jmj-r z¡w Šmʿw ‘overseer of the phyles of Upper Egypt’, while Jzj was sšm t¡ zp¡wt Šmʿw ‘leader of the land (in) the provinces of Upper Egypt’: Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 236–37. 49



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the visibility of the local elite changed. In fact, provincial authorities were assimilated within an administrative structure subject to ­formal transformations. On the one hand, some officials with territorial responsibilities appear fully integrated within the Memphite palatial sphere, like any other high dignitary of the central administration: they built their tombs in the royal necropolis around the capital, their rank and titles are indiscernible from those of their colleagues not involved in provincial matters, and nothing except a few particular titles suggest a provincial background.54 Furthermore, an analysis of their functions shows no trace of a specific pattern of career or social elevation, as their titles are quite varied and differentiated and they surely represent only a small minority of the officials involved in the territorial administration. To put it another way, their promotion seems to have been related more to their closeness and personal links to the pharaoh than to a strict cursus or the display of specific titles. Thus Špsj, an overseer of scribes of the fields in nome 12 of Lower Egypt, was one of the rare provincial administrators who owned a tomb at Saqqara, in despite of his not particularly high titles.55 As for Metjen, he controlled many ḥ wt-ʿ¡t in several nomes of the Delta, but not every governor of a ḥ wtʿ¡t displayed a comparable status during the 4th dynasty. In fact, only some of the governors of a ḥ wt (ḥ q¡ ḥ wt), more precisely those enjoying princely status (like Rahotep)56 or some other special status, could afford a decorated tomb at this early period. The same might also apply to an official like Nesutnefer, whose control over fortresses at the frontiers of the kingdom appear unparalleled in 4th dynasty sources. The exceptional position of these officials among their colleagues (judging from the scarce evidence preserved) may be related to their consideration as select officials forming, together with other colleagues from different departments, the core of the royal administration. In fact, the titles of some officials, like Hetepi, reveal the existence of ­ceremonial

 Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 236–37.   Cairo JE 68923 (M. el-Khadragy, “Two Old Kingdom false doors from Saqqara,” GM 174 [2000]: 37–41, fig. 1 and 3[a], pl. 1): jmj-r zš n ¡ḥ t T̠b Nt̠rt ‘overseer of the scribes of the fields of nome 12 of Lower Egypt’, jmj-r zš n T̠b Nt̠rt ‘overseer of the scribes of the nome 12 of Lower Egypt’, jmj-r zš zp¡t ‘overseer of the scribes of the province’, rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’, ḥ m-nt̠r Ḥ r T̠ḥ nw q¡-ʿ ‘prophet of Horus of Lybia, elevated of arm’, zš pr-ḥ rj-wd̠b ‘overseer of the reversion department’. 56   Y. Harpur, The Tombs of Nefermaat and Rahotep at Maidum: Discovery, Destruction and Reconstruction (Oxford, 2001), 94–158, 203–18, pl. 39–80. 54 55

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buildings, like the ḥ wt-ʿnḫ and its ‘ten great ones’ (an institution grouping together some eminent courtiers), whose members possibly constituted some kind of royal counsel.57 Also noteworthy is the fact that these officials were mainly involved in the administration of areas in northern Egypt, a region which appears to have been controlled directly by the crown. What happened then in the nomes themselves? Even if the traces of local cemeteries with massive and/or richly decorate tombs are almost entirely missing, this does not mean that the central administration lacked representatives in the provinces. In fact, as stated above, what changed was the way in which the local potentates presented themselves. Consequently, the fact that large mastabas and decorated tombs are attested almost exclusively in the Memphite area means that the visibility and self-presentation of the local elites, especially the Upper Egyptian ones, faded away in a period when being buried around the king was almost the only way (and certainly the most prestigious one) to ensure such visibility. However the provincial potentates did not disappear and their collaboration continued to be indispensable for the governance of the country.58 Thus, their integration within the administrative structure of the kingdom followed patterns discernible thanks to the material culture and some inscriptions. One such pattern is the diffusion of stone vessels inscribed with the name of pharaoh Sneferu, like those discovered in the vicinity of Elkab, Abidos, and Tehna (Gebel el-Teir), that is to say, in the same areas which had played so important a role in previous centuries and where powerful potentates had built huge tombs and cemeteries. Such vessels probably arrived in the nomes as official gifts from the royal court sent to selected potentates. It is worth noting that, once again, these areas display some of the scarce necropoles where mastabas and rock tombs were built during the 4th dynasty, like those of the Theban region (El-Tarif, Gebelein), the Thinite area (Abydos, Naga ed-Der, Reqaqna), and the zone around the nomes XV–XVI of the 57  M. Bárta, F. Coppens, H. Vymazalova, et al., Tomb of Hetepi (AS 20), Tombs AS 33–35 and AS 50–53 (Abusir, XIX; Prague, 2010), 3–56. On ḥ wt-ʿnḫ , see J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Ægyptiaca Leodiensia, 4; Liège, 1997), 140–144. 58   J.C. Moreno García, “La gestion sociale de la mémoire dans l’Égypte du IIIe millénaire: Les tombes des particuliers, entre utilisation privée et idéologie publique,” in Dekorierte Grabanlagen im Alten Reich—Methodik und Interpretation (IBAES 6), ed. M. Fitzenreiter and M. Herb (London, 2006), 215–32.



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South (Nuweirat),59 where Sheikh Said also shows the traces of a work center supplied by the officials of Khufu.60 The case of Gebel el-Teir is perhaps a good example of the continuity of the local elites and their collaboration with the monarchy, as the rock tomb of a certain Iymery records among his titles the rather rare and archaic ḥ q¡ nzwt ‘governor of the king’, also displayed by other members of his ­family.61 As for Tehna, the inscription of Nikaankh records the donation of a field of two arouras during the reign of Menkaura,62 while some early sculptures from Elkab representing priests suggest that the local temple was a prominent basis of power for the local elite,63 a situation paralleled at Dendera.64 At the same time, the monarchy was also present in the countryside: some small step pyramids date back to this period, a prince like Nikaure possessed several domains in the provinces of the Delta, the area of Fayum, and Deir el-Gebrawi65 and, finally, officials buried in the Memphite area, like Metjen, Nesutnefer, and Netjera­ peref, were also active in some Upper Egyptian provinces (XVII; VIII, X; and V–VII respectively). Conversely, potentates from Upper Egypt were involved in missions for the king even if nothing is known about them in their nomes of provenance. Two inscriptions from Khor el-Aquiba, in northern Nubia, record the passage of Egyptians armies commanded by leaders from Upper and Lower Egypt during the Fourth Dynasty who bore the title of ‘acquaintance of the king’: “The acquaintance of the king in the 17th province of Upper Egypt, Khabaubat, came with an army of 20,000 men to hack up the land of Wawat”, and “the acquaintance of the king in the northern part of the 14th province of Lower Egypt, Zauib: 17,000 Nubians were taken”.66 The existence of such ‘elusive administrators’ from poorly documented provinces should be

  Willems, Les textes des sarcophages et la démocratie, 16–19.  See above, n. 38. 61  M. Ahmed Kamal, “Fouilles à Gebel-el-Teyr,” ASAE 4 (1903): 85–90. 62   Urk. I 25–26. 63  D. Wildung, “La Haute-Egypte, un style particulier de la statuaire de l’Ancien Empire?” in L’art de l’Ancien Empire Egyptien, ed. Chr. Ziegler (Paris, 1999), 335–53. 64  H.G. Fischer, Dendera in the Third Millennium B.C down to the Theban Domination of Upper Egypt (Locust Valley, 1968), 14–21. 65   Urk. I 17. 66   J. López, “Inscriptions de l’Ancien Empire à Khor El-Aquiba,” RdÉ 19 (1967): 51–66; W. Helck, “Die Bedeutung der Felsinschriften J. López, Inscripciones rupestres Nr. 27 und 28,” SAK 1 (1974): 47–77; N. Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 149–150 [76]. 59 60

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taken into consideration in any analysis of the administrative structure of this period. In fact, their title of ‘acquaintance of the king’ reveals some kind of contact with the court, perhaps comparable to that known by the gift of precious stone vessels quoted above. The absence of monumental architecture in their nomes thus proves to be an inconclusive argument that in no way precludes the existence of local high dignitaries; this confirms, as stated above, the importance of personal ties between the king and local elites for the administration of the kingdom. In any case, the traces of a different administrative structure between Upper and Lower Egypt may be inferred from some titles from this period. Metjen and Pehernefer, for instance, were ‘specialists’ in the management of the Delta, while an official like Isi was overseer of the treasure, but also sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’ of the nomes of Upper Egypt and swšw (?) of the nomes of Lower Egypt. The use of different titles when referring to northern and southern provinces probably points to some administrative particularities of each region. Thus, for instance, the title ʿd̠-mr of a nome was restricted to Lower Egyptian provinces, while sšm t¡ was confined to Upper Egypt; jmj-r wpt ‘overseer of missions’ appears in both areas, probably because officials bearing this title carried out the missions ordered by the king, usually in several nomes. In any case, the title ʿd̠-mr was in no way limited to territorial administration, as it was also used in other activities67 and, judging from inscriptions like the 6th dynasty biography of Hesi of Saqqara, it marked a precise position within an administrative hierarchy, at least in the scribal sphere.68 Whether such a particular hierarchical position may or may not be arguable for earlier dates, it nevertheless seems that the title ʿd̠-mr conveyed administrative notions that are absent from the title sšm t¡. In fact, the very specific geographical scope of sšm t¡ and the fact of its not being employed in any other administrative sphere suggest rather a very distinctive kind of authority different from that of a ʿd̠-mr, but also from that of a governor of a nome, as the combination of the titles sšm t¡ and ḥ q¡ zp¡t in Metjen’s inscriptions or that of sšm t¡ and jmj-r ¡bw ‘overseer of Elephantine’ of Ḫ wfw-ʿnḫ of Aswan suggest. Later on, during the 5th dynasty, the ʿd̠-mr of a nome 67  Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Egypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C.: grgt et le titre ʿ(n)d̠-mr grgt,” 136–37. 68  N. Kanawati, The Teti Cemetery at Saqqara. Vol. V: The Tomb of Hesi (ACE Reports, 13; Warminster, 1999), 37–38, pl. 59.



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would disappear in Lower Egypt, but the title sšm t¡ would subsist in the South. The 5th Dynasty The royal annals of the 5th dynasty and the increasing number of inscriptions from this period concerning the activities of local authorities give a more accurate picture of the administration of the provinces than possible in the case of earlier dynasties.69 Both types of sources provide crucial information regarding the two most important pillars of the state in the countryside: the temples and the agricultural centers of the crown. For the first time temples became an important element of the rural landscape in the epigraphic record. This probably does not mean that their role was insignificant before, as it can be inferred from inscriptions like those in the tomb of Nikaankh of Tehna. This provincial official and his family succeeded in gaining control of both the local temple of the goddess Hathor and the royal agricultural centers of the crown in the province ( jmj-r nwwt m¡wt ‘overseer of the new agricultural exploitations [lit. localities]’, jmj-r pr n ḥ wt-ʿ¡t ‘administrator of a great ḥ wt’) at the beginning of the 5th dynasty. The texts in his tomb also describe an important event: the donation of a field of two arouras by king Mykerinos of the 4th dynasty, a donation which was confirmed by subsequent kings. Some kilometres south of Tehna, a fragmentary royal decree of Raneferef at Bersheh also records the assignment of a set of high titles to a local dignitary, Ia-ib, a jrj pʿt, ḥ ¡tj-ʿ, and ḫ tmw bjtj who also bore priestly titles like h̠rj-ḥ b ‘lector-priest’ as well as courtly ones like ḫ rp nswj ‘director of the two thrones’ and ḫ rp sd̠t nzwt ‘director of royal foster child(ren)’, while the recently discovered tomb of Nj-ʿnḫ -Nmtj shows that he was ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t and ḫ tmw bjtj.70 Finally, the decree of Neferirkare at Abydos, addressed to the overseer 69  Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, 78–108; N. Kanawati, Akhmim in the Old Kingdom. Part I: Chronology and Administration (ACE Studies 2; Sydney, 1992), 23–45; Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 238–41. 70   Tomb 16L34/1: H.O. Willems et al., “Report of the 2004–2005 Campaigns of the Belgian Mission to Deir al-Barsha,” MDAIK 65 (2009): 397; R. Anthes, Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub (Leipzig, 1928), pl. 2 [inscr. XV]; M. de Meyer, “The Fifth Dynasty Royal Decree of Ia-ib at Dayr al-Barshā,” Revue d’Égyptologie 62 (2011): 57–71. On Nj-ʿnḫ -Nmtj (tomb 15N56/1), see de Meyer, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital?” in Old Kingdom, New Perspectives: Egyptian Art and Archaeology 2750–2150 BC, ed. N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick (Oxford, 2011), 43–45.

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of priests Hemwer, details the measures intended to protect the personnel of the temple (priests and mrt corvée workers) from any compulsory work ‘of the nome’ and from any illegal ­initiative taken by ‘any man of the nome’ or by authorities such as the sr ‘dignitary’, rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’, or ḥ rj-wd̠b ‘manager of reversions’.71 These categories of officials more probably refer to agents sent by the king than to local chiefs or authorities—the men ‘of the nome’ mentioned in several passages of the decree, even if rḫ nzwt were in some cases the main provincial authorities, according to the papyri of Neferirkara, or the titles of some provincial authorities like Ḫ w-ns of Zawiyet elMayetin.72 Provincial temples thus appear to have been endowed and protected by the king and to have been in the hands of local authorities who accumulated other functions related to the court and to the management of the centers of the crown. Such a policy towards provincial temples may be better understood in light of the royal annals of the 5th dynasty, which contain detailed descriptions of the fields allotted to local sanctuaries by the king.73 This activity was considered one of the most important events in the reign of any pharaoh, and the donations were numerous and sometimes involved fields of a considerable surface area, up to about 350 arouras (= 96 ha). It is difficult to ascertain the social and economic context of these land transfers; sometimes they were accompanied by the allotment of workers and processing centers,74 and later examples from Coptos reveal that the fields could be taken from royal pastures and riparian land, as if the allotment of royal land to the sanctuaries implied the obligation to bring it into cultivation. This probably explains the frequency of the donations in Lower Egypt, a region which may be considered a kind of a ‘frontier area’, with extensive grazing and agricultural land and which was apparently under direct administration by the crown. It is worth remembering in this respect that 4th dynasty officials like Metjen or Shepsi controlled fields in this area,75 including ʿḥ t-exploitations, a category of fields usually subject to special

  Urk. I 170–172; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 98–101, with additional bibliography. 72   P. Piacentini, Zawiet el-Mayetin nel III millennio a.C. (Monografie di SEAP— Series Minor 4; Pisa, 1993), 49–50. 73   Urk. I 239–249; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 69–74. 74   Urk. I 247. 75  On Shepsi, see above, n. 55. 71



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compulsory labor and intended to deliver standard quotas of grain.76 In fact, several scribes of the fields in Lower Egypt are known from this period, also involved in cultic activities in the funerary temples of the king or in possession of valuable funerary equipment in the Memphite region, a proof of their high status. Thus, Jt̠j was jmj-r zš ¡ḥ t n T̠b nt̠rt ‘overseer of the scribes of the fields in nome 12 of Lower Egypt’,77 while an anonymous official mentioned in the accounts of the funerary temple of king Neferirkara, at Abusir, bore the title of zš ¡ḥ t ‘scribe of the fields’ of nome 2 of the Delta.78 Nevertheless the intervention of the king in the matters of provincial temples does not conceal the fact that they were often controlled by powerful local families, especially in Upper Egypt, and one can infer that control of a sanctuary had deep social and economic effects at a local level, as it placed the chief of a temple at the head of considerable resources and, quite probably, of patronage networks that he could use to his own advantage. The case of Nikaankh of Thenah is worth mentioning, as he and his wife and children monopolized the main ritual functions of the local temple of Hathor, while he and Hemwer of Abydos had a direct relationship with the king, as their titles and activities reveal. In any case, the inscriptions from several provincial cemeteries, like Deshasha, Tehna, Zawiyet el-Mayetin, Bersheh, Sheikh Said, Hemammiya, and El-Hawawish show the emergence of local potentates (in some cases for only brief periods of time), in sharp contrast with the scarcity of archaeological and epigraphic evidence characteristic of the 4th dynasty. Many of these potentates appear to have charge of the agricultural centers of the crown: the swnw towers, the new royal agricultural foundations called nwt m¡wt, the grgt riparian domains, the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t royal agricultural and administrative centers and, finally, the agricultural centers ḥ wt. The ḥ wt-ʿ¡t is more frequently mentioned in the titles of local administrators prior to the beginning of the 6th dynasty, when it disappeared almost completely, replaced by the ubiquitous ḥ wt, whose presence is attested in nearly every province of 76   Urk. I 2: 3, 5; 6: 3, 10, 15. Cf. also 3: 11. On ʿḥ t-land, cf. J.C. Moreno García, “Les jḥ wtjw et leur rôle socio-économique au IIIe et IIe millénaires avant J.-C.,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 321–351. 77   CGC 1346 = L. Borchardt, CGC. Denkmäler des Alten Reiches (ausser den Statuen), vol. I (Cairo, 1937), 21; PM III² 768. 78   P. Posener-Krieger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï (les papyrus d’Abousir): Traduction et commentaire (BdÉ 65; Cairo, 1976), vol. II, 595.

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Upper Egypt during the 6th dynasty.79 Thanks to the Abydos decree of Neferirkara80 it is possible to understand the governmental system implemented in the nomes; this document mentions the royal agents involved in provincial matters: they were the srw ‘dignitaries’, the rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’, and the ḥ rj wd̠b, a title which refers to the control of the distribution of agricultural production. While the term sr ‘dignitary’ seems to have been applied to the high dignitaries of the central administration, the title rḫ nzwt ‘acquaintance of the king’ conveys a more general and less precise administrative meaning, so as to describe any official of a certain status closely related to the palace and who could carry out missions ordered by the king. Such high, but vague authority brings to mind the situation prevailing in the 4th dynasty, when dignitaries from some nomes carried missions for the king elsewhere, thus strengthening the collaboration between the pharaoh and the local elites. One of the Abusir papyri from the funerary complex of Neferirkara exemplifies just such a close relationship during the 5th dynasty, as officials with territorial responsibilities in Lower Egypt performed cultic activities in the funerary temple of the king, sometimes being replaced by their sons or by other personnel. Some of these officials were rḫ nzwt of specific provinces, like Lower Egypt nomes 4/5 and 11, while others were scribes of the fields or treasurers in their respective provinces.81 It is worth noting that former administrators in Lower Egypt who displayed extensive sets of titles, like Metjen and Pehernefer, never held the title of rḫ nzwt of a nome. Quite the contrary, they exerted specific functions, usually related to productive centers of the crown. But in some cases, a 79  Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C.: grgt et le titre ʿ(n)d̠-mr grgt”; Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (II): swnw” ZÄS 124 (1997): 116–30; Moreno García., “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (III–IV): nwt m¡wt et ḥ wt-ʿ¡t”; Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (V): gs-pr,” ZÄS 126 (1999): 116–31; Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, passim; Moreno García, “The State and the Organization of the Rural Landscape in 3rd Millennium BC Pharaonic Egypt,” in Aridity, Change and Conflict in Africa (Colloquium Africanum 2), ed. M. Bollig, O. Bubenzer, R. Vogelsang, and H.-P. Wotzka (Cologne, 2007), 313–30. To the list of 5th dynasty ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t should now be added Nj-ʿnḫ -Nmtj of Bersheh: de Meyer, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital?” 43–45. 80   Urk. I 170–172. 81   Posener-Krieger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï, II, 594–95.



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­ rovincial potentate could be honored by the title of rḫ nzwt of a nome p instead of being a plain rḫ nzwt, and he could carry out precise administrative duties associated with the production and the administration of royal centers. Thus Ḫ wns of Zawiyet el-Maytin was rḫ nzwt M¡-ḥ d̠ (nome XVI of Upper Egypt) as well as sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’, ḥ q¡ ḥ wtʿ¡t ‘governor of a great ḥ wt’ and jmj-r wpt ‘overseer of ­commissions’.82 Earlier potentates of this very nome, like Nikaankh of Tehna, were also rḫ nzwt while being in charge of local centers and agricultural exploitations of the crown (jmj-r pr n ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, jmj-r nwwt m¡wt), but lacked any further reference to the nome and its management (like, say, rḫ nzwt M¡-ḥ d̠ or sšm t¡).83 It seems then that the title rḫ nzwt of a nome distinguished a local potentate by enhancing his dominant local position, perhaps over other simple local rḫ nzwt, in the same way as the 6th dynasty title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ ‘great chief’ of a nome distinguished a specific potentate over simple local ḥ rjw-tp ‘chiefs’. This raises the question about whether true provincial governors existed or not. The provincial decorated tombs known from this period show a plurality of titles probably related to specific activities carried out by the potentates buried in them. While some such titles suggest a concern with a given territory (sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’), in other instances the carrying out of missions (for the king) is stressed, as in the case of jmj-r wpt ‘overseer of commissions’. More precise titles concern specific kinds of buildings, people, and domains, like the direction of the agricultural centers of the crown (ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t ‘governor of a great ḥ wt’, jmj-r nwwt m¡wt ‘overseer of the new agricultural domains’), of workers ( jmj-r nzwtjw ‘overseer of the nzwtjw workers’), and of forts ( jmj-r swnw/mnnw ‘overseer of towers/fortresses’). Keeping in mind that many, if not all of these different titles were usually held by the same individual, it must be admitted that what made up a ‘provincial governor’ was the addition of several responsibilities, with combinations rather variable depending on the place and the individual, and that not a single specific title conveyed the precise meaning of ‘provincial governor’. Such a situation is reminiscent of that of the 4th dynasty, when Ḫ wfw-ʿnḫ of Elephantine was sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’, but also jmj-r ¡bw ‘overseer of Elephantine’ and rḫ nzwt.84

  Piacentini, Zawiet el-Mayetin, 49–50.   Urk. I 24–29. 84  Habachi, WZKM 54 (1957): 57–64, figs. 1–2, pl. 1–2. 82 83

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While the evidence is rather scanty and limited to a restricted set of provinces, all of them among nomes IX–XX of Upper and Middle Egypt, it seems that no single title expressed the notion of ‘provincial governor’. More probably, local potentates were chosen and assigned specific administrative functions (ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, jmj-r nwwt m¡wt, jmj-r nzwtjw, jmj-r swnw/mnnw), while other titles simply recognized their local high status and, consequently, their capacity to behave as representatives of the crown, able to carry out the missions ordered by the king. So in some cases their local leadership was emphasized (sšm t¡), while in others it was their closeness to the king (rḫ nzwt) or their capacity to carry out a mission (jmj-r wpt). It might then be safer to conclude that no true system of governorship existed at this time and that only specific local individuals of high status, quite probably issued from the dominant families, were selected to act as intermediaries on behalf of the king. Only in some rare cases were they authorized to build decorated tombs, probably as an exceptional privilege reserved for potentates who came from areas with a long tradition of service to the crown or enjoying a particularly favored relationship with the king, like the royal decree in Ia-ib of Bersheh’s tomb shows. It is not surprising then that these tombs were located again in the area of Hemmamiya/El-Hawawish (where Nzwt-nfr was already active during the 4th dynasty), the area of the XV–XVI nomes and the area just south of Memphis and close to the Fayum, i.e., the very same regions that enjoyed, sometimes in a distant past, a close relation with the monarchy. This would explain why no ‘provincial governor’ is mentioned in the decree of Neferirkara at Abydos (only rḫ nzwt) and why the decree of Reneferef at Bersheh shows precisely the assignment of high titles to a local potentate by the king to be an exceptional privilege, apt to be proudly recorded at the entrance to his tomb. In this light, becoming a high status local potentate appears to be a complex matter, involving not only noble birth, but also some kind of more or less regular attendance at the court, the accomplishment of missions for the king, perhaps even marriage to women of royal origin. In short, the kind of strategy attested to in later biographies, like that of Middle Kingdom nomarch Khnumhotep II of Beni Hasan.85

85  A.B. Lloyd, “The Great Inscription of Khnumhotpe II at Beni Hassan,” in Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths (EES Occasional Publication 8), ed. A.B. Lloyd (London, 1992), 21–36. See also D. Franke, “The Career



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The favor of the king was doubtless essential in order to promote or destroy a career, thus giving the sovereign the means to interfere in local matters, to arbitrate between competing factions, while ­recruiting personnel for the administration and strengthening the links (and the feeling of mutual common interests) between the provincial world and the court. The royal donations of land to the local temples thus appear less acts of pure piety than strategies intended to reinforce ties with powerful local families, as in the case of Nikaankh of Tehna. The occasional use of the title z¡/z¡t nzwt ‘son/daughter of the king’ in the provinces points to another aspect of such a relationship, not exempted from tensions, as in the case of the consistent erasure of the titles z¡ nzwt and z¡t nzwt from the tomb A2 at Hemmamiya.86 As for control of the access to the deserts and to foreign lands, it continued to be an important concern for the administration, judging from some exceptional titles. Some seal impressions found at Elephantine show the presence of local authorities involved in military, managerial, and scribal activities. Thus, while an anonymous official was jmj-r ¡bw ‘overseer of Elephantine’ in Userkaf ’s reign, another one was jmj-r mšʿ ‘overseer of the army’ under Menkauhor, and a third one overseer of scribes, documents, and sealed acts at the service of ­Djedkara-Isesi.87 What may be inferred from this evidence is some kind of administrative specialization with regard to the situation prevailing in the previous dynasty, when Ḫ wfw-ʿnḫ accumulated military, administrative, and managerial responsibilities as nfr ‘recruit’, sšm t¡ ‘leader of the land’, jmj-r ¡bw ‘overseer of Elephantine’, and jrj ḫ t pr-ʿ¡ ‘(official) in charge of the goods/matters of the palace’.88 Similar concerns appear in the titles of Nḫ t-z¡s, whose administrative tasks included the control of the limits of the valley (jmj-r t̠nw), the administration of agricultural areas subject to potential flooding (ʿd̠mr grgt, ʿd̠-mr grgt mḥ tt šmʿjj(t)), the control of Farafra oasis ( jmj-r T¡-jḥ w ‘overseer of Farafra’), and involvement in agricultural matters (z¡b nḫ t-ḫ rw ‘strong of voice of the central administration’).89 Dmd̠ of Khnumhotep III of Beni Hasan and the So-called ‘Decline of the Nomarchs’,” in Middle Kingdom Studies, ed. S. Quirke (New Malden, 1991), 51–67. 86  A. El-Khouli and N. Kanawati, The Old Kingdom Tombs of El-Hammamiya (ACE Reports 2; Sydney, 1990), 17–18; H.G. Fischer, Egyptian Women of the Old Kingdom and of the Heracleopolitan Period (New York, 2000), 47–48. 87  E.-M. Engel, “Title,” ASAE 83 (2009): 371, fig. 6 [1–3]. 88  Habachi, “Title,” 57–64, fig. 1–2, pl. 1–2. 89  H.G. Fischer, “Title,” JNES 16 (1957): 226; E. Edel, “Title,” ZÄS 81 (1966): 67.

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was jmj-r pd̠t ‘overseer of the land of the bow’, jmj-r mnnw nzwt ‘overseer of the king’s fortresses’, jmj-r nmjw ‘overseer of transport boats’, ḫ rp nrw jḥ w ‘director of herdsmen of cattle’, and ḥ q¡ nzwt ‘governor of the king’.90 These titles are reminiscent of those of K¡-ʿpr, another official of the early 5th dynasty buried at Abusir,91 who was in charge of cattle (mnjw z¡b(w)t ‘herdsman of the dappled cattle’, zš mr(w) z¡b(w) t ‘scribe of the pasture lands of the dappled cattle’), displayed military titles (nfr ‘recruit’, ḫ rp tm¡tjw nb(w) ‘director of all the bowcase bearers’, jmj-r mšʿ ‘overseer of the army’), and organized troops to the Sinai area (zš mšʿ nzwt m Wnt m Zrr Tp¡ m Jd¡ ḫ tjw-(m)fk¡t ḫ ¡swt jmntt j¡btt ‘scribe of the army of the king in [the fortified encampments?] of Wenet, Serer, Tepa, and Ida, in the Terraces of Turquoise and in the western and eastern foreign lands’). Logistic bases were in fact essential in order to organize expeditions to the mining areas of Sinai and abroad and Elephantine was not the only one. Inscriptions found at Ayn Sukhna reveal that this Red Sea port was active under the reign of Isesi,92 a pharaoh whose agent in foreign lands, Werdjededba, was still celebrated in inscriptions of the 6th dynasty.93 However, no specific title conveyed the meaning of ‘governor of a border area’; rather the combination of specific titles related to precise tasks and geographical areas expressed the nature of the missions carried out by an official. In any case, the local presence of provincial administrators was confined only to some provinces in Middle Egypt (nomes 9, 10, 15, 16, and 20, roughly from Akhmim in the south to the Fayum in the north), but not simultaneously. Whereas the dates of their monuments continues to be a matter of discussion, it seems that the earlier authorities, from the first half of the 5th dynasty, are attested in nomes 9 (K¡(.j)-m-nfrt of El-Hagarsa), 10 (K¡(.j)-ḫ nt of Hammamiya), 16 ( J  ʿ-jb and Nj-ʿnḫ 90  H.G. Fischer, “Two New Titles of the Old Kingdom,” in Aegyptus museis rediviva: Miscellanea in honorem Hermanni de Meulenaere, ed. L. Limme, J. Strybol (Brussels, 1993), 91–95, 100. 91   PM III2 501; M. Bárta, Abusir V: The Cemeteries at Abusir South I (Prague, 2001), 143–91, pl. 47–76, 86–88. 92   P. Tallet, “Prendre la mer à Ayn Soukhna au temps du roi Isési,” BSFE 177–178 (2010): 18–22. 93   Urk. I 131 = Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 332; M. Marcolin, “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche e geografiche,” 53. As for the expeditions of Sahure to Sinai and Punt, cf. Urk. I 246, as well as T. el-Awady, Sahure—The Pyramid Causeway: History and Decoration Program in the Old Kingdom (Abusir XVI; Prague, 2009).



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Nmtj of Bersheh, Nj-k¡-ʿnḫ and Jn-k¡.f of Tehna), and 20 (Nn-ḫ ft-k¡ of Deshasha). Only in exceptional cases is a true dynasty of rulers, ­spreading over several generations, discernible, as in the case of Hammamiya in the first half of the dynasty; quite probably the presence there of the title z¡(t) nzwt, as well as the former authority exerted in the nome during the 4th dynasty by officials buried at Memphis, like Nfr-nzwt and his son Nfr-m¡ʿt, point to some kind of special links of this area with the crown. Later on, during the second half of the 5th dynasty, some of these cemeteries lost their prominence in favor of other sites in their close vicinity. Thus Hammamiya (nome 10) was replaced by neighboring El-Hawawish and Hagarsa (nome 9), whereas Tehna gave way to Zawiyet el-Maiyitin (nome 16) and Sheikh Said and Bersheh94 (nome 15). These changes are difficult to interpret: did some powerful families with supra-provincial authority simply change their burial place from one location to another? Or did new families and centers of power arise because of political factors and/or changes in the balance of power between some factions of the nobility and the crown? The second option seems more plausible, especially when judging the changes in the names used by the dominant families of each site.95 The absence of true dynasties on the long run, the scarcity of decorated tombs, and the changes of the location of the main cemeteries over time within relatively restricted regions contrast with the situation prevailing in the 6th dynasty. When considering these characteristics together, they suggest that the visibility of the local potentates in terms of high culture goods (decorated tombs, statues, inscribed monuments, precious vessels, etc.) was restricted and strictly controlled by the king. The translation of this (just?) cultural particularity in political terms is not deprived of risks but, nevertheless, probably means that the king felt free to interfere in local matters by promoting, co-opting, or rejecting local families, by supporting and later letting aside provincial centers, in an environment where royal favor appears to be short-lived and where only a tiny minority of provincial potentates were honored with the possibility of building a decorated tomb.

94   To Jʿ-jb we must add the tomb (15N56/1) of Nj-ʿnḫ -nmtj and his wife Nj-ʿnḫ Ḥ wt-Ḥ r: M. de Meyer, MDAIK 65 (2009), 397; Idem, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital?” in Old Kingdom, New Perspectives: Egyptian Art and Archaeology 2750–2150 BC, ed. N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick (Oxford, 2011), 43–45. 95  See also de Meyer, “Two cemeteries for one provincial capital?” 42–49.

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Such a concentration of sites in Middle Egypt contrasts sharply with the lack of similar conditions in the eight southernmost provinces of the kingdom (with the exception of Elephantine), a traditional focus of royal presence since the beginning of the Old Kingdom. Bearing in mind that some 5th dynasty titles refer precisely to the middle provinces of Egypt (jmj-r k¡(w)t m zp¡wt ḥ rjwt-jb Šmʿw ‘overseer of works in the middle provinces of Upper Egypt’, jmj-r zp¡wt ḥ rjwt-jb Šmʿw ‘overseer of the middle provinces of Upper Egypt’) and that the titles of many administrators of this area concern royal agricultural/ administrative centers (ḥ wwt-ʿ¡t), towers, and fortresses closely related to nzwtjw workers and recently founded agricultural domains (nwwt m¡wt), it seems rather plausible that improving the agricultural production and revenue from this area necessarily required the collaboration of the local elite. Judging from the royal annals and decrees of this period, it seems as if the royal agricultural organization of Lower Egypt during the 4th dynasty later spread into Middle Egypt during the 5th and local temples administered important tracts of land. The development of the Fayum area and its extensive fertile soils fits well within this picture and could explain why at that time Deshasha became a visible focus of provincial power, thus continuing a long tradition which began with late 3rd dynasty ʿ¡-¡ḫ tj (nḫ t-ḫ rw Mdnjt ‘strong of voice of the 22nd nome of Upper Egypt’),96 and continued in the 4th dynasty (jmj-r šnd̠ nb n Š-rsj ‘overseer of every acacia of the Southern Lake’)97 and with K¡-wd̠-ʿnḫ (jmj-r k¡(w)t Nʿrt-ḫ ntt Mdnjt ‘overseer of works in nomes XX and XXII of Upper Egypt’).98 Another region which seems to have experienced a similar policy is the area of the western branch of the Nile in the Delta, comprised of the nomes 1–3 of Lower Egypt, where Dw¡-Rʿ was jmj-r Ḥ wt-jḥ wt ‘overseer of the Ḥ wt-of-the-cow’, jmj-r Jmnt ‘overseer of nome 3 of Lower Egypt’, as well as ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t ‘governor of a great ḥ wt’, and jmj-r nzwtjw ‘overseer of the nzwtjw workers’,99 while some other titles refer to the management of manpower ( jmj-r z¡w Šmʿw ‘overseer of the phyles of Upper Egypt’, wr 10 Šmʿw ‘great of tens of Upper Egypt’). As for K¡-ḫ r-Ptḥ :Ftk-t¡, he was overseer of nomes 1 and 2 of Lower   PM III2 500.  Goedicke, Re-used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht, 149–50 [92].   98   P.E. Newberry, “The tree of the Herakleopolite nome,” ZÄS 50 (1912): 79 n. 2.   99   PM III2 878, 894.   96   97



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Egypt and overseer of the new agricultural domains (nwwt m¡wt) of the pyramid of king Djedkara-Isesi.100 As the nome of Ḥ wt-jḥ wt seems to have provided cattle for the Memphite area, the titles of officials like Dw¡-Rʿ and K¡-ḫ r-Ptḥ :Ftk-t¡ suggest a close relationship between production areas in the western Delta and the capital, thus justifying the appointing of specific officials to this area.101 Compared to the situation prevailing in Middle Egypt, agricultural expansion seems to lie behind the administrative organization of specific areas, a policy first attested in Metjen’s titles during the 4th dynasty. In this context, some titles expressed an overall concern with regional administration that extended beyond Middle Egypt. Thus supra-provincial administrators are known from both Lower (Wsrk¡.f-ʿnḫ was jmj-r zp¡wt T¡-Mḥ w m gswj-pr ‘overseer of the provinces of Lower Egypt in its two sections’) and Upper Egypt (where K¡-pwPtḥ was jmj-r zp¡(w)t Šmʿw ‘overseer of the provinces of Upper Egypt’, jmj-r jḫ t msw nzwt m zp¡wt Šmʿw ‘overseer of the property of the royal children in the provinces of Upper Egypt’).102 In the case of the former, Wsr-k¡.f-ʿnḫ bore other titles related to the Delta, like jmj-r gswj-pr ‘overseer of the two sections (of the Delta)’103 and jmj-r Ḥ wtjḥ wt ‘overseer of the Ḥ wt-of-the-cow (the later capital of nome 3 of Lower Egypt)’, as well as titles relating to the control of border areas and works and property of the king.104 But, quite significantly, he also was jmj-r ḥ wwt-nt̠r ‘overseer of the temples’, a title probably related to the active policy of land donations to the sanctuaries, mainly in the Delta, put into effect by 5th dynasty kings and recorded in the royal annals. In any case, temples thus appear to be structuring elements in the landscape of Lower Egypt, under the control of the agents of the crown and, like their counterparts in Upper Egypt, also subject to royal intervention. Nevertheless, the exceptional nature of these titles again suggests that there was no truly, stable overall ‘Lower Egyptian’   PM III2 166–167, 179, 201.   Cagle, The Spatial Structure of Kom el-Hisn, passim; Moreno García, “La gestion des aires marginales,” 58–60. 102   PM III2 693. 103  On the geographical meaning of gs-pr, see Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (V): gs-pr,” 116–31. 104  D. Franke, “Anch-Userkaf und das Nildelta: Statue Frankfurt/M. Liebieghaus 1629,” in Es werde niedergelegt als Schriftstück: Festschrift für Hartwig Altenmüller zum 65. Geburtstag (SAK Beiheft 9), ed. N. Kloth, K. Martin, and E. Pardey (Hamburg, 2003), 117–32. 100 101

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or ‘Upper Egyptian’ administration, like that of 6th dynasty times, but rather exceptional officials charged with specific tasks. In this light, K¡-pw-Ptḥ ’s title jmj-r jḫ t msw nzwt m zp¡wt Šmʿw ‘overseer of the property of the royal ­children in the provinces of Upper Egypt’ may shed light on the politics followed in Upper Egypt, particularly when considering the presence of ‘king’s sons’ in the nome of Hemmamiya. The later Onomastica reveal that the term ms(w) nzwt ‘child(ren) of the king’ designated the true princes, carefully distinguished from a category of high courtiers individually called s¡ nswt ‘son of the king’.105 Even if we know that princes possessed domains in both Upper and Lower Egypt in Old Kingdom times, like Khefre’s son Nj-k¡w-Rʿ,106 it cannot be ruled out that K¡-pw-Ptḥ ’s title concerns the goods of some provincial potentates very closely related to the king, so that they received the title of ‘king’s son’, as in the case of the z¡ nzwt K¡(.j)-ḫ nt and his wife, the z¡t nzwt Jwfj, buried in tomb A2 at Hemmamiya.107 In any case the connections of the court with the region of the Middle Egypt is further corroborated by the royal decrees at Abydos and Bersheh and by the inscriptions in Nj-k¡-ʿnḫ ’s tomb at Tehna. Closely related to the preceding remarks is the question of the early appearance of officials bearing the title jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’ in about the middle of the 5th dynasty. One of them is the vizier K¡j, who perhaps lived during the reign of Nyuserra.108 Another one, an apparently rather humble official recently discovered at Abusir, Jj-mrjj, bears the titles of jmj-r Šmʿw, rḫ nzwt and jmj-r b(w) jj 105  A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica (London, 1947), I, 14*–20*. Msw nsw appears listed just after the king, the queen, the king’s wife, and the king’s mother, and is followed by the jrj-pʿt, the vizier, the ‘Unique Friend’, and only then by the s¡ nsw smsw ‘elder son of the king’. 106   Urk. I 16–17. See also the case of another official of the 5th dinasty, Nikare, who was involved in the administration of the Delta ( jmj-r Ḥ wt-jḥ wt) and of swampy areas ( jmj-r pḥ w nb) and who also held the title of jmj-r prw msw nzwt m prwj ‘overseer of the domains of the royal children in the Double Domain’: G. Andreu, “La fausseporte of Nykarê, Cleveland Museum of Art 64.91,” in Études sur l’Ancien Empire et la nécropole de Saqqâra dédiées à Jean-Philippe Lauer (Orientalia Monspeliensia 9), ed. C. Berger and B. Mathieu (Montpellier, 1997), 21–30; H.G. Fischer, “Quelques particuliers enterrés à Saqqâra,” in Études sur l’Ancien Empire et la nécropole de Saqqâra dédiées à Jean-Philippe Lauer (Orientalia Monspeliensia 9), ed. C. Berger and B. Mathieu (Montpellier, 1997), 178–79, 186–87. Cf. also Baud, Famille royale et pouvoir I, 347–48. 107  El-Khouli and Kanawati, The Old Kingdom Tombs of El-Hammamiya, 17–18; Fischer, Egyptian Women of the Old Kingdom and of the Heracleopolitan Period, 47–48. 108   PM III2 479.



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‘overseer of the arrival place (?)’.109 The fact that some graffiti from his tomb record the element Šmʿw, even under the form ḥ ¡tj Šmʿw ‘the principal of the South’, has cast some doubt about its interpretation as ‘Upper Egypt’ or rather ‘the south(ern area of Abusir)’. About the latter part of the dynasty, during the reigns of Djedkara and Unas, three more jmj-r Šmʿw are attested in the epigraphic record: Ptḥ -špss ‘junior’ II,110 Rʿ-špss,111 and ¡ḫ t-ḥ tp,112 the latter two of whom were also viziers, like K¡j. This implies that, as stated before, some kind of overall supervision of the nomes became an increasing concern for the central administration during the 5th dynasty, perhaps with the area of Middle Egypt being the object of specific preferential interventions, as the titles of K¡-pw-Ptḥ suggest. Another implication is that the responsibility of jmj-r Šmʿw very often fell on viziers based in the capital. In other words, no provincial vizier is attested. Latter on, during the 6th dynasty, the same pattern emerges, where the notion of ‘provincial vizier’ simply implies that a dignitary of provincial origin was raised to the rank of vizier (in Memphis) and later buried in a nome, not that two viziers were appointed simultaneously, one residing in the capital and the other one in a province and being specialized in the administration of the nomes of Upper Egypt. In any case, the (as yet unattested) possibility of the simultaneous existence of overseers of Upper Egypt and of ‘provincial viziers’ responsible only for the nomes of Upper Egypt seems somewhat redundant, whereas the available evidence provides no firm support for the existence of such specialized viziers. Weni of Abydos, for instance, was a vizier, but his activities on behalf of the king in Upper Egypt are described in his biography as concomitant with his position of jmj-r Šmʿw. From these considerations, it is possible to define some particularities of the provincial organization during the 5th dynasty. First of all, it seems that a broad region, including the Delta and most of Middle Egypt north of Abydos, was the object of the crown’s preferential intervention and that it necessarily required the support of powerful local families, whose status was enhanced by the exceptional authorization

109   Bárta, Coppens, Vymazalová, et al., Tomb of Hetepi (AS 20), Tombs AS 33–35 and AS 50–53, 184–204. 110  M. Bárta, “The mastaba of Ptahshepses Junior II at Abusir,” ÄuL 10 (2000): 45–66. 111   PM III2 494–96. 112   PM III2 599–600.

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to build decorated tombs. The importance of this area is suggested by the occasional mention of supra-regional authorities whose control was exerted precisely over the ‘middle provinces’. Secondly, the aim of the crown appears to have been to improve the agricultural production of this area, sparsely populated but abundant in land and livestock resources. It seems as if the royal efforts to organize the territory and exploit the resources of the Delta during the 4th dynasty were later transferred to the region including 9th-20th nomes of Upper Egypt during the 5th. The importance of temples (endowed with fields) and the crown’s agricultural centers (ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, ḥ wt, swnw, nwt m¡wt) in this area seems to confirm such view. Thirdly, control of the border areas was also a concern for the Pharaoh, but no clear administrative pattern of regular functions is discernible. In this respect, no true title conveying the notion of ‘provincial governor’ existed. Rather prominent individuals accumulated specific titles relating to precise responsibilities, thus displaying their preeminent role as local representatives of the king, while the extent of their authority and the degree of their integration within the palatial sphere were expressed by means of these titles as well as by means of courtly and rank titles; in some cases the title rḫ nzwt was enough to convey these notions, as the decree of Neferirkare at Abydos shows, hence the variability from one province to another. To put it another way, what really made a ‘provincial governor’ was not the use of a specific title, but the accumulation of different titles expressing the fulfilment of specific tasks and the favor bestowed by the king. Nevertheless, the Delta and the seven southernmost provinces of Upper Egypt depart from this model. In the case of the former area, the near total absence of decorated tombs suggests that the local administrators were buried in the Memphite cemeteries and that this area was directly controlled from Memphis. The papyri of Neferirkara at Abusir reveal that several administrators of Lower Egypt were closely linked to the king and his funerary temple. With regard to nomes 1–7 of Upper Egypt, the lack of provincial governors there or of any mention of overseers of royal agricultural centers (ḥ wwt-ʿ¡t, nwwt m¡wt, swnw, ḥ wt) may indicate a greater autonomy as well as the existence of powerful families who succeeded in limiting in some way the local influence of the crown, perhaps because of the close control they exerted over the local temples, as later examples from Coptos, Akhmim, and Elkab show, when the weight of such sanctuaries was concomitant with the rarity (or complete absence) of



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agricultural installations of the crown like the ḥ wt.113 Nevertheless, the fact that Elephantine was the seat of officials and administrators during this period also shows that the crown had the capacity to intervene in the distant south, while the apparent absence of representatives of the king in the area between Edfu and Abydos probably derives from specific local circumstances. The 6th Dynasty and Its Aftermath The end of the 5th and the beginning of the 6th dynasties was apparently a period of change in the balance of power amongs the elites of the kingdom, a circumstance which left its mark both on the way provincial magnates presented themselves and on the structure of the local administration.114 Nevertheless, such changes should not be overestimated. They can be more accurately interpreted in terms of a greater visibility of the local representatives of the crown, and not as the consequence of a sudden development in provincial administrative structures. This was nothing truly new, as similar cycles of enhancement and withdrawal in the way local elites (re)presented themselves are also well known from previous periods in pharaonic history, as seen above. Even the royal presence in the nomes through cultic (e.g., the ḥ wt-k¡ chapels) and administrative centers (like the ḥ wt), as well as through supra-regional authorities (like the jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’), continued during this long period traditionally interpreted as one of a monarchy declining in the face of vigorous local leaders. Therefore, continuity probably best describes an administrative environment in which the true novelty was that local elites had become more visible in the epigraphic and archaeological record thanks to their wide use of rank titles and material expressions of palatial culture (decorated tombs, inscribed objects, high quality

113  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 238–241; Moreno García, “The State and The Organization of the Rural Landscape,” 321–23. 114  Kanawati, Akhmim in the Old Kingdom, 47–89; Kanawati, Conspiracies in the Egyptian Palace, Unis to Pepy I (London, 2003); Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 241–66; Moreno García, “Review of N. Kanawati, Mahmud Abder-Raziq, The Teti Cemetery at Saqqara. Volume VI: The Tomb of Nikauisesi (The Australian Centre for Egyptology: Reports 14; Warminster 2000),” BiOr 59 (2002): 509–20; Moreno García, “The State and the Organization of the Rural Landscape,” 323–27.

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craft production), previously reserved to court officials, with only few exceptions. In other words, the diffusion within the provincial world of the mechanisms of formal recognition typical of the court could simply mean that the crown had deepened its involvement in local affairs. And, as in previous periods of Egyptian history, such a policy was only ­possible with the collaboration of local potentates and their incorporation into the administrative structure of the kingdom.115 In this respect, it is hardly surprising that the expansion of the crown’s agricultural centers into new areas, like southernmost Egypt, was accompanied by the recognition and the enhancement of the status of local leaders, including their association with the royal funerary temples, their use of rank titles and decorated tombs, and their frequent mention as governors of the royal ḥ wt centers. The factors underlying such a policy thus seem to be principally political, probably related to readjustments among the ruling elite, when the rise to power of the 6th dynasty kings took place in a harsh political environment. Usurpation, trials of queens, destitution of high officials, an astonishingly quick circulation of dignitaries in certain key positions, even regicide, attest to the difficulties encountered by Teti and Pepi I. Conversely, provincial families began playing a prominent official role, hardly encountered before, including marriages with members of the royal family (when the royal harem/private quarters of the palace, jpt, became an important institution), access to the highest positions within the royal administration, and the consolidation of true local dynasties displaying complex strategies of power in order to preserve their local predominance while also remaining influential at the royal court.116 Also noteworthy is the appearance of new provincial  Moreno García, “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle de l’Ancien et du Moyen Empire,” 107–11; Moreno García, “La gestion sociale de la mémoire,” 221–32; Moreno García, “Introduction. Élites et États tributaires. Le cas de l’Égypte pharaonique,” 11–50. 116  Moreno García, “Review of N. Kanawati, Mahmud Abder-Raziq”, 509–20; Moreno García, “Temples, administration provinciale et élites locales en HauteÉgypte: La contribution des inscriptions rupestres pharaoniques de l’Ancien Empire,” in Séhel entre Égypte et Nubie: Inscriptions rupestres et graffiti de l’époque pharaonique (Orientalia Monspeliensa 14), ed. A. Gasse and V. Rondot (Montpellier, 2004), 7–22; Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir: Elkab et El-Hawawish sous la VIe dynastie,” RdÉ 56 (2005): 95–128; N. Kanawati, “Interrelation of the capital and the provinces in the Sixth Dynasty,” BACE 15 (2004): 51–62; Kanawati, “The Vizier Nebet and the Royal Women of the Sixth Dynasty,” in Thebes and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Kent R. Weeks (CASAE 41), ed. Z. Hawass and S. Ikram (Cairo, 2010), 115–25. The number of known queens of pharaoh Pepy I, 115



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centers in close proximity to areas which had for centuries enjoyed a close relationship with the crown. El-Hawawish and Qasr el-Sayed (bordering the Thinite area), Sharuna, Meir, Siut, and Deir el-Gebrawy (north and south, respectively, of the traditionally influential XV–XVI nomes) illustrate this tendency. Perhaps this phenomenon should not be interpreted exclusively in terms of the growing importance of new prosperous areas, but also as further evidence of a strategy seeking to extend the pharaohs’ power basis. The fact of diversifying the pool from which senior officials could be recruited helped avoid the danger of relying only on a restricted circle of traditionally powerful provincial families.117 Something similar happened in courtly circles, when the incorporation of high officials of the nomes or the granting of high positions to men of unknown background probably weakened the influence of the traditionally powerful memphite families or the priesthood of Re.118 So the quick circulation of many dignitaries in key administrative positions at Memphis can be compared to the geographically broad circulation (but temporally limited exercise) of certain high positions in the provinces, especially those of vizier and overseer of Upper Egypt. It is tempting to see in this policy a some of them of provincial origin, has been steadly increasing thanks to new archaeological discoveries: C. Berger-El Naggar and M.-N. Fraisse, “Béhénou, ‘aimée de Pépy’, une nouvelle reine d’Égypte,” BIFAO 108 (2008): 1–27; A. Labrousse, “Huit épouses du roi Pépy Ier,” in Egyptian Culture and Society. Studies in Honor of Naguib Kanawati (ASAE Supplément, Cahier 38), ed. A. Woods, A. McFarlane, and S. Binder (Cairo, 2010), vol. I, 297–314. R. Bussmann, “Der Kult für die Königsmutter Anchenes-Merire I. im Tempel des Chontamenti: Zwei unpublizierte Türstürze der 6. Dynastie aus Abydos,” SAK 39 (2010): 101–19, pl. 11–12, suggests that queen Iput I, mother of Pepy I, could have been from Coptos, while H. Goedicke, “A Cult Inventory of the Eighth Dynasty from Coptos (Cairo JE 43290),” MDAIK 50 (1994): 82 n. 74, has suggested Ahkmim as her birthplace, if her name Jpwt is to be interpreted as nisbe of Jpw ‘Akhmim’. As for queen Nedjeftet, an anthroponym formed with the name of nomes 13–14 of Upper Egypt, cf. V. Dobrev and J. Leclant, “Une nouvelle reine identifiée à Saqqara Sud,” BIFAO 97 (1997): 149–56. 117   Tomb complexes in the Memphite area show the continuity of important families of high dignitaries over several generations, like the Senedjemib, the Akhethotep/ Ptahhotep, and Qar families (E. Brovarski, The Senedjemib Complex: The Mastabas of Senedjemib Inti (G 2370), Khnumenti (G 2374) and Senedjemib Mehi (G 2378) (Boston, 2002); N. de G. Davies, The Mastaba of Ptahhetep and Akhethetep, 2 vols. (London, 1901); M. Bárta et al., Tomb Complex of the Vizier Qar, His Sons Qar Junior and Senedjemib, and Iykai (Abusir South 2; Abusir 13; Prague, 2009). Such a tendency continued after the collapse of the centralized monarchy: D.P. Silverman, “Non-Royal Burials in the Teti Pyramid Cemetery and the Early Twelfth Dynasty,” in Archaism and Innovation: Studies in the Culture of Middle Kingdom Egypt, ed. D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson, and J. Wegner (Philadelphia, 2009), 47–101. 118  Kanawati, Conspiracies, passim.

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mechanism seeking to limit the concentration of too much power in the hands of individuals or localities over a long period of time. In short, politics seem to have played a crucial role in the advent of the 6th dynasty, but the details are frustratingly scarce. Having all these considerations in mind, one should be aware of the limits of the textual and archaeological information when dealing with the provincial administration of this period.119 Similar reservations should be extended to some traditional interpretations routinely accepted in egyptological literature, as when the holders of the new title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ ‘great chiefs’ are equated to ‘provincial governors’ or when the presence of viziers in the nomes is interpreted as the existence of viziers of the nomes. Therefore, I shall devote the following pages to the study of what can be reasonably inferred from the administrative titles and documents of this period; then I shall turn to the delicate questions of the nature and scope of the nomarchal authority before concluding with an analysis of the role played by individuals with supra-provincial interests. What We Know. The Central Administration and the Management of the Nomes: Overseers of Upper Egypt, Central Bureaux, and Networks of Ḥ wt and Temples The beginning of the 6th dynasty was a period of important changes in the territorial organization of the kingdom. ‘Provincial governors’ (ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ n zp¡t ‘great chief of the nome’) were appointed in many provinces of Upper Egypt, whereas the ancient agricultural centers of the crown in the nomes (swnw, ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, grgt, nwt m¡wt) almost completely disappeared and were replaced by the ubiquitous ḥ wt. Although ḥ wt appears from an early date in the epigraphic record, its role seems rather secondary when compared to other royal agricultural and administrative centers, like the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t until the end of the 5th dynasty. Afterwards the situation changed, when the title ḥ q¡ ḥ wt ‘governor of a ḥ wt’ became commonly attested in most of the Upper Egyptian nomes. In fact, ḥ wt is the only royal agricultural center which is mentioned in the monuments of the southernmost nomes of Upper

119   Cf. the case of Siut, where the tombs of the 6th dynasty have disappeared and only sketches by early 19th-century travellers provide some information about them: J. Kahl, Ancient Asyut: The First Synthesis after 300 Years of Research (Wiesbaden, 2007).



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Egypt, where no mention of swnw, ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, or grgt is known.120 The extent and increase of the ḥ wt in the Egyptian rural landscape is furthermore corroborated by the fact that nearly ninety percent of the about two hundred ḥ q¡ ḥ wt known from third millennium sources lived between the 6th dynasty and the end of the third millennium. While their geographical distribution in Upper and Lower Egypt appears to be quite homogeneous, one important difference nevertheless emerges: Upper Egyptian ḥ q¡w ḥ wt were buried in the provinces where they exercised their administrative functions, but the majority of their Lower Egyptian colleagues are attested only in the Memphite necropolis. This circumstance, coupled with the absence of ḥ rjw-tp ʿ¡ n zp¡t ‘great chiefs of the nome’ and of counterparts of the jmjw-r Šmʿw ‘overseers of Upper Egypt’ in Lower Egypt (the only exception is Ishti-Tjeti, a jmj[-r] zp¡wt T¡-Mḥ w ‘overseer of the provinces of Lower Egypt’ of the late 6th dynasty buried in Memphis), reinforces the idea that the Delta was directly administered from Memphis.121 At a provincial level, the apparent homogeneity of Upper Egypt should also be tempered. For instance, no ḥ q¡ ḥ wt is known from Coptos or El-Hawawish (but three are mentioned in other cemeteries of this nome, like Hagarsa and Gohaina),122 and only one at Elkab. These three localities are exceptional not only because of the scarcity (even complete absence) of ḥ q¡ ḥ wt—despite their rich epigraphic record—but also because temples happened to be the most powerful centers in their respective provinces, to the point of having probably prevented the foundation of ḥ wt, in sharp contrast with its frequent presence in the neighboring nomes. Another common feature of these localities is that true dynasties of overseers of priests succeeded in controlling the local temples over the cours of six, even 120  Exceptions: a ḥ wt-ʿ¡t is apparently mentioned in a 4th dynasty account from Gebelein (pGebelein III rto: P. Posener-Kriéger and Sara Demichelis, I papiri di Gebelein Scavi G. Farina 1935—[Turin, 2004], pl. 20); and a jmj-r nwwt m¡wt Nḫ n ‘overseer of the new agricultural domains of the 3rd nome of Upper Egypt’ is documented in a graffito from Qasr el-Banat, in the Eastern Desert (Qasr el-Banat gr. n° 2: S. Redford and D.B. Redford, “Graffiti and petroglyphs old and new from the Eastern Desert,” JARCE 26 [1989]: 39, fig. 72–73). 121  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 241–66. 122  N. Kanawati, The Tombs of El-Hagarsa (ACE Reports 4; Sydney, 1993), vol. I, pl. 32–33; Y. El-Masri, “Recent Explorations in the Ninth Nome of Upper Egypt,” in Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century. Vol. I: Archaeology, ed. Z. Hawass (Cairo, 2002), 331–38; El-Masri, “Two Old Kingdom Tombs at Gohaina,” BACE 15 (2004): 89–106.

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eight ­generations, together with many other numerous ritual responsibilities. However, such incompatibility between temples and ḥ wt is hardly found in other Upper Egyptian provinces, as ḥ q¡ ḥ wt coexisted there with the overseers of the local sanctuaries and with other provincial ­administrators, and it was not rare for the same official to have accumulated these positions.123 Assuredly, the ḥ wt were important centers in the organization of the rural landscape. So were temples. The rich epigraphic corpus of royal decrees from the temple of Min, at Coptos, provide detailed insight into the foundation of agricultural domains and their impact on the neighboring peasant communities.124 First of all, the overseer of the sanctuary chose a tract of land in a flooded environment with the assistance of the scribes of the fields, he marked out the plots of land and named the domain and, finally, an administrative council was established in order to ensure the running of the fields. The labor force was provided by the peasants from the neighboring villages, whose chiefs were integrated within the council. The inscriptions mention that the domains were usually assigned to specialized processing centers whose main concern was the transformation of the agricultural produce into offerings which were later presented to the god. Other sources suggest that such cessions of land to the temples were not exclusive to Coptos, as the titles of several officials at Akhmim reveal that the disappearance of the agricultural centers of the crown towards the end of the 5th dynasty (nwt m¡wt, ḥ wt-ʿ¡t) was not followed by the foundation of ḥ wt during the 6th, as it was the rule in most of Upper Egypt, but by an increasing number of titles concerning the local temple of Min, its

123  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 252–65; Moreno García, “Temples, administration provinciale et élites locales en Haute-Égypte,” 7–22; Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir,” 95–128. The new discoveries in the 15th Upper Egyptian nome provide another example of a local division of tasks between officials buried in different cemeteries: while simple ḥ q¡w ḥ wt with no priestly titles were buried at Bersheh (at least three of them belonging to the same family), officials with higher titles (including court and priestly ones, as well as those of ḥ q¡ ḥ wt and jmj-r Šmʿw) were buried at Sheikh Said: de Meyer, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital?” 46–49. 124   J.C. Moreno García, “La population mrt: Une approche du problème de la servitude en Égypte au IIIe millénaire,” JEA 84 (1998): 71–83; Moreno García, in “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle de l’Ancien et du Moyen Empire,” 104, 114.



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treasure, and the control of fields and workers devoted to the provision of ‘divine offerings’.125 Nevertheless, temples were not only the beneficiaries of royal largesse, as they were also obligated to pay taxes and deliver certain goods (skins, precious metals, cloths, etc.), whereas royal chapels (ḥ wt-k¡) were built in them.126 In fact, temples and ḥ wt were part of a network of economic and productive centers spread all over the country, which were more or less dependent on the crown (depending on local particularities, as in the case of temples) and whose production was available for the crown’s officials in transit: “Orders have been brought to the governor(s) of the new localities, the companion(s), and the overseer(s) of priests to command that supplies be furnished from what is under the charge of each from every ḥ wt belonging to a processing center and from every temple without any exemption.”127 The role of ḥ wt as providers of supplies for the agents of the king is further mentioned in the inscriptions of Hatnub, which specify that equipment was delivered by the local ḥ wt to the teams of workers sent to the quarries, the organization of the expeditions by a ḥ wt overseer, and the close relationship between the ḥ wt and the agricultural domains nwt m¡wt128 (as in the autobiography of Herkhuf just quoted and a fragmentary inscription from the beginning of the 6th dynasty;129 Ibi, governor of Deir el-Gebrawi, states that fields of considerable extension—about 50 ha.—belonged to a ḥ wt130). Also, a hieratic record from Elephantine, dated to about 2000 B.C., mentions the deliveries of cereals, dates, and cattle made by the governor of a ḥ wt to several dignitaries, including a messenger who had arrived at Elephantine on a mission for the king, thus corroborating the practical functioning of

125  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 255–58; Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir,” 95–128. 126  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 164, 251–52. 127   Urk. I 131:4–6. 128  R. Anthes, Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub nach den Aufnahmen Georg Möllers (Leipzig, 1928), 18–19, 21–22, pl. 9, 11 [graffiti 1, 6]; Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 172–74. The recent discovery of the tombs of four 6th dynasty ḥ q¡w ḥ wt at Bersheh further supports the importance of these centres for providing the expeditions led to the quarries: M. de Meyer, MDAIK 65 (2009), 397; Idem, “Two Cemeteries for One Provincial Capital?” 46–49. Again, it should be borne in mind that a 4th dynasty bakery and a royal domain in this area were related to the exploitation of nearby quarries. 129   Urk. I 87:2. 130   Urk. I 144,11–145,3.

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the ḥ wt system, as in Herkhuf’s times.131 Finally, another contemporary early Middle Kingdom administrative document enumerates various kinds of textile items delivered to an overseer of the seal during his journey to the locality of Per-Ikhekh; he received them from a warehouse, a working center (ḫ nrt), and a locality or royal center named Ḥ wt-H̠ tjj ‘the ḥ wt of (king) Khety’.132 The importance of logistics probably underlies Weni’s description (ca. 2300 B.C.) of the preparations for a huge military expedition: “chiefs and governors of ḥ wt of Upper and Lower Egypt” appear hand in hand with “overseers of priests of Upper and Lower Egypt, and overseers of processing centers at the head of the troops of Upper and Lower Egypt, as well as of the ḥ wt and towns that they ruled.”133 In other words, the organization of a great army involved not only the recruitment of contingents on an (apparently) local basis, but also the participation of several categories of officials involved in providing supplies to messengers, workers, and dignitaries on the mission. This is probably why cattle-breeding centers, governors of ḥ wt in Upper and Lower Egypt, overseers of priests in Upper and Lower Egypt, and overseers of processing centers are mentioned as their duties included precisely in the management, stock, and delivery of agricultural and craft production. Not surprisingly, Weni boasts of his not having taken by force the provisions and equipment needed by the troops under his command: “no one seized the loaf or the sandals of a traveller, so that no one took cloth from any town, so that no one took a goat from anyone.” Similar concerns were also expressed by other leaders of expeditions, like Sabni of Aswan: “I never permitted that the sandal or bread of any man be stolen.”134 Finally, the fact that temples should provide personnel to state departments, which drew up lists of workers fit for service, is further corroborated by the royal decrees.135 It should also be noted that the Instruction of the Vizier, an early 18th dynasty text describing the administrative organization of the country in the Middle and even the late Old Kingdom, states that ḥ q¡w ḥ wt were directly answerable to the vizier.136 131   C. Von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII: Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit (Mainz am Rhein, 1996), 285–300. 132   W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner IV: Personnel Accounts of the Early Twelfth Dynasty (Boston, 1986), 14, pl. 14. 133   Urk. I 101–2. 134  L. Habachi, Sixteen Studies on Lower Nubia (Cairo, 1981), 19–22, fig. 5. 135   Urk. I 288–95; H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 128–47. 136  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 190–93.



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So the ḥ wt appears to be a crucial link in the geographical tax system of the Old Kingdom (an aspect recorded in later texts, like the Instructions of the Vizier): they were founded in almost every province, they acted as agricultural centers provided with fields, cattle, and workers, they were local warehouses where the agricultural production was stocked and delivered to the royal agents on a mission, and they formed (together with temples, crown domains, and processing installations), a network of centers which made it possible to collect taxes and mobilize the labor force of the country. The growing importance of the ḥ wt is also evident in the ideological representation of the Egyptian landscape when, from the beginning of the 6th dynasty, it appears together with nwt ‘locality’ in dual formulae. When the ḥ wt finally declined at the beginning of the second millennium, stereotypical formulae echoed the change, as the former formulae no longer reflected the totality of the inhabited areas with the old couple nwt/ḥ wt, but by another one, nwt/sp¡t ‘domain’. The correlation between pairs of concepts, mental landscapes, and territorial organization makes chronological changes in the pattern of concepts used a valuable indicator of the transformations of the rural landscape, although it must always be contrasted with the administrative record.137 The importance of agricultural activities stimulated by the state is also apparent in the development of new developments called nwt m¡wt ‘new locality’; the term has been misleadingly interpreted as evidence for the foundation of new cities but, in fact, refers to new agricultural domains, as in decree Coptos D. These domains were attached to temples, ḥ wt, pyramids, etc., and were quite probably the precedent of the later domains (jw) m¡w, founded in riverside areas. While the officials in charge of their management are attested mainly in the 5th dynasty, several inscriptions reveal that these domains still existed during the 6th dynasty, as in the letter sent by pharaoh Pepi II to Herkhuf of Aswan (“orders have been brought to the governor(s) of the new localities, the companion(s), and the overseer(s) of priests to command that supplies be furnished from what is under the charge of each from every ḥ wt belonging to a processing center and from every temple without exception”), in the decree Coptos D, and in the titles

 Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 117–50.

137

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of Tetiankh and Meru-Bebi of Sheikh Said.138 As for the scribes of the fields, they appear occasionally in provincial titles (in Deshasha during the 5th dynasty; at Akhmim, Meir, Zawiyet el-Mayetin and Sharuna139 in the 6th) and in Coptos decrees B and L. They were subordinates of the vizier, involved in the creation of new fields, as well as in the organization of works for the crown. Livestock breeding was another important economic activity for the representatives of the central administration in the nomes. The archaeological excavations at Kom el-Hisn have revealed the existence of a center specialized in cattle breeding, a kind of installation only known in the past thanks to titles like jmj-r ḥ wt-jḥ t ‘overseer of the ḥ wt of the cow’. The officials in charge of these breeding centers usually fulfilled other functions connected with the control of the vegetation, pasture zones, and marshy areas,140 and the decrees of Coptos show that riparian grazing zones could be transformed into agricultural fields.141 Although flocks are a typical element of the iconography of the Old Kingdom, it is difficult to discern the modalities of their management and the involvement of the central and provincial administration in these activities. The scenes from the private tombs of the third millennium suggest some kind of transhumance from the swampy areas of the Delta to the high lands, but, unfortunately, we are unaware of the characteristics and paths taken.142 Nevertheless it is noteworthy that titles and texts employ a term, gs-pr, usually associated with the Delta, but whose existence is also attested in Upper Egypt, which in some contexts designates an extensive zone devoted to flock rearing.143 Together with the ḥ wt-jḥ t and the gs-pr, texts also mention stalling as another modality of breeding cattle. In his ­autobiographical account   J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (III–IV): nwt m¡wt et ḥ wt-ʿ¡t,” 38–45. 139   Two administrative papyri from Sharuna record deliveries of cereals and dates by particulars listed by their names, without any title. These documents are currently being studied by Jérémie Florès, to whom I am grateful for his comments on these important documents. 140  Moreno García, “La gestion des aires marginales,” 49–69. 141  Moreno García, in L’agriculture institutionnelle en Égypte ancienne, 104, 114. 142  Moreno García, “La gestion des aires marginales,” 57. Cf. also a passage from the first stela of Kamose (line 6), where Thebans reported that “their free land is cultivated for us, and our cattle graze in the Delta marshes” (W. Helck, Historischbiographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie [Wiesbaden, 1975], 85 [119]). 143   J.C. Moreno García, “Administration territoriale et organisation de l’espace en Égypte au troisième millénaire avant J.-C. (V): gs-pr,” 116–31. 138



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Qar, governor of Edfu, prides himself in having bred cattle for the crown in the most satisfactory way, as well as in having put the stables of his province at the head of those of Upper Egypt: “I was a judge for all of Upper Egypt. I had caused oxen of this nome to be foremost among oxen, and my cattle stables (to be) at the head of all Upper Egypt. This was not something which I had found (done) by (any) chief who was in this nome before (and was the result) of my steadiness and of the excellence of my direction of the business of the (royal ) Residence.”144 Later inscriptions of local administrators, like Imeny of Beni Hasan or Henenu, dating from the beginning of the second millennium B.C., reveal that the crown assigned flocks to the provinces in order that they would breed cattle and hand over an annual fee to the royal treasury.145 The supervision of the central administration over such local centers and agents was ensured by supra-regional authorities appointed by the king and working in close contact with the administrative departments of the crown. Probably not by chance, the growing interest in agriculture and herding was concomitant with the development of new provincial centers in Middle Egypt, thus continuing a tendency already visible in the previous dynasty and quite probably reflecting the abundance of pasture and agricultural land in this area. In any case, important cemeteries and foci of provincial power are attested at Siut,146 Zawiyet el-Mayetin,147 Der el-Gebrawi, Meir,148 Quseir elAmarna, Sharuna,149 etc., while regional officials were appointed to control this sector of the Nile valley: Pepiankh ‘the middle’ of Meir   Urk. I 254:7–11.   Urk. VII 15; W.C. Hayes, “Career of the Great Steward Henenu under Nebhepetreʿ Mentuhotpe,” JEA 35 (1949), 43–49. 146  E. Leospo, “Assiout entre la Première Période Intermédiaire et le Moyen Empire (Fouilles Schiaparelli),” in Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists (OLA 82), ed. Ch. J. Eyre (Leuven, 1998), 667–76; J. Kahl, Ancient Asyut. Cf. also the results of the archaeological mission “Asyut Project” regularly published in SAK. 147  N. Moeller, “An Old Kingdom Town at Zawiet Sultan (Zawiet Meitin) in Middle Egypt: A Preliminary Report”. In Current Research in Egyptology, II, ed. A. Cooke and F. Simpson (Oxford, 2005), 29–38. 148  R. Gillam, “From Meir to Quseir el-Amarna and back again. The Cusite nome in sat and on the ground,” in Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati (CASAE 38), ed. A. Woods, A. McFarlane, and S. Binder (Cairo, 2010), vol. I, 131–58. 149   B. Huber, “Al-Kom al-Ahmar/Šaruna: Découverte d’une ville de province,” in Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists (OLA 82), ed. Ch. J. Eyre (Leuven, 1998), 575–82; W. Schenkel, F. Gomaà, Scharuna I. Der Grabungsplatz— Die Nekropole—Gräber aus der Alten-Reichs-Nekropole (Mainz am Rhein, 2004). 144 145

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was jmj-r Šmʿw m zp¡wt ḥ rjwt-jb ‘overseer of the middle provinces of Middle Egypt’, whereas Niankhpepi of Zawiyet el-Mayetin was jmj-r wpt m zp¡wt 9 ‘overseer of commissions in the nine provinces’. Leaving aside these exceptional titles, the best attested supra-provincial title was that of jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’, held by many officials from Memphis and from the provinces. The territorial scope of this title was variable, sometimes including the twenty-two Upper Egyptian nomes, in other cases just the southernmost seven ones, and, in exceptional occasions, it coexisted with titles concerning specific areas of Upper Egypt, as in the cases of the jmj-r Šmʿw m zp¡wt ḥ rjwt-jb and the jmj-r wpt m zp¡wt 9, just quoted, or in the title nḫ t-ḫ rw m zp¡wt H̠ n-Nḫ n ‘strong of voice in the nomes of H̠ n-Nḫ n’ (or perhaps nḫ t-ḫ rw and jmj-r zp¡wt H̠ n-Nḫ n) of Tw¡w from Naga ed-Der.150 With regard to Lower Egypt, its administration continued to be exercised from Memphis in an apparently rather centralized way. No evidence of any ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ n zp¡t ‘great chief of the nome’ from this region has ever been found, and there was no counterpart of the jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’ for the Delta, with the only exceptions being vizier Kagemni, unique holder of the title jmj-r Šmʿw (T¡-)Mḥ w ‘overseeer of Upper and Lower Egypt’, and Ishti-Tjeti, a jmj[-r] zp¡wt T¡-Mḥ w ‘overseer of the provinces of Lower Egypt’, buried at Memphis.151 Even elite necropoles with decorated tombs and inscriptions are rare in this region, but it should be remembered that local potentates were well integrated into the administration, as in the case of the high priest of Heliopolis, Nefer-shu-ba, and the vizier Mehu, both from (quite probably in the case of the later) Mendes. Mendes, Tell el-Basta, and Busiris were, in fact, the main exceptions and, perhaps not accidentally, they were also important ritual centers, as revealed by their temples, cults, and leaders’ titles.152 Trade with the Levant also 150   C.N. Peck, Some Decorated Tombs of the First Intermediate Period at Naga edDêr (Ann Arbor, 1958), 1–24; Brovarski, The Inscribed Material of the First Intermediate Period from Naga ed-Der, vol. I (Ann Arbor, 2001), 287–301; Kanawati, Akhmim in the Old Kingdom, 107–9. 151   K¡-gm.n.j (PM III2 521–25) served as high dignitary from the later reigns of the 5th dynasty until the reign of Teti, at the beginning of the 6th, while Jšt̠j-T̠t̠j (PM III2 609) lived at the end of the Old Kingdom. 152  H.G. Fischer, “Some Early Monuments from Busiris, in the Egyptian Delta,” MMJ 11 (1976): 5–24; M.I. Bakr, “The Old Kingdom at Bubastis: Excavations since 1978. Outline,” in The Archaeology, Geography and History of the Egyptian Delta in Pharaonic Times, ed. A. Nibbi (Oxford, 1989), 29–52; D.B. Redford, City of the RamMan, 18–41.



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­probably played a major role in the preeminence of Mendes, as Levantine temples dating back to the Old Kingdom and found at Tell Ibrahim Awad suggest,153 as well as the mention of a harbor in the (eastern) Delta, where expeditions into the Levant were sent from Ra-hat ‘the first mouth (of the Nile)’, according to the inscription of Iny.154 The function of jmj-r Šmʿw appeared as early as the reign of Nyuserra, in the second half of the 5th dynasty,155 and until the reign of Merenre and the beginning of Pepy II it was held by many officials buried in the Memphite cemeteries, most of them also being viziers, while in the provinces it was quite rare.156 But from the reign of Merenre and the beginning of that of Pepy II the situation reversed, and the bulk of jmj-r Šmʿw are attested in the nomes, while only a few of them resided in the capital. Something similar happened with the viziers buried in the nomes, where only a few may be ascribed to the first reigns of the 6th dynasty (like Jzjj of Edfu or B¡wj of El-Hawawish). Interpreting these changes as evidence of decentralization and of the gradual crisis of the central authority seems overly simplistic. In fact, it could merely attest the growing integration and responsibilities of the provincial elites in the matters of the central government. It is noteworthy in this respect that the number of viziers and overseers of Upper Egypt buried in the nomes not only increased during the reign of Pepy II but also involved many provinces, as if the function was held only for a limited period of time by person and nome, thus avoiding the concentration (and consolidation) of too much power in a single province. The competition thus encouraged should have helped preserve the role of the king as arbiter between factions and guarantee the balance of power between nomes. Such a policy can be compared with the high number of viziers attested in the Memphite cemeteries at the beginning of the 6th dynasty, probably following a similar pattern in the distribution of power. Mobility indeed transpires in Weni’s career, who played several roles for the first kings of the 6th dynasty at the royal palace, the provinces, and abroad. He was promoted vizier, probably late in his life, 153   Bietak, “Two Ancient Near Eastern Temples,” 13–38; Bietak, “The Early Bronze Age III Temple at Tell Ibrahim Awad and Its Relevance to the Egyptian Old Kingdom,” in Perspectives on Ancient Egypt: Studies in Honor of Edward Brovarski (CASAE 40), ed. Z. Hawass, P. Der Manuelian, and R.B. Hussein (Cairo, 2010), 65–77. 154  M. Marcolin, “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche e geografiche.” 155  E. Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, 152–70. 156  Moreno García, “Review of N. Kanawati, Mahmud Abder-Raziq,” 509–20.

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but also held the office of overseer of Upper Egypt for a while: “I acted for Him (= the Pharaoh) as an overseer of Upper Egypt satisfactorily, so that no one in it did any harm to [his] fellow, I doing every task, assessing everything due to the Residence in this Upper Egypt twice, every regular duty due to the Residence in this Upper Egypt twice, filling my office (in a way) which made my reputation in this Upper Egypt. Never before had the like been done in this Upper Egypt”.157 Another case is Nekhebu, buried at Giza, a member of the family of Senedjemib Inti, who built chapels for the king in central Lower Egypt, and excavated canals both in Lower Egyp and at Qis.158 Assessing the resources and the work duties of this region thus appears the main concern of the overseer of Upper Egypt, an administrative practice which continued the old reckoning of gold and cattle which served to count the reigning years of the kings. The procedure is confirmed by the decree Coptos B of Pepy II, addressed to the vizier Djau and the overseer of Upper Egypt Khui as well as to other provincial authorities.159 The jmj-r Šmʿw appears there among other officials specialized in the management of manpower and concerned with levying people for the offices of the royal documents (pr ʿ nzwt), the ‘reversions’ bureau (the pr ḥ rj-wd̠b was, in fact, involved with fields and agricultural matters),160 the archives (pr md̠¡t), and the sealed documents (pr h̠rt-ḫ tmt), in order to set the workers to (do) any work of the house of the king (pr-nzwt). The text continues by stating that royal orders should arrive first to the high dignitaries and afterwards to the overseer of Upper Egypt, a procedure which suggests two different spheres of intervention. The overall supervision depended on the vizier, while the executive accomplishment of the mission devolved on the jmj-r Šmʿw: “with regard to a levy of the nome which is brought before the overseer of Upper Egypt for his attention after it has been brought before the dignitaries.” The officials concerned are then enumerated: dignitaries (srw), scribes of the royal documents, overseers of the scribes of the fields, overseers of the scribes of the sealed ­documents, and functionaries, all of them involved in organizing ­levies and ­preparing lists

  Urk. I 106:4–10.   Urk. I 215–21; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 265–66. 159   Urk. I 280–83; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 87–116; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 107–9. 160  Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, 140–44. 157 158



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with the names of potential workers. Finally, the text details the kind of ‘works for the king’ usually expected to be executed, consisting of every work of transport and every work of digging to be carried out in Upper Egypt. A parallel passage in the decree Coptos C provides more detailed evidence about the ‘works of the king’ ordered to be done in Upper Egypt: “the transport and digging work which is ordered to be done in the aforementioned Upper Egypt; the tax of the overseer of Upper Egypt: gold, copper, and precious items; the requirements of the House of Life: the annual needs, rations, animal feed, offerings, ropes and bindings, animal skins; the 19 5/8 arouras of ʿḥ t-land and its compulsory work; all taxes and all works which are due on water and on land.”161 Further indications in the same document explicitly state that any overseer of Upper Egypt, any official, any emissary, or any functionary who does not respect the orders of the decree shall be taken to the ‘Hall of Horus’—the bureau of the vizier.162 Similar indications are found in the decree Coptos D, where it is forbidden to divert the personnel of an agricultural domain of the temple in order to accomplish some compulsory services elsewhere.163 The overseer of Upper Egypt appears thus as subordinate to the vizier, mostly involved in collecting taxes, levying, organizing local manpower (including the elaboration of lists of personnel fit for the royal works), and collaborating with the agents and bureaus of the vizier.164 Thus, when Iny returned from his mission to the Levant having brought people and precious goods into Egypt, he was introduced in the palace in the company of the overseer of Upper Egypt and was

161   Urk. I 284–88; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 117–27; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 109–11. Two unpublished papyri from Sharuna record deliveries of cereals and dates by several individuals listed by name, without any title. Unfortunately, the institutions concerned with such deliveries are unknown. I thank Jérémie Florès for his comments on these important documents. 162  On the sḫ (rw) Ḥ r and its relationship with the palace and the ḥ wt-wrt, cf. J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, 108 n. 341, 129–32, 134. Cf. also the titles and epithets recently published in Bárta, Coppens, Vymazalová et al., Tomb of Hetepi (AS 20), Tombs AS 33–35 and AS 50–53, 3–56, pl. 3–31, 35; E.-S. Mahfouz, “Amenemhat III au Ouadi Gaouasis,” BIFAO 108 (2008): 256–57 [doc. 3], 272–73; S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit: Biographische Inschriften der 13.–17. Dynastie (SDAIK 34; Berlin-New York, 2008), 335–37. 163   Urk. I 288–93; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 137–47; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 112–13. 164  In fact, Old Kingdom officials bearing titles composed of the pr ʿ nzwt, the pr ḥ rjwd̠b, the pr md̠¡t, and the pr h̠rt-ḫ tmt are attested almost exclusively at the Memphite necropolis, with only very rare exceptions in the nomes (Abydos, Zawiyet ­el-Mayetin).

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rewarded with gold in his presence.165 A practical example of how the system actually worked may be seen in the decree Coptos L, where an agent of the king, as well as the scribes of the fields in nomes V–IX of the South, collaborated with the overseer of Upper Egypt and vizier Shemai of Coptos in order to organize an agricultural domain in this nome (a similar procedure is recorded in the decree Coptos D).166 The decree Coptos M defines the scope of the authority of Idi, an overseer of Upper Egypt in nomes I–VII of the South, who acted as a representative of his father Shemai, a vizier, and overseer of Upper Egypt whose authority encompassed all the South: “under his command will operate the Counts, the treasurers of the king of Lower Egypt, the sole companions, the overseers of priests, the chiefs, and the governors of towns” (similar statement in Coptos O).167 Having in mind that the same bureaus and royal agents were involved in some activities of the vizier and of the overseer of Upper Egypt, it seems natural that such offices were quite often held by the same official, while in other cases the jmj-r Šmʿw appears as a local executive agent of the vizier. This could explain why the holders of the title of jmj-r Šmʿw appear in so many different nomes, as if there were no formal central office for this institution in a permanent place, thus relying, from an executive point of view, more on single holders than on a permanent local administrative structure (offices, archives, etc.) which, in any case, ultimately devolved on and was supervised by the vizier milieu. Another aspect of the authority of the overseers of Upper Egypt is that the local potentates were liable to them as a source of both authority and prestige, as it is expressed in some biographical texts of the First Intermediate Period, principally from Moalla: “I invited the council of the overseer of Upper Egypt, who is in the Thinite nome, to confer with [the Hereditary Prince], count, chief priest, and great chief of the nome of Nekhen, Hetep,”168 and “I did not work for any ordinary man (šrr nb). It was (rather) for notables (ḥ ¡tjw-ʿ) and ­overseers of Upper Egypt for whom I worked, in exchange for there 165  M. Marcolin, “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche e geografiche,” esp. 53, 70 fig. 1 [col. 3], 76 fig. 4 [col. 3]. 166   Urk. I 295–96; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 165–71; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 120–21. 167   Urk. I 300–1; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 184–89; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 121. 168   J. Vandier, Moʿalla: La tombe d’Ankhtifi et la tombe de Sébekhotep (BdE 18; Cairo, 1950), 186–87.



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being granted to me a field to finance being a wab-priest (r wʿb ḥ r.s), and for there being given to me fine linen, oil, and honey.”169 With the crisis of the unitary monarchy the meetings described in Ankhtifi’s inscription were directly organized by the local chiefs, independent of any other regional authority, as stated in the inscription of the general Intef, a representative of the ‘great chief of Upper Egypt’, Intef of Thebes: “I went downstream and upstream on a mission for the Hereditary Prince, count, great chief of Upper Egypt, Intef, to the place to which the governors of Upper and Lower Egypt (were going). Each governor, having arrived there, then rejoiced on meeting me, because I was good of speech, I am one who is outspoken [and is efficient of] counsel, commanding of voice on the day of assembling, who declares a statement, [being self-collected on the day of] conference.”170 Finally, the role of local temples should also be analyzed in the light of the administrative changes that occurred during the 6th dynasty.171 The fragmentary royal annals of the 6th dynasty, as well as the decrees from Coptos, reveal that the crown continued endowing provincial temples172 and was also involved in their internal affairs. Pharaohs Teti and Pepy I built impressive ḥ wt-k¡ complexes at Tell Basta,173 and the last king was also active at Dendera, while the foundation of many ḥ wt-k¡ in the nomes appears as a royal concern in Teti’s annals,174 and officials involved in the administration of the royal ḥ wt-k¡ in the South figure prominently in the epigraphic record. The fragmentary biography of Iy-Mery of El-Hawawish reveals that he delivered grain to the Residence (“. . .Upper Egyptian grain to the Residence”), that he reckoned the goods of the Residence in the nome (“. . . of this nome when reckoning goods for the Residence”), and that he never took

  Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, etc., I1 (London, 1911), pl. 54.  H.G. Fischer, Varia Nova (Egyptian Studies, 3; New York, 1996), 83–90, pl. 9–10. 171  Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, p. 126–43; R. Bussmann, Die Provinz­ tempel Ägyptens von der 0. bis zur 11. Dynastie: Archäologie und Geschichte einer gesellschaftlichen Institution zwischen Residenz und Provinz (PdÄ 30; Leiden, 2010), passim. 172  M. Baud and V. Dobrev, “De nouvelles annales de l’Ancien Empire égyptien. Une ‘Pierre de Palerme’ pour la VIe dynastie,” BIFAO 95 (1995): 38–39, 40–41. 173   Cf. E.R. Lange, “Die Ka-Anlage Pepis I. in Bubastis im Kontext königlicher Ka-Anlagen des Alten Reiches,” ZÄS 133 (2006): 121–40; Ch. Tietze, “Die Architektur der Ka-Anlage Pepis I. in Tell Basta,” ZÄS 135 (2008): 165–79, with previous bibliography. 174   Baud and Dobrev, “De nouvelles annales de l’Ancien Empire” 31. 169 170

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away grain under his control, except for paying for work on the local ḥ wt-k¡ of Pepy (“For indeed I never took away grain which was in my charge, other than all payments relating to any works of the ḥ wt-k¡ of Pepy which is in Akhmim”).175 As he was also an inspector of priests (sḥ d̠ ḥ m-nt̠r) and “a trusted one in the house of Min”, it seems that his responsibilities in the local temple were clearly separated from his occupations as a local administrator for the Residence. This example shows that royal control was still visible over provincial temples at the end of the Old Kingdom176 and, consequently, nothing implies that they gradually became increasingly autonomous with respect to the crown. Several clauses in both private inscriptions and royal decrees clearly reveal that the exemptions granted to local temples were temporary and cancellable,177 so that royal permission remained a formal prerequisite for local potentates desiring to set up— and provide with offerings—their own statues within the temples.178 In fact, provincial temples appear as part of a broader arena wherein different strategies were played between the king and the royal administration, on the one hand, and provincial elites, on the other hand, depending on the specific conditions prevailing in each province. The final aim was to strengthen the links between the Court and the local potentates. Whereas the king intervened in local temples,179 he also incorporated provincial potentates into the ranks of the administration, granted them remunerated priestly offices in royal cults,180 and even married provincial ladies. 175   Urk. I 264; N. Kanawati, The Rock Tombs of El-Hawawish, The Cemetery of Akhmim, VII (Sydney, 1987), 15–16, fig. 7[b], 8[a]; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 360 [261]. 176  As revealed by royal decrees concerning endowments as well as by list of offerings for cults from Coptos: H. Goedicke, “A Cult Inventory of the Eighth Dynasty from Coptos (Cairo JE 43290),” 71–84; Goedicke, “An Inventory from Coptos,” RdÉ 46 (1995): 210–11. Cf. also Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, 143–52. 177  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 251–52. 178  Decree of Pepy II at Abydos, decrees Coptos K and R, and inscription of Djau of Abydos, respectively: Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 106, 119–20, 123–24, 358. Cf. also Urk. I 131. 179  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 252–65; Moreno García, “Temples, administration provinciale et élites locales en Haute-Égypte,” 7–22; Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir,” 95–128. 180   Thus Sabni of Aswan was appointed ḫ ntj-š in the pyramid of Pepy II and rewarded with a field (Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 338), some officials of Dendera became ḥ q¡w ḥ wt of the pyramids of the pharaohs of the 6th dynasty (Urk. I 268–70), and other Upper Egyptian officials were also appointed ḫ ntj-š of the palace, of the royal pyramids, or held titles related to the Court.



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What We Infer. True ‘Provincial Viziers’ and ‘Governors’ or Just Simply Potentates? A formula in the tomb of T̠¡wtj of Qasr el-Sayed is addressed to several local authorities: “O you, friends (smrw), overseers of the house (jmjw-r pr), governors of towns (ḥ q¡w nwwt). . . .”181 Such statements referring to local chiefs were to become more frequent during the First Intermediate Period, and give a glimpse into local sub-elites otherwise overshadowed by the predominance of the monuments of the highest potentates in provincial cemeteries. Thus, the jmj-r pr T̠bw of Dra Abu el-Naga proclaims that he served as jmj-r pr for six governors (ḥ q¡w),182 while Nfrw of Thebes says that he worked as scribe for seven chiefs (ḥ rjw-tp),183 and Mrr of Gebelein states that he delivered offerings in two temples for thirteen governors (ḥ q¡w).184 These expressions suggest the coexistence of many potentates within a single nome, as the decrees of Coptos confirm with their mention of the authorities to whom they were addressed. That is the case of the ḥ rjw-tp nw Ḥ rwj ‘the chiefs of the Coptite nome’ mentioned in the decree Coptos B,185 while the division of a field was intended to be carried out by the local overseer of priests, Idi, together with the ḥ rjw-tp ḥ q¡w nwwt d̠¡d̠¡t nt ¡ḥ t ‘chiefs, governors of towns, and the council of the field’ in the decree Coptos G;186 that such a precise, temporally well delimited action should involve the present and future nomarchs seems quite improbable and it is safer to see in these ḥ rjw-tp mere local chiefs and not a shortened form of the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡, especially when considering that no ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ is attested at Coptos during the Old Kingdom. Similarly, chiefs (ḥ rjw-tp) and governors of ḥ wt of both Upper and Lower Egypt participated in the great expedition commanded by Weni,187 but, in fact, no ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ is attested in the Delta. An inscription of Siut was addressed to “every chief (ḥ rj-tp), every man of quality

181   Urk. I 258: 3; T. Säve-Söderbergh, The Old Kingdom Cemetery at Hamra Dom (Stockholm, 1994), 48, pl. 25. 182   J.-J. Clère and J. Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire et de la ème XI dynastie (Bibliotheca Ægyptiaca, 10; Brussels, 1948), 2–3 § 3. 183   Clère and Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 1 § 1. 184   J. Černy, “The Stela of Merer in Cracow,” JEA 47 (1961): 5–9, pl. I. 185   Urk. I 280:16. 186   Urk. I 294:16. 187   Urk. I 102:4.

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(z¡ z), every noble (sʿḥ ), and every commoner (nd̠s)” in his nome.188 Other sources, principally from the end of the third millennium, mention local potentates (ʿ¡/wr ‘great ones’), as opposed to nd̠s ‘humble ones’, and many officials took pride in nourishing the ‘great ones’ as proof of their skill.189 In fact, the royal decrees of the late Old Kingdom refer to different kinds of local authorities as recipients (together with officials) of the orders issued by the king, from ‘chiefs’ (ḥ rj-tp) to village governors (ḥ q¡w nwwt), the latter playing an essential role as intermediaries with the local population. Yet the almost complete absence of sources referring to their activities, and their usually stereotypical representation in the iconography, should not cause us to forget that they were essential links in the chain of command linking the palace to the villages. Only in a few instances were they wealthy enough (or had the necessary contacts) to provide prestige items for themselves, like the statues of the governors Ankhudjes and Yankh.190 Therefore, the ambiguity regarding the use of the titles ḥ rj-tp/ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ in the decrees of Coptos, in the inscription of Weni, and in the inscription of Qar of Edfu (“I became a youth who tied the belt during the time of Teti, and I was brought to Pepy [I] in order that I might be educated among the children of the chiefs (ḥ rjw-tp)”)191 makes it difficult to decide if a ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ was a true ‘provincial governor’, with clearly defined administrative functions, or rather an unofficial authority, the formally recognized most important potentate in a nome, a primus 188  Siut III 62–63: E. Edel, Die Inschriften der Grabfronten der Siut-Gräber in MittelÄgypten aus der Herakleopolitenzeit. Eine Wiederherstellung nach den Zeichnungen der Description de l’Égypte (Opladen, 1984), 27, 34–35, fig. 5. 189  Many references in Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, 33, 39 n. 112; Moreno García, “Élites provinciales, transformations sociales et idéologie à la fin de l’Ancien Empire et à la Première Période Intermédiaire,” in Des Néferkarê aux Montouhotep: Travaux archéologiques en cours sur la fin de la VIe dynastie et la Première Période Intermédiare (TMO, 40), ed. L. Pantalacci and C. Berger-El-Naggar (Lyon, 2005), 215–28. Cf. the assertion by Khentykawpepy of Balat: “It was when I was but a young man who tied on the belt among the great ones that I was named to the office of ruler of the oasis” (J. Osing, Denkmäler der Oase Dachla aus dem Nachlass von Ahmed Fakhry [AVDAIK 28; Mainz am Rhein, 1982], pl. 6, 60). 190   J.C. Moreno García, “Ḥ q¡w ‘jefes, gobernadores’ y élites rurales en el III milenio antes de Cristo. Reflexiones acerca de algunas estatuas del Imperio Antiguo,” in . . . Ir a buscar leña: Estudios dedicados al profesor Jesús López, ed. J. Cervelló Autuori and A.J. Quevedo Alvarez (Barcelona, 2001), 141–54; A.O. Bolshakov, “ʿnḫ -wd̠.s: St. Petersburg—Cambridge,” GM 188 (2002): 21–48; Bolshakov, Studies on Old Kingdom Reliefs and Sculpture in the Hermitage (ÄA 67; Wiesbaden, 2005), 17–32, pl. 1–8. 191   Urk. I 253:18–254:1.



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inter pares. It is interesting to note in this respect that the activities of a ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ are never detailed in the biographies of their holders, even in that of Qar of Edfu, where his achievements in cattle-raising as well as ‘head of all the chiefs of all Upper Egypt in its entirety’ are probably related to his other functions as jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’ and jmj-r jt Šmʿw ‘overseer of the grain of Upper Egypt’.192 When listed among other provincial authorities, the ḥ rjw-tp appear just after the ḥ ¡tjw-ʿ (men of elevated status), the agents of the crown (like the ḫ tmw-bjtj and the smrw wʿtj), and even the local priesthood ( jmj-r ḥ mw-nt̠r, sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r), only preceding the chiefs of the villages (ḥ q¡w nwwt).193 The royal decrees B, C, and D mention the jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’ and the agents of the king (officials, royal document scribes, overseer of scribes of fields, functionaries, etc.) as the main dignitaries involved in levying workers, while the ḥ rjw-tp are listed among other authorities and agents of the king who could also eventually perform these activities. A clear division between two different spheres of activity appears then, further corroborated by the decree Coptos R, which also distinguishes at the provincial level between the srw ‘officials (of the administration)’ and the ḥ rjw-tp, that is to say the administration and the local potentates, both answerable to the direct superior intervention of the king, the vizier, and the srw from the central administration.194 In fact, the central administration closely surveyed the activities of the local dignitaries, to the point that they could eventually be summoned to Memphis in order to be judged and their actions evaluated: “I was never placed under guard, I was never imprisoned. With regard to everything the witnesses said in the presence of the officials, I always came away from the matter with success, the matter having been thrown back on those who spoke (against me), since I had been cleared in the presence of the officials, for they had maliciously spoken against me.”195 Also bearing in mind that in some cases several elite necropoles coexisted within a single nome, thus pointing to the existence of   Urk. I 254.   Cf., for example, the decrees Coptos B, M, and O: Urk. I 280sq., 299, 300sq. 194   Urk. I 304–6; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 214–25; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 123–24. 195   Urk. I 223:10–16; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 370. Cf. another case in the letter pBerlin 8869: P.C. Smither, “An Old Kingdom Letter Concerning the Crimes of Count Sabni,” JEA 28 (1942): 16–19; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 179. 192 193

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­ ifferent powerful families in the same province, it seems probable that d a ‘great chief of the nome’ was less a ‘provincial governor’ than a kind of chief spokesman, mediator, and informal agent of the Pharaoh, a primus inter pares among the potentates of his province, distinguished as such by the attribution of the specific title of ‘great’ among the other ‘chiefs’.196 It is significant in this respect that the disappearance of the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of a nome in Late Middle Kingdom sources is more or less contemporary with the appearance of the title qnbty n w ‘district councillor’, a title which implies the existence of rural district councils whose members (quite probably local potentates) acted as mediators before the vizier: “Now, it is he [= the vizier] who shall send for the councillors of the (rural) district(s). It is he who shall dispatch them so that they may report to him the matters of their districts.”197 The holders of this title were involved mainly in the delivery of crops and cattle to the vizier and in carrying out irrigation works when requested.198 Moreover, the hypothesis that the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of a nome designated, in fact, an informal authority, and not a well-defined administrative office within the bureaucratic hierarchy of the kingdom, matches up with other sets of evidence. On the one hand, it may be noticed that they are entirely absent not only in Lower Egypt and the northernmost provinces of Upper Egypt, but also at Elephantine, while their presence was minimal in areas like Hemmamiya, Meir, and Coptos (only one attestation). On the other hand, administrative structures present in certain nomes in previous centuries seem to disappear during the 6th dynasty (Hemmamiya, Deshasha) in spite of the development of the ‘nomarchal system’.199 Furthermore, some Upper Egyptian nomes exhibit very idiosyncratic features, like Abydos, where the rise of a powerful family linked by marriage with the Pharaohs themselves was concomitant with the absence of local holders of the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡, 196   6th dynasty great chiefs and rulers of the nome proclaim in their autobiographies that they were promoted by the king, like Isi and Qar of Edfu, Ibi of Deir el-Gebrawi, and Khentikaupepy of Balat: Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 341, 343, 363, and 375. Note the contrast with Henqu, ‘great chief of the nome’ of Deir el-Gebrawi at the end of the Old Kingdom, who claims to have risen to be ruler in the province together with his brother, without any reference to any superior authority (Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 367). 197   Van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier, 172–78. 198   Van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier, 234–42. 199  One can compare this situation with that prevailing in previous centuries, when no true general title encompassing the notion of ‘provincial governor’ existed. The sources instead refer to sšm t¡ or ḥ q¡ of a nome, etc.



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borne instead by several ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of another province, Deir el-Gebrawy; nevertheless, towards the end of the Old Kingdom, native ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of the Thinite nome reappeared, but they were buried not in Abydos, but at Naga ed-Der, even at Memphis.200 Also, the sporadic references to ‘the middle provinces’, the ‘nine provinces’, and ‘the provinces of H̠ n-Nḫ n’ suggest that ephemeral regional spheres of authority were created when needed. Finally, texts like the Duties of the Vizir (from the first half of the 18th dynasty, but reflecting conditions prevalent in previous centuries) never mention the ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ in sections devoted to the government of the provinces, in spite of the fact that holders of the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ are attested in the Middle and early New Kingdoms, but only in a handful of provinces, a circumstance that has also been interpreted not as a general pattern of provincial government but, instead, as a local particularity limited to certain provinces due to their specific history.201 In this respect, it may be significant that the main authorities of the oasis of Dakhla during the Old Kingdom were called ‘ḥ q¡ of the oasis’ and not ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡, while those of nome 3 of Lower Egypt, one of the rare provinces of the Delta where many 6th dynasty provincial administrators are documented, bore the title of jmj-r Ḥ wt-jḥ t. As for those at Elephantine, they bore titles related to foreigners, foreign lands, and foreign tribute, in accordance with their role as leaders of caravans. When considering all these facts together it seems safer to conclude that 6th dynasty ḥ rjw-tp ʿ¡ of a nome were uniquely distinguished local potentates who helped the central administration in recruiting and organizing local manpower (workers, soldiers), as the decrees of Coptos, the biography of Weni, and Middle Kingdom biographies of nomarchs (like Imeny of Beni Hassan) show.202 Other administrative functions, mostly related to taxes, the census, demarcation of land, 200  One can add the case of the ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of the 7th nome Djaty, whose stela was erected in the Thinite nome (H.G. Fischer, “The cult and nome of the goddess Bat,” JARCE 1 [1962]: 9, pl. 3, fig. 4). 201  D. Franke, “The Career of Khnumhotep III of Beni Hasan and the So-Called ‘Decline of the Nomarchs’,” 55. 202  Even in First Intermediate Period biographies local potentates in the service of the Heracleopolitan kings claimed to have participated in the missions promoted by the king or to have performed specific activities as high dignitaries of the court, like Khety II of Siut or Ahanakhte of Bersheh: M. El-Khadragy, “The Decoration of the Rock-Cut Chapel of Khety II at Asyut,” SAK 37 (2008): 219–41; E. Brovarski, “Ahanakht of Bersheh and the Hare Nome in the First Intermediate Period and Middle Kingdom,” in Studies in Ancient Egypt, the Aegean, and the Sudan. Essays in

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etc., devolved upon professional administrators (srw) and agents of the king under the control of the overseer of Upper Egypt and the vizier (like in the Middle Kingdom biography of Khnumhotep II of Beni Hasan). Slightly later titles were also formed with ḥ rj-tp (ʿ¡) in order to express territorial authority,203 while Wenennefer, a Ramesside high priest of Osiris in Abydos, proudly boasted of his being “a prophet (ḥ m-nt̠r) skilled in his duties, a great magnate (ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡) in Abydos”.204 Perhaps the mere idea of provincial governors and ‘nomarchs’ in the 6th dynasty is a somewhat retrospective (and abusive) application to third millennium sources of administrative structures of later periods of Egyptian history, when true ‘nomarchs’ existed. The importance of local potentates in recruiting and providing manpower emerges from other sources, which tell of workers being supplied and organized by local chiefs and dignitaries.205 The overall system then appears to have been a rather flexible one, combining a basic centralized structure directed by the vizier and the overseer of Upper Egypt, relying on a network of ḥ wwt and other centers of the crown, and supported by the collaboration of informal local potentates (also in charge of local temples), who helped recruiting manpower thanks to their role as men of authority and heads of patronage networks. Late Old Kingdom sources indeed reveal that the conscription of local workers was progressively ensured by officials, patrons, potentates, etc., who supplied personnel from their circumscriptions. Such flexibility explains why the nomarchal structure was not necessary in Lower Egypt and the northernmost provinces of Upper Egypt, due to their proximity to the capital and their direct control from Memphis. In fact, this area later became a coherent political entity during the First Intermediate Period (the Herakleopolitan kingdom), opposed to the rival powers organized around Thebes in Honor of Dows Dunham on the Occasion of His 90th Birthday, June 1, 1980, ed. W.K. Simpson and W.M. Davis, (Boston, 1981) 14–30. 203   Cf. the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ n Šmʿw ‘great chief of Upper Egypt’ of a ruler of Thebes in the First Intermediate Period (Fischer, Dendera, 129 n. 571) or the appearance, in the Middle Kingdom, of the title ḥ rj-tp n t¡ d̠r.f ‘chief of the entire land’, held by several high dignitaries of the central administration: W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches (Berlin, 2003), passim. 204  KRI III 454:3–4. 205  F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht, 2: The Control Notes and Team Marks (New York, 1990), 26; Moreno García, “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle de l’Ancien et du Moyen Empire,” 113–19; Andrássy, “Symbols in the Reisner Papyri”; Andrássy, “Builders’ Graffiti.”



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the South. It also justifies the notable differences concerning the frequency of lesser titles (like h̠rj-tp nzwt, rḫ nzwt, and others) observable in the provinces of Upper Egypt during the 6th dynasty. Moreover, the province was not necessarily a self-encompassing unit of territorial authority, as its limits in the Delta appear rather variable in some cases during the 3rd millennium,206 and it could be administratively integrated within larger territorial structures, as seen before, and as it was vulnerable to the intervention of outsiders in its affairs. Thus, for instance, Sabni of Aswan was charged by the king with the burial of an inspector of priests of Elkab,207 an overseer of priests of Elephantine had agricultural interests in the area of Elkab,208 while the three southernmost provinces of Upper Egypt often appear under the control of a single ruler during the First Intermediate Period.209 In other instances, a single ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ was appointed over several nomes, as in the case already discussed ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of Deir el-Gebrawy and in those of Jnḥ rt-nḫ t (nomes VIII and X)210 and ʿb-jḥ w of Dendera (nomes VI–VIII).211 Finally, there are cases where the most prominent local authority was not a chief of the province, but rather the overseer of the main locality, as in the cases referred to in the case of Elephantine in 4th dynasty times as well as that of Ḥ wt-jḥ t.

206  H.G. Fischer, “Some Notes on the Easternmost Nomes of the Delta in the Old and Middle Kingdoms,” JNES 18 (1959): 129–42; S. Quirke, “Frontier or Border? The Northeast Delta in Middle Kingdom Texts,” in The Archaeology, Geography and History of the Egyptian Delta in Pharaonic Times, ed. A. Nibbi (Oxford, 1989), 261–74. 207   Urk. I 140:2–8; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 336. 208   Papyrus Turin CG 54002: A. Roccati, “Una lettera inedita dell’Antico Regno,” JEA 54 (1968): 14–22; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 179. 209  Not only under Ankhtifi but also under Hetepi of Elkab: G. Gabra, “Preliminary Report on the Stela of Ḥ tpἰ from El-Kab from the Time of Wahankh Inyôtef II,” MDAIK 32 (1976): 45–56, pl. 14. 210  H. Goedicke, “Two Inlaid Inscriptions of the Earliest Middle Kingdom,” in Gold of Praise: Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honor of Edward F. Wente (SAOC 58), ed. E. Teeter and J.A. Larson (Chicago, 1999), 149–52. He was also jmj-r Šmʿw. 211  Fischer, Dendera, 203–205, fig. 40, pl. 24. In fact, nomes VI–VIII/IX of Upper Egypt shared the same ruler in different periods of the third millennium, already under Netjeraperef in the 4th dynasty (jmj-r wpt of nomes V–VII: Fischer, Dendera, pp. 8–9, pl. 1), ʿb-jḥ w of Dendera himself, and an official from Coptos in the First Intermediate Period (¡t̠w of certain localities in provinces VI–IX: H.G. Fischer, Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome, Dynasties VI–XI [AnOr. 40; Rome, 1964], 106–111 [43], pl. 36), while a Middle Kingdom official claims in his autobiography that his ancestors were scribes of the watered fields in nomes VII–VIII (Leiden V 3: H.D. Schneider and M.J. Raven, Rijksmuseum van Oudheden te Leiden [Gravenhage, 1981], 66–67 [45]; M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Autobiographies Chiefly of the Middle Kingdom: A Study and an Anthology [Freiburg, 1988], 73–74[30]).

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A related consequence is that no vizier of Upper Egypt was needed within such a structure and, in fact, no solid evidence proves that viziers buried in Upper Egyptian nomes were, in fact, viziers of Upper Egypt whose authority was circumscribed to this area. The decree Coptos B, for instance, was addressed to the overseer of Upper Egypt Khui and to the vizier, overseer of scribes of royal documents and overseer of the pyramid town Djau (of Abydos), the titles of the latter revealing that he was active at Memphis. The scenes depicting high officials in the funerary temple of Pepi II do not support the idea of two contemporaneous viziers. In one case, the vizier Idi is followed by an overseer of the ḫ ntjw-š of the palace, by the overseer of Upper Egypt, Khui, and by the overseer of all the works, Impy.212 In other cases, the dignitaries following the vizier do not include any jmj-r Šmʿw and, in fact, three viziers are mentioned in this monument, more likely pointing to succesive officials in this office than to simultaneous holders of the title.213 As powerful provincial families were closely linked to the highest spheres of the Court, and some of their members were sent to Memphis in order to be educated, honored, and pursue a career there, it seems quite normal that some of them rose to the position of vizier for an unspecified period of time before returning to their original provinces in order to be buried there, especially when considering that skillful dignitaries could occupy a diversified set of functions, the vizier Weni, buried at Abydos, being the quintessential example. The same conditions prevailed in other very specific functions, like that of ‘great of seers’ at Heliopolis, among whose holders figure only two provincial officials with strong connections to the royal palace, TjetiKaihep of Akhmim and Nefershuba of Mendes.214 The End of the Old Kingdom: Crisis or Continuity? Recent research indicates that the First Intermediate Period was nothing like the ‘dark age’ suggested by the traditional historiography.215   Jequier, Le monument funéraire de Pépi II, II, pl. 46.   Jequier, Le monument funéraire de Pépi II, II, pl. 50, 54. Cf. also Strudwick, Administration, 63 sq. 214  D.B. Redford, “The False-Door of Nefer-shu-Ba from Mendes,” in Millions of Jubilees: Studies in Honor of David P. Silverman, ed. Z. Hawass and J.H. Wegner (Cairo, 2010), 123–35, fig. 1–5. 215  S.J. Seidlmayer, Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich: Studien zur Archäologie der Ersten Zwischenzeit (SAGA 1; Heidelberg, 1990); Seidlmayer, “Die Ikonographie des Todes,” in Social Aspects of Funerary Culture in the 212 213



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In fact, the urban development of cities like Edfu, the rise of new polities around localities like Dara, Thebes, Herakleopolis, and Ezbet Rushdi, the wealth displayed in many provincial cemeteries, the innovations in the artistic and epigraphic domains, and the broad social access to prestige goods formerly restricted to the administrative elite may all be interpreted as the culmination of a long term process of provincial growth and of integration of the provincial elites within the administrative structure of the kingdom. However, the division of Egypt into the Theban and Herakleopolitan kingdoms may also be interpreted as the consequence of the increasing imbalance of power between the two regions. It is noteworthy in this respect that the nucleus of the Herakleopolitan policy did not lie in the Delta, nor in the venerable Memphite area, which remained under their control, but in provincial areas like Siut, Bersheh, and, of course, Herakleopolis itself. In fact the northern kingdom appears as the heir of the former pharaonic monarchy and its traditions, as it encompassed the area formerly administered directly from Memphis (i.e., Lower Egypt and the northernmost area of Middle Egypt), while its power outside this zone continued to depend on ‘nomarchs’, that is to say on potentates that continued to hold the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of a nome during the First Intermediate Period and who belonged to true local dynasties at Siut, Akhmim, and Bersheh/ Hatnub. In any case, the ‘regionalization’ of power216 gave an opportunity to the local lower elite to enhance both their status and social values, especially in the south, as can be inferred from the epigraphic record: the holders of the title ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ of a nome virtually disappeared in the Theban kingdom, and thus the social position of the ‘nomarchs’ seems to have been downplayed outside the Herakleopolitan kingdom, a circumstance which reinforces the impression that their former authority and prestige were closely linked to the existence of a strong central government.217 In contrast, governors of localities (ḥ q¡), ‘greats’ Egyptian Old and Middle Kingdoms (OLA 103), ed. H. Willems (Leuven, 2001), 205– 52; Seidlmayer, “Vom Sterben der kleinen Leute: Tod und Bestattung in der sozialen Grundschicht am Ende des Alten Reiches,” in Grab und Totenkult im alten Ägypten, ed. H. Guksch, E. Hofmann, and M. Bommas (Munich, 2003), 60–74; Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte; Moreno García, “Élites et pratiques funéraires dans la nécropole de Téti à la fin du IIIe millénaire,” CdE 157– 58 (2004)L 104–21; N. Moeller, “The First Intermediate Period: A Time of Famine and Climate change?” Ägypten und Levante 15 (2005): 153–67. 216  L. Morenz, Die Zeit der Regionen im Spiegel der Gebelein-Region: Kulturgeschicht­ liche Re-konstruktionen (PdÄ 27; Leiden, 2010). 217  H.G. Fischer, “Gaufürst,” LÄ II (Wiesbaden, 1977): 410–13; L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel in Politik und Verwaltung des frühen Mittleren Reiches in

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(wr/ʿ¡), chiefs (ḥ rj-tp), and military leaders ( jmj-r mšʿ) emerged as respected local authorities, while officials with supra-provincial authority seem to have been essential in the South just prior to the consolidation of the Theban kingdom in the eight southenrmost provinces of Egypt, as Jnḥ rt-nḫ t (nomes VIII and X),218 ʿb-jḥ w of Dendera (nomes VI–VIII),219 Ankhtify (nomes I–III),220 Hetepi (nomes I–III),221 and an anonymous official from Coptos (nomes VI–IX)222 reveal. Finally, the crisis of pharaonic authority led to the disorganization of its institutions in the rebel areas around Thebes: Redikhnum of Dendera proclaimed that officials (srw) and governors of ḥ wt were appointed by the Theban kings in the zones under their control during the 11th dynasty,223 whilst Henenu and other Theban high officials re-­established the fiscal organization in the South,224 and even the chief priests of Coptos assumed functions traditionally devoted to the agents of the kings until the re-establishment of a strong power in the South.225 In fact, the crisis of the centralized state at the end of the Old Kingdom saw the emergence of local ambitious leaders whose power was based, partly at least, on their capacity to raise provincial armies. The last pharaohs of the Old Kingdom were apparently obliged to rely on the support of some of these loyal provincial leaders in order to exert their authority and suppress rebellion. In such a troubled context, military qualities became highly praised in both the artistic and ‘literary’ record, thus fostering the development of a heroic ethos that further stressed the capabilities of local rulers. The epigraphic sources from this period mention jmjw-r mšʿ ‘generals’ or chiefs of troops in provinces like Edfu, Moʿalla, Gebelein, Thebes, Dendera, Naga ed-Der, Akhmim, Hagarsa, and Siut. Some of them left extensive records, in

Ägypten (Göttinger Orientforschungen IV. Reihe: Ägypten, Band 18; Wiesbaden, 1987), 155–70. 218  Goedicke, “Two Inlaid Inscriptions,” 149–152. 219  Fischer, Dendera, 203–5, fig. 40, pl. 24. 220   Vandier, Moʿalla, passim. 221  Gabra, “Preliminary Report on the Stela of Ḥ tpἰ from El-Kab from the Time of Wahankh Inyôtef II,” 45–56, pl. 14. 222  Fischer, Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome, 106–11 [43], pl. 36. 223   CGC 20543: K. Lange and H. Schäfer, Grab- und Denksteine des Mittleren Reiches II (Cairo, 1902), 164–67. 224  Hayes, “Career of the Great Steward Henenu under Nebhepetreʿ Mentuhotpe,” 43–49. 225  Moreno García, “Temples, administration provinciale et élites locales en HauteÉgypte,” 15–17.



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which they display the new qualities of bravery, personal initiative, and military success, Ankhtifi being doubtless the most prominent of them, but in no case the only one. Not surprisingly, the First Intermediate Period saw, for instance, the first military usage of the term d̠¡mw, the contemporary designation of recruits and inexperienced soldiers as opposed to warriors ʿḥ ¡wtjw from the Middle Kingdom on,226 which is mentioned in a context of fighting in a First Intermediate Period fragmentary inscription from Hagarsa, in Middle Egypt.227 Precisely, the term ʿḥ ¡wtj also becomes common in late third millennium inscriptions, whereas another expression with military connotations, ʿnḫ n nwt ‘soldier of the town militia’, goes back to the same period.228 Also, Nubian troops were employed by both Theban and Herakleopolitans and their allies.229 It seems as if the demanding new fighting capabilities, in a context of armed conflicts between warlords and local rulers, made it necessary to increase and improve the training of provincial forces, as well as to build fortresses. In fact, provincial fortresses became a new element of the provincial landscape during the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, probably intended to complete the long-established role of (fortified) agricultural and administrative royal centers like the swnw towers and the ḥ wt as local bases of power.230 If territorial division, local autonomy, the raising of military leaders, and administrative disorganization characterized the First Intermediate Period, the end of the 6th dynasty, even the 8th dynasty (at least partly), was still apparently a period of stability, of formal recognition of the central role of the king, and of continuity of the territorial administrative structures current in previous decades. The statue of Ḥ tp-n(.j), for instance, records his titles jp ʿwj zmjwt š¡w qbḥ w ‘one who reckons the production of the deserts, marshlands, and heaven’, md̠ḥ zš nzwt jp t̠zt m prwj ‘commander of the king’s scribes who reckons the troops  D. Stefanović, “D̠ ¡mw in the Middle Kingdom,” LingAeg 15 (2007): 217–29.  N. Kanawati, The Tombs of El-Hagarsa, vol. III (Sydney, 1995), 15. 228  O.D. Berlev, “Les prétendus ‘citadins’ au Moyen Empire,” RdÉ 23 (1971): 23–48. 229  H.G. Fischer, “The Nubian Mercenaries of Gebelein during the First Intermediate Period,” Kush 9 (1961): 44–80; M. El-Khadragy, “The Northern Soldiers-Tomb at Asyut,” SAK 35 (2006): 147–64; El-Khadragy, “The Decoration of the Rock-Cut Chapel of Khety II at Asyut,” 219–41; J.C. Darnell, “The Rock Inscriptions of Tjehemau at Abisko,” ZÄS 130 (2003): 31–48. 230   Cf. some texts and references in J.C. Moreno García, “War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE),” in Studies on War in the Ancient Near East: Collected Essays on Military History (AOAT, 372), ed. J. Vidal (Münster, 2010), 25–26. 226 227

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(of men and cattle) in the Double Domain’, jmj-r ʿbw-r nzwt jp ʿwj zmjwt š¡w qbḥ w ‘overseer of the king’s repast who ­reckons the ­production of the deserts, marshlands, and heaven’,231 thus suggesting that the fiscal system was still operative in the late Old Kingdom, as other contemporary sources confirm.232 Local families of potentates continued to display local and court titles in Upper Egypt cemeteries (like Elkab, Dendera, Hagarsa, Akhmim, Naga ed-Der, Deir el-Gebrawy, and others), while the epigraphic evidence from Coptos shows that a local potentate, Shemai, could accumulate the functions of vizier, overseer of Upper Egypt, and other titles related to the central government. In fact he also continued the policy of marriage alliances between the crown and powerful local families, as he married a princess also buried in the nome.233 Expeditions in search of precious stone were also being organized.234 The network of ḥ wt was still operative, judging from the number of ḥ q¡ ḥ wt from this period235 and ‘great chiefs of the nome’ are attested in many Upper Egyptian provinces. Even the involvment of the Court in the control and sanction of local authorities, as far south as Elephantine, emerges from the papyri from this period.236

231  Fischer, Varia Nova, 32–33, 40, and H. Altenmüller, SAK 41 (2012): 1–20, fig. 1–2. 232  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 267. 233  On this family and the local conditions prevailing in the Coptite nome, cf. Fischer, Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome, passim; Fischer, “A New Sixth Dynasty Inscription from Naqada,” in Hommages à Jean Leclant. Vol. 1: Etudes pharaoniques (BdE 106), ed. C. Berger, G. Clerc, and N. Grimal (Cairo, 1994), 181–88; Fischer, “Notes on Some Texts of the Old Kingdom and Later,” in Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson, ed. P. der Manuelian (Boston, 1996), vol. I, 267–70, fig. 1; Fischer, Varia Nova, 79–83; R. Fazzini in Miscellanea Wilbouriana, 1 (Brooklyn, 1972), 40, fig. 6; Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 163–225; Goedicke, “A Cult Inventory of the Eighth Dynasty from Coptos (Cairo JE 43290)”; Goedicke, “An Inventory from Coptos,” 210–12; L. Habachi, “The Tomb of Princess Nebt of the VIIIth dynasty Discovered at Qift,” SAK 10 (1983): 205–13; M.M.F. Mostafa, “Erster Vorbericht über einen Ersten Zwischenzeit Text aus Kom el-Koffar. Teil I,” ASAE 70 (1984–1985): 419–29; Mostafa, “Kom el-Koffar. Teil II: Datierung und historische Interpretation des Textes B,” ASAE 71 (1987): 169–84; Mostafa, “The Autobiography ‘A’ and a Related Text (Block 52) from the Tomb of Shemai at Kom el-Koffar/Qift,” in Studies in Honor of Ali Radwan (ASAE Supplément 34), ed. Kh. A. Daoud (Cairo, 2005), vol. II, 161–95; G.P. Gilbert, “Three Recently Excavated Funerary Stelae from the Eighth Dynasty tomb of Shemai at Kom el-Momanien, Qift,” JEA 90 (2004): 73–79. 234   Urk. I 148–49; Mostafa, “The autobiography ‘A’.” 235  Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural, 266–77. 236   Papyrus Turin CG 54002: A. Roccati, “Una lettera inedita dell’Antico Regno”; Strudwick, Texts from the Pyramid Age, 179.



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However, as stated before, the end of the Old Kingdom was precipitated by political circumstances still poorly understood.237 Rebellions arose, quite significantly, in regions strategically situated within networks of international exchange, like Elephantine and Edfu (the ‘house of Khuu’ mentioned in Ankhtifi’s inscription) and the area around Thebes and Coptos (connected to the Red Sea through Wadi Hammamat). In fact, the Elephantine elites appear to have been involved in private international trade activities (including not only Nubia, but also the Mediterranean) since the 6th dynasty,238 an activity they continued to perform during the First Intermediate Period.239 If these areas (to which the northeastern Delta could be added) began concentrating wealth to the detriment of Memphis, and also began seeking a greater autonomy, the reaction of the other nomes, not to mention the central power, could well have been hostile, thus inaugurating a period of internal fights, political division, and emerging royal powers (Dara,240 Thebes, Ezbet Rushdi)241 but, quite surprisingly, concomitant with greater levels of wealth and economic autonomy in the provincial world. The fading central power of the late Old Kingdom brought with it the decline of its administrative organization in the South as well as of the model of honorific distinctions formerly bestowed on local leaders. New values appeared in the South and, with the birth of the Theban kingdom and the reunification of the country, a new system was instituted.242

237   J.C. Moreno García, Egipto en el Imperio Antiguo (2650–2150 a. C.) (Barcelona, 2004), 271–300; Moreno García, “El Primer Período Intermedio,” in El antiguo Egipto: Sociedad, economía, política, ed. J.M. Parra (Madrid, 2009), 181–208; R. Müller-Wollermann, Krisenfaktoren im ägyptischen Staat des ausgehenden Alten Reiches (Tübingen, 1986); K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Der Untergang des Alten Reiches,” Or 79 (2010): 273–303. 238  I. Förstner-Müller and D. Raue, “Elephantine and the Levant,” in Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer, ed. E.-M. Engel, V. Müller, and U. Hartung (Wiesbaden, 2008), 127–48. 239  E. Edel, Die Felsgräbernekropole der Qubbet el-Hawa bei Assuan. I. Abteilung, Bd. 3 (Paderborn, 2008), 1743–44. 240  R. Weill, Dara: Campagnes de 1946–1948 (Cairo, 1958). 241   Cf. the reliefs of a certain king Weni: M. Bietak and J. Dorner, “Der Tempel und die Siedlung des Mittleren Reiches bei Ezbet ‘Ruschdi: Grabungsvorbericht 1996,” ÄuL 8 (1998): 9–49; P. Janosi, “Reliefierte Kalksteinblöcke aus dem Tempel der 12. Dynastie bei ‘Ezbet Rushdi el-Saghira (Tell el-Dabʿa,” ÄuL 8 (1998): 51–81. 242  Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, 1–92.

Kings, viziers, and courtiers: executive power in The third millennium B.C.* Miroslav Bárta** Introduction From a modern perspective, the evolution of ancient Egypt’s administration can be viewed as a result of the appearance and growth of the state and its inherent characteristics, which manifest its unique status, power, and ideology through written, visual, artistic, and architectural means. The creation of an administrative apparatus was due in large measure to an increase in state expenses—which were largely identical with the expenses of the king and the royal family—and the proliferation of elites at court. In both cases, a need for representation of the power and status of the king, his family, and the ruling class played a fundamental role. At the same time, the growing political and economic control of the country enabled the king to maintain his symbolic position and divine status nationwide, as well as to promote and finance his family, the court, and loyal officials. These requirements provided the framework in which the forms and principles of ancient Egyptian executive power and administration developed. The development of the administration will be described in this chapter by means of an examination of three different, yet deeply interconnected spheres of the state’s principal sectors: king and kingship, viziers and the top central administration, and courtiers and administrators of lower rank. Given the fact that Egypt was for most of her existence dominated by a rural infrastructure, with only a few full-fledged cities and centers of administration, the analyses of the institution of kingship and of the central administration of the royal

* The preparation of this study was supported by a grant no. P405/11/1873 provided by the Grant Agency of the Czech Republic. ** I express my thanks to Nigel Strudwick, who kindly provided me with many useful recommendations during the preparatory stage of the article.

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Residence represent basic elements that enable better understanding of the evolution of the state and its administration.1 Research on ancient Egyptian kingship is essential for a proper understanding of ancient Egyptian society, in which it was the most central topic. It is thanks to the recent magisterial studies of D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman and of J. Baines and N. Yoffee that we better understand the role of the king and the institution of kingship in the Old Kingdom.2 According to Baines and Yoffee, order, legitimacy, and wealth are best suited to characterize the major trends in the development of ancient Egyptian society dominated by the notion of kingship.3 The concept of order encompasses the basic characteristics of the ideology of the state and its structure and serves as a self-explanatory definition of the set of rules and norms underlying practically all aspects of the society. Legitimacy is then “the institutionalisation of people’s acceptance of, involvement in, and contribution towards order.” Wealth emerges as a formal expression of the order and legitimacy manifested in “. . . hugely extravagant storage spaces, both for this world and for the next.”4 At the same time, we should not forget that the administration of the ancient Egyptian state operated in a different manner from that in which modern states’ administrative apparatuses do. The state in Egypt developed out of a nuclear, segmentary system arranged in a hierarchic

1   J.J. Janssen, “The Early State in Egypt,” in The Early State, ed. H.J. Claessen, P. Skalník (The Hague, 1978), 216; J.A. Wilson, “Egypt through the New Kingdom,” in City Invincible: A Symposium on Urbanization and Cultural Development in the Ancient Near East Held at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, December 4–7, 1958, ed. C.H. Kraeling and R. McC. Adams (Chicago, 1960), 124–64. For the latest overview and evidence see K.A. Bard, “Royal Cities and Cult Centers, Administrative Towns, and Workmen’s Settlements in Ancient Egypt,” in The Ancient City: New Perspectives on Urbanism in the Old and New World, eds. J. Marcus and J.A. Sabloff (Santa Fe, 2010), 165–82. For the most essential works on administration in the Old Kingdom consult W. Helck, Untersuchungen zu den Beamtentiteln des ägyptischen alten Reiches (Glückstadt, 1954); K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom: The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties (Chicago, 1960); N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom: The Highest Titles and Their Holders, (London, 1985). 2  D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman, eds., Ancient Egyptian Kingship (Leiden, 1995); J. Baines and N. Yoffee, “Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia,” in Archaic States, ed. G.M. Feinman and J. Marcus (Santa Fe, 1998). 3   Baines and Yoffee, “Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia”, 235. 4   J. Baines and N. Yoffee, “Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth: Setting the Terms,” in Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient States, ed. J.E. Richards and M. Van Buren (Cambridge, 2000), 14–15.



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structure whereby individual segments were largely similar in terms of their organization. Max Weber coined the term ­patrimonial household, which still fits best what we understand as the Old ­Kingdom state.5 However unfounded it may seem, the most critical factor in establishing the kingship of the unified country and the basic pillar of the central administration was a single phenomenon: the founding of the White Walls, Memphis, at the beginning of the First Dynasty by the legendary Menes. The first attestations of its existence are indicated by the archaeological finds in North Saqqara, where the oldest tomb dates to the reign of Hor Aha.6 This is precisely the time when the central administration seems to have begun to develop. Based on the available evidence, the third millennium executive system developed in four general stages: Stage 1 (First–Third Dynasties), Stage 2 (Fourth Dynasty), Stage 3 (Fifth Dynasty, down to the reign of Nyuserra), and Stage 4 (reign of Nyuserra to the end of the Sixth Dynasty).7 This division roughly parallels the development scheme elaborated by J. Baines for the use of writing during the third millennium B.C.8 For the sake of clarity it is indispensable to specify the group(s) of officials that will be dealt with in the following section. By default we may call them ‘elite’ in the sense that it applies to a group or groups of administrators that hold executive power (vested in different forms).9 These elites were primarily in charge of maintaining the order which

5  M. Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology (Berkeley, 1978); M. Lehner, “Fractal House of the Pharaoh: Ancient Egypt as a Complex Adaptive System, a Trial Formulation,” in Dynamics in Human and Primate Societies: Agent-based Modeling of Social and Spatial Processes, ed. T.A. Kohler and G.J. Gumerman (New York, 2000), 275–353. Compare also J.D. Schloen, The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol: Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, 2001).  6   J. Baines, “Origins of Egyptian Kingship,” in Ancient Egyptian Kingship, ed. D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman (Leiden, 1995), 127; W.B. Emery, Great Tombs of the First Dynasty, 3 vols. (Cairo, 1949); Emery, Archaic Egypt (Baltimore, 1962).  7   For the absolute dates I follow chronology published in E. Hornung, R. Krauss, D. Warburton, and M. Eaton-Krauss, Ancient Egyptian Chronology (Leiden, 2006), 490– 91: Early Dynastic Period—2900–2545 B.C. (First Dynasty 2900–2730, Second Dynasty 2730–2590, Third Dynasty 2592–2544 B.C.), Old Kingdom—ca. 2543–2120 B.C. (Fourth Dynasty 2543–2436, Fifth Dynasty 2435–2306, Sixth Dynasty 2305–2118 B.C.).  8   J. Baines, Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt (Oxford, 2007), 99–110. Stages 3 and 4 correspond with Dynasties 5 and 6, which for the sake of his argument Baines considers a single period.  9   J. Scott, “Modes of Power and the Reconceptualisation of Elites,” in Remembering Elites, ed. M. Savage and K. Willems (Malden, 2008), 27–43. On elites in ancient Egypt specifically see Baines and Yoffee, “Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia,” 199–260.

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operated on the principle of maat.10 The top representative of this body was, of course, the king. On the basis of this principle operated offices of individual administrators and by fulfilling their duties they were thought to be co-conquerors, together with the pharaoh, of the powers of Chaos. This characteristic is of pivotal importance, as it occurs in times of both state proliferation (such as the periods of the Old, Middle, and New Kingdoms) internal decline (Intermediate Periods). The disappearance of the ancient Egyptian civilization began at the moment when the elites ceased to maintain maat as one of their primary goals. Administration during the First, Second, and Third Dynasties (2900–2544 B.C.) The evidence for the administration during the First and Second Dynasties is severely limited, as is the number of known offices and officials for the relevant periods. The meager sources consist mainly of jar tags, seal impressions, stele, and incipient tomb decoration, including inscriptions starting in the late Third Dynasty.11 Exactly in this period emerge the highest ranking titles associated with the uppermost group of people within the state. It is logical to suppose that many incipient structures of the future administration passed from the Predynastic into the Early Dynastic period, undergoing certain ­modifications.12 Yet we can make a clear distinction between them: from the beginning of the First Dynasty we observe the apparent growth in numbers of the titles held by leading officials of the period, most of them probably relatives of the king, a phenomenon which seems to have peaked during the Fourth Dynasty.13 Three principal groups of titles may be discerned. The first group may be called ‘ranking titles’ (Rangtitel), which were used to denote ‘membership’ in a certain social group. For instance, the titles (j)r(j) pʿt or ḥ ¡t(j)-ʿ were used to indicate that their holders belonged to the highly 10   For this concept consult J. Assmann, Maʿat: Gerechtigkeit und Unsterblichkeit im alten Ägypten (Munich, 1990). 11  P. Kaplony, Die Inschriften der ägyptischen Frühzeit (ÄA 8; Wiesbaden, 1963); Kaplony, Die Inschriften der ägyptischen Frühzeit. Supplement (ÄA 8; Wiesbaden, 1964); I. Regulski, A Palaeographic Study of Early Writing in Egypt (OLA 195; Leuven, 2010); J. Kahl, N. Kloth, and U. Zimmermann, Die Inschriften der 3. Dynastie: Eine Bestandsaufnahme (ÄA 56; Wiesbaden, 1995). 12  T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt (London, 1999), 114–15. 13   Janssen, “The Early State in Egypt,” 219.



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privileged elite of the society of the day. Along the same lines may be interpreted titles such as mjtr, smr, and ḫ tm(w) bjtj. The ‘functional titles’ (Beauftragungstitel), on the other hand, were more descriptive and indicated a certain duty (or group of duties) and a formalized office executed by a specific functionary who was in charge of a number of subordinates.14 Each such a title implied certain economic income and it is for this reason that ancient Egyptian officials tended to accumulate as many state titles/functions as possible. Finally, so-called ‘institutional titles’ were those that specified a particular institution (such as ‘overseer of the treasury’).15 To these three substantial groups we may add ‘priestly titles’, which operated on the same logic, but within a sacral context (see the chapter by H. Vymazalová in this volume). Yet in many ways, especially in the royal funerary context, these titles, as well as their hierarchy, reflected the profane sphere.16 Most of them may be classified as ‘provisioning’ titles.17 Despite the meager evidence, it is still possible to suggest some tentative contours of the incipient administrative structure.18 The top of the society was represented by the king and his family (pat). The intermediary between them and the rest of the population was probably the vizier, who was originally also of a royal origin. The basic departments of administration of the state were represented by the royal household and the Hofstaat, the treasury, which was responsible for taxation and collection of revenues, and, finally, a very simple regional/ local government of Upper and Lower Egypt and the deserts. The royal household consisted of pr-nzwt and royal works, royal economic foundations, a palace, and ceremonial matters. The treasury, with a chancellor at the top, was responsible for manufacturing products for the royal house, as well as their storage, provisioning and redistribution.19 Finally, the regional and local administration covered most parts of the country, which was divided into individual districts and deserts. 14  W. Helck, “Titel und Titulaturen,” Lexikon der Ägyptologie VI (Wiesbaden, 1986), cols. 596–601. 15  P. Andrassy, “Zur Struktur der Verwaltung des Alten Reiches,” ZÄS 118 (1991):1–2. 16  M. Baud, “Le palais en temple. Le culte funéraire des rois d’Abousir,” in Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2000, ed. M. Bárta and J. Krejčí (Prague, 2000), 347–60. 17  Helck, “Titel und Titulaturen,” col. 597. 18  W. Helck, Untersuchungen zur Thinitenzeit (ÄA 45; Wiesbaden, 1987); Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt, 145, fig. 4.6. 19  S. Desplancques, L’institution du trésor en Egypte des origines à la fin du Moyen Empire (Paris, 2006), passim.

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Lower Egypt nomes were run by administrators called ʿd̠-mr, Upper Egypt by administrators called ḥ q¡. Finally, desert regions were controlled by officials with the title ʿd̠-mr (n) zmjt. Below the king, atop an imaginary administrative pyramid, came members of the royal family, who were, most frequently, identical with the highest administrators of the country, lesser officials (of non-royal origin), scribes, priests, and other court specialists. The lower echelons belonged then to workers, craftsmen, farmers, laborers, and servants at the bottom of this hierarchic ladder.20 What is of essential importance here is that despite the unquestionable symbolic dominance of Abydos during the First and Second Dynasties, most of the top officials of the state (i.e., members of the royal family) were buried in Saqqara. According to E.C. Köhler, there may even have existed a rather strict hierarchy within the royal family whereby lesser members were buried in Helwan and the more important members in North Saqqara.21 The tags from oil jars found in tombs of the First and Second Dynasties indicate that from the very first stages of the incipient state there existed an administrative division between Upper and Lower Egypt. This is actually a tradition, the origins of which can be traced back to predynastic Egypt.22 In this period the seat of the ruler was still located in Upper Egypt, in the area of This and Hierakonpolis. It is very likely that the king maintained several palaces scattered throughout the country. These were built in traditional areas of concentrations of power, economic and political centers of the country that had survived from the late Predynastic period. The administrative structure, however, remained much more limited. We have evidence for an administrative division that used seals featuring wild animals which was probably in charge of wild game supplies. Additionally, there was a division of scribes who were in charge of most sectors of the existing administration. What is important is that members of the royal family each had their own households.23 The cornerstone of the state’s administration was the educated scribes. It is thus the development of scribal hierarchy that best reflects the growing complexity of what we call the early Egyptian state 20  See E.C. Köhler, “Early Dynastic Society in Memphis,” in Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer (MENES 5), ed. E. Engel, V. Müller, and U. Hartung (Wiesbaden, 2008), 384, fig. 2. 21   Köhler, “Early Dynastic Society in Memphis,” 389. 22  G. Dreyer, U. Hartung, and F. Pumpenmeier, Umm el-Qaab I: Das prädynastische Königsgrab U-j und seine frühen Schriftzeugnisse (AV 86; Mainz, 1998). 23  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 212.



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administration. The group of (professional) scribes was growing from the very beginning of the unified state, if not even earlier.24 Scribes are first attested in written sources at the end of the First Dynasty. The evidence for a developed hierarchy of scribes dates to the Third Dynasty, when, for instance, the title of ‘chief of scribes’ is attested. According to Baines and Eyre, only about one percent of the population was literate.25 Based on the population estimates amounting to 100,000–900,000 around 3000 B.C., the army of scribes would have numbered in the hundreds.26 Regulski shows rather convincingly that during the Early dynastic period only two significant centers existed: the area of This/Abydos in the south and the ‘White Walls’ in the north. Comparing the number of scribes involved in the preparation of labels for burial equipment of some the most important tombs of the time, she emphasizes the pace at which the development of the scribal community proceeded. Whereas only two scribes took part in providing the inscriptions for the late predynastic Abydos tomb U-j, no fewer than nine scribes are attested from mastaba S 3357 at Saqqara (reign of Aha). Moreover, they were specialized according to region for the products from Lower or Upper Egypt. Finally, the labels of the inscribed stone vessels celebrating the sed festival that originate from the Djoser’s complex represent the work of more than fifty scribes. A major reform is discernible during the reign of Den. In the archaeological record his ‘reforms’ are reflected in an enormous rise in the number of officials’ tombs in Saqqara and Abu Rawash. This shows that the growing bureaucratic apparatus had reached a point where essential reorganization was unavoidable. It is certainly significant that the title of ‘the king of Upper and Lower Egypt’ was ­introduced by this ruler.27 He established his principal seat, called the ‘Seat of

24  I. Regulski, “Scribes in Early Dynastic Egypt,” in Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer (MENES 5), ed. E. Engel, V. Müller, and U. Hartung (Wiesbaden, 2008), 581–611. 25   J. Baines and Ch. Eyre, “Four Notes on Literacy,” Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, ed. J. Baines (Oxford, 2007), 67. 26   K.W. Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt: A Study in Cultural Ecology (Chicago, 1976), 83, Table 4; B. Mortensen, “Change in the Settlement Pattern and Population in the Beginning of the Historical Period,” Ägypten und Levante 2 (1991), 11–37. For the problematic nature of these estimates, however, see D. O’Connor, “A Regional Population in Egypt to circa 600 B.C.,” in Population Growth: Anthropological Implications, ed. B. Spooner (Cambridge, 1972), 78–100. 27  P. Andrassy, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Staat des Alten Reiches und seinen Institutionen (Internet-Beiträge zur Ägyptologie und Sudanarchäologie XI; Berlin, 2008), 9.

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­ arpooning Horus’, which was probably located in Buto, and also h founded a domain the specific purpose of which was to support the requirements of his court. This indicates that the number of persons involved in administration of the country grew so rapidly that it called for specific measures to be taken for purposes of their maintenance. Beside Den, we receive information about palaces belonging to Djer and Adjib. The references to them indicate that they played a prominent role with regard to the economic and administrative aspects of the early state. On the other hand, individual households of the royal family members disappear in the reign of Den, as does the department of wild game. The state becomes more sophisticatedly organized and its administration more complex, as is indicated by various domains called ḥ wt. Moreover, the first attestation of the ‘royal treasurer’ (the ḫ tmw bjtj Hemaka) comes from Den’s reign.28 The inscriptional evidence from the tomb of Khasekhemwy in Abydos allows us to suppose that the earliest nomes also developed in this period.29 From the First Dynasty we also have the first attestations of the spatial division of the country into smaller economic units. These were represented by domains and estates. The earliest domains seem to have come into existense as early as during NIIIa2 (around 3200–3100 B.C.), i.e., prior to the unification of the country, as indicated by the ivory tags from Abydos tomb U-j. On several of them there appear toponyms of Buto and Bubastis, which make it clear that the influence/dominion of the ruler Scorpion extended even to some parts of the Delta at this time.30 During the first dynasties, domains seem to have developed throughout the country, including the Fayum and Delta, which were important for their agricultural potential and the production of cattle, respectively.31 The earliest estates (called ḥ wt) can tentatively be dated to the mid-First Dynasty as well. These trends

 W.B. Emery, Excavations at Saqqara: The Tomb of Hemaka (Cairo, 1938).  E.-M. Engel, “Die Entwicklung des Systems der ägyptischen Nomoi in der Frühzeit,” MDAIK 62 (2006): 151–60; see also W. Helck, Die altägyptischen Gaue (BTAVO 5; Wiesbaden, 1974). 30  Dreyer, Hartung, Punpenmeier, Umm el-Qaab I; H. Papazian, “Domain of Pharaoh: The Structure and Components of the Economy of the Old Kingdom” (PhD dissertation, Chicago, 2005), 89–93. 31   J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: Économie, administration et organisation territoriale (Paris, 1999). 28 29



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had an immediate impact on the evolution of executive power in the provinces, which developed differently in Upper and Lower Egypt.32 The resources for the palace and the Hofstaat of the king were channeled through a treasury. The references to it shift from pr-ḥ d̠ to pr-dšr during the First and Second Dynasties, the reasons for the change being far from clear. At the same time, we have quite a few attestations of specific economic departments associated with the palace. We can thus agree with Helck that during this period the administration of the country was far from centralistic—there was rather a palace as an economic and administrative center of the king and his officials.33 It has been estimated by J. Baines that the king was surrounded by a small group of trusted officials, about six at a time, belonging to the pat. And these pats, in turn, were served by a large group of retainers, as indicated by many secondary burials around early North Saqqara tombs.34 As early as the First Dynasty we also observe the formation of local elites, as indicated by the existence of several wealthy cemeteries of the time, such as Abu Rawash, Giza, Tarkhan, Helwan (here including even some ‘lesser’ members of the royal family) and others.35 Significant changes accompanied the beginning of the Second Dynasty and may be connected with the fact that several kings of the period resided in Inebu-hedj, later known as Memphis. Due to this fact most of the royal palaces disappear from our record. The establishment of a permanent seat of the central government had a significant impact on the further evolution of administration. We observe this process with the help of residential cemeteries, which started to develop in the Saqqara and Abusir area from the early years of the First Dynasty.36 The central role of the residence was solidified when kings of the Second Dynasty set up their mortuary complexes in its vicinity, a tradition which survived, with some modifications, down to the end of the Old Kingdom. The central position in administration was taken over by the pr-nzwt, which replaced the administrative role of the palace, and jz-d̠f¡, a central provisioning institution. The existence of the last named  E. Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung bis zum Ende des Alten Reiches (HÄB 1; Hildesheim, 1976), 36–63. 33  W. Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Alten Ägypten im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend vor Chr. (Leiden, 1975), 30. 34   Baines, “Origins of Egyptian Kingship,” 133. 35   Köhler, “Early Dynastic society in Memphis,” 389. 36  W. Helck, “Saqqara, Nekropolen der 1.–3. Dynastie,” LdÄ V (1984), cols. 387–99. 32

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bureau indicates that redistribution had become a critical factor in central administration. In the provinces there emerged many domains and estates that became cores of local administration. The pr-nzwt institution has been known from the mid-First Dynasty (stela of Setka, reign of Djet).37 By the end of the Second Dynasty we can identify ‘House of the king’ with the seat of the central administration. That registration, sealing, and redistribution were of pivotal concern from that point on is confirmed by the appearance of pr ḥ rj wd̠b, i.e., ‘House of the one who is over the allocations’.38 Generally, it may be said that during the Early Dynastic period it is very difficult, if not impossible, to make a precise distinction between the administration of the royal court and that of the state. The ‘Ten great ones of Upper Egypt’ may be viewed as a surviving form of the original nobles that helped the future king to unite the country and whose influence was to some degree preserved in the form of a council to the king. Yet already at this stage we discern some basic components of administration that would later on become characteristic of the central administration of the Old Kingdom. These include jurisdiction, administration of the country’s economy, administration of products and grain, construction, expeditions, and the administration of the provinces.39 The Fourth Dynasty (2543–2436 B.C.) The Fourth Dynasty undoubtedly represents the apogee of third-millennium Egyptian civilization, as it was during this period that most iconic monuments of the time came into being. At the same time it may be considered a major transition period between the ‘early’ and ‘later’ forms of kingship and administration. This period may be characterized by its monumental state projects, peaking in the construction of gigantic afterlife existence residencies and tombs of the kings, which amply reflect the priorities of the time and likewise the priorities of the state.40 In contrast to the prevailing opinion that equates the building  Andrassy, Untersuchungen, 11.  A.H. Gardiner, “The Mansion of Life and the Master of King’s Largess,” JEA 24 (1938), 84. 39  Andrassy, “Zur Struktur der Verwaltung des Alten Reiches,” 4, fig. 3. 40  Z. Hawass, “The Programs of the Royal Funerary Complexes of the Fourth Dynasty,” in Ancient Egyptian Kingship, ed. D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman (Leiden, 37 38



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of monumental constructions such as pyramids and temples of the Fourth Dynasty rulers with state development, already in 1945 V.G. Childe emphasized that “extraordinary . . . royal tombs . . ., will be found to belong to a single transitional stage in the development of the societies concerned—to the period when the kinship organization . . . was breaking down to make room for a territorial State. . . .”41 Surprisingly enough, these words suit the situation very well. We may classify the Fourth Dynasty as a last step towards a full-fledged, complex state administration as it emerged by the end of the Fourth and at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty. Following the essential concept of order, legitimacy, and wealth, the first kings of the Fourth Dynasty further elaborated and strengthened the symbolic forms of their unique status. This was achieved by means of their expansion of the royal titulary and by means of the development of forms of monumental architecture. The Fourth Dynasty is also a period for which we have comparatively more informative sources on the administration of the country. Yet the basic hierarchical structure remains the same for the most part of the dynasty. The decisive group of administrators, as well as the principal office of the vizier, were occupied by members of the king’s family. At the same time we can analyze the social positions of a rather large (compared to the previous period) group of officials by means of their tombs and the related inscriptional and iconographic evidence. The elite of the Old Kingdom (Fourth–Sixth Dynasties) was, as in the case of all subsequent periods, literate. It has been estimated by J. Baines and Ch. Eyre that the ruling class of the day consisted of about 150 officials at any one time. These may be characterized by their monumental, decorated, and inscribed tombs (the construction of about ten of which was started each year).42 There is no doubt that the massive investments into state symbols instigated development of the administration and taxation. It is from this point on that we have explicit data documenting an intensive evolution of the state. From the reign of Sneferu we have attested the first

1995), 221–62. For this policy in detail see B. Trigger, “Monumental Architecture: A Thermodynamic Explanation of Symbolic Behavior,” World Archaeology 22 (1990): 119–32. 41  V.G. Childe, “Directional Changes in Funerary Practices during 50,000 Years”, Man 3–4, (1945): 13–19. 42   Baines and Eyre, “Four Notes on Literacy,” 66–67.

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vizier with a fully-fledged titulary. The vizier was second to the king in the state administration and was in fact the head of executive power in the administration.43 Despite this, the evidence for the early viziers is still relatively meager. The very first explicit attestation of this office may be found on a seal impression from Saqqara tomb S 3504, which dates to the end of the First Dynasty.44 Down to the end of the Fourth Dynasty this office was held exclusively by royal princes.45 The principal duty was administration of the country in all important aspects (see below); at the same time the vizier stood at the top of the executive, played a dominant role in jurisdiction, and was in charge of the temples in the country.46 From the very beginning the vizier was also in charge of all royal works, including the mortuary complex of the king. We are well informed about the principal characteristics of the office of the vizier from later sources, although the other offices of holders of the title during the Old Kingdom indicate that the situation was very similar from the beginning of this institution.47 Diachronic analysis of the vizierial titles of the Old Kingdom period shows rather clearly several major modifications in the definition of the office. The titles associated with the office demonstrate that this institution also had a massive symbolic background. For fifteen viziers—princes—of the Fourth Dynasty, the most characteristic titles were those of ḥ ¡tj-ʿ, (j)r(j)-pʿt, smr wʿtj, z¡-nzwt, and its variants, and ḫ tmw bjtj. Most of the viziers also held the legal title of wr 5 (m) pr-d̠ḥ wtj; seven viziers also acted as inspectors of the palace; and six viziers were in charge of all royal works. All this is evidence of a very intimate relationship with the king. Starting in the second part of the Fourth Dynasty, we discern significant changes in many areas of society. The huge pyramid constructions in Giza resulted in parsimonious policy in other spheres of the society, such as provisioning for cults of high officials, including members of the royal family. The tombs tended to be built on standardized 43  E. Martin-Pardey, “Wesir, Wesirat,” in Lexikon der Ägyptologie VI (Wiesbaden, 1986), cols. 1227–35. 44  Helck, Thinitenzeit, 218. 45  Helck, Beamtentitel, 134. 46  Martin-Pardey, Wesir, Wesirat, col. 1229. 47  G.P.F. van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier: Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom (London, 1988). For the Old Kingdom sources see Strudwick, Administration, 328–34.



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ground plans during the reign of Sneferu and Khufu, their decoration was temporarily limited very strictly, and provisioning for their tomb equipment and mortuary cult was downsized and economized.48 By the end of the Fourth Dynasty, it seems, the limits of the current system of administering the country were reached. The state had grown out of the former limited proportions and it had become almost impossible to run it with a mere handful of officials. It was, therefore, necessary to initiate limited changes and slowly open state positions to officials of non-royal origin. This may be demonstrated by the inscription of Ptahshepses, who describes how he was brought up at the royal court (probably one of the means employed by the kings to ensure the loyalty of future officials) and married to a royal daughter by the name of Khamaat.49 B. Schmitz was able to show that at the end of the Fourth and at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty (down to the reign of Sahura) the office of vizier had been held by several men who were not sons of the king, but who belonged to the wider circle of the royal family. These included officials Duaenra, Seshathotep Heti, and Babaf.50 A similar transitional period can be attested in other spheres of the administration as well.51 As a consequence, officials of non-royal origin took over the administration of the country. The Fifth Dynasty Down to the Reign of Nyuserra It is thus only during the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties that we can discern real proliferation of the central administration and its bureaucratic elite.52 Whereas the Fourth Dynasty may be characterized as a period of monuments generating power and identity, the following period may 48  Helck, Politische Gegensätze, 19–26; M. Bárta, “Pottery Inventory and the Beginning of the IVth Dynasty,” GM 149 (1995): 15–24; P. Der Manuelian, Slab Stelae of the Giza Necropolis (New Haven and Philadelphia, 2003) 167–69; A.M. Roth, “Social Change in the Fourth Dynasty: The Spatial Organisation of Pyramids, Tombs, and Cemeteries,” JARCE 30 (1993): 33–55. 49  P. Dorman, “The Biographical Inscription of Ptahshepses from Saqqara: A Newly identified fragment,” JEA 88 (2002): 95–110. 50  Schmitz, Königssohn, 166; Strudwick, Administration, 312–13. 51  M. Bárta, “The Title Inspector of the Palace during the Egyptian Old Kingdom,” ArOr 1999/1 (1991): 12–14. 52  M. Bárta, “Kingship during the Old Kingdom,” in Experiencing Power—Generating Authority: Cosmos and Politics in the Ideology of Kingship in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, ed. J. Hill, P. Jones, A. Morales (Philadelphia, 2013).

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be more positively considered a ‘standard state phase’. In a sociological sense, it is in this period that the definition of ‘rule’ includes increasing depersonalization of the function of the king, formalization of the administration, and intensive integration of the country.53 At the same time, the kingship became explicitly ‘socially obliged’, which means that large groups of non-royal officials were involved in the administration of the state and penetrated even its highest offices, including that of vizier. This trend accelerated from the reign of Nyuserra on, when it was not the king, but kinship that frequently decided one’s position in the administration hierarchy, as many prestigious offices in the state became hereditary. This development is clearly to be connected with the growing complexity of state administration, which was becoming increasingly occupied with provincial administrative matters as the territorial expansion of the state proceeded.54 With the onset of the Fifth Dynasty, dramatic change also occurred in the definition of the office of the vizier, a result of the fact that it had become accessible to officials of non-royal origin. The viziers ceased to be called king’s sons, yet maintained some of the most important honorific titles, such as ḥ ¡tj-ʿ, smrt wʿtj, and to some extent also ( j)r( j)pʿt. From this point on the viziers occupied offices that were of strategic importance for the state and its maintenance and which were not so discernible during the Fourth Dynasty (at least they are not attested in their titulatures), such as supreme responsibility for jurisdiction, scribes, and various departments of the state archives, central granaries, and treasury. These are (j)m( j)-r ḥ wt wrt and ( j)m( j)-r ḥ wt wrt 6, (j)m(j)-r zš ʿ-nzwt, (j)m(j)-r k¡t nbt (nt) nzwt, ( j)m( j)-r šnwty, and (j)m(j)-r prwj-ḥ d̠. Quite frequently the viziers held them all together. N. Strudwick shows clearly that they demonstrate the five basic pillars of the state administration: jurisdiction, record keeping, state construction of the projects, tax collection, and storage of surplus products and redistribution.55 These principal components are explicitly attested in the tomb of the vizier Nebkauhor as well. Nebkauhor provides us with a rare enumeration of the principal offices of the

53  H. Popitz, Phänomene der Macht: Autorität—Herrschaft—Gewalt—Technik (Tübingen, 1986), 42. 54   J.C. Moreno García, “L’organisation sociale de l’agriculture dans l’Egypte pharaonique pendant l’ancien empire (2650–2150 avant j.-c.),” JESHO 44 (2001): 411–50. 55  Strudwick, Administration, 172ff.



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central ­administration of the state, which consist of ḥ wt-wrt, granaries, treasury, archives and the records office.56 The viziers were then relying largely on the so-called srw-officials, whose tasks consisted of tax collection and recruitment of the workforce in the provinces. It is important to stress that these officials belonged to the central administration and not to the provincial one.57 At the same time, E. Martin-Pardey made a convincing case that the srw-officials also played a significant role in juridical aspects of the state administration. The conclusion is that in the Old Kingdom we have more often than not executive and legal aspects united in the same titles.58 With the onset of the Fifth Dynasty the function and importance of provincial temples and religious foundations also became more significant.59 It seems that by putting more explicit emphasis on temples now distributed all over the country and their endowments, the kings aimed at more comprehensive control of the country by means of expansion of their political and economic control.60 A precursor of this policy may be found in the small, symbolic pyramids set up by Snofru at politically important sites.61 As H. Papazian pointed out in his 2005 study, the temples became an indispensable part of the state’s economic and administrative structure.62 They also played a major role in maintaining the status of the king and helped to preserve his supremacy. With this trend came the building of new settlements, which seems to gain in intensity starting with the reign of Userkaf.63 Hand in hand with the growing complexity of the state, some individuals managed to secure certain spheres of influence within the administration. Currently, we are able to track this process back to 56  H. Goedicke, Die privaten Rechtsinschriften aus dem Alten Reich (Vienna, 1970), 83; E. Martin-Pardey, “Richten im Alten Reich und die sr-Beamten,” in Essays in Egyptology in honor of Hans Goedicke, ed. B.M. Bryan and D. Lorton, (San Antonio, 1994), 158. 57  Martin-Pardey “Richten im Alten Reich und die sr-Beamten,” 163. 58  Ibid., 164–65. 59  R. Bussmann, Die Provinztempel Ägyptens von der 0. bis zur 11. Dynastie: Archäologie und Geschichte einer gesellschaftlichen Institution zwischen Residenz und Provinz (Leiden, 2010), 509–12. 60   For a similar conclusion see H. Papazian, “The Temple of Ptah and Economic Contacts Between the Memphite Cult Centers in The Fifth Dynasty,” in 8. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung: Interconnections between temples. Warschau, 22.–25. September 2008, ed. M. Dolińska and H. Beinlich, (Wiesbaden, 2010), 137–53. 61  M. Bárta, ‘Location of the Old Kingdom Pyramids in Egypt’, CAJ 15 (2): 181. 62  Papazian, “Domain of Pharaoh”, 1–57. 63  Ibid., 109–17.

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the time of Nyuserra. In this connection it is highly interesting to note that the time between the final years of Menkaura and the beginning of Nyuserra’s rule correspond with the average life expectancy of a high official, as shown by Ptahshepses, who mentioned in his biographical inscription that he started his career under Menkaura and still served even under Nyuserra.64 Based on the latest chronological scheme, this time span is calculated to have lasted for about forty years.65 This is a rather short period given the importance of all the changes we can observe in written and archaeological sources. During the reign of Nyuserra we have also evidence indicating that there was a tendency to favor family members for their future careers in specific offices. Cemetery G 6000 in Giza is a classic example. Officials buried there were concerned primarily with the running of the funerary cults of the kings buried at Giza and at Abusir. The titles of (j)r(j)-(j)ḫ t nzwt, wʿb nzwt, (j)m(j)-r ʿ pr ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, zš pr-md̠¡t, ( j)m( j)-r pr, ḥ m-nt̠r Ḫ wfw, ḥ m-nt̠r S¡ḥ wr ʿ, ḥ m-nt̠r Nfrjrk¡r ʿ, and ḥ m-nt̠r Njwsrrʿ were the most frequently occurring titles shared by Shepseskafankh, Iymery, and Neferbauptah, father, son, and grandson, respectively.66 Similarly, sons of the Abusir vizier Ptahshsepses were also following in the footsteps of their father, despite the fact that they were not able (with the exception of Ptahshepses II) to reach the highest levels of administration. Out of his seven attested sons, most of them bore the courtly titles ‘unique friend’, ‘lector priest’, and ‘servant of the throne’ and two of them also bore the title of ‘inspector of the palace’ and ‘keeper of the diadem’. Only Ptahsepses II, however, attained the office of ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’.67 As a last example we may cite the four generations of the powerful family of Senedjemib Inti buried in Giza. Senedjemib Inti, the actual founder of the ‘dynasty’, who occupied all five typical offices of the vizier, i.e., (j)m(j)-r ḥ wt wrt 6, ( j)m( j)-r zš ʿ-nzwt, (j)m(j)-r k¡t nbt (nt) nzwt, (j)m(j)-r šnwty, and ( j)m( j)-r prwj-ḥ d̠. 64   J.H. Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt: Historical Documents from the Earliest Times to the Persian Conquest, vol. I (Chicago, 1906–1907), 116; Dorman, “The Biographical Inscription of Ptahshepses from Saqqara,” 107; N. Strudwick, Texts from The Pyramid Age (Atlanta, 2005), 303–305 [226]. 65  Hornung, Krauss, Warburton, and Eaton-Krauss, Ancient Egyptian Chronology, 491. 66   K.R. Weeks and Harvard University-Museum of Fine Arts Boston Expedition, Mastabas of Cemetery G 6000: Including G 6010 (Neferbauptah); G 6020 (Iymery); G 6030 (Ity); G 6040 (Shepseskafankh) (Boston, 1994). 67  M. Bárta, “Architectural Innovations in the Development of the Non-Royal Tomb during the Reign of Nyuserra,” in Structure and Significance: Thoughts on Ancient Egyptian Architecture, ed. P. Jánosi (Vienna, 2005), 105–30.



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His son, Senedjemib Mehi, was also vizier, royal master builder in both houses (i.e., in Upper and Lower Egypt), overseer of the two granaries, and overseer of the scribes of royal records. Mehi’s younger brother, Khnumenti, was also appointed to the office of the vizier and his titulary was almost identical with that of Inti. Nekhebu, son of Khnumenti, passed through most of the offices associated with the construction works of the king and reached the peak of his career as overseer of all works of the king. His younger brother had an almost identical career. Finally, two sons of Nekhebu, Ptahshepses Impy and Sabuptah Ibebi, reached the rank of a vizier and both of them were also overseers of all works of the king. Thus we can see that within four generations of a single family five male members reached the highest administrative position within the state and all of them were deeply connected to royal construction projects.68 This is probably one of the most typical examples indicating the symptoms of a declining Egyptian state. The fact that it was the Fifth Dynasty that witnessed a clear and intensive proliferation of titles has already been indicated by Helck.69 An excellent example is the title of (j)r(j) Nḫ n (n) z¡b, which was connected to the central administration, most likely endowed with duties of a juridical nature, and appeared only in the time of Neferirkara or slightly later.70 Significant expansion may also be noted in the sphere of the administration of the royal mortuary complexes and the sun temples, which mark the major part of the history of the Fifth Dynasty. In these particular cases, most of the titles are the priestly ones and are strictly connected either to the cult of the deceased king or the daily rebirth of the sun.71 The same expansion in titles may be observed in more profane offices at the court.72

68  E. Brovarski, The Senedjemib Complex. Part 1, The Mastabas of Senedjemib Inti (G2370), Khnumenti (G2374), and Senedjemib Mehi (G2378) (Boston, 2001), 23–35, 83, 128, and 158. 69  Helck, Beamtentiteln, 29–44, 106–19. 70  V.G. Callender, “À propos the title of r Nḫ n n z¡b,” in Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2000, ed. M. Bárta and J. Krejčí (Prague, 2000), 361–80. 71  M. Baud, “Le palais en temple: Le culte funéraire des rois d’Abousir,” in Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2000, ed. M. Bárta and J. Krejčí (Prague, 2000), 347–60; M. Nuzzolo, “The V Dynasty Sun Temples Personnel: An Overview of Titles and Cult Practise through the Epigraphic Evidence,” SAK 39 (2010): 289–312; M. Bárta, “Abu Gurob,” in Encyclopedia of Ancient History, ed. R. Bagnall, K. Brodersen, C. Champion, A. Erskine, and S. Huebner (Oxford, 2013). 72  See, for instance, M.A. Speidel, Die Friseure des ägyptischen alten Reiches: Eine historisch- prosopographische Untersuchung zu Amt und Titel (jr-šn) (Konstanz, 1990),

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Last but not least, the fact that the state started to be run by officials of non-royal origin caused the proliferation of a specific group of titles beginning with the component ḥ r(j)-sšt¡ ‘keeper of the secrets’. Unlike the Fourth Dynasty, with only eleven attestations of the title, in the Fifth Dynasty we are aware of at least ninety-six holders of the title.73 Given its context and range of duties, it must be supposed that the title was applied to those non-royal officials who replaced former members of the royal family in positions for which (being members of the royal family) this duty was a self-evident mode of behavior. The Fifth and Sixth Dynasties were a period when a new policy of occasional marriages of royal daughters to high, yet non-royal, officials took place. The kings used this policy in order to secure the loyalty of their highest officials, especially, but not exclusively, the viziers.74 The Fifth Dynasty shows an increased interest in the administration of the provinces. Evidence of the origins of provincial administration for the periods preceding the Fifth Dynasty is very limited. In fact, for the Fourth Dynasty the titles of Pehernefer, Netjeraperef, and Metjen show that administrators of Upper Egyptian provinces held the titles of sšm-t¡, ḥ q¡-sp¡t, and (j)m(j)-r wpt, while those of Lower Egypt consisted of ʿd̠-mr, ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, and ( j)m( j)-r wpwt.75 From the Fifth Dynasty onwards we are far better informed about the relationship between the center and the provinces. Unlike previous periods, from the Fifth Dynasty on the provinces were administered by high officials, who had begun to reside there despite their maintaining strong connections with the Residence.76 The principal titles connected with administration of the nomes were ( j)m( j)-r mnww, ( j)m( j)-r njwwt m¡wt, (j)m(j)-r nzwtjw, (j)r(j)-(j)ḫ t nzwt, ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t, ( j)m( j)-r wpwt, and sšm-t¡.77 Not all the ‘nomarchs’ held all the titles and, as was the case in Akhmim, sometimes there were two officials jointly 96–100, for the dating of the title, or P. Piacentini, Les scribes dans la société égyptienne de l’Ancien Empire. Vol. I. Les premières dynasties: Les nécropoles Memphites (Paris, 2002), passim. 73   K.T. Rydström, “Ḥ ry sšt¡ ‘In Charge of Secrets’: The 3000-Year Evolution of a Title,” DE 28 (1994): 86–89. 74  A.B. Lloyd, A.J. Spencer, and A. Khouli, Saqqâra Tombs. 3, The Mastaba of Neferseshemptah (London, 2008), 2. 75  H.G. Fischer, Dendera in the Third Millennium B.C., down to the Theban Domination of Upper Egypt (Locust Valley, 1968), 9. 76  Martin-Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung, 41–108; N. Kanawati and A. McFarlane, Akhmim in the Old Kingdom. Part I: Chronology and Administration (Sydney, 1990), 23–45. 77   Baer, Rank and title in the Old Kingdom, 275; Fischer, Dendera, 10.



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a­ dministering a nome, each of them with different responsibilities: Menuankh being responsible for the province and the local temple, whereas Duamenu was in charge of land administration.78 In the Sixth Dynasty the nomarchs are designated only as ḥ r( j)-tp ʿ¡.79 The Late Fifth and the Sixth Dynasties Probably as a consequence of the previous development, king Djedkara introduced significant changes into the administration of the country. These included a new policy towards the nomarchs, which meant that each now became responsible exclusively for his own nome.80 At the same time Djedkara (or perhaps even Nyuserra) founded the new office of ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’, whose duty was to control, on behalf of the king, regions south of Memphis.81 The title itself is indicative of the deepening interest paid by the kings to the southern provinces and to their administration precisely at the time when high officials of the central administration started to reside and also (equally importantly) to be buried there. This policy, as well as most of the administrative reforms of the king, was simply a reaction to the new situation, in which the centrally organized state began to experience more serious disintegrative tendencies.82 Along the same lines we may explain the slightly earlier appearance (starting in the reign of Neferirkara) of the office of (j)m(j)-r zšw ʿ-nzwt ‘overseer of scribes of royal documents’.83 Djedkara moreover established three administrative centers for the control of the most economically important nomes of Upper Egypt (10, 15, and 20). It was also in his reign that the officials start to be buried in the provinces. Djedkara also had to fight powerful courtiers. It is probably for this reason that we have indications that from this time on there existed two parallel viziers, the principal one in Memphis and the second one in the provinces.84 Based on the statistics ­presented by N. Strudwick, there were some thirteen viziers buried in the   Kanawati and McFarlane, Akhmim, 26–27.  Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung, 111. 80   Fischer, Dendera, 12. 81  Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung, 152. 82  N. Kanawati, Governmental Reforms in Old Kingdom Egypt (Warminster, 1980). 83  Strudwick, Administration, 200–201, Table 12; Andrassy, “Zur Struktur der Verwaltung des Alten Reiches,” 7. 84  Helck, Beamntentitel, 136ff.; Strudwick, Administration, 321–28; E. MartinPardey, “Die Verwaltung im Alten Reich: Grenzen und Möglichkeiten von Untersuchungen zu diesem Thema,” BiOr 46 (1989): 546–47. 78 79

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provinces during the late Fifth and the Sixth Dynasties. Their titulatury was largely honorific, but also included some important administrative titles (such as ‘overseer of the scribes of royal documents’, ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’, ‘overseer of the pyramid complex of the king NN’), which underscore the fact that they played an important role in the central administration of the country.85 Djedkara’s successor, Unas, temporarily reverted to a more centralized administration and no nobles from his reign are known to have been buried in the provinces. Unas also continued the policy of employing two viziers, although at this time both of them resided in Memphis. In contrast to prevailing opinion, however, it now seems that in some cases the nomarchs resided in the provinces already at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty.86 During the Sixth Dynasty we observe that every Egyptian king attempted in one way or another to reform the state’s administration as a consequence of increased tendencies toward centralization. Teti installed two viziers in Memphis, each with separate and specific responsibilities in the provinces, i.e., revenues and works, respectively. He also created the seat of the vizier in Upper Egypt at Edfu. High officials began to be buried in Elephantine at the southern frontier of Upper Egypt. Pepy I married, probably for political reasons in an attempt to regain control over Upper Egypt, two daughters of the Abydos official, Khui, and his wife, Nebet, who were to become mothers of the future kings Merenra and Pepy II. The reign of his successor, Merenra, is characterized by the fact that the number of burials of nomarchs throughout Upper Egypt attests to the increasing political and economic importance of individual nomes (nome 1—Elephantine, 2—Edfu, 4—Thebes, 5—Coptos, 6—Dendereh, 7—Qasr el-Sayiad, 8—Abydos, 9—Akhmim, 12—Deir el-Gebrawi, 14—Meir, 15—Sheikh Said, 16—Zawiyet el-Mayitin, 18—Kom el-Ahmar/Sawaris, 20—­Deshasha). Eventually, the last historically significant king of the Old Kingdom, Pepy II, assigned the family of Khui from Abydos the task of holding the office of vizier and overseer of Upper Egypt. Later on, within the years 25–35 of his reign, the centralized office of overseer of

 Strudwick, Administration, 319, Table 31.  A. El-Khouli and N. Kanawati, The Old Kingdom Tombs of El-Hammamiya (Sydney, 1990), 16. 85

86



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Upper Egypt was removed and the title granted to most Upper Egyptian nomarchs, who become responsible for tax collection under the supervision of the southern vizier. At Thebes and Meir Pepy II created central granaries, and possibly a third one in Abydos. Nomarchs of these nomes held the title ‘overseer of the granaries’. During the latter half of his reign many nomarchs combined their titles with that of ‘overseer of priests’. The nomarchs simultaneously lost the title ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’. The governor of Meir became the only overseer of Upper Egypt and the vizier of the south. As a consequence, shortly upon the death of Pepy II the nomarchs continued to combine administrative and priestly titles and started to adopt the rank of ‘hereditary prince’; the nomarchs of Thebes gained control over nomes 1–4.87 By the end of the Sixth Dynasty the provincial administrators had lost the provisioning from the Residence and from the royal mortuary cults (as suggested by the fact that the relevant titles were no longer used) and were forced to secure their independent income from local cults.88 At the same time, still during the reign of Pepy II, we have evidence of an explicit disintegration of the country: from Dara (Upper Egyptian nome 13) we are informed about a nomarch by the name of Khui who began to put his name into a cartouche and most likely was responsible for the defeat of the once powerful nomarch families in nomes 8, 12, and 14 (Deir el-Gebrawi and Meir).89 In a similar fashion the disintegration proceeded in Upper Egyptian nome 3 (Moʿalla), as indicated by the incident of bringing the qnbt of the overseer of Upper Egypt at Abydos to Moʿalla in order to confer with Ankhtifi’s father, Hetep.90 Yet, despite all odds, the kings of the Eighth Dynasty were still able to exert some influence over the southern part of the country, as shown by king Neferkauhor (reigning shortly some forty years after Pepy II), who explicitly appointed Idy, son of the nomarch Shemay, to the office of his father, i.e., as overseer of Upper Egypt in charge of nomes 1–7.91

  Kanawati, Governmental Reforms.   Kanawati and McFarlane, Akhmim, 294. 89  A. Kamal Bey, “Fouilles à Dara et à Qoçeîr El-Amarna,” ASAE, 12 (1912): 132, fig. 9; R. Weill, Dara: Campagnes de 1946–1948 (Cairo, 1958), 79; Kanawati and McFarlane, Akhmim, 151–52. 90   Kanawati and McFarlane, Akhmim, 157–62. 91  H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (ÄA 14; Wiesbaden, 1967), 178–83. 87 88

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Throughout the whole Old Kingdom we observe a growing complexity of the administration. What does it mean? To illustrate this notion we should have a closer look at the titulary of the vizier. It has already been indicated that the office of the vizier underwent significant changes during the Old Kingdom. Apart from different concepts of the duties of the vizier in different periods, there were also significant changes in the number of individual titles found in their titularies. During the Fourth Dynasty the number of titles of the vizier ranges from three to thirty-five. In the Fifth Dynasty some viziers held up to twenty-six titles, the vizier Kai with his fifty-one attested titles at the beginning of the Fifth Dynasty being an anomaly. At the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty the number of individual titles was at its highest: some officials such as Kagemni (fifty), Mereruka (eighty), and Khentika Ikhekhi (fifty-three) possessed an extreme number of titles. Typical for the critical period, all three of them reached the peak of their career under the reign of Teti at the beginning of the Sixth Dynasty. Shortly thereafter, however, the length of the vizier’s titulary falls abruptly (frequently fewer than twenty titles) and only two viziers of the very late Old Kingdom, Tjetju and Kanefer, possess a high number of titles (fifty-one and forty-five, respectively). It is interesting to observe that the factors that formed the backbone of ancient Egyptian kingship and state—namely, the growth of an elite class of administrators, penetration of the state administration by nonroyal officials, centralization of the country and the management of resources—turned into ‘crisis factors’ that worked together to precipitate the decline of the Old Kingdom during the Sixth Dynasty (most of the factors were already in play from the reign of Nyuserra). These ‘negative’ factors all centered around failures of the central administration and the Residence and they were as follows: •  Crisis of identity—the manner in which the ruling group was accepted; •  Crisis of participation—who took part in state administration and how; •  Crisis of ability of the executive to control the state’s administration and economy; •  Crisis of legitimacy—the authority and ability to enforce decisions made;



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•  Crisis of distribution—the effectiveness of the redistribution of economic resources.92 We may add one further factor, which is the very intensive transfer of landholdings from the state to funerary, non-taxable domains, whose only purpose was to provide the economic base for both royal and non-royal cults, and the creation of an army of officials involved which led to eventual exhaustion of economic capacities of the country.93 On a general level, power and rule had by the end of the Old Kingdom become territorial and personal (in contrast to the situation in the central government of the Old Kingdom state) and the state failed to maintain the previously introduced norms and preset rules.94 It is interesting to note that it is precisely by the end of the Old Kingdom that these factors which undoubtedly stimulated development turned into ones that inhibited further development (these are personalization, multiplication, and disintegration). In fact they led to the ultimate decline of the Old Kingdom state. Chase and Chase were able to demonstrate that it was the process during which elites usurped many originally royal privileges that led to a crisis and disintegration.95 In fact, what we have here is not a collapse of just any kind, but a reduction of verticality, in which the notion of centrality was undermined and political and administrative networks became downsized. As a result, many local centers emerged during the First Intermediate Period, a time characterized by a proliferation of the relevant local ‘material’ cultures.

 H. Kaufman, “The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilisations as an Organisational Problem,” in The Collapse of Ancient States and Civilizations, ed. N. Yoffee and G.L. Cowgill, (Tucson, 1988), 219–35; R. Müller-Wollermann, Krisenfaktoren im ägyptischen Staat des ausgehenden Alten Reichs (Tübingen, 1986). 93  R. Gundlach, Der Pharao und sein Staat: Die Grundlegung der ägyptischen Königsideologie im 4. und 3. Jahrtausend (Darmstadt, 1998), 227ff. 94   Bárta, “Kingship during the Old Kingdom,” (forthcoming). 95   Mesoamerican Elites: An archaeological Assessment, ed. D.Z. Chase and A.F. Chase (Norman, 1992). 92

The administration of the royal funerary complexes Hana Vymazalová The royal funerary complexes constituted an indispensable part of the ancient Egyptian state of the Old Kingdom. The pyramids of course feature among the symbols of ancient Egypt but their significance reaches far beyond tourist attractions. The funerary complexes which besides the pyramid also included a pyramid temple, a causeway and a valley temple, were at the same time burial places of kings and places of perpetuating or maintaining the kings’ funerary cults—they were created for one major reason: the resurrection of the deceased ruler. The administration of a royal funerary complex included two main aspects.1 The project of the construction of the pyramid complex represented one of the major tasks for every king who ascended the Egyptian throne and required the efforts of a whole army of administrators throughout the lifetime of the king. A large part of the country’s resources and workforce were used in one way or another on this project, in the hope that resurrection and a happy afterlife would be secured for all. The other aspect of a royal funerary complex occurred at the time of the ruler’s death when his body was placed in the sarcophagus in the burial chamber, rites were performed for the king to reach safely his place in heaven, and the whole complex started to serve its function—perpetuating the funerary cult of the deceased king which was to last for decades or centuries after his death. The maintenance of the royal cults constituted an integral part of the state organisation and economy. The Administration of the Construction Project When a new king began his royal career, one of his first tasks was to start the construction of his own funerary complex. The form of the

1   V. Dobrev, “Administration of the Pyramid”, in: The Treasures of the Pyramids, Z. Hawass, ed. (Cairo, 2003), 28–31.

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monument could change in the course of time from a mastaba-shaped tomb of the Archaic Period to the sophisticated step pyramid complex of the Third Dynasty and the true pyramid complex of the rest of the Old Kingdom (and also Middle Kingdom and later). The preparation of the royal place of resurrection would however at any time require: 1) creating a team including those responsible for the project who delegated partial tasks to their inferiors. The whole hierarchy of these officials ended with the craftsmen and the large workforce working on the site; 2) identifying a sufficient and suitable place for the construction, with local construction materials in sufficient quantity and quality but also wood, water etc. available in the immediate vicinity; 3) securing the necessary resources, including the estates and production places throughout the whole country in order to provide sufficient and lasting economic support for the project. A core team of constructors working for the new king bore responsibility for the project. It included high-ranking officials who undoubtedly had experience from the previous construction projects of the royal predecessors. They were headed by the “overseer of all the king’s works” (jmj-r¡ k¡t nbt (nt) nzwt) who ranked among the highest officials in the state since at least the early Fourth Dynasty.2 The title was held by both viziers and non-viziers during most of the Old Kingdom, and the contemporaneous holders of the office were most likely in charge of different projects perhaps in different geographical regions.3 Until the early Fifth Dynasty, the holders of such high offices were the kings’ sons or other members of the royal family while the later holders were of non-royal origin. Three contemporaneous holders sometimes occurred during the Fifth Dynasty, one of them associated with a restricted version of the title, “overseer of the king’s works” (jmj-r¡ k¡t (nt) nzwt). In the Sixth Dynasty, a reduction in the number of the titles associated with the organisation of labour appeared, and since

2   This title probably developed from the Third Dynasty form jmj-jrtj k¡t nbt (nt) nzwt; it occurs also in the abbreviated forms jmj-r¡ k¡t nzwt, jmj-r¡ k¡t nbt, jmj-r¡ k¡t. See D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom (Oxford: BAR International Series 866, 2000), vol. I, 262 and 49. 3  N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. Highest Titles and Their Holders (London, 1985), 217–250.



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the reign of Pepy I the title was given exclusively to men who were (or were to become) viziers. At the same time, these important officials were granted high-ranking positions in the organisation of the pyramid complexes of their kings. It is assumed that the project of the construction of the royal funerary complex was in the hands of the vizier holding the title of overseer of all the king’s works. His responsibility comprised organising and commissioning the works, including the expeditions and the construction, while it was his subordinates who made sure that the orders were carried out.4 The overseer of all the king’s works delegated the tasks to the officials who were responsible for delivering the construction materials, the economic side of the construction, the labour, and other aspects of the project. Chosen officials led expeditions to desert quarries, assisted by soldiers, scribes and followed by hundreds or even thousands of workers.5 In the meantime, the work proceeded on the site. The choice of the place for the king’s complex observed certain principles or patterns. It could be situated at a relatively new place,6 near the older tombs of famous ancestors,7 or in the vicinity of the direct predecessors, which was a very practical solution because it allowed the king to take over the construction and administrative background of the previous project.8 For the needs of the construction, the produce of many agricultural domains all over the country had to be collected and even some new estates were established by the king and his team for this purpose.9 We find hundreds of these funerary domains listed on the walls of the

 N. Strudwick, Administration, 241–243.   Written evidence with detailed listing of the expedition attendants survived from the time of the Middle Kingdom, for instance in the inscription of Ameni in the Wadi Hammamat. 6  New construction places seem to be preferred above all by the kings at the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty (Meidum, Dahshur, Giza, Abu Rawash, Zawyet el-Aryan). From the later kings, it was Djedkare Isesi who established a new burial place in south Saqqara. 7  For example Userkaf, Menkauhor, Unas and Teti built their pyramid complexes in close proximity to the step pyramid complex of Netjerikhet Djoser at Saqqara, Shepseskaf near Snofru’s monuments, and Sahure near the solar temple of Userkaf. 8   This was the choice of Khafre and Menkauhor in Giza, Neferirkare, Neferefre and Niuserre in Abusir, and Pepy I, Merenre and Pepy II in south Saqqara. 9  See H.K. Jacquet-Gordon, Les noms des domaines funéraires sous l’ancien empire égyptien. (Le Caire: BdE 34, 1962). 4 5

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royal complexes10 and they were given names incorporating the name of the king, such as e.g. “Satisfaction of (king’s name)” (Ḥ tpt S¡ḥ w-Rʿ) or “Great of Provision is (king’s name)” (ʿ¡-d̠f¡ S¡ḥ w-Rʿ). It was the administrators of the project who controlled the large economic input of agricultural produce and looked after its distribution according to the needs of the construction project. The participation on a royal project implied not only great responsibility but also certain profit. The project of the construction of a funerary complex was subject to many calculations, measurements and astronomical observations. Both the practical and the religious side of the project were overseen by a team of planners that included architects and priests who at the same time executed other offices in the state administration. The priests were undoubtedly of particular importance because essential rituals needed to be performed before and during the construction of the monument. Numerous assistants worked for the priests and the architects, together with scribes, surveyors, craftsmen, and a large number of labourers who were called to the construction site from different parts of the country and were supervised and controlled by armed forces. Evidence of the necessary background in the form of settlement structures comprising houses, workshops, storerooms, food production places and offices have been traced in archaeology, above all in Giza.11 Even though only a small part of the settlements has been explored, it can give us a general idea of the size and organisation of such cities at a period when gigantic pyramids were built for the kings.12 The structure employed to organise the mass of workers who participated in the construction of the royal monument is reflected in many hieratic inscriptions on the pyramids themselves. Many of them

10   The most complete so far discovered list of funerary domains comes from the causeway of Sahure, excavated by the Egyptian team of Z. Hawass and T. El Awady. See M.I. Khaled, The Old Kingdom Royal Funerary Domains: New Evidence from the Causeway of the Pyramid Complex of Sahura. (Prague, 2008), unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. 11  See R. Stadelmann, “La ville de pyramide à l’Ancien empire”, RdE 33 (1981), 67–77; for the ongoing exploration of the settlement at Heit el-Ghurob in Giza dating to the time of Khafre and Menkaure, see the preliminary reports published in the Giza Occasional Papers, by M. Lehner, M. Kamel and A. Tavarez, and www.aeraweb.org. 12  A. Tavarez, “Heit el-Ghurob: an unusual settlement in the Old Kingdom ‘Capital Zone’?”, paper presented at the conference Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2010 in Prague.



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come from the limestone blocks in the core and casing of the Fourth Dynasty monuments and even the blocks in their temples, but examples are known also from the Fifth and Sixth Dynasty pyramid complexes in Abusir and Saqqara. Some of the identifying inscriptions can be found even on working tools. The organisational structure probably underwent certain changes during the centuries of the Old Kingdom period, reflecting the specific requirements of the gigantic structures or the later smaller-sized pyramids.13 The evidence on the organisation of the workforce and the system’s development during the period of the Old Kingdom indicates that in the Fourth Dynasty the working crews consisted of two gangs (ʿprw) whose names comprised the name of the ruling king. It has been presumed that each ʿpr-gang consisted of four phyles (s¡).14 But the phyles could actually be placed above the ʿpr-gangs in the work-hierarchy and the priests in the phyles administered the workers of the ʿpr-gangs, who performed the heavy labour.15 Each phyle was further divided into four divisions (in the time of Menkaure). There exists some evidence that a phyle-division could have been headed by an “overseer of the ten” ( jmj-r¡ 10).16 The system of phyles shows certain similarities to the nautical organisation.17 The work on the construction site at the Giza pyramids seems to have been divided geographically among the crews and phyles which served temporarily in a system of rotation.18 Between the late Fourth and early Fifth Dynasties the system changed due to a reduction in the size of the pyramids as well as the size of the stone blocks. The reduction in the workforce resulted in a rearrangement of the system into a form which was similar to the rotation of the phyles in the funerary  A detailed study of the evidence was presented above all by A.M. Roth, Egyptian Phyles in the Old Kingdom. The Evolution of a System of Social Organisation. (Chicago: SAOC 48, 1991), 119–142. 14  A.M. Roth, Phyles, 120, 127–133. 15   V. Dobrev in Treasures, 30; the reason for the names of the ʿpr-gangs being mentioned before the phyle-names in the masons’ inscriptions was the honorific anteposition of the royal cartouche in the former names. 16  According to an inscription on an ostracon from Giza, see A.M. Roth, Phyles, p. 121, fig. 2.9. 17  A.M. Roth, Phyles, 41–59; for further discussion on the subject also V. Dobrev in Treasures, 30. 18  It has been suggested that each gang had an independent system of rotation and probably two phyles of each gang were in service at one time, A.M. Roth, Phyles, 133. 13

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temples.19 It has been suggested previously that the ʿpr-gangs no longer existed in the system since the Fifth Dynasty, as their names appear no more in the masons’ marks in the temples even though they still continued to occur in the royal reliefs.20 This suggestion was, however, influenced by the lack of published material from the Fifth and the Sixth Dynasties.21 The recently published masons’ inscriptions on the blocks in the pyramid of Neferefre in Abusir did contain names of several gangs, and in addition to that other evidence from Abusir indicates that gangs bearing the same names served different kings in the necropolis.22 The Funerary Cults in the Royal Complexes The completion of a funerary complex and the placement of the mummified body of a king into the sarcophagus in the burial chamber marked the beginning of another stage in the existence of a pyramid complex. No evidence on the funerary cults of the kings survived from the early Egyptian dynasties, except for stelae with the kings’ names and labels bearing information on the types and quantities of objects which formed the funerary equipment. In the Old Kingdom, however, a sophisticated system was created for maintaining the cults of the country’s deceased rulers. After the king’s death, the construction crews of labourers moved to the project of the new king,23 and only the priests organised in phyles settled in the vicinity of the funerary complex in order to maintain the funerary cult of the king and perform the rituals essential for his afterlife.24 Administrative titles related to the perpetuation of the royal funerary cults occur on the walls of the tombs of officials. Their strings of

19   This suggestion in A.M. Roth, Phyles, 143 was based on the inscriptions on four limestone tablets found in Userkaf ’s solar temple in Abusir. 20  A.M. Roth, Phyles, 142. 21  Names of both the ʿpr-gangs and the phyles can be found in the masons’ inscriptions on the blocks of the pyramid of Pepy I in Saqqara, personal communication with V. Dobrev. 22  M. Verner et al., Abusir IX. The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef. The Archaeology. (Prague, 2006), 201–202. 23  M. Verner, Abusir IX, 201–202; M. Verner, in: Abusir X. The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef. The Papyrus Archive, P. Posener-Kriéger, M. Verner and H. Vymazalová, (Prague, 2006), 367. 24   V. Dobrev in Treasures, 29.



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titles show the general development of the rank and importance of the offices in the course of the Old Kingdom, and indicate that the structure of the organisation was rather complex.25 In addition to that, the remains of papyrus archives discovered in the pyramid temples in Abusir reveal some details of the organisation of the cults.26 The archives appear to be a particularly useful source for the study of the administration and economy of the royal cults, but they reflect only the reality of the late Fifth Dynasty in Abusir. No similar evidence survived from earlier times or from other Old Kingdom necropoleis. The connection between the administration of the royal funerary cults, the residence and other institutions of the Egyptian state is clearly reflected in the strings of titles of the officials who were appointed as priests in the pyramid complexes. Economic connections were further confirmed by the Abusir archives. Of particular importance is the connection with the sun temples built by the kings of the Fifth Dynasty. Economic connections clearly existed between the pyramid complexes and the sun temples;27 in addition, certain administrative connections can also be traced in the evidence. Even though the personnel of the funerary and sun temples was not joint,28 many of the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests associated with the sun temples also held positions in royal funerary temples. The question remains to what extent these men actually performed cultic acts in both types of temples. In addition to the priests, also various jmj-r¡ titles are known for the attendants of the sun temples, and these indicate that next to the cultic rituals, the main activities of the officials associated with a sun temple related to the administration of provisions.29

25   K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom. The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties. (Chicago, 1960), 248. 26  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Neferirkare-Kakai (Les papyrus d’Abousir). Traduction et commentaire. (Le Caire: BdE 65, 1976), 565–609 presented a fundamental study of the organisation of a royal funerary cult; some additions were made recently by M. Verner, “The personnel of Raneferef’s mortuary temple”, in: Abusir X, 360–374. 27  H. Vymazalová, “The economic connection between the royal cult in the pyramid temples and the sun temples in Abusir”, in: Old Kingdom, New Perspectives. Egyptian Art and Archaeology 2750–2150 BC, N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick, eds. (Oxford, 2011), 295–303. 28  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 524. 29  M. Nuzzolo, “The V Dynasty sun temples personnel: An overview of titles and cult practise through the epigraphic evidence”, SAK 39 (2010), 1–24.

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The Abusir archives revealed that the administrative structures within the funerary temples of kings Neferirkare and Neferefre,30 which were situated next to each other in the same necropolis, were for the most part not interconnected. The priests and functionaries who could serve the cult of more than one king were the only exception. Four persons bearing the same name and title can be found in both archives: a lector priest by the name of Niankhre, ḥ m-nt̠r-priests Khuwinefer and Khenu, and a palace-attendant by the name of Khenu,31 while in the case of three others, their different titles indicate that different persons were referred to.32 The majority of the many personal names occurring in the documents was however attested only in one king’s archive. The two archives moreover seem to indicate that the numbers of the funerary temples attendants differed. At least 250–300 men could be attached to the pyramid complex of Neferirkare in permanent or temporary service, while each of the two divisions of the five phyles seemed to have 20 members.33 In Neferefre’s pyramid temple it was probably not more than half of that number, even though it cannot be established with certainty.34 30   To make a distinction between the archives of the two kings, Roman numbers are used to refer to the documents found in the pyramid temple of Neferirkare Kakai after P. Posener-Kriéger and J.L. de Cenival, The Abusir Papyri (London: HPBM V, 1968), while Arabic numbers are used in the documents found in the pyramid temple of Neferefre Isi after Posener-Kriéger, Verner and Vymazalová, Abusir X. The remains of another papyrus archive found in the pyramid temple of Khentkaus II in Abusir reveals only a few administrative details. P. Posener-Kriéger, “Les fragments du papyrus”, in: Abusir III. The Pyramid Complex of Khentkaus, M. Verner, (Prague, 1995), 133–142. 31   H̠ rj-ḥ bt Niankhre in documents LXX B and LXX C from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive and in document 5A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; ḥ mnt̠r Khuwinefer in IIIb, V Ae, VI A b.c.e., VII Ai from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive and in document 4A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; pr-ʿ¡ Khenu in document LXXVII F from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive and in document 7A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; ḥ m-nt̠r Khenu in document LXVIII d2 from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive and in document 7A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 32  It is not possible to say whether this evidence can point to the same people at different stages in the development of their careers. Ipi in document XLVI from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive, and in documents 8E, 14A and 66B from Nefer­ efre’s pyramid temple archive; Isiankh in documents LXII 14 and LXXXVII B from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive, and in document 66A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; Ptahshepses in document XLVI from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive, and in documents 8E from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 33  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 573. 34  Five, seven or nine persons were listed for some of the phyle-divisions in the documents, but these do not have to include all the members and some of them are



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There were economic and/or administrative reasons for the difference in the number of people attached to the two king’s funerary temples in Abusir. It has been suggested that king Neferefre who ruled for less than two years35 was not able to establish a sufficient number of funerary domains necessary for the infrastructure of his funerary cult, which was therefore supported by other kings’ complexes.36 The number of domains newly established by a king however did not necessarily influence (or at least not on its own) the extent of his funerary cult.37 The number of the funerary temple attendants could also reflect the number of other funerary cults associated with the king’s cult. For instance Neferirkare’s funerary cult is known to have been closely connected with that of queen Khentkaus II whose pyramid complex was located just south of the king’s funerary temple.38 A large part of the responsibilities associated with the royal cult— and the advantage of a guaranteed income—was in the hands of middle-ranking officials: we can find judges, palace attendants, overseers, different ranks of scribes, and many others among those who were mentioned in the Abusir archives.39 In addition to them, high ranking officials appear in those texts, such as a “vizier” (t¡jtj z¡b t̠¡tj), a “sole companion” (smr-wʿtj) and a “count” (ḥ ¡tj-ʿ). These functionaries probably fulfilled certain tasks assigned to them within the top level of the temple organisation. The core of the attendants of the royal cults included several levels of priests who were organised in five phyles, each of them consisting of two divisions. Each phyle-division spent one month in the service only partly preserved. For instance the five men and their two foremen in document 69A do not necessarily include all the members of the two divisions of the phyle but only those of the members who were appointed to bring mud-bricks and do building work on the northern wall in the course of two successive months. The rest of the members of the same phyle could fulfill other tasks in the temple at the same time. 35  M. Verner, Abusir IX, 10. 36  M. Verner in: Abusir X, 369. 37   The hundreds of funerary domains that appear on the walls of the pyramid complexes (M.I. Khaled, Royal Funerary Domains) were possibly used by kings for the construction of their pyramid complexes but after their completion only some of them were assigned to their funerary cults while the majority of the domains were re-used by the new king for his own project. Neferefre’s funerary domains are attested only sporadically but evidence of his activities around the country survived for instance in Middle Egypt, see M. De Meyer, Old Kingdom Rock Tombs at Dayr Al-Barsha. (Leuven, 2008), unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, 28–36, pl. 1. 38  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 527–533; For the queen‘s pyramid complex see M. Verner, Abusir III. The Pyramid Complex of Khentkaus. (Prague, 1995). 39  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 565–609; M. Verner in Abusir X, 370–374.

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and then was replaced by another division. Thus the phyle-divisions’ service in the funerary temple rotated along a ten month cycle. The names of the five phyles seem to have been the same in every complex—wr, st̠, w¡d̠, nd̠s and jmj-nfrt.40 The five phyles were associated with five pairs of storerooms; their names can be found inscribed on the door jambs of these rooms.41 The phyles were presumably directed by a director of the phyle-members (ḫ rp jmjw z¡). This title occurs only once in the papyrus archives42 and rarely appears in the strings of titles of officials, usually in connection with the title ʿd̠-mr.43 The names of the phyle-divisions differed in individual temples, as the examples from Neferirkare’s and Neferefre’s pyramid temples in Abusir clearly show. At the head of each of the ten phyle-divisions stood an inspector of the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests (sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r) and an under-supervisor of the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests (jmj-ḫ t ḥ mw-nt̠r). In the archives the two functions often occur only as titles and are only occasionally associated with names of individuals—it was the function that mattered to the scribes who worked on documents such as the tables of rations. The rations of the inspectors and under-supervisors were higher (even double) than the share of the other members of the phyles.44 In the documents from the archive of Neferefre’s pyramid temple the two titles appear only rarely. This might be due to the fact that much less survived of the tables with the assignments of duties in this archive compared to that of Neferirkare or that the people in charge were not always addressed by this title. In the archive from the pyramid temple of Neferefre, we find titles and names of a relatively high social rank, such as smr-wʿtj, smpriest, ḥ ¡tj-ʿ, and h̠rj-tp nzwt, who were associated with the individual

40  In the Middle Kingdom the phyles were numbered instead of bearing the names used in the Old Kingdom. This is attested by the documents found in Kahun, a settlement associated with the pyramid complex of Senusret III at Lahun. 41  E.g. L. Borchardt, Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Ne-user-reʿ (Leipzig: VWDOG 7, 1907), 54; L. Borchardt, Das Grabdenkmal des Königs Nefer-ir-ke3–reʿ (Leipzig: VWDOG 11, 1909), 32. The previous theories suggesting that the five phyles were also related to the five-niche chapel seem not so obvious, see M. Verner in Abusir X, 366. 42  Document Vc from Neferirkare’s temple archive. 43  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 574. 44  A double share or more for an jmj-ḫ t in document LIII A from Neferirkare’s papyrus archive and in document 74L from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; half of the shares for all the wʿbw and ḫ ntjw-š in document XCIV from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive.



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phyle-divisions in several documents and were apparently responsible for the sealing of the temple parts,45 undoubtedly some of the most important tasks. The fragments indicate that these high-ranking phylerepresentatives might have held a specific position within the funerary temple, which was written out in red ink below their titles and names: god’s sealer (ḫ tmtj-nt̠r), scribe of the crews (zš ʿprw) or flautist of the white crown (zb¡ ḥ d̠t). In another record, related to the distribution of products,46 six of these men appear again, one of them as sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r while the other five bear their other titles (z¡b ʿd̠-mr and smr). This record might indicate that these high-ranking officials indeed stood at the head of the phyles but not necessarily as the sḥ d̠w ḥ mw-nt̠r or jmjw-ḫ t ḥ mw-nt̠r. It seems apparent that these high-ranking men seldom provided their services in person and their daily duties were delegated to their servants. The phyles of the funerary temples comprised of ḥ m-nt̠r-priests together with ḫ ntjw-š. The former were always mentioned in the first place before the latter, and thus the ḥ mw-nt̠r appear to have been considered more important (and were less numerous).47 The ḥ m-nt̠r-priest titles often feature in the strings of titles in the officials’ tomb inscriptions, and it is well known that one person could be a ḥ m-nt̠r-priest in more than one pyramid complex. A certain development of the title can be traced in the course of the Old Kingdom. The title could be associated either with the name of a king or with the name of a king’s pyramid complex. The former is attested much more often than the latter title until the middle of the Fifth Dynasty. Evidence indicates that changes occurred at the end of the Fifth Dynasty48 which we can possibly connect with certain change in religious practices.49 With the introduction of the title associating the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests with a pyramid complex (instead of a king’s name), the rank of the holders increased. In the Sixth Dynasty a distinction was apparent between the priestly titles in the pyramid complexes of the

 Documents 8E and 45–46A b–c from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive.  Document 14Ac from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 47  For the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests and ḫ ntjw-š in the archive from Neferirkare’s temple see P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archive, 574–581; and for those in the archive from Neferefre’s temple see M. Verner in Abusir X, 370–374. 48   K. Baer, Rank and Title, 264–265. 49  Around the same time the kings ceased to build the sun temples related to the pyramid complexes and started to inscribe the walls of the subterranean chambers in their pyramids with the Pyramid Texts. 45 46

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earlier kings and those in the pyramid complexes of the Sixth Dynasty kings, who were obviously of higher rank.50 On the other hand, the ḫ ntjw-š, whom we find in the phyles together with the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests, seem to have been associated with a single complex and one deceased king only. This relation could also be expressed by their names which often contained the name of that ruler. Both groups of phyle-members were ascribed more or less the same tasks in the daily service, one next to the other, as attested by the service-tables preserved in the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple.51 According to these records, both types of phyle attendants participated together in cultic rituals and in profane services in different parts of the temple:52 they prepared instruments for rituals, took care of the offering-table, made purification rituals and libations, spent days and nights in different parts of the temple and on its roof, including the isolated service in the intimate part of the temple, and in guard service.53 The question nevertheless remains: To what extent did the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests fulfill their duties ascribed to them in the tables of duties preserved in the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple? In the archive from Neferefre’s pyramid temple several tables registering the fulfillment of duties indicate that some ḥ m-nt̠r-priests (and other officials) actually sent their d̠t-servants to do their work. The scribes did not forget to record such details in the tables.54 The d̠t-servants never did the work of the ḫ ntjw-š, and it seems that the latter were the real core of the phyles while the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests enjoyed their income guaranteed from such office but their regular participation in the daily work within the temples can be put into doubt. In some cases, the task attributed to a ḥ m-nt̠r-priest and a ḫ ntj-š could be pursued by the same person, as indicated by the names written in and across both respective columns in document IIIb from Neferirkare’s temple archive which relate to the morning and evening ambulation around the pyramid. The passage around the pyramid was elsewhere called explicitly the way of the ḥ m-nt̠r-priest,55 but the

  K. Baer, Rank and Title, 257, 266.  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 14–57. 52  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 536–543. 53  Documents III–IV, V, VI–VII and LXXXVI A2 from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive. 54  Document 4A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 55  Document V from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive. 50 51



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former record does not clearly indicate whether the people recorded were ḥ m-nt̠r-priests or ḫ ntjw-š because some of the names occur in both columns and thus acted in place of both types of phyle members. Whether the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests could delegate tasks to those ḫ ntjw-š who were assigned to perform the tasks with them, is not clear from the documents. It was always the ḫ ntjw-š, the truly present and lower positioned members of the phyles, who were in charge of the transportation of offerings and meat products. Another distinction between the tasks of the two groups of phyle members is apparent during the festivals when specific rituals took place. In the rites performed on statues as described in the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple,56 the ḫ ntjw-š fulfilled all the steps of the rituals, except for the final fumigation which was in the hands of a ḥ m-nt̠r-priest.57 Such seems to have been the ritual difference between the two types of phyle members. It is worth noting that no overseers or inspectors of ḫ ntjw-š seem to have operated in the pyramid temples.58 It seems natural that the ḫ ntjw-š were subordinate to the ḥ mw-nt̠r, who were headed by the above mentioned inspectors or under-supervisors. Another type of priests mentioned in the papyrus archives and in the title-strings of the officials were the wʿbw. As well as the ḥ m-nt̠rpriests, they could serve in more than one pyramid complex and a similar development of the titles, their hierarchy and the rank of their holders can be traced in the evidence.59 It has been suggested, on the basis of the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple,60 that the wʿb-priests represented the permanent attendants of the funerary temples and were not members of the alternating phyle-divisions. This seems to be contradicted by some documents from Neferefre’s pyramid temple in which we find  Document III–IV from Neferirkare’s temple archive.  See also H. Vymazalová and F. Coppens, “The clothing rite in the royal temples of Abusir”, in: My Things Changed Things. Social Development and Cultural Exchange in Prehistory, Antiquity, and the Middle Ages, P. Maříková-Vlčková, J. Mynářová and M. Tomášek, eds. (Praha, 2009), 64–73. 58   The title sḥ d̠ ḫ ntjw-š is mentioned in the index of titles in the publication of the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple but its existence is not convincingly proven. In document LXXIV A from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive, we would read sḥ d̠ prw-ʿ¡ ḫ ntj-š rather than pr-ʿ¡ sḥ d̠ ḫ ntjw-š, and in document XCII A similarly sḥ d̠ /// ḫ ntj-š. 59   Baer’s study on the titles of priesthood included both the ḥ m-nt̠r- and wʿb-priests; see K. Baer, Rank and Title, 245–273. 60  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 582. 56 57

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“wʿb-priests of the month” (wʿb jmj ¡bd).61 In addition to that, the tasks of a “wʿb-priest who is in charge of the temple every day” (wʿb jrj ḥ wt rʿ nb) were assigned to several people in a table of priestly duties which covered the month-long service of a phyle-division.62 The archive from Neferefre’s pyramid temple moreover provides a useful comparison with the previous study. The wʿb-priest were mentioned less often than ḥ m-nt̠r-priests in the archive from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple but it was the other way round in the archive from Neferefre’s pyramid temple. The former (as well as the latter) were often mentioned together with ḫ ntjw-š and it is worth noting that wʿbpriests and ḥ m-nt̠r-priests did not occur together in the same record (even though they can occur on the same papyrus scroll in different records).63 Fragments of royal decrees preserved in the archive from Neferefre’s pyramid temple were addressed either to ḥ m-nt̠r-priests and ḫ ntjw-š64 or to wʿb-priests and ḫ ntjw-š. It were the wʿb-priests and ḫ ntjw-š who had access to the offerings of the deceased king according to these official documents. The wʿb-priests were still in the headings of some documents preceded by a sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r 65 but at other times this title was replaced by sḥ d̠ wʿbw.66 Wʿbw also feature together with ḫ ntjw-š in a document of the distribution of rations or in a document referring to the transmission of two phyle-divisions in the temple service, and they are mentioned after the inspector and undersupervisor of ḥ m-nt̠r-priests, i.e. as members of a phyle-division.67 In addition to that, several people of the same name are attested as both wʿbpriests and ḥ m-nt̠r-priests in documents preserved from both kings’ pyramid temples.68

 Documents 25B and 84H from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive.  Document 5A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 63  For instance in document XCII A from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive. 64  Document 19C from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: wd̠ nzwt sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r ḥ m-nt̠r/////. 65  Document 19B from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: [wd̠ nzwt] sḥ d̠ ḥ mw-nt̠r wʿbw ḫ ntjw-š/////. 66  Document 18A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: wd̠ nzwt sḥ d̠ wʿbw wʿbw ḫ ntjw-š m Nt̠rj-b¡w-Nfr.f-Rʿ; document 18E from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: wd̠ nzwt (n) sḥ d̠ wʿbw wʿbw ḫ ntj-š m Ntrj-b¡w-Nfr.f-Rʿ; document 20A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: wd̠ [nzwt] (n) sḥ d̠ wʿbw ḫ ntjw-š////. 67  Document XCIV A from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive; document 62– 63A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 68  Iha in documents 7A and 45–46A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; Kaninisut in documents 4A and 20D from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; 61 62



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It therefore seems plausible that the wʿb-priests either did at some time replace the ḥ m-nt̠r-priests69 or more likely that some of the ḥ mnt̠r-priests (or other functionaries) were chosen to fulfil the function of a wʿb-priest in the temple, and were rewarded by a share of the offerings. The latter possibility seems supported by mentions of the “one who is on monthly service as a wʿb-priest”70 (. . . jmj-¡bd n wʿb) and of a lector priest acting as a wʿb-priest71 (. . . h̠rj-ḥ bt sw wpj m wʿb) in Neferefre’s pyramid archive. In addition, the title “overseer of wʿbpriests” (jmj-r¡ wʿbw) was attested in documents, but it occurs very rarely and its position within the hierarchy of the temple attendants is not very clear. According to the documents from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple, the h̠rj-ḥ bt-priests do not seem to change with the circulation of the phyles and could be employed in the funerary temples permanently or for longer periods.72 The number of lector priests who acted as directors and reciters of rituals, as attested in the papyri, is very limited but it is possible that more than one lector priest was attached to the temple at one time.73 The same lector priest, Niankhre, moreover features in documents from both kings’ archives,74 which confirms that the lector priests were not very closely attached to a single king’s cult.75 The tasks of the lector priests attested in the papyri were associated only with ritual performances, and they seem to be specific and clear. In the tables of duties preserved in Neferirkare’s pyramid temple the lector priests appear reciting rituals during the daily service and are involved in the statues rituals during the festival of the month.76

Ankhmanetjer and Akhhetep in documents XI and V A from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive. 69  Such a replacement was refused by Posener-Kriéger (Les archives, 582) and by Roth (Phyles, 83). 70  Document 6F from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 71  Document 62–63A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive: “garment of the lector priest of the first day as wʿb-priest”. 72  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 583; a yearly service has been suggested for a lector priest on the basis of the title h̠rj-ḥ bt ḥ rj-tp jmj-rnpt attested in the Sixth Dynasty. 73  Documents LXX B, LXX C and LXX D from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive name different lector priests together in one document. 74  Documents LXX B and LXX C from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive and document 5A3 from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 75  A.M. Roth, Phyles, 84. 76   H̠ rj-ḥ bt Tia is attested in documents III–IV and LXXXIV C from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive.

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In addition to that, they also seem to have organised festivals.77 Lector priests attested in the documents that survived in Neferefre’s pyramid temple feature as recipients of linen, grain78 and also other products.79 They were apparently responsible for checking the sealings of the “house of the cloth” (pr-mnḫ t) and the “house of the statues” (pr-twt).80 It is likely that the lector priests were present in the funerary temple only at moments of ritual importance: to arrange festivals, prepare ritual garments for themselves and for the cultic statues, supervise the rituals and do the recitation, and make sure that the statues and linen were safely sealed in the storerooms after the conclusion of the rites. The rations of the lector priests were considerably smaller than those of the phyle-attendants,81 which undoubtedly reflected the specialised nature of the lector priests’ tasks within the temple, and the limited amount of time necessary for their fulfilment. Many other officials were attested in the papyrus archives from Abusir. These included various levels of scribes, court officials, juridical titles as well as members of the central administration, people attached to the treasury or royal hairdressers.82 Their position or function within the funerary cult can hardly be specified due to the very fragmentary state of the archives. These numerous officials could have been attached to the royal cult through an economic connection (either during their lifetime or after their death) or fulfilled services assigned by the central administration that were not part of the daily routine in the temple. The servants (d̠t) and assistants (h̠rjw-ʿ) who appear in the tables of duties seem however to have fulfilled the tasks ascribed to the members of the phyles. The d̠t-servants are usually associated with the ḥ mnt̠r-priests, scribes, palace attendants and also with lector priests and

 Document XIX from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive.  Documents 62–63 and 63J from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 79  Documents 65A2 and 73E from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 80  Document 45–46A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 81  Document XCVI A from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive attests a lector priest’s share as one fifth of the share of the inspector and under-supervisor, or one tenth of the share ascribed to the wʿb-priests and ḫ ntjw-š; document 68B from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive shows a lector priest’s share as one seventh of the share of the other men whose functions are not given, while in document 62–63A it was the same share as the share of a ḫ ntj-š, which was approx. half of other people’s shares. 82  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 588–609; M. Verner in Abusir IX, 370–374. 77 78



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other functionaries, and with a ḫ rp jmjw z¡.83 The documents associate h̠rjw-ʿ-assistants with higher-ranking men, such as smr-wʿtj, h̠rj-tp nzwt, ḫ tmtj-nt̠r or smsw-ist. Two of them—smr-wʿtj Rawer and h̠rj-tp nzwt Hetepib—seem to have headed two phyle-divisions and delegated their tasks to their assistants in more than one document.84 The rarely attested ḥ rjw-nst, usually translated as “functionaries”, seem to be associated with heavy work, such as transportation of deliveries, in the Abusir archives. On the base of other evidence from the Old Kingdom, they are considered young men who were to inherit a function within the phyles.85 In addition to the officials, some of the documents from the Abusir archives record the profession (but not the name) of the men who worked for the funerary temples. Thus we know that a cook, a god’s potter, a gardener, a bleacher or a physician received their share of the provisions. Their place within the temple organisation is however not apparent. These people could be employed as assisting staff and were not necessarily associated with the phyles. It is, however, also possible that the members of the phyles could have fulfilled these tasks as a form of service, as we can find a bleacher among the members of a phyle in the table assigning guardian duties.86 The administration of the royal cults in the funerary complexes required sufficient service centre which took the form of the so-called pyramid towns. Some of these cities seem to have played an important role in the distribution of specific products, as is for instance the case with the town Djed Snofru associated with Snofru’s monument in Meidum.87 Due to the usual location of the pyramid towns in the vicinity of the valley temples, i.e. in a humid environment, only scarce

83  Documents V A, LXXV B and LXXXIIa from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive; documents 5A, 6C, 14A, 79F and 83M from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 84  Documents LXXXII c, LVIII B from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive; documents 4A, 20B, 69A and 88E from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive. 85  P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 584; and A.M. Roth, Phyles, 82. 86  Document 4 A from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive; a bleacher also appears among the professions in document 49–50. 87  Djed Snofru is attested in the Abusir archives as a sender of specific bakery products for both kings’ funerary complexes; see documents XXXIV, XXXV B, XXXIX A and LXXVII N from Neferirkare’s pyramid temple archive, P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, 623–624; and documents 62–63A, 63H and 63I from Neferefre’s pyramid temple archive, M. Verner in: Abusir IX, 351.

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archaeological evidence has been traced, but it provides a useful addition to the written sources. Two kinds of settlements can be distinguished in the available evidence, namely the originally planned cities and the secondary settlements that developed later in time. Regularly shaped houses and buildings have been uncovered in Giza to the east of the tomb of Khentkaus I.88 These are neat rectangular structures that include houses, circular granaries, ovens and other facilities that provided the necessary background for the rotating phyle-divisions.89 It is not clear whether the members of the phyles lived in these settlements during their month of service or whether they came daily from their houses to fulfill their tasks, with the exception of those who guarded the temples at night. In the Abusir necropolis secondary structures were attested directly next to and within the pyramid temples of Neferirkare and Neferefre.90 These houses can be dated to the time of Menkauhor and Djedkare and seem to be the result of the fact that the complexes of these two kings were never fully finished. The pyramid towns located in the cultivation areas served only for the cults of Niuserre and Sahure, at least from the moment when Menkauhor moved the construction crews from Abusir to Saqqara. Similar structures of a Sixth Dynasty date were found also in the valley temple of Menkaure in Giza.91 The evidence moreover shows that the longer these funerary cults were in operation, the more damaged the temples became. Over time parts of them had been closed up and only small parts continued to be used for the kings’ cults, regardless the importance of the king-owner. More excavations are however needed before general conclusions can be drawn about the size, shape and development of the pyramid towns. The administration of a royal pyramid complex at the time of the Old Kingdom constituted an integral part of the state administration,

88  S. Hassan, Excavations at Giza VI. 1932–1933. (Cairo, 1943), 35–50; for recent excavations see M. Lehner, M. Kamel and A. Tavarez , “The Khentkawes Town”, in: Giza Plateau Mapping Project. Season 2008, Preliminary Report, M. Lehner, M. Kamel and A. Tavarez, eds. (Giza Occasional Papers 4, 2009), 9–46. 89  Another city of a regular plan was found around the lower temple of Snefru’s bent pyramid in Dahshur but it seems to be of a Middle Kingdom date. See A. Fakhry, The Monuments of Sneferu at Dahshur I. The Bent Pyramid. (Cairo, 1959), 106–117, pl. 62. 90  L. Borchardt, Nefer-ir-ke3–re‘, 11–12, 36–37; M. Verner, Abusir IX, 71–78, 106–107. 91   G.A. Reisner, Mycerinus. The Temples of the Third Pyramid at Giza, 34–54, 278.



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and many officials from different branches of state administration were attached to royal complexes. The construction of a pyramid complex was the responsibility of the highest officials of the state, while the maintenance of the royal cults lay in the hands of the middle rank officials, together with lower ranking attendants who made up the phyles. The fragments from the Abusir archives provide information on the organisation of the cults of the deceased kings for only a limited period of time of the late Fifth and early Sixth Dynasties and cover the limited area of the Abusir necropolis with several unfinished royal pyramid complexes. Other evidence indicates that in the course of the Old Kingdom the structure of the priesthood associated with the pyramid complexes underwent changes92 that were undoubtedly connected to general trends in the development of state administration. Acknowledgements This study was written within the Programme for the Development of Fields of Study at Charles University, No. P14 “Archaeology of nonEuropean Regions”, project “Research of the ancient Egyptian civilisation. Cultural and political adaptation of the North African civilisations in ancient history (5,000 B.C.–1,000 A.D.)”.

  K. Baer, Rank and Title, 248.

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Balat, a frontier town and its archive* Laure Pantalacci When compared to the extensive and detailed papyrus records preserved in the roughly contemporary royal memorial temples, the archives brought to light since the late 70s in the IFAO excavations in the Dakhla oasis (near the modern village of Balat, more precisely close to the old spring of ʿAyn Asil) are quite different. Instead of voluminous archives of papyri, we have either (1) tablets of very fine clay, with texts incised with a bone stylus or (2) impressions from cylinder or button seals, intended to secure doors, bags, boxes and the like; on these small lumps of clay, records were also written sometimes, necessarily reduced to the minimum. From the papyri which must have existed on the site—at least those bearing official communications from the royal Residence1—nothing remains, except for the faint impression of vegetal fibers on the back of a few clay sealings. On the other hand, a number of clay objects were satisfactorily preserved in or around the main administrative building in Dakhla—the governors’ palace or residence. Reflecting the administrative activity at the very heart of local power, the Balat archives offer a unique insight into the everyday life of ‘provincial’ administration. In the current state of our knowledge, due to the lack of archaeological remains and/or extensive excavations on provincial city sites such insights are impossible for the other Nile provinces at the turn of the 3rd millenium. Admittedly, this remote desert area had been regularly visited by Nile Valley settlers since at least the 4th dynasty.2 It also displayed peculiar geographical

* I am grateful to David Warburton for correcting my English and adding stimulating remarks. 1  Two royal ‘decrees’, i.e. letters from the king, recorded on stone stelae, were found in the ka-chapels area (inv. Ifao 3153, 3241): G. Soukiassian, M. Wuttmann, L. Pantalacci, Sanctuaires de ka des gouverneurs et dépendances. Une annexe du palais de ʿAyn ʿAsil, Balat VI, (Cairo: FIFAO 46, 2002), 310–316. 2  Expeditions from the 4th dynasty are now well attested in the Western desert, about 60 km south-west of Balat: K.P. Kuhlmann, “Der ‘Wasserberg des Djedefre’ (Chufu 01/1). Ein Lagerplatz mit Expeditionsinschriften der 4. Dynastie im Raum der Oase Dachla”, MDAIK 61 (2005), 243–289 and pl. 42. The presence of locally made ceramics and small watch-posts is hardly understandable if small permanent settlements did not already exist in Dakhla (O.E. Kaper, H. Willems, with an appendix

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and human factors which certainly had to be confronted in a specific manner. Nevertheless, during the 6th dynasty and the following transitional period at least, the general application of the “Egyptian” administrative system and the extensive range of records found on the site add valuable information, contributing to our understanding of pharaonic administration as a whole. The archive currently available from the excavations falls into two main groups: “living archive”, found in situ throughout the palace, and a “dead archive”, where outdated records which were culled out and discarded, always in the same specific dumping area, outside the north wall of the palace enclosure.3 At some point between 2200 and 2000 B.C., the residence of the governors was attacked, ransacked and reduced to ashes. Thus the living archives maintained at that time were fired in situ, and provide an accurate picture of their distribution throughout the residence. Careful observation and recording of the stratigraphical units allow a complete view of archive collections— generally a mix of clay sealings and tablets—and a full diachronic understanding of the archival process.

by Mary M.A. Mac Donald, “Policing the Desert: Old Kingdom Activity around the Dakhleh Oasis”, in: Egypt in Nubia. Gifts of the Desert, R. Friedman, ed. (London, 2002), 79–94; H. Riemer et al., “Zwei pharaonische Wüstenstationen südwestlich von Dachla”, MDAIK 61 (2005), 291–350; O.E. Kaper, “Soldier’s Identity Marks of the Old Kingdom in the Western Desert”, in: Pictograms or Pseudo Script? Non-textual Identity Marks in Practical Use in Ancient Egypt and Elsewhere. Proceedings of a Conference in Leiden, 19–20 December 2006, B.J.J. Haring & O.E. Kaper, eds. (Leiden: Egyptologische Uitgaven 25, 2009), 169–178; F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg. Eine pharaonische Karawanenroute durch die Libysche Wüste, unpublished doctoral dissertation, Univ. of Cologne, Feb. 2011, 493–494). In Balat the archaeological data currently available do not support a date prior to the mid-5th dynasty: L. Pantalacci, “Noms royaux nouvellement attestés à Balat”, in: Mélanges Vernus, J. Winand et al., eds., (Louvain: OLA)(in press). 3   The practice of always using the same specific spot to discard the administrative documents collected, in particular clay sealings of the same origin, is well attested on ancient Egyptian sites: to mention only recently excavated sites, see in Giza the “Pottery mound” (J. Nolan, Mud Sealings and Fourth Dynasty Administration at Giza. A Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of The Division of The Humanities in Candidacy for The Degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations, Univ. of Chicago, Illinois, (http://oi.uchicago.edu/pdf/nolan_dissertation_2010.pdf), 2010, pp. 19–23); or for the Middle Kingdom, Elephantine (C. von Pilgrim, “The Practice of Sealing in the Administration of the First Intermediate Period and the Middle Kingdom”, in: Le sceau et l’administration dans la Vallée du Nil, Villeneuve d’Ascq, 7–8 juillet 2000, CRIPEL 22 (2002), 164–168) or Abydos (J. Wegner, V. Smith & S. Rossel, “The Organization of the Temple Nfr-k¡ of Senwosret III at Abydos”, A&L 10 (2000), 89–90).



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The Staff of the Governorate The variety of administrative systems designed for the different regions of the Nile Valley during the Old Kingdom and its aftermath has long been discussed, described and analysed.4 Certainly that of Dakhla was quite specific; as an administrative unit, the Western desert ‘province’ doubtlessly included several of the Libyan oases, perhaps even all of them. We know Bahariya, in Egyptian D̠ sd̠s, was part of the territory controlled by Balat, since its inhabitants were enlisted in the work forces operating in Dakhla.5 Some documents include toponyms showing that such was also the case for other desert areas, but we still ignore which they are.6 At the head of this ‘province’ was the Governor of Dakhla (ḥ q¡ wḥ ¡t). Like the nomarchs, he was raised at the Memphite court and appointed by the king himself.7 Ḥ q¡ denotes both a power over a region with definite territorial boundaries, and a direct, if occasionally exotic, type of political authority.8 The full titulary of the governors includes an ancient nautical title (ʿpr wj¡ jmy-jrty), referring to the management of expeditions dispatched from the royal court in desert areas.9 4  See most recently H. Willems, Les Textes des sarcophages et la démocratie. Élements d’une histoire culturelle du Moyen Empire égyptien (Paris: Cybèle, 2008), pp. 31–52. 5  L. Pantalacci, “Contrôle et organisation du travail à la fin de l’Ancien Empire dans la province oasite”, in: L’organisation du travail dans l’antiquité égyptienne et mésopotamienne, B. Menu ed. (Cairo: BdE 151, 2010), 141. 6  For the connection of Dakhla with other inhabited areas, see my forthcoming article, “Broadening Horizons: Distant Places and Travels in Dakhla and the Western Desert at the End of the 3rd Millenium”, in Desert Road Archaeology, F. Förster, H. Riemer, eds. (Cologne: Heinrich-Barth Institut, to appear in 2013). 7  So the biography of Khentikaupepy: J. Osing et al., Denkmäler der Oase Dachla aus dem Nachlass von Ahmed Fakhry (Mainz: AVDAIK 28, 1982), pp. 29–32 and pl. 5, 59; see also our remarks “De Memphis à Balat: les liens entre la Résidence et les gouverneurs de l’oasis à la VIe dynastie”, in: Études sur l’Ancien Empire et la nécropole de Saqqâra dédiées à Jean-Philippe Lauer, C. Berger and B. Mathieu, eds. (Montpellier: Or. Monsp. IX, 1997), 341–342. 8  H. Goedicke, “The Pepi II Decree from Dakhleh”, BIFAO 89 (1989), 205; H.G. Fischer, Varia Nova. Egyptian Studies III (New York: MMA, 1996), p. 86 (f); for the use of ḥ q¡ in Nubia, see A. Sacko, “Le pouvoir politique des pays nubiens. Analyse du terme ḥ q¡ et ses applications archéologiques” in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence Internationale des Études Nubiennes, Lille 11–17 septembre 1994. III. Études, CRIPEL 17/3 (1998), 205–208. 9   M. Valloggia, “Les amiraux de l’oasis de Dakhleh”, in Mélanges offerts à Jean Vercoutter, F. Geus, F. Thill eds. (Paris: 1985), 355–364; D. Eichler, Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches (Göttingen: GÖF IV/26, 1993), 163–177.

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Male members of the governor’s family formed the local court and were linked to the Memphite court milieu by the ‘rank’ titles of špsnswt and rḫ nswt. Both titles are sometimes followed by a name of function. The title šps-nswt, which occasionally occurs alone in our documents, was not merely honorific. The šps-nswt are mentioned on royal hieroglyphic seals from the reign of Pepy I coming from the palace storerooms, suggesting their involvement in distributing commodities and/or luxury goods.10 Some letters found in the residence also emphasize their control over material wealth.11 Close to the governor, a šps-nswt, presumably a member of the ruling family, acted as wḥ mw—another title borrowed from the nautical hierarchy and, later on, desert expeditions.12 In some letters, this officer appears to transmit orders from the governor himself to his subordinates. The ‘controllers’ (sḥ d̠, abbreviated from the full title “controller of the oasis”, sḥ d̠ wḥ ¡t?), occasionally figure in our name-lists, but no indication of their hierarchical position or specific duties has been preserved. A funerary stela from Qilaʾ el-Dabba depicts a sḥ d̠ wḥ ¡t performing the cult for the benefit of the governor’s spouse13—a cultural link suggesting that he, like many of the higher officers in Dakhla, was related to the ruling family. Around these high officers, seal-bearers (ḫ tmtyw) and majordomos ( jmyw-r pr) were active servants, working for institutions or for the governor’s household. They feature regularly in distribution lists or property inventories. Through the epistolary records we are informed that they delivered and received goods, and insured the proper transmission and execution of information, orders

10  H.G. Fischer, “Three Old Kingdom Palimpsests in the Louvre”, ZÄS 86 (1961), 21–28. 11  L. Pantalacci, “La documentation épistolaire du palais des gouverneurs à BalatʾAyn Asil”, BIFAO 98 (1998), 311–313; Ead. “L’administration royale et l’administration locale au gouvernorat de Balat d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, in Le sceau et l’administration dans la Vallée du Nil, Villeneuve d’Ascq, 7–8 juillet 2000, B. Gratien ed., CRIPEL 22 (2002), 156–157. 12  R. Anthes, Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub (Leipzig: UGAÄ 9, 1928), pp. 32–33, pl. 17, no 14; J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Louvain: Aegyptiaca Leodiensia 4, 1997), p. 96 and n. 305; for the Middle Kingdom see also D. Farout, “La carrière du wḥ mw Ameny et l’organisation des expéditions au ouadi Hammamat au Moyen Empire”, BIFAO 94 (1994), 155, 166–167; S. Quirke, “The Regular Titles of the Late Middle Kingdom”, RdÉ 37 (1986), 122. 13   M. Valloggia, Balat IV. Le monument funéraire d’Ima-Pepy/Ima-Meryrê (Cairo: FIFAO 38, 1998), 76–77.



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or commodities. The overall impression is that the administrative hierarchy was quite simple, and operated with a limited staff. The letters clearly show that all these officials were literate. Closely connected with political management, cultic institutions were certainly essential for shaping socio-economic life in general. Thus far, no remains of Old Kingdom divine temples have been discovered in Dakhla. Yet we do know that the royal cult was performed in the mrt-temples or chapels—both Pepy I and Pepy II installed such foundations in Balat. A seal issued by Pepy I (5044), engraved with the name of the mrt and the title ‘scribe of the phylè’, was widely used throughout the Residence.14 For Pepy II, a limestone stela showing the king granted life by Hathor was discovered early on by Ahmed Fakhry to the north of the site.15 Royal cult may well have been established in Balat before then, as unpublished sealings from the oldest strata of the Northern enclosure (“Sondage nord”) name royal priests (wʿb-nswt, ḥ m-nt̠r [. . .]), presumably referring to a king prior to the 6th dynasty.16 The memorial cult of the governors was established by royal decree within the framework of a ḥ wt-k¡. The decree issued by Pepy II for one of these officials explicitly defines its components: a chapel for the statue, a specific income (jm¡ḫ w) and a number of ‘ka-servants’.17 The archaeological evidence suggests that these pious foundations formed part of the households of the governors, managed together with their domestic units. High officers also controlled social order by dispensing justice. Two hieroglyphic seals alluding to judicial functions—presumably brought to Dakhla from the Memphite court for local elite, maybe for the governors themselves—are frequently used on door sealings throughout the palace. As already mentioned above, one (5044) belongs to king Pepy I and associates his mrt with a zš n z¡, scribe of a phylè, bearing the epithet sm¡ʿ wd̠¡-mdw, “who enforces judgments”.18 The second 14  L. Pantalacci, CRIPEL 22, 156–157. The objects numbers refer to the IFAO excavation inventory. 15  Inv. Ifao 1180. J. Osing, Denkmäler, no 28, p. 33 and pl. 7, 61; L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases (Warminster: 1987), p. 234 and n. 224. 16  As mentioned above, n. 2, the earliest king attested in Balat at present is Neferirkare-Kakai. 17   G. Soukiassian et al., Sanctuaires de ka, pp. 310–313; H. Goedicke, BIFAO 89 (1989), 203–212. 18  On this Old Kingdom epithet, see A. Philip-Stéfan, “Juger sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien”, in: La fonction de juger. Egypte ancienne et Mésopotamie, B. Menu ed. (Paris: Droit et cultures 47, 2004/1), 147.

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seal (6423), also dated to Pepy I, is engraved with the titles h̠ry-tp nswt, mdw rḫ yt.19 The local council, or d̠¡d̠¡t, appears mainly in the letters, since it sent, received and answered the administrative letters to and from all the oasite settlements. According to the letters, the council seems to have been in charge of checking the circulation of goods and persons. A text refers to the accounting activity of the (or a?) d̠¡d̠¡t outside the ‘capital’; given the limited number of supervisory officers, it is probable that the group of officials moved from Balat-ʿAyn Asil to other spots in Dakhla. Occasionally it could also register legal deeds, e.g. wills.20 In some cases, external competence might have been required. The control of royal administration on local management certainly did exist, as elsewhere in the Nile valley.21 A clear reference to the physical presence of Memphite officers in Balat is given by the two royal decrees found in the ḥ wt-k¡ area of the governors’ Residence, mentioning the messengers who brought the royal command.22 The word sr appears only in a few name-lists (on tablets inv. 4415; 4416; 4430) as a title or rank indicator, directly preceding personal names. All these documents were kept together in the main courtyard of the palace at the time of the fire. Did these men reside in Dakhla, or did they come from the Valley for a short period? The very limited number and con On h̠ry-tp nswt, see P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï (Les papyrus d’Abousir), Traduction et commentaire, vol. 2 (Cairo: BdE LXV, 1976/2), p. 598; N. Kanawati, Akhmim in the Old Kingdom. Part I: Chronology and Administration, (Sydney: ACE Studies 2, 1992), index p. 324 (frequent for nomarchs under Pepy I); J.C. Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir: el-Kab et el-Hawawish sous la VIe dynastie”, RdÉ 56, 2005, p. 117. For mdw rḫ yt, no 12, 17 of P. Kaplony, Die Rollsiegel des Alten Reichs. II. Katalog der Rollsiegel. B. Tafeln (Bruxelles: Monumenta Aegyptiaca 3B, 1981), pl. 101–103. This string of titles, often followed by jwn knmt, is typical of major provincial officers, especially during Pepy I’s reign: N. Kanawati, Akhmim, p. 135 (Akhmim), 278 (Meir); M. Zitman, The Necropolis of Assiut. A Case Study of Local Egyptian Funerary Culture from the Old Kingdom to the End of the Middle Kingdom, OLA 180 (2010), vol. 1, p. 73 and n. 454. 20  Tablet 5955: A. Philip-Stéfan, “Deux actes de dispositions inédits découverts dans l’oasis égyptienne de Dakhla”, RHD 83/2, avr.-juin 2005, pp. 273–281, in particular 275–277; ead. Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique. Contribution à l’étude des structures et mécanismes juridictionnels jusqu’au Nouvel Empire (Bruxelles: 2008), doc. 55, pp. 260–261. 21  Following the scheme reconstructed by J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, pp. 104–109. 22  See above, n. 1. The fact that the royal letters, from the late reign of Pepy II onwards, usually mention the name of the messenger (H. Goedicke, BIFAO 89 (1989), 209–210) might reflect a new type of link between Memphis and the provinces. 19



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text of these occurrences might reflect the occasional presence of royal srw from Memphis in Dakhla. Be that as it may, a sr was expected to play a regulating role. This appears from the use of this term in a short letter from the Northern enclosure (1508), in the syntagma sšm sr, ‘repartition of (by?) the sr’, concerning a claim to income by the governor’s spouse (ḥ mt-ḥ q¡). The Territory of Administration More or less loosely connected with the Memphite authority, the governors’ palace in Balat was viewed by the inhabitants of a large area as their capital and major administrative centre. Around it, in Dakhla proper, existed other settlements, small cities, villages, hamlets or farms.23 Indeed, most of the letters found at Balat-ʿAyn Asil were sent to the oasite capital from the secondary towns, in which a single scribe (or a few scribes ?) acted as representatives of the governor. They wrote to the council of the capital, addressing the official in charge of correspondence by his title jry-md̠¡t nty m d̠¡d̠¡t.24 For the villages or smaller rural communities, the jmy-r sḫ t, “overseer of the fields”, was probably acting as an intermediary between the governorate and the peasant communities.25 Two jmy-r sḫ t are mentioned twice in connection with delivery of grain for jm¡ḫ w-income. It seems that the fields they tended were cultivated mainly for the benefit of high officials living in Balat. Locally, they were probably responsible for managing labour and apportioning what was allotted back to their community. Moreover, Balat had regular contacts with other oases, some of them, as already mentioned, being under direct Egyptian control. This means 23  Such a secondary settlement from the late OK/early FIP is currently under excavation by the DOP project: see most recently A.J. Mills, O. Kaper, “‘Ain el-Gazzareen: Developments of the Old Kingdom Settlement”, in: The Oasis Papers 3. Proceedings of the Third International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, G.E. Bowen & C.A. Hope, eds. (Oxford: DOP Monograph 14, 2003), 123–129. For the ʿezba-type settlement we can now refer to the late Middle Kingdom complex excavated in Balat: S. Marchand, G. Soukiassian, Un habitat de la XIIIe dynastie—2e Période Intermédiaire à Ayn Asil. Balat VIII (Cairo: FIFAO 59, 2010). 24  L. Pantalacci, BIFAO 98, 306–308. 25   The use of this precise title jmy-r sḫ t seems unattested outside Balat before the Middle Kingdom: L. Pantalacci, “Agriculture, élevage et société rurale dans les oasis d'après les archives de Balat (fin de l'Ancien Empire)”, in: L’agriculture institutionnelle en Egypte ancienne, Lille, 10–11 juillet 2003, J.C. Moreno García, ed., CRIPEL 25 (2005), p. 86 et n. 38.

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that they had to provide work forces for the governors’ building projects, and deliver goods (fabrics, basketry, perhaps animals) to Balat. This is amply attested for Bahariya (D̠ sd̠s)26 and the regions (other oases?) called Msqt and Qdst, the locations of which are still unknown. The Egyptian control of these regions may have been rather loose. On the other hand, clay tablets impressed with hieroglyphic seals naming other desert areas or rural units were found in the archive dump.27 It seems that the governorate had nominated some kind of (permanent?) representative in these—more or less distant—places to keep and use this official seal. Thus the origin of a messenger could be both identified and guaranteed. The extensive use of seals reminds us that, be it inside or outside Balat-ʿAyn Asil, people involved in the administrative process must have exercised many different vocations and have been unable to read or write by means of the official writing-code.28 Nevertheless these people had a part to play in the administrative routine: they were expected to perform distant missions, to keep accounts and record the result of their reckoning under difficult conditions, etc.29 For such purposes, the seals were a convenient tool of visual communication: the many occurrences of tokens on the site underline this point, as tokens could be “read” even if both the carrier and the person who finally received him were illiterate. The low number of hieroglyphic, i.e. governmental, seals, as compared to the very popular use of cylinder- or button-seals, reflects the important part of humble local staff in the governorate at the turn of the Old Kingdom.30 This pattern was probably identical

26   G. Castel et al., Balat V. Le mastaba de Khentika (mastaba III de Balat) (Cairo: FIFAO 40, 2001), pp. 141–149; L. Pantalacci, BdE 151, 142. 27  L. Pantalacci, in: Desert Road Archaeology (Cologne, Heinrich-Barth Institut, 2013), [4–6]. The same type of object appears in Middle Kingdom Nubia, though under a different shape: B. Gratien, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 68. 28  L. Pantalacci, “Fonctionnaires et analphabètes: sur quelques pratiques administratives observées à Balat”, BIFAO 96 (1996), 364–365; see also n. 38. 29  For instance keeping account of days, or numbering animals: O.E. Kaper, H. Willems, in: Egypt in Nubia (London: 2002), 88–89. It was vital for the desert expeditions that the staff in charge of supplying food and water had an exact knowledge and was able to maintain an overview of the rations and their distribution, for men and donkeys alike: F. Förster, “With donkeys, jars and water bags into the Libyan Desert: the Abu Ballas Trail in the late Old Kingdom/First Intermediate Period”, British Museum Studies in Archaeology of Egypt and Sudan 7 (2007), www.britishmuseum .org/research/publications/bmsaes/issue_7/foerster.aspx, 1–36. 30  In the residence, the ratio of sealings bearing royal seals forms less than 10% of the corpus: L. Pantalacci, CRIPEL 22 (2002), 157.



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throughout Egyptian provinces for some time.31 Finally, the marks on clay or stone are another, most elementary contribution of the humble servants to the smooth running of the administrative process. Handling Information Transmission To carry messages between Balat and all these distant places, or to fetch people, animals or other goods, retainers from the palace staff were sent: šmsw and ¡t̠w are mentioned in several documents in connection with work forces and labour (harvesting, for instance). Even the guards (z¡w) formed an active, though less formal link between Balat and its Hinterland, bringing animals back and forth, along with various goods and news, and occasionally escorting people.32 Inside the ‘capital’ as well, servants sent as go-between were circulating frequently between different institutions. Our documents could suggest that most of the information and orders were written down and circulated by means of letters written on clay tablets. The format being very formal and brief, the information conveyed through a letter is generally limited: short requests, acknowledgements of the arrival or departure of members of the staff; disbursals of goods; etc. In reality, a good deal of other official and unofficial communications must have been carried around, either along with these letters or separately, by the messengers treading desert roads. Considering (1) the existence of tokens, (2) some hints to verbal transmission (d̠d) included in the letters themselves, and (3) the fact that a large part of the staff must have been unable to read and write, we must postulate a significant amount of oral information linking together the members of the staff, both inside the capital itself and throughout the surrounding territories. Necessarily, the bulk of communication with natives (not notably conspicuous in the Pharaonic sources) or foreign neighbours must have been verbal. A couple of documents mention the fact that the governor in person travelled outside Dakhla—presumably to meet

31  C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, AVDAIK 91 (1996), p. 241 Tab. 9, gives nearly the same ratio of 8% of institutional seals in Elephantine under the 13th dynasty. 32  L. Pantalacci, BdE 151, 143.

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foreign chiefs and their communities. We imagine that he did so because he had to transmit special information or requests from the Memphite king to these people—a task which could hardly be entrusted to a minor official. Mobility was a major requisite for all administrators. Qualified personnel was required to supervise the various workshops controlled by the residence (e.g. bakeries, flint working, pottery workshops) as well as occasional labour (quarrying expedition, tree-felling, building projects, etc.) to assure that the work was carried out on schedule and as planned. The word sšm, “distribution” is a key-word in the officers’ idiom; the use of seals or simple marks on clay moulds supposed that, near the bakers, stood, at least for a while, a member of the residence staff indicating the anticipated ‘distribution’ before the bread-moulds were fired. The scribes’ mobility is also reflected by the construction marks of Khentika’s chapel (mastaba III of the necropolis). These marks imply that administrative staff was constantly present in the quarries, then moving on to the project site to supervise the work of the different teams.33 So an important part of administrative personnel was constantly in motion, embedded in production processes. Storage As indicated above, papyri were certainly present in the archives of the residence, and might have served to store information for the long term. Otherwise, the clay tablets found in or near the governors’ residence appear to record only short-term information. Whole collections of records were discarded, presumably after the data were checked and collated—as the staff in charge left the offices, perhaps monthly. Many tablets are palimpsests, meaning that they were kept for even shorter-lived data and reused. Although it would have been easy to pour water on the clay, erase the text and reuse the tablets, some documents were definitively discarded; just why is unclear. We have no means of determining whether each tablet is a unique document, or if there were several copies of the same document stored in different places—but this last hypothesis is highly probable. In the course of the excavation of the main peristyle courtyard in the governors’ palace, a small wooden closet or podium was discovered.

 Ibid., 146–147.

33



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Storing archives near a large courtyard and close to the entrance and reception area of the palace is a feature common to Egypt and the rest of the Mediterranean world.34 Built by inserting wooden planks between the wooden columns of the portico, this place was used to store clay archives, along with other objects;35 were the tablets laid on wooden shelves? Although this area was heavily burnt, the discovery of small copper nails rather points to the use of wooden boxes in which the archives were secured. But most of the time, quite logically, clay tablets bearing accounts or inventories were stored together with the objects they mentioned, i.e. in magazines, where wooden or reed caskets, ceramic jars and leather bags were common. We cannot be certain that in storerooms tablets were kept in separate containers. In Balat it does not seem they were all stored together in separate rooms especially designed for this purpose, like in other Near Eastern palaces.36 Since many tablets, once inscribed, were pierced by the stylus used for writing, it seems probable that dossiers of documents relating to the same topic were created by tying the relevant tablets together with a vegetal string or a leather thong.37 Were these ‘bunches’ then stored inside larger containers, baskets or boxes,38 among heaps of goods? Cross-checking Generally, several officials and/or institutions were involved together in transfers of goods or persons. Thus each transaction prompted the 34  T. Palaima, “ ‘Archives’ and ‘Scribes’ and Information Hierarchy in Mycenaean Greek Linear B Records”, in: Ancient Archives and Archival Traditions: Concepts of Record-keeping in the Ancient World, M. Brosius, ed. (Oxford-New-York: Oxford studies in ancient documents, 2003), 177. 35   P. Posener-Kriéger, “Travaux de l’IFAO au cours de l’année 1988–1989”, BIFAO 89, 1989, 293–296. 36  Wooden shelves for archival storage are well known from many ancient sites in the Levant and Greece (e.g. Ebla: A. Archi, “Archival Record-keeping at Ebla 2400– 2350 BC”, in: Ancient Archives and Archival Traditions: Concepts of Record-keeping in the Ancient World, M. Brosius, ed. (Oxford-New-York: Oxford studies in ancient documents, 2003), 32–34), Kultepe (K.R. Veenhof, “Archives of Old Assyrian Traders”, ibid., 101), Pylos (T. Palaima, ibid., 177) among others. 37  It appears the tablet was pierced only after the text was written, since in some cases signs were erased in the process. The operation of piercing a solid clay tablet about 2 cm thick without breaking it must have required a specific knack. 38  Cf. in Assyria the careful archival treatment of letters: C. Michel, “La correspondance des marchands assyriens du XIXe s. av. J.-C.”, in La lettre d’archive, L. Pantalacci, ed. (Cairo: Suppl.Topoi 9/BiGen 32, 2008), 123–125.

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creation of multiple copies of the records, each so accurate that they became redundant: e.g. the disbursement of goods from a storeroom can appear in the records two or three times: –  in a letter ordering the disbursement, – in the two clay sealings produced when the storeroom had been opened and closed again by the same official on duty, – and presumably, by a separate inventory kept inside the magazine, stating the balance of products present.39 Among these multiple archival forms, the seal impressions are by far the most numerous, since it was the simplest means of keeping track of the officials responsible for any administrative deed. As simple and clear as a signature in the modern world, it did not require literacy.40 In the palace storerooms, as well as in the everyday life of the households, the process of sealing and stamping the door-bolts, bags, boxes and so on was mere routine. Near the magazines, but also throughout the living quarters of the palace, the broken sealings testifying to the closing and opening of containers were carefully collected in situ, i.e. near the container they once sealed, perhaps stored in a special box, jar or bag.41 This custom is still alive in modern Egypt. The periodical cross-checking, simultaneously carried out through the various categories of clay objects kept together as a living archive, resulted in culling tablets and sealings and discarding them in the special dump area, to the north-east of the enclosure. Based on the collections recovered from the Nubian Middle Kingdom fortresses, tentative estimates of the duration of an ‘administrative cycle’ range from 1–3 months to a year.42

 Details and exemples, La lettre d’archive, 145–146.  S.T. Smith, “Sealing Practice, Literacy and Administration in the Middle Kingdom”, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 188–194. 41   The same practice has been observed in Elephantine: C. von Pilgrim, CRIPEL 22 (2002), 161 with n. 2, 163–164. It is also common in Middle Kingdom Nubia: S.T. Smith, “The transmission of an Administrative Sealing System from Lower Nubia to Kerma”, CRIPEL 17/3 (1998), 219–222. 42  S.T. Smith, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 180–182. Conversely, in the temple of Sesostris III in Abydos, J. Wegner posits a daily compilation; therefore no practice of collecting broken sealings has been observed there: “Institutions and Officials at South Abydos: An Overview of the Sigillographic Evidence”, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 98–99. 39 40



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Managing People Identification of Persons Many lists of personal names were preserved in the archive. As is customary in Egyptian documents, the individuals are identified by their title, if any, and their name; in case they lack a title, the patronymic is written before the personal name. The lavish use of patronymics confirms that the reference to a family group was very important for identifying persons. It is well known that the “house”, or household was an important socio-economic, and administrative, framework in ancient Egypt;43 on some labels found in Balat the term pr is used to define the link between two or three individuals.44 The material from small First Intermediate Period houses and from workshops to the South of the Residence reveals the use of 4 or 5 seals in each domestic unit, all remarkably homogeneous by their dimensions and decorative patterns. It must have been difficult to identify the different seals without a close examination, but a glance would allow low-level officials to recognize their style and attribute them to a specific social or professional group. In the same way it would be plausible that all the stamp-sealings bearing njwt-sign could refer to a special category of servants.45 Long ago, it was suggested by Reisner that the seal patterns were checked and registered by the local authority.46 For major officers the seal was an object of distinction, for servants it might have been the token of their integration in a group.

43   The notion is recorded as early as the Gebelein papyri from the 4th dynasty: P. Posener-Kriéger, I Papiri di Gebelein—Scavi Farina 1935—ed. a cura di Sara Demichelis, Studi del Museo Egizio di Torino Gebelein Volume 1 (Turin, 2004), Tav. 16 (Pap. Geb. II vso, H). 44  For a presentation of these objects, but with a different understanding, see N. Grimal, “Notes sur les objets inscrits de Balat, campagne de 1981”, BIFAO 81 (1981), 202. 45  L. Pantalacci, “Sceaux et empreintes de sceaux comme critères de datation: les enseignements des fouilles de Balat”, in Des Néferkarê aux Montouhotep, Lyon, 5–7 juillet, 2001, L. Pantalacci, C. Berger El-Naggar, eds. (Lyon: Travaux de la Maison de l’Orient 40, 2005), 231. 46   G.A. Reisner, “Clay Sealings of Dynasty XIII from Uronarti Fort”, Kush 3 (1955), 50–51.

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In Balat and Dakhla as a whole, the most important concern of the governorate staff was the organization of work. On several tablets names are listed under the head t̠zt, ‘team’. As a rule, the texts do not betray the tasks for which the small teams of 5 to 10 workers were enlisted. Many of our tablets, written by and for specialists, lack any title. The layout of the text might in itself be significant, indicating hierarchy, for example; all the personal names of the workers were written in columns, except the name of the head of the gang, written on a line at the bottom of the tablet. In rare cases, original information about planning construction projects, or supervising fieldwork has been preserved.47 Such documents imply that the scribes in charge of following up such projects were quite often working outdoors, together with the teams they controlled. Managing workers from different geographical regions, or operating in unfamiliar areas, required extensive planning and robust logistics. The question of long-distance journeys of labour teams was not easy to handle when starting from the Nile Valley,48 but in the desert it must have required a highly sophisticated organization. The recent investigations of the Cologne University ACACIA project along the Abu Ballas trail have brought to light the elaborate laying and equipping of this desert road.49 Coordinating and provisioning the travels and work of the different groups must have been a real challenge for administrators. Discrepancies or even contradictions in the orders must have occurred, as betrayed by a few letters, but on the whole the system was efficient. Managing Products Institutions The archive name individuals with local titles more frequently than governmental departments or institutions. There seems to be a discrepancy 47  L. Pantalacci, in: L’organisation du travail dans l’antiquité égyptienne et mésopotamienne, 148–153. 48  For the logistics of expeditions in the Eastern desert at the beginning of the 12th dynasty, see D. Farout, BIFAO 94 (1994), 143–148. 49  A synthesis about this trail has been produced by F. Förster in his unpublished dissertation (see above, n. 2); id., British Museum Studies in Archaeology of Egypt and Sudan 7 (2007), 1–36.



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between the paucity of references to the Treasury (pr-ḥ d̠) and the Granary (šnwt)—two major departments of pharaonic administration— and the huge number of collective storerooms built to the East and South of the governors’ palace.50 Both departments are mentioned in connection with goods removed from storage. The Granary was responsible for managing food resources in the oasite ‘province’ as a whole,51 whereas the Treasury is mentioned several times as a local storage place, for instance for mrḥ t-oil and textiles.52 Nevertheless, our documents being very concise, most of the operations carried out in the palace bear no reference at all to any institution. It might be hypothesized that all the governorate records dealing with goods are implicitly related to these two institutions. The tablet 3487, a name-list, quotes two “Overseers of the Granary” (jmy-r šnwt);53 their leading position at the beginning of the list suggests that they were major officials. In another text (tablet 4991), one of them receives 40 carrying-bags t̠m¡, objects perhaps intended to be used for harvesting and filling the Granary. So far no title referring to the Treasury has been found. It is also remarkable that whereas the seal impressions from the Granary and Treasury are regularly occurring in the Nubian forts throughout the 12th dynasty,54 no seal impression naming such institutions has been identified in Balat-ʿAyn Asil. Individuals The archive included yet another category of records, the clay labels. These consist in cordiform pendants, about 5 cm high and 4 cm wide, modelled in clay, folded around a string or a long vegetal stem so as to form one or several protruding loops.55 It was thus possible to attach 50  On these numerous storerooms, see the annual excavation reports in BIFAO 97 (1997), 327; 98 (1998), 505–506; 103 (2008), 440–441; 109 (2009), 594. 51   The letter 3685 (L. Pantalacci, Lettre d’archive, 152–153) clearly indicates that the seal of the Granary, kept in Balat, had to be sent and used also in localities outside the oasite capital. This use of institutional seals far from the institutions themselves would explain the high proportion of counter-sealings in some Nubian forts during the Middle Kingdom, a situation summarized by B. Gratien, “Scellements et contrescellements au Moyen Empire en Nubie. L’apport de Mirgissa”, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 47–63. 52  Tablets 4391 et 6719 (unpublished). The management of resources in Nubia during the Middle Kingdom is similar: B. Gratien, “Les institutions égyptiennes en Nubie au Moyen Empire d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, CRIPEL 17 (1995), 155–159. 53   G. Soukiassian et al., Sanctuaires de ka, pp. 340–342. 54   B. Gratien, CRIPEL 17 (1995), 157; S.T. Smith, CRIPEL 22 (2001), 180–188. 55  See the description by N. Grimal, BIFAO 81, 1981, 201–203. The type is attested sporadically from the archaic period or early Old Kingdom through the New Kingdom,

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the labels to various containers—clay jars, baskets, nets, caskets, etc. Labels are mainly used to identify the possessor of a container, and/ or of its contents; thus most of them bear proper name(s) whereas a few others have cylinder-seal impressions. Some combine both kind of information. By this means, the officials could conveniently record and check the identity of the sender, or owner, of a container. Labels are found all over the archaeological site in Balat, whereas for the same period they appear relatively rarely outside Dakhla—perhaps only for lack of recording by earlier excavators.56 They were particularly popular in the Northern enclosure, where ten of them have been found together in a single locus. Such labels could easily be modified and reused. Storage of short, temporary information could also be achieved by writing directly on various clay objects, like door-sealings or jar stoppers.57 Large storage jars containing grain—movable silos, in a way—were stored in courtyards or store-rooms, and sometimes inscribed in cursive writing with personal names, presumably identifying their owner.58 A couple of fragments from such jars feature prominently among such objects: those inscribed with the titles and names of some of the governors. The best preserved one (4453) mentions the ‘divine offering (ḥ tp-nt̠r) made for the governor of Dakhla Medu-nefer’. Account-keeping As elsewhere in Egypt, an important part of the scribal activity consisted in keeping accounts. One of the basic tasks was collecting taxes, and redistributing goods to communities and individuals. The vocabulary describing accounting operations is limited and uses mostly the but with seal-impressions, not with texts (Eva-Maria Engel and Vera Müller, “Verschlüsse der Frühzeit: Erstellung einer Typologie”, GM 178 (2000), 41; J.-P. Pätznick, Die Siegelabrollungen und Rollsiegel der Stadt Elephantine im 3. Jahrtausend v. Chr.: Spurensicherung eines archäologischen Artefaktes. BAR International Series 1339 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2005), pp. 41–42, calls them “Krawattenknotenverschlüsse”. 56  Note that in Old Kingdom Giza, at the recently excavated “Pottery Mound”, none such label appears (J. Nolan, Mud Sealings). They might be a typically provincial feature. 57   The surface being rather unsuitable for writing, the short notes written on it are often difficult to decipher: G. Soukiassian et al., Sanctuaires de ka, pp. 365–374. This practice is also well attested in Giza, but there the notes are quite short and illegible: J. Nolan, Mud Sealings, pp. 20–21, 127 with the on-line catalogue: http://oi.uchicago .edu/research/is/scholars/nolan/catIncised.html. 58   G. Soukiassian et al., ibid.



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same words as other Old Kingdom corpora like the Abusir papyrus: jp, ‘account’ or as a verb ‘to pay’; rḫ t, ‘list/amount’; pr(t), ‘expense’; sḥ wy, ‘compendium’. A few common words are apparently used in Balat in a slightly technical way, such as zš, ‘writing, i.e. written account’. ʿḥ ʿ is noted on clay labels, probably meaning ‘global amount, credit’.59 The frequency of the word ḥ rt-ʿ, ‘arrears’, in our documents, confirms that many accounting operations were carried out in several steps over a certain period of time,60 so that permanent and accurate updating of the records was a necessity. Several letters record transactions and had to be kept to serve as accounting documents—such as this very short letter (7196): “(From) the šps-nswt Khentika. (Since) I sent one palette which is (already) with you, and another one to the rḫ -nswt and majordomo Ihykent, I don’t have any more left with me.” It seems that such notes were written in anticipation, to be used as archival testimony! Many of our texts deal with distributions of grain; the topic being quite familiar to the scribes, their notes are elliptic, most of the time not even mentioning the kind of grain involved.61 Units of measure and their abbreviations are similar to what we know from the Nile Valley. The only peculiarity in writing is the use of circles as a unit of measure for grain62. The nearly physical reality of the reckoning process is vividly felt when the accounting tablets show unusual sequences of bars (for units) and md̠¡–signs (Gardiner Sign-list V 19) for tens. These awkward pieces of writing allow us to imagine both a high heap of objects stored there, whatever they may have been, and the strict attention of the illiterate writer during the reckoning process. Mrḥ t-oil in jars, (dried?) meat, fabrics, tools, weapons, boxes, bags and nets stored in the magazines (wd̠¡w) were regularly registered and then distributed by the scribes. A few lists of objects apparently merited the explicit mention of a special attribution by the central administration to important personages of the community—family or predecessors of the ruling governor—as part of their jm¡ḫ w-income.

  M. Megally, Notions de comptabilité à propos du papyrus E 3226 du musée du Louvre (Cairo: BdE 72, 1977), pp. 56–61. 60   P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives, pp. 213–214. 61  Cultivated species are identical to those grown in the Nile Valley: the most common are jt-šmʿw and bty, zwt appearing only rarely: L. Pantalacci, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 83. 62  For instance tablet 7092, ibid. 84, fig. 2. 59

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To sum up, the main administrative rules and methods applied in the Memphite area seem to have been known and applied in Balat, though on a much smaller and simpler scale. All our sources being roughly contemporary, we get the impression that administration underwent no major change throughout the four to five generations of governors who occupied the palace. Given the distance, Memphite control will always have been rather loose. Information is too scanty to allow us to evaluate whether this situation was original or common in all the peripheral provinces—Elephantine could be a case in point. Be that as it may, the preservation in situ of the archival evidence is valuable to understand more precisely the activity and modus operandi of the staff managing the residence. This overall picture can be usefully collated with the sparse data from other provincial centres from the period between the end of the Old Kingdom and the Middle Kingdom, and can help place them into a broader context.

Setting a state anew: the central administration from the end of the Old Kingdom to the end of the Middle Kingdom Wolfram Grajetzki The administration of the Middle Kingdom shows significant differences to that of the Old Kingdom. While in both periods the highest court official was the vizier, other important Old Kingdom titles disappeared or lost their high status at the royal court. However, it is often hard to decide whether the administration itself changed or whether just different titles were used. At the Old Kingdom royal court one of the leading positions was the “overseer of the double treasury” (ἰmy-r prwy-ḥ d̠), but in the Middle Kingdom this was no longer a function title1 and the title only appears sporadically in title strings of officials.2 However, the “overseer of sealed things” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) appears in the Middle Kingdom and was one of the most important officials at the royal court, only second to the vizier. It seems that the “overseer of sealed things” took over the functions or at least parts of those from the “overseer of the double treasury”. Furthermore, in the Middle Kingdom, offices were more fixed in comparison to the Old Kingdom. In the Old Kingdom an official had several important titles. His position and power consisted of a combination of several titles and the duties behind them.3 There are several viziers who were also “overseer of the 1   The “function title” is here the main title of an official: “Amtstitel” in German, literally “Office title”. Other titles are the ranking titles which are markers of the rank at the royal court. Further titles might denote certain honours, relate to single duties or events in the life of an official. These are called in recent publications “epithets” (D.M. Doxey, Egyptian Non-Royal Epithets in the Middle Kingdom, A Social and Historical Analysis [PdÄ 12; Leiden, 1998]) or “autobiographical phrases”: S. Quirke, “Horn, Feather and Scale, and Ships: On Titles in the Middle Kingdom”, in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson, Vol. 2, P. der Manuelian, ed. [Boston, 1996], 665–677, esp. 672–673; compare the definitions, D. Franke, “Probleme der Arbeit mit altägyptischen Titeln des Mittleren Reiches”, GM 83 (1984), 103–124, esp. 106–108, 124 and W. Helck, “Titel und Titulaturen”, in: Lexikon der Ägyptologie VI, W. Helck, W. Westendorf, eds. (Wiesbaden, 1986), 596–601. 2   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte: Des origines à la fin du Moyen Empire, (Paris, 2006) covers the Old and Middle Kingdom and deals with both titles. 3  R. Müller-Wollermann, “Das ägyptische Alte Reich als Beispiel einer Weberschen Patrimonialbürokratie”, Bulletin of the Egyptological Seminar 9 (1987/88). 25–40.

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double treasury” or “overseer of the double granary” (ἰmy-r šnwty).4 This pattern changed drastically in the Middle Kingdom. The viziers and “overseer of sealed things” had many important titles, but it is rather the exception that one official had two or even more high state offices at the same time. The regular practise in the new system was that one official held only one position at a given time. There are only few exceptions. The most famous examples are the two “overseers of sealed things” Mentuhotep and Siese who also had the vizier’s titles.5 There was the “high steward” Zanofret, who was also “overseer of the double granary”6 or the “overseer of sealed things” Ipi who was also “steward”.7 However these cases are rare and disappear completely after the reign of Senusret III. The structure of title strings on Middle Kingdom monuments is different to those on monuments of the Old Kingdom. This is important for understanding the function and importance of titles. In the Old Kingdom titles were most often arranged according to their importance. The most significant titles appear at the beginning of title strings, the least important ones at their end.8 In the Middle Kingdom titles were arranged in groups of titles belonging together. Where an official had ranking titles, they most often appear at the beginning of the title string, and the function title was instead placed in front of the name.9 Between the ranking titles and the function title were placed other titles and biographical phrases. Here, only the sum of all attestations can enable us to distinguish between function and other titles. One example is the phrase “overseer of all royal works” and its variations.

4  Compare the table in: N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, The Highest Titles and their Holders (London, Boston, Henley and Melbourne, 1985), 308–309. 5  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches, (Berlin, 2000), 218–219, compare the discussion H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, The Rock Tombs of Djehutynakht (No. 17K74/1), Khnumnakht (No. 17K74/2) and Iha (No. 17K74/3), With an Essay on the History and Nature of Normarchale Rule in the Early Middle Kingdom I (OLA 155; Leuven, Paris, Dudley, MA, 2007), 100–102. 6  L. Habachi, Elephantine IV, The Sanctuary of Heqaib, Text (Mainz am Rhein 1985), 92, no. 67. 7   J.P. Allen, “The high officials of the early Middle Kingdom”, in: The Theban Necropolis, Past, Present and Future, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, ed. (London, 2003), 14–29, esp. 17, 19–20. 8   K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom: The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth dynasties, (Chicago, 1960). 9  W. Helck, “Titel und Titulaturen”, LÄ VI, 600.



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In the Old Kingdom it was one of the main titles for high officials and a title often seen in connection with the man in charge of building the king’s pyramid.10 In the Middle Kingdom the title is still well attested, but appears in title strings and rarely in front of the name. Most likely it was given for a single building project.11 Furthermore, it is known in several variations, such as “overseer of all royal works”, “overseer of all royal works in the whole country” or just “overseer of royal works”. This again provides the impression that this title with its variations was more a biographical phrase than an official appointment. It certainly does not refer to the highest official of some kind of ministry for building at the royal residence. In the administration from the end of the Old Kingdom to the end of the Middle Kingdom three main phases are visible. The First Intermediate Period continues traditions of the Old Kingdom; in the early Middle Kingdom from the re-unification of the country under Mentuhotep II to about the mid-Twelfth Dynasty, new titles and institutions appear at all levels of administration, but some traditions of the First Intermediate Period are still visible. In the mid-Twelfth Dynasty further new titles appear in our sources, other titles disappear. The country seems to have been fully reorganised. These new structures are in evidence till the end of the Middle Kingdom, towards the end of the Thirteenth Dynasty when the country fall apart and even beyond. Historical Overview and Source Base The End of the Old Kingdom to the Beginning of the Middle Kingdom After the long reign of king Pepy II, the Old Kingdom disintegrated. On a formal level kings in the Memphite region still ruled the whole country, but in practical terms there were several local rulers acting almost independently. For the Memphite region it can be expected that nothing dramatically changed and administrative structures of the Old Kingdom were continued. For this period the source base for titles is quite rich. There are the mastabas and rock cut tombs of officials and several royal decrees. However, there are no administrative papyri preserved. The biggest problem modern researchers are facing,

 N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, 217–250.  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 36–37.

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is the precise dating of monuments and the officials depicted on them. Without a king’s name it is most of the time not possible to decide whether a monument belongs still to the Sixth Dynasty or already to the time shortly after.12 The sources for the First Intermediate Period proper are even more difficult to place in a relative sequence. There are still several tombs of officials with their titles, but they are again often hard to date. Little is known of the administration of the Heraclepolitans who followed the Old Kingdom in Lower and Middle Egypt. At Heracleopolis itself some decorated tombs were found whose owners bear titles.13 Since there are not many tombs it seems dangerous to draw any further conclusions. Furthermore, the dating of these tombs is debated.14 It is uncertain whether the tombs found represent a good selection of the cemetery or whether the excavations were so far just concentrating on parts of the cemetery with a certain administrative or social profile. Therefore, the evidence from these tombs should be treated with great reservation. Several titles show already close connections to the Middle Kingdom. A certain Ibenen bears the title “chamberlain” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty) and “leader of the palace” (ḫ rp ʿḥ ).15 The former title is typical for the Middle Kingdom and not yet securely attested in the Old Kingdom and one wonders whether he dates already to the Middle Kingdom. A certain Zehu is “overseer of sealed things” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt).16 This title will become one of the most powerful offices in the Middle Kingdom, but is already sporadically found in the First Intermediate Period at a lower administrative level.17 The titles “overseer of fields” (ἰmy-r ¡ḥ wt)18 “overseer of small livestock” (ἰmy-r ʿwt)19 and “overseer of the granary” (ἰmy-r šnwty)20 also appear. All these titles relate to the  Compare the “overseer of double granary” Tjeteti: N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, 160 (‘late sixth dynasty or later’) or the vizier Tjetju, op. cit. 160–161 (‘Seventh to tenth dynasties’); for the different datings of Tjetju compare also D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom, BAR International Series 866, (Oxford, 2000), 53, no. 261. 13   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna (Barcelona 1999), 155–57. 14  H. Willems, “A Note on the Date of the Early Middle Kingdom Cemetery at Ihnâsiya al-Madîna”, GM 150 (1996), 99–109. 15   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, fig. 116. 16   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, fig. 103. 17  D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, 195–196, no. 733. 18   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, figs. 109, 110. 19   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, fig. 114. 20   J. Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, fig. 116. 12



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administration of the palace as economic unit. Titles relating to law and scribal are missing. At about the same time, Theban local governors took over parts of the royal titulary and founded an independent kingdom in Southern Upper Egypt. From this period several stelae of officials with biographical inscriptions are preserved.21 Little is known how these kings administrated their kingdom, but there are indications that this kingdom was organised along the line of a late Old Kingdom provincial court.22 There are “sealers” (ḫ tmw) and “overseers of sealed things” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt). They managed the commodities of the royal palace. Neither title is yet often attested. One wonders whether there were at the beginning just one or several “sealers” (ḫ tmw) at the royal court and whether the latter title (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) was introduced later replacing the “sealer” at least at the highest court level. Indeed, the “sealer” Heny, datable under Antef II bears ranking title never again attested for “sealers”.23 The ranking titles seem to announce a high social status at the royal court. However, ranking titles appear in the First Intermediate Period in a much wider social range than in the Old and in the Middle Kingdom.24 Any conclusion from the appearance of this type of title should be made with some reservation. The “steward” (ἰmy-r pr) managed the agricultural estates of the kings. The title is attested for the early Eleventh Dynasty.25 In this function they are already well known from many Old Kingdom mastabas as main administrators of the estates of high officials.26 The kings of the Eleventh Dynasty are well known for their military enterprises. However, titles directly connected to the military sector are almost absent in our sources and it seems that other officials were entrusted with such missions. One  Most of the texts are collected in: J.J. Clère, J. Vandier, Textes Première Intermédiaire et de la XIème Dynastie, (Brussels, 1948). 22  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (Leiden, 1958), 77, 92. 23   S. Hodjash, O. Berlev, The Egyptian Reliefs and Stelae in the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow, (Leningrad, 1982), pp. 64–66, especially p. 64, b; another title holder of the early Eleventh Dynasty is Henu (Cairo CG 20011: J.J. Clère, J. Vandier, Textes de la première période intermédiaire et de la XIe dynastie, 3–4, no. 5). 24  W. Grajetzki, “Der Gebrauch von Rangtitlen in der Provinzialverwaltung der 1. Zwischenzeit und des frühen Mittleren Reiches”, In: Begegnungen, Antike Kulturen im Niltal, Festgabe für E. Endesfelder, K.-H. Priese, W. F. Reineke, S. Wenig, C.-B. Arnst, I. Hafemann, A. Lohwasser, eds. (Leipzig, 2001), 161–170. 25  Tjebu (Cairo CG 20005; J.J. Clère, J. Vandier, Textes de la première période intermédiaire et de la XIe dynastie, 2–3, no. 3). 26  W. Helck, “Domänenvorsteher”, in: Lexikon der Ägyptologie I, W. Helck, E. Otto eds. (Wiesbaden, 1975), 1120. 21

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example is Djari, known from two stelae found at Thebes. On one of the stelae he reports battles. Here he is “ruler of an estate” (ḥ q¡ ḥ wt)27 and “overseer of the interpreters” (ἰmy-r ʿw).28 The latter title might indicate that he was guiding foreign speaking soldiers, most likely Nubians.29 The first title is that of an estate administrator. For the Eleventh Dynasty after unification, the principal sources are tombs of officials with their titles and biographies and there are many stelae and several papyri. There are also several rock inscriptions naming officials. The capital of the Eleventh Dynasty was in Upper Egypt, perhaps at Thebes. At least here were found the burials of the king and his court. Little survived of the city proper but it can be assumed that here was the main royal palace and the residence and offices of the high state officials. Around this time or shortly after the administration of the country and especially of the royal court was evidently reorganised: 1. Several new titles appear at different levels at the royal court, such as the “overseer of sealers” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmtyw) not attested at all before, and the “overseer of the enclosure” (ἰmy-r ḫ nrt). 2. Some titles known from the Old Kingdom royal court were reintroduced, such as the vizier30 and the “scribe of the king’s document” (sš ʿ n nἰswt). 3. The four main ranking titles (ἰry-pʿt, ḥ ¡ty-ʿ, ḫ tmty-bἰty, smr-wʿty) were restricted to a small number of people at the royal court and in the provinces. Now they announce the highest state officials, and were no longer given to almost everybody around the country as was the case at certain places in the First Intermediate Period.31 4. Other titles continued from the early Eleventh Dynasty, such as the “overseer of sealed things” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) and the “steward” (ἰmy-r pr). A new title at the royal court is the “overseer of gateway” (ἰmy-r

27   J.C. Moreno Garcia, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: économie, administration et organisation territoriale (Paris, 1999). 28  W.M.F. Petrie, Qurneh (British School of Archaeology in Egypt, XVI; London, 1902), pl. 2–3. 29  L. Bell, Interpreters and Egyptianized Nubians in Ancient Egyptian Foreign Policy (Ann Arbor, Michigan, 1977). 30  L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel in der Politik und Verwaltung des frühen Mittleren Reiches in Ägypten (GOF IV, 18; Wiesbaden, 1987), 148–153. 31  W. Grajetzki, in: Begegnungen, C.-B. Arnst, I. Hafemann, A. Lohwasser, eds., 161–170.



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rwyt), not yet attested in the early Eleventh Dynasty at Thebes, but is well known from the provincial administration of the late Old Kingdom.32 Finally, the “overseer of troops” (ἰmy-r mšʿ) is attested at the highest level at the royal court, a title also already found in the Old Kingdom but not known as office for men around the king. A specific feature of the early Middle Kingdom is that provincial officials were involved in the central administration. The best evidence comes from Deir el-Bersheh, where several local governors held the title of a vizier.33 A certain Iha, dating perhaps under Mentuhotep II was “overseer of the king’s appartments” (ἰmy-r ἰpt nἰswt) and worked as educator at the royal court.34 He was in the entourage of the local governor Ahanakht, who also held the title vizier. Twelfth Dynasty Under the first king of the Twelfth Dynasty, Amenemhat I, most likely around his 20th year, a new capital was founded in the North with the name Itjtawy.35 The exact location of the city is not yet known, but it might have been in the region of Lisht, where the pyramids of Amenemhat I and Senusret I were built. Itjtawy remained the main administrative centre of Egypt till the end of the Middle Kingdom in the late Thirteenth Dynasty. The central administration under Amenemhat I is still not yet fully visible. There are few dated private monuments of this reign. Some tombs around the pyramid of the king might belong to his reign, but there is always the possibility that a particular burial is later. The administration under Senusret I is much better known, with a wide range of dated sources: stelae, rock inscriptions, tombs, administrative papyri. Now appears for the first time the title “overseer of marshland dwellers” (ἰmy-r sḫ tyw).36 The “marshland dwellers” were the people  D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, 159–160, no. 612.  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 104–107. 34  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 111. 35   See, most recently D.P. Silverman, “Non-Royal Burials in the Teti Pyramid Cemetery of the Early Twelfth Dynasty”, In: Archaism and Innovation: Studies in the Culture of Middle Kingdom Egypt, D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson, J. Wegner, eds. (New Haven, Philadelphia, 2009), 47–101. 36   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC (GHP Egyptology 1; London, 2004), 70–71; Id. in: S. Quirke, “Identifying the Officials of the Fifteenth 32 33

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living in the marshes typical of the regions along east and west margins of the Delta. With the introduction of that office Senusret I most likely tried to gain control over a population not previously systematically placed under central control. The “marshland dwellers” do not otherwise appear often in Egyptian texts. The most famous example is the “Eloquent Peasant” Khuninpu appearing in the literary composition with the same (modern) name. He lived in the Wadi Natrun, in Egyptian “Salt Marshes” and is called precisely “marshland dweller”. Other “marshland dwellers” are known from inscriptions in Sinai, where they were most likely common workmen, recruited from the Eastern delta, a region close to the Sinai. The title “overseer of marshland dwellers” is so far only attested at the royal court indicating that these people and perhaps regions were directly controlled from the capital. The introduction and fuller incorporation of these people into the Egyptian administration under Senusret I is comparable with the employment of many people from the Eastern Delta in the pyramid building of the king.37 Under Senusret I and Amenemhat II there are already signs that titles changed to those of the late Middle Kingdom. This might indicate that the administrative structures of the late Middle Kingdom were already installed under these kings, although the actual titles and names of institutions are only visible under Senusret II and Senusret III. Perhaps the clearest example for this development is the title “chamberlain” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty) in its various combinations. In the early Middle Kingdom the title “chamberlain” appears most often as sole title.38 In contrast, in the late Middle Kingdom there appears often a suffix for the title: there is a “chamberlain of the inner chamber” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty n k¡p), a “chamberlain of Lower Egypt” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty n

Dynasty”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millenium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant: Chronological and Historical Implications, Papers of a Symposiumm Vienna, 10th–13th of January 2002, M. Bietak, E. Czerny, eds. (Vienna, 2004), 171–193. 37  F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht, Volume II, The Control Notes and Team Marks, (New York, 1990), 25. 38   BM 581 (H.R. Hall, E.J. Lambert, P.D. Scott-Moncrieff, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae &c. in the British Museum II [London, 1912], pl. 23); BM 587 (Id., ibid., pl. 36); BM 461 (Id., ibid., pl. 24), BM 572 (P.D. Scott-Moncrieff, Hieroglyphic texts from Egyptian stelae etc. in the British Museum I [London, 1911], pl. 22); compare H. Gauthier, “Le titre [imy-r akhenuti] (imi-ra âkhnouti) et ses acceptions diverses”, BIFAO 15 (1918), 169–206, esp. 173–178.



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t¡-mḥ w) or a “chamberlain, leader of works” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty ḫ rp k¡t).39 In the middle of the Twelfth Dynasty there is some kind of transition phase in the development of this title visible. Now, some officials with title combinations including “chamberlain” appear. There was a “chamberlain” and “overseer of all royal works”,40 most likely a title combination which can be seen as a version of the later “chamberlain, leader of works”41 Other examples are a “chamberlain” and “overseer of the double treasury”,42 which developed into “chamberlain of the treasury”—ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty n pr-ḥ d̠. Finally there was a “chamberlain” and “overseer of Upper and Lower Egypt”,43 anticipating the late Middle Kingdom “chamberlain and overseer of Lower Egypt”.44 In the mid Twelfth Dynasty a further office, the “overseer of disputes” (ἰmy-r šnt̠) appears at the royal court. Several of the title holders have the highest ranking titles. The office is already known on a local level since the late Old Kingdom and it is not entirely clear what these people were doing on the national level. On a local level they had certain juridical functions. Some of them are attested in expedition inscriptions, one of them reports the building of a wall.45 The Late Middle Kingdom For the late Middle Kingdom, the period after Senusret II to the Thirteenth Dynasty, there are few tombs, but many stelae, some important papyri, one even coming from the Theban palace and there are scarab seals and seal impressions with names and titles of officials. In the late Middle Kingdom titles in the administration became more precise: for an early Middle Kingdom title such as “steward” (ἰmy-r pr), the late Middle Kingdom added titles such as “steward who counts

39  H. Gauthier, BIFAO 15 (1918), 180–203; S. Quirke, “The Regular Titles of the late Middle Kingdom”, RdÉ 37 (1986), 107–130, esp. 125–126. 40  Cairo CG 20531. 41  H. Gauthier, BIFAO 15 (1918), 200–201. 42  Louvre C 174: W.K. Simpson, The Terrace of the Great God at Abydos: The Offering Chapels of Dynasties 12 and 13 (PPYEE 5; New Haven, Philadelphia, 1974), pl. 17 [ANOC 8.1]. 43   BM 561: W.K. Simpson, The Terrace of the Great God at Abydos, pl. 60 [ANOC 41.2]. 44   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 80. 45   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 106–107.

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cattle” (ἰmy-r pr ḥ sb ἰḥ w) or “steward who counts grain” (ἰmy-r pr ḥ sb ἰt) appear.46 Two branches of administration become visible at the royal palace: one under the vizier, the other under the “overseer of sealed things”. The vizier supervised the scribal offices and officials dealing in a wider sense with legal matters, as well as the organisation of labour forces for large scale building projects, already visible in the Reisner Papyri, where the vizier is the main person in charge of a building project. The same might be even true for the pyramid building. In the Lahun papyri one vizier appears. From this town were organised building works at a pyramid site.47 Under the “overseer of sealed things” the resources of the country for the palace were administrated. The military formed a third, separate branch of the administration.48 In the late Middle Kingdom, the highest officials at the royal court bear now the ranking title “royal sealer” (ḫ tmty-bἰty).49 The other ranking titles (ἰry-pʿt, ḥ ¡ty-ʿ), common in the early Middle Kingdom for the highest state officials, only appear sporadically and seem to denote a special favour or extreme high position. In the Thirteenth Dynasty Thebes became an important administrative centre, not just on a regional level, perhaps best visible from a vizier’s office at this place. The precision of titles in the late Middle Kingdom reached its peak in the Thirteenth Dynasty, in the period shortly before and under king Neferhotep I and his brother Sobekhotep IV. One example is the title “overseer of storerooms” (ἰmy-r st). The title is already known from the Old Kingdom. In the Middle Kingdom, the title appears at the provincial and royal courts, but never in connection with the highest ranking titles. Only in the late Middle Kingdom the title often received further precision. The “overseer of storerooms” Renpyf, in office under the “overseer of sealed things” Senebseumai, was most often called “overseer of storerooms of the overseer of sealed things” (ἰmy-r st n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt). Other examples are the “overseer of storerooms of the beer chamber” (ἰmy-r st n ʿt ḥ nḳt)

46  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya v Egipte ėpokhi Srednego t͡sarstva, (Moscow, 1978), 45–47; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 61–62. 47  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, (London, 2009), 34. 48  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 68–69; 101. 49   S. Quirke, RdÉ 37 (1986), 123–124.



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or the “overseer of the storerooms of the bread chamber” (ἰmy-r st n ʿt t¡). The datable office holders all belong to the Thirteenth Dynasty.50 For the time after Sobekhotep IV to the end of the Middle Kingdom (as period of unified kingdom) under king Aja Meneferre (or shortly after), the sources for the administration are no longer so abundant as before. Not many stelae of officials belonging to the central administration are datable to this period; there are some statues and scarab production continued. The data from these objects indicate that the administration and its structures went on without any major break. Nature of the Central Administration The overall structure of the Middle Kingdom administration remains highly problematic and the question arises what was precisely administrated. Elements of a strong central administration are visible, alongside traits of a decentralised system where local governors had a high degree of independence. Therefore, some Egyptologists have called the early Middle Kingdom feudal.51 The different elements of Middle Kingdom administration might be summarised as follows. There are indications that at least parts of the court administration were mainly concerned with matters around the king and the food supply of the royal palace and its people. In this context, the society of the New Kingdom has been called a ‘court society’,52 a classification of the Egyptian state which would certainly also apply to the Middle Kingdom. The “high steward” (ἰmy-r pr wr) was most likely chiefly administrating the domains supplying the  D. Franke, “Die Stele Inv.Nr. 4403 im Landesmuseum in Oldenburg”, SAK 10 (1983), 157–178, esp. 177; W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers of the Late Middle Kingdom, (Oxford, 2001), 52–54. 51  Already in general: M. Weber, The Agrarian Sociology of Ancient Civilizations (translated by R.I. Franke; Bristol, 1976), 38; more recent: Ch. Eyre, “Feudal Tenure and Absentee Landlords”, in: Grund und Boden in Altägypten (Rechtliche und sozioökonomische Verhältnisse), Akten des internationalen Symposions, Tübingen 18.-20. Juni 1990, S. Allam, ed. (Tübingen, 1994), 107–133. However, whether the specific term “feudal” should be used for Ancient Egypt in general and the Middle Kingdom in particular might be doubted, as the situation was certainly different in Ancient Egypt; compare in general P. Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State, (London, 1974), 403–404. 52  C. Raedler, “Zur Struktur der Hofgesellschaft Ramses’II.”, in: Der ägyptische Hof des Neuen Reiches, Seine Gesellschaft und Kultur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innenund Außenpolitik, R. Gundlach A. Klug, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2006), 39–87. 50

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palace with food, although this idea has been challenged.53 In the late Middle Kingdom several of them seem to have been in office at one time,54 perhaps for the royal domains in several parts of the country. There is little evidence that the “high steward” was in charge of all “stewards” in the country. Those at the local courts were certainly under the local governors. Other “stewards” worked on estates of officials. Perhaps, only those working on royal domains were under the charge of the “high steward”, but the evidence for that is limited. For the “overseer of fields” a similar situation is visible. At least sometimes, several of them seem to have been in charge at the same time for the royal domains, perhaps in different parts of the country. One of them is even called “overseer of the fields of the northern district” (ἰmy-r ¡ḥ wt wʿrt mḥ tt),55 another one is called “overseer of fields of the southern city” (ἰmy-r ¡ḥ wt n nwt rst).56 Both bear the ranking title “royal sealer” and belonged therefore to the highest level of administration. The “overseer of sealed things” was another important official at the royal palace and he seems to have been in charge of the resources after they reached the palace. He was also responsible for sending out expeditions to bring raw materials into the palace. However, other cases are more complicated. The “scribe of the king’s document” (sš ʿn nἰswt) or “personal scribe of the king’s document” (sš ʿn nἰswt n ḫ ftḥ r) was most likely the head of the scribal offices at the royal palace and perhaps even some kind of private secretary for the king. The title “scribe of the king’s document” is also attested at provincial level.57 It remains pure speculation whether the local officials with the title “scribe of the king’s document” were under the charge of the “scribe

 Compare the discussion J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 15 (with further references). 54  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 114. 55   Papyrus Harageh 3: P.C. Smither, “A Tax-Assesor’s Journal of the Middle Kingdom”, JEA 27 (1941), 74–76, pls. IX–IX, esp. 75, pl. IXA (the “northern district” probably refer to a local division because the papyrus might record a survey at the border of two regions; on the same papyrus are mentioned “scribes of the southern district” (sšw ¡ḥ wt wʿrt rst). 56  W.C. Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum, Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446 (Brooklyn, 1955), 72, pl. VI (insertion C). 57  W.A. Ward, Index of Egyptian Administrative and Religious Titles of the Middle Kingdom, (Beirut, 1982), 158, no. 1360; compare H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 106 where it is argued that at least some provincial title holders were under a provincial vizier. However, the title “scribe of the king’s document” is well known from Beni Hassan, where no vizier is attested. 53



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of the king’s document” at the royal palace or under the charge of the local governors. Elements of a central state are visible in other branches of the administration. First of all, there was the military sector. The Nubian fortresses were built by the central administration and most likely also managed by it. Seal impressions of viziers and their offices were found at the fortresses of Uronarti,58 Mirgissa59 and Serra East.60 The Semnah despatches are letters from the fortress of Semnah. They were found at Thebes. Among officials mentioned there, is a “high steward” belonging to the central administration.61 Secondly, there were important court titles placing officials in charge of local people, not under the charge of local governors. One of these officials was the “overseer of marshland dwellers” (ἰmy-r sḫ tyw) discussed above. These officials exploited the “marshland dwellers” at the edges of the Delta for the palace.62 The title “overseer of marshland dwellers” is not known from local courts, confirming the impression that the “marshland dwellers” were responsible to the central government. A further point are several building projects around the country. Three key complexes, the Amun-Re temple at Karnak, the temple of Atum-Re in Heliopolis and the Osiris temple in Abydos were built under Senusret I. In all three cases, it is known that palace officials were in charge of these building projects.63 A similar situation is visible in the Reisner Papyri, which also relate to early Twelfth Dynasty local building activities and where the vizier was the main person in charge.64 Finally, seal impressions found at several provincial sites should be mentioned. Those with names, institutions and titles are often from local institutions, but include a proportion from the central government. The seal impression of viziers and the vizier’s office found at the Nubian fortresses were mentioned above. However, also at other sites seals of officials belonging to the central 58  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, principally of the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period, (Oxford, 1971), n° 1775, 1845, 1849. 59  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, n° 1848. 60  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, n° 1848a. 61   P.C. Smither, “The Semna Despatches”, JEA 31 (1945), 3–10. 62   S. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millenium BC, M. Bietak, E. Czerny, eds., 183–184. 63  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 55–56 (in Abydos and Karnak the “overseer of sealed things” Mentuhotep was in charge; in Heliopolis an unnamed “overseer of the double treasury”). 64  W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II (Boston, 1965), pl. 7, 8, 10.

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government were found. The most important examples were found at Nubt in Upper Egypt. Seal impressions of a “high steward” and a “deputy overseer of sealed things” were found.65 They attest that these officials or their administration were sending goods or sealed letters or documents to Nubt.66 Altogether, the administration of the early Middle Kingdom has a mixture of decentralised and centralised features. Many court officials, especially in the economic part of the palace were mainly in charge for supplying the palace with food and raw materials, but they could also be used for national projects, such as military campaigns or temple buildings all around the country. Most local affairs were placed under the charge of the local governors, but there are indications that the central administration could also act in these provinces on its own behalf. It is hard to tell whether there is a difference between the early and late Middle Kingdom. In the late Middle Kingdom the local governors lost importance or at least they no longer built big rock cut tombs. This provides the impression of a stronger central government, but it might simply relate to changing burial customs, other sources, such as stelae and seals indicate that the administrative structures in the provinces went on without majors breaks. The Vizier and His Administration Viziers are attested from the Second Dynasty to the end of the Old Kingdom and perhaps for the early First Intermediate Period. For the Heracleopolitan Period and the early Eleventh Dynasty, so far no viziers are known.67 For the Eleventh Dynasty this does not come as a surprise as the Theban (local) kings of this Dynasty organised their small state like a big provincial court. For the administration under the Heracleopolitan kings very little is known. The lack of viziers might just reflect a gap in our sources. The next securely dated vizier dates already under king Mentuhotep II. 65  W.M.F. Petrie, Naqada and Ballas (London, 1896), 66, pl. LXXX (two “high stewards” with together over 20 seal impressions). 66  Evidence for other places is rare. The seal impressions found on Elephantine seem to belong mostly to the local administration (C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches [Mainz am Rhein, 1996], figs. 98 and 99 on pp. 242–243). Those found at Abydos South show a mixture of local and central administration (J. Wegner, “The organisation of the Temple Nfr-k3 of Senwosret III at Abydos”, Ä&L 10 [2000], 83–125, esp. figs. 10 and 11). However, this does not come as a surprise. The temple there was dedicated to the cult of a king. 67  However, see H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā. I, 106.



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Several New Kingdom tombs of viziers preserve a text, known in Egyptology as “The Duties of the Vizier”.68 The text appears almost like a treatise of administration, of a type not known for any other office until the Late Period. The dating of the composition is disputed, but there are good reasons to believe that it was composed in the late Middle Kingdom,69 especially as several titles in the text are mainly known from the late Middle Kingdom. According to this text, the vizier was the main person in charge of the whole palace administration. He also oversaw the civil and provincial administration. The vizier was responsible for correct procedures in the offices and punish in case of wrong doing. To the vizier were reported the closing and opening of certain “enclosures” (ḫ tm), which were sealed. He received notice of everybody entering and leaving the palace complex. In the same way officials responsible for the security of the palace reported to him. He met with the “overseer of sealed things” on a daily base when the two officials exchanged reports. Together, they opened the ‘Gold House’ (pr-nbw), the Egyptian term for the royal workshops.70 The vizier was the head of the provincial administration. In the tomb of the New Kingdom vizier Rekhmire local officials are depicted bringing revenues, often described in modern literature as taxes.71 Several place names are mentioned, some of which, like Wahsut (south Abydos), are of Middle Kingdom towns, no longer important in the New Kingdom, indicating that this list is a copy of a late Middle Kingdom original, reflecting the situation in that period. It further confirms the impression that the “Duties of the Vizier” in the same New Kingdom tomb were originally composed in the late Middle Kingdom. The former list shows at least that Middle Kingdom compositions were used as tomb decorations of the New Kingdom. In the “Duties of the Vizier” it is also mentioned that the vizier appoints certain local officials. In this connection, it should be remembered that in the early Middle Kingdom several governors of Khemenu (Hermopolis in Middle

68  G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier, Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom, (London, New York, 1988); S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 18–23. 69  E. Pardey, “Die Datierung der ‘Dienstanweisung für den Wesir’ und die Problematik von Tp rsj im Neuen Reich”, in: Es werde niedergelegt als Schriftstück. Festschrift für Hartwig Altenmüller, K. Martin, E. Pardey, eds. (SAK Beiheft 9; Hamburg, 2003), 323–334; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 23–24; G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier, 334–376, dates the composition to the early New Kingdom. 70  G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier, 63, especially n. 42. 71  N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Rekh-mi-Re at Thebes (New York, 1943), 104–105, pls. XXIX–XXXII.

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Egypt) received the vizier’s titles.72 The use of the title vizier by local governors in the Middle Kingdom has caused some controversy in the Egyptological literature. There are basically three opinions. J. P. Allen placed them in the succession of viziers at the royal court and regards them as “normal” viziers.73 H. Willems has argued that they were regular viziers but with provincial responsibilities.74 The third option is the possibility, that they were titulary viziers, i.e. officials bearing the title only for reasons of honour.75 For a few court officials the same problem arises. The “overseer of sealed things” Mentuhotep was in office under Senusret I and it has been claimed that he was a titulary vizier and not a regular one,76 while several other placed him in the string of vizier’s title holders of the Middle Kingdom.77 Mentuhotep is known from a wide range of monuments but bears the vizier’s titles only on a stela found at Abydos. Even in his tomb he appears always as “overseer of sealed things” and not as vizier.78 If he was a regular vizier, he was most likely only briefly in office, after his tomb complex was finished.79 An important role of the vizier was that of highest judge of Egypt.80 In the Middle Kingdom there was no institutional legal system. Legal matters were organised on different levels. In the royal estates and on private estates, the highest person in charge acted as judge. Therefore, we find the “high steward” in the Eloquent Peasant as the main judge as the “peasant” was badly treated on the estates in charge of the “high steward”. On expeditions, the expedition leader was the main juridical person. Perhaps it is therefore that, the title “priest of Maat” (ḥ m-nt̠r

72  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 102–109; Cl. Obsomer, Sésostris Ier. Étude chronologique de règne, Etude 5 (Brussels, 1995), 200–205. 73   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, ed., 25. 74  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 109. 75  M. Valloggia, “Les viziers des XIe et XIIe Dynasties”, BIFAO 74 (1974), 123–134; Cl. Obsomer, Sésostris Ier, 200–205; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 218–219. 76  D. Franke, Personendaten aus dem Mittleren Reich (20.-16. Jahrhundert v. Chr.), Dossiers 1–769 (ÄA 41; Wiesbaden 1984), 18; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 218–219 . 77   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, ed., 25. 78  D. Arnold, Middle Kingdom Tomb Architecture at Lisht (PMMAEE XXVIII; New York 2008), 38–39. 79   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, ed., 25. 80  A. Philip-Stéphan, Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique (Brussels, 2008), 74–78.



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m¡ʿt) appears in the title strings of “overseer of troops” Intef Dedu, an official in a military expedition.81 Although the “Duties of the Vizier” gives us a good idea of what viziers were meant to do, other sources need to be consulted as well in order to gain a fuller picture. There are indications that viziers could supervise building projects, best visible in the Reisner Papyri, where there are preserved several copies of letters of the vizier Intefiqer sent to “stewards” (ἰmy-r pr) concerning labour organisation.82 In the Old Kingdom there is evidence that the vizier was in charge of the building of the royal pyramid.83 For the Middle Kingdom the evidence for the vizier in this position is not conclusive. The vizier Khety appears in a legal document in the Lahun papyri and this might relate to building activity at the pyramid complex of Amenemhat III at Hawara;84 compare also the Lahun sources for a “bureau of a vizier”.85 The vizier Senusret, datable at the end of the reign of Senusret I and the beginning of that of Amenemhat II bears the title “overseer of [all royal] works”.86 Viziers are not often attested as expedition leaders, although there are remarkable exceptions, such as the vizier Amenemhat under king Mentuhotep IV attested in the Wadi Hammamat searching for a sarcophagus for his king.87 Intefiqer appears in inscription in the Wadi el-Hudi where amethyst was quarried and he appears at the Red Sea. Most importantly, he was involved in military missions in Lower Nubia, a task otherwise not given to a vizier.88 The 13th Dynasty vizier Iymeru appears in a rock inscription in the Wadi Hammamat, which

81  H.R. Hall, E.J. Lambert, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae &c. in the British Museum IV (London, 1913), pl. 2–3. For the juridical functions of officials in general see: A. Philip-Stéphan, Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique, 78–79. 82  W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II, pl. 7, 8, 10. 83  N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, 236; E. MartinPardey, “Wesir, Wesirat”, in: Lexikon der Ägyptologie VI, W. Helck, W. Westendorf, eds. (Wiesbaden, 1986), 1227–1235, esp. 1229. 84  M. Collier, S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical (BAR International Series 1209; Oxford, 2004), 118–119 (the document records the transfer of several female servants); W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 34. 85  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, no. 1847. 86  D. Arnold, Middle Kingdom Tomb Architecture at Lisht, 77. 87   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 22–23; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 26–27. 88   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 23–24; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 28–30.

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also might refer to an expedition.89 Altogether, it seems that these were rather special missions and not the daily duties of the vizier.90 There was an institution translated as “bureau of the vizier” (ḫ ¡ n t̠¡ty), which appears in several texts and on documents of the Middle and New Kingdom. This bureau is related to several places. On seals and seal impressions appear the “bureau for the vizier of the southern city” and the “bureau for the vizier of the head of the South”, both most likely referring to such a bureau in Thebes.91 Other seals refer to one vizier’s bureau in the Fayum region; one is mentioned as being in Hotep-Senusret,92 the ancient name of the pyramid town at Lahun. It may seem strange that this bureau is not yet attested explicitly for Itj-tawy, the Middle Kingdom capital, but as the main office at the capital it may have had no special qualification and been known simply as “the bureau of the vizier”. From a Second Intermediate Period stela it seems clear that here legal documents were stored.93 The official in charge of this office was the “chamberlain of the bureau of the vizier” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty n ḫ ¡ n t̠¡ty).94 Directly under the vizier there were the “great scribe of the vizier” (sš wr n t̠¡ty) and the “scribe of the vizier” (sš n t̠¡ty). They appears several times on mission for the vizier and basically seemed to have the same function as the vizier, going to places and projects where the vizier for any reasons could not go. Therefore, they fulfilled rather the task of a deputy than those of a secretary for the vizier.95 The “scribe of the vizier” is already attested in the early Middle Kingdom, the rarely attested “great scribe of the vizier” provides evidence for a hierarchy in the late Middle Kingdom. There is also a “reporter of the vizier” (wḥ mw n t̠¡ty). The title is only attested in the early Thirteenth Dynasty and perhaps even for only one official.96 His function is unclear, but

 D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 26.  E. Martin-Pardey, “Wesir, Wesirat”, LÄ VI, 1230. 91  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos 1845, 1848, 1848a, 1849. 92  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, no. 1847, other seals relate to a bureau for the Fayum. This might be the same bureau, op. cit. n° 1846, 1847a (as argued above, this bureau might relate to royal building activity organised from Lahun). 93   P. Lacau, Une stèle juridique de Karnak, ASAE Cahier no. 13 (Cairo, 1939), 30 (line 16). 94   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 85–86. 95   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 87–88.  96 All title holders bear the name Senusret, D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 492. 89 90



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might have been on a mission for the vizier and indeed reporting him of proceedings all around the country.97 In the New Kingdom there were operating two viziers, one in Lower, and the other one in Upper Egypt. There is some discussion about whether this arrangement of two title holders already existed in the late Middle Kingdom. The evidence for that is not conclusive. First of all the “Duties of the vizier”, most likely written in the late Middle Kingdom imply that there were two of them, as the heading refers to the “vizier of the Southern city” and those of the “residence” (h̠nw). However, it might be argued that the heading was a New Kingdom update and does not provide evidence for the late Middle Kingdom.98 Other evidence for two viziers are seals and seal impressions, mentioning “the bureaux of the vizier in the Southern city”.99 Again, these seals do not provide real evidence, as there is also attested a bureau of the vizier in the Fayum area and in Hetep-Senusret (Lahun).100 It seems that there were several bureaux of the vizier in several important towns in the country, but it is unlikely that each of these bureaux had a vizier there, residing permanently. In the same way the evidence from the “Stèle juridique” demonstrates, that in the Theban vizier’s bureau was consulted a document of the Thirteenth Dynasty.101 This just means that certain legal documents were kept in a place called “bureau of the vizier”. Overseer of the Enclosure, Overseer of Fields, the Scribal Offices and the Reporter Labour organisation was apart of the vizier’s responsibilities, and was administered in the late Middle Kingdom by the “great enclosure” (ḫ nrt wr),102 best known from a name-list of runaways (Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446).103 This institution organised corvée work throughout

 97  S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 87–88.  98  J. von Beckerath, Untersuchungen zur politischen Geschichte der zweiten Zwischenzeit in Ägypten (ÄFo 23; Glückstadt, 1964), 95–96.  99 G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos. 1848, 1848a. 100  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos. 1846–47a. 101   J. von Beckerath, Untersuchungen zur politischen Geschichte der zweiten Zwischenzeit, 96. 102   S. Quirke, ‘State and labour in the Middle Kingdom: A reconsideration of the term ḫ nr.t’, RdÉ 38 (1988), 83–106; Grajetzki, Court Officials, 85-86. 103  W.C. Hayes, A Papyrus of The Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn 1955.

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the country. Evidently people of different social levels had to provide temporary labour, either in person or, if wealthy enough, sending a substitute. The head of the instition was the “royal sealer” and “overseer of the enclosure” (imy-r ḫ nrt); its most often attested official was the “scribe of the great enclosure” (sš n ḫ nrt wr), indicating its bureaucratic character. Another important official under the vizier was the “overseer of fields” (ἰmy-r ¡ḥ wt).104 At the royal court, the title is sporadically attested in the Twelfth Dynasty, and then in the Thirteenth Dynasty one of the best attested court positions. At the first sight it might come as a surprise that this official did not work not under the “high steward” who was responsible for the royal domains and their fields. From a papyrus found at Harageh105 it seems clear, that the “overseer of fields” was directly responsible for measuring the fields after the Nile flood: responsible for the records of field measuring, he stood more appropriately under the administration of the vizier. Under him there was the “scribe of the fields”, perhaps doing the actual scribal work, although the title is not well attested.106 The title “overseer of fields” is also well attested at provincial courts. There are indications that several at the royal court (with ranking titles) were in office at the same time. Two appear on a stela in Rio de Janeiro.107 With all reservation it might be argued that they worked on royal domains all around the country (compare above p. 226). Under the “vizier” and closely related to the “overseer of fields” were also the scribal offices. At least one vizier was before his promotion “overseer of fields” and “personal scribe of the king’s document” (sš ʿn njswt n ḫ ft ḥ r).108 Here a connection between the registering and counting of fields is visible.109 The main person in charge of the scribal offices was the “royal sealer”, “scribe of the king’s document” (sš ʿn njswt) or “personal scribe of the king’s document”110 as the title was   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 91.   P.C. Smither, JEA 27 (1941), 74–76. 106   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 91–92. 107  Rio de Janeiro 635 + 363 (2427). 108  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 20–21; D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 501–503 (Senusretankh). 109  D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen, 51, n. 3. 110  For the reading of ʿn (“document”, “table”), see W.A. Ward, “Old Kingdom sš ʿn nsw n ḫ ft-ḥ r ‘Personal Scribe of Royal Records’, and Middle Kingdom sš ʿn nsw n ḫ ft-ḥ r, ‘Scribe of the Royal Tablet of the Court’ ”, Or. 1982 (51), 382–389. This reading is not widely excepted; compare S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 42–44. 104 105



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called in the late Middle Kingdom. Those title holders with ranking titles belonged to the highest court level. One of his main tasks might well have been to write and compose letters for the king and perhaps even write royal decrees, although this is nothing more than a guess. Two of them were close family members of the king demonstrating the king’s desire to use people of his confidence.111 There are several other scribal titles known but it is not entirely clear from the sources whether these officials were placed in charge under the “scribe of the king’s document”. There was the “scribe of documents of the king of assembly” (sš ʿn njswt sm¡yt), perhaps writing and composing certain documents, most likely rather ideological than accountancy ones.112 The “scribe of the king’s document of land” (sš ʿn njswt n s¡tw) is only rarely attested. To the scribal staff also belong lower officials with the titles “bearer for the king’s secretary” (t̠¡w n sš n njswt), “bearer for the personal documents (t̠¡w n ḫ ft-ḥ r), “bearer for the assembly” (t̠¡w n zm¡yt) and “bearer for lands” (t̠¡w n s¡tw). These “bearers” might have been attached to each of the scribal officials just mentioned. It has been proposed that they were “bearers” of documents and equipment for the scribes. Although these “bearers” never seem to had especially high position, it seems unlikely that their main task was just carrying documents. Perhaps they were in general responsible for the more ordinary work for the scribes such as keeping the offices and files in order.113 However, this remains pure speculation. A rather obscure title is the “controller of the scribes” (sḥ d̠ sšw).114 The title often received the additional prefix z¡b-official115 and is mainly attested in the late Middle Kingdom. Once a “controller of the scribes of the Southern city”116 appears. The function of these officials remains enigmatic; perhaps they were responsible for the scribes at the royal palace as workforce. Another title appearing several times at the royal court, but also well attested at a provincial level, is the “reporter” (wḥ mw—literally

111  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 84 (Iymeru was married to a ‘king’s sister’; Nebsun was related to queen Nubkhaes). 112   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 43–44. 113  D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen im Mittleren Reich, (Hamburg, 1983), 51. 114   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 90. 115   The title z¡b appears also often in connection with the title r¡-nḫ n, see W.A. Ward, Index, 147, no. 1265. 116  D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 128 (the same title also on Stela Rio de Janeiro. Inv. 646 [2436]).

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“repeater”). Some of them are attested with ranking titles and belong therefore to the highest level at the royal court. They are often found in expedition inscriptions. Perhaps the title has to be taken literally, that these officials provided reports to the king about the condition and the affairs in the country.117 Indeed, Hetepu is called “who filled the heart of the king, with that what he heard of both lands”.118 Monthaa, is “master of the hearing alone at the gateway”.119 At the palace there is also attested a “reporter of the palace approach” (wḥ mw n ʿrrwt).120 Sporadically, the title “scribe of the reporter” (sš n wḥ mw) is attested, providing evidence that at least some of these officials had their own staff.121 In the late Middle Kingdom a high proportion of officials bear titles whose functions are highly problematic: “great one of the tens of Upper Egypt” (wr md̠w šmʿw); “Mouth of Nekhen” (r¡-nḫ n) and “elder of the portal” (smsw h¡yt). The title “Mouth of Nekhen” is often combined with “zab-official” (z¡b).122 These titles are all already known from the Old Kingdom; they occur also sporadically in title strings of the early Middle Kingdom, although rarely in front of the title holder’s name so these titles were in this period rather biographical phrases and not function titles. Only in the late Middle Kingdom do they become important. From several sources, it seems clear that these officials are connected to the administration under the vizier.123 These titles appear rarely in title strings so it remains highly speculative to assign certain functions to them. On a more general level they were perhaps rather status markers than titles indicating specific functions. Another option 117  D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib auf Elephantine, Geschichte eines Provinzheiligtums im Mittleren Reich (SAGA 9; Heidelberg, 1994), 55. 118  L. Habachi, Elephantine IV, The Sanctuary of Heqaib, 89. 119   Statue, London BM EA 100 (H.R. Hall, E.J. Lambert, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae &c. in the British Museum V [London, 1914], pl. 4). 120   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 32. 121  W.A. Ward, Index, 159, nos. 1376, 1377; H.G. Fischer, Supplement, 75; a “great scribe of the reporter” (sš wr n wḥ mw) is attested on a seal impression found at Abydos South, see J. Wegner, Ägypten und Levante, X/2000, fig. 11, no. 14. 122  For these titles, see S. Quirke, “Four Titles: What is the Difference?”, In: Archaism and Innovation: Studies in the Culture of Middle Kingdom Egypt, D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson, J. Wegner, ed. (New Haven, Philadelphia, 2009), 305–316; for z¡b see D. Franke, “Ursprung und Bedeutung der Titelsequenz z¡b R¡-Nḫ n”, in: Festschrift Wolfgang Helck, H. Altenmüller, D. Wildung, ed. (SAK 11; Hamburg, 1984), 209–217. This title is often translated as “judge” which does not has any basis in the ancient sources. 123  Compare the table P. Vernus, “Une formule des shaoubtis sur un pseudo-naos de la XIIIe dynastie”, RdÉ 26 (1974), 100–114.



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is that these officials had ritual functions at the royal court. At least the “great one of the tens of Upper Egypt” is found at different social levels; some of them even had the highest ranking titles. Especially the latter and the “Mouth of Nekhen” are sometime found in expedition inscriptions but these might rather have been special missions of court officials and not so much their regular task. The Palace in the Late Middle Kingdom Papyrus Boulaq 18 is the main source for the palace administration in the late Middle Kingdom. The papyrus preserves two weeks of accounts from the Theban palace dating to the Thirteenth Dynasty. Here several lists of officials appear and many parts and institutions of the palace, attached to it or supplying it. The shena (šnʿ) “provision quarters” appears in the Papyris Boulaq 18, where “bread of the shena” (pʿt šnʿ) is mentioned.124 Certain parts of the palace are mainly known from titles of officials. The khenty (ḫ nty) “the front part” seems to be one separate unit within the palace; its main official, was the “scribe of the front part” (sš n ḫ nty). The kap (k¡p) might be translated as the “inner palace”, because the titles “child of the inner palace” (h̠rd n k¡p) and “magician of the inner palace” (ḥ k¡w n k¡p) suggest that this was the more private area.125 Part of, or another term for “inner palace” was “the house of the nurses” (pr mnʿt).126 From the title “child of the inner palace of the king’s private quarters” (h̠rd n k¡p n ἰp¡t nἰswt) it might be suggested that the “king’s private quarters” (ἰp¡t nἰswt) were part of the “inner palace”. The “king’s private quarters” do not appear in the Papyrus Boulaq 18 and are in general not often attested, mostly again only in titles. Perhaps only the palace at the main royal residence, Itjtawy had these quarters. The head of it was the “overseer of the king’s apartments” (ἰmy-r ἰp¡t nἰswt) along with the “scribe of the king’s apartments” (sš ἰp¡t nἰswt). Their functions are largely unknown,127 though, the “overseer of the king’s apartments” Iha reports in his biography that he educated the king’s children.128 This might indicate that 124  A. Scharff, “Ein Rechnungsbuch des königlichen Hofes aus der 13. Dynastie”, ZÄS 57 (1922), 51–68, with transcription pl. 1**–24**. Cf. XXX 2, 8, 9; XXXIV, 7, 8. 125   S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt, 39–40. 126   S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt, 44, 49. 127   S. Quirke, Titles and bureaux, 26–27. 128  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 65.

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these officials were not so much in charge of economic matters, but in more general care of the people living here. The Palace as Economic Unit In the Old Kingdom, the main economic branch of the palace was the “provision quarters” (šnʿ),129 with other units such as the “treasury” (pr-ḥ d̠) and the “granary” (šnwt̠). The “provision quarters” was mostly involved in food production, the “treasury” in storing commodities and the “granary” in storing food. However, it must be admitted that is often hard to see clear divisions of functions and there might be overlaps. The same institutions are still visible in the Middle Kingdom with the same names, but the officials in charge had different titles. In the Old Kingdom, the main person in charge of the “treasury” held the title “overseer of the treasury” (ἰmy-r pr ḥ d̠) or “overseer of the double treasury” (ἰmy-r prwy ḥ d̠ often together with ἰmy-r prwy nbw “overseer of the gold house”), while there was also an “overseer of the double granary”. Officials with this title operated at the highest court level.130 Instead, the “overseer of the provision quarters” (ἰmy-r pr šnʿ)131 was not on the same high level, which seems to make sense as he was looking after staples of lower value than the “overseer of the double treasury”. In the Middle Kingdom all these titles lost their functional importance, the palace as economic unit and therefore all three institutions were now under the charge of the “overseer of sealed things”132 (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt, a more precise translation is “overseer of the sealed goods”).133 The latter title itself is already known from the Old 129  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 235–327 (with full lists in transliteration of many officials working there). 130  N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, 276–99. 131  D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, 125–26, no. 501. 132  In Egyptological literature, the “overseer of sealed things” is most often called “treasurer”, sometimes “chancellor” or “chief treasurer”. To avoid confusion with the “treasury” (pr ḥ d̠), here the translation “overseer of sealed things” is used. Note that the “chief ” in “chief treasurer” is just an interpretation of the position of these officials. The title itself (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) is in the central administration, the provincial and private administration the same. “Overseers of the sealed things” at the highest court level are identified by the additional ranking titles (P. Vernus, ‘Observations sur le titre ἰmy-r¡ ḫ tmt ‘Directeur du trésor’ ”, in: Grund und Boden in Altägypten (Rechtliche und sozio-ökonomische Verhältnisse), Akten des internationalen Symposions, Tübingen 18.–20. Juni 1990, S. Allam, ed. [Tübingen, 1994], 251–260). 133   This title is clearly to be distinguish to the “overseer of sealers” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmtyw); for the different writing of both titles see D. Franke, GM 83 (1984), 114; compare the comments: S. Quirke, “Review of ‘W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner IV: Personnel



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Kingdom in a slightly different form “controller of the sealed goods” (sḥ d̠ ḫ tmt). The title element “controller” (sḥ d̠) is common for the Old Kingdom, but only appears sporadically in Middle Kingdom titles. Therefore, the title in the form ἰmy-r ḫ tmt seems to be an updated version of an older title. The new version is first attested at the very end of the Old Kingdom.134 In the Old Kingdom the “overseer of sealed things” is found almost exclusively in the administration of private households. The first example where a state official bears that title is Sehu buried at Heracleopolis and perhaps dating to the First Intermediate Period.135 The contemporary Upper Egyptian kingdom of the early Eleventh Dynasty was organised like a big private estate and therefore there was also an “overseer of sealed things”. With the unification of the country under Nebhepetre Mentuhotep this become one of the most important officials at the royal court. It remains open whether this title was copied by the Eleventh Dynasty kings from the Heracleopolitans, or whether this official was, already early on, part of the local administration. In the Middle Kingdom, from the Eleventh Dynasty on, the “overseer of sealed things” was not just one of the most important officials, but specifically only second to the vizier. He was the head of the palace as economic unit, responsible for incoming goods, their storage and further refinements. With the introduction of this office at the royal palace, it has been proposed that the property of the king was separated from the property of the state. Following this idea, the commodities of the king were administered by the “overseer of sealed things” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmt), while the commodities of the state were under the “treasury” (pr-ḥ d̠).136 However, there is no evidence for that division. In this context it should just be mentioned that the “overseer of sealed things” often held the title “overseer of the double treasury”.137 The latter title is also not attested as function title and was therefore in the Middle Kingdom more a biographical phrase. Accounts of the Early Twelfth Dynasty, (Boston, 1986)”, VA 4 (1988), 262–67, esp. 262–63, who argues that in the Eleventh Dynasty both titles were perhaps not yet distinguished. 134   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 159. 135   Padró, Etudes Historico-archéologiques zur Héracléopolis Magna, fig. 103; compare for the problems of dating: H. Willems, GM 150 (1996), 99–109. 136  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 83. 137  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, pl. 9.

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The administration under the “overseer of sealed things” is well known from the stelae set up by officials working under the “overseers of sealed things” in the late Middle Kingdom. Most of the officials there worked in the “provision quarter” (šnʿ), while almost no officials appear there connected with the “treasury”. At a first glance one might beginning to doubt whether the “overseer of sealed things” was really in charge of the “treasury”, but another option is that the known monuments—mainly stelae from Abydos—were set up on certain occasions where the “provision quarters” was more important than the “treasury”. The administration of the “treasury” appears instead often in inscription in Sinai and those of the Wadi el-Hudi where amethyst was collected. Altogether, these might already provide a clue to a different function of these institutions. Officials at Abydos were mainly involved at royal building projects.138 Here the “provision quarters” is prominent on stelae. In Sinai raw materials were collected. Here the “treasury” officials appear, presumably in charge of procuring these materials for the residence. As already indicated, the Abydos stelae are the best source for the management of the “provision quarters” of the palace. It seems that many stelae were set up by officials on different levels who worked together. One important official under the “overseer of sealed things” or even almost on the same level was the “high steward” (ἰmy-r pr wr), not so much in charge of a palace unit, but in charge of the estates supplying the palace with food. Under, or even next to the “overseer of sealed things”, there was the “deputy overseer of sealed things” (ἰdnw n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt).139 From the few sources it seems that they had basically the same duties as the “treasurers”, put in charge in cases when the “overseer of sealed things” was not able to attend in person.140 It seems likely that this office was just given to officials for a certain mission, as most of the title holders are only once attested. Some title holders have a second function title, something not common in the Middle Kingdom, e.g. the “high steward” Amenyseneb141 and the “overseer 138   S. Quirke, “Six Hieroglyphic Inscriptions in the University College Dublin”, RdÉ 51 (2000), 223–243, esp. 232–233. 139   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 350–362 (with list of title holders). 140  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 82–83; S. Quirke, Titles and bureaux, 49–50. 141  Cairo CG 20435 (he bears three names: Ameny, Amenyseneb and Kemes; there are indeed other title holders with these common names attested, compare D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 128).



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of the half domain” (ἰmy-r gs-pr) Sehetepibre.142 This also provides the impression that the title “deputy overseer of sealed things” was just given for a certain mission. Some of the “deputy overseers of sealed things” had ranking titles and so were technically almost on the same level as the “overseer of sealed things”.143 Another official working close to the “overseer of sealed things” was the “scribe of the overseer of sealed things” (sš n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) or “great scribe of the overseer of sealed things” (sš wr n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt),144 perhaps functioning as some kind of secretary and being on mission for the “overseer of sealed things”. Unlike the “deputy overseer of sealed things” there is no sign that these officials were put in charge just for one mission. The “deputy overseer of sealed things” and “scribe of the overseer of sealed things” were the officials working closest to the “overseer of sealed things” himself. Other officials working for the “overseer of sealed things” and perhaps with similar or even identical functions were the “sealers” (ḫ tmw). “Sealers” are attested at several places, such as private and provincial households and courts. They might have been in charge of the commodities there. The “assistant sealer of the overseer of sealed things” (ḫ tmw h̠r-ʿ n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt),145 “assistant sealer” (ḫ tmw h̠r-ʿ)146 or “assistant of the overseer of sealed things” (h̠r-ʿ n ἰmy-r ḫ tmt) worked perhaps directly under the “overseer of sealed things”, while an official such as the “sealer of the vizier” (ḫ tmw n t̠¡ty)147 might have been responsible for the private commodities of that official. W. Helck proposed that in the hierarchy between the “overseer of sealed things” and the “sealers” there was the “overseer of sealers” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmtἰw).148 However, there is little evidence for that and there are even indications that some “overseers of seal” were simple “sealers” before they were promoted.149 A further official closely related to the “overseer of sealed things” is the “king’s acquaintance” (rḫ nἰswt). The title “king’s acquaintance”  Cairo CG 20538.  For example: Cairo CG 20538 (Sehetepibre); W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 47, fig. 10 (Ameny); Cairo CG 20086 (Ibiau). 144   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 56. 145   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 381 (list of title holders). 146   P. Vernus, “La stèle C3 du Louvre”, RdÉ 25 (1973), 217–234, esp. 222; O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 180–181, 185. 147  W.A. Ward, Index, 173, no. 1499. 148  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 84. 149  Examples are Meketre (J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 16) and Neferi (W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 78). 142 143

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as function title appears in the late Middle Kingdom. The role of “king’s acquaintance” is not clear in the sources. W. Ward did not even include it in his dictionary of Middle Kingdom titles arguing that this was an “honorific epithet” rather than a proper title.150 In the early Middle Kingdom “king’s acquaintance” appears often in the function of a ranking title, either as sole ranking title or at the end of a longer title string. Most often the title has an extension including “beloved” (mry.f ) or “true” (m¡ʿ). As ranking title “king’s acquaintance” becomes rare in the late Middle Kingdom, but now, there are many officials with the title “king’s acquaintance” as sole title before a name and without extension. In other words, the “king’s acquaintance” appears in the position of a function title. Officials with the title appear quite often on monuments together with the “overseer of sealed things” and there is even the case of the “overseer of sealed things” Senebi who was “king’s acquaintance” earlier in his career.151 For others there is evidence that they were appointed “high steward”, such as the “high stewards” Nebankh,152 Senebi-khered153 and perhaps Rehuankh.154 All those examples date to the Thirteenth Dynasty. The “king’s acquaintance” was often on a mission for the “overseer of sealed things”. The “king’s acquaintance” Nebankh appears in several inscriptions in the Aswan region. He was on the staff of the “overseer of sealed things” Senebi.155 Rehuankh is known from inscriptions in the Wadi el-Hudi and appears on stelae on the staff of the “overseer of sealed things” Senebi.156 In the great inscription of king Neferhotep I from Abydos, reporting the making of a new image of Osiris, an unnamed “king’s acquaintance” is the main person receiving orders from the king and sent on a mission to Abydos.157 Officials with the title “king’s acquaintance” are also known from their own stelae and here they are often connected with officials working in the provision quarter of the palace. Here, they appear in a similar position as the “overseer of store rooms”

 W.A. Ward, Index, 1.  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 26, 30. 152  D. Franke, Personendaten, 201, Doss. 294. 153  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 44 (appears there as snbj-šrj). 154  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 43. 155  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 42. 156  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 43. 157  W. Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (KÄT; Wiesbaden, 1983), 23. 150 151



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(ἰmy-r st),158 who is also found closely connected to the “overseer of sealed things”.159 This is an office already known from the Old Kingdom, and placed under the “overseer of sealed things” in the early Middle Kingdom as can be seen from the burial of the “overseer of store rooms” Wah close to the tomb of the “overseer of sealed things” and “high steward” Meketre.160 The “overseer of store rooms” was the main person in charge of several (food) production and storage units (in the provisions quarters) at the royal palace. The “chamberlain of the inner palace” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty n k¡p) was responsible for supplying the palace with food, as attested in pBoulaq 18. There were perhaps always two of these officials at the same time as can be concluded from the appearance of two title holders on several stelae and in the pBoulaq 18.161 There is even once a “chief chamberlain of the inner palace” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwty wr n k¡p), indicating that at least at a certain period one of them was place above the others.162 Another official appearing on this level was the “scribe of the front part” (sš n ḫ nty).163 While the “chamberlain of the inner palace” had more or less unlimited access to all parts of the palace, the “scribe of the front part” operated only in the part of the palace called “the front part”,164 which was more closely related to the economic parts of this institution, while the inner palace contained in the narrower sense its living quarters. The “scribe of the front part” may have been required to record the deliveries of goods, such as food from the outer to the inner palace.165 In the “provision quarter” (šnʿ),166 the main person in charge, below the “overseer of sealed things”, was the “overseer of store rooms”; under him there were single units of the store, called “chambers” (ʿt). They

158  W.A. Ward, “The ʿt ḥ nḳt ‘kitchen’ and the kitchen staff of Middle Kingdom Private Estates”, CdE LVII/114 (1982), 191–200. 159  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 52–53. 160  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 129. 161   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 27. 162  On the stela of queen Nubkhas, datable under Sobekhotep IV or shortly after. 163   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 32–33. 164   S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom, The Hieratic Documents (New Malden, 1990), 104. 165  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 252; S. Quirke, Titles and bureaux, 33. 166   The most complete study is still O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 126– 263; also useful for non Russian readers, as it contains long lists of titles and title holders in transliteration.

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were administrated by officials with titles such as “chamber keeper of the chamber of bread” (ἰry-ʿt ʿt-t’) or “chamber keeper of the chamber of beer” (ἰry-ʿt ʿt ḥ nḳt).167 A lower official working here was the “attendant” (ἰḥ ms).168 A wide range of these types of titles are attested and it seems that only the most important ones were more permanent institutions, while those only attested rarely or once seems to have been appointed because such ‘chamber’ was needed at a certain time. These are the most important chambers, although, not all of them must belong to the administration of the “provision quarter”: “linen” (ḥ nḳwt),169 palace (ʿḥ ), palace (pr-ʿ¡), “treasury” (pr-ḥ d̠), “collar” (strw), “provision quarter” (šnʿw), “followers” (šmsww), “inner palace” (k¡p). Finally there was the title “guardian of meat” (z¡w ἰwf ).170 The function of these chambers is not entirely clear. The existence of a chamber of beer or bread might indicate that food was prepared or stored there. However, there was also a “chamber of Byblos” and the most common title of this type is the “keeper of the chamber of the palace” (ἰry-ʿt n ʿḥ ).171 This might indicate that food, but also other items were stored here; either certain types, or those coming from a certain place such as Byblos, or those needed for an institution, such as the palace.172 These “chambers” are best known from the late Middle Kingdom stelae, giving the impression that they were a typical late Middle Kingdom institution in palaces and perhaps also in private households. However, there are references to this “chamber” in the early Middle Kingdom tomb of Djehutynakht at Deir el-Bersheh. This might indicate that the whole administrative system was already functioning in the early Middle Kingdom, but only appears in administration of the more precise sources of the late Middle Kingdom, when a wider range of officials is attested, including lower ranks on stelae and other monuments.173

167  For a full list of these O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 237–245; W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 55–56. 168  W.A. Ward, Index, 67–68, nos. 561–568. 169  Or “incoming goods”? compare S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 73. 170  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 237–245, only those attested five or more times are included. 171  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 56–57 (list of title holders). 172  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 93–94. 173  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā, Vol. I, 94.



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The “cupbearer” (wdpw) was the official in charge of bringing the food from these “chambers” to the place of eating.174 The title is again attested with different specifications, the most common being the “cupbearer of the bread chamber” (wdpw n ʿt t’).175 One common title combination was also “keeper of the chamber, cupbearer” (ἰry-ʿt wdpw), demonstrating the close link of these “cupbearers” with “chambers”.176 An important part of the economic part of the palace was the administration of linen placed under the “overseer of sealed things”. The main officials in charge are the “keeper of linen” (ἰry ḥ nkwt) and the “keeper of clothing” (ἰry ḥ sbw).177 In the Eleventh Dynasty the “overseer of sealed things” supplied the burials of royal women with linen.178 Closely connected to the “overseer of sealed things” was the “treasury” (literally translated as “house of silver” or “white house”—pr ḥ d̠), most often appearing in the sources as “double treasury” (prwy-ḥ d̠), such as in the Papyrus Boulaq 18. In the Old and New Kingdoms the title “overseer of the double treasury” (ἰmy-r prwy ḥ d̠ often together with ἰmy-r prwy nbw “overseer of the gold house”) was one of the most important offices at the royal court.179 In the early Middle Kingdom the title “overseer of the double treasury” appears mainly in title strings of high officials and seems therefore more a biographical phrase than a pure function title. There is hardly any official with this title as sole one. For this reason it is no great surprise that the title falls out of use in the middle of the Twelfth Dynasty, when in general biographical phrases became rare. The “treasury” was most likely the place within the palace were precious goods were stored and administrated. Its full staff is again only visible on monuments of the late Middle Kingdom. In the late Middle Kingdom there appear the titles “chamberlain of the treasury” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwtἰ n pr-ḥ d̠) or “great chamberlain of the treasury” (ἰmy-r ʿh̠nwtἰ wr n pr-ḥ d̠).180 The titles do not seem of particular high rank in the hierarchy. They appear several times in inscriptions from Sinai. Part of their responsibilities was therefore to collect raw

 O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 262–264.  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 280. 176  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 280–285. 177   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 72–75 (the translation of ἰry ḥ nkwt as “keeper of linen” is not certain). 178   J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 18–19. 179  N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom, 276–299. 180   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 344. 174 175

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materials for the palace treasury.181 In these inscriptions, they bear the designation “god’s sealer” (ḫ tmty-nt̠r), a common title for expedition leaders, but not a function title.182 For the “treasury” a whole separate staff is attested.183 There was a “scribe of the treasury” (sš pr-ḥ d̠),184 a “chamber keeper of the treasury” (ἰry-ʿt pr-ḥ d̠),185 most likely responsible for single units and contents within the whole institution, and a “steward of the treasury” (ἰmy-r pr n pr-ḥ d̠).186 The “treasury” had its own fleet, responsible for transportation of the commodities.187 There were also several craftsmen working for the “treasury”, indicating that it was not only a place for storing commodities, but also a place of production.188 Another economic office at the palace is that of the “master of distribution” (ḥ ry-wd̠b). The title is not often attested, but stood at least sometimes at the highest level of palace administration. The “overseer of sealed things” Mentuhotep bears the title on his great stela found at Abydos.189 In the Thirteenth Dynasty some officials with the title are also “royal sealer”190 and one is shown on the stela of the “high steward” Senebsumai, almost equal to the latter.191 There is finally the case of a certain “master of distribution” with the name Nehysenebi, perhaps identical with a “high steward” with the same name.192 The function of the “master of distribution” remains guesswork. At the palace there were also several lower officials with the title “domestic servant of the palace” (ḥ ry-pr n pr-ʿ¡). While the “steward” (ἰmy-r pr—literally “overseer of the house”) was in charge of whole estates, the “domestic servant of the palace” was most likely indeed just

181  A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet (ed. and completed by J. Černý) The Inscriptions of Sinai, Part II, (London, 1955), 15. 182   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 78. 183   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 358–362 (all officials belong to the late Middle Kingdom, the stela with a “scribe of the treasury” cited at the beginning as belong to the 11th Dynasty, dates to the late Middle Kingdom too). 184   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 384. 185   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 375. 186   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 369. 187   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 57–60. 188   S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 390–391. 189  Cairo CG 20539. 190  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos 48a, 780. 191  Cairo CG 20075; compare the discussion in W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 125–127. 192  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 97.



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in charge of the domestic parts of a house.193 The simple title “domestic servant” (ḥ ry-pr) is one of the more common Middle Kingdom titles and is also known in a female form (ḥ ryt-pr). Many of these title holders were working in the private households of higher officials.194 At the palace there were again under the charge of the “overseer of sealed things”. A further obscure title, not often attested is the “director of the palace” (ḫ rp ʿḥ ). In the Old Kingdom the title holders seem to hold ritual roles around the king but was also attached in some way to the economic part of the palace. In the Middle Kingdom the title is twice connected with a “high steward” and title holders are attested on the Sinai, pointing again to a function in the economic part of the palace. The word ʿḥ for palace is further attested in the title “keeper of the chamber of the palace” (ἰry-ʿt n ʿḥ ) and “domestic servant of the palace” (ḥ ry-pr ʿḥ ).195 Again supporting the connection to the palace as economic unit. The High Steward and His Administration Just under the “overseer of sealed things”, stood the “high steward” (ἰmy-r pr wr). The origin of the title is, once again, the private administration of the Old Kingdom. High officials, including local governors of the Old Kingdom had big estates administrated by a “steward” (ἰmy-r pr).196 Like the “overseer of sealed things”, “stewards” are not attested at this date in the palace administration.197 The estates of the Old Kingdom kings were under the charge of other people. In the late Eleventh Dynasty the title appears as one of the highest officials at the royal court. It is still attested in the Old Kingdom form of a “steward”, although sometimes with the extension “in the whole country”, announcing a higher position than other “stewards”. However, this extension appeared only sporadically and the main distinction between the main royal “stewards” and common “stewards”

 O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 129–134.  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 155–157. 195  O. Berlev, Obshchestvennye otnosheniya, 133; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 45–47. 196  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 92. 197  W. Helck, Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Alten Ägypten im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend (HdO I, 1.5; Leiden/Köln, 1975), 131–133. 193 194

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would seem to be again the high ranking titles. Two “stewards” with the ranking titles are attested for the late Eleventh Dynasty.198 In the early Twelfth Dynasty the addition “great” appeared, while “in the whole country” was also used (ἰmy-r pr wr m t¡-r-d̠r.f ). Under Amenemhat II and later, the title was just called “high steward”.199 It is not easy to reconstruct the administrative structure under the “high steward”. First of all, little is known about land-ownership in Middle Kingdom Egypt. Helck had taken this title as evidence that the king and the palace had their own fields and estates which the “high steward” managed, while there were also fields and estates belonging to the “state”.200 He envisaged for the Middle Kingdom a separation of state and king’s property. First, it might be questioned who was in charge of the “state” estates. Furthermore, the title addition “in the entire land” might indicate a much wider responsibility of the “high steward” not only restricted to the estates of the royal court, although one might ask whether this addition can be taken literally or whether it was just a way to express, that this was the most important “steward”, the “steward”, directly working for the king at the highest palace level. It could also be argued that there were royal estates all over the country. There is surprisingly little evidence that the “high steward” was in charge of other “stewards”. There are no letters of “high steward” to “steward” and simple “stewards” do not often appear on stelae of “high stewards” with the staff of the latter. Ordinary “stewards” worked in all parts of the country and in all parts of the administration. They organised the estates of other high officials201 and members of the royal family202 or they worked for institutions, such as temples. In the Reisner Papyri, the accounts of some building work in the Thinite nome, there appear several “stewards” under the vizier, who was the main person in charge of a royal project in this region. If the “high steward” was in charge of the royal estates all over the country it might be argued that he was also the person in charge of the “stewards” working on the

198  Henenu and Buau (J.P. Allen, in: The Theban Necropolis, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, eds., 16). 199  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 106–107. 200  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 92. 201   “Steward” of a “vizier”: Florence Iv. N. 2579; S. Bosticco, Museo Archaeologico de Firenze, Le Stele Egiziane dall’Antico al Nuovo Regno (Rome, 1959), 44, no. 39. 202   “Stewards” of queens: J.J. Clère, J. Vandier, Textes Première Intermédiaire et de la XIème Dynastie, 27, 32 (sarcophagi of Aashyt and Kawit; 11th Dynasty); stela Leiden 17 (“steward of the king’s wife Nen”, Pesesh; 13th Dynasty).



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royal estates. However, secure evidence for such a command chain is so far almost entirely missing. It might be argued that the career of Kheperkare points to such a command chain. He was first “steward” and at the end of his career “high steward”.203 The other titles of the “high steward” confirm their responsibility for the estates in terms of agricultural products. Some “high stewards” are also “overseer of the double granary”, “overseer of the horned, hoofed, feathered and scaled animals”.204 Under the “high steward” there was the “deputy high steward” (ἰdnw n ἰmy-r pr wr).205 The title is not so well attested as the “deputy overseer of sealed things” and unlike the latter title, the title holders are not securely attested with ranking titles. In the late Middle Kingdom the “high steward” was working at the palace closely together with the “overseer of sealers” (ἰmy-r ḫ tmtἰw), who also belonged to the select group of highest state officials with ranking titles. The close connection between the two officials is visible from several observations. First, there are at least eight “overseers of sealers” who later were appointed “high steward”.206 All date to the Thirteenth Dynasty. At the same time, both officials shared the title additions “who follows the king” (šmsw nἰswt) and “who is in the chamber” (ἰmἰ-ἰz). The first addition certainly expressed a close relation of the official to the king, perhaps on missions outside of the palace, while the second title addition (less often attested) might indicate that these officials worked at the palace.207 These title additions are not attested for other officials and they do not appear in the title strings of all “high stewards” and “overseer of sealers”. Moreover, the “high steward” was sometimes also called “distributor of staff lists”/“the one circulating commissions” (wd̠b wpt),208 while the “overseer of sealers” was also “hearer of the production place” (sd̠m šnʿ) and “hearer of people” (sd̠m rmt̠).209 “Hearer” might refer to some kind of a juridical function for a work force. The titles expressed the responsibility of the “overseer of sealers” for lower officials which included some juridical

 D. Franke, Personendaten, Doss. 457.  Compare the table: W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 109. 205   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 61. 206  W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 157. 207   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 50. 208  M. Valloggia, “À propos du titre [wd̠b wpt] ‘économe’”, BIFAO 76 (1976), 343– 46; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 51 (the translation depends on the word wpwt in this title). 209   S. Quirke, RdÉ 37 (1986), 126–127. 203 204

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functions.210 A further link between these two high officials is the title “great scribe of the hearer of people” (sš wr sd̠mw rmt̠) with the variation “great scribe of the hearer” (sš wr sd̠mw), most likely working close to both officials. The known title holders often appear on stelae of “high stewards”.211 Together it seems that the “high steward” was mainly responsible for the royal domains and for the agrarian products, such as grain but also for cattle and other animals. The “overseer of sealers” was then responsible for these items and animals when they arrived at the palace. He would oversee the workforce preparing agrarian products, and perhaps sealed and stored them.212 In the early Middle Kingdom and in the Thirteenth Dynasty (but not in the late Twelfth Dynasty) the “high steward” was sometimes sent on expeditions. Under Mentuhotep III, Henenu is attested on a mission to Punt; under Senusret I, Hor was despatched to the Wadi el Hudi (a region for Amethyst mining). The Thirteenth Dynasty “high steward” Nebankh is attested in the Wadi el Hudi too, as well as in the Wadi Hammamat (hard stone).213 However, these expeditions are perhaps special missions, where the king chooses one of his closest courtiers. Practice of Sealing Sealing was evidently not just in the name of the title, but in practice an important part of the administration under the “overseer of sealed things”. For many of them a high number of scarab seals are known, while for the contemporary viziers just one or two are so far attested.214 The administration under the “overseer of sealed things” was mainly concerned with commodities. For their control, sealing was important.

210  D. Franke, “Beitrag zum ‘Richter der Arbeiter (sd̠mj šnʿw)’, GM 53, 1982, 15–21”, GM 54 (1982), 51–52. 211  W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 12–13. 212   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 51. 213   K.J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu den Expeditionen des Mittleren Reiches in die Ost-Wüste (HÄB 15; Hildesheim, 1981), 267. 214  Compare the “overseer of sealed things” Senebsumai (32 seals), G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos. 534–35, 1513–1541a and the “overseer of sealed things” Senebi (10 seals), ibid. nos. 1547–1556; with the “vizier” Ankhu (1 seal ), ibid. no. 337 and the “vizier” Iymeru (1 seal), ibid. no. 49; compare the discussion S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Egypte, 404–411.



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In the administration under the “vizier” sealings might have been used mainly for sealing letters and documents.215 The practise of sealing is already known from the predynastic period in the form of cylinder seals. Often they bear titles of officials, those of institutions and/or the name of the king. In the First Intermediate Period button seals appear. The earlier examples are most often round with an incised motive on the underside. They no longer bear the names or titles of officials or of kings.216 By the end of the First Intermediate Period they developed into scarab shaped seals. For the early Middle Kingdom, there is good evidence for sealing commodities.217 Only in the late Middle Kingdom from about Senusret III onwards, seals again bear the titles and name of officials. Especially in excavations of Thirteenth Dynasty settlement sites and fortresses huge numbers of seal impressions have been found showing that sealing goods was an important administrative practice or that at least the deposition practice changed.218 Next to the seals with name and titles of officials, there are also seals with the name of an institution not naming an official. Although name and title scarabs are typical for that period, these seals still do not belong to the most common; seals with decorative patterns are still the most common one. In the recent excavations on Elephantine, about 92% of the sealings dating to the late Middle Kingdom were just decorated with ornaments.219 It has been argued that the high number of seals relate to a reform of administration.220 However, this can be seen in a wider context. It has been shown that in exactly this period, titles became very detailed. The extremely specific titles and the higher number of sealings might indicate a wish for 215   The observations relates mainly to the central administration. In the local administration, things might be somewhat different. 216  L. Pantalacci, “Fonctionnaires et analphabètes: sur quelques practiques administratives observées à Balat”, BIFAO 96 (1996), 359–367. 217  T. Bagh, “Early Middle Kingdom Seals and Sealings from Abu Ghâlib in the Western Nile Delta—Observations”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant: Chronological and Historical Implications, Papers of a Symposium, Vienna, 10th–13th of January 2002, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds. (Wien, 2004), 13–25. 218  C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches, 252. 219  C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches, 249. 220   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period, c. 1800–15500 B.C. (Carsten Niebuhr Institute Publications 20; Copenhagen, 1997), 297.

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more control on several levels. In most cases an object bears only the impression of one seal. However, there is also the practice that objects had two or even three seal impressions (“counter sealings”). Perhaps a commodity was sealed by one institution or official and after that for better control by another official, although it is also possible that both seals were used by only one official, one seal for the institution he was working for and the other seal as personal one, identifying the sealing official.221 Craftsmen Part of the palace most likely comprise also workshops. There is evidence that they were placed under the administration of the “overseer of sealed things”.222 These craftsmen were organised in “sections” (wʿrt). The head of each was the “overseer of the section” (ἰmy-r wʿrt). The title is sporadically attested in the early Middle Kingdom.223 In the late Middle Kingdom the expression of these section overseers became specialised. There is now a “section overseer of furniture carving” (ἰmy-r wʿrt n ἰrw wḥ mt) or a “section overseer” of “gold workers” (ἰmy-r wʿrt n nbyw), most likely in charge of common workmen. Other crafts or arts placed under a section are “builders” (ἰqdw), “jewellers” (msw-ʿ¡t), “laundrymen” (rḫ tyw), “coppersmiths” (ḥ mtyw), “sculpurs” ( gnwtyw), “draughtsmen” (sš ḳdwt), “sandalmakers” (t̠bwtyw) and “glaze workers” (t̠hntyw).224 Under these “section overseers” there were perhaps already the craftsmen themselves, but there are several indications that in a level between were overseers of these workmen. On a stela in Cairo

221  C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches, 251. 222  Compare for example the stela Marseilles 223 belonging to a “kings acquaintance” (Grajetzki, Two Treasurers, 24). The “kings acquaintance” belonged to the administration under the “overseer of sealed things”. On the stela also appears an “overseer of the sections of goldsmiths”. On stela CG 20560 appears a “overseer of the sections of coppersmiths”. On the same stelae appear two “coppersmiths of the treasury” (ḥ mwtἰ n pr-ḥ d̠). Two “royal carpenters” appear on another stela of a “kings acquaintance” (Cairo CG 20282). 223  W.A. Ward, Index, 19, no. 108; add H.G. Fischer, Egyptian Titles of the Middle Kingdom, A Supplement to Wm. Ward’s Index (New York, 1997), 42, no. 108 (Louvre C17). 224   S. Quirke, in: Discovering Egypt from the Neva, 90–91 (list of the titles with title holders).



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appears a “section overseer” next to an “overseer of builders” (ἰqdw);225 on the stela of a “section overseer of coppersmiths” also appears an “overseer of coppersmiths” (ἰmy-r ḥ mtyw).226 Another palace title in the context is the “royal carpenter” (md̠ḥ njswt). Two are shown on the stela of the “king’s acquaintance” (rḫ nἰswt) Senen, dating to the Thirteenth Dynasty.227 Another one appears on a stela together with a “section overseer” and several “furniture carvers” (ἰrw wḥ mt).228 How these “royal carpenters” fit into the hierarchy remains open. Other Palace Officials The “overseer of the gateway” (ἰmy-r rwyt) is attested since the late Old Kingdom, in the provincial administration, but not known from the Old Kingdom royal court. It is most likely one of those titles entering the Middle Kingdom royal court from the provincial administration. The Middle Kingdom title holders at the royal court bear ranking titles and are attested from the late Eleventh to the Thirteenth Dynasty.229 In the Middle Kingdom the title is still attested at local courts and there are perhaps also holders of the title, who did not belong to local courts and did not have ranking titles at the royal court. Although some of the holders of the title were highly influential officials with the highest ranking titles, the absence of ranking titles for other title holders might indicate that ranking titles were not automatically attached to that office. In the absence of informative autobiographical phrases it is hard to gain even the vaguest picture about the function of these officials. On one side, there seems to be a connection to the vizier, as the Eleventh Dynasty vizier Dagi was “overseer of the gateway” before he was promoted. On the other side, there are indications that the office was connected to the economic administration of the palace. In Asyut there is the “overseer of sealed things” Nakht, also “overseer of

 Cairo CG 20081.  Cairo CG 20560; compare discussion S. Quirke, “‘Art’ and ‘the Artist’ in late Middle Kingdom Administration”, in: Discovering Egypt from the Neva, The Egyptological Legacy of Oleg D. Berlev, S. Quirke, ed. (Berlin, 2003), 85–105, esp. 92–93. 227  Cairo CG 20282. 228  Rio de Janeiro 632 [2424]; compare S. Quirke, in: Discovering Egypt from the Neva, S. Quirke, ed., 94. 229  Grajetzki, Court Officials, 85–86, 176. 225 226

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the gateway” at some point in his career.230 On a stela from Abydos231 appears the “overseer of the gateway” Inpy together with the “overseer of sealed things” Iykhernofert, the latter datable under Senusret III. For the Late Period it has been argued that rwyt (“gateway”) refers rather to the antechambers of the private apartments of the king, in the palace.232 If this is already true for the Middle Kingdom it might explain the close connection of the official to the “vizier” and “overseer of sealed things”. These are both officials working closest with the vizier. However, the Middle Kingdom sources show the “overseer of gateway” involved more in expeditions and in building works, as Inpy’s title “overseer of all royal works in the entire country” suggests. Even more obscure is the title “leader of the broad hall” (ḫ rp wsḫ t). This title is already known from the Old Kingdom, but disappears almost entirely in the early Middle Kingdom to emerge again in the late Middle Kingdom, perhaps only in the Thirteenth Dynasty. In the Old Kingdom the title often appears in some kind of juridical context. There is no evidence for that in the late Middle Kingdom. Most title holders are also “royal sealers” and belong therefore to the highest administrative level at the palace.233 For two of these officials careers are visible in our sources. Khons is known from several monuments and on one stela he has the function title “overseer of the production place” (ἰmy-r gs-pr).234 The “leader of the broad hall” Renseneb was before his appointment “commander of the king’s crew” (¡t̠w n t̠t ḥ q¡). From the latter career it might be concluded that the “leader of the broad hall” was involved in keeping order in parts of the royal palace, which is not supported by the career of Khons, which might indicate instead some connection to the administration of commodities. Military Sector In the Middle Kingdom the military was somewhat set apart from the other sectors of the administration. The highest military title at the royal court was the “overseer of troops” (ἰmy-r mšʿ) or “great overseer  Cairo 28129.  Cairo CG 20683. 232  R. Buongarzone, “La rw( y).t e il mr rw( y).t”, EVO 18 (1995), 45–63. 233  Grajetzki, Court Officials, 176 (list of title holders). 234  Grajetzki, Court Officials, 93, fig. 42 (as ḫ rp wsḫ ); W.C. Hayes, The Scepter of Egypt I (New York, 1953), fig. 227 (to left, as ἰmy-r gs-pr). 230 231



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of troops” (ἰmy-r mšʿ wr). The title is known since the Old Kingdom but became only in the Middle Kingdom a regular office at the royal court. A line of title holders with the highest ranking titles is known from the Eleventh Dynasty to the Second Intermediate Period.235 The title is also known from the provincial administration, but also appears in other context, for example in expedition inscriptions or on notes on pyramid blocks. From these and some biographical inscriptions it is clear that the “overseer of troops” led groups of people who could be used in military actions, but also at building sites or at quarry or mining expeditions. Several other military titles are known but it is hard to establish any hierarchies. In the annals inscription of Amenemhat II found at Memphis, the main military leader was the “overseer of the combat troop” (ἰmy-r mnf¡t); under him there was the “leader of the soldiers” (ḫ rp nfrw)236 and finally there were the soldiers (nfrw).237 The title “overseer of the combat troops” is attested in several other sources and therefore it seems that the title was indeed given to the person leading an army. By contrast, the “leader of the soldiers” appears only in this inscription, and so evidently was not the term regularly used for middleranking officers. In the late Middle Kingdom new military titles appear. At a more senior level stand the “commander of the ruler’s crew” (¡t̠w n t̠t ḥ q¡)238 and the “commander of a town regiment” (¡t̠w n nwt),239 more often called “great commander of a town regiment” (¡t̠w ʿ¡ n nwt). In the hierarchy under them there was the “officer of the ruler’s crew” (ʿnḫ n t̠t ḥ q¡)240 and the “officer of the town regiment” (ʿnḫ n nwt).241 The “commander of a town regiment” was, as already the name is suggesting, mostly likely placed over single town and fortresses. The

235  D. Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles in the Period of the Middle Kingdom: Dossiers (London, 2006), 182–208 (list of title holders). 236   The title is otherwise not often attested, compare W.A. Ward, Index, 134, no. 1150. 237  H. Altenmüller, A.M. Moussa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. aus dem PtahTempel von Memphis, Ein Vorbericht”, SAK 18 (1991), 1–48, esp. 18. 238  For the reading ¡t̠w see: O. Berlev, “Les prétendus ‘citadins’ au moyen empire”, RdÉ 23 (1971), 23–48, esp. 31–33; Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 72–94 (list of title holders). 239   Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 58–60 (list of title holders). 240   Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 61–71 (list of title holders). 241  O. Berlev, RdÉ 23 (1971), 23–48; Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 1–48 (list of title holders).

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evidence for it is not abundant. However, the title is sometimes attested in Lower Nubia with its high number of fortresses. The “great commander of a town regiment” was a palace official on a higher command level although they are never attested with ranking titles. Several of them are attested in pBoulaq 18. The title was not only used at the royal court, but also appears at provincial courts, such as at the court of the governor of Elkab, Sobeknakt.242 The “commander of the ruler’s crew” was a palace official. Several title holders appear in pBoulaq 18. Ryholt sees them as elite officers, since they were attached directly to the king.243 There is even perhaps king Sobekhotep III who was “commander of the ruler’s crew” before becoming king, showing the close relations of these officials to the royal court.244 Renseneb dating to the Thirteenth Dynasty bears the title in connection with the raking title ‘royal sealer’ (ḫ tmty-bἰty) and was also “leader of the broad hall”, again showing a close connection to the palace administration, as the latter title is so far only attested at the king’s palace. Rock inscriptions demonstrate that they were also despatched on missions for the king throughout all the territory under Egyptian control. The “soldier of the ruler’s crew” was not just a simple soldier, but operated already on a certain command level. Many of them are known from their own monuments. More important is perhaps the comparison with the “soldier of the town regiment” who was certainly on the same administrative level, but appears on a command level in the Semnah papyri. They might have been in command over “common” soldiers. Also already on a higher command level is the title “bowman” (ἰry pd̠t), in charge of bowmen.245 To the guard of the king belonged officials with the title “guard” (šmsw).246 The most well known title holder is Sinuhe, hero of the early Middle Kingdom literary composition. Another important title holder is Horhotep known from his decorated tomb chamber and sarcophagus

242   J.J. Tylor, The tomb of Sebeknekht (London 1896), pl. IV (they are shown holding bows and arrows, confirming the military connection, they are called “his brother”, so it might be argued that they did not belong to the court of Sobeknakht, but made a career at the royal court). 243   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation, 222. 244   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation, 222. 245  C. Vogel, Ägyptische Festungen und Garnisonen bis zum Ende des Mittleren Reiches (HÄB 46; Hildesheim, 2004), 105–107; Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 170–177 (list of title holders). 246   Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 95–124 (list of title holders).



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from Thebes. Both date to the early Middle Kingdom and high ranking titles indicate their high court position. There is the title “guard of the ruler” (šmsw n ḥ q¡), which might be indeed the title of the soldiers right next to the king; one of them is also attested as head of a Nubian fortress.247 There must have been several “guards”, as they were placed under a “controller of the guards” (sḥ d̠ šmsww). Other “guards” are the “guard of the first battalion” (šmsw n rmn tpy) and the “guard of the palace approach” (šmsw ʿrryt). In military context appear also the titles “dog handler” (mnἰw t̠zmw) and the corresponding head, the “commander of the dogs handlers” (¡t̠w n mnἰw t̠zmw).248 A well attested military title is also the “warrior” (ʿḥ ¡wty). It has been assumed that these were common soldiers, but some of them are known from high status objects, such as decorated coffins and own stelae.249 A somewhat problematic title is the “overseer of disputes” (ἰmy-r šnt̠).250 In the First Intermediate Period and Middle Kingdom, the title is well attested on the local level, but there are also several title holders with highest ranking titles and belonging therefore to the central administration. They all belong to the second half of the Twelfth Dynasty. Others, without ranking title most likely also belong to the central administration such as Nesmonth Seneb shown on a stela together with the vizier Dedumont Senebtyfy.251 From the Lahun papyri it is known that these officials had some juridical functions including drawing up contracts.252 On the stelae of Dedusobek there appear phrases almost providing the impression that the “overseer of disputes” was some kind of overseer of a secret service, torturing people to gain information: ‘Member of the elite, foremost of action, the master of the secrets in the chamber of those who do not want to speak, who knows the man from his saying, when the stomach reveals what is in it, who causes that the heart spits out what it has swallowed,

 C. Vogel, Ägyptische Festungen, 104–105.  C. Vogel, Ägyptische Festungen, 108–109. 249   Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles, 178–181 (list of title holders); D. Stefanović, “Ahautju of the Middle Kingdom”, in: Life and Afterlife in Ancient Egypt during the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period, S. Grallert, W. Grajetzki, eds. (GHP Egyptology 7; London, 2007), 123–129. 250  A. Philip-Stéphan, Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique, 66–68, 81–84. 251  Cairo CG 20570. 252  M. Collier, S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Letters (BAR International Series 1083; Oxford, 2002), 100–103. 247 248

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who enters in the single chamber in the front part of the palace at the day of hearing of a character’.253 Temple Administration Unlike the New Kingdom, the administration of temples was not yet fully developed in the Middle Kingdom and in the nomes was, part of the local administration, not separate from it. Only in the Thirteenth Dynasty are there signs that temples evolved as own independent units on a national level. First of all, in the late Middle Kingdom high priests become visible at certain places.254 Their main titles are already known from the early Middle Kingdom or even from the Old Kingdom. However, only in the late Middle Kingdom were these titles the main function titles of officials in a separate manner, that we might recognise as high priests. They also had ranking titles demonstrating their high social profile. The high priests of Ptah (Greatest of the leaders of craftsmen—wr ḫ rp ḥ mwt) and the high priests at Heliopolis (“Greatest of seers”—wr m¡w) are so far the best attested of these. Others are the “royal sealer” and “priest of Amun” (ḫ tmty bἰty, ḥ m-nt̠r ἰmnw) and the “royal sealer” and “priest of Sobek”. The title combination ranking title (“royal sealer”) and priest of a god place these priestly titles above others and is therefore most likely the forerunner of the New ­Kingdom high priest titles of the type “first priest of God NN” (ḥ m-nt̠r tpy n God NN).255 Parts of the economic administration of a temple are visible on two stelae now in Leiden and in Dublin.256 Here appear two “chamber keeper of the provision quarters of Ptah” (ἰry ʿt n šnʿ n Ptḥ ), an “assistant of Ptah” (ἰmj-st-ʿ n Ptḥ ) and a “overseer of the khentyu-shi of Ptah” (ἰmy-r ḫ ntyw-š n Ptḥ ). The stelae with these title holders most likely date to the Thirteenth Dynasty and show that the Ptah temple at Memphis had at least some economic units attached to it. Furthermore, the temple of Amun also appears in pBoulaq18 where it supplies the king with one hundred loaves and ten jars of beer per day.257   Stela BM 566 (ANOC 3.1).   V. Selve, “Les fonctions religieuses des nomarques au Moyen Empire”, CRIPEL 15 (1993), 73–81. 255  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 97–100, 177 (lists of title holders). 256   S. Quirke, RdE 51 (2000), 238–239. 257   S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt, 81. 253 254

THE ROYAL COMMAND (wd̠-nsw): A BASIC DEED OF EXECUTIVE POWER Pascal Vernus 1 The genre of communication labeled wd̠-nsw ‘king’s command’, a nominal phrase involving a direct genitive construction,1 is the basic authoritative deed which underlies the operation of the entire state administration and the governance of the country, and beyond, rule beyond Egypt. 1.1 This term is best rendered ‘royal command’,2 a translation that relates to its Egyptian etymology and ideological background (see below). The egyptological tradition commonly uses ‘royal decree’, ‘royal edict’, in German ‘königliches Dekret/Erlass’, in French ‘décret royal’. Indeed, each of these renderings is a handy translation, and could be considered appealing. However, they may mislead the unwary—or the non-egyptologist—since not all wd̠-nsw have a connotation as ‘legal’ as the aforementioned modern glosses suggest.3 One more time, the well-known trend of applying anachronistic concepts when dealing with Ancient Egypt shows up. For what is labeled ‘royal command’ does not necessarily imply a normative disposition—normative at least according to our modern conception—modifying, developing, or actualizing in anyway the former bulk of ‘laws’.

1   See E. Windus-Staginski, Der ägyptische König im Alten Reich Terminologie und Phraseologie (Philippika Marburger altertumskundliche Abhandlungen 14; Wiesbaden, 2006), 27, against understanding wd̠ nsw as a verbal form in the Old Kingdom. 2   H.M. Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” GM 176 (2000): 63–76. 3   A. Théodoridès, “Dekret,” in Lexikon der Ägyptologie, vol. I, ed. W. Helck and E. Otto (Wiesbaden 1974), 1038; E. Martin-Pardey, “Tempeldekrete,” in Lexikon der Ägyptologie, ed. W. Helck and W. Westendorf, vol. VI (Wiesbaden, 1986), 380; P. Vernus, “Les espaces de l’écrit dans l’Égypte pharaonique,” BSFE 119 (1990): 245; A. David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects of the Legal Register in Ramesside Royal Decrees (Göttinger Orientforschungen IV. Reihe Ägypten 38; Wiesbaden, 2006), 2–3.

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Fischer4 has pointed out that “some of the earliest examples pertain to messages that are pureley congratulatory.” A royal command may turn out to be a narrative by the pharaoh himself of his exploits in front of an audience (Piânkhi’s victory stela), a mere letter of the king giving a high official some political advice (Amenhotep II’s command to Usersatet),5 or answering to a soft-soaping letter of greetings (Urk I, 179:8–180:10).6 The term wḫ ¡ ‘letter’ is indeed used to refer to a royal command (pTurin 1896, r° 7 = KRI 6, 734, 14).7 The import of a royal command may be very restricted, for instance, when it aims at complaining about an unsatisfactory delivery of galena (KRI 6, 516–17), or at reprimanding an official for his clumsy treatment of a particular issue (pAnastasi IV, 10, 8–11, 8 and pAnastasi V, 1a).8 But, conversely, the application may be very wide and can extend not only to a whole body of officials, such as the mayors, the ‘councils’ (qnb.t),9 and others,10 but also to an entire category of people, such as the nmḥ -people under Haremhab’s command,11 and to the whole country (see §8). Moreover, the bearance of the royals commands is such that they are theoritically susceptible to entail an extension of the egyptian territory:

 4   H.G. Fischer, The Orientation of Hieroglyphs Part 1. Reversals (Egyptian Studies II; New York, 1977), 59.  5   S. Morschauser, “Approbation or Disapproval? Conclusion of the Letter of Amenophis II to User-Satet, Viceroy of Kush (Urk. IV, 1344, 10–20),” SAK 24 (1997): 203–22. Cf. also further references below, §7.7.  6   E. Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt (SBL Writings from the Ancient World 1; Atlanta, 1990), 18 [2]; E. Eichler, “Untersuchungen zu den Königsbriefen des Alten Reiches,” SAK 18 (1991): 149–52.  7   The term is “referring to a written message sent by or to an official or another (high) authority,” according to K. Donker Van Heel and B.J.J. Haring, Writing in a Workmen’s Village: Scribal Practice in Ramesside Deir el-Medina (Egyptologischen Uitgaven 16; Leiden, 2003), 92. Note that in the diglossic pRhind, the letter written by Thot is designated by šʿ.t in the demotic verson, and by wd̠ in the ‘égyptien de tradition’ version, as J. Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot et décrets pour Osiris,” in Essays Dedicated to Professor M.S.H.G. Heerma van Voss, ed. J.H. Kamstra, H. Milde, and K. Wagtendonk (Kampen, 1989), 110, notes.  8   P. Vernus, “P. Anastasi IV, 11, 4 (Études de philologie et de linguistique XVI),” RdÉ 37 (1986): 144–45; Wente, Letters, 35.  9   S. Allam, “L’administration locale à la lumière du décret du roi Horemheb,” JEA 72 (1996): 194–95. 10   A.M. Gnirs, “Haremhab—Ein Staatreformator? Neue Betrachtungen zum Haremheb-Dekret,” SAK 16 (1989): 85. 11   S. Allam, “Der Steuer-Erlass des Königs Haremhab,” ZÄS 127 (2000): 110.



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jr-n wd̠w=f t¡š.w=f s¡q-n mdw=f jdb.wy ‘just as his commands have made his borders, his speeches have joined the Two Banks’ (Hymn to Senusret III; pKahoun LV, 1, col. 11).12

Scholars are at a loss when trying to make the royal commands fit modern juridical categories. Hence, rather naïve assessments according to which some commands would have “valeur d’arrêtés administratifs ou à caractère exécutif,” while other are “procèdures spéciales comprises comme des lois.”13 A long time ago, Gunn14 rightly warned: “it is quite a mistake to translate (wd̠-nsw) as ‘Royal Decree’.” Recently Hays,15 no less rightly, observed that wd̠-nsw is “often applied (. . .) to communications which seem actually to have been little more than letters of instruction or formal memoranda from the king to the officials and departments of his administration.” At the very least, such a technical term as French ‘édit royal’, ‘rescrit royal’, or even ‘ordonnance royale’ could be less harmful so far as they involve some distance with our modern conceptions. 1.2 From a methodological point of view, we should distinguish the ‘royal commands’ of the pharaonic Period from the ptolemaic ‘sacerdotal decrees’, in greek psephigmata.16 Among these belongs the ‘decree’ of Ptolemy V, known from the famous Rosetta Stone.17 Indeed, these sacerdotal decrees widely implement the traditional pharaonic culture, inter alia, by the mere fact of being both written and translated in 12   Ch. J. Eyre, “The Semna Stelae: Quotation, Genre, and Functions of Literature,” in Studies in Egyptology Presented to Miriam Lichtheim, ed. S.I. Groll (Jerusalem, 1990), 141. 13   J. Pirenne according to A. Théodoridès, “A propos de la loi dans l’Égypte pharaonique,” RIDA 14 (1967): 120. 14   B. Gunn, “The Stela of Apries at Mitrahina,” ASAE 27 (1927): 234. 15   Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 78. 16   W. Huss, “Die in ptolemaïscher Zeit verfassten SynodalDekrete der ägyptischen Priester,” in Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 88 (1991): 198–208; S. Pfeiffer, Das Dekret von Kanopos (238 v. Chr.): Kommentar und historische Auswertung (Archiv für Papyrusforschung 18; Munich and Leipzig, 2004); M. Eldamaty, Eine ptolemäisches Priesterdekret aus dem Jahr 186 v. chr. (Archiv für Papyrusforschung Beiheft 20; Leipzig, 2005); D. von Recklinghausen, “Deux décrets synodaux de Ptolémée V à Philae,” Égypte, Afrique and Orient 61 (2011): 43–55. 17   Le décret de Memphis: Colloque de la Fondation Singer-Polignac à l’occasion de la célébration du bicentenaire de la découverte de la Pierre de Rosette, ed. D. Valbelle and J. Leclant (Paris, 1999).

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demotic18 and by being written in hieroglyphs and translated into a language19 aiming at mirroring the earliest stages, and thus illustrating the notion of ‘égyptien de tradition’.20 However, they are not properly pharaonic ‘royal commands’, since they were issued by priests meeting in a synode, and they are deeply influenced by an ideology, by customs, and beliefs that are not purely Egyptian. Ideological Background 2 As stated above, some scholars have felt somewhat ill at ease because the literal meaning of wd̠-nsw ‘royal command’ seemed to them not always in accordance with the content of the so-labeled document, since some of them seem to lack any normative implication.21 Actually, the ideological background accounts for the term being used in such an apparently extremely extensive way. 2.1 The capacity for creating by means of an authoritative act labeled ‘command’ (wd̠) is basically the privilege of the creator god who has implemented it for organizing the world in general: p.t t¡.wy dw¡.t mn h̠r wd̠.w=k ‘The sky, the Two countries, the Duat, are established through your (= Amun-Re-sonther) commands’.22

18   M. Depauw, A Companion to Demotic Studies (Papyrologica Bruxellensia 28; Brussels, 1997), 125–27. 19   F. Daumas, Les moyens d’expression du grec et de l’égyptien comparé dans le décrets de Canope et de Memphis (CASAE 16; Cairo, 1952). 20   P. Vernus, “Langue littéraire et diglossie,” in Ancient Egyptian Literature: History and Forms, ed. A. Loprieno (Probleme der Ägyptologie 10; Leiden, 1996), 562–63. 21   “The various senses in which the word wd̠ is used in Egyptian have been responsible for a confusion of ideas on this point” (Gunn, “The Stela of Apries at Mitrahina,” 234); “Il n’y a pas lieu de toujours traduire l’expression égyptienne par ‘décret’ et qu’en le faisant nous trions la documentation” (Théodoridès, “Dekret,” 1038); “Royal decree’ is perhaps a stilted and unnecessarily literal translation of the word wd̠-nsw which are often applied, as here, to communications which seem actually to have been little more than letters of instruction or formal memoranda from the king to the officials and departments of his administration” (Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 78). 22   N. de G. Davies, The Temple of Hibis in El Khargheh Oasis. Part III: The Decoration (MMA Expedition 17; New York, 1953), pl. 7.



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The creator is still implementing this privilege for maintaining the world, which is organized by eliciting any particular event that constitutes ‘history’ according to the Egyptian conception.23 This is clearly expressed in the Teaching of Ptahhotep: wd̠.t nt̠r pw ḫ pr.t ‘What happens is what the god commanded’ (116).24

Among the numerous manifestations of this capacity is the command that the kingship should be given to the one the creator god has chosen: wd̠-n=k m zp tpy d̠d-n=k m r¡=k jw s¡=j r ʿḥ ʿ ḥ r s.t(=j) ‘Just as you (= the god) made commands in the First Time, you have said with your mouth: “My son shall take place on my throne”’ (KRI 1, 43, 3–4). jw wd̠-n(=j) nswy.t n s¡(=j) n ḥ .t(=j) mn-ḫ pr-rʿ ḥ r ns.t nt d̠.t ‘I have commanded the kingship for my son of my belly, Menkheperre, on the throne of eternity’.25 jmt-n=f r nsw wd̠-n=f n=f jt̠.t m swḥ .t ‘The one who he (= the god) assigned to (be) king, having commanded to him (= the king) to take power since the egg’.26

The chain of command may be less direct, involving a metonymic manifestation of the solar creator: according to a command made by him, some deity acts for the pharaoh: smn(-n=j) n=k sʿḥ =k n bjty mj wd̠.t-n jt=k tm ‘Hereby I (= a deity) establish your dignity of kingship according to that of your father, Atum’.27 23   U. Luft, Beiträge zur Historisierung der Götterwelt und der Mythenschreibung (Studia Aegyptiaca IV; Budapest, 1978), 32–49; I. Shirun-Grumach, Offenbarung, Orakel und Königsnovelle (ÄAT 24; Wiesbaden, 1993), 51–65; P. Vernus, Essai sur la conscience de l’Histoire dans l’Égypte pharaonique (Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études, Sciences historiques et philologiques, Tome 132; Paris, 1995), §31. 24   Vernus, Essai sur la conscience de l’Histoire, 128; Vernus, Sagesses de l’Égypte pharaonique (Arles, 20102), 115. 25   Arnaudies-Montelimard, “L’arche en granit de Thoutmosis III et l’avant-porte du VI pylône,” Cahiers de Karnak 12 (2007): 120, 124. 26   D. Franke, “Sesostris I., ‘König der beiden Länder’ und Demiurg in Elephantine,” in Studies in Honor of Wiliam Kelly Simpson, I, ed. P. der Manuelian (Boston, 1996), 277, fig. 1, l. 7. 27   L. Gabolde, Monuments décorés en bas relief aux noms de Thoutmosis II et Hatchepsout à Karnak (MIFAO 123; Cairo, 2005), 71 [23].

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Sometimes, the command from which a particular event during the kingship of a pharaoh stems is expressed in an impersonal way, which is a euphemistic manner of referring to the god’s authority: wd̠-n-tw=f n ḫ ʿ-m-m¡ʿ.t s¡ jmn ḥ tp h̠r.t jt=f dj ʿnḫ mj rʿ d.t ‘(Generations of people since the time of predecessors, they have not celebrated rites of the jubilee.) It is for Khaemmaât, the Son of Amun, who rests on the share of his father, given of life like Re forever, to whom it has been commanded’.28

2.2 Since any pharaon is the current successor chosen by the creator to carry on his task, he shares his specific performative capacity: ntk rʿ k¡=k wd̠.t-n=k k¡ ḫ pr=sn. . . ‘You are a Re. What your ka have commanded for you, it shall happen . . .’ (Urk IV, 1386, 13–14). d̠d ḫ pr=ø ḥ r-ʿ mj pr(r.t) m r¡ n rʿ ‘Who says (something) and it happens at once, like what comes forth from the mouth of Re’ (Naos CGC 70021, left side, basement, l. 1).29

Moreover, any command of the pharaoh’s is but the reflection of a god’s own command.30 For instance: ky zp nfr jw r jb=j ḥ r wd̠ nt̠r ‘Another good act came to my (= pharaoh) mind because of a god’s command’ (KRI I 66, 15).

In this respect, it is after taking over a command from the god that the pharaoh hands it over to the mankind: dj=j rḫ =t̠n m ntt wdd.t ḫ r=j jw sd̠m-n(=j) ḫ r jt=j ‘I make known to you the fact that what has been commanded by me, I have heard from my father’ (Urk. IV 352, 16–17).

28   The Epigraphic Survey: The Tomb of Kheruef Theban Tomb 192 (The University of Chicago Oriental Institute Publications 102; Chicago, 1980), pl. 24 and 28. 29   E. Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir el-Bahari. Part 1 (Egypt Exploration Fund, Memoir 28; London, 1907), pl. 2; see also G. Posener, De la divinité du pharaon (Cahiers de la Société Asiatique 15; Paris, 1960), 43. 30   Posener, De la divinité du pharaon, 32–35; E. Blumenthal, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Königtum des Mittleren Reiches, I. Die Phraseologie (Abhandlungen der sächsischen Akad. der Wissenschaft zu Leipzig 61/1; Berlin, 1970), 91–94.

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sd̠m mdw pn wd̠-n jmn-rʿ nb ns.wt t¡.wy n nsw bjty mn-ḫ pr-rʿ ‘Listen to this word that Amun-Re, lord of the throne-of-the-two-lands has commanded to the king of Upper and Lower Egypt, Menkheperre’ (Urk. IV, 565, 12, cf. 566, 13).

Conversely, when the country is ruled by an illegitimate pharaoh, he cannot act according to a divine command: ḥ q¡=sn m-ḫ m rʿ n jr=f m wd̠ nt̠r ‘They (= the Hyksos) ruled without Re, so that he (= Re) could not act by means of divine command’ (Hatshepsut’s Speos Artemidos inscription l. 38).31

Specific Hallmarks of the Royal Command 2.2.1 Thus, any full-fledged royal command mirrors the god’s command and shares its hallmarks: it is self-consistent, self-attesting; it does not need to be “be motivated according to a principle or rule external to him, but may stem from personal desire”.32 It is ‘perfect’ as far as such a translation is relevant for the Egyptian word nfr: nfr.wy mdt tn d̠dd.t ḫ r=n . . . tp.t-r¡ nt nt̠r d̠s.f mj mdw rʿ m p¡w.t tp.t ‘How perfect is this speech you (= the pharaoh) have told to us . . . a formula of the god himself, like Rê speaking at the very origin’ (Urk. IV, 165, 9–14)

Because it reflects a god’s command, a royal command remains forever in force. jt̠-n=f t¡.wy m nḫ t.w=f smn-n=f wd̠.w nw nḥ ḥ ‘Just as he has taken the two lands through to his victories, he has established commands of eternity’ (Turin Inv Suppl. 1310 l. x+9).33

  A.H. Gardiner, “Davies’s Copy of the Great Speos Artemidos Inscription,” JEA 32 (1946): 55; J.P. Allen, “The Speos Artemidos Inscription of Hatshepsut,” BES 16 (2002): 1–17. 32   Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 71. 33   J. Vandier, “Une inscription historique de la Première Période Intermédiaire,” in Studies in Egyptology and Linguistics in Honour of H.J. Polotsky, ed. H.B. Rosen (Jerusalem, 1964), pl. I. 31

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Just as a god’s command is irrevocable, a royal command is irrevocable:34 n(n) fḫ š¡(.t)-n=k ‘What you have ordered shall not be released’ (Urk IV, 1386, 13).

It should never be violated: n(n) ḫ pr ḥ d.t wd̠(t)-n=j ‘A violation of what I have ordered shall not occur’ (Hatshepsut’s Speos Artemidos inscription, l. 41). n(n) th=j wd̠ nsw . . . jr=j m d̠d.t-n nsw n(n) th=j d̠d.t-n=f ‘I will not violate a royal command . . . I will act according to what the king has said. I will not violate what he has said’ (Piankhi’s stela, l. 142).

2.2.2 The coercitive force inherent in a royal command is twofold: it sets up an irrevocable measure, but it also implies irrevocable punishment for any infringement. A threat of castigation is laid upon tm.t( y)=sn jr ḫ ft wd̠ pn n ḥ m=f ‘those who will not act according to this command of His Majesty’ (Khasekhemre Néferhotep Abydos stela, l. 37–38).35 Depending on the nature of the royal command, the punishment either remains implicit, or is precisely delineated by stipulations.36 Most often, when it is delineated, no personal source is stated; one merely refers to the current modes of punishment, according to ‘the law’: jr ʿnḫ nb n mšʿ nty jw.tw r sd̠m sw ḥ r šm.t ḥ r nḥ m dḥ r.w gr š¡ʿ-m p¡ hrw jr.tw hp r=f m ḥ wj(.t)=f m sḫ 100 wbn sd 5 ḥ nʿ šd p¡ dḥ r jt̠-n=f m-dj=f m t̠¡w.t ‘With regard to any member of the army (about whom) one shall still37 hear “He goes taking hides”: starting from today, the law should be

34   H. Goedicke, “Befehl, Theorie des,” in Lexikon der Ägyptologie, I, ed. W. Helck and E. Otto (Wiesbaden, 1974), 678–79. 35   W. Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (KÄT; Wiesbaden, 1975), 29. 36   D. Lorton, “The Treatment of Criminals in Ancient Egypt through the New Kingdom,” JESHO 20 (1977): 53–62; Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 67. 37   The use of the adverb gr implies that the force of the stipulation began from the very moment the command was issued, and interplayed with š¡ʿ-m p¡ hrw.

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applied to him by beating him with 100 blows and 5 blood wounds and the hide he has stolen should be taken’ (Horemheb’s command l. 27). jr s nb gm.tw=f wḥ =f jnr nb m d̠w pn ḫ sf.tw n=f ḥ r=s m ḥ sk ʿ.t jm=f mj jr.tw r . . . ‘As for an one who will be found to have extracted some stone from this mountain, he should be punished by a mutilation (lit.: by cutting a limb from him) as is done according . . .’ (Nectanebo’s Abydos command).38

However, the pharaoh sometimes posits himself as the direct origin of the punishment: sk gr sr nb jmy-s.t-ʿ nb nfr-n jr=f ḫ .t ḫ ft md.t n wd̠ pn . . . n rdj-n ḥ m(=j) wab=sn m nfr-k¡-rʿ-mn-ʿnḫ d̠.t ‘Now, every official, every delegate, when he will not act in conformity with the wording of this command . . . My Majesty does not permit them to exercize a priestly-service in (the pyramid) Neferkare-has-a-stable-life for ever’ (Coptos B, last section, col. 6–7).39 rmt̠ nb nw t¡ pn mj-ḳd=f jr-ty=sn ḫ .t nbd̠ bjn . . . n rdj-n=ḥ m(=j) mn ḫ .t=sn ḫ .t jt.w=sn jm=sn ‘Any people of this land in its entirety who will do bad or evil things . . . there is no doubt that My Majesty will not allow their property or the property of their fathers to remain with them’ (Ramses III’s Coptos command).40

Since a royal command is ultimately an expression of the creator god’s will, the punishment can relie not only upon the human capacities of law enforcement at the hands of the social institutions, but also can result from supernatural mechanisms that rule the world.41 From this perspective, threats of punishment turn out to be curses; so, the donation-stelae referred to below (see §5.2.2).

  M. Burchardt, “Ein Erlass des Königs Necht-har-ehbet,” ZÄS 44 (1907): 55–58.   H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (ÄA 14; Wiesbaden, 1967), fig. 8; see also Coptos R: Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, fig. 18; Lorton, “The Treatment of Criminals in Ancient Egypt through the New Kingdom,” 8–10. 40   J. Assmann, “Spruch 2 der Pyramidentexte und die Ächtung der Feinde Pharaos,” in Hommage à Jean Leclant. Volume 1: Études pharaoniques, ed. C. Berger, G. Clerc, and N. Grimal (BdE 106/1; Cairo, 1994), 49–50. 41   J. Assmann, “When Justice Fails: Jurisdiction and Imprecation in Ancient Egypt and the Near East,” JEA 78 (1992): 149–62. 38 39

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2.2.3 A curse pending upon any violator can also spend upon any forthcoming pharaohs (Antef’s Coptos command; Sethy I’s Nauri command;42 Kanais).43 However, a royal command may refer to a former one issued by the same pharaoh, because it aims at reactivating it: jw gr rdj-n ḥ m(=j) jr.t wd̠ nsw n ḫ w(j).t=sn tpy-ʿ ‘Also, My Majesty has caused to carry out a royal command aiming at protecting them previously’ (Coptos B, l. 37–39 and l. 42; Pepy II).44 [w¡ḥ -n ḥ m=f ḥ tp-nt̠r] . . . m m¡w.t n jt=f jmn-rʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w m wd̠.t nt ḥ sb.t 4 ‘[His Majesty established a divine offering] . . . as a renewal for his father Amun-Re-sonther according to a command of year 4’ (KRI V, 119, 11–12).

A royal command may be issued as a confirmation of another royal command issued by a predecessor. So, Thutmose III’s Sehel channel command is a duplicate of one issued by Thutmose I;45 Sethy I’s Buhen royal command (BM 1189, KRI I, 37–38) is but a repetition of a royal command of his father, Ramesses I, who set up an endowment for the divine offering of Amun-Min, dwelling in Buhen (Louvre C 57; KRI I, 2, 11–14).46 In theory, any royal command of a past pharaoh is susceptible to be taken as a reference: jr.t tpy.w-¡ḥ .t r wd̠.w nw jmn-m-ḥ ¡.t ‘Performing the Field-Beginnings rite according to the commands of (king) Amménémès’ (Edfou 5, 357, 1).47 42   G.G. Meurer, “Wer etwas Schlechtes sagen wird, indem er ihre Majestät lästert, der wird sterben: Wie verwundbar waren das ägyptische Königtum bzw. der einzelne Herrscher?” in Jerusalem Studies in Egyptology, ed. I. Shirun-Grumach (Wiesbaden, 1998), 318. 43   A.J. Morales, “Threat and Warnings to Future Kings: The Inscription of Seti I at Kanais (Wadi Mia),” in Million of Jubilees: Studies in Honor of David P. Silverman, ed. Z. Hawass and J.H. Wegner (Cairo, 2010), vol. I, 387–411. 44   A. Théodoridès, “Une charte d’immunité d’Ancien Empire,” RIDA 29 (1982): 87 n. 59. For a reference to a former command of Ramses III, see A. Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” JARCE 28 (1991): 23. 45   A. Klug, Königliche Stelen in der Zeit von Ahmose bis Amenophis III (Monumenta Aegyptiaca VIII; Brussels, 2002), 165–66; A. Gasse and V. Rondot, Les inscriptions de Séhel (MIFAO 126; Cairo, 2007), 130 n° 234, 137–38 n° 242. 46   W. Murnane, The Road to Kadesh: A Historical Interpretation of the Battle Reliefs of King Sety at Karnak (SAOC 42; Chicago, 1990), 48. 47   J.-Cl. Goyon, “Répandre l’or et éparpiller la verdure. Les fêtes de Mout et d’Hathor à la néomènie d’Epiphi et les prémices des moissons,” in Essays on Ancient Egypt in



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Hence the phrase wd̠ jsw ‘old command’.48 There are indeed cases that needed to delineate more clearly the application of an older royal command issued by a former king: for instance, Horemheb had to stress that a tax pertaining to the sailing of ships, which was required in the time of Thutmosis III, was no longer in force. More generally, when enacting a command, the pharaoh was allegedly sharing a common inspiration with all other previous deeds of executive power—mj jr.t tpyw-ʿ ‘like what was done previously’.49 When it is under such a god’s influence, the king’s speech acquires the performative property of a god’s speech (§2.2). 2.3 The god uses different ways to make the pharaoh know his will: unsought omen, sought and formalized oracle at some periods, consultation, dream, or mere inspiration in the king’s heart, either fortuitous or asked for, especially when he is facing a difficult problem (Sethy I’s Kanais inscription, KRI I, 66, 2–12). Needless to say, the god message, whatever may be the way through which it has been sent, is positive and politically effective: rḫ -kwj rdj-n=t st n(=m) jb=j r sq¡ nsw.t=j “I know that you (= Bastet) have put this in my heart so as to promote my kingship” (Osorkon I).50

Authoritative Force 2.4 The authoritative force of a royal command—its ‘legitimacy’—stems from the mere fact of its being issued as such by the pharaoh. It requires no further external motivation, provided that the pharaoh be under god’s inspiration when formulating it. It is the pharaoh who

Honour of Herman te Velde, ed. J. van Dijk (Egyptological Memoirs 1; Groninguen, 1997), 92. 48   J. Quack, “Der historische Abschnitt des Buches vom Tempel,” in Literatur und Politik, ed. J. Assmann and E. Blumenthal (Cairo, 1999), 273 n. 21. 49   H. Goedicke, “The Pepi II Decree from Dakhleh,” BIFAO 89 (1989): 208. 50   K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit Teil II: Die 22.–24. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2007), 48, n° 9, l. 6; E. Lange, “Legitimation und Herrschaft in der Libyerzeit: Eine neue Inschrift Osorkons I. aus Bubastis (Tell Basta),” ZÄS 135 (2008): 133.

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indicates that the statement he is making takes the status of a fullfledged royal command: nsw d̠s=f d̠d m wd̠ ‘The King in person; making-a-statement with the status of (lit.: as) a command’ (Horemheb’s command, l. 12).

The pharaoh’s capacity for issuing commands is liable to bear on anything belonging to the human world provided he feels inspired by the divine spirit (see the listing of the topic dealt with in §8 below). As he is the only one human being to be fully aware of his being under such an inspiration, this doctrine is a convenient justification for absolute power. It should be stressed, however, that theoretically the pharaoh’s words acquire authoritative power with the status of a royal command only to the extent that they reflect the divine will. In this respect, a comparison can be made—mutatis mutandis—with the Catholic doctrine of papal infaillibility. 2.4.1 Thus, wd̠-nsw applies to the duly formalized act of power, invested with unquestionable and undisputable authority, while wd̠ mdw designates commands or arrangements in general, emanating from the king51 and from the gods (Amduat, Book of the Gates),52 but also from a commoner.53 The bulk of instructions given by the pharaoh is sometimes labeled as his sb¡y.t ‘teaching’,54 and the fact of establishing dispositions as a whole may be designated by wd̠ sḫ rw ‘commanding dispositions’ (Kawa n° VII, l. 17). Wd̠-nsw is commonly taken over as wd̠ or as wd̠.t, a feminine duplicate wd̠.t, attested since the Second Intermediate Period.55

51   Blumenthal, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Königtum, 390; Helck, Historischbiographische Texte, 38 n° 48; Urk. IV, 259, 2; KRI VI, 23, 8; on Thutmose III laying the foundation, see below, §3.2. 52   Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot,” 113. 53   Goedicke, “Befehl, Theorie des,” 678–79; H.G. Fischer, “A Feminine Example of wd̠ ḥ m=k, ‘thy Majesty commands’ in the Fourth Dynasty,” JEA 61 (1975): 246–47; A. Théodoridès, “La propriété et ses démembrements en droit pharaonique,” RIDA 24 (1977): 28. 54   Vernus, Sagesses, 46. 55   P. Vernus, “Wd̠/wd̠.t ‘ordonnance’ et wd̠ ‘stèle’,” (forthcoming).

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2.4.2 One may wonder whether the formula m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb, which has been claimed to mean ‘as a manifestation of royal service/ desire’,56 could not relate to the pharaoh’s being under divine inspiration when applied to issuing a royal command, as, for instance, in the wd̠.t ¡wy.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb formulation (below, §4.3), which could be translated ‘command issued as a manifestation of the royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health’. Another way of rendering could be ‘as a manifestation of the one-who-acts as-protector’ or ‘of acting-as-protector’, taking stp-s¡ as a verbal noun, which seems to me less attractive, given ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb. The notion of protection, either in a participle or in a verbal noun, could be implemented in a metaphorical way to describe the pharaoh’s job. 2.5 Thanks to his authoritative capacity on the human world, which is rooted in the creator’s authoritative capacity, the king is the sole legislative power. He appears as the physical manifestation of right (“König als Verkörpertes Recht”).57 Thus, the royal commands are the source of the legislation58 whatever their relevance may be, either general or strictly connected with “specific and presumably non-recurring situation”.59 Their relationship to the ‘law’ (hp) has raised an enormous amount of discussion.60 Needless to say, we should exclude a   G.J. Shaw, “The Meaning of the Phrase m ḥ m n stp-s¡,” JEA 96 (2010): 175–90.   J. Assmann, “Zu Verschriftung rechtlicher und sozialer Normen im Alten Ägypten,” in Rechtskodifizierung und soziale Normen im interkulturellen Vergleich, ed. H.J. Gehrke (Scripta Oralia 66, Reihe A, Altertumswissenschaftliche Reihe 15; Tübingen, 1994), 1.3.1. 58   J.-M. Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb. Traduction, commentaire épigraphique, philologique et institutionnel (Université Libre de Bruxelles Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres LXXXII; Brussels, 1981), 218. 59   W. C. Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum (Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446) (Wilbour Monographs V; Brooklyn 1955 [reprint 1972]), 141. 60   E. Otto, “Götterdekret,” in Lexikon der Ägyptologie II, ed. W. Helck and W. Westendorf (Wiesbaden, 1976), 676–77; A. Théodoridès, “A propos de la loi dans l’Égypte pharaonique,” 102–52; Théodoridès, “The Concept of Law in Ancient Egypt,” in The Legacy of Egypt, ed. J.R. Harris (Oxford, 19712), 291–322; Goedicke, “Befehl, Theorie des,” 678–79; Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 219–21, 311; Martin-Pardey, “Tempeldekrete,” 379–86; P. Vernus, “Les décrets royaux (wd̠-nsw): L’énoncé d’auctoritas comme genre,” in Akten des Vierten Internationalen Ägyptologen Kongress München 1985 (SAK Beihefte 4; Munich, 1990), 239–46; Assmann “Zu Verschriftung rechtlicher und sozialer Normen im Alten Ägypten”; Lorton, “The Treatment of Criminals in 56 57

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mere incorporation of the relationship between ‘law’ and ‘decree’ in our modern conceptions. Hp seems to delineate the normative corpus—kept orally or in writing—of general stipulations resulting from the custom and from the ‘legal’ substance involved in the bulk of the royal commands. Exceptional Substitutes for King Entitled to Issuing Command 2.5.1 To the pharaoh being the sole legislative power there is an exception, which turns out to be very informative for the status of the king’s family in the 18th dynasty: the King’s mother is exceptionally presented as issuing a command to followers of the King’s mother, Ahhotep (Urk. IV, 45,13). In the term wd̠.t mw.t-nsw ‘a King’s Mother’s command’ and in the formulaic jw wd̠-n mw.t-nsw rdj.t jr.tw ‘The King’s Mother has commanded to cause . . . to be made’, mw.t-nsw ‘King’s Mother’ clearly substitutes for nsw or for ḥ m=j/f refering to the pharaoh. However, the datation involves King Amenhotep I’s regnal years, and not those of the King’s Mother.61 Moreover, the command is inscribed on the stela of a man who is mr-pr wr n mw.t-nsw jʿḥ -ḥ tp.w ʿnḫ .tj ‘great overseer of the estate of the King’s Mother Ahhotep, may she be living’, and it deals with a cenotaph and other funerary advantages being granted to him. All these facts limit the application of such an extraordinary exception, even though the outstanding status of queens and the king’s mother is well established at that time. It may be rooted in older traditions, since in the 4th dynasty, it was said about a queen: wd̠ ḥ m.t=t . . . ‘Your (female) Majesty commanded . . .’.62 2.5.2 Another exception can be easily accounted for by the particular political circumstances. The High Priest Osorkon claimed:

Ancient Egypt through the New Kingdom,” 59–63; David, Legal Register in Ramesside Royal Decrees, 65; etc. 61   Compare this with the fact that Hatshepsut took over most of the regalia, except the datation referring to her reign. 62   Fischer, “A Feminine Example of wd̠ ḥ m=k, ‘thy Majesty commands’ in the Fourth Dynasty,” 246–47; M. Baud, Famille royale et pouvoir sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien (BdE 124; Cairo, 1999).

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jr.tw wd̠.wt ḥ r rn=j m ḥ m-nt̠r tpy n jmn-rʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w wsrkn r ḥ n pr jmnrʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w . . . ‘may a command be issued in my name as first prophet of AmunRe-sonter, Osorkon in order to organize the estate of AmunRe-sonter . . .’.63

Osorkon was clearly acting on behalf of Takeloth II. Caminos64 has rightly observed that this vicarious status gave “his command at least the semblance of regnal authority.” A similar, though not exactly identical situation was when the powerful provincial leader Smatauytefnakht reportedly commanded that the temple of Amun of Taudjoy should be protected and safeguarded (ḫ wj mkj, see §8.8.4.2.4). The official enacted the command, but reference is made to king Psammetik I (Petisis’ Petition, pRylands IX, col. 22, 3–4), just as reference is made to king Alexander IV when Ptolemy caused a command to be issued concerning Buto in the famous Satrap stela (Urk II, 19, 2–21 5). 2.5.3 Sometimes the divine inspiration that elicits a royal command did not touch the king directly. Namart reported to king Sheshanq I, his father, the sad situation that had occurred in the temple of Arsaphes, since the regular offering of an ox, according to the ancestors’ practice was no longer maintained. The king recognized from his claim that his son shared with him the privilege of being inspired by the god and acted accordingly: jn jb=k mj jb wtt sw . . . jn jt=j ḥ ry-š=f nsw t¡.wy smnḫ pr(r.t) nb.t m r¡=k m pr=f r nḥ ḥ ‘It is your (= the king’s son) mind which is like the mind of him who begot him . . . It is my father Arsaphes, king of the Two Lands, lord of Heracleopolis, who makes excellent everything that comes forth from your mouth in his house for eternity’.65

  Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 165, col. 39.   R.A. Caminos, The Chronicle of Prince Osorkon (Analecta Orientalia 37; Rome, 1958), 54. 65   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 4–7 n° 15; R. Meffre, “Un nouveau nom d’Horus d’or de Sheshonq Ier sur le bloc Caire JE 39410,” BIFAO 110 (2010): 221–33. 63 64

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2.5.4 The vizier is entitled to give a ‘command’ involving the word wd̠. For instance, Imenysoneb told how he was summoned by the vizier’s scribe to the vizier’s bureau:

l6È ˝

gm-n=j mr njw.t t̠¡.t ʿnḫ w m ḫ ¡=f ʿḥ ʿ-n rdj-n sr pn wd̠.t m ḥ r=j m d̠d mk wd̠ swab=k p¡ r¡-pr n ¡bd̠w ‘It was in his bureau that I met the mayor of the city and vizier Ankhu. Then, this high official laid a command upon me in the following words: “See, you have been commanded to clean this temple of Abydos”’ (Louvre C 11, l. 4–7).66

A vizier’s command is but a reflex of a previous royal command: jw gr jr n=f wd̠ r wd̠ n=f jr.t wp.t tn ‘Moreover, he (= the vizier) has made a command according to the fact that a command had been made to him to perform this itemizedexamination’ (Coptos L col. 7–8).67

Such a command might have its formulaic lay out, date; name of the vizier; wd̠ n ‘command to’ followed by the name of the official involved.68 Viziers’ commands are transposed in the religious sphere (see below). 2.5.5 With the institution of theocracy at the beginning of the first millenium B.C., a royal command required the approbation of the god’s oracle, ar least theoretically. For instance, formerly, according to the traditional conception of power, a donation of land was made effective by a mere ‘royal command’. Now, the royal command was to be

66   W.K. Simpson, The Terrace of the Great God at Abydos: The Offering Chapels of Dynasties 12 and 13 (Publications of the Pennsylvania-Yale Expedition to Egypt 5; New Haven, 1974), pl. 80 [ANOC 58.1]. On the commands that are quoted on the two stelae of Amenysoneb, see S. Quirke, “Royal Power in the 13th Dynasty,” in Middle Kingdom Studies, ed. S. Quirke (New Malden, 1991), 134–35. 67   Another interpretation, “a command has been made for him in order to command him to perform this inventory,” has been put forward by Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 67 n. 29. 68   W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II Accounts of the Dockyard Workshop at This in the Reign of Sesostris I (Boston, 1965), pl. 7–8.



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validated by the god’s oracle (Cairo JE 45327),69 since the god was allegedly ruling directly over the human world, according to the new ideological background.70 This background showed up through expressions such as: t̠s t¡.w m wd̠.w jr-n=f ‘who rules the lands through the commands he has made’ (Hymn to Amun, pCaire CGC 58032, l. 29).71

Note also the striking parallel involved in d̠r ḫ r.wt mnḫ wd̠.wt=f ‘whose oracles are firm, whose commands are efficient’ (pCaire CGC 58032, l. 37). Instead of the royal titulary, a hymnical evocation of the sun creator’s main hallmarks obtains.72 A good instance of a god’s command upholding a political measure is afforded by the famous banishment stela: p¡y nb nfr jw=k (r) jr(.t) wd̠ ʿ¡ ḥ r rn=k r tm dj.t jn.t rmt̠ nb n p¡ t¡ . . . ‘My good Lord, may you make a major command in your name to forbid anyone of this land to be brought . . .’ (Louvre C256).73

This accounts for the fact that royal commands and “legal oracles have their highest degree of connection only in the Third Intermediate Period”.74 In mythological contexts, a god may issue a ‘royal command’ (see below, §9).

69   B. Menu, Recherches sur l’histoire juridique, économique et sociale de l’ancienne Égypte II (BdE 122; Cairo, 1998), 141–43. 70   P. Vernus, “La grande mutation idéologique du Nouvel Empire: Une nouvelle théorie du pouvoir politique. Du démiurge face à sa création,” BSEG 19 (1995): 69–95. 71   K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit Teil I : Die 21. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2007), 132. 72   P. Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire,” BIFAO 75 (1975): 1–66; J. Quack, “Kritische Bemerkungen zur Bearbeitung von ägyptischen Hymnen nach dem Neuen Reichs,” WO 37 (2007): 99–100. 73   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit I, 73. 74   M. Trapani, “The Royal Decree and the Divine Oracle from the Old to Late New Kingdom: A Compared Research,” in Sesto Congresso internazionale di egittologia. Atti (Turin, 1993), II, 542.

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pascal vernus Royal Command as a Result of a Previous Petition

2.6 It sometimes happened that the pharaoh issued a command as a reaction to a petition presented to him by one of his subjects.75 For instance, King Thutmosis III issued a command as an execution of a petition made by Senenmut: wd̠ ḥ m=j jr.t[w] spr n[[t]] N ḫ ft spr nsw d̠[s=f] ‘My Majesty has commanded to act on the petition of N according to the fact that the King in person has been petitioned (lit.: the petitioning of the King in Person)’ (Senenmut’s endowment, l. 2).76

From a more strictly administrative perspective, the pharaoh issued a royal command in response to the fact that a director of fields ‘has petitioned’ (spr-n . . . r-d̠d: P. Brooklyn 35. 1446, insertion C, l. 4).77 Quirke78 has rightly noted that the command “concerns petitions made to the king by officials at the royal palace.” Moreover, the procedure of petitioning the king was felt standard enough to have been taken into account by the royal ideology: p¡ nty nb ḥ r dbḥ spr.t jry=j mk jry=j ḫ r=j n=f rʿ nb ‘Everyone who made petition, “I will do, See I will do”, I said to him everyday’ (Qadesh P. 180 = KRI II, 58,6–11)

That any official or even any commoner may, at least theoretically, have had personal access to the king to present a petition or a claim involving administrative, political, or judiciary power stems from the fact that the authority was concentrated and embodied in the sole person of the pharaoh. Thus, no contradiction is involved between alleged direct access to the pharaoh and his outstanding status.

75   For a possible instance of such a petition, see W. Hovestreydt, “A letter to the king relating to the foundation of a statue (P. Turin 1879 vso.),” LingAeg 5 (1997): 107–121. 76   W. Helck, “Die Opferstiftung des šn-mwt,” ZÄS 85 (1960): 23–34; Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 122, l. 2. 77   Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 78; Théodoridès, “Du rapport entre les différentes parties du P. Brooklyn Museum 35.1446,” RIDA 7 (1960): 131–45. 78   S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom: The Hieratic Documents (New Malden, 1990), 128, 140–44.

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A King’s Personal Statement of a Royal Command 3 A royal command takes its legitimacy from its being bound to the physical presence of the king, which may be made explicit through the phrase nsw d̠s=f ‘the King in Person’: nsw d̠s=f d̠d m wd̠ ‘The King in person; making-a-statement with the status of a command’ (Horemheb’s command, l. 12) nsw d̠s=f wd̠ jr.t ḥ tp-nt̠r m-m¡w.t ‘The King in person. Commanding to make the divine offering anew’ (Thutmosis III’s royal command for Amun, l. 36; Urk IV, 170, 17).

In the later period, archaizing imitation of past phraseology entailed the reuse of the formulation: nsw d̠s=f jw wd̠-n ḥ m(=j) dj.tw . . . ‘The King in person. My Majesty has commanded that one causes . . .’ (Apries’ command from Memphis, l. 2).

This kind of statement using nsw d̠s=f ‘in the presence of the King in Person’, is attested in other ceremonial or legal contexts,79 also including documents (ʿ) from the king: rdj ḥ m=f jr.t a jm zš r-gs nsw d̠s=f ḥ r jnr n pr-ʿ¡ ‘His Majesty caused a document to be made there, written beside the king in person, on a stone of the Great House’ (Rewer inscription).80

3.1 Since the authoritative force of a royal command relies on the performativity inherent to divine speeches, it has to be first stated orally by the pharaoh:81

  D.P. Silverman, “The Nature of Egyptian Kingship,” in Ancient Egyptian Kingship, ed. D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman (Leiden, 1995), 65; Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 74 n. 81; Amosis’s stela for the cult of Tetisheri, CGC 34002; Urk. IV, 833, 15–1, cf. Klug, Königliche Stelen, 121; KRI V, 239, 4. 80   J.P. Allen, “Rê-wer Accident,” in Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths, A.B. Lloyd (London, 1992), 14–20. 81   Goedicke, “Befehl, Theorie des,” 678. 79

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pascal vernus st̠¡.tw wr.w smr.w nw stp-s¡ r sd̠m sšm n wd̠.t wd̠ nsw . . . dj=j sd̠m=tn ‘The great ones, the courtiers of the royal service, were introduced to hear directives (sšm n wd̠.t). A royal command to his nobles . . . I want you to hear . . .’ (Urk. IV, 349, 13–16, 351, 1).82 wd̠ d̠d ḥ m=j sd̠m m jr.(t)-n=j m-ḥ ¡w-r tpy.w-ʿ ‘A command that My Majesty has stated: “Listen to what83 I have made at the head of the ancestors” ’ (Piânkhi’s victory stela).

Certain wordings could sometimes suggest that the king’s speech was actually spoken by a herald, but it may be no more than a matter of euphemistic formulation:84 d̠d tw n=sn m-b¡ḥ ḥ m=f ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb sd̠m-n t¡ wd̠.t j.jry.t ‘It was said to them in front of His Majesty, Life, Safety, Health: listen to this command which has been made’ (Amenhotep IIl’s apocryphal command for the temple of Amenhotep son of Hapu, l. 3).85

The king verbally pronounced a royal command in front of an audience. Hence the fact that the wording involves direct address.86 The audience may have been restricted to the royal council.87 Elsewhere, a ceremony is the occasion for the oral statement of a royal command. The mention of the ceremony belongs to the ideological apparatus (see below, §6.4). Significantly, in the incorporation of the form of royal command into the religious sphere (§9), the verbal pronouncement is taken in account: j nn nt̠r.w r-¡w=sn jgr jgr zp 4 sd̠m=tn mdw jmn-rʿ ‘O all these gods be silent, be silent (four times); listen to this word of Amun-Re . . .’ (royal commands to Ounnefer).88

82   See also sd̠m wd̠.t . . . ‘listen to what has been commanded (?)’ in a damaged context (Sobekhotep VIII’s Karnak inscription, side B 8, Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 470). 83   The use of m for introducing the second participant of sd̠m is a stylistical device categorizing the exploits as a mass noun; see also the example quoted in §3.2. 84   One may wonder whether this is not a reflex of the ideological background of the theocracy, according which any measure of the king should require a confirmation from the god’s oracle. 85   A. Varille, Inscriptions concernant l’architecte Amenhotep fils de Hapou (BdE 44; Cairo, 1968), 74 n. 1. 86   Eyre, “The Semna Stelae,” 152. 87   Gunn, “The Stela of Apries at Mitrahina,” 235. 88   Bibliography in Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot,” 107.



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The alleged orality of the royal command matches the alleged orality of other royal communications:89 sd̠m.w nn wḥ m[w] wd̠=j ‘Listen to this; repeat my command’ (Khasekhmere Neferhotep’s Abydos stela, l. 32).90 sd̠m-n dj=j ʿm¡=tn m n¡y=j ¡ḫ .w j.jr=j ‘Listen! I want to make you aware of my useful acts which I have performed’ (Speech of Ramses III, pHarris).91

Later, the inherent virtue of the pharaoh’s speech would be expressed through the persuasive power of his rhetoric (“Ethos der Überzeugung”).92 To what extent this orality could have been contrived, i.e., constitute a purely ideological device, is difficult to assess.93 Putting a Royal Command in Writing 3.2 Having been specified as a royal command, the statement was then put in writing by the king’s scribe or any official performing this role: ʿḥ ʿ-n šsp-n=f gstj ḥ nʿ sḫ r.t wn-jn=f ḥ r jr.t m šs mj d̠d.t nb.t ḥ m=s ‘Then he took the palette and the scroll. Immediately, he started putting in writing in conformity with all that His Majesty has said. (The King in person; making-a-statement with the status of a command)’ (Horemheb’s command, l. 12).

This is true, even when the arrangements inspired by the god are not explicitly labeled as a royal command:

89   E. Bleiberg, “Historical Texts as Political Propaganda during the New Kingdom,” BES 7 (1985–1986), 6–9; Ph. Derchain, “Les débuts de l’histoire [Rouleau de cuir Berlin 3029],” RdÉ 42 (1992): 35–47; P. Vernus, “L’écriture du pouvoir dans l’Égypte pharaonique: Du normatif au performatif,” in L’écriture publique du pouvoir, ed. A. Bresson, A.-M. Coculam and Ch. Pébarthe (Ausonius Etudes 10; Bordeaux, 2005), 123–42. 90   Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 28. 91   P. Grandet, Le papyrus Harris I (BM 9999) (BdE109; Cairo, 1994), vol. II, 215 n. 895. 92   J. Assmann, Politische Theologie zwischen Ägypten und Israel (Bonn, 1992), 4. 93   On this question see R.B. Parkinson, “Literary Form and the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant,” JEA 78 (1992): 169.

280

pascal vernus nsw d̠s=f wd̠-mdw jr.t m zš ḫ ft d̠d.tw nd̠.tw-r¡ nt sšm.t mnw ‘The King in person. Commanding arrangements. Putting in writing as soon as a counsel pertaining to conduct monumental works has been stated’ (Thutmosis III’s laying the foundation in Karnak, Urk IV, 922;94 see the expression wd̠ ḥ m=f sspd pd̠ šs, l. 6 = Urk IV, 922, 15).

This theoretical setting, according to which an originally spoken command should be put in writing, mirrors the mythological setting according to which Thot, acting as the prototypical scribe,95 puts in writing the commands of the gods, that is to say, in the final analysis, of the sun god and creator: jw ḥ m n d̠hwty ʿḥ ʿ r-gs=tn r sph̠r m wd̠.w pr.w m r¡=tn ‘The Majesty of Thot is standing near you, putting in writing from96 the commands that come forth from your mouths’ (Ramses IV’s Abydos stela JdE 4883, 1, l. 10; KRI VI, 23, 1).

3.3 It happened that the pharaoh himself wrote the command he has just pronounced: zš ḥ m=f d̠s=f m d̠bʿ.w=f ‘His Majesty in person wrote with his fingers’ (Urk. I, 60, 14).97 wd̠ jr-n ḥ m=f m ʿ.wy=f d̠s=s ‘The command which His Majesty made with his own two hands’ (Amenhotep II’s command to Usersatet; Urk. IV, 1343, 11).98

Typology of Αvailable Royal Commands 4 We may expect every royal command to have had an original version that was produced by the royal chancery and kept there for reference. 94   J. von Beckerath, “Ein Wunder des Amun bei der Tempelgründung in Karnak,” MDAIK 37 (1981): 40–49. 95   J.-M. Kruchten, Le grand texte oraculaire de Djehoutymose intendant du domaine d’Amon sous le pontificat de Pinedjem II (Monographies Reine Élisabeth 5; Brussels, 1986), 352–53; Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot,” 113. 96   For the use of m, see the example quoted in §3.1. 97   Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 63 n. 2. 98   M. Weber, Beiträge zur Kenntnis des Schrift- und Buchwesens der alten Ägypter (Inaugural-Dissertation; Cologne, 1969), 82. Cf. §7.7.

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Such commands included the necessary components for guaranteeing its genuineness.99 Naming the Pharaoh 4.1 The basic element was the name of the pharaoh responsible for the command. In the Old Kingdom apparatus, the king was designated by his Horus name, inscribed into the serekh, that is to say the palace facade. This was seen as the emblem of authority according to a representation that dates back into the protodynastic and Thinite tradition.100 Remnants of this device are still conspicuous in incorporations of the form of the royal command into funerary compositions: in the Coffin Texts, a royal command is attributed to the god Geb, whose alleged Horus name is enclosed inside the serekh (CT II, 151 b, Spell 151 see §9.3.1). In the Old Kingdom apparatus, the date is often written below the Horus name, sometimes with the sealing formula (§4.6). Beginning in the Middle Kingdom, the royal command started with the datation according to the standard formulation ‘Year N1, month of season N2, day N3 under the Majesty of (titulary of the Pharaoh)’. Labeling the Document as a Royal Command 4.2 In the apparatus, after naming the pharaoh, comes the labeling of the document itself with the term wd̠-nsw ‘royal command’. One of the most salient hallmarks of this sophisticated apparatus lies in the way in which the reversal of orientation is used in the Old Kingdom stone versions. The term wd̠-nsw ‘royal command’ is written out with an internal reversal. For it is written

6l6√yÊ 6l6√Êy

(read right to left), the

  H. Goedicke, Old Hieratic Paleography (Baltimore, 1988).   S. Aufrère, “Contribution à l’étude de la morphologie du protocole ‘classique’,” BIFAO 82 (1982): 34–37; G. Dreyer, Umm el-Qaab I. Das prädynastische Königsgrab U-j und seine frühen Schriftzeugnisse (Archäologische Veröffentlichungen 86; Mainz am Rhein, 1998), 89; P. Vernus, “Naissance des hiéroglyphes et affirmation iconique du pouvoir: L’emblème du palais dans la genèse de l’écriture,” in Les premières cités et la naisssance de l’écriture Actes du Colloque du 26 septembre 2009 Musée archéologique de Nice-Cemenelum, ed. P. Vernus (Arles, 2011), 38.   99 100

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word wd̠ being oriented towards the recipient as shown by the hieroglyph , which is looking leftward, and is thus reverted with regard to the Horus name of the pharaoh at the extreme right.101 This graphic device is a means of writing the preposition n ‘to’,102 a royal command being explicitly addressed to officials, as shown by the wording wd-nsw n ‘royal command to’.103

l

•  The word nsw remains in the standard honorific anteposition, nsw ‘king’ being written in front of wd̠ ‘command’, contrary to the linguistic order, while in the script of nsw as a whole, the group . is itself in anteposition with regard to the hieroglyph •  Sometimes the sign (right to left direction of reading) undergoes . a reversal, wd̠-nsw being written

y

√

ty

6l√Ê y

After the Old Kingdom, the deed itself was still labeled by the phrase wd̠-nsw, but the addressee was introduced by the regular ‘alphabetic’ writing of the preposition n, while the reversed writing is left out (Senusret III’s Deir el-Bahri command, Cairo JdE 38655 col. 10).104 The wd̠ ¡wj Labeling 4.3 Beginning in the Middle Kingdom, besides wd̠-nsw labeling, another kind of labeling appeared: after the datation involving the name of the king, the royal command—when not taking the form of a personal letter (see §4.5)—was stated using the phrase wd/wd̠.t ¡wy(/.t) ‘command issued’.105 Then followed the mention of the addressee(s).106 Some examples:

  Fischer, The Orientation of Hieroglyphs, 57–61.   Eichler, “Untersuchungen zu den Königsbriefen des Alten Reiches,” 141–71. 103   Windus-Staginski, Der ägyptische König, 27. 104   Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple, pl. 24; P. Vernus, “Égyptien,” Annuaire de l’École Pratique des Hautes Étude IVe Section Sciences historiques et philologiques 1977/1978 (Paris, 1978), 82bis–84. 105   Hayes, Papyrus Late Middle Kingdom, 35; Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire,” 22. 106   Helck, “Die Opferstiftung des šn-mwt,” 23–34; Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 32 n. 51; David, Syntactic and LexicoSemantic Aspects, 34, 142. 101 102



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wd̠.t ¡wy.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb m hrw pn n ḥ ¡tj-ʿ t̠zwty ʿḥ ʿw nw šma mḥ w ‘Command issued as a manifestation of the royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health, in this day to the mayor, the commanders of ships of Upper and Lower Egypt’ (Nebamun’s appointment).107 wd̠.t ¡wy.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb m [hrw] pn n t̠¡ty sr.w smr.w qnb. wt sd̠my.w s¡-nsw n kwš ḥ ry.w pd̠.t jmy-r¡ nwb ḥ ¡ty.w-ʿ t̠s.w wḥ y.wt nw šmʿ mḥ w kd̠nw ḥ ry.w jḥ y.w t̠¡y.w sry.t rwd nb n pr nsw rmt̠ nb h¡b.w m wp.t r k[š] ‘Command issued as a manifestation of the royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health, in this [day] to the Vizier, the high officials, the courtiers, the council members, the judges, the king son of Kush, the troop commanders, the overseers of gold, mayors, the chiefs of the villages of Upper and Lower Egypt, the charioteers, the stablemasters, the standardbearers, every authorized proxy of King’s Estate, everyone sent on a mission to Kush” (Sethy I’s Nauri command, l. 29–30). wd̠.t ¡wy.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ m hrw pn n t̠¡.t sr.w smr.w ḳbnty.w sd̠my.w ḥ ¡tj.w-ʿ t̠s.w wḥ y.t [. . .] ‘Command issued as a manifestation of the royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health, in this day to the Vizier, the high officials, the courtiers, the council members, the judges, the mayors, the chiefs of the villages [of Upper and Lower Egypt . . .]’ (Ramses III’s Elephantine command).108

Instead of naming the addressees, the formulation could name the institution to which the royal command pertained: wd̠ ¡wy r ḥ w.t-nt̠r n jmn m hrw pn m ḥ sw.r mrw[.t] ‘Command issued pertaining to the temple of Amun in this day, in praises and love’ (Senenmut’s endownment, l. 2).109 [wd̠ ¡wy] m ḥ m n stp-s¡ r pr jmn-rʿ ‘A command has been issued as a manifestation of the royal service/ desire pertaining to the estate of Amun-Re’ (Osorkon I’s command).110

107   N. de G. Davies, The Tombs of two Officials of Thutmosis the Fourth (Nos 75 and 90) (TTS 3; London, 1923), pl. 26. 108   KRI V 343, 13; David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 141; Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 22 and 25–26; Shaw, “The Meaning of the Phrase m ḥ m n stp-s¡,” 188. 109   Helck, “Die Opferstiftung des šn-mwt,” 24; Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 122. 110   P. Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire,” 22 [e].

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Reference to a previous command and quotation could be made by using the phrase ¡wj wd̠.t ‘a royal command was issued’: ¡wj wd̠.t n ḫ ¡ n t̠¡.t m ḥ sb ¡bd 1 šmw sw 27 h¡w ḫ wj b¡q ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb ‘It is in year 1, first month of the Summer-season, day 27, time of the Happy Protector, Life, Safety, Health, that a command had been issued to the vizier’s office” (P. Berlin 10470 I, 8–9).111

4.3.1 Sometimes, a particular instruction is labeled in a manner very close to that of wd̠ ¡wj labeling, although not explicitly using the term: d̠dd.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb m hrw pn . . . ‘What has been said as a manifestation of royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health, in this day’ (Ahmes Nefertary’s second prophet of Amun office stela, l. 2–3).112 d̠dd.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb n . . . [s¡ nsw mr ḫ ]¡s.w-t rs.wt N jmy ḫ t. tw p¡ ḥ tp-nt̠r . . . ‘What has been said as a manifestation of royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health to the . . . [King’s son, O]verseer of the southern lands N: “Let the divine-offering . . .”’ (Thutmosis III’s Semna temple).113

That d̠dd.t referred to a royal command or, at the very least, was the preliminary step of a royal command is strongly suggested by the following adjunct: [. . .] wd-n st ḥ m=f ḥ r ḥ ¡tj.w-ʿ ḥ ḳ¡.w ḥ w.wt nw tp-rsy ¡bw m ḥ tr n t̠nwrnp.t r-mn-r ḥ ḥ ‘His Majesty has commanded it upon the governors and rulers of estates of Elephantine at the Head of the South as a yearly tax in perpetuity’ (col. 13).

Moreover, the formulation d̠dd.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb is strongly reminiscent of the formulation mj wd̠d.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ ‘as has been commanded as a manifestation of royal service/desire, Life,

111   P.C. Smither, “The Report Concerning the Slave-girl Senbet,” JEA 32 (1948): 31–34; A. Théodoridès, “La procèdure dans le Pap. Berlin 10.470,” RIDA 6 (1959): 139 n. 38; Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 51. 112   Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 100. 113   R.A. Caminos, Semna-Kumma I The Temple of Semna (Archaeological Survey of Egypt, Memoir 37; London, 1998), pl. 24–26 [col. 2–4].



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Safety, Health’, which was used by a high official to express his having directed works in a temple (Urk. IV, 409, 15). The formulation jr wd̠.t m stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb ‘a command was made as a manifestation of royal service/desire, Life, Safety, Health’ (Sheshonq I’s Heracleopolis command l. x+7;114 cf. also Sethy I’s Nauri command l. 25) seems to be a variation on the formulation d̠d.t m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb. Not well mastered archaizing formulations sometimes associate labeling wd̠-nsw, in the Old Kingdom style, with reminiscences of later wording: hrw nfr jr(.t) wd̠-nsw r dmj ḥ w.t-nt-rʿmssw-ḫ nty-ḥ ʿpy ‘A beautiful day. Making (or: of making) a royal command concerning the Mansion-of-Ramses-in-front-of-Hapy’ (Tefnakht’s donation to the temple of Neith, Athen).115

Delineating the Royal Command Object 4.4 •  In the Old Kingdom stone versions of royal commands, after the labeling of the wd̠-nsw itself, its content follows, expressed by the king in the first person. Positive statements use the formulations jw wd̠-n ḥ m(=j) ‘My Majesty has commanded . . .’,116 jw grt wd̠-n ḥ m(=j) ‘Moreover, My Majesty has commanded . . .’, corresponding to a perfect.117 Negative statements use the formulation n rdj-n ḥ m(=j) ‘there is no question that My Majesty could let . . .’. •  Sometimes, the king’s statement is expressed by direct command involving the positive imperative h¡j r=k r sḫ .t ‘go to the marshland . . .’ (Coptos L, col. 1),118 or the negative one jmj=k ‘do not . . .’, or, with the particle ḥ m, jmj=k ḥ m rdj ‘on the contrary, do not . . .’.119

114   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 4–7[n° 15]; Meffre, “Un nouveau nom d’Horus d’or de Sheshonq Ier sur le bloc Caire JE 39410,” 221–33. 115   R. El-Sayed, Documents relatifs à Sais et ses divinités (BdE 69; Cairo, 1975), 41–53. 116   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 245. 117   D. David, “Analyse du discours juridique dans les décrets royaux ramesside,” GM 199 (2004): 35. 118   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, fig. 17. 119   E. Oréal, Les particules en égyptien ancient: De l’ancien égyptien à l’égyptien classique (BdE 152; Cairo, 2011), 381–82.

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4.4.1 In the Middle Kingdom (Senusret III’s Deir el-Bahri command, col. 2, see §4.3), and in the New Kingdom (Amenhotep II’s Elephantine command adjunct Urk. IV, 1299, 6 see §5.2.1; numerous instances),120 the content was expressed using the formula jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j(/f ) ‘My (/His) Majesty has commanded . . .’, following the Old Kingdom style. The device is still taken over in Saïte command (Apries’s Memphis command, l. 2). When the command involves a prohibition, jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j(/f ) governs the negative tm auxiliary: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j(/f ) tm dj.t jr.tw m mjt.t jry ‘My (/His) Majesty has commanded not to allow that one act in the same way’ (Horemheb’s command, l. 31).

Sometimes, further stipulations of the royal command are expressed by extending the infinitive depending on jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j(/f ) through the sequential ḥ nʿ rdj.t ‘and causing . . .’ (Senusret III’s Deir el-Bahri command, col. 7 and 10); ḥ nʿ jr.t n=f ‘and making for him . . .’ (Khaneferre Sobekhotep’s Karnak command l. 12).121 When the pharaoh’s command is expressed by quoting his very speech in stead of the jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j(/f ) formulation, imperatives are used (with the jmy auxiliary: Rehotep’s command §7.5; Kamose’s second stela, l. 36; Thutmosis III’s Semna command),122 sometimes extended through the sequential conjunctive adapted in from the ‘égyptien de tradition’ style (Nectanebo I’s command about goods taxes, col. 11, see §5.2.1). 4.4.2 Beginning in the Middle Kingdom, the formula wd̠ ḥ m=f(/j) occurs in numerous instances (e.g., Khâneferre Sobekhotep’s Karnak command; Thutmosis III’s Heliopolis stela Berlin 163;123 Senenmut’s endownment, l. 2; Ramses III’s command to vizier To = KRI V, 231, 3; etc.).124 Wd̠ ḥ m=f, introducing the text of a command, may be understood as a genitival noun phrase ‘His Majesty’s command:’, as is wd̠-nsw,125 all

  David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 38–40, 164.   Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 32. 122   Caminos, Semna-Kumma I, pl. 25 [col. 3]. 123   A. Radwan, “Zwei Stelen aus dem 47. Jahre Thutmosis III,” MDAIK 37 (1981): 404. 124   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 167–68. 125   Fischer, Orientation of Hieroglyphs, 59. 120 121



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the more so since it sometimes shows the feminine form wd̠.t (Sethy I’s boundaries stelae, Fayum and Brooklyn 69.116.1 = KRI I, 45, 5 and 231, 16). From this perspective, when an infinitive follows directly, it is to be interpretated as an appositive: ‘His (/My) Majesty’s command: doing . . .’, as well as an object: wd̠ ḥ m=j ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb ḫ w(j).t mk.t t¡-d̠sr rsy ¡bd̠w ‘My Majesty Life, Saftey, Health’s command: protecting and safeguarding (or: to protect and safeguard) the “Land-apart”, south of Abydos’ (Neferhotep’s Abydos boundary stela).126 nsw d̠s=f wd̠ jr.t nt̠r ḥ tp nt̠r m-m¡w.t ‘The King in person. Command: renewing the divine-offering’ (Thutmosis III’s royal command for Amun, l. 36; Urk. IV, 170, 17) wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t mn n¡-n ¡ḥ .t(m) fq¡w n N ‘His Majesty’s command: establishing (or: to establish) these fields as a reward to N’ (Ay’s Giza command; Caire JdE 28019).127

However, the dependent prospective cannot be ruled out in some instance, such as: wd̠ ḥ m.f jr.tw spr ‘My Majesty’s command: let the petition of N be brought into effect’ (Senenmut’s endownment, l. 2).

Sometimes r+infinitive substitutes for the bare infinitive.128 Compare wd̠ ḥ m=f r w¡ḥ ḥ tp-nt̠r n jt=f (Ramses III, Medinet Habu = KRI V, 119, 4) with wd̠ ḥ m=f w¡ḥ ḥ tp-nt̠r n jt=f (Ramses III, Karnak = KRI V, 235, 11). The former may be translated ‘My Majesty’s command to establish a divine-offering to his father’. But this change may be also viewed as reflecting a different status of wd̠ in wd̠ ḥ m=f, probably as a reflex of the late Egyptian perfective, since it is attested with wd̠-n ḥ m=f, too:

126   A. Leahy, “A Protective Measure at Abydos in the Thirtheenth Dynasty,” JEA 75 (1989): 41–60. 127   Ch. Zivie, Giza au deuxième millénaire (BdE 70; Cairo, 1976), 177–82. 128   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 176. We may add another probable instance: A.A.M.A. Amer, “Tutankhamun's Decree for the Treasurer Maya,” RdÉ 36 (1985): 17–20.

288

pascal vernus wd̠-n ḥ m=f r tm rdj.t šʿd.tw jnr nb ‘Majesty has commanded not to extract any stone . . .’ (Nectanebo’s Abydos command).129

4.4.3 Since wd̠ ḥ m=f sometimes alternates with jw wd̠-n ḥ m.f (KRI V, 235, 11[d] contrasting with wd̠ ḥ m=f, KRI V, 235, 7), it could in some instances be interpreted as a perfective sd̠m=f, being the modernized counterpart of jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f. Such may also hold true for Late Period instances, even though the nominal interpretation ‘His Majesty’s command’, as an archaizing attempt, turns out to be an appealing alternative: wd̠=f sʿḥ ʿ [wd̠] . . . wd̠ ḥ m=f pḥ rr mšʿ=f ‘He has commanded (or: His Majesty’s command:) to erect a [stela] . . . His Majesty’s command that his army travels around’ (Taharqa’s Dahshur stela).130 wd̠ ḥ m=f sm¡(wy) m ḥ w.t-nt̠r=f ‘His Majesty has commanded (or: His Majesty’s command:) to make restorations in his temple . . .’ (Psammetik I’s Serapeum command).131 wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t twt nw d̠.t=j m ḥ w.wt-nt̠r nbw ‘His Majesty has commanded (or: His Majesty’s command:) to place statues of my body in all the temples’ (Psametik II’s command for Ḥ rjr-ʿ¡).132

The trend involving alternation of a classical Egyptian form ( jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f ) with one characteristic of more contemporary Egyptian (wd̠ ḥ m=f, perfective sd̠m=f ) illustrates the concept of “linguistic dissimilation.”133

  Burchardt, “Ein Erlass des Königs Necht-har-ehbet,” 55–58, see §8.5.   K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit Teil III: Die 25. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2009), 60 l. 2 and 4. 131   O. Perdu, Recueil des inscriptions royales saïtes Volume I: Psammétique Ier (Études d’Égyptologie 1; Paris, 2002), 40–41. 132   K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Die Stiftung von Privatstatuen mit Königsnamen in der 26. Dynastie,” GM 231 (2011): 58. 133   P. Vernus, “La position linguistique des textes des sarcophages,” in The World of the Coffin Texts: Proceedings of the Symposium on the Occasion of the 100th Birthday of Adriaan de Buck Leiden, December 17–19, 1992, ed H. Willems (Leiden, 1996), 164. 129 130

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4.4.4 Wd̠-n ḥ m=f introduces the royal command after the pharaoh’s titulary in some late Ramesside commands (Ramses III’s Medamud donation command, KRI V, 227, 7; Ramses III’s colossus donation command;134 Ramses III’s Mermeshaef donation command;135 Ramses III’s Tod and Karnak command, KRI V, 232, 7–8), and in the Third Intermediate Period and Late Period commands (Sheshanq I’s Gebel el-Silsila command;136 Turin inventary tablet;137 Nectanebo I’s command about goods taxes [see §5.2.1]; Nectanebo’s Abydos command).138 Whether it be intended as a second tense or not, it is to be interpretated as an archaizing attempt, given that sd̠m-n=f was felt, rightly or wrongly, to be a hallmark of classical Egyptian.139 The jn(-n.)tw n=k r dj.t rḫ =k ntt (/r-d̠d) Formulation 4.5 Beginning with the Middle Kingdom, when the command takes the form of a personal letter from the king, its content is expressed as dependant (ntt/r-d̠d) on the heading formulation jn(-n.)tw n=k wd̠ pn n nsw r dj.t rḫ =k (ntt/r-d̠d) ‘If this command of the king has been brought to you, it is to to make you know (that . . .)’. In Middle Kingdom and in early XVIIIth Dynasty instances, this formulation is introduced by the particle mk/mtn ‘behold’ (P. Brookyn 35.14146 r°, insertions B and C;140 Antef’s Coptos command; Thutmosis I’s Semna and Kuban command [see §5.2.1]; also in the fictitious command of Senusret I, Sinuhe B 181). The content of the command is expressed by the adverbial adjunct: ntt, as a complementizer of r rdj.t

  J.-L. Chappaz, “Une stèle de donation de Ramsès III,” BSÉG 27 (2005–2007): 13 [e].   D. Kessler, “Eine Landschenkung Ramses III,” SAK 2 (1975): 103–34; W. Helck, “Einige Bemerkungen zu Artikeln in SAK 2,” SAK 4 (1976): 115–24. 136   K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit Teil II, 22 l. 40. 137   H. Ricke, “Eine Inventartafel aus Heliopolis im Turiner Museum,” ZÄS 71 (1935): 111–33. Datation much disputed, see David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 215. A Late Period datation seems obvious to me, given the onomasticon and the style. 138   Burchardt, “Ein Erlass des Königs Necht-har-ehbet,” 55–58. 139   P. Vernus, “La datation de l’Enseignement d’Aménemopé: Le littéraire et le linguistique,” in Actes du Colloque Dating Egyptian Literary Texts June 9th–12th Göttingen 2010 (forthcoming 2012). 140   Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, pl. V–VI. 134 135

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rḫ =k ‘to make you know that . . .’,141 which carries the rhematic load, since the second tense marks the verbal form jn(-n.)tw as thematic. In Ramesside Period instances,142 r-ntt substitutes for the particle mk/mtn (pAnastasi IV, 10, 8–11, 8 and pAnastasi V, 1a;143 Ramses IX’s command, KRI VI, 518, 12; Ramses XI’s command, pTurin 1896, KRI VI, 734, 11–12).144 R-d̠d or m-d̠d ‘stating/to state (first person statements follows)’ substitutes for r rdj.t rḫ =k ntt ‘to make you know’. This kind of formulation is also used in a letter from an official to another (e.g., pBerlin P. 10463).145 Ficticious royal commands and mythological incorporations of royal commands follow the New Kingdom uses: jn.tw n=k wd̠ pn m ḥ m n Rʿ-twm m-d̠d r-ntt ‘If this king’s command has been brought from the Majesty of Re-Atum, (it is) to state what follows’ (Cairo Calendar of lucky and unlucky days;146 five times in the Book of the Temple).147

Sometimes, fictitious royal commands turn out to be rather inconsistent in implementing the phraseology. For instance, in the following quotation, the clumsy imitation of older phraseology is obvious (see the detail §9.1.2): jn.tw n=f wd̠-nsw pn r rdj.t rḫ =k ‘If this king’s command has been brought to him (sic!), it is to make you know’ (Hunger Stela col.1).

Sealing 4.6 The sealing of a royal command after it had been written out with its due diplomatic devices was the last stage of its standard layout. Thus,

141   For this expression in the mouth of the king, see D.B. Redford, “A royal speech from the blocks of the 10th pylon,” BES 3 (1981): 91. 142   A possible Middle Kingdom instance in pBerlin 10071 is quoted by David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 223. 143   P. Vernus, “P. Anastasi IV, 11, 4,” 144–45. 144   See in general David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 223. 145   R.A. Caminos, “Papyrus Berlin 10463,” JEA 49 (1963): 29–37. 146   Ch. Leitz, Tagewählerei: Das Buch ḥ ¡t nḥ ḥ pḥ .wy d̠t und verwandte Texte (ÄA 55; Wiesbaden, 1994), 147. See §9.3.1. 147   According to J. Quack, “Der historische Abschnitt,” 271.



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its authenticity would be guaranteed and it took on its full authoritative and executive strength.148 Reference to sealing royal commands was part of the required phraseology beginning in the 5th dynasty.149 The formula is ḫ tm r-gs nsw d̠s=f ‘sealed in the presence of the King in person’,150 either under the king’s names (e.g., Coptos O),151 or at the very bottom of the act (e.g., Neferirkare’s Abydos command;152 Neferkauhor = Coptos L).153 The formula appears again as a revival in the AhmesNefertary’s second prophet of Amun office stela,154 and in the Old Kingdom imitating royal command of Apries.155 The notion of sealing is salient also in incorporation of royal commands in funerary texts.156 4.7 The writing out of a testimonial royal command in its required script and layout was the task of the ḫ ¡ n zš (or s.t nt zš)157 ‘bureau of writing’, at least theorecally:158 jry=j n=k wd̠.w ʿ¡y.w m md.w št¡.w smn.w m ḫ ¡ n zš n t¡-mry ‘I have made for you important commands in secret words, being established in the bureau of writing of the Beloved-Land’ (pHarris 47, 9, see below, §5.2).

No such original version has been securely identified.

148   E. Otto, “Prolegomena zur Frage der Gesetzgebung und Rechtssprechung in Ägypten,” MDAIK 14 (1956): 155. 149   Goedicke, “Befehl, Theorie des,” 679; W. Boochs, Siegel und Siegeln im Alten Ägypten (Kölner Forschungen zu Kunst und Altertum, Bd 4 Abt. 4; Sankt Augustin, 1982), 45–47. 150   L. Pantalacci, “Un décret de Pépy en faveur des gouverneurs de l’oasis de Dakhla,” BIFAO 85 (1985): 249–50; Windus-Staginski, Der ägyptische König, 28. 151   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, fig. 19. 152   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, fig. 2. 153   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, fig. 17. 154   Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 102, l. 20. 155   Line 15: Gunn, “The Stela of Apries at Mitrahina,” 211–37; P. Der Manuelian, Living in the Past: Studies in Archaism of the Egyptian Twenty-sixth Dynasty (New York, 1994), 377; for its features: R. Gozzoli, The Writing of History in Ancient Egypt during the First Millenium BC (ca. 1070–180 BC) Trends and Perspectives (GHP Egyptology 5; London, 2006), 104. 156   J. Gee, “On the Practice of Sealing in the Book of the Dead and Coffin Texts,” JSSEA 45 (2008): 105–22. 157   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 110 n. 6. 158   In the Satrap stela, a command is reported to have been put in writing in the s.t nt zš n zš nsw n ḥ sb ‘bureau of writing of the royal scribe of account’ (Urk. II, 19, 4).

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4.7.1 The testimonial version was liable to be reproduced through copies according to the needs of the administrative practices. Indeed, the term mjty/mjt.t wd̠ ‘copy of the command’ is well known, not only in administrative practice,159 in private monumental versions (Usersatet stela, see §7.7), but also in literature (Sinuhe B 178, 180, 200), and in mythological incorporations (Cairo Calendar, see §§4.5 and 9.3.1). 4.7.2 We do have copies that may be rather close to the original version. Such is the case of the royal command addressed by Ramses XI to the viceroy of Kush Panehesy, cut off and included in a roll of documents pertaining to the temple archive of Amun (pTurin 1896).160 It is a letter in which the king orders the viceroy to help an official sent to the south to make some preparations for the travel of a goddess’s shrine. The document shows what diplomatic marks of a standardized apparatus are: king’s protocol; formulaic layout naming the addressee by means of the formulation ‘this command of the king has been brought to you’; highly stylized ‘écriture de chancellerie (chancery script)’.161 Copies of several royal commands relating to an institution could be combined so as to form a roll. This fact is substantiated in the Gebelein archives, which include a set of wd̠-nsw documents bearing the name of Horus of Izi in a serekh. It relates to a principle of achieving according to the categories of documents.162 Copies of royal commands were reported to have been kept in the library of the Tebtynis temple.163 This

159   W. Helck, Altägyptischen Aktenkunde des 3. und 2. Jahrtausend (MÄS 31; Munich, 1974). 160   A. el-M. Bakir, Egyptian Epistolography from the Eighteenth to the Twenty-First Dynasty (BdE 48; Cairo, 1979), pl. 31; KRI VI, 734–35. Translation: Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 3–4 [20]. For the historical background, see K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Das Ende des Neuen Reiches,” ZÄS 119 (1992): 26–27. 161   Cf. P. Vernus, “ ‘Littérature’, ‘littéraire’ et supports d’écriture: Contribution à une théorie de la littérature dans l’Égypte pharaonique,” EDAL 2 (2012): 32 n. 86. The intended care did prevent the writer from making mistakes, for instance the dittography of pn[[n]] d-d̠d, line 5. 162   P. Posener-Krieger, “Décrets envoyés au temple funéraire de Rêneferef,” in Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar (BdE 97/2; Cairo, 1985), vol. II, 195–210; S. Allam, “À propos de quelques décrets royaux de l’Ancien Empire,” CdE 63 (1988), 36–41. 163   J. Quack, “Grammatische Bemerkungen zu einer Formel der Eheverträge,” Enchoria 19–20 (1992–1993), 221–23; K. Ryholt, “On the Contents and Nature of the Tebtunis Tempel Library,” in Tebtynis und Soknopaiu Nesos: Leben im römerzeitlichen Fajum, ed. S. Lippert and M. Schentuleit (Wiesbaden, 2005), 152.



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may be a late echo of the practice of keeping royal commands in the archives of an institution. A copy of a royal command could be inserted into the relevant file. So, a royal command of Ramses IX to the first prophet Ramsesnakht was cut off and included in a roll of documents pertaining to the temple archive of Amun.164 It is as an outstanding ‘pièce justificative’ that one royal command is quoted from its copy on a leather roll belonging to the vizier’s bureau in the report of a legal procedure pertaining to a servant (P. Berlin 10470 I, 8–12).165 Copies of many royal commands were liable to be sent to the vizier’s bureau, as suggested by such a formula as ḥ nʿ ¡w( j).t st n ḫ ¡ n t̠¡.t ‘and issue it to the vizier’s bureau’ (Stèle juridique l. 22).166 Among the seven texts copied on a Late Middle Kingdom Papyrus from the Theban region, there are two royal commands addressed to the vizier Ankhu (pBrooklyn 35.4446).167 It is uncertain wether they are closely related to the other documents on the same papyrus.168 The sole common feature may be that they all belong to the archives of an office devoted to the administration of forced labor. 4.7.3 We may expect copies of royal command to have been treated according to certain formal and respectful arrangements. And indeed, we see a picture of the manner in which the version of the royal command, enclosed in a cylindric box, was carried by a scribe and then handed over to the recipient.169 This careful way of storage has been taken over in a ritual scene vowed to sanctify Sethy I’s Nauri royal command in favor of Osiris’s estate in the temple of Abydos; the cylindric box is labeled ḥ n and associated with a satuette of Sethy I presented to Osiris

164   W. Helck, “Wolfgang. Ein Briefsammlung aus der Verwaltung des Amuntempels,” JARCE 6 (1967): 135–51; KRI VI, 516–17; Vernus, “Les décrets royaux,” 243 n. 27. 165   Smither, “The Report Concerning the Slave-girl Senbet,” 31–34; Théodoridès, “La procèdure dans le Pap. Berlin 10.470,” 131–54; Quirke, Administration of Egypt, 203–10. 166   P. Lacau, Une stèle juridique de Karnak (CASAE 13; Cairo, 1949). 167   Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, passim. 168   Théodoridès, “Du rapport entre les parties du P. Brooklyn Museum 35.1446,” 131–54; Quirke, Administration of Egypt, 127–54. 169   Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials of Thutmosis the Fourth, pl. 26.

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by Ramses II.170 In a similar but later adaptation of a royal command into a ritual scene, a copy was kept in the mks container (see §9.3.3).171 The reception of a royal command by its beneficiary involved no less respectful behavior. Sinuhe is reported to have accepted Sesostris I’s command in the following manner: šd-n.t(w)=f n=j dj-n(=j) wj ḥ r h̠.t=j dmj-n=j s¡w.t dj-n=j sw sn(j .w) ḥ r šnb.t=j ‘As soon as it was read to me, I laid myself on my belly, I touched the ground, and I put it stretched out on my chest’ (Sinuhe B 200–1).

It is true that he was all the more prone to show signs of respect toward the command, since he hoped that it carried good news for him! Monumental Versions of Royal Command 5 We should distinguish between two main types of monumental attestations of the royal commands. 1.  Royal commands on public monuments. A royal command, as well as other pharaohs’ textual material, was liable to be displayed, or, at least, alluded to on monumental surfaces or even on object surfaces, either explicitly or implicitly (§5.1) Often, the royal command was displayed on a surface especially devoted to it. Any king who issued a royal command might have it displayed on a stela or on stelae—sometimes as an autonomous part of a temple wall—especially devoted to it, and erected in a place associated with the content of the command (§5.2). Besides those versions, a royal command might be quoted or alluded to within a larger set aiming at celebrating the king’s achievements, according to the relevant ideology, and at recording his benefactions for such and such deity (§5.3). Most of the monumental royal commands display a particular ideological apparatus (§6).

  S. Cauville, “La charte d’immunité d’Abydos,” JARCE 45 (2009): 397–401.   Cauville rightly pointed out a possible link with the mks, but was not aware of the Late Period scene. 170 171



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2.  Royal commands on private monuments A royal command might be quoted or alluded to on a private monument, statue, stela, tomb chapel, or object received as a gift (7). Monumental Public Versions: Explicit and Implicit 5.1 As regard the public monumental versions of royal commands, a basic distinction should be made between: •  ‘Explicit versions’, i.e., versions that intend to reproduce a royal command as such,172 whether it be in an abridged way, through quotations of its original wording. The criterion is the fact that the command is labeled by means of the standard technical formulations wd̠-nsw (§4.2) or wd̠ ¡wy (§4.3). Sometimes, the layout may mirror to some extent the original layout, for instance, by using horizontal lines for the addressee and vertical columns for the text itself (Thutmosis I’s Semna and Kuban command [see §5.2.1]), or by using vertical columns for the whole command, while the main texts of the ideological apparatus are written in horizontal lines (Senusret III’s Deir el-Bahri command [see §4.2]). •  ‘Implicit versions’, i.e., that undoubtedly implement a royal command, but do not use the standard technical formulations wd̠-nsw or wd̠ ¡wy. The reference to a full-fledged royal command appears from their content, particularly from formulations that mirror the standard phraseology, such as wd̠ ḥ m=f ‘His Majesty’s command’ (§4.4.2), or (jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j (/ḥ m=f ) ‘My(/His) Majesty has commanded’ (§4.4.1). A good instance is afforded by a royal command of Nectanebo I in 380 B.C., of which at least two monumental versions on stelae were erected (see §5.2.1). The ideological apparatus and the phraseology, particularly the formulation wd̠-n ḥ m=j ḫ w(j.t) mk.t ‘My Majesty has commanded to protect and safeguard’, make it clear that we are dealing

172   In the case of Sheshonq I’s Heracleopolis command, the word wd̠.t, is clearly meant for wd̠.t nsw, especially since the text uses the formula wd̠.t jr m stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb. See §4.3.1.

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with a reference to a royal command, even though neither the technical heading term wd̠-nsw nor the wd̠ ¡wy labeling are quoted. In the same way, the strongly ideological inscriptions carved on the temple of Kanais in Wadi Mia by Sethy I probably implement some royal command, despite the absence of wd̠-nsw.173 This is made obvious by a cross-reference to wd̠ tn ‘this command’ (l. 19, KRI I, 70, 3), by the curses against violators, and by the formulation: ʿḥ ʿ-n wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t m-ḥ r n ḫ rp k¡.t n k¡w.tyw nsw ḥ nʿ=f m h̠rty.w-nt̠r ‘Therefore His Majesty commanded that charge be laid upon the controller of the royal workmen who were with him as stonemasons’ (Sethy I’s Kanais command B 9–10; KRI I, 67, 1–2).

Sometimes, an inscription is intended as a mere commemoration of a previous royal command: zp tpy n ḥ m=f r dj.t m-ḥ r n N r thm k¡.t ‘the first occasion that His Majesty laid (lit.: the first occasion of His Majesty concerning laying . . .) charge upon N to carry out the work’ (Gebel Silsila).174

This inscription was made in a salient position in the cliff above a quarry. It commemorates a set of measures that were certainly stipulated through royal commands. However neither the technical terms wd̠-nsw ‘royal command’ and wd̠ ¡wy ‘command issued’, nor even, the verb wd̠ ‘command’ are explicitly quoted. Royal Commands Displayed on a Public Monument Especially Devoted to It 5.2 In Old Kingdom, the texts of several royal commands pertaining to a particular institution were displayed on stelae in a layout barely reflecting the diplomatic apparatus.175

173   Discussion in David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 112; Morales, “Threats and warnings,” passim. 174   Urk. IV, 1962; W. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period in Egypt (Writing from the Ancient World Society of Biblical Literature 5; Atlanta, 1995), 29; D. Laboury, Akhénaton (Les grands pharaons; Paris, 2010), 99. 175   Helck, Altägyptischen Aktenkunde, 10.

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Nevertheless, one should not follow the lead of certain scholars who take such versions as the original editions. They are but monumental copies made for publicity. Indeed, the labeling of a royal command may include a measure pertaining to its being displayed on a monumental stela in a place related to its content: sḫ p.t ʿ m wd̠ pn dy r wd̠ n jnr rwd (var. ḥ d̠) r ʿrrw.t nt pr mnw m gbtjw m nt̠r.wy r m¡¡ jmy.w st-ʿ nw sp¡.t tn ‘Let a document consisting of this command be brought so that it can be put on a stela of sandstone (var.: limestone) near the gates of the temple of Min in Coptos in (the nome of) the two gods, in order that employees of this nome might see’ (Coptos B, l.33–35, sim. Coptus C and D).176

At a later period, the same concern may be expressed within the ideological apparatus of a royal command:177 d̠d-jn ḥ m=f jmy smn-t(w) nn ḥ r ʿḥ ʿ pn ‘His Majesty said: “may this (= the measures) be established on this stela”’ (Nectanebo I’s command about goods taxes, col. 13, see §5.2.1).178

Moreover, in the New Kingdom, the displaying of a royal command on a monument especially devoted to it—besides its being written out in its regular layout in the chancery—attested to the efficiency of the king. This may be inferred from the following proclamation of Ramses III: jry=j n=k wd̠.w ʿ¡y.w m md.w št¡.w smn.w m ḫ ¡ n zš n t¡-mry jrw m ʿḥ ʿ.w n jnr ‘I have made for you important commands in secret words,179 being established in the bureau of writing of the Beloved-Land, made on stone stelae’ (pHarris 47, 9).

  Théodoridès, “Une charte d’immunité d’Ancien Empire,” 96–97.   This holds true for commands issued by the god, according to the theocratic conception of ruling over human affairs; jr se m wd̠ ḥ r ʿhʿy ‘who have it made as a command on a stela’ ( banishment stela Louvre C256, l. 18; Jansen-Winken, Inschriften des Spätzeit I, 73). 178   Same concern might appear on the Taharqa occidental desert stela (l.2), see H. Altenmüller and A. Moussa, “Die Inschriften der Taharqastele von der Dahschurstrasse,” SAK 9 (1981): 64, fig. 2, and Jansen-Winken, Inschriften des Spätzeit III, 60, suggesting smn [wd̠]. 179   The word ‘secret’ seems to stand in stark contradiction to the public nature of the inscription; it may perhaps refer to the fact that the commands were inspired by the god. 176 177

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At any period, as a rule, a royal command was all the more prone to be displayed on a monument since its content concerned a broad audience. And indeed, no small efforts were made to make it conspicuous: Haremhab’s command was inscribed on a huge stela, more that five meters high. Sethy II’s command pertaining to the carriers guild of Amun, Mut, and Khonsu was displayed in the form of a stela carved on the southern wall of ‘cour de la cachette’ in Karnak (KRI IV, 263–66, n°18);180 Ramses III’s Karnak commands were displayed as an autonomous decoration on the exterior of the eastern wall of the interior court in his temple inside the Karnak temple.181 Hence, the fact that the original word wd̠ ‘command’ developed a self-sufficient meaning ‘stela’, provided with a specific determinative/ .182 ideogram

‡lq

5.2.1 A royal command could be displayed on several stelae. Thutmosis I’s command about his new titulary is currently known in two versions, one from Buhen, another from Kuban.183 A fragment of a duplicate of Horemheb’s Karnak command was discovered in Abydos.184 Of Nectanebo I’s command about taxing imported and locally made goods,185 a mainly ideological version has been displayed on two stelae erected, one at Thonis/Héracleion, the entrance emporion, and the other at Naucratis, the Greek harbor inside the Egyptian Delta.186 A fictitious

180   We should distinguish such a case in which a command is displayed for itself, marked as wholly autonomous, on a temple wall, from cases in which a command is fully integrated into the layout of the ritual scenes decorating a temple wall (see, for instance, Thutmosis III’s arrangements for the cult of Senusret III, quoted above, §5.3). 181   The Epigraphic Survey, Reliefs and Inscriptions at Karnak, Volume II. Ramses III’s Tempel within the Great Inclosure of Amon, Part II; and Ramses III’s Temple in the Precinct of Mut (Chicago, 1936), pl. 108. 182   Z. Žába, “Deux mots du Wörterbuch réunis,” Archiv Orientalní 24 (1956): 272– 75; Vernus “Wd̠/wd̠.t ‘ordonnance’,” (forthcoming). 183   Urk. IV, 79–81; M.-A. Bonhême, “Les désignations de la ‘titulature royale’ au Nouvel Empire,” BIFAO 78 (1978): 380; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 66–70. 184   Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 4. 185   M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature. Volume III: The Late Period (Berkeley, 1980), 86–89; Gozzoli, The Writing of History, 104–5; bibliography in D. Klotz, “Two Studies of the Late Period Temples of Abydos,” BIFAO 110 (2010): 138. 186   J. Yoyotte, “Le second affichage du décret de l’an 2 de Nekhetnebef et la découverte de Thonis-Héracléion,” Égypte, Afrique et Orient 24 (2001): 24–34; Trésors engloutis d’Égypte, ed. J. Yoyotte and F. Godio (Paris, 2006), 218.



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command pertaining to the temple of Amun of Taudjoy was reportedly carved on two stelae (see §2.5.2). Sometimes, a record of a royal command was appended on a monument not primarilary devoted to it: on his Elephantine victory stela Amenhotep II caused to be added a quotation of a two-fold command pertaining to the cults of the town; nothing was added on the Karnak duplicate.187 5.2.2 The concern for publicity is also amply substantiated by many of the so-called ‘donation-stelae’. For instance, while the lunette is devoted to a scene showing pharaoh offering to a deity, the main inscription begins with the date of reign followed by wd̠ ḥ m=f, by jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f, or jr wd̠-nsw, for example: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f ḥ n pr jt=f mnt̠w ḥ ry-jb m¡dw r ḥ ḥ ḥ nʿ d̠.t r tm rdj.t th.tw r rmt̠=f nb His Majesty commanded to organize the estate of his father Montu, who dwells in Medamud for always and eternity, so as prevent abuses being done against any of his personnel188 (Thutmosis IV). hrw nfr jr(.t) wd̠-nsw r dmj ḥ w.t-nt-rʿmssw-ḫ nty-ḥ ʿpy ‘A beautiful day. Making (or of making) a royal command concerning the Mansion-of-Ramses-in-front-of-Hapy’ (Tefnakht’s donation to the temple of Neith, Athens National Archaeological Museum).189

A boundary stela was, of course, welcome as a monumental surface for a royal command dealing with deliminating a particular area. Most of the so-called ‘donation stelae’ were actually boundary stelae,190 erected to mark the area under the scope of a royal command, and to protect it by performatively summoning up the pharaoh’s power and the magical virtue of curses (New Kingdom instances: Brooklyn 69.116.1 = KRI I, 231 [n° 100]; CGC 34005 = KRI I, 45 [n° 23]). Not infrequently, such 187   CGC 34019; Urk. IV, 1299, 1–12; P. Der Manuelian, Studies in the Reign of Amenophis II (HÄB 26; Hildescheim, 1987), 22; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 284. 188   R. B. Bigler and B. Geiger, “Eine Schenkungsstele Thutmosis’ IV,” ZÄS 121 (1994): 11–17; with wd̠-n ḥ m=f, Chappaz, “Une stèle de donation de Ramsès III,” 7. 189   El-Sayed, Documents relatifs à Sais, 41–53. 190   D. Meeks, “Les donations aux temples das l’Égypte du Ier millénaire avant J.-C.,” in State and Economy in the Ancient Near East (OLA 62), E. Lipiński (Leuven, 1979), vol. II, 608–10; Meeks, “Une stèle de donation de la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire,” ENIM 3 (2009): 138–54; Menu, Recherches sur l’histoire juridique II, 136.

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stelae explicitly defined the limits of the plot of land that constituted the object of the donation. Sometimes the very labeling of the royal command involved the demarcating of the area. For instance: wd̠-n ḥ m=f ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb dgs ¡ḥ .t ‘His Majesty, Life, Safety, Health commanded to make the demarcation of a field’ (Ramses III’s donation for his statue).191

5.2.3 At a later period, there are reportedly two different and complementary ways for a royal command to be made sacred: displaying it on a stela and writing it out on a tablet, like various temple compositions:192 sph̠r wd̠.t tn ḥ r ʿḥ ʿy m bw-d̠sr m zš ḥ r-ntt ḫ pr=ø mj d̠d-ø ḥ nʿ (ḥ r) ʿny wn(n) nt̠r.w m r¡-pr.w ḥ r=f ‘May this command be copied in writing on a stela in the sacred place because it happened like it was told, (and on) tablets on which the divine words in the temples are (written)’ (Hunger Stela, col. 32).

Monumental Royal Command as an Element of a Larger Set 5.3 Instead of being carved on a stela or on a part of a wall especially devoted to it, a monumental version of a royal command could be integrated as a mere element into the decoration of a temple. For instance, a mention of a command issued by Ramses II for instituting the divine-offering of Osiris-first-of-the-Westerners is inserted into the inscriptions carved on the southern wall of his Abydos temple, on the bandeau between the eastern and western doors (KRI II, 515, 9–11).193 Elsewhere, quotations of or allusions to a royal command occurred within a composition aiming at recording the accomplishments of a pharaoh: for instance, the quotation of a royal command within Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition record (see §6.4.1); within High Priest Osorkon records (see §2.5.1); etc. Thutmosis III’s arrangements for the cult of Senusret III taking part in the divine offering of Dedun

  Kessler, “Eine Landschenkung Ramses III,” 103–34.   P. Vernus, “Schreibtafel,” dans Lexikon der Ägyptologie V, ed. W. Helck and W. Westendorf (Wiesbaden, 1983), 705. 193   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 173. 191 192

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have been laid out as one of the ritual scenes carved on the temple walls.194 Amenhotep III’s Soleb command for protecting and safeguarding the people of Thebes has been inserted into the wall decoration of his jubilee temple in Soleb.195 Osorkon II adaptated it in his jubilee temple in Bubastis.196 Ideological Apparatus in Monumental Versions 6 The earliest monumental versions of a royal command exhibit the bare text, in a layout that mirrors the layout of the testimonial version; they are mere stone incorporations of a papyrus/leather manuscript. Later, any monumental version—whether it be explicit or implicit—involved an ideological apparatus: •  ritual scene (§6.1); •  expansion of the titulary (§6.2); •  epilogue (§6.3); •  staging the pharaoh as a character; the Königsnovelle stock (§6.4). Ritual Scene 6.1 The most widely attested ideological apparatus consists of a ritual scene—or two ritual scenes back to back (e.g., Thutmosis III’s Buto command; Nectanebo I’s command for taxing; etc.)—showing the pharaoh offering to a deity above the main inscription relating to the command itself. It aims to summarize the act in its essence. This format appears already in the 6th dynasty. Under the symbol of heaven, King Pepy I is depicted offering to Min, the King’s mother Iput behind him, while a stereotyped formula functions as basement. Beneath, the royal command deals with protecting the the ka-chapel of queen Iput

  Caminos, Semna-Kumna I, pl. 24–26, see §4.3.1.   M. Schiff Giorgini, Soleb V. Le temple. Bas-reliefs et inscriptions (Cairo, 1998), pl. 94–98; Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 29–30. 196   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 112 [n° 13]; Gozzoli, The Writing of History, 35–41. 194 195

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from any requisition from the residence officials (Coptos A).197 This standard division in the monumental version between an upper part, devoted to the ritual scene with captions, and a lower part, devoted to the main text, is the basic layout for a royal command, whether it be explicit or implicit, in the Middle Kingdom (e.g., Senusret III’s Deir el-Bahri command; Khasekhemre Néferhotep Abydos boundary stela), in the New Kingdom (e.g., Thutmosis I’s Semna and Kuban command; Thutmosis III’s Buto command; etc.), and in the Late Period (Nectanebo I’s command about taxing). The high frequency of this device, which is implemented even in donation stelae, is readily understandable since most of the available documents involve some religious institution, and at a more general level, since a royal command allegedly reflects the gods’ will. Eulogy as a Continuation of the Titulary 6.2 Beginning with the Late Middle Kingdom, monumental versions of royal commands show a general trend toward extending the ideological apparatus far beyond the mere ritual scene. It is first substantiated by developing, as a continuation of the pharaoh’s titulary, an eulogy, based on a set of epithets and devoted to proclaiming the paramount status of the pharaoh—his virtues and his benevolence for gods, ancestors, and people, his power capable of subduing foreign countries,198 etc. Typical, for instance, is the preamble of Thutmosis III’s Buto command, the preamble of Sethy I’s Aswan command (KRI I, 74, 7–12), the fragmentary first part of the preamble of Horemheb’s command,199 the preamble of Ramses III’s Karnak commands (KRI V, 234, 12–237, 11), the first part of the preamble of Nectanebo I’s command about taxing. In the monumental version of Sethy I’s Nauri command, the eulogy is not the direct continuation of the titulary, since it is separated from the titulary by elements belonging to the thematic stock of the Königsnovelle (§6.4.2): the location of the pharaoh and the narrative state-

  Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 43.   P. Beylage, Aufbau der Königliche Stelentexte von Beginn der 18. Dynastie bis zur Amarnazeit (ÄAT 54; Wiesbaden, 2002), 693–702. 199  Gnirs,“Haremhab—Ein Staatreformator?” 197 198

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ment relating his concern for the gods. The eulogy is rather long and highly elaborated. Some scholars have characterized it as a “literary frame.”200 However, the term ‘literary’ sounds likely only provided that it is used in its wide/weak meaning.201 The eulogy, although basically structured on a set of epithets, encompasses an address by the gods to the king in the second person, which contrasts with his first person speech, another element of the Königsnovelle, which appears as the labeling of the command itself. 6.3 In monumental versions of royal commands, the wording of the command is often followed by an epilogue which aims at situating it within the larger conception of the pharaoh’s activity, involving a theory of reciprocity. An early example is afforded by Sesostris III’s Deir elBahri royal command (see §4.2); the main text gives only the names of the king and remains relatively close to the wording of the testimonial version. But a strictly ideological comment shows up in the short epilogue that characterizes the command as an act on behalf of one of his ancestor, king Montuhotep Nebhepetre. In Khasekhemre Neferhotep’s boundary stela in Abydos, the wording of the royal command is bracketed between the beginning of a formulation and its end: jr-n=f m mnw=f n jt=f wp-w¡.wt nb t¡-d̠sr . . . jr=f n=f dj ʿnḫ d̠d w¡s snb ¡w jb=f ḥ nʿ k¡=f ḥ r s.t ḥ r mj rʿ d̠.t It is for his father, Wepwaut, lord of the Land-apart that he has acted with a monument from him . . . while assuming for him the status of one to whom life, stability, prosperity has been given, so that he may be happy with his ka on the throne of Horus like Re forever.202

A later typical illustration occurs in Ramses III’s Karnak command: jr-n=j nn n jt=j jmn mj ʿ¡=f r nt̠r nb mj rdj[[.t]]-n=f n=j ḳn nḫ t pd̠.t psd̠.t wʿf h̠r tb.wy(=j) ‘If I have made this for my father Amun, it is because he is greater than any god, because he has given to me courage and victory, the nine bows being subdued under my two sandals’ (KRI V, 235, 9–10).   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 18 n. 7.   Vernus, “ ‘Littérature’, ‘littéraire’ et supports d’écriture,” 16. 202   Leahy, “A Protective Measure at Abydos in the Thirtheenth Dynasty,” 42, fig. 1, l. 1 and 9. 200 201

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Sometimes, the epilogue consists of an exhortation to the addressees: jw=tn (r) jr(.t)=f jw=f m šs m šs mḥ mḥ jw=tn ḥ r jr.t ḥ n.t ḥ r-ḥ r=f [m-b¡ḥ ] n¡ nt̠r.w jw=tn (r) d̠d n=w ssnb pr-ʿ¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb p¡( y)=tn šrj nfr m mn.t jmy n=f nḫ t n ḫ pš=f m t¡ nb . . . [h̠r] t̠b.wy=f d̠.t You shall enforce it (= the command arrangements), very well and in its entirety (lit.: it being very well and very complete), while you are performing a duty pertaining to it before the gods. You shall tell them: “Keep in good health Pharaoh, Life, Safety, Health, your good son, daily. Give him victory for his arm in every land . . . [under] his two sandals, eternally” (Sethy II’s Karnak command, KRI IV, 266, 4–6).

Staging the Pharaoh 6.4 The ideological apparatus of a royal command monumental not infrequently involves staging the pharaoh. This staging may consist of bare ceremonial notations in the impersonal annalistic style (§6.4.1). But it may turn out to be far more elaborate and to implement something of the so-called Königsnovelle, a stock of more and less standardized thematic devices, through which the ideology models the pharaoh’s political decisions203 (§6.4.2). Ceremonial Notation in the Annalistic Style 6.4.1 Standard phrases belonging to the annalistic style, such as ḫ pr ḥ ms.t nsw ‘appearing of a king’s sitting’,204 ḫ ʿ.t nsw ‘appearing of the king’,205 203   The Königsnovelle has aroused a lot of contributions since its thematization by A. Hermann. See, e.g., I. Shirun-Grumach, Offenbarung, Orakel und Königsnovelle, passim; Shirun-Grumach, “Kadesh Inscriptions and Königsnovelle,” in Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists (OLA 82), ed. Ch. Eyre (Leuven, 1998), 1067–73; A. Loprieno, “The King’s Novel,” in Ancient Egyptian Literature. History and Forms (PdÄ 10), ed. A. Loprieno (Leiden, 1996), 277–95; A. Spalinger, Aspects of the Military Documents of the Ancient Egyptians (Yale Near Eastern Researches 9; New Haven, 1986); Spalinger, “The Destruction of Mankind: A transitional Literary Text,” SAK 28 (2000): 257–82; B. Hoffmann, Die Königsnovelle: Strukturanalyse am Einzelwerk (ÄAT 62; Wiesbaden, 2004); etc. 204   In general, A. Piccato, “The Berlin Leather Roll and the Egyptian Sense of History,” LingAeg 5 (1997), 139. 205   D.B. Redford, Pharaonic King-Lists, Annals and Day-Books: A Contribution to the Study of the Egyptian Sense of History (Mississauga, 1986), 91.



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could be used to set up the ceremonial circumstances in which the pharaoh issued a royal command: ḫ ʿ.t ḥ m=f ḥ r t̠nt¡.t n d̠ʿm [ . . . sr].w smr.w m-jtr.ty ḥ r gs.wy=f ‘Appearing of His Majesty on the Great Place on the throne of electrum . . . the high dignitaries, the courtiers in two rows on each of his sides’ (Appointment of Qenamun, TT n° 93).206 ḫ ʿ(t.) m ḥ w.t-nt̠r n jmn nty m ḥ w.t ḥ b-sd ḥ tp ḥ r sp¡ šsp ḫ w(j).t t¡.wy jn nsw ‘(Date) Appearing in the temple of Amun which is in the Mansion of Heb-sed. Taking place on the sedan chair. Starting the protection of the Two Lands by the king’ (Amenhotep III’s Soleb).207 ḫ ʿ(.t) ḥ m=f m ʿḥ nt ḥ tp m ḥ w.t-nt̠r nt nt bs nsw m ḥ w.t-nt ḫ ʿ(.t) m nt( y) r-gs mw.t=f ḫ np-n=f qbḥ n jt=f nb nḥ ḥ m ḥ w.t-nt ‘Appearing of His Majesty in the palace in Sais. Taking place in the temple of Neith. King’s introduction in Hut-Neith. Appearing as the onewith-the-red-crown beside his mother after having presented libation to his father, the Lord of eternity in Hut-Neith’ (Nectanebo I’s command about goods taxing, col. 7–8; see §5.2.1). ḫ pr ḥ ms.t nsw m d̠¡dw wd̠ ḥ m=j jry.tw . . . ‘Appearing of a king’s sitting in the audience-hall. My Majesty’s command that . . . should be made’ (Thutmosis III’s Karnak inscription l. 20).208 ḫ pr ḥ ms.t m d̠¡dw ḫ ʿ.t nsw m ¡tf ḥ r s.t wr.t nt d̠ʿm m-h̠nw d̠srw nw ʿḥ =f st̠¡.tw wr.w smr.w nw stp-s¡ r sd̠m sšm n wd̠.t wd̠ nsw n šps.w=f . . . ‘(Date) Appearing of a sitting in the audience-hall. Appearing of the King with the atef-crown on his great throne of fine gold in the intimacy of his palace. The great ones, the courtiers of the royal service were introduced to hear directives (sšm n wd̠.t). Royal command to his nobles . . .’ (Hatshesput’s Punt expedition record; Urk. IV, 349, 10–16).

206   Urk. IV, 1385 6–7; S. Pasquali, “La date du payrus BM 10056 Thoutmosis III ou Amenhotep II ?,” RdÉ 58 (2007): 71–86. 207   Schiff Giorgini, Soleb V, pl. 94–98; parallel: Osorkon II’s Bubastis command: Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 112 [n° 13]; Gozzoli, The Writing of History, 35–41. 208   A.H. Gardiner, “Thutmosis III Returns Thanks to Amun,” JEA 38 (1952): pl. II.

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pascal vernus Implementing the Königsnovelle Form into Monumental Versions

6.4.2 The ideological apparatus that may be used to justify the royal command—whether it be directly or indirectly stated—often implements the Königsnovelle form for setting up the conditions in which a royal command was issued through a staging of the king. The preamble no longer consists of a set of epithets; it involves location indication, then narrative and speech. This has led some scholars to consider wrongly that the Königsnovelle was bound to royal commands by essence,209 while it is only a matter of the ideological apparatus, and not an inherent feature of the juridical deed in itself. Actually, the Königsnovelle form is used in records that are not royal commands, and conversely, many royal commands do not use the Königsnovelle form. 6.4.2.1 In abridged versions the reference to the Königsnovelle is limited to indicating the pharaoh’s location: jw.tw m mn-nfr wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t mn n¡-n ¡ḥ .t(m) fḳ¡w n N ‘One was in Memphis. His Majesty’s command: establishing . . .’ (Ay’s Giza command).210 jw ḥ m=f m-h̠ nw pr-¡s.t p¡ k¡ ʿ¡ n ḥ r-¡ḫ ty̠ wd̠-n ḥ m=f . . . ‘(Date) His Majesty was in Per-aset, the great ka of Harakhtes. His Majesty has commanded . . .’ (Sheshanq I’s Gebel el-Silsila command).211

The indication of location is sometimes combined with standard formulation: jw=tw m t¡ ḥ w.t-k¡ n jry pʿ.t zš nsw jmn-ḥ tp st̠¡w t̠¡.t . . . mr pr-ḥ d̠ . . . n¡ zš nsw n p¡ mšʿ

209   Typical of this confusion: the not very illuminating commentary of N. Grimal, La stèle triomphale de Pi(ankhi) au Musée du Caire: Études sur la propagande royale égyptienne I (MIFAO 105; Cairo, 1981), 297–98. A far more insightful treatment can be found in J. Assmann, “Die Piye (Pianchi)Stele: Erzählung als Medium politischer Repräsentation,” in Die Erzählen in frühen Hochkulturen I. Der Fall Ägypten (Ägyptologie und Kulturwissenschaft 1), ed. H. Roeder (Munich, 2009), 236. 210   Caire JdE 28019 = Zivie, Giza au deuxième millénaire, 177–82. 211   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 22 l. 39–45.



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‘(Date) One was in the funerary temple of the hereditary prince, royal scribe Amunhotep. The vizier . . ., the overseer of the White House . . ., the royal scribes of the army were introduced’ (apocryph Amenhotep III’s command in favor of Amenhotep son of Hapu, see §9.1).

6.4.2.2 The indication of location may be extended by a formulation describing what kind of occupation the pharaoh was busy with: jst ḥ m=f m dmj n ḥ w.t-k¡-ptḥ ḥ r jr.t ḥ ss.t jt=f jmn-rʿ ptḥ rsy-jnb=f nb ʿnḫ -t¡.wy nt̠r.w nb.w t¡-mry “(Date) Lo, His Majesty was in the town of Hutkaptah, doing what praised his father Amun-Re, Ptah Southern of his wall, lord of Ankhtauy, and all the gods, lords of the Beloved-Land” (Ramses I’s Buhen stela, see §2.2.2; Sethy I’s Nauri command, KRI I, 46, 5; without location indication Gebel el-Silsila command, 87, 13–16; etc.). jst ḥ m=f ḥ r ḥ ḥ zp ʿ¡ n ¡ḫ .w n jt=f jmn-rʿ ‘(Date) Lo, His Majesty was searching a great instance of usefuls actions for his father Amun-Re’ (Amenhotep III’s Soleb command, see above). wn-jn ḥ m=f ḥ r w¡w¡ sḥ ḥ nʿ jb=f [ḥ r] ḫ w(j).t t¡ nb r[d̠r=f] . . . jst ḥ m=f rsy r tr.wy ḥ r ḥ ḥ ¡ḫ .wt n t¡-mry ḥ r d̠ʿr zp.w ‘Then His Majesty was taking counsel with his own mind about protecting every country entirely . . . Lo His Majesty was watchful night and day, searching what might be useful to the Beloved-land, searching actions . . .’ (Horemheb command l. 9 and 11–12). [j]s[t̠](?) jb n ḥ m=f ḥ r ḫ rp=f ḥ r ḥ ḥ ¡ḫ .w(t) n jt=f jmn-rʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w mw.t wr(.t) nb.t jšrw ḫ nsw-m-w¡s.t-nfr-ḥ tp nt̠r.w nt̠ry.t nb.w šmʿ mḥ w ‘L[o( ?)] the desire of His Majesty’s was leading him to seek things useful to his father Amunresonther, Mut, the powerful one, lady of the Isheru, Khonsu-in-Thebes, whose peacefulness-is-perfect, all the gods and the goddesses of the Upper and Lower Egypt’ (Sethy II’s Karnak command, KRI IV, 264–66).

When the royal command is only letter, the formulation shows the king in a more mundane concern: wd̠ jr-n ḥ m=f m ʿ.wy=f d̠s=s tj sw m [wnm] swr>j jr hrw nfr ‘The command which His Majesty made with his own two hands when he was in the position of one who [eats], who drinks, who spends a happy day’ (Amenhotep II’s command to Usersatet; Urk. IV, 1343, 13; see §§3.3 and 7.7).

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Sometimes, in a monumental version of a royal command, the staging of the pharaoh involves his being informed about a particular issue through the jw.tw standard formulation.212 Two instances follow, involving adaptation of the formula in Late Period ‘égyptien de tradition’ style: jw-n.tw r d̠d n ḥ m=f ḥ w.t-nt̠r nt jt=k wsjr ḥ p ḫ .t jm w¡ r stp ‘If one came to His Majesty, it was to say: “The temple of your father Osiris-Apis, something there happened to be dismembered”’ (Psammetik I’s Serapeum command).213 jy-n.tw r d̠d n ḥ m=f d̠w št¡ n ¡bd̠w wḥ .tw jnr jm=f jmy.tw bjk.wy nty (ḥ r) ḫ w(j.t) d̠w pn št¡ n p¡.tw jr d̠r-b¡ḥ ‘If one came to His Majesty, it was to say: “The secret mountain of Abydos, stones are taken from it between the two Falcons who are protecting this secret mountain. Never this had been done formerly”’ (Nectanebo’s Abydos command).214

6.4.2.3 From the beginning of the Late Middle Kingdom, in some monumental versions of royal commands, the ideological apparatus implements the Königsnovelle form in a more elaborate way. For instance, in Khaneferre Sobekhotep’s Karnak command, the pharaoh expresses his love for his native town, Thebes, in front of his courtiers, this love justifying the works he commands to undertake in Amun’s temple. Before wording his command itself, Sethy I makes a speech to emphasize his continuous concern for his temple in Abydos. In the Amosis storm stela, the pharaoh gave an audience m-h̠nw pr-ʿ¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb ‘inside the great House, Life, Safety, Health’ (r°14–16), so that mention may be made of him in regard to the destruction that had occurred after the storm. Then he issued commands. Fictitious commands, such as the Hunger stela or the command to protect and safeguarding the temple of Amun of Taudjoy, make use of the Königsnovelle form (§§9.1.1-2).

  Spalinger, Aspects of the Military Documents, chapter 1.   Perdu, Recueil des inscriptions, 40–41. Jw.tw formulation occurs also in Piânkhi’s victory stela. 214   Burchardt, “Ein Erlass des Königs Necht-har-ehbet,” 54–58. 212 213



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Private Versions: Explicit and Implicit 7 Because they were allegedly expressions of the pharaoh’s will, and through him, of the god’s, the royal commands were invested with such prestige that the members of the elite often quoted them in their own monuments, provided that they were concerned to some extent. They sometimes gave them special personal space within their monuments. Most often, they integrated them into their autobiography or into the decoration of the open chapel of their tombs. The distinction that has been made between ‘explicit’ and ‘implicit’ versions of public monumental versions of royal commands (§5.1) obtains also in private monumental versions of royal commands. On one hand, private individuals may use the standard technical formulations wd̠-nsw or wd̠ ¡wy to refer to a royal command, sometimes displaying it in a layout mirroring its original apparatus. On the other hand, they may just indirectly allude to it, without quoting the act in itself, for instance: rdj-n=f s¡=f smsw=f N r ḥ q¡ jwʿ.t=f m mnʿ.t-ḫ wfw m ḥ s.t ʿ¡.t nt ḫ r nsw m wd̠.t pr.t r¡ n ḥ m=f ‘If he (= the king) has appointed his (= the official’s) eldest son N to rule his inheritance in Menat-Khufu, it was as a great favor from the king, and as a command (or: something which has been commanded) which came out the mouth of His Majesty . . .’ (Urk.VII, 28, 8–11).215

The phrase ‘as a command (or: something which has been commanded) which came out from the mouth of His Majesty’ probably refers to a royal command through which the pharaoh marked his favor towards a particularly efficient official in upholding what was only suggested by the primogeniture custom that influenced the transmission of a position. 7.1 Members of the elite sometimes have a commemoration of their appointment to a prestigious position recorded either in a particular

215   A.B. Lloyd, “The Great Inscription of Khnumhotpe II at Beni Hasan,” in Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths, ed. A.B. Lloyd (London, 1992), 21–36.

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scene of their tomb chapel (Nebamun see §4.3; Qenamun TT 93, see §3.2)216 or in their autobiography, quoting wd̠ nsw n ḥ q¡ ‘a royal command of the sovereign’.217 This holds even when the sovereign turns out to be a foreigner.218 7.2 It not infrequently happens that the officials quote a royal command which has been committed to them. A fine instance is afforded by Chety’s autobiography from Siut. He alludes to a royal command having been commissioned him to undertake works in a temple in the following highly sophisticated and elaborate manner: ḥ n-n=f t̠w dg=f n-m-ḫ t r sm¡wy ḥ w.t-nt̠r=f r t̠s.t jnb.w r nḥ ḥ s¡t̠.w nw sp tpy r md̠ q¡ḥ .w n jsw.t ḫ wj p.t nt jr p.t qd.t-n ptḥ m d̠bʿ.w=f snt̠.t-n d̠ḥ wty n wpw¡.wt nb s¡w.t m wd̠-nsw ḥ q¡ t¡.wy nsw bjty mry-k¡-rʿ jr.t mnw n wpw¡.wt nt̠r ʿ¡ b¡w ‘If he laid upon you, while having the future in prospect, the charge of renewing his temple, of raising the walls for eternity, the floor of the First Time being at the level of the depth of the ancient times, with the aim of preserving the sky of he-who-made-the-sky which Ptah had built with his fingers, which Thot had founded for Wepwawet, lord of Siut, it is in the form of a royal command of the sovereign of the Two Lands, the king of Upper and Lower Egypt Merykare: to make a monument to Wepwawet, whose power is great’ (Siut IV, 19–23).219

The royal command in which a member of the elite boasts to have been involved might charge upon him some commission pertaining to the administration of the country: wd̠-nsw n N jw wd̠-n ḥ m=j dj.t ḫ nt=k r t¡-wr ¡bd̠w r jr.t mnw n jt=j wsjr ḫ nty-jmnty.w

216   In general, cf. M. Trapani, “Le ‘scene di recompensa e/o d’investitura’ dei funzionari nelle tombe e sulle stelle del Nuovo Regno,” in Egyptological Studies for Claudio Barocas, ed. R. Pirelli (Istituto Universitario Orientale. Serie Egittologica I; Naples, 1999), 115–47. 217   J.P. Allen, “L’inscription historique de Khnumhotep à Dahschour,” BSFE 173 (2009): 18. 218   G. Posener, La Première Domination Perse en Égyte: Recueil d’inscriptions hiéroglyphiques (BdE 11; Cairo, 1936), 6 l. 12. 219   I am using a new reconstitution of the text made by Eric Doret, based on the photographs of Schiaparelli’s that he rediscovered.



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‘Royal command to N: “My Majesty has commanded to have you go southwards to Abydos in Taour to make monuments for my father Osiris-first-of-the-Westerners”’ (Ikhernofret, Berlin 1204).220

7.3 The numerous instances in which an official refers to a command of the king221 may be most often taken as allusions to a royal command. Reporting an expedition to mining sites in periphery regions frequently involved this kind of allusion:222 wd̠ ḥ m=f ḥ sy=f mry=f mḥ -jb n jb=f r jn.t n=f mrr(.t) jb=f nb(.t) (m) mfk(.t) ‘His Majesty has commanded his praised one, his beloved one, his trustworthy one . . . to fetch for him all that his heart desired consisting of turquoise’ (Sinaï).223

7.4 Besides his job, any official might be also involved in a royal command because this command was issued to give him some advantage. For instance, an autobiography, carved on a stela erected in Abydos, reads: wd̠-nsw n N smn j¡w.wt=k nb.t ḥ z.wt nb.t jr n=k ‘Royal command for N in order to establish all your offices, all the favors that have been made to you’ (vizier Mentuhotep; CGC 20539 II b 2).

A royal command may state not a particular reward, but the mere fact that the king will reward the beneficiary of the present royal command. In his autobiography, Sabni is proud to mention a royal command issued to him in order to praise him for having fetched the body of his father, who had died abroad:

220   Simpson, The Terrace of the Great God, pl. 1; R. Anthes, “Die Berichte des Neferhotep und des Ichernofret über das Osirisfest in Abydos,” in Festschrift zum 150 jährigen Bestehen des Berliner ägyptischen Museums (Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Mitteilungen aus der ägyptischen Sammlung Band VIII; Berlin, 1974), 15–49; compare with the same kind of command from a public monumental version of Hatshepsut’s command: Urk IV, 354, 15–17. 221   Blumenthal, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Königtum, 398–400. 222   E.-S. Mahfouz, “Amenmhat III au Ouadi Gaouasis,” BIFAO 108 (2008): 257. 223   G.D. Scott, Ancient Egyptian Art at Yale (New Haven, 1986), 126–27.

312

pascal vernus d̠d r wd̠ pn jw(=j) r jr.t n=k ḫ .t nb(.t) jqr m jsw sm pn ʿ¡ [nfr] jr-n=k n jn.t jt=k ‘It was said according to this command: “I (= Pharaoh) shall make for you everything excellent in retribution for this great and perfect care you have taken of fetching your father”’ (Qubbet el-Hawa 26, col. 11).224

A royal command is considered deserving of being quoted in a tomb of an official since it commanded that a copy of a king’s particularly honorific statement be recorded on a stone and then be put in this tomb: wd̠ ḥ m=f wd.t m zš ḥ r js=f nt( y) m h̠r.t-nt̠r rdj ḥ m=f jr.t a jm zš r-gs nsw d̠[s=f] ḥ r jnr n pr-ʿ¡ r zš ḫ ft d̠[dd.t] m js=f nt( y) m h̠r.t-nt̠r ‘His Majesty commanded to put into writing on his (= Rêwer’s) tomb which is in the necropolis. His Majesty caused a document to be made there, written beside the king in person, on a stone of the Great House, intended to be a writing in accordance to what had been said, in his tomb which is in the necropolis’ (Rewer inscription).225

7.5 Mention of the royal command can be inscribed on the very object that had been given by this royal command. On a bow, a short inscription states: wd̠-nsw rʿ-ḥ tp n s¡ nsw jmny jmy dj.tw t¡ pd̠.t n . . . ‘King Rehotep commands to the royal son Imeny: may this bow be given to . . .’.226

A similar, though not identical case, is afforded by an inscription on a statue, quoting the royal command that institutes the right for this statue to share in the divine-offering: wd̠ ḥ m=f ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb w¡ḥ ḥ tp-nt̠r n twt pn m t¡ ḥ w.t-nt̠r nw ḥ w.t-ḥ r ḥ ry-jb w¡s.t m p¡ ḫ r ḫ nw ḥ tp-nt̠r m t¡ ḥ w.t wsr-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ-stp-n-rʿ nty ḥ r jmnt.t w¡s.t

224   Urk. I, 138; K.-J. Seyfried, “Qubbet el-Hawa Stand und Perspektiven der Bearbeitung,” in Texte und Denkmäler des ägyptischen Alten Reiches (Thesaurus Linguae Agyptiae 3), ed. S.J. Seidlmayer (Berlin, 2005), 314. 225   Allen, “Rē-wer Accident,” passim. 226   B. Schmitz, “Bemerkungen zu einigen königlichen Geschenken,” SAK 5 (1977): 216–18. Interestingly enough, the frozen wd̠-nsw has been broken so as to name the

king:

y√Ê [j–Ò ®÷ I –µ –]6lV.



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‘His Majesty, Life, Safety, Health’s command to institute a divine-offering to the present statue in the temple of Hathor who is dwelling in Thebes in the necropolis chapel, a divine-offering from the Mansion of Usermamaatre-Setepenre which is on the West of Thebes’ (Ramose statue Caire JdE 72000).227

7.6 During his life, an official might be granted by a royal command, ordering that monuments in his honor should be erected inside a temple, a mark of praise that deserves to be pointed out in his autobiography: wd̠-nsw n N jw wd̠-n nsw rdj.t jr.t(w) n=k mʿḥ ʿ.t r rd n nt̠r ʿ¡ nb ¡bd̠w ‘Royal command to N. The King has commanded to cause that a cenotaph should be made for you near the stair of the great god, lord of Abydos’ (CGC 20539, I, l. 2).228 jst̠ wd-n ḥ m=f rdj.t šms.tw nn.w r r¡-pr.w Smn m ao.w wab.t m h̠r.t nt rʿ nb ‘Lo His Majesty has commanded to cause the statues to be presented to the temples, regularly-provided with loaves and meat daily’ (Qenamun’s autobiography, Urk. IV, 1398, 7–8). wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t twt nw d̠.t=j m ḥ w.wt-nt̠r nb.w ‘His Majesty has commanded (or His Majesty’s command:) to place statues of my body in all the temples’ (Psametik II’s command for Ḥ r-jr-ʿ¡).229

A funerary service might be furnished by the state according to a royal command, a mark of favor which the beneficiary boasted of having received in his autobiography: jn-n=f wd̠ r nd̠ ḥ ¡tj-ʿ N pn ‘He brought a command pertaining to the care of this governor N’ (Qubbet el-Hawa 26, col. 8–9).230

227   KRI II, 363, 2–3; W. Hovestreydt, “A Letter to the King Relating to the Foundation of a Statue (P. Turin 1879 vso),” LinAeg 5 (1997), 117–18. 228   Cl. Obsomer, Sésostris Ier. Étude chronologique et historique du règne (Connaissance de l’Égypte ancienne Étude n° 5; Brussels, 1995), 520–31; cf. Urk. IV, 45; A.M. Gnirs, Zum Verhältnis von Literatur und Geschichte in der 18. Dynastie (Aegyptiaca Helvetica; Bassel, 2010), 23–96. 229   Jansen-Winkeln, “Die Stiftung von Privatstatuen mit Königsnamen in der 26. Dynastie,” 58. 230   Urk. I 138; K.-J. Seyfried, in Texte und Denkmäler, 314.

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7.7 Sometimes, in the Old Kingdom, a private individual recorded the royal command according to which he was given some monumental elements such as false-door, a commemorative slab (Urk I, 38, 11–12),231 or according to which the building of the tomb itself had been granted (dbḥ nj inscription).232 Moreover, the royal command could inspire the wall decoration of the tomb-chapel. It could be the center of a scene commemorating its reception by the beneficiary: so, the royal command appointing Nebamun (see above). It could be reproduced in its original layout, in a salient position.233 It might sometimes shape the autobiography as a whole.234 A personal letter of the king, labeled as royal command, was felt to be such an honor that sometimes his recipient decided to have it carved into the wall of his tomb.235 As for the viceroy of Kush Usersatet, he erected in Semna fort a stela especially devoted to display: mjty n wd̠ jr-n ḥ m=f m ʿ.wy=f d̠s=s ‘A copy of the command which His Majesty made with his own two hands’ (Boston MFA 25.632).236

  Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 73.   N. Kloth, Die (auto)-biographischen Inschriften des ägyptischen Alten Reiches Untersuchungen zu Phraseologie und Entwicklung (SAK Beihefte 8; Hamburg, 2002), 184–87 and 241; M. Müller, “Falsche Masse? Oder falsches Grab?” GM 209 (2006): 59–62. 233   Kloth, Die (auto)-biographischen Inschriften, 242 n. 72; J. Stauder, “Les autobiographies événémentielles de la Ve dynastie: Premier ensemble de textes continus en Égypte,” in Abusir and Saqqara in the Year 2010—Proceedings of the Conference Held in Prague May 31–June 4, ed. M. Bárta (Prague, 2011), §2.1.1 and §3.2.2; J.C. Moreno García, “La gestion sociale de la mémoire dans l’Égypte du IIIe millénaire: Les tombes des particuliers, entre emploi privé et idéologie publique,” in Dekorierte Grabanlagen im Alten Reich: Methodik und Interpretation (IBAES VI), ed. M. Fitzenreiter and M. Herb (London, 2006), 226. 234   J. Richards, “Kingship and legitimation,” in Egyptian Archaeology (Blackwell Studies in Global Archaeology), ed. W. Wendrich (Oxford, 2010), 69; see more generally Richards, “Text and Context in Late Old Kingdom Egypt: The Archaelogy and Historiography of Weni the Elder,” JARCE 39 (2002): 75–102. 235   Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 17; Eichler, “Untersuchungen zu den Königsbriefen des Alten Reiches,” 141–66. 236   Urk IV, 1343–44; Der Manuelian, Studies in the Reign of Amenophis II, 155–58; Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 27–28 [n° 16]; Morschauser, “Approbation or Disapproval?” 203–22; Beylage, Aufbau der königliche Stelentexte, 747. Wd̠ ‘command’ is 231 232

erroneously written

‡lq as wd̠, ‘stela’.

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Above the text of the letter, a lunette shows Usersatet offering to the king. This layout shows how a royal command could be inserted into an ideological apparatus. Topic Dealt within Royal Command 8 Since the power of the pharaoh was universal, theoretically, the royal commands which are expressions of his authoritative capacity could deal with any aspect of Egyptian society. Hence, the topics dealt with in the royal commands are incredibly various. They encompass truly authoritative measures, involving enforcement of different kinds of power, prohibition, punishment, assignment of task, assignment of office, bestowal of goods,237 as well as mere expressions of his feelings (§1.1). They could have a very restricted concern pertaining to one individual as well as a wide application on ‘the entire land’. For instance, Horemheb forbade the requisition of hides that the troops used to do in the South as well as in the North, ḫ t t¡ r-d̠r=f ‘throughout the entire land’ (Horemheb’s command, line 23–27); Tutankhamuns’ command addressed all the institutions and persons liable to pay taxes—and all the temples of Egypt (Tutankhamun’s command to Maya, see §8.1). This is easily understandable when one is aware of their ideological background (see §2). An overview of the main type of topics is presented.238 One should be aware that it is certainly somewhat biased, as are the available data. Stone monumental versions of royal commands erected in temples are more likely to have escaped the damages of time, so that they had a better chance to survive and thus be overestimated. For instance, it seems obvious that the consequent number of measures taken for maintaining the independance of the people working for a temple has led some scholars to misinterpret the true nature of royal commands (cf. §8.8.4).

  Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 76.   For another attempt of topic listing, see Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 63–76 for the Old Kingdom, and Trapani in Egyptological Studies for to Claudio Barocas, 538. 237 238

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Making an Official Responsible for a Particular Task 8.1 The wording of a royal command often involves listing the officials concerned with its implementation (§§4.2 and 4.3). This should be distinguished from a command issued to give a specific commitment to an official. It could be expressed either in the form of a letter using the jn(-n.)tw n=k wd̠ pn formulation or through the expression rdj m ḥ r n N ‘laying charge upon N’, most often followed by a dependent clause headed by r ‘to’. In the following instance, the distinction between the command itself and the command to achieve it is sharp: wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t mn n¡-n ¡ḥ .t (m) fḳ¡w n N1 . . . rdj.tw m-ḥ r n ḥ ry šmsw N2 r swd̠ se ‘One was in Memphis. His Majesty’s command to establish these fields as a reward to N1. . . . Charge was laid upon the chief of followers N2 to hand it over’ (Ay’s Giza command).239

Frequently, however, the command pertains directly to the official:240 hrw pn wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t [m-ḥ r n]241 t̠¡y sry.t ḥ r wnm n nsw zš nsw mr pr-ḥ d̠ my r ḥ tr t¡ r-d̠r=f w¡ḥ ḥ tp-nt̠r n nt̠r.w nb.w t¡ mry š¡ʿ-m ¡bw nfry.t-r sm¡-bḥ d.t ‘On this day, His Majesty’s command: Laying charge upon the fan bearer on the right hand of the king, the royal scribe, overseer of the WhiteHouse May to assess taxes throughout the entire land and to establish the divine offerings of all the gods of the Beloved-Land, starting from Elephantine up to Smabehdet’ (Tutankhamun’s command to Maya).242 ʿḥ ʿ-n wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t m-ḥ r n ḫ rp k¡.t n k¡w.tyw-nsw ḥ nʿ=f m h̠rty.w-nt̠r ‘Therefore, His Majesty commanded to lay charge upon the controller of the royal workmen who were with him as stonemasons’ (Sethy I Kanais inscription B 9–10; KRI I, 67, 1–2).

  Caire JdE 28019 = Zivie, Giza au deuxième millénaire, 177–82.   Compare, without mention of wd̠ and in damaged context; W. Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie. Nachträge (KÄT 6.2; Wiesbaden, 1995), 64, l. 6. 241   The reconstruction given by Amer is wrong. My own reconstruction relies on the parallels I present in this work. 242   A.A.M.A. Amer, Tutankhamun’s Decree for the Treasurer Maya,” 17–20; Amer, “A Further Note on Maya,” Or 55 (1986): 171–73; Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 27; Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte: Nachträge, 69. 239 240



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wd̠ ḥ m-f dj(.t) m-ḥ r n wr ḫ rp ḥ m.t s¡ smsw ḫ ʿ-m-w¡s.t [r] smn rn n nsw bjty N ‘His Majesty’s command: laying charge upon the great superviser of crafts, elder son Khaemwese, [to] perpetuate the name of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt’ (Ramses II’s royal command for ancient monuments).243 wd̠ ḥ m-f rdj.t m-ḥ r n mr njw.t t̠¡.t t¡ r sjp ‘His Majesty’s command: laying charge upon the mayor Vizier to to take an inventory’ (Ramses III’s Temple of Maat command; KRI V, 231, 3).244 wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t m-ḥ r n jt nt̠r n jmn-rʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w . . . mr k¡.t (m) mnw nb t¡.wy ḥ r-m-s¡=f m¡ʿ ḫ rw r ḫ rp245 k¡.t nb.t ‘His Majesty commanded to lay charge upon the god’s father of Amunresonther . . . overseer of works (in) all the monuments of the Lord of the Two Lands, Horemsaf, justified to undertake every work . . .” (Sheshanq I’s Gebel el-Silsila command).246 zp tpy n ḥ m=f rdj.t m-ḥ r n . . . r thm k¡.t ‘The first occasion on which His Majesty laid charge upon . . . to carry out the work’ (Gebel Silsila).247 wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t m-ḥ r n jt-nt̠r . . . N . . . r jr.t sjp.t ‘His Majesty commanded to lay charge upon the divine father . . . N to make an inventory’ (Turin inventary tablet).248

Royal commands to endow an official with authority to carry out a particular commission which involved the king’s delegating a part of his power, such as undertaking works in temples, or leading foreign expeditions, are formulated in a more solemn way:

243   F. Gomaa, Chaemwese Sohn Ramses II und Hoherpriester von Memphis (ÄA 27; Wiesbaden, 1973), 101–6; KRI II, 874, 1. 244   Other instances in David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 205–7. 245   I am not convinced by the reading ḫ w( j.t) mk(.t) of R. A. Caminos, “Gebel EsSilsilah no. 100,” JEA 38 (1952): 43. Indeed, the collocation is well attested in the royal commands (see §8.8.4.2.4). However, it sounds irrelevant in this context. 246   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 22 l. 39–45. 247   Urk. IV 1962; Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 29; Laboury, Akhénaton, 99. 248   Ricke, “Eine Inventartafel aus Heliopolis im Turiner Museum,” 111–33; David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 215.

318

pascal vernus jst̠ wd̠-n-tw m ḥ m n stp-s¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb n . . . mr ḫ tm.t N r sb.t mšʿ r pwn.t ‘Lo, it was commanded as a manifestation/desire of the One acting-asprotector (= the Ruler-at-work), Life, Safety, Health, to the . . . overseer of sealed things N to conduct an expedition to Punt’ (Hatshepsut’s command Urk IV, 354, 15–17; cf. Thutmosis I’s Abydos stela, Urk. IV, 97, 2; and compare with a private allusion, Ikhernofret [§7.2]).

Giving Advantage to an Official 8.2 Officials were often given advantages of different kinds by means of a royal command. They are alluded to in their monuments (see §§7.4–7.7). But, sometimes we have a public monumental version of the royal command that stipulates these advantages (Coptos K).249 Office Appointment or Discharge 8.3 Beyond the custom of hereditary transmission by male primogeniture, appointment to an office ultimately depended on the pharaoh’s will expressed through a royal command. We have allusion both in particular monuments (§7.1) and in pubic monumental versions (Coptos M, N, O, Q). Needleess to say, just as a royal command was used to make an appointment, it could also be used to discharge from an office an official whose behavior made him unworthy of it: a good instance is afforded by the famous command issued by a king Antef of the XVIIth Dynasty.250 Donation of Land 8.4 As the paramount owner of Egyptian territory, the pharaoh was theoretically involved in any change in the status of land. Hence, the

  Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 209, fig. 27.   For bibliography see Ch. Barbotin, Ahmosis et le début de la XVIIIe dynastie (Les grands pharaons; Paris, 2008), 163. 249 250

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categorization of the donation of land (ḥ nkw) as a royal command; e.g., donation for divine temples (Thutmosis IV’s Medamud command;251 Apries’s Memphis command); donation for institutions depending on a temple, for instance, the pastures of the black cows of Mnevis;252 donations for pharaoh’s statues;253 donations of land as a reward (Ay’s Giza command see §8.1). The donation deed, although being copiously documented and dealt with in scholarly literature, remains far from being well understood.254 Works in Nature 8.5 Royal command to excavate a channel: wd̠ ḥ m=f šʿd mr pn m-ḫ t gm.t=f sw d̠b¡.w m jnr.w ‘His Majesty’s command: excavating this channel after having found it obstructed with boulders” (Thutmosis I and Thutmosis III’s Sehel channel commands [see §2.2.2]).

Re-opening a quarry: wd̠ ḥ m=f wn ḥ wt.t m m¡w.t ‘His Majesty’s command: reopening the quarry’ (Amenhotep III’s Tura stelae).255

Forbidding use of a mountain as a quarry: wd̠-n ḥ m=f r tm rdj.t šʿd.tw jnr nb m d̠w pn št¡ nty jw rn=s r ḥ ¡p-nb=s ‘Majesty has commanded not to extract any stone from this secret mountain the name of which shall be ‘The-one-which conceals its lord”’ (Nectanebo’s Abydos command).256

  Bigler and Geiger, “Eine Schenkungsstele Thutmosis’ IV,” 11–17.   Radwan, “Zwei Stelen aus dem 47. Jahre Thutmosis III,” 406, fig. 2. 253   Kessler, “Eine Landschenkung Ramses III,” 103–34; Helck, SAK 4 (1976): 115– 24; Chappaz, “Une stèle de donation de Ramsès III,” 5–19. 254   D. Meeks, in State and Economy, II, 608–57, completed by Meeks, “Une stèle de donation de la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire,” 138–54; H. De Meulenaere, “Quelques remarques sur les stèles de donation saïtes,” RdÉ 44 (1993): 11–18; Chappaz, “Une stèle de donation de Ramsès III,” 5–19. See also Menu, Recherches sur l’histoire juridique II, 135–39, which, however, is not wholly reliable. 255   Urk. IV 1680, 6, 1–14 and 15; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 358–60, 361–65; Beylage, Aufbau der königlichen Stelentexte, 753. 256   Burchardt, “Ein Erlass des Königs Necht-har-ehbet,” 55–58. 251 252

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8.6 Royal commands were devoted to promote the prestige of the pharaoh. A particular command was issued to make known the titulary of the new king (Thutmosis I’s Semna and Kuban command, see §5.2.1). Giving a pharaoh’s record a monumental surface is also the topic of a command: wd̠ nsw n . . . mr ḫ tm.t N jmy jr.tw jr.t-n nb.t ḥ m=j m nḫ t ḥ r wd̠ ‘Royal command to the . . . overseer of the sealed things N.: “Let all that My Majesty has done victoriously be made on a stela”’ (Kamose’s second stela l. 36).257 wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t smn.tw nḫ t.w rdj-n n=f jt=f [jmn] ḥ r s¡.t jnr m ḥ w.t-nt̠r ‘His Majesty’s command to cause that the victories that his father [Amun] had given to him should be fixed on a stone wall in the temple’ (Urk. IV, 684, 9–10).258 wd̠ ḥ m=f jr.t ʿḥ ʿ ʿ¡ m jnr n m¡t̠ ḥ r rn.w n jt.w=f ‘His Majesty’s command: making a great stela of granite stone in the name of his fathers’ (Ramses II’s year 400 stela, KRI II, 287).

Compare with ʿḥ ʿ-n rdj-n ḥ m=f jr.tw wd̠ pn ‘then His Majesty caused this stela to be made’ (Urk. IV, 1296, 7–8). 8.7 Commanding an army to run a race in the desert (Taharqa’s Dahshur Stela).259 Royal Command Pertaining to an Institution 8.8 With regard to a large part of the available data, the royal commands pertain to the religious institutions and, particularly, to the temples.260 257   For parallels, cf. P. Vernus, “La stèle du pharaon Mnt̠w-ḥ tpj à Karnak: Un nouveau témoignage sur la situation politique et militaire au début de la D.P.I.,” RdÉ 40 (1989): 152–53. 258   See also jst wd̠-n ḥ m=f smn.t nḫ tw jr-n=f . . . ‘Lo, His Majesty has commanded to fix the victories he had done . . .’ (Urk. IV, 734, 13–14). 259   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit III, 59–61 [n° 12]. 260   Martin-Pardey, “Tempeldekrete,” 379–86. I am not fully convinced that we can recognize a specific self-sufficient category encompassing ‘temple commands’.

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8.8.1 By royal command inspections of temples were ordered: swʿb ‘cleansing’, sw¡d̠ ‘refreshing’;261 jr.t jpw ‘taking inventory’,262 jr.t sjpty ‘taking inventory’,263 sometimes on a larger scale sjpty wr ‘taking a great inventory’.264 For instance: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f r swʿb r¡.w-pr.w ‘My Majesty has made a command pertaining to cleansing the sanctuaries’ (KRI V, 233, 7–8 and 15–16; also Thutmosis III’s stela from Heliopolis [quoted in §8.8.2]). wd̠-n ḥ m=f jr.t sjpty ‘His Majesty has commanded to take inventory’ (KRI V, 232, 7–8). wd̠.t ḥ m-f ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb jr.t jpw n n¡ n ¡ḥ .t ‘His Majesty, Life, Safety, Health’s command: taking an inventory of the fields’ (Sethy I’s boundary stelae, Fayum and Brooklyn 69.116.1; KRI I, 45, 5 and 231, 16).

8.8.2 By royal command building works were ordered: wd̠ ḥ m=j ḳd ḥ w.t-nt̠r nt pth rsy-nb=f m w¡s.t ntt m w¡ḥ y.t nt jt=j jmn nb ns.wt t¡.wy . . . wd̠ ḥ m=j pd̠ šs . . . ‘My Majesty’s command: building the temple of Ptah-south-of-hiswall-in-Thebes, which is in the foundation of my father Amun, lord of The-throne-of-the-two lands . . . My Majesty’s command: stretching the rope again (concerning this temple . . .)’ (Thutmosis III’s stela in Ptah temple).265

Often theses works were mainly restorations: ʿḥ ʿ-n wd̠-n=ḥ m=f srwd̠ r¡.w-pr.w nty.w w¡.w r w¡sj m t¡ pn r-d̠r=f smnḫ mnw n nt̠r.w t̠z.t jnb.w=sn . . .

  Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire,” 23–24 [o].   Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 21–28. 263   Redford, Pharaonic King-Lists, 92–94. 264   Grandet, Papyrus Harris I, 95–101. 265   CGC34013; Urk. IV 763, 12–772, 7 [765, 7; 765, 14; 767, 15; 76, 4]; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 137–46. 261 262

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pascal vernus ‘Then His Majesty commanded to restore the sanctuaries which have fallen into decay in this entire land, to embellish the monuments of the gods, to set up their walls . . .’ (Amosis Storm Stela r° 18–19).266

Encircling a temple with walls: wd̠ ḥ m=f ph̠r r¡-pr pn m sbty n wmt.t m k¡.t rwd̠.t n jt=f rʿ-ḥ r-¡ḫ ty m ¡w d̠.t ḫ ft swʿb jwnw pr-rʿ ‘His Majesty’s command: surrounding this temple with a thick wall in strong work for his father, Râhorakhty, as long as eternity after cleansing The-house-of-Re-in-Heliopolis’ (Thutmosis III’s stela from Heliopolis).267

Providing a temple with monuments: renewing a door (Khaneferre Sobekhotep’s Karnak command, l. 10); erecting obelisks (Sethy I’s Assuan command, KRI I, 74). Providing with cultural material: carving or melting a divine statue; sending a divine statue abroad; making boats: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f ms.t p¡ zšm n . . . ‘His Majestey commanded to make the statue of . . .’ (Saï).268 wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t wd̠¡ ḫ nsw-p¡-jr-sḫ r-m-w¡s.t r wj¡ ʿ¡ ‘His Majesty has commanded to have Khonsu-who-makes-decision-inThebes proceed to the great boat’ (Bakhtan stela l. 61). jw grt wd̠-n ḥ m=f jr.t mnw n jt=f jmn-rʿ . . . ‘Moreover, his Majesty commanded to make a boat for his father AmunRe’ (Amosis’ command).269 wd̠ ḥ m=f rdj.t jry.tw n¡ n ḥ bs.w n t¡ h̠n.t n nn n nt̠rw jmy.w ¡bw m ḥ bs.w ʿ¡.w wʿ nb n mḥ 10. jw wn=sn m ḥ bs.w nd̠s.w wʿ nb n mḥ 3 ‘His Majestey’s command: causing the banners of the rowing of these gods who are in Elephantine to be made as great banners, each one of 10 cubits, while there were as small banners each one of 3 cubits’ (Amenhotep II’s Elephantine command adjunct Urk. IV 1299, 3; see §5.2.1).

  Bibliography in Barbotin, Ahmosis, 215–20.   Urk. IV 832; Radwan, “Zwei Stelen aus dem 47. Jahre Thutmosis III,” 404; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 106–9; Ph. Collombert, “Les stèles d’enceinte de Thoutmosis III à Héliopolis,” BSÉG 28 (2008–2010): 10. 268   Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte, 133 [n° 240]; Klug, Königliche Stelen, 191. 269   Urk. IV 22, 1–23, 10; Barbotin, Ahmosis, 210–14. 266 267

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Establishing, Restoring or Increasing the Offering 8.8.3 One of the major standard duties of the pharaoh was to ensure the performing of rites, since it was through the rites that the gods were thought to be able to renew the energy they needed to carry on with creation. Hence, the pharaoh’s care for ‘provision in the altars’ (sd̠f¡ ḫ ¡.wt, Urk. IV 767, 15) of the gods, more generally his care for the divine-offering (ḥ tp-nt̠r), that is to say the revenues necessary for the functioning of the temple. Indeed, many royal commands aim at this purpose.270 Sometimes a royal command has a very large scope, all the temple revenues being provided by assessing taxes to the whole country: hrw pn wd̠ ḥ m=f . . . r ḥ tr t¡ r-d̠r=f w¡ḥ ḥ tp-nt̠r n nt̠r.w nb.w t¡ mry š¡ʿ-m ¡bw nfry.t-r sm¡-bḥ d.t ‘On this day, His Majesty’s command . . . to assess taxes271 thoughout the entire land and to establish the divine-offerings of all the gods of the Beloved-Land, starting from Elephantine up to Smabehedet’ (Tutankhamun’s command to Maya, see §8.1).

8.8.3.1 In the case of Nectanebo I’s command (see §5.2.1), the taxes were restricted to imported goods, and they were levied in favor of the temple of Neith. In the Third Intermediate Period, the ox of the daily offering of the temple of Arsaphes, lord of Heracleopolis, was provided by establishing taxations upon people and institutions of the region of Heracleopolis (Sheshanq I’s command for Arsaphes’ temple in Heracleopolis).272 A royal command might delineate particular arrangements to provide the offering of a rather restricted cult—for instance, the funerary cult of king Mentuhotep Nebheptetre—with the offering of a larger one—for instance, the Temple of Amun.273 Donation

  Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 23.   This royal command, not taken into account by D. Warburton, State and Economy in Ancient Egypt: Fiscal Vocabulary of the New Kingdom (OBO 151; Fribourg, 1997), 263–77, fits with the interpretation of ḥ tr put forward by him. 272   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 4–7 [n° 15]; Meffre, “Un nouveau nom d’Horus d’or de Sheshonq Ier sur le bloc Caire JE 39410,” 221–33. 273   Cairo JdE 38655; Vernus, “Égyptien,” 82–83. 270 271

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stelae often commemorate arrangements that involve the divine-offering of a temple. The numerous royal commands dealing with this kind of topic use the expressions jr.t ḥ tp-nt̠r ‘make the divine-offering’,274 or w¡ḥ ḥ tpnt̠r ‘institute the divine-offering’,275 most often with m-m¡w.t ‘anew’, implying that the royal command restored a previous situation. The command could bear more particularly on the ‘great-offering’,276 on the wine (Urk. IV, 748, 17), on castor-oil,277 etc. It might pertain to adding something more to the previous offering of a festival,278 to renewing its ritual,279 and to increasing the length of the festival itself: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f w¡ḥ hrw wʿ n mw.t=f ʿnq.t ḥ r ḥ b=s n st.t m h̠n.t=s n tpjtrw . . . m-ḥ ¡w-ḥ r p¡ hrw 3 n ḥ b=s mtr>y r rdj.t ḫ pr ḥ b=s n tp-šmw m hrw 4 r mn r w¡ḥ ‘His Majesty has commanded to add one day for his mother concerning her festival of Nubian Anukis in her river navigation (. . .) in addition to the three days of her usual festival, so as to cause her festival of the first of Summer to become of four days long, bound to be established and to endure” (Amenhotep II’s Elephantine command adjunct, Urk. IV 1299, 7–11; see §5.2.1).

Protection of an Institution 8.8.4 A large number of the available royal commands were designed to protect temples and other institutions from any kind of impressment, under two main headings:

274   Thutmosis III’ royal commands for Amun, l. 36: Urk. IV, 170, 17 and 171, 11–12; Hoffmann, Die Königsnovelle, 305; Caminos, Semna-Kumna I, pl. 24–26. 275   Amenhotep IV’s Karnak command: W. Helck, “Zur Opferliste Amenophis IV (JEA 57, 70 ff.),” JEA 59 (1973): 95; Ramses III’s commands: KRI V, 119, 11–12, and KRI V, 235, 7 and 11). 276   ʿ¡b.t: Sebekhotep Khaneferre Sebekhotep’s Karnak command, l. 12–13; Thutmose III’s Ptah temple command: Urk. IV 776, 4; Sethy I’s Abydos command, KRI I, 89, 13–90, 4. 277   Osorkon Chronicle: Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spätzeit II, 167 col. 40–41, 51–52. 278   Thutmose III’s Buto command l. 6 = S. Bedier, “Ein Stiftungsdekret Thutmosis’ III aus Buto,” in Aspekte Spätägyptische Kultur: Festschrift für Erich Winter zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. M. Minas and J. Zeidler (Mainz am Rhein, 1994), 35–50. 279   Sethy I’command: KRI I, 231, 10–11.

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•  Material request (§8.8.4.1) •  Personnel labor request (§8.8.4.2) This has led some scholars to conclude wrongly that exempting was inherent to ‘royal command’, which is somewhat inaccurate. Protection Against Material Request 8.8.4.1 Many royal commands were issued to protect institutions and temples from material requests, as others were issued to protect a whole category of people (§1.1). Among the wide range of material requests were taxes. For instance, the funerary chapel of the king’s mother, I put, was exempted from paying particular taxes (Coptos A).280 The possessions of the institution were under the threat of being unduly requested by officials of the central administration. As an illustration, here are two extracts of royal commands issued to protect boats and cattle, respectively: r tm rdj.t jt̠¡.tw jm.w=sn m nḥ m r jr.t wp.t nb n pr-ʿ¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb ‘to prevent their boats from being seized in seizure to carry on any mission of Pharaoh, Life, Safety, Health’ (Ramses III’s Elephantine command).281 mjt.t jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t ḥ ny.tw t¡ mnmn.t jḥ t¡ mnmn.t ʿnḫ .w t(¡) mnmmn.t ʿ¡.w t¡ mnmn.t š¡.w t¡ mnmn.t ¡pdw t¡ mnmn.t ʿw.t n t¡ ḥ w.t mn-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bd̠w ḥ r mw ḥ r t¡ r tm rdj.t th.tw r tp-n-ʿw.t nb jm=sn r tm dj.t th.tw r mnjw=sn r tm dj.t jt̠¡.tw jḥ .w ʿ¡ š¡w ʿnḫ tp-n-ʿw.t nb jm=sn m nḥ m m wstn r tm rdj.t jt̠¡ mr ḥ sb jḥ .w nb mr mnjw nb mnjw nb n t¡ ḥ w.t-mn-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bd̠w jḥ ʿ¡ š¡w ʿnḫ nb n t¡ ḥ w.t-mnm¡ʿ.t-rʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bd̠w r [dj.t m šb] n ky r-pw dj.t m¡ʿ=f n ky nt̠r jw bn m¡ʿ=f n wsjr ʿn p¡( y)=sn nb m t¡( y)=f ḥ w.t šps jr-n ḥ m=f ‘Likewise his Majesty has ordered to be organized the herd of cattle, the herd of goats, the herd of donkeys, the herds of pigs, the herd of fowl, the herd of animals of the Mansion-of-Menmaatre-happy-in-Abydos, on water and on land, to prevent abuses being done against any beast among them, to prevent abuses being done against their herdsmen, to prevent ox, donkey, pig, goat, any beast among them from being taken   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 43, fig. 4.   KRI V, 343, 15; Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 22, 25–26; David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 141–42. 280 281

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pascal vernus away by seizure, as one pleases, to prevent any overseer of cattle counting, any overseer of herdsmen, any herdsman of the Mansion-of-Menmaatre-happy-in-Abydos from taking away an ox, a donkey, a pig, a goat of the Mansion-of-Menmaatre-happy-in-Abydos, so as to sell it or so as to have it presented to another deity, without letting it any more to be presented to Osiris,282 their master in his august temple, which his Majesty has made” (Sethy I’s Nauri command: KRI I 54, 15–55, 1–2, see also 51, 11, 12).

People of an institution often happened to undergo material requests— in addition to demands for labor—probably a sensitive topic, since it is not infrequently dealt with in royal commands: . . . ḫ w(j) n¡ jry.w-ʿ n pr-jmn n¡ nfw (n) wj¡ (n) pr-jmn mjt.t r tm [dj.t] dj=sn snw n wd ḥ r n¡y=sn ʿḥ ʿ ḥ r-tp jtrw ḥ r mry.t nb(.t) n njw.t nb(.t) ‘. . . protect283 the door-keepers [of] Amun’s [estate] and likewise the sailors of the sacred bark of Amun’s estate, lest they should pay sailingduties on account of their ships upon the river at any harbor of any city’ (Osorkon Chronicle col. 52).284

A royal command issued by Sethy II aims at protecting low ranking priests from being extorted by high rank priests: r rdj.t ḥ n.tw t¡ f¡y.t n jmn mw.t [ḫ nsw-m-w¡s.t-nfr-ḥ tp nt̠r.w nt̠]r.wt nb.w [šmʿw mḥ w jt.w-nt̠r] wʿb.w h̠ry.w-ḥ b r tm dj wḫ ¡.tw [n]kt m-dj=sn jn ḥ m-nt̠r nb ḫ pr m r[k ḥ m=f] ‘so as to cause the carriers-corporation of Amun, Mut and Khonsu-inThebes-Neferhotep, of all the gods and go]ddesses [of Upper and Lower Egypt, god’s fathers], pure-priests and lector-priests to be organized285 in order to prevent a [bak]chich being requested from them by any prophet who will exist in the t[ime of his Majesty]’ (Sethy II’s Karnak command).286

282   For jw bn mʿ¡=f in this context, see S. Polis, “Le serment du P. Turin 1880, v° 2, 8–19: Une relecture de la construction ἰw bn sd̠m.f à portée historique,” in Ramesside Studies in Honour of K. A. Kitchen, ed. M. Collier and S. Snape (Bolton, 2011), 397. 283   Caminos, Chronicle of Prince Osorkon, 70 [b], seems to postulate the expression ḫ w( j) mk( j), which is indeed used elsewhere in the same inscription. Now, is there enough room for mk( j)? An instance of the older ḫ w(j) instead of ḫ w(j) mk(j) is quoted §8.8.4.2.4. 284   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften des Spatzeit II, 165. 285   Kitchen’s reconstruction [hrw pn ἰw wd̠.n.ḥ m] does not seem very plausible, since hrw pn is not expected to precede jw wd̠-n=ḥ m. 286   KRI IV, 264–66; David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 136.

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Somewhat ironically, another royal command aimed at preventing the high ranking priests themselves from being extorted by the vizier: jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f tm rdj.t njs t̠¡.t nb ḫ pr ḫ .t nb ḥ r ḥ m-nt̠r nb n n¡ n r¡.w-pr m ḥ d̠ nbw pḳw ḥ bs.w sgr . . . ‘His Majesty commanded to prevent any vizier that will exact anything from any prophet of those sanctuaries, consisting of silver, gold, fine linen, clothes, unguents . . .’ (KRI V, 344, 10–11).287

Labor Requisition 8.8.4.2 Officials of the state were entitled to recruit people for particular tasks. The ‘legal’ grounds for the recruitment could vary: from the regular corvee due to regional needs to exceptional requirements,288 including, for instance special duties that involved using a boat for the sake of the Pharaoh (Horemheb’s command, l. 11–21). In the Old Kingdom, exempting temple personnel and other institutions—state institutions, such as pyramid cities, and private institutions, such as sanctuaries for funerary cults and donations—was a common topic of royal commands.289 Formulas such as r¡-ʿ.wy jdr ḥ nʿ k¡.t nb(.t) nt sp¡.t ‘collective activities and any work of a nome’ (see below) or f¡j h¡ n k¡.t ‘imposing involvement in work’290 were used. In the following quotation, officials liable to recruit people are under the scope of the prohibition, are forbidden from doing so: n rdj-n(=j) sḫ m nb m jt̠.t ḥ m.w-nt̠r nb nt( y).w m sp¡.t tn nt( y)=k jm=s r r¡-ʿ.wy jdr ḥ nʿ k¡.t nb(.t) nt sp¡.t ‘Under no circumstances will I allow any possessor of authority to take at his disposal any prophet who is in this nome in which you are to collective activities and any work of nome’ (Neferirkare’s command).291

  David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 149.   I. Hafemann, Dienstverpflichtung im Alten Ägypten während des Alten und Mittleren Reiches (IBAES 12; Berlin, 2009). 289   Hovestreydt, “A Letter to the King Relating to the Foundation of a Statue (P. Turin 1879 VSO),” 119; Hays, “wd̠: The Context of Command in the Old Kingdom,” 65. 290   E. Martin-Pardey, “Zu einer Bedeutungsvariante von ‘tragen’, f¡j,” in Diener des Horus Festschrift für Dieter Kurt zum 65. Geburtstag (Aegyptiaca Hamburgensia 1), ed. W. Waitkus (Hamburg, 2008), 175–202. 291   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 25. 287 288

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Various too were the kinds of tasks that necessitate work forces: digging dykes, ploughing and harvesting, expeditions, moving huge statues, erecting monuments, extracting gold, acting as carrier, etc.292 8.8.4.2.1 In the New Kingdom, the stress was laid on abuses committed against personnel of an institution by ‘interferring with them’ (d̠¡y.tw t¡ r=sn).293 What is meant by this expression is made explicit in the following threat against: rmt̠ nb nty jw=f r jt̠¡ rmt̠ nb n t¡ ḥ w.t-mn-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bd̠w m kfʿ m w n w m brt m bḥ w n sk¡ m bḥ w n ʿw¡ ‘anyone who will take at his disposal any person of the Mansion-ofMenmaatre-happy-in-Abydos, from a district to (another) district, by collective compact,294 by corvee of ploughing, by corvee of harvesting’ (Sethy I’s Nauri command l. 42).295

Every kind of employee is involved: fishers, fowlers, natron and salt gatherers (Ramses III’s Elephantine command, KRI V, 344, 3–4). Even ‘slaves’ are protected from any outside claim.296 Significantly, in a set of threats aimed at those who would violate a royal command for a funerary foundation, the first official under the scope of the threat is the general, that is to say, the high authority responsible for running labor levies: mte=f jt̠¡ rmt̠ jm=s r dj.te=f (r) h¡w nb n pr-ʿ¡ ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb sḥ n nb sw n ḥ ʿ.w=f ‘and whoever should draw any person from it to place him in any corvee of Pharaoh, Life, Safety, Health, or (in) any task belonging to him (= the general) himself’ (Royal command for Amenhotep son of Hapu estate, BM 138, l .6, see §9.1).

  Théodoridès, “Une charte d’immunité d’Ancien Empire,” 73–118; Ch. J. Eyre, “Labor in Ancient Egypt,” in Labor in the Ancient Near East (American Oriental Series 68), ed. Marvin A. Powell (New Haven, 1987), 18–20; Eyre, “Who Built the Great Temples of Egypt,” in L’organisation du travail en Égypte ancienne et en Mésopotamie (BdE 151), ed. B. Menu (Cairo, 2010), 135–36. 293   For this expression see Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 30. 294   K.A. Kitchen, “Egypt, Ugarit, Qatna and Covenant,” Ugarit Forschungen 11 (1979): 453–464; J. Hoch, Semitic Words in Egyptian Texts of the New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period (Princeton, 1994), 108–9, n° 135. 295   See also l. 32; David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 56–59. 296   A. el-M. Bakir, Slavery in Pharaonic Egypt (Supplément aux Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte, Cahier n° 18; Cairo, 1952), 67. 292



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Abuses against members of an institution could encompass the mere fact of assigning them to task other than their proper task: ḫ r jr sr nb nty sw r stkn jb pn nb=f r nḥ m ḥ sb.w r d.t=w ḥ r ky sdf m sḫ r n mty bjn . . . p¡ qr n jaw nbw jr-n=j r t¡ Hw.t-mn-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ ḫ wj mkj . . . jr p¡ nty jw=f r th rmt̠ jm=sn dd r k.t s.t ‘as for any high official who will be prone to suggest this idea to his master, to remove registered personnel so that they might be placed in another’s service in the manner of bad advice. . . . The gold-washing transport contingent that I have set up for the Mansion-of-Menmaatre is protected and safeguarded. . . . As for anyone who will abuse anyone of them, so that he would be placed to another position’ (Sethy I’s Kanais command, line 15: KRI I, 69, 9–10; and line 17: KRI I, 69, 15).

The protection of employees was sometimes overtly extended to their family, wife, children, and servants (for instance Sethy I’s Nauri command l. 99). 8.8.4.2.2 Despite our poor knowledge of the regulations, it is clear that the institutions often claimed to be protected from their personnel being recruited by any external authority for any labor demand. Indeed, royal commands gave an authoritative answer to these claims against abuse of employees. The fear of their personnel being employed by an outside authority led some institutions to create apocryphal or pseudepigraphical royal commands (‘faux sacerdotal’) (see §9.1). 8.8.4.2.3 The term ḥ n is often used in royal commands dealing with temples and institutions.297 Different meanings have been suggested: ‘to allocate person/property’,298 ‘befehlen’.299 Some scholars have observed that the term ḥ n should be understood as ‘protect’, since it is connected with royal commands pertaining to exempting people.300 This may be correct in some cases: 297   An interesting use in a damaged context occurs in a trilingual command for the temple of Athribis (CGC 31089, P. Vernus, Athribis: Textes et documents relatifs à la géographie, aux cultes, et à l’histoire d’une ville du Delta égyptien à l’Epoque pharaonique (BdE 78; Cairo, 1978), 198 [f]). 298   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 41. 299   Shirun-Grumach, Offenbärung, Orakel und Königsnovelle, 57. 300   I. Harari, “Le principe juridique de l’organisation sociale dans le décret de Séti Ier à Nauri,” in Le droit égyptien ancient: Colloque organisé par l’Institut des Hautes Études de Belgique 18 et 19 mars 1974, ed. A. Théodoridès (Brussels, 1974),

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pascal vernus jw wd̠-n ḥ m=f rdj.t ḥ n.tw t¡ ḥ w.t nt ḥ ḥ w m rnp.wt (nt) nsw bjty mn-m¡ʿ.trʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bdw ḥ r mw ḥ r t¡ ḫ t sp¡.wt njw.t šmʿ mḥ w r tm dj.t th.tw r rmt̠ nb n t¡ ḥ w.t nt ḥ ḥ w m rnp.wt (nt) nsw bjty mn-m¡ʿ.t-jb-hrw-m-¡bdw m t¡-r-d̠r=f m t̠¡y ḥ m.t ‘His Majesty commanded to cause to be organized the-Mansion-ofmillions-of-years-of-the King-of-Upper-and-Lower-Egypt-Menmaatrehappy-in-Abydos on water on land throughout the provinces and the towns of Upper Egypt and of Lower Egypt, so as to prevent abuses being done against any people of the-Mansion-of-millions-of-years-of-theKing-of-Upper-and-Lower-Egypt-Menmaatre-happy-in-Abydos who is in the entire land—male or female’ (Nauri l. 30 cf. l. 25–26. jr wd̠w.t ḥ n mr.t=f ‘who makes commands, who organizes its people’). ḥ n pr jt=f mnt̠w . . . r tm dj.t th.tw r rmt̠=f nb ‘to organize the estate of his father Monthu . . ., so so as to prevent abuses being done against any of its people’ (Thutmosis IV’s Medamud command).301

However, this is not always correct. For instance, in the following instance ḥ n clearly has a broader meaning than exempting people:302 r ḥ n pr ḥ ry-šf nsw t¡.wy nb nn-nsw r rdj.t mn jḥ n jmny.t jm=f mj jrr.t m h¡w d̠r.ty.w ‘to organize the Estate of Arsaphes, king of the Two Lands, lord of Heracleopolis, and to establish the ox of the regular offering, as it was in the time of the ancestors’ (Sheshonq’s Heracleopolis command, l. x+6–9).303

Elsewhere, the protection of people is but one of the measures encompassed by the term ḥ n: jr.tw wd̠.wt ḥ r rn=j . . . r ḥ n pr jmn-rʿ-nsw-nt̠r.w pr mw.t wr.t . . . r rdj.t wn=sn r ʿḥ ʿw=sn rdj.t ḥ ¡w ḥ r jry.t . . . r t̠s rmt̠=sn mnmn=sn ʿḥ .wt=sn mn r sḫ rw=sn jw smd.t=sn nb.t ḫ w(j) [mkj] . . . (see §8.8.4.1)

61; Hovestreydt, “A Letter to the King Relating to the Foundation of a Statue (P. Turin 1879 VSO),” 113; Cauville, “La charte d’immunité d’Abydos,” 399. 301   Bigler and Geiger, “Eine Schenkungsstele Thutmosis’ IV,” 16, translating ‘Schutz’. 302   In another text, ḥ n with the preposition m clearly has the meaning ‘provide with’: jry=j wd̠.w r ḥ n r¡-pr=k m ḫ tm.t nb.t twt ‘I made commands in order to provide your sanctuary with every kind of precious stuff belonging to you’ (Ramses IV stela from Abydos, JdE 48831, l. 14–15 = KRI VI, 23, 8; cf. Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire,” 23 [l]). 303   Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 5 [n° 15].

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‘May a command be issued in my name as first prophet of Amunrêsonter, Osorkon, in order to organize the estate of Amunrêsonter, the estate of Mut, the powerful one, lady of the Ishru . . ., in order to cause them to be in conformity with their standing, in order to add to what had been done . . ., in order to run their people, their cattle, their fields, so that they be established in conformity with their status, while all their staffs are protected and safeguarded . . .’ (High Priest Osorkon’s chronicle col. 39–41;304 see also col. 42).

The meaning ‘organize’ seems to be substantiated in a ritual incorporation of ḥ n in the caption sʿ¡ ¡bd̠w ḥ n sw n-m-.t ʿḥ ʿ.305 8.8.4.2.4 Actually, the technical term for the protection of the people of an institution from any abuses is well known; it is ḫ wj mkj ‘protect and safeguard’.306 David has suggested some connection with the English legal term ‘retained and preserved’.307 Indeed, the common expression ḫ wj mkj frequently involves barring the requisition of personnel, a practice that was certainly very common. For instance: wnn=sn ḫ wj mkj jw z nb jm=sn ḥ r jr.t ḥ n.t=f jr.t (m) ḥ w.t nt ḥ ḥ m rnp. wt n nsw bjty mn-m¡ʿ.t-rʿ-jb-hrw-m-¡bd̠w jw nn rdj.t d̠¡y.tw t¡ r=sn jn s¡-nsw n kš nb ḥ ry-pd̠.t nb sr nb kd̠n nb ḥ ry jḥ .w nb t̠¡y-sr nb wʿw nb n mšʿ rmt̠ h¡b m wp.t r kš ‘They are protected and safeguarded, while each of them is doing his duty, which is done (in) in the Mansion-of-millions-of-years-of-theKing-of-Upper-and-Lower-Egypt-Menmaâtre-happy-in-Abydos, without allowing interference with them on the part of any son of the king of Kush, any section commander, any official, any chariot conductor, any stall-master, any standard-bearer, any soldier of the army, anyone sent on a mission to Kush’ (Sethy I’s Nauri command l. 40–42). jw smd.t =sn nb ḫ wj mkj n(n) rdj.t d̠¡.tw t¡ r=sn jn [s] nb jn ḥ ¡tj.ʿ nb sr nb rwd̠ nb n pr-nsw ʿnḫ wd̠¡ snb r jr.t k¡.t nb.t jrr.t m t¡ pn r-d̠r=f

  Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 165–66.   Cauville, “La charte d’immunité d’Abydos,” 399. 306   Spalinger, “Some Revisions of Temple Endowments in the New Kingdom,” 22–23 n. 5. 307   David, Syntactic and Lexico-Semantic Aspects, 26. For the possibility that it sometimes has the more specific meaning ‘consecrate’, see Leahy, “A Protective Measure at Abydos in the Thirtheenth Dynasty,” 44 [b]. 304 305

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pascal vernus ‘All their personnel being protected and safeguarded, without allowing any[one] to interfere with them, any mayor, any high official, any proxy of the King’s domain, Life, Safety, Health, to do any work which is done is this entire country’ (Osorkon Chronicle, col. 40–41).308 jw grt wd̠-n=ḥ m=j ḫ w(j.t) mk.t t¡š pn n jt=j ptḥ rsy-jnb=f nb ʿnḫ -t¡.wy m-ʿ jr k¡.t nb jr mšʿ n rdj-n=j jt̠.tw rmt̠ jm m-ʿ sr nb wpwty-nsw nb ‘Moreover, I have commanded to protect and safeguard this limit for my father, Ptah South-of-his wall, lord of Ânkhtaouy, from anyone doing work, carrying out an errand. Under no circumstances will I allow any man to be taken away therefrom by any official, any royal commisioner’ (Apries’s Memphis command).309 wʿb rmt̠ nb.t smd.t nb.t ḫ w(j) mk(j) m b¡k r ḥ ḥ m-ʿ sr nb jpwty nb rwd̠ nb s¡-pe nb ‘so that all people and every crew should be free, being protected and safeguaded from labor requisition forever by any official, any commisioner, any proxy, any policeman . . .’ (Petisis’ Petition, pRylands IX, col. 22, 3–4).

In the earliest Old Kingdom royal commands, ḫ w( j) alone conveyed this technical meaning, the compound ḫ w( j) mk( j) appearing during Pepy II’s kingship.310 The old use is revitalized in one of Amenhotep III’s command integrated into his jubilee ritual, and adapted in Osorkon II’s version of the ritual:311 jw ḫ w(j)-n(=j) w¡s.t ḥ r ḳ¡=s wsḫ =s swʿb.tἰ dj.tj n nb=s nn d̠¡ t¡ r=s jn rwd̠w.w nw pr nsw ‘I have protected Thebes in its height and its width, being cleansed and given to its lord, without allowing the interference against them (= inhabitants of Thebes) by any proxy of the King’s domain’ (see §5.3; Osorkon version shows dj(=j) ḫ w(j) n=k ‘I have caused Thebes to be protected for you’, and adds ḫ wj rmt̠=sn ḥ nty ḥ r rn-wr n nt̠r nfr ‘so that their people might be protected forever in the great name of the good god’).

In Late Period ‘égyptien de tradition’, the term ḫ w( j) mk( j) seems to have been invested with a wider meaning, encompassing all kind of

  Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 166.   Gunn, “The Stela of Apries at Mitrahina,” 211–37; Der Manuelian, Living in the Past, 373–77; Gozzoli, The Writing of History, 104. 310   Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente, 246. 311   A further possible other instance, found in Osorkon Chronicle col. 52, is quoted §8.8.4.2.4. 308 309

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measures on behalf of a temple. In the case of the royal command of Nectanebo I (see above, §5.2.1), it is used in regard to taxes imposed on goods for the divine offering of Neith. Royal Command as a Form Implemented Outside of its Original Context 9 The royal command was so invested with prestige that its form was used in contexts different from its original context. •  Pseudepigraphical and apocryphal versions of royal commands (§9.1); •  Royal commands in literature (§9.2); •  Royal commands transposed in religious literature (§9.3). Pseudepigraphical and Apocryphal Versions of Royal Commands 9.1 The royal command making adjustment for the funerary endowment of Amenhotep son of Hapu, displayed on a stela mixing linear hieroglyphs and hieratic in a layout proper to hieroglyphic inscriptions312 is dated to the reign of Amenhotep III.313 But a closer analysis makes it clear that it was carved at the end of the 20th or the beginning of the 21st dynasty. The prestigious king of whom Amenhotep son of Hapu was the most appreciated official was fictitiousely summoned to give strong guarantees of the measures reportedly taken in the command (see §§3 and 8.8.4.2.1). 9.1.1 The command to protect and safeguard the temple of Amun of Taudjoy, implemented twice in the Petisis petition, and reportedly issued by the famous master of shipping, Smatauytefnakht, is clearly a

  Vernus, “Les espaces de l’écrit dans l’Égypte pharaonique,” 35–56.   BM 138; Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit I, 167–69.

312 313

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forgery.314 The copies, written in hieratic within a demotic document, are supposed to have been made from two stelae; one would have been in granite and erected in front of (the temple of) Amun. 9.1.2 The famous Hunger stela315 illustrates how a royal command could be inserted into a pseudepigraphical inscription. After a datation in the year 18 of King Djoser, a standard formula attempting to mirror the older phraseology of royal commands is used: jn.tw n=f wd̠-nsw pn r rdj.t rḫ =k ‘This king’s command has been brought to him (sic!) to make you know’ (col. 1).

It should be noted that according to the genuine phraseology wd̠, and not wd̠-nsw, is to be expected in this context. From the same perspective, the phrase ‘to make you know’ clashes with the phrase ‘this king’s command has been brought to him’. ‘See, this king’s command has been brought to you’ would have been the right formulation in the Middle Kingdom and 18th dynasty, actually involving jn.tw n=k, the second person reference to the addressee, instead of jn.tw n=f, in the third person (see §4.5). Further, King Djoser is made to say: jr=j wd̠.t tn ‘I have made this command’ (col. 22).

The text is obviously a ptolemaic forgery made up by the Khnum priests to root the rights of the estate of the god upon Dodekaschoenus in the old and prestigious time of King Djoser. Its exact datation remains controversial.316 A command dating to the King Neferkasokar is reported to have been found in the guarantee notice of the Book

314   G. Vittmann, “Eine misslungene Dokumentenfälschung: Die ‘Stelen’ des Peteese (P. Ryl 9, XXI–XXII),” in Acta Demotica. Acts of the Fifth International Conference for Demotists, Pisa 4th–8th September 1993 (EVO 17 [1993]), 301–15. 315   P. Barguet, La stèle de la Famine à Séhel (BdE 24; Cairo, 1953); Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature III, 94; Vernus, “Les décrets royaux,” 241; J.-Cl. Grenier, “Autour de la stèle de la Famine, de sa datation réelle et de sa date fictive,” in Séhel entre Égypte et Nubie Inscriptions rupestres et graffti de l’époque pharaonique: Actes du Colloque International (31 mai–1 juin 2002) (Orientalia Monspeliensia XVI), ed. A. Gasse and V. Rondot (Montpellier, 2007), 81–88. 316   Quack, “Der historische Abschnitt,” 277 n. 52.

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of the temple.317 In other fragments belonging to the same kind of literature, five fragments with the standard formula “this command has been brought to you” are known. It seems safer to suspect that these royal commands attested in Late Period temple library might be fictitious.318 Literature 9.2 A ‘royal command’ originally kept in some administrative archive could be reused in miscellanies collected for teaching. A good instance is afforded by a letter.319 It had been sent from the king to an official and features the standard formula: jn(-n.)tw n=k wd̠ nsw pn r-d̠d ‘if this “royal command” has been brought to you, it is to state what follows’, belonging to the phraseology of this kind of document (see §4.5). 9.2.1 In the well-known masterpiece of pharaonic literature, the Story of Sinuhe, the hero, in exile far away in Asia, receives a letter from pharaoh Senusret I. This letter, as any letter issued by a pharaoh (see §1.1), has the form of a copy (mjty) of a royal command and involves the formulation: wd̠-nsw n šmsw s¡-nh.t mk jn(-n.)tw n=k wd̠ pn n nsw r rdj.t rḫ =k ntt r-d̠d ‘Royal command to the retainer Sinuhe. Behold, if this command of the king has been brought to you, it is to to make you know (that . . .)’ (B 180–181).

Moreover, the graphic layout of the main manuscript is reminiscent of the diplomatic lay out of the royal command: writing in vertical columns is resumed after writing in horizontal lines.320

  Quack, “Der historische Abschnitt,” 274.   Ryholt, “On the Contents and Nature,” 154. 319   pAnastasi IV, 10, 8–11, 8 and pAnastasi V, 1a; Vernus, “P. Anastasi IV, 11, 4,” 144–45; Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 35 [n° 32]; David, Syntactic and LexicoSemantic Aspects, 222–35. 320   Vernus, “Les décrets royaux,” 242 n. 17. 317 318

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In a satirical letter, the authoritative power bound to the royal command is used ironically to confirm a situation boastfully proclaimed: wd̠ (n) nb nḫ t rn=f wsr hp=f . . . jnk psdy n h¡w=j nb ‘A command of the victorious lord whose law is powerful . . . I am the support of all my relatives’ (Hori’s letter, pAnastasi I, 9, 2; according to the spelling of three manuscripts, wd̠ should be the substantive ‘command’ rather than the verb).

Here, the reference to a royal command to establish the care shown by a man towards his family is obviously a literary device. Incorporation of Royal Command in Religion 9.3 The authoritative power that the royal command carried as ‘énoncé d’auctoritas’321 entailed its incorporation into religious literature. Religious texts, since they are used for magical and funerary purposes, need to have a guarantee of their efficiency. Various devices were implemented to offer such a guarantee, one on them their formulation as a royal command. Since this topic is beyond the scope of a work devoted to administration, in the treatment that follows I will limit myself to a mere sketch. 9.3.1 Already in the Coffin Texts, a spell is labeled in the following manner: ḫ tm wd̠ ḥ r ¡b.t [z] m h̠r.t-nt̠r ‘Sealing a command pertaining to the family of a man in the necropolis’

Opening the command, there is a Horus name in a serekh. The command is allegedly issued by Geb: jw wd̠-n gb jry-pʿ.t nt̠r.w rdj.t . . . ‘Geb, heir of the gods, has commanded to give . . .’ (CT 2, 151a–d [Spell 131]).322

  Vernus, “Les décrets royaux,” 239–46.   S. Schott, “Schreiber und Schreibgerät im Jenseits,” JEA 54 (1958): 45–50.

321 322



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Geb, as a protypical ruling god, was closely associated with issuing commands, as is shown by his being referred to in a Second Intermediate Period magical spell (pBerlin 3027, V, 10–VI, 1). In a magical composition of the New Kingdom, Geb is also involved in a royal command, labeled wd̠-nsw, according which Osiris commands him to take with him into the hereafter any bad spirit and disease that could affect a man from Deir el-Medina.323 A royal command to (rather than: of) Osiris-first-of-the-Westerners is issued to give protection against a long list of every kind of lethal causes;324 known from a Late Ramesside manuscript, this composition announces the ideological mutation of the Third Intermediate Period. In mythological transpositions of the human world into the divine world325 the supreme god, that is to say the sun creator—whatever his name—is entitled to issue royal commands. Among various instances,326 in a myth cited in the Calendar of Lucky and Unlucky Days. On the first day of the fourth month of the Inundation-season, that is to say, the day when the flood is supposed to have reached its climax, the Majesty of Re sent a royal command to his father, Nun, to inform him that the gods are happy. That seems to mean that they were satisfied with the current height of the inundation and that they did not want it to increase.327 The wording implements the jn(-n.)tw n=k r dj.t rḫ =k ntt formulation, which is typical of the New Kingdom (§4.5). 9.3.2 The use of the royal command form for religious literature was adapted to the evolution of beliefs. With the inaguration of the theocracy and the allegedly direct rule of the sun creator over the human world,328 any authoritative statement implied his approbation through an oracular statement (§2.5.5). Hence, magic charms for protecting the daily life

323   Cf. pDeir el-Medina 36: S. Sauneron, “Le rhume d’Anynakhte,” Kêmi 20 (1970): 7–18; J. Borghouts, Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts (NISABA 9; Leiden, 1978), 36–37, n. 54. 324   Cf. pTurin 54050 v° 2, 5: A. Roccati, Magica Taurinensia: Il grande papiro magico di Torino e i suoi duplicati (Analecta Orientalia 56; Turin, 2011), 30–31 and 171–72 (translation); pTurin 1993 = Fischer-Elfert, Altägyptische Zaubersprüche, 104, n° 89. 325   Luft, Beiträge zur Historisierung, passim. 326   Otto, “Götterdekret,” 676–77. 327   Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot,” 13; Leitz, Tagewählerei, 147–49. 328   Vernus, “La grande mutation idéologique du Nouvel Empire,” 69–95.

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of a child against diseases, demons,329 and all kinds of untoward events were felt all the more efficient, since they could be guaranteed by an oracular pronouncement of the deities. This led to the use of amulets bearing the text of oracular pronouncement—d̠d-n N ‘God N has said’.330 These have been called ‘oracular amuletic decrees’. This label reveals something of the truth with regard to the spirit of the document, but not with regard to its actual wording, in as much as it is not explicitly labeled a ‘command’ (wd̠). The same may be said about the ‘great oracular statements’ (ḫ r.tw ʿ¡) which Amun sent (wd̠)331 for the funerary destiny of people (NesyChonsu, Paynedjem),332 or about graffiti in which the threat formula takes on a heavier weight on account of its being stated (d̠d) by Amun-Re-Sonther.333 Needless to say, it happens, however, that similar compositions are labeled with ‘command’ (wd̠), for instance, the ‘command’ of Amun pertaining to the length of life of a priest.334 9.3.3 Now, formulations involving the formulaic expression of genuine royal commands are implemented in a lot of religious compositions. Since according to the doctrine of the theocracy, the god is directly ruling the human world, he is supposed to issue commands in the same   R. Lucarelli, “Popular Beliefs in Demons in the Libyan Period: The Evidence of the Oracular Amuletic Decrees,” in The Libyan Period in Egypt: Historical and Cultural Studies into the 21st–24th Dynasties. Proceedings of a Conference at Leiden 25–27 Cctober 2007, ed. G.P.F. Broekman, S.J. Demarée, and O.E. Kaper (Leiden, 2009), 231–39. 330   I.E.S. Edwards, Oracular Amuletic Decrees of the Late New Kingdom (Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum Fourth Series; London, 1960); B. Muhs, “Oracular Property Decrees and Their Historical and Original Context,” in The Libyan Period in Egypt: Historical and Cultural Studies into the 21st–24th Dynasties. Proceedings of a Conference at Leiden 25–27 Cctober 2007, ed. G.P.F. Broekman, S.J. Demaree, and O.E. Kaper (Leiden, 2009), 265–75; C. Peust, “Ein Orakelamulett (pTurin 1983),” in Omina, Orakel, Rituale und Beschwörungen, ed. B. Janowski and G. Wilhelm (Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments, Neue Folge 4; Gütersloh, 2008). 331   An implicit pun—or confusion—with ‘command’ (wd̠) is not out of the question. 332   Cf. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit I, nos 31, 32, 41, etc. 333   E. Frood, “Horkhebi’s Decree and the Development of Priestly Inscriptional Practices in Karnak,” in Egypt in Transition: Social and Religious Development of Egypt in the First Millennium BCE. Proceedings of an International Conference Prague, September 1–4, 2009, ed. L. Baresh, F. Coppens, and K. Smolarikova (Prague, 2010), 103–28. 334   Cf. pLeyde T 32, VII, 28: P. Vernus, “Études de philologie et de linguistique,” RdÉ 32 (1980): 128–30; F.R. Herbin, Le livre de parcourir l’éternité (OLA 58; Leuven, 1994), 69. 329

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format as human royal commands are issued. And indeed, various religious compositions are labeled with the term ‘command’ and made by a deity rather than by a commoner or a pharaoh.335 The interpretation of some of them has been much disputed because they sometimes involve not only a command from a deity, but also to a deity.336 This has seemed unacceptable to some scholars,337 because they have failed to recognize the ideological background. Just as the sun creator is supposed to be the paramount human world authority, according to the theocracy, ultimately controlling the pharaoh’s political decisions, he is the paramount authority in the world of the gods, and thus entitled to issue commands to other gods, such as Osiris, being the ultimate guarantee of their power and of their legitimacy: wd̠.t ʿ¡ jr r sp¡t jḳr.t .. r rdj.t ḥ q¡ wsjr m sp¡.t jgr.t ‘The great command made pertaining to the nome of the silent land . . . to cause Osiris to rule the silent land’ (pMMA 35.9.12).338

≈Y3Ê

wd̠ nsw jr n ḥ m n nsw bjty wnnnfr n¡ nt̠r.w ʿ¡.w m jgr.t . . . nt̠r wd̠ ( ) m-d̠d: j nn nt̠r.w r-¡w=sn jgr jgr sp 4 sd̠m=tn ḫ rw jmn-rʿ nb nsw.t-t¡.wy ‘Royal command made to the Majesty of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Wennefer, and to the great gods in the silent land. . . . A god’s command in the following words: “O all these great gods, be silent, be silent (four times). Listen to the voice of Amun-Re, lord to the Throne-od-the-two-lands . . .”’ (Late Period royal commands for Osiris).339

The fact that the royal command (wd̠-nsw) has been transposed into the world of the gods accounts for its being further labeled as ‘god’s command’ (wd̠-nt̠r). It should be noticed that the author of the command, that is to say, Amun, remains anonymous in the labeling, but is named in the fictitious pronouncement that mirrors the theoretical oral pronouncement of a full-fledged royal command (§3.1).

  Vernus, “Les décrets royaux,” 140.   Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot” 105–26; M. Depauw, “A ‘Second’ Amuletic Passport for the Afterlife: P. Sydney Nicholson Museum 346b,” SAK 31 (2003): 99. 337   H. De Meulenaere, “Le décret d’Osiris,” CdE 63 (1989): 234–41. 338   J.-Cl. Goyon, Le papyrus d’Imouthès Fils de Psintaês au Metropolitan Museum de New York (Papyrus MMA 35.9.21) (New York, 1999), 17–26; M. Smith, “The Great Decree Issued to the Nome of the Silent Land,” RdÉ 57 (2006): 217–32. 339   Bibliography in Quaegebeur, “Lettres de Thot,” 109–11; L. Kakósy, “Three Decrees of Gods from Theban Tomb 32,” OLP 23 (1992): 311–28. 335 336

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The adaptation not infrequently entails the label wd̠ nb-r-d̠r ‘Universal Lord’s command’ (Urk. VI, 39, 6). For instance, in a Late Period set of funerary compositions, the following text should be noted: wd̠-nb-r-d̠r n d̠ḥ wty r s¡ḫ wsjr N ‘Universal Lord’s command to Thot in order to glorify the Osiris N’.340

Late Period theology used the form of the royal command. According to wd̠ n rʿ nb-r-d̠r n s¡=f ‘a command of Re, the universal Lord, in favor of his son’, Egypt, and the surrounding countries were given to Horus as an jmy.t-pr ‘deed of conveyance’.341 This order is known by versions in the Edfu and Philae temples.342 The original copy was kept in the mks container (see §4.7.3). A famous command issued to Thot established a set of stipulations pertaining to the Abaton of Philae.343 Addendum A new edition of a royal command formerly known from not wholly reliable copies has been recently published by M. De Meyer, “The Fifth Dynasty Royal Decree of Ia-ib at Dayr al-Barshā”, RdÉ 62 (2011): 57–62. The text should be classified as a ‘private explicit version’ (see §7), displayed on the front of his tomb by a member of the elite to commemorate his being appointed to a prestigious position (see §7.1) by king Neferefre of the 5th dynasty. H. Papazian, Domain of Pharaoh The Structures and Components of the Economy of Old Kingdom Egypt (HÄB 52: Hildescheim 2012), 103–138. H. Beinlich, Papyrus Tamerit I Ein Ritualpapyrus der ägyptischen Spätzeit (SRaT 7; Dettelbach 2009): 11–39. W. Schenkel, “m=k+inj.tw=f?,” GM 234 (2012): 11–13.

340   C.E. Sander-Hansen, Die religiösen Texte auf dem Sarg der Anchnesneferibre (Copenhagen, 1957), 66. 341   Ph. Derchain, “Miettes,” RdÉ 46 (1995): 89–98. 342   H. Junker and E. Winter, Das Geburthaus der Isis in Philä (Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Denkschriften-Sonderband; Vienna, 1965), 20; S. Schott, “Falke, Geier und Ibis als Krönungsboten,” ZÄS 95 (1968): 57; M. Smith, The Mortuary Texts of Papyrus BM 10507 (Catalogue of the Demotic Papyri in the British Museum Volume III; London, 1987), 58; N. Baum, Le temple d’Edfou: À la découverte du Grand Siège de Rê-Harakhty (Paris, 2007), 269. 343   Recent and extensive presentation in Ch. Leitz, Quellentexte zur ägyptischen Religion, I. Die Tempelinschriften der griechisch-römischen Zeit (Einführungen und Quellentexte zur Ägyptologie 2; Berlin, 2006), 44–50.

Nomarchs and local potentates: the provincial administration in the Middle Kingdom Harco Willems Introduction: The Local Basis The present chapter will deal with the nature of local rule in the Middle Kingdom. It will address much-discussed issues like the administrative structure, the question of how to situate the “nomarchs” among other very high regional officials, and the tasks of these people and their role in Middle Kingdom history. But the administrative level involved at the same time concerns the interface between the organization of the state and Egypt’s rural population. Before embarking on the specific question at hand, it may therefore be useful to first address some general issues that this interactive structure entails. Although this is rarely realized, these are important for all forms of rulership, but on the local level they may be particularly acute. A degree of authority is prevalent in all forms of human society. In communities based on nomadism, hunting and gathering, the groups will be small and authority will be expressed to a large extent in terms of family relationships and spatial links. As communities expand in terms of numbers and occupied area, such very primary bonds remain in force, but are supplemented by more abstract mechanisms of control: the creation of sometimes extensive social groups, which, because they interact and interbreed, have to adopt strategies to sustain themselves, to create alliances, and to defend group members in times of threat. This may lead to ideas about territorial identity, underpinned by an ideological (religious) framework far transcending the everyday necessities of life. In societies with a viable system of writing, an elite able to read and write will inevitably emerge, using its capacity of storing and organizing information in ways that transform the life of all. And here we are, in the early 21st century, in a global society where information management is everywhere, and where it has become impossible to escape control by others. Yet, even underneath this excessively controlled way of life, myriads of informal structures continue to assert themselves, and they are by no means unimportant.

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Families, for instance, or regional or ideological entities that may have no ‘official’ form of organization but that nevertheless share sets of common ideas that distinguish them from others. Here one may think, for instance, of the widespread phenomenon of peripheral communities that sense a degree of ‘own-ness’ as opposed to the Centre (for instance Occitania in France or the area of the former German Democratic Republic in Federal Germany). The potential force of such sentiments occasionally becomes manifest in periods of crisis, such as the recent civil wars in former Yugoslavia. But far more common is the situation where tensions do not come to a head. Real though the sense of regional otherness may be, few people may even be consciously aware of its importance. The reason for stressing this here is that such phenomena, that are often hard to discern even for contemporaries, are virtually invisible to outsiders. And it goes without saying that we, as Egyptologists, are outsiders to an extreme degree. We do know, of course, that regional differences existed, for instance in terms of locally specific art styles. Also, in the Story of Sinuhe, the hero of the tale compares his confused state of mind after having fled from Egypt to Palestine with the sentiments of a man from the Delta who ends up in Elephantine (Sin. R66–67). This remark is only understandable if his feelings of local attachment were very strong, and if the writer of the tale expected his audience to understand such feelings. That this was the case is not strange. The way in which we imagine ancient Egypt is often tinged by our impressions of modern Egypt. But this mental picture must be warned against, as it may sorely misrepresent the realities of the past. Fast communication was impossible, for instance . When the 26th dynasty divine consort Nitocris I sailed from her Delta residence at Sais (?) to Thebes, it took her no less than sixteen days.1 The trip, which was after all surrounded with great pomp, may not have proceeded at maximum speed, particularly since it took place at a time when the Nile was low. But then, both at times of low and high Niles, travelling was probably always cumbersome and time-consuming. It has been argued that the river was badly suited for travel for about five months per year,2 a picture that is confirmed by 1  R. Caminos, “The Nitocris Adoption Stela”, JEA 50 (1964), 71–101; see in particular 98–99. 2   J. Degas, “Navigation sur le Nil au Nouvel Empire”, in: Les problèmes institutionnels de l’eau en Egypte ancienne et dans l’Antiquité méditerranéenne, B. Menu, ed.



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the eye-witness account of a member of the Napoleonic campaign to Egypt.3 Moreover it should not be forgotten that the population must still have been very small—an oft-cited estimate for the Middle Kingdom amounts to less than two million4—and that large stretches of the Nile Valley may still have been in a wild state. Very different from today, the map of Egypt may have presented itself as a series of occupied niches with larger and smaller settlements surrounded by barren land. Under such conditions, long-distance journeys were probably not frequently undertaken. The picture created in the preceding paragraph was of course not representative for all Egyptians. The Heqanakhte Papers, according to the new reappraisal by J.P. Allen, portray the main protagonist of the archive as a mortuary priest who, besides his cultic tasks, was clearly an entrepreneur who was economically active in an area extending over much of Upper Egypt.5 And Heqanakhte probably was not alone in this. According to D.A. Warburton, Egypt had a market economy and private entrepreneurship, carried out by travelling tradesmen, was probably not exceptional.6 Also, state foundations in rural areas produced for the royal court, which must have led to an intensive transport system. And corvée labourers were regularly mobilized for state projects. It is known, for instance, that the work force building the pyramid of Senwosret I at Lisht came from the Memphite region, the Delta, and Middle Egypt.7 But still, the agricultural basis of subsistence must have entailed that the vast majority of the population was (BdE 90; Cairo, 1994), 142. In this article, it is estimated that a trip from Cairo to Luxor, making use of a fast ship, might well require as much as nine days even at times travelling was relatively easy. 3   J.M. Le Père, “Mémoire sur la communication de la mer des Indes à la Méditerraneée, par la Mer Rouge et l’isthme de Soueys”, in: Description de l’Égypte ou recueil des observations et des recherches qui ont été faites en Égypte pendant l’expédition de l’armée française XI (Paris2, 1822), 240–241; cited by M. Bietak, “From Where Came the Hyksos and Where Did They Go?”, in: The Second Intermediate Period (ThirteenthSeventeenth Dynasties). Current Research, Future Prospects, M. Marée, ed. (OLA 192; Leuven, 2010), 168–169. 4   K.W. Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization. A Study in Cultural Ecology (ChicagoLondon, 1976), 84. Note that Butzer himself stressed that this figure is not to be considered a reliable estimate. 5   J.P. Allen, The Heqanakht Papyri (Publications of the Metropolitan Museum of Art Egyptian Expedition XXVII; New York, 2002), 105–189. 6  E.g. D.A. Warburton, “Before the IMF. The Economic Implications of Unintentional Structural Adjustment in Ancient Egypt”, JESHO 43 (2000), 65–131. 7   F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht II. The Control Notes and Team Marks (MMA Egyptian Expedition 23; New York, 1990), 24, fig. 1.

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tied to the fields in the immediate neighbourhood of the settlements where they lived. Many Egyptians probably never traveled far in their entire lives. During the annual Nile flood, many settlements must have been completely surrounded by fast-flowing water. At such times, which lasted for months, settlements were almost cut off from the outside world. And when the Nile receded, the peasantry had to till the fields. Since Egypt was predominantly an agricultural society, this by itself implies a relatively immobile population. It has been assumed in the past that the need to organize the irrigation of the fields necessitated a strong central state control, implying an intensive long-distance communication. The idea goes back on the one hand to theorists like K. Wittfogel, who argued that the growth of a strong, centralized irrigation authority is generally a triggering factor in the emergence of early states in areas with hot, humid climates.8 Secondly, mostly British civil engineers, working in Egypt at the end of the nineteenth and early in the twentieth century, observed an irrigation system in which long south-north feeder canals were used to inundate chains of basins over many hundreds of kilometers.9 Obviously, this system could only work if there was an irrigation authority spanning all of the country. These specialists assumed that what they observed was a very ancient system going back directly to the pharaonic period, and this view has until recently influenced egyptological theories about ancient irrigation.10 However, Wittfogel’s ideas are no longer considered adequate,11 and an irrigation system based on feeder  8   K. Wittfogel, Oriental Despotism. A Comparative Study of Total Power (New Haven, 1957).  9  See the account by G. Alleaume, “Les systèmes hydrauliques de l’Egypte prémoderne. Essai d’histoire du paysage”, in: Itinéraires d’Egypte. Mélanges offerts au père Maurice Martin s.j., Chr. Décobert, ed. (BdE 107; Cairo, 1992), 301–302. 10   Thus, e.g. T. Ruf, “Questions sur le droit et les institutions de l’eau dans l’Égypte ancienne”, in: Les problèmes institutionnels de l’eau, B. Menu, ed., 281–293. 11   Th.E. Downing, McG. Gibson (eds.), Irrigation’s Impact on Society (Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona 25; Tucson, 1974) contains papers showing that the background of the development of irrigation is less unidirectional than Wittfogel would have it. Meanwhile, strong arguments have been put forward against the hydraulic hypothesis for cultures in various parts of the world, like Mesopotamia (e.g. S. Pollock, Ancient Mesopotamia. The Eden that never was [Cambridge, 1999], 31, with references to further literature). The most detailed refutation of the relevance of Wittfogel’s ideas for ancient Egypt has been W. Schenkel, Die Bewässerungsrevolution im alten Ägypten (Mainz am Rein, 1978), pp. 25–36. He argued that, based on textual evidence, it is likely that artificial irrigation did not emerge before the First Intermediate Period, and therefore that Wittfogel’s ideas cannot be correct. Although Schenkel’s



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canals parallel to the Nil is not an age-old practice, but an innovation of the early nineteenth century.12 Although Butzer refers to large-scale state intervention in irrigation in the Graeco-Roman era, this only concerns the Fayūm.13 And here, very specific conditions prevailed. It is easy to see that the vast, deep-lying Fayūm must have tapped away vast amounts of water from the Nile Valley, rendering irrigation there less effective. The construction of dams at the entrance to the Fayūm, which is known to have taken place in the Ptolemaic Period, not only prevented these undesirable effects, but also led to the creation of a reservoir near al-Malā’a at the Fayūm entrance,14 which could be used long after the inundation was over, making it possible for the first time to introduce perennial agriculture. According to the Classical authors, irrigation projects in the region were already organized by Amenemhat III, pushing state intervention in the water regime of the Fayūm back in time to the Middle Kingdom. Although it is hard to find specific written or archaeological evidence to support this contention, the pyramid of Senwosret II at al-Lahūn was built at the mouth of the Fayūm. The fact that this place name goes back to ancient Egyptian R-ḥn.t, which means “the Mouth of the Canal,” is undoubtedly significant. Equally suggestive is the construction place of the pyramid of Amenemhat III at Hawwāra. It lies just opposite the place where the feeder canal of the al-Malā’a basin branches off from the Baḥr Yūsif. Since two colossal statues of the same king, of which the pedestals are still preserved near the modern village of Biahmū, probably stood near the banks the Lake Moeris,15 an active interest of Amenemhat III in the water regime in the Fayūm seems unmistakable. Even though there is no uncontrovertible archaeological evidence of waterworks dating to the Middle Kingdom, this, and the remarkable location of the pyramids of al-Lahūn and Hawwāra,

argumentation can no longer be fully subscribed to (see below), I see no reason to revive Wittfogel’s monocausal way of thinking. 12   Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization, 47. 13   Op. cit., 41; 91–93; 105. 14   G. Garbrecht, Untersuchung antiker Anlagen zur Wasserspeicherung im Fayum/ Ägypten (Braunschweig-Cairo, 1990); G. Garbrecht, H. Jaritz, “Neue Ergebnisse zu altägyptischen Wasserbauten im Fayum”, Antike Welt 23 (1992), 238–254. 15   Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization, 37; D. Arnold, Die Tempel Ägyptens. Götterwohnungen, Kultstätten, Baudenkmäler (Zürich, 1992), 187–188 (with bibliography).

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which otherwise is hard to explain, suggest that the account of the Classical historians is not entirely groundless.16 While these considerations prove that the state could intervene in irrigation projects, the special case of the Fayūm has little bearing on how irrigation was organized locally in most parts of the country. Butzer, building partly upon an unpublished study by K. Baer, made a strong case for regionally based irrigation systems.17 His ideas receive support from the maps of the Description de l’Égypte, drawn in 1799–1800, which give an impression of what the situation was like before the restructuring of the irrigation system early in the nineteenth century. A study by G. Alleaume shows that at that time, irrigation in southern Upper Egypt did not operate based on feeder canals parallel to the Nile, but on canals more or less perpendicular to the river.18 Combined with dykes, which also ran from the banks of the Nile to the desert edge, these led to the creation of local irrigation basins linked to one or a few settlements. In Middle Egypt, where the Nile valley is very wide, such a smallscale system was not possible, because the desert edge might be as far as ten kilometres from the river. Here, the natural relief of the countryside posed a problem. In cross-section, the Nile Valley is convex, the highest points being the levees on active or abandoned river banks. From here, the surface gradually descends towards the desert edge, and the difference in elevation can be in the order of magnitude of several metres. Adopting the same irrigation system as in the south would imply that the floodwaters collected in the deeper areas close to the desert edge. The higher land closer to the river would under natural conditions have less water or none at all. The map of the Description de l’Égypte shows that measures were taken to prevent this happening. Making use of natural elevations and dykes, artificial basins were created on higher land to prevent all the water from flowing away to lower areas. Precisely this seems to be described in a text from Assiūt ̣. Inscribed in a nomarch tomb of the First Intermediate Period, this document has a reputation as being one of the earliest to extensively describe the workings of irrigation. In this context it 16   Based only partly on the same evidence, U. Luft has arrived at similar conclusions (“L’irrigation au Moyen Empire”, in: Les problèmes institutionnels de l’eau, B. Menu, ed., 249–253). 17   Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization, 41–45. 18   G. Alleaume, in: Itinéraires d’Egypte, Chr. Décobert, ed., 301–322.



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includes the statement: “I turn[ed the] high la[nd] (ḳ¡y.t) in]to marshland (ἰdḥ .w).”19 It stands to reason that the word “high land” here refers to the higher part of the floodplain. The deeper areas will under natural conditions have been the very wet areas on the desert edge, and must have been marsh-like. If, in the cited passage, the high land is compared to such areas, a reasonable explanation in my view is that the nomarch in question built dykes (and perhaps even several sets of them) to parcel up the floodplain into artificial basins at successively lower levels. Comparing the map of part of Middle Egypt made by the Description de l’Égypte (which indicates the location of dykes before the nineteenth century) with modern topographical maps giving elevations,20 it is possible to see that precisely this system was operative then (see fig. 1 for the area around al-Ashmūnayn). Here it can be seen that Nile water can enter through a side channel of the river into basin I. Since a canal leads from here into basin II, this is the likely route of the water. From basin II, the water further flows into basins III, IV, V and VI. The isohypses indicate that, the farther the basins lie from the Nile, the lower their elevation is. The inundation regime was therefore as follows. When the Nile had reached a sufficiently high point to allow the sluices to be opened or the dykes to be broken, the water was first allowed to flow through the entire chain of basins, first flooding basin VI. When the water level here was sufficiently high, the connection between this basin and basin V was blocked, allowing number V to be flooded. Next came basin IV, then III, then II, and finally I. Two remarks must be made here. First, the chain of basins here discussed roughly lies at an angle of about 45° to the local course of the Nile, not parallel to it as was the case in the new feeder canals dug in the nineteenth century. What is illustrated here for one basin chain is also the case for the neighbouring ones. Second, an implication of the system is that, as the Nile flood recedes, much water remains trapped in the lowermost basins. The water from

 H. Brunner, Die Texte aus den Gräbern der Herakleopolitenzeit von Siut mit Übersetzung und Erläuterung (Äg.Fo. 5; Glückstadt, Hamburg, New York, 1937), 65, line 7. 20  I used the 1957 1:100,000 topographic map of “Mallawī” (52/263), sheet 140 published by the Egyptian topographic survey and C.F.L. Pancoucke, Description de l’Égypte ou Recueil des observations et des recherches qui ont été faites en Égypte pendant l’expédition de l’armée française. Atlas géographique (Paris, 1826), flle. 13–14. 19

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Figure 1.  Basin systems in the area around the town of al-Ashmūnayn in the late nineteenth century A.D.



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here can impossibly flow back into the Nile after the flood, because the higher basins I, II and III are in between. This means that most water must have been evacuated through the Baḥr Yūsif depression. This reconstruction is based upon a map made about 3,600 years after the Middle Kingdom. I do not have to stress that the way the floodplain was parceled up around 1,800 B.C. may have been very different from the situation in A.D. 1,800. But the Napoleonic map at any rate shows a pre-modern system that is mainly based on the natural shape of the land plus some dykes, which need not have been very high. It seems not unlikely that a similarly simple system may have been operative in the Middle Kingdom, with the proviso that, different from the late eighteenth century, probably not the entire floodplain was yet under cultivation. If we assume that such a system existed in the Middle Kingdom, it is immediately clear that this has its effects on the way rural Upper Egypt was organized. In the south, there were small artificial basins, in Middle Egypt, there were larger chains of interdependent artificial basins. There is a difference in scale, but the situation in both parts of the country implies that the land was regionally fragmented at least for agricultural purposes. Within local units a degree of cooperation must have existed to make the system work, and where chains of basins are involved, fairly large groups of persons are likely to have been involved. Whether this implies that the central administration was involved is another matter. Possibly we should imagine that under certain conditions informally organized groups of local peasants could manage the system to their own benefit. The stela of Merer in Krakow (MNIKXI-999, lines 7–11), dated to the First Intermediate Period, at least suggests as much. After having boasted of his benefactions for his town in times of famine, Merer points out how he kept alive his “brothers and sisters”. The account continues: “I shut off all their fields and all their kôms in town and in the countryside. I did not allow them21 to flood for anyone else, being how an able commoner acts for his family.”22 It is generally agreed that this passage means to say that Merer filled his family’s irrigation basin, not allowing the water to reach fields of  Probably: “their waters”.   J. Černý, “The Stela of Merer in Krakow”, JEA 47 (1961), 5–9. For another tomb inscription passage probably rooted in the same atmosphere, see H.G. Fischer, “Marginalia III”, GM 185 (2001), 45–47. 21 22

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others. This is described as socially desirable behavior, because in this way the social group led by Merer can be fed. It is not very clear what the size of this group was. The kinship terms here translated as “brothers and sisters” have in fact a far wider denotative range, and do not even necessarily designate exclusively kin. So the group might well be larger than a nuclear family or a household. Unfortunately the term here rendered as ‘family’ does not help much either. The Egyptian text reads hw.t. For this, no exact parallel exists. Černý suggests it to be a form of the word mhw.t, which perhaps simply designates an informal network of kin, although its true nature is not fully understood.23 The introductory passage of the text gives us an idea, however, as to where in the social spectrum Merer should be situated. He holds the fairly low rank title of smḥ r wʿ.ty, and his functions are “butler, overseer of the butchers of the entire House of Khuu” (lines 1–2). It stands to reason that the House of Khuu designated the local ruling family, and within the clientèle dependent on these rulers, Merer clearly had a relatively modest rank. This text provides a revealing look into a segment of the social spectrum that is rarely referred to in other texts. But the statement that Merer acts “how an able commoner acts for his family” raises the description to a more general level. If we follow Merer in interpreting the text’s content as a description of a more widespread practice, it seems clear that in his environment basin irrigation was carried out on a relatively informal level. On the other hand, the inscription from Assiūt tomb V, from which I have already cited, suggests that a local administrator (a nomarch) was responsible for the irrigation in his nome. Perhaps it is not insignificant that the stela of Merer, describing an irrigation policy on the family level, probably describes a situation in the region of Edfu, i.e. in southern Upper Egypt, where the basins were small, whereas the Assiūt ̣ text, concerning the involvement of the regional administration, is from Middle Egypt, where the floodplain is wide and the basin system more complex to operate. In some inscriptions, such realities are apparently referred to as “the waters” of a given territory. Thus, stela Leiden V3,24 dated to year 33 23   D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen im Mittleren Reich (Bonn, 1983), 179–203; H. Willems, “Family Life in the Hereafter according to Coffin Texts Spells 131–146”, in: R. Nyord (ed.), Studies Frandsen, n. 30. 24  P.A.A. Boeser, Beschrijving van de Egyptische verzameling in het Rijksmuseum van Oudheden te Leiden. De monumenten van den tijd tusschen het Oude Rijk en het Middelrijk. Eerste afdeeling. Stèles (Leyde-Gravenhage, 1909), pl. II.



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of Senwosret I, was owned by a man called Antef, who was a “field supervisor in the Head of Upper Egypt, southwards as far as Dendera,25 northwards as far as Akhmīm” (ἰm.y-r ¡ḥ .wt m tp-rs.y rs.y.w r ʾIḳw mḥ . ty.w r Ḫ nt.y-Mnw). This man started his career as a “field scribe in the waters of Abydos in the Thinite nome” (sš ¡ḥ .wt m mw.w n.w T¡-wr ¡bḏw), an office that had been in the family for generations. These titles suggest an administrative link between fields (¡ḥ .t) and water, and also that the waters belonged to the town of Abydos. Based on what we discussed before, this is likely to represent an irrigation basin, or perhaps rather a chain of basins. A similar situation is described in the autobiography of Khnumhotep II from Banī Ḥ asan, lines 30 ff.26 This passage describes how king Amenemhat I reestablished order in the Oryx nome. The text stresses in particular that the territorial borders between neighbouring “towns” (nἰw.wt) were reaffirmed according to what had been laid down in “old writings”. The passage concerns the area surrounding the town of Menat-Khufu, and the “waters” in this area are specifically mentioned. Since the text also exactly defines the area as occupying the part of the Oryx nome on the east of the Nile, nowadays a very narrow strip of land, this is likely to have consisted of only one irrigation basin. A stela found in ‘Izbat Rushdī likewise refers to a domain of king Amenemhat located “in the waters of this town”.27 This document is a border stela, and the Banī Ḥ asan passage mentions such stelae also, in a context with explicit hints to conflicts between neighbouring “towns” about rights over water (or perhaps rather the agricultural land connected with this). The same is hinted at in the stela of the vizier Mentuhotep (CG 20539,2) and in the tomb autobiography of the vizier Ahanakht I.28 Both men established boundary stelae between nomes. The latter case is particularly instructive, as Ahanakht was also a nomarch, and he claims in the same breath to have had similar responsibilities within the nome, separating individual fields with boundary stones. All these texts stress the importance

  H.G. Fischer, Dendera in the Third Millennium B.C. (New York, 1968), 3–8.   P.E. Newberry, Beni Hasan I (London, 1893), pl. XXV. 27  See S. Adam, ASAE 56 (1959), 216; pl. IX; M. Bietak, J. Dorner, “Der Tempel und die Siedlung des Mittleren Reiches bei ‘Ezbet Ruschdi. Grabungsvorbericht 1996”, Ä&L 8 (1998), 17–18 (with literature); H. Goedicke, “The Building Inscription from Tell el-Dab’a of the Time of Sesostris III”, Ä&L 12 (2002), pp. 187–190. 28   P.E. Newberry, El Bersheh II (London, 1895), pl. XIII, line 11 and H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I. The Rock Tombs of Djehutinakht (No. 17K74/1), Khnumnakht (No. 17K74/2), Iha (No. 17K74/3) (OLA 155; Leuven, 2007), 102. 25 26

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for the definition of territorial borders. This seems to be primarily a legal matter linked to property rights, for there is no hint that the central authorities were involved in the practical irrigation management of the territories concerned.29 In the Fayūm, the central state may have literally built dykes and dug canals, but there is no indication of this in Upper Egypt.30 This brings us back to the basic issue of this section. We have seen that the rural population was probably relatively immobile, being “rooted” in the agricultural land it worked. The annual flood must have physically isolated the population, and travel was also difficult when the Nile was low. The in the Middle Kingdom still only partial ‘colonization’ of the Nile Valley must have further contributed to the emergence of regional entities. Finally, the irrigation regime, which lay at the root of the economy, was based on a system with basins or basin chains, i.e. smaller or larger areas within which collaboration is a precondition for successful agriculture. All these forces contribute to the Nile Valley being split up into separate regional units. Local Potentates: A Matter of Perspective The fragmentary nature of written and archaeological evidence should not make us overly confident in the accuracy of our interpretations. My reason for starting this chapter, not with texts giving details about local rulership, but with an environmental perspective, has been deliberate, prompted by a desire to give priority to indications that are not often taken into consideration. The great attention paid to written records is inversely proportionate to their rarity, implying that prominence is usually given to sources that may be not at all representative. These texts occur almost exclusively in tombs, and even here only in

29  In P. Harageh 3, a diary entry of a sš ¡ḥ.wt, the task at stake seems also to have concerned only the surveying of land, not the administration of the irrigation (see P. Smither, “A Tax-Assessor’s Journal of the Middle Kingdom”, JEA 27 [1941], 74–76). I have found only one example where the central state may have been involved in the construction or upkeep of a canal. In stela Cairo CG 20531, dated to the reign of Amenemhat II, the owner, an overseer of works, states that his lord “selected him in the Two Lands in order to supervise for him the (construction of ?) an ʿ-canal in the Thinite nome.” 30  Against earlier statements to the contrary, U. Luft has even argued that no known administrative title of the Old and Middle Kingdoms refers to irrigation (in: Les problèmes institutionnels de l’eau, B. Menu, ed., 255–260).



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the tombs of those linked to the highest provincial elite. These people were buried in large cemeteries containing not only the sepulchres of the nomarchs and their direct entourage, but in many cases thousands of others, who were buried in smaller tombs, and sometimes in very small ones. Egyptologists have a tendency to attribute burials of the latter two kinds to the ‘ordinary’ population, but a note of caution is in order here. In Dayr al-Barshā, for instance, the masses of smaller burials in the plain seem in great majority to date to the very beginning of the Middle Kingdom, a period when the nome capital of al-Ashmūnayn played an important role in national politics.31 After that, the amount of burials dropped dramatically, and this is of course unlikely to reflect an equally dramatic demographic trend in the overall population. Perhaps the amount of government officials in nearby al-Ashmūnayn simply decreased, and the size of the elite cemetery at Dayr al-Barshā with it. In this case, those buried here apparently represent only a part of the rural population. Similarly, S.J. Seidlmayer has recently argued that the occupants of the small tombs in Banī Ḥ asan belonged to a relatively privileged group.32 Although cemeteries like these have been rather intensively discussed, it should be stressed that they are usually the only ones to have received such attention in entire nomes. But these burial places, belonging to the nome capitals or occasionally other settlements of comparable importance, were obviously not the only population centres in the nome. This obvious fact is of far greater importance than is usually realized. Of course there must have been many smaller and larger settlements in the nome beside the capital, but in most cases these, or their burial grounds, have never been located. The only region where the situation has been described in relative detail is the area between Qāw and Badārī, a thirty kilometre stretch on the eastern Nile bank south of Assiūṭ. Here, Brunton and Petrie discovered a whole range of cemeteries, of which some related to the nome capital, but others to differently sized settlements in the surroundings.33 My own 31  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 107–113; Id., Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 87 ff. 32   S.J. Seidlmayer, “People at Beni Hassan. Contributions to a Model of Ancient Egyptian Rural Society”, in: The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt. Essays in Honor of David B. O’Connor II, Z.A. Hawass, J. Richards, ed., (ASAE Supplement 36,2; Cairo, 2007), 351–368. 33   For an analysis, see S.J. Seidlmayer, Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich (SAGA 1; Heidelberg, 1990), 123–210.

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research in the Dayr al-Barshā region is at the time of writing developing a strategy to disclose such large-scale spatial patterns. Although it is still far too early to provide details, it is clear that in this area also, there are numerous smaller cemeteries beside Dayr al-Barshā itself. Some are very small, only containing one or two small, undecorated rock tombs and a small scatter of pit tombs in the slopes below. Here we find in miniature what is found in the great nomarch cemeteries: regional big men are buried in relatively impressive, and impressively located tombs, whereas the others were buried in the foothills. This is very interesting, suggesting as it does that there were ‘big men’ of sorts. Some of them may have been merely the heads of an isolated farmstead, others of a hamlet, a small village, or a smaller or larger town, and then of course there were the provincial administrators. In order to understand what we are looking at, it is crucial to realize that only the latter category is usually visible in terms of published documentation for their tombs. And since usually only these large tombs are inscribed and decorated, another corollary is that for most lower order “big men” we cannot even expect to find written evidence. They may have held titles, but if they did, we do not know which. This being the case, it should not be ruled out that somewhere along the spectrum (and it need not be low on the scale) we have to reckon with systems of local organization that were mostly informal. Undoubtedly, the rural folk culture, which Kemp has dubbed “preformal culture”,34 is linked to this. I think it reasonable to suppose that the “nomarchs” and other big men on the highest provincial scale should be understood also as part of the rural social fabric. Their role in the Egyptian state at large cannot of course be denied, and will be returned to later on. But, different from the situation in the Old Kingdom, we find no mention of Middle Kingdom governors who started their careers as palace or Residence officials subsequently appointed as heads of provinces. Stated differently, these people were born in the province and grew up there, even though part of their youth may have been spent at the royal court. They formed the apex of a whole network of local social relationships. These people surface in the egyptological record because they had monumental, inscribed tombs. We can occasionally tell some of the

34   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt. Anatomy of a Civilization (London, New York, 1989), 65–83.



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main lines of their lives from their funerary autobiographies. These usually inform us on their careers, because great store is laid on their titles, and on how and when they acquired them. We learn that they reached their exalted state because they were appointed by the king; but since they more often than not seem to have followed in their fathers’ footsteps, officialdom was to no small extent hereditary. However, the fact that the king was required to appoint them suggests that he could also choose unexpected candidates, something that probably happened every now and then. Local rulership may have been quasihereditary, but the line of succession must have started somewhere. And this raises a question that the texts do not help to resolve: what made the king decide to appoint a “nomarch” belonging to a new line? The underlying reasons were probably highly diverse, but in one way or another, the new “nomarch” must, in the period preceding his appointment, have acquired a position in the local hierarchy that made him the most likely candidate. There is no evidence to illustrate such careers in detail. However, there is little room for doubt that we are facing men who, within the local, partly informal social fabric, had become so important that it was hard to bypass them. Perhaps they were successful entrepreneurs of the Heqanakhte type, although not necessarily always on such a geographically wide-ranging scale. The funerary contracts of Djefaihapi I, a local potentate contemporary with Senwosret I, make a clear difference between two types of financial resources that this man could muster. On the one hand he could rely on the pr ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ (‘the estate of the baron’), which was his income as an official. But on the other he financed his funerary cult from the pr ἰt, ‘the father’s estate’, i.e. from the capital he had inherited from his father.35 In this particular case it is likely (although uncertain) that the official had succeeded his father in office, and therefore that the father’s estate was partly based on income he had received from the state. But there is nothing inherently unlikely in the assumption that some of the family capital was due also to private initiative.36 What I am arguing here is that the “nomarchs”, who are known to egyptologists because their tomb inscriptions inform us on their careers as state officials, were probably partly rooted in a world in which the

 A.J. Spalinger, “A Redistributive Pattern at Assiut”, JAOS 105 (1985), 7–20.  In this account, I subscribe to D. Warburton’s idea that Egypt had a market economy (cf. n. 6). 35 36

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state did not directly interfere: the rural informal folk culture, where their role may have been that of a gentleman farmer. When appointed a “nomarch”, they also became officials. This having been said, it remains that reaching official status was obviously extremely important for them. Otherwise, their careers in the state would not occupy such a central place in their autobiographies. In fact, as far as I am aware, there are no autobiographies in which the tomb owner does not boast official titles. This suggests that a state career followed almost unavoidably once a person had reached a certain local status. Unfortunately little is known about Egyptian settlements of the Middle Kingdom that could inform us of the conditions of living of the different social strata, and the cases where we do have archaeological remains are not necessarily representative for the conditions in rural communities. Keeping this reservation in mind, it may nevertheless be useful to cast a glance at some of these instances. A first point that should be stressed is that most Middle Kingdom town sites that have been excavated are planned settlements. Writing about this in 1989 B.J. Kemp came close to suggesting that this was in fact a characteristic of Middle Kingdom towns in general.37 However, research carried out since has shown that organically grown settlements also existed, for instance at Elephantine.38 Although there is still a huge bias in terms of documentation in favour of planned settlements, this suggests to the author that organically grown settlements were probably the norm, whereas planned settlements were created by the authorities to fulfill special needs of the state. In the latter case, one may think of workmen’s settlements such as were built in Tall al-Dabʿa39 or Qaṣr

37   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt. Anatomy of a Civilization (London, New York, 1989), 149–166. 38  C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII. Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit (AVDAIK 91; Mainz am Rhein, 1996); W. Kaiser, e.a., “Stadt und Tempel von Elephantine. 25./26./27. Grabungsbericht”, MDAIK 55 (1999), 234, fig. 56. Also, the town of Abū Ghālib, which in Kemp’s 1989 publication is still attributed to the type of the planned settlements, is far less regularly built than other representatives of the type. I would be inclined to consider this rather as an organically grown settlement (note that it no longer features in the second edition of Kemp’s book, published in 2006). 39  E. Czerny, Tell el-Dabʿa IX. Eine Plansiedlung des frühen Mittleren Reiches (ÖAW Denkschr. XVI; Wien, 1999).



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al-Sagha,40 of the Nubian fortresses, or of pyramid towns, built in order to sustain the funerary cult of the sovereign. The best-known example of a site of the latter kind is the town of al-Lahūn, which belongs to the pyramid of Senwosret II.41 Recently, a settlement of the same kind was discovered at Abydos, which belonged to the royal tomb or cenotaph of Senwosret III.42 The military camps and workmen’s barracks probably sheltered a population with only a single purpose, but the pyramid towns had a more varied population structure, and this is reflected in a ranking in terms of size and number of rooms and storage facilities. As Kemp has duly noted, the town at al-Lahūn shows a restricted amount of house models, the settlement being organized in blocks in which only one such model prevailed. It stands to reason that not all inhabitants will have been satisfied by this strictly regulated living environment, and it is clear that they soon began to adapt the dwellings to their personal preference.43 But the model had nevertheless been designed by Egyptian administrators, and thus the settlement patterning gives an idea of what they believed to be the ideal structure of the population. Here it must be pointed out that, besides different kinds of smaller dwellings, the settlement also contained seven very large, walled compounds. These were internally structured as groupings of separate houses of different sizes, probably each housing one nuclear family, or, in the case of the smallest ones, just one or two servants. These compounds were also the only place in the settlement where there were large granaries, and these were so vast that each compound could feed a large part of the rest of the settlement.44 If, as seems likely, this settlement was modeled to fulfill the needs of the community, it seems that those in charge of the large living compounds were surrounded by an extensive group of dependants. In the biggest units of the compound lived the family of the owner and that of his eldest, married son, besides that sheltering also an extensive group of lower ranking officials and servants. But the circle of dependants probably

40   J. Slíwa, “Die Siedlung des Mittleren Reiches bei Qasr el-Sagha”, MDAIK 48 (1992), 177–191; extensive discussion B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt. Anatomy of a Civilization (London, New York,2 2006), 227–231. 41  Very extensively B.J. Kemp, op. cit. (n. 40), 211–221. 42   J. Wegner, “The Town Wah-sut at South Abydos: 1999 Excavation”, MDAIK 57 (2001), 281–308. 43   This is also well documented for the workmen’s settlement at Tall al-Dabʿa (E. Czerny, Tell el-Dab’a IX). 44   B.J. Kemp, op. cit., 215–217.

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extended also into the settlement outside the large compounds, and these people may have received their pay from the granaries there. These compounds were very large, having a built surface in the order of magnitude of 2,500 m2. The main inhabitants of these compounds were no doubt very high officials. But it is instructive to compare their houses to the great Middle Kingdom palace in Tall Bast ̣ā,45 which was inhabited by a “baron and overseer of priests” (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr). Unfortunately this vast structure has not been adequately published; and it seems likely that what is visible today represents only a part of the total. But the uncovered part of the building alone covers an area of over one hectare, four times as much as the villas in al-Lahūn. This figure could be larger depending on how great a part of this building goes undocumented. This example gives an impression of the magnitude of the residence of a regional administrator. Interestingly, the palace is surrounded by a cemetery. To the east is the impressive multi-chambered tomb of the family of the high administrators, to the west is a far larger cemetery with smaller tombs, although even these are well-built mudbrick vaults. It is likely that this is not the cemetery of the inhabitants of the town generally, but of the officials attached to the palace. For Middle Egypt, whence derives most of our information on the “nomarchs”, no comparable evidence exists, but here the cemeteries give an impression of their position within society. Like in Tall Bast ̣ā, these cemeteries are split up in different zones for the highest administrators, their closest collaborators, and the lower rank and file. Here also, it seems that the general population was buried elsewhere (see p. 353 above). In Banī Ḥ asan, it has been possible to define the administrative ranks buried in the nomarch cemeteries to a degree, and it seems that the provincial rulers were here buried surrounded by their staff (see n. 32). The rock tomb of a high official recently discovered at Assiūṭ is surrounded by literally dozens of smaller tomb shafts,

45   C.C. Van Siclen III, “Remarks on the Middle Kingdom Palace at Tell Basta”, in: Haus und Palast im alten Ägypten, M. Bietak, ed. (Unt. d. Zweigstelle Kairo des ÖAI 14; Wien, 1996), 239–246; Id., “The Mayors of Basta in the Middle Kingdom”, in: Akten des vierten internationalen Ägyptologenkongresses München 1985 IV, S. Schoske, ed. (SAK Beiheft 4; Hamburg, 1991), 187–194. A partly different plan was published by M.I. Bakr, H. Brandl, “The pharaonic cemeteries of Bubastis”, in: Egyptian Antiquities from Kufur Nigm and Bubastis, M.I. Bakr, H. Brandl, ed. (Museums in the Nile Delta, 1; Berlin, 2010), 19, fig. 1.



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suggesting a similar situation.46 And several of the larger rock tombs at Dayr al-Barshā are likewise surrounded by smaller, but still relatively impressive rock tombs of the staff of the nomarch.47 While it may be exaggerated to understand these people as members of the master’s ‘household’, they definitely seem to constitute an extensive clientèle dependent upon him. In this regard, the system still resembles that of the regional administrators of the First Intermediate Period, although in the latter case, the funerary architecture expresses the relationship between different social levels even more clearly. As S.J. Seidlmayer has shown, in this period the large mastabas and Ṣaff-tombs of the high nobility included large numbers of smaller burials, and it stands to reason that these latter belonged to the entourage of the main owner of the tomb.48 This has been interpreted as expressing local, socially ranked groupings and their patron. Interestingly, for the late Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period, it has been shown for various sites that most of the occupants of the smaller tombs were males, implying that their wives were buried elsewhere, probably near the settlements where they and their families had resided, to all likelihood with their husbands. But these latter when they died joined their superiors, a clear expression of how strong the bond with the patron was felt.49 The information for the Middle Kingdom is less clear in this regard, because here little information on age and sex ratios in cemetery populations has been published. But at least at Dayr al-Barshā,

46   J. Kahl, M. el-Khadragy, U. Verhoeven, “The Asyut Project: Fifth Season of Fieldwork”, SAK 37 (2008), 204–205; J. Kahl, M. el-Khadragy, U. Voerhoeven, A. el-Khatib, “The Asyut Project: Sixth Season of Fieldwork (2008)”, SAK 38 (2009), 115, fig. 2. 47  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I; to the tombs here studied, which belong to the entourage of the nomarch Ahanakht I, one can now add the tomb of Duahor, of which the publication is in preparation. The location of this tomb suggests that burials in the wider surroundings of the tomb of Ahanakht I belong to the entourage of this nomarch. See also the tombs of the entourage of Djehutihotep (most recently H. Willems, M. De Meyer, T. Dupras, D. Depraetere, G. van Loon, A. Delattre, Chr. Peeters, T. Herbich, G. Verstraeten, W. Van Neer, “Preliminary Report of the 2004–2005 Campaigns of the Belgian Mission to Dayr al-Barshā”, MDAIK 65 [2009], in press). 48  S.J. Seidlmayer, Gräberfelder, 403–405. The tomb of the “mayors” of Tall Bast ̣ā is perhaps of the same kind. 49  S.J. Seidlmayer, “Wirtschaftliche Situation und gesellschaftliche Entwicklung im Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich—ein Beitrag zur Archäologie der Gräberfelder der Region Qau-Matmar in der Ersten Zwischenzeit”, in: Problems and Priorities in Egyptian Archaeology, J. Assmann, V. Davies, eds., (London, 1987), 175–217; K.J. Seyfried, “Dienstpflicht mit Selbstversorgung. Die Diener des Verstorbenen im Alten Reich”, in: H. Guksch, E. Hoffmann, M. Bommas, Grab und Totenkult im alten Ägypten (München, 2003), 41–59.

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the subordinates buried around the provincial overlords seem to have been predominantly male.50 Administrative Aspects On the preceding pages, I have used a variety of somewhat non-committal terms to refer to the highest provincial elite, designating them not by their titles, but, as in the previous sentence, as ‘provincial overlords’, or similarly. One reason for this is the ‘bottom-up’ approach of this chapter, which considers the rural social network as being based to a probably large extent on informal, local bonds beside the administrative structure. Another reason is that there are real problems with the way provincial rulers are usually referred to by Egyptologists, who, faced with a heterogeneous set of designations in the sources, have imposed a kind of order upon the evidence that seems to evaporate once things are looked at more closely. In this section I will argue that the inconsistency in the way administrators are referred to in the texts may simultaneously reflect two features of the basic data. The first is that the evidence itself may, owing to its inevitably fragmentary nature, be so lacunous that the patterns that seem to emerge may distort rather than reflect the original state of affairs. This has the important implication that reconstructions are only viable if there is really a substantial amount of source material. We will see that many accepted ideas are based on arguments that do not meet this basic requirement. The second factor is that, by trying to bring order into the somewhat chaotic sources, scholarship may unwittingly have built interpretative models that are more ‘systematic’ than the reality may have been. It is in the nature of historical or archaeological research that generalizations are based on samples of which it may be near impossible to assess how representative they are. I am not objecting to this inevitable approach as such, but I would recommend an analysis that also leaves room for the possibility that the administrative structure of rural Egypt may to a degree have reflected the regional fragmentation that we have discussed above. This means that the administration may have been more haphazardly organized than is usually admitted.

 H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 110–113.

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Two terms that can no longer be avoided using now are “nome” and “nomarch”. The former term is usually understood as meaning something that comes close to what we would call a “province”, while the “nomarchs” are those in charge of these realms as provincial governors. These concepts seem clear, but matters become highly confusing when we try to define which people qualified as nomarchs. Looking at the literature, it becomes clear that this term is used rather loosely with reference to people referred to in the texts as, for instance: ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n X “great chief of Nome X”; ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ (an elusive term meaning literally “foremost of position”; I often translate it as “baron”, in full awareness that this rendering is as unsatisfactory as others that have been proposed. At any rate, for reasons to be explained below, I emphatically wish to avoid the general label “mayor” for this term); ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr “baron, overseer of priests”; ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr “baron, overseer of the temple”; ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n X “baron of town X”. In this case it seems likely that the rendering “mayor” may be appropriate. The idea that this term designates a “nomarch” is also encountered.51

Moreover, terms with an originally different meaning, like the titles of a vizier, are sometimes believed to be honorific titles that do not “mean” “nomarch”, but that nevertheless can be given to one to bolster his status. If we call all these people “nomarchs”, then it should be clear that we are not giving priority to the title differentiation made by the Egyptians themselves, but that we are deploying a modern blanket term covering a class of officials with widely varying titles. I think that it is in fact useful to deploy the word “nomarch” in this sense. The difficulty to explicitly link these titles to nomes has, however, also led to a very different reading of the evidence that was introduced by W. Helck, and that still has many adherents. He enfolded his theories in his Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (PdÄ 3; Leiden, 1958). Although all aspects of the administration are covered in this work, it, at first somewhat surprisingly, does not contain a chapter on the nomarchs. On looking closer it appears that the officials often thus designated feature in the

  M. Pardey, s.v. “Administration: provincial administration”, OEAE I, 18–19.

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chapter on “die Verwaltung der Stadtbezirke”.52 This points to a core element in Helck’s reasoning: according to him the “nomes” were in the Middle Kingdom just an anachronism, and in reality the regional centres of administration were the towns. Since this hypothesis is still very widely accepted it is important to investigate in somewhat greater detail what are the arguments underlying it. To follow the drift of the story, a brief glance at Helck’s views on the evolution of the administration since the Old Kingdom is in order. According to him the “nomarchs” would have emerged as early as the 4th dynasty, a difference being made in the texts between “nomarchs” from Lower Egypt (called ʿḏ mr) and Upper Egypt (called sšm t¡).53 The present author has argued, however, that evidence to understand ʿḏ mr and sšm-t¡ as designating “nomarchs” is flimsy, at least if this term is meant to designate an official with overall responsibility for an entire nome.54 Helck must, however, be given credence when he states that “nomarchs” were in existence as of the late 5th dynasty, for at that time, a new class of officials called ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t (in the southernmost nomes of Upper Egypt) or ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NAME OF NOME (in areas further north) emerges (“Great chief of the nome/of nome X”). Being a title that was invented in connection with an administrative reform, it is probably justified to assume that at least at that time a literal translation of the term corresponded to what it meant as an administrative reality. This means that these people were really “great chiefs” of a nome. Accordingly, Egyptologists agree across the board that in the late 5th and 6th dynasties, this title designated a nomarch.55 For the 52   W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (PdÄ 3; Leiden, 1958), 194–245. 53   W. Helck, Verwaltung, 196–199. This account already offers a splendid example of the eclectic use Helck makes of his sources. In order to reconstruct the origin of the role of the ʿḏ mr early in the Old Kingdom, when these officials, as we have seen, were characteristic for Lower Egypt, he uses an inscription from the tomb of Djehutihotep in Dayr al-Barshā (in Upper Egypt and dated over half a millennium later). On this peculiar basis, he argues that these officials were originally in charge of “Stapelplätze” where the produce of the royal domains in the regions were collected for shipment to the residence. The basis for Helck’s far-reaching inferences are not only restricted to just a single text from the wrong time and place, but also on a probably incorrect interpretation of this document (see H. Willems, Chr. Peeters, G. Verstraeten, “Where did Djehutihotep Erect his Colossal Statue?”, ZÄS 132 [2005], 173–175). 54  H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie. Éléments d’une histoire culturelle du Moyen Empire égyptien (Paris, 2008), 27–28. Note that, in the inscriptions of Metjen, the title ʿd̠-mr is associated not only with nomes, but also with towns (Urk. I, pp. 3, 9). 55  Helck, Verwaltung, 199–202; Martin-Pardey, Untersuchungen zur Provinzialverwaltung bis zum Ende des Alten Reiches (HÄB 1; Hildesheim, 1976), p. 111 ff.; etc.



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same reason, the word is, for the first time in this chapter, not written between inverted commas. Helck also discusses another class of officials: the “overseers of priests” (ἰm.y.w-r ḥ m.w-nṯr). He argues that these people were originally subordinate to the “great chiefs,” but that their power rapidly increased as the state exempted the temples from certain obligations and payments. As a result, they gradually became players at the same level as the nomarchs, and in some nomes, where no “great chiefs” are attested, the overseers of priests are argued to have usurped the power of the former.56 Since the ἰm.y.w-r ḥ m.w-nṯr thus also have power on the provincial level, Helck claims that “die Gaufürsten des ausgehenden Alten Reiches einzuteilen sind in ‘weltliche’ und ‘geistliche’ Herren, je nachdem, ob ihre Macht auf der alten Stellung als ‘Grosses Oberhaupt’ oder der als ‘Prophetenvorsteher’ am Haupttempel der Gaumetropole aufbaut”.57 Elements in this account are open to criticism,58 but the fact that the two titles referred to officials with a strongly comparable authority within the nome seems consistent with the late Old Kingdom evidence. This is further underscored by the fact that several officials now have the combined title string ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. With Helck, I would therefore argue that all these officials deserve being understood as rulers of a nome.59 In the Middle Kingdom, the situation seems to me to be very similar,60 as, in that period also, there are ḥ r.y.w-tp ʿ¡ n NOME, ἰm.yw-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, and people with the title combination ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME + ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. But although Helck

56  Helck, Verwaltung, 200–201. For a more realistic account of the evolving relationships between temple and state administration, see R. Bussmann, Die Provinz­ tempel Ägyptens von der 0. bis zur 11. Dynastie. Archäologie und Geschichte einer gesellschaftlichen Institution zwischen Residenz und Provinz (PdÄ 30; Leiden, Boston, 2010), 503–513. 57  Helck, Verwaltung, 202. 58   Thus, the only source cited by Helck in support of his contention that the overseers of priests originally stood under the authority of a “great chief of a nome” (Urk. I, p. 102) states nothing of the kind. Also, the tendency perceived by Helck towards a gradual increase in temple exemptions is far from clear. While there are admittedly more royal decrees referring to exemptions in the late Old Kingdom (8th Dynasty), this is largely the result of a single find: the Koptos decrees. 59  Or rather: that this could be the case. As Moreno García has argued, there are also cases where the two kinds of officials were simultaneously in function. An instance is the case of the 14th Upper Egyptian nome, where the nomarchs were buried in Mīr, and the priests in Qusṣ ạ yr al-Amārina (z.B. Martin-Pardey, Provinzialverwaltung, 123–125). 60  Similarly R. Bussmann, loc. cit.

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acknowledges this state of affairs in the documentation, he interprets this evidence very differently for the Middle Kingdom. This has to do with his inclination to assume that, as time went by, officials increasingly claimed titles that did not correspond to their actual tasks. He explains this phenomenon as follows. When a local ruler for instance ‘usurps’ the title string of a vizier, this does not mean he has assumed the functions of a vizier, but that he is no longer hierarchically subordinate to one. In this way, a single title can be read at two levels: either it is a functional title, indicating real responsibilities and tasks, or it is merely an honorific rank title. This kind of reasoning characterizes not only Helck’s interpretation of the vizier’s title, but also his views on, for instance, the functional title ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME which became a kind of rank title, or the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, where Helck in some cases perceives an opposite development from a rank title to a functional title. This reading of the evidence introduces an enormous element of randomness in his analysis. This becomes clear in his discussion of the provincial administration in the First Intermediate Period, when he rightly observes tendencies towards fragmentation of nomes into smaller entities. For instance, in several cases towns are now led by generals and other big men. From this, Helck deduces that nomes everywhere gradually lost their administrative importance to towns. Thus, he argues for example that statements in the autobiography of Ankhtifi, to the effect that he was a “great chief ” of the second and third Upper Egyptian nomes, cannot be taken seriously. Rather, Ankhtifi would have been a representative of a new category of leaders of one or more settlements, probably originally ‘generals’, who made themselves independent by usurping the title of ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t,61 much like others had taken on the style of a vizier. However, there is no clear indication whatsoever in the Ankhtifi texts that this title should no longer be understood as designating a nomarch. The fact that his autobiography mentions his power over several settlements in no way constitutes a counterargument: there is nothing unusual about a nomarch having supremacy over the settlements within his nome.62  Helck, Verwaltung, 204–206.   The remaining indications mustered by Helck are likewise inconclusive. Thus, when a man in stela Cairo 1759 declares to have served ḥr.y-tp 7 “7 great chiefs”, this is understood by him as referring to overseers of priests. It is not clear why this interpretation, which moreover is uncertain, would imply that the term ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n 61 62



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In the remainder of Helck’s account, the completely unsubstantiated idea that settlements became the real administrative units to the detriment of the nomes is taken as the point of departure for the situation in the Middle Kingdom as well. He asserts that the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, which had been a rank title under the Old Kingdom, is now taken over by “königliche Stadtkommandanten . . . in der betreffenden Stadt”.63 The alleged military background of these officials rests on only a single source in Helck’s evidence, which states about a man called Sebeky that “his Majesty gave this town to him as a ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ and as a general.”64 The fact that a man with the two (textually separate) titles of ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ and general is here related to a town is sufficient for Helck to draw a whole series of mostly implicit conclusions: 1) The title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ is a military title. This is unconvincing, because the link to a military function is made explicit in the text just cited by another title: ἰm.y-r mšʿ. Following the same reasoning, the very many instances where ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ is connected with the priestly title ἰm.y-r ḥ m.wnṯr should be taken as implying that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ designated a religious office. As far as I know, no-one has ever made this implausible suggestion; but then there is no reason either to assume that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ designated the commander of a town garrison.65 2) The title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, when used with regard to a man with authority over a town, is identical with the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM, “baron of a town” = “mayor”. This latter title does occur with reference to some local rulers in the Banī Ḥ asan tombs.66 More examples can be found, but as will be shown below the title is not of very common occurrence in the earlier Middle Kingdom. However, it does occur very frequently in the New Kingdom. One of the most impressive sources is the text of the “Duties of the Vizier” in the tomb of Rekhmire and other tombs at Thebes. The known sources date between the reigns of Thuthmosis III and Ramses II, but Helck believes it to be a verbatim copy of a text

sp¡.t would no longer mean “nomarch”. Counterarguments are: 1) the cited text does not refer to a ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t, but only refers in a classificatory sense to ḥ r.y.w-tp. It is possible, but by no means certain, that this has the same meaning. 2) If it does, then it would still be possible that the Theban nomarchs followed one after another in rapid succession. 3) The immediate context is damaged. 63   W. Helck, Verwaltung, p. 208. 64  Stela München 22 (Dyroff, Pörtner, Süddeutsche Sammlungen II, pl. III, no. 4). 65   W. Helck, Verwaltung, p. 208. 66  Loc. cit.

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from the 13th dynasty.67 By dating the text back to the Middle Kingdom, Helck not only significantly raises the number of attestations of the title in that period, but also adds a document that lists a very large amount of “mayors” in geographical order. This suggests to him that the whole, or at least a major part of Upper Egypt was parceled up in territories led by “mayors” called ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM. This point is so crucial to Helck’s hypotheses that the issue of the date of the “Duties” must be dealt with in some detail. Helck’s case has been severely criticized by G.P.F. van den Boorn. Mustering a host of grammatical, lexicographical and historical indications, he argued that Helck’s redating of the ‘Duties’ to the Middle Kingdom is groundless, and that the text is rooted in the period whence the known versions derive: the early New Kingdom.68 However, J.M. Kruchten’s review of van den Boorn’s book has shown that several features the latter considered as “NK signatures” should be taken with a grain of salt. He considers the “Duties” rather as a potpourri of statements dating mostly from the Middle Kingdom, but also from later points in time.69 Building upon this criticism, E. Pardey added further indications for a Middle Kingdom origin. Most notably, she argued that the “Duties” use the geographical term tp-rs.y with reference to the southernmost nomes of Upper Egypt, as part of the realm of authority of the vizier. Arguing that “Head of the South” in the New Kingdom no longer refers to this part of Egypt, but rather to Lower Nubia, which was ruled by the King’s Son of Kush instead of the vizier, this would mean that the text must have been written in the Middle Kingdom.70   W. Helck, Verwaltung, pp. 212–218.  G.P.F. van den Boorn, “On the Date of the ‘The Duties of the Vizier’ ”, Or. 51 (1982), 369–381; Id., The Duties of the Vizier. On the Internal Government of Egypt in the Early New Kingdom (London, New York, 1991), pp. 333–376. Van den Boorn’s account has been accepted by many authors. 69   J.-M. Kruchten, BiOr 48 (1991), 827–829. 70  E. Pardey, “Die Datierung der ‘Dienstanweisung für den Wesir’ und die Problematik von Tp rsj im Neuen Reich”, in: N. Kloth, K. Martin, E. Pardey (eds.), Es werde niedergelegt als Schriftstück. Festschrift für Hartwig Altenmüller zum 65. Geburtstag (BSAK 9; Hamburg, 2003), 323–334. A late Middle Kingdom date of the “Duties” is also taken for granted by S. Quirke (Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC [GHP Egyptology 1; London, 2004], 18–24; 85) who, however, cites only few arguments, which; moreover, are not all apt; the titles he considers typical for the Middle Kingdom (p. 23) are for the most part still attested on the late Second Intermediate Period “stèle juridique” (P. Lacau, Une stèle juridique de Karnak [Supplément ASAE 13; Cairo, 1949]). 67 68



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We agree that van den Boorn’s late dating cannot be considered certain, but it should be noted that his stand is in fact more nuanced than most of his critics believe. For he does accept that the text was probably “a conflation of MK written and early NK oral sources”. Therefore the occurrence of Middle Kingdom elements in the text do not in themselves discredit his hypothesis. Moreover, Pardey’s arguments are not at all compelling. In fact, with one exception from the tomb of Puyemre, all her sources have in the past been interpreted as implying that Tp-rs.y in the New Kingdom had the same meaning as in the Middle Kingdom. This reading of the evidence seems preferable to the present author also.71 Another argument that has been marshaled in support of an attribution of the “Duties” to the Middle Kingdom, and in particular also the list of ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ in the text, is that the inscription includes the toponym Wah-sut.72 It should be noted that, until Wegner’s excavations there began, it was assumed that the site we now know was Wah-sut dates to the New Kingdom, and its excavator has shown it was still functional

71  Pardey’s key source is Urk. IV, 79,17–81,4. This is a copy of the letter informing Turoy, a king’s son (of Kush?) and overseer of the southern foreign lands, of the royal style of the newly crowned king Thuthmosis I. Turoy is asked to present offerings in the name of the new king and also bring offerings n nt̠r.w Tp-rs.y ¡bw. Pardey understands this as meaning “to the gods of ‘the Head of the South’ and of Elephantine”. This reading would imply that Elephantine lay outside “the Head of the South”, and that this latter region, belonging to the area governed by Turoy, can only designate Lower Nubia. The fact that this would have been the case early in the 18th dynasty would rule out the possibility that the “Duties” (which imply a different administrative reality) date to the same period. However, the text nowhere states that that Turoy ruled “the Head of the South”, and the traditional reading of the relevant passage as “to the gods of Elephantine in “the Head of the South’ ” is likewise possible. If Turoy is urged to present offerings to these deities this may merely mean that he came from his area of jurisdiction to honour them outside it in Elephantine. This might be a ritual way of underscoring how wealth from the Lower Nubian colonies was channeled to Egypt. It would stand to reason that the transfer of such goods (and of the offerings representing them) would take place at the Nubian-Egyptian border, i.e. in Elephantine. Moreover, it is known that the religious festivities for Satet at Elephantine were in the New Kingdom attended by very high officials from different parts of Egypt (witness the graffiti at Hassawanarti; see S.J. Seidlmayer, “Landschaft und Religion—die Region von Aswân”, Archäologischer Anzeiger 2006, 223–235). Turoy may have joined these festivities, bringing offerings along from Nubia. The fact that he left his own area of jurisdiction in Nubia, entering “the Head of the South” standing under the jurisdiction of the vizier, may explain the explicit wording “Elephantine in ‘the Head of the South’ ” in Urk. I, 80,15. 72   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Middle Kingdom (London, 2009), 16; 109.

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then, even though it had been founded earlier. There is no reason to discredit its occurrence in a New Kingdom town list, therefore.73 In this connection, D. Polz’s recent study on the late Second Intermediate Period and early New Kingdom must also be considered. He shows that the documentation for the 17th dynasty yields no evidence whatsoever for the presence of a vizier. According to Polz this is a strong indication that the administrative structure in this period underwent a momentous change, the tasks of the vizier being taken over by other officials. This hypothesis suggests that the late Middle Kingdom administrative structure did not survive intact uninterruptedly into the early New Kingdom. However, the vizierate was obviously reinstated in the reign of Thuthmosis III. This development may in fact be a reason why the office holders of this period included the “Duties” in their tombs. One might see an argument here in support of the early date of the text, but as Polz already states in his study, this is not compelling.74 It is of course equally possible that, when the position of vizier was created anew, it was entirely or to a large extent patterned on the Middle Kingdom function. At any rate, considering that the vizierate of this time was in fact the result of an administrative innovation, it seems likely that the image drawn of this office reflects at least elements of contemporary practice. By way of conclusion, Pardey’s view that the “Duties” coherently describes the administrative system of the Middle Kingdom is as uncertain as van den Boorn’s early New Kingdom date. Considering that even Pardey has to admit that the introduction of the “Duties” is not of Middle Kingdom date, it seems best to us to steer a middle course as was suggested already by Kruchten. In any case, even if the “Duties”, or a major part of it, would date back to the Middle Kingdom, there is no certainty that no changes at all were made in the course of its later transmission in the early New Kingdom.75 And 73   J. Wegner has thoroughly analyzed the evidence without being able to decide on the time frame of the use of the toponym Wah-sut (The Mortuary Temple of Senwosret III at Abydos [New Haven, Philadelphia, 2007], 29–32). 74   For all preceding remarks, see D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches. Zur Vorgeschichte einer Zeitenwende (DAI Sonderschrift 31; Berlin, New York, 2007), 306–307 and passim. 75   This is demonstrated in an impressive way by ostracon MANT 292600, recently discovered in the tomb of Amenemope (TT29); see P. Tallet, “Un nouveau témoin des “Devoirs du vizir” dans la tombe d’Aménémopé (Thèbes, TT29)”, CdE 80 (2005), 66–75. This new source, which was apparently used for the decoration of the version of the “Duties” in the TT29 itself, differs from other known versions of the preserved passages.



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it cannot be ruled out that the mayoral titles that are our primary concern are among these later additions. Moreover, even if we would accept Helck’s 13th dynasty date of the “Duties”, this would place its composition after the administrative reforms carried through at the end of the 12th dynasty.76 Therefore it is not so clear that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM was really a common title under the 11th and 12th dynasties, which concern us in this chapter. And Helck does not adduce very numerous arguments to the contrary. While it must be admitted that the title occurred in the Middle Kingdom, it was far less widespread than he suggested. 3) While admitting that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ could also be a rank title, as it had been in the Old Kingdom, Helck also finds cases where it appears immediately in front of the name of the official, “dort, wo im Mittleren und Neuen Reich der wichtigste Amtstitel zu stehen pflegte”.77 Thus, the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ was a rank title, but became a functional title when written immediately in front of the name; and the function it then referred to was that of a ‘mayor’. Helck presents his case in the form of apodictic statements, but this is clearly not enough. The only way to show that the principle could have been at work would be to carry out a quantitative analysis of the evidence, something that, half a century later, has still not been undertaken. It should moreover be shown that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ could only be an abbreviation for ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM, but not for other combinations headed by ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ. Since Helck does not even attempt to prove his case, the theory goes without support. The same

 E.g. S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom. The Hieratic Documents (New Malden, 1990), 2–5. In the same author’s Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC (GHP Egyptology 1; London, 2004), 8–9, it is stressed that the titles attested as of the latter half of the reign of Senwosret III differ from what Quirke terms the ‘early Middle Kingdom’. However, he leaves room for the possibility that the same underlying administrative system might already have existed earlier and have persisted after the late Middle Kingdom without leaving many traces in the written record. I have argued the same for some more modest titles in the administrative spectrum (Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, p. 94). In this case a change in decorum is likely (persons of relatively lowly status also erecting inscribed funerary monuments in the late Middle Kingdom). But I find it most implausible that the same would hold true of administrators of high rank. These people mention many titles in their tombs and other documents, and the fact that these differ so markedly from those of the late Middle Kingdom is unlikely to reflect anything but a thorough change in administrative practice. Quite apart from this, it should be noted that the list of mayors in the tomb of Rekhmire is not part of the ‘Duties.’ Therefore, even acceptance of Helck’s proposed dating for this text is irrelevant for the mayor list. 77   W. Helck, Verwaltung, p. 209. 76

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holds true of other analyses, in which, until very recently, the same criterion was used.78 4) Based on the arguments discussed under 2) and 3), Helck goes on to argue that another important title string in which the element ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ occurs, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, also designates a mayor.79 Again, the case is presented in the form of categoric statements: Im allgemeinen tragen aber die Kommandanten der Städte zu Beginn des Mittleren Reiches die Titel ḥ ¡.tj-ʿ und den des Prophetenvorstehers des Stadttempels. Es ist nachdrücklich darauf hinzuweisen, dass die Ähnlichkeit der Titulatur dieser Stadtverwalter in der 12. Dynastie mit der der Stadtverwalter der 1. Zwischenzeit keine Identität bedeutet. Denn in der 1. Zwischenzeit beruht die Macht der Stadtherren, wie wir sahen, auf ihrer Stellung als “Grosses Oberhaupt” oder als Prophetenvorsteher, während der Titel ḥ¡tj-ʿ allein ein Rangtitel ist, der fehlen kann oder sich auch in der Zusammenstellung rpʿ.t ḥ ¡.tj-ʿ findet. Jetzt, in der 12. Dynastie ist ḥ ¡.tj-ʿ ein Amtstitel eines königlichen Stadtbeamten, der daneben Amt und Einkünfte eines Prophetenvorstehers besitzt.80

Considering the criticism leveled under 2) and 3) this account is far from compelling. Also, it once more introduces a strong element of randomness, for the decision whether to understand the title string ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr as designating a nomarch or a mayor rests on acceptance of Helck’s intuition, not on clear cut and verifiable criteria in the texts themselves. 5) The considerations discussed before finally lead to a reappraisal of titles of the type ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME in the Middle Kingdom. These officials often also include ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ in their title string. In Helck’s perception, this can only mean ‘mayor’. That the “great chief ”-title is nevertheless retained is ‘explained’ in the following terms:

78   Thus in e.g. A. Gasse, “Amény, un porte-parole sous le règne de Sésotris Ier”, BIFAO 88 (1988), 90; S. Quirke, Titles and bureaux, 111–112; D. Franke, “The Career of Khnumhotep III. of Beni Hasan and the So-Called ‘Decline of the Nomarchs’ ”, in: Middle Kingdom Studies, S. Quirke, ed. (New Malden, 1991), 52–55; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches. Prosopographie, Titel und Titelreihen (Achet A2; Berlin, 2003). For a case where the adoption of Helck’s criteria evidently leads us astray, see H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 100–109. 79   W. Helck, Verwaltung, 210–211. Note that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ in this case does not precede directly the name of the office holder, but is nevertheless interpreted as a functional title, thus violating the ‘rule’ Helck had just formulated. 80   W. Helck, Verwaltung, 211.



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Sofern diese81 an die Tradition der ‘Gaufürsten’ anknüpfen konnten, legten sie sich noch den Titel eines ‘Grossen Oberhauptes’ bei, der aber nur eine historizierende Bezeichnung darstellt und kein Amts- oder Rangtitel ist.82

Without offering any justification, a very common title is thus done away with as a piece of snobbery. It will have become clear that I find the whole story as presented by Helck not in the least convincing. But the matter has not been reinvestigated in detail since 1958, and important elements of his theory are still widely subscribed to. The aspect to be most generally accepted is that the titles ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr and ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr all refer to mayors.83 Also, many authors still agree that towns in the Middle Kingdom formed the basis of regional administration.84 Since no new arguments have been brought forward by the pertinent authors, the above criticism of Helck is directly relevant to current views on the problem. What is most disturbing in Helck’s account is that (series of ) Middle Kingdom titles that are formally identical to Old Kingdom titles and title strings are interpreted completely differently without verifiable arguments. I would propose to follow the more straightforward course of assuming that identical titles should be interpreted in identical fashion unless clear reasons can be mustered for not doing so. It will appear that this still leaves room for chronological and regional variation, but of an altogether different kind. As a starting point I propose to base an analysis on the difference between rank titles and functional titles, which seems to be fairly generally accepted.85  I.e. the “mayors”.   W. Helck, Verwaltung, 210; still Id., “Titel und Titulaturen”, LÄ VI, 600. 83  It should be noted that Helck does not address the issue of the latter title, but it is found with other authors. Probably the assumption that this also is a mayor rests on the resemblance to the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. 84  E.g. L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel in Politik und Verwaltung des frühen Mittleren Reiches (GOF IV,18; Wiesbaden, 1987), 135–144; D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib auf Elephantine. Geschichte eines Provinzheiligtums im Mittleren Reich (SAGA 9; Heidelberg, 1994), 11; E. Pardey, in: OEAE I, 18; Idem, s.v. nome structure, in EAAE, 573–574; B. Haring, “Administration and Law: Pharaonic”, in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt I, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (Chichester, 2010), p. 225; L. Morenz, Die Zeit der Regionen im Spiegel der Gebelein-Region. Kulturgeschichtliche Re-Konstruktionen (PdÄ, 27; Leiden, Boston, 2010), 35, 558”; P. Andrassy, “Ein Archiv von Wirtschaftstesten auf kalottenförmigen Trinknäpfen des Mittleren Reiches. Ein Vorbericht”, in: Forschungen in der Papyrussammlung? Eine Festgabe für das Neue Museum, V. Lepper, ed. (Berlin, 2012), 35. 85   The distinction goes back to K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom. The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties (Chicago, 81 82

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Rank titles are designations that do not describe a profession, but a rank, and that are to an extent honorific. Thus, people in different branches of the administration can receive similar sets of rank titles to indicate their status. There are many such titles, but we will here confine ourselves to the most characteristic ones. In order of descending rank, they are ἰr.y-pʿ.t, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty, smḥ r-wʿ.ty. These titles are often additive. Hence, when a smḥ r-wʿ.ty acquires the higher rank title ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty, he becomes a ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r-wʿ.ty. Higher order title strings are ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r wʿ.ty and ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm. ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r wʿ.ty. Among these titles, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ seems to be used also in somewhat more liberal ways. Thus, in the Story of the Shipwrecked Sailor (line 2), it is a polite title of address. Elsewhere the plural ḥ ¡. ty.w-ʿ is used for the whole class of regional rulers, for instance when a nomarch claims he was “foremost among the ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ”.86 Obviously, in such cases referring to all possible titles members of this official class might bear, was undoable, and ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ was used instead as a blanket term. The same classificatory use is probably at stake when persons characterize themselves as a s¡(.t)-ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, a designation which in practice always refers to children of provincial rulers.87 Here as well the mention of full title strings would be impractical. As Helck has argued, the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ could further be an abbreviation for a longer designation. He only accepts this possibility for the mayoral title ḥ ¡. ty-ʿ n TOPONYM, however without considering the possibility that it could also be an abbreviation for, for instance, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r wʿ.ty, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, or ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr, or other title strings dependent on ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ. In my view this possibility is, however, very real. Functional titles are titles that explain what kind of work a person did. Thus there is little reason to doubt that an ἰm.y-r rḫ t.y.w “overseer of washermen” was in charge of washermen, or that an ἰm.y-r mšʿ “overseer of the army” was a general. By analogy, it seems quite likely that a person designated as ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr was in charge of temple

1960); see for an recent author adhering to the same distinction W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Middle Kingdom (London, 2009), 5–7. 86  E.g. Hatnub Gr. 16,1 (R. Anthes, Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub [AGAÄ 9; Leipzig, 1928], 35). 87  On the bibliography concerning this designation, see H. Willems, “The Nomarchs of the Hare Nome and Early Middle Kingdom History”, JEOL 28 (1983–1984), 83, n. 27.



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staff. A similar case is the nomarch title introduced in the late 6th dynasty: ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t. It is rare to find persons being designated exclusively by functional titles. More often than not, such people would also have one or more rank titles, for instance ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r wʿ.ty ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t or ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. In principle the difference between rank titles and functional titles is clear, but tendencies can also be observed leading to a functional title losing its original meaning, and developing into a rank title. This is very likely for many early dynastic titles, which once probably had a very practical range of application, but that, in the different world of the Middle Kingdom, had fossilized into an honorary epithet. An instance is the title ἰr.y-Nḫ n, which, literally translated, means “the one attached to Hierakonpolis”. It seems likely that this title had once designated a person in charge of Hierakonpolis, but that by the Middle Kingdom this significance was no longer relevant. That this possibility exists should not be denied, and therefore it is conceivable that such changes of meaning also occurred with the titles that concern us here. However, it should be demonstrated in each individual case that the principle of ‘title devaluation’ is at work before it can be accepted. The case of the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM deserves being discussed in greater detail. It is obviously based on the rank title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ. That does not imply, of course, that ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOPONYM is also a rank title. Here the element ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ is merely an element in a newly created compound term, being placed in a genitive relationship with the name of a town. This creates a new functional title in its own right. Room for confusion only emerges when this title is abbreviated into ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, for now no formal difference is visible between the rank title and the functional title. This is a pity, but problems of this kind are not unusual. Something similar can happen, for instance, when a simple draughtsman (in Egyptian sš ḳd) abbreviates his title into sš, leading to possible confusion with the title sš “scribe”, which usually designates a person of far higher rank. Although the last observation introduces an element of ambiguity, in general I think it consistent with the evidence that a ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME in the Middle Kingdom was primarily responsible for a nome; that an ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr was an overseer of priests, an ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr an overseer of a temple,88 and a ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN a mayor. If   The difference with the previous title is not clear to me.

88

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these people chose to indicate their rank titles beside the functional titles mentioned before, elements like ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ or ἰr.y pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ could be placed in front. No case of this is known to me of *ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN, but this may reflect the fact that placement of the same words twice in a row was considered redundant, or that a ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN was automatically considered as belonging to the ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ class. In fact, the creation of the title type ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN is unlikely to have taken place if the latter situation would not have prevailed. As Helck had already suggested for the Old Kingdom, this reading of the evidence implies that, in the Middle Kingdom as well, local officials could rise to a locally prominent position either because they were appointed nomarch ([ἰr.y-pʿ.t] ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME), or because they headed important temples in the region (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr; ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr), while in some cases, a kind of fusion could come about, leading to combined titles like ἰr.y pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w nṯr.89 This suggests a variable situation, in which the titles actually borne by an official probably reflected the local balance of power. Therefore, although nomarchs in the strict sense of the word (ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME) existed through much of the Middle Kingdom (see below), this was not the only possible designation of a person who, in practice, functioned as the head of a region. Since these titles reflect the roots of power of the official in question (temple administrator or state official), it also seems possible that people with the same titles could wield different amounts of power. While a “great chief of a nome” is likely to have always been a very high official appointed by the king and entrusted with regional responsibilities, “overseers of priests”90 are likely to have been in office not only in large temples with large holdings, but also in far smaller temples. In the latter case, the title of the person in charge may still have been (ḥ ¡.

89   The latter was the case, for instance, for some of the nomarchs buried at Dayr al-Barshā (P.E. Newberry, El Bersheh I [London, 1895], pl. VI and passim; F. Ll. Griffith, P.E. Newberry, El Bersheh II [London, 1895], pl. VI; XIII; R. Anthes, Die Felseninschriften von Hatnub [UGAÄ 9; Leipzig, 1928], Gr. 11; 12; 14; 15; 16; 19; 20; 21; 22; 25; 28; note that, in some cases [e.g. Gr. 26 and 32], this long title string is abbreviated into ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ). 90  Although I do not feel certain on this point, it seems possible that the “overseer of priests” derived his power from an important local office which might not be due to royal appointment, whereas a ‘great chief of a nome’ might always be a royal appointee.



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ty-ʿ) ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, but his effective power may have been relatively small.91 This implies that the title may have covered an identical kind of function, but one resulting in practice in very different degrees of power. Stated differently, the titles tell us something about the administrative structure, but not necessarily about the effective power division on a local level. Since the titles tell us only part of the story, and since the living environment of the provincial administrators is usually unknown, the major source of information is their tombs. It needs not be stressed that these can offer only indirect indications, but the picture is nevertheless suggestive. Through the Middle Kingdom, very large rock tombs were built for local officials in Middle Egypt and occasionally elsewhere. For the Old Kingdom, it has been statistically shown that the highest provincial administrators also had the largest tombs in rural areas.92 For the Middle Kingdom, such a list could also be drawn up. It would contain the large rock-cut tombs in the Qubbat al-Hawā’,93 some in Qāw al-Kabīr,94 Dayr Rīfa,95

91   Note that occasional examples show that an ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr did not always rise to the rank of a ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, thus in the case of the [smr] wʿ.ty ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr n ’Inpw Ḥ nwt Qāw al-Kabīr (E.M. Ciampini, La sepoltura di Henib (Camera funeraria CGT 7001; pareti di sarcofago CGT 10201–10202) [Catalogo del Museo Egizio di Torino. Serie prima—Monumenti e testi XI; Turin, 2003], 17 and Tav. 11). 92   N. Alexanian, “Social Dimensions of Old Kingdom Mastaba Architecture”, in: L.P. Brock (ed.), Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-first Dynasty. Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Egyptologists Cairo, 2000 II (Cairo, New York, 2003), 88–96. 93  H.W. Müller, Die Felsengräber der Fürsten von Elephantine (Äg.Fo. 9: Glückstadt, Hamburg, Berlin, 1940); see also the inscriptions pertaining to these people in the Heqaib sanctuary at Elephantine: L. Habachi, Elephantine IV. The Sanctuary of Heqaib (AVDAIK 33; Mainz am Rhein, 1985) and D. Franke, Heqaib, 34–49. According to the lists on p. 48–49, officials are attested for the period between Amenemhat I and Neferhotep I. Most bore the title string ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, but two were at the same time also designated as ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n T¡-Sty. For the early history of this line of rulers, see also H. Willems, The Coffin of Heqata (Cairo JdE 36418). A Case Study of Egyptian Funerary Culture of the Early Middle Kingdom (OLA 70; Leuven, 1996), 18–20. 94   H. Steckeweh, Die Fürstengräber von Qâw (Leipzig, 1936); F. Petrie, Antaeopolis. The Tombs of Qau (BSAE 51; London, 1930). For their titles, see W. Grajetzki, “Bemerkungen zu den Bürgermeistern (ḥ¡tj-ʿ) von Qâw al-Kebir im Mittleren Reich”, GM 156 (1997), 55–62; E.M. Ciampini, loc. cit. has expressed some doubts against part of Grajetzki’s analysis of tomb no. 8. The officials buried in Qāw bore the titles ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ and ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. 95   W.M.F. Petrie, Gizeh and Rifeh (BSE 13; London, 1907), 11; F. Ll. Griffith, The Inscriptions of Siût and Dêr Rîfeh (London, 1889), pl. 16–17; P. Montet, “Les tombeaux de Siout et de Deir Rifeh”, Kêmi 3 (1930–1935), 45–111; M.A. Murray, The Tomb of

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Assiūṭ,96 Mīr,97 Dayr al-Barshā,98 Banī Ḥ asan,99 Tihnā al-Jabal,100 and Kawm al-Khalwa (Fayum).101 There are further some scant remains of what is likely to have been a monumental nomarchal tomb from Heliopolis.102 In all these cases these tombs constitute the very largest Two Brothers (Manchester, 1910). In these tombs one encounters the titles ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡. ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smr wʿ.ty ḥry-tp ʿ¡ n Nd̠ft ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr.   96   For recent reconstructions of the line of rulers from Assiūt ̣, see J. Kahl, Ancient Asyut. The First Synthesis after 300 Years of Research (Wiesbaden, 2007), 17 and passim; but most fundamentally M. Zitman, The Necropolis of Assiut. A Case Study of Local Egyptian Funerary Culture from the Old Kingdom to the End of the Middle Kingdom I (OLA 180; Leuven, 2010), 11–43 and passim. In the First Intermediate Period the rulers buried here bore the title string ἰr.y pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥr wʿ.ty ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr and occasionally ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n Nd̠fy.t. In the Middle Kingdom the same situation prevails (the latter title being attested in tombs I and II). Occasionally tomb owners only had the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ. Note that this is primarily the case in tombs which are poorly preserved.   97   For the reconstruction of the line of rulers buried at Mīr, see H. Willems, Chests of Life. A Study of the Typology and Conceptual Development of Middle Kingdom Standard Class Coffins (MVEOL 25; Leiden, 1988), 82–86. Most of the persons buried here bore the titles ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, but Ukhhotep son of Senbi, the owner of tomb B No. 2 is also designated as ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ (A.M. Blackman, Meir II, pl. XII).   98   This line of rulers consistently has the titles (ἰr.y-pʿ.t) ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty bἰ.ty smḥr wʿ.ty ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n Wnw. Frequently they were also designated as viziers. These rulers have been intensively studied by H. Willems, JEOL 28 (1983–1984) [1985], 80–102; Id., Chests of Life, 68–81; Id., Dayr al-Barsha I, 83–113; Id., Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie. Éléments d’une histoire culturelle du Moyen Empire égyptien. Quatre conférences présentées à l’Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes. Section des Sciences religieuses. mai 2006 (Paris, 2008), 67–129 and 184–189. For the date of the early rulers see now L. Gestermann, “Die Datierung der Nomarchen von Hermopolis aus dem frühen Mittleren Reich—eine Phantomdebatte?”, ZÄS 135 (2008), 1–15.   99   For the dating of the rulers of the XVIth Upper Egyptian nome, see H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 49–52, with literature. 100   Akoris. Report of the Excabations at Akoris in Middle Egypt 1981–1992. The Palaeological Association of Japan, Inc. Egyptian Committee (Kyoto, 1995), 27–33; plan on p. 44. Very restricted information exists on the titles of the persons buried here, but the grandeur of their tombs suggests these are nomarch tombs. A nomarch of the seventeenth Upper Egyptian nome is referred to as the father-in-law of Khnumhotep II of Banī Ḥ asan, the latter’s son succeeding the former as ruler of the seventeenth nome (see p. . . . below). Although no title is used in the pertinent passage except ἰr.y pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, the verbal expression hḳ¡ ’Inpw.t “ruling the seventeenth Upper Egyptian nome” suggests that the administration of the nome is being referred to. 101   E. Bresciani, “L’attività archeologica dell’Università di Pisa in Egitto (1981): Fayum, Gurna, Saqqara”, EVO 4 (1981), 1–20; Id., ‘Khelua, l’indagine e le scoperte”, EVO 20–21 (1997–1998), 9–48. These rulers are entitled ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr and, on one occasion, ḥ r.y-tp sḫ .t, probably a variant of the nomarch title ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME (see already H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 53–54). 102   False door and architrave from the tomb of Khety-ankh/Heny at Heliopolis; see W.K. Simpson, “Studies in the Twelfth Dynasty IV: The Early Twelfth Dynasty False Door/Stela of Khety-ankh/Heny from Matariya/Ain Shams (Heliopolis)”, JARCE 38 (2001), 9–20; H. Willems, “The First Intermediate Period and the Middle Kingdom”,



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complexes in large cemeteries in which lower ranking persons were also buried. Clearly, therefore, the large tombs reflect the apex of the local social pyramid. And in all cases, the owners of these tombs bore titles of the type ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME, ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, or ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr, or ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ but, with one exception, never the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN. The exception is Banī Ḥ asan. Here quite a number of officials are known who bore the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n Mnʿ.t-ḫ wἰ=f-wἰ “Mayor of (the town) Menat-Khufu”, and this already since early in the Middle Kingdom.103 The tomb of the last of these officials, the famous Khnumhotep II, is large and beautifully decorated. It can easily compete with the nomarchal tombs of the Middle Kingdom, and it is no doubt for this reason that he is frequently considered a nomarch. Closer inspection reveals, however, that the situation in Banī Ḥ asan is more complex than in most other regions. On the one hand, quite a number of local rulers are designated in their own tombs or in Khnumhotep’s lengthy biography as nomarchs of the (entire) Oryx nome (ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n M¡-ḥ ḏ [mἰ-ḳd=f ]), while others bore the title “Mayor of Menat Khufu”. Possibly Khnumhotep I held both titles, and in this particular case it is likely that he first was a mayor of Menat Khufu only, later to become a nomarch of the entire nome, as was the case with a later official by the name of Nakht.104 It should however be avoided to equate the mayorship of Menat-Khufu with the office of nomarch. The Oryx nome covered the entire east and west banks of the Nile between the Hare nome and the Anubis nome. It was cross-cut from south to north by the Nile. On its west, the floodplain in this part of Egypt is up to some 10 km wide, in the east, the width nowadays rarely reaches more than a couple of hundred metres. Obviously, the centre

in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (Chichester, 2010), 90. M. Zaki, “Une architrave ‘anonyme’ d’Héliopolis”, DE 63 (2005), 85–94 dates the documents to the Second Intermediate Period, but this clearly disregards the art-historical characteristics of the architrave and the false door. The owner of the tomb bore many titles including ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥr wʿ.ty ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n ḥ ḳ¡-ʿnḏ and ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr. The tomb owner was also an “overseer of the Delta” (ἰm.y-r T¡-mḥ .w). 103  L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel in Politik und Verwaltung des frühen Mittleren Reiches in Ägypten (GOF IV,18; Wiesbaden, 1987), 180–189 offers a good overview of the available evidence, although I would interpret the chronology of the some of the early rulers differently; see H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 49–52. 104  Interpreted thus by H. Willems, JEOL 28 (1983–1984), 100–101; L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel, 187.

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of gravity of the nome must have lain in the west, where the capital of Hor-wer was located.105 It stands to reason that the nomarchs of the nome lived here. Menat Khufu lay on the eastern bank of the Nile. The autobiography of Khnumhotep repeatedly details which territory belonged to this city, making clear beyond doubt that it only concerned the narrow strip of land east of the Nile.106 In a territorial sense, the mayors of Menat Khufu were therefore in charge of only a relatively minor part of the nome.107 Despite the splendour of Khnumhotep’s tomb, the mayors of Menat Khufu clearly played a minor role in provincial administration as compared to the nomarch.108 This assumption that mayors held a relatively minor position as compared to nomarchs receives support from two other observations. Firstly, with the exception of some of the mayors buried in Banī Ḥ asan, tombs of the size and style discussed on the preceding pages are never attested for persons only carrying the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN. Secondly, in a few cases it is possible to relate the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN to specific archaeologically known settlements. Several instances are known of ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ of pyramid towns: the mayors of the pyramid towns of

105  D. Kessler; Historische Topographie der Region zwischen Mallawi und Samalut (TAVO B, 30; Wiesbaden, 1981), 129–131. 106  D. Kessler, Historische Topographie, 126–127. 107  L. Gestermann (Kontinuität und Wandel, 180–189) also accepts that the nomarch title is distinct from the title of mayor of Menat Khufu. She believes that it concerns two entirely separate administrative realms. While it is impossible to prove that this is wrong, it is more likely that the nome was a more encompassing entity within which the town of Menat Khufu had its own mayor. This would also explain why some nomarchs held both titles. In one case (that of the nomarch Nakht) it is clear that the mayorship of Menat Khufu was the first step in a career leading to rulership over the entire nome. The same may have been the case with Khnumhotep I, who also had both titles, although here, the chronological sequence is unclear. The fact that some nomarchs stress suzerainty over the nome “in its entirety”, and were buried east of the Nile in Banī Ḥ asan, also explains itself from the assumption that these rulers followed a career in which they first administered only part of the nome (Menat Khufu) and then the entire nome. 108   The obvious wealth of some of the mayors may have had other causes than their role in regional administration. A close distance north of Banī Ḥ asan, there is the mouth of a large Eastern Desert wadi. There are indications that the leaders of Menat Khufu played a prominent part in Eastern Desert trade (witness the mention of troops from Menat Khufu in Wadi Hammamat graffito M1, the important scene depicting Bedouin traders from the Eastern Desert in the tomb of Khnumhotep II, and the fact that Khnumhotep II’s son Khnumhotep III was promoted away in the reign of Senwosret III to the residence, whence he played an important role in expeditions to the Levantine coast).



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Senwosret II (al-Lahūn) and Senwosret III (Dahshūr), or of the town attached to the funerary monument of Senwosret III at Abydos.109 The pyramid town of Senwosret III in Dahshūr has not been found, but those in al-Lahūn and Abydos are known. Abydene seals mention a “house” (pr) of the mayor, and this is no doubt the large estate found there by J. Wegner. The house of the mayor of the pyramid town of Senwosret II must be one of the seven large house compounds there (see pp. 356–358) Here, the fact that seven complexes of very large, but equal size exist, militates against the idea that any of them belonged to a person with overall responsibility of the site as a whole. The house of the mayor of Wah-sut in Abydos closely resembles the large houses in al-Lahūn both in size and shape. This house is the largest of its kind in the settlement, but in size it is closely comparable to those at al-Lahūn. These large complexes have been briefly discussed before, and they are clearly the residences of high officials. However, they are not even remotely comparable in size to the residence of the ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.wnṯr at Tall Basṭā (cf. n. 45). The official residing there clearly belonged to a quite different league from the mayors. The term ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN is further used with reference to the ‘mayor’ of the Nubian fortress of Mirgissa.110 Although here it is less easy to determine where the person in question lived, the well-preserved fortress simply does not contain residences that could compete in size with that in Tall Bastạ̄ .111 The “mayor” of Byblos, for whom evidence appears in the record in the time of Amenemhat III, after the takeover in the Levant by king Senwosret III, is likely to have been similar in design to that residence of the commanders of the Nubian fortresses.112  Senwosret II (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n Ḫ ʿi-S-n-Wsr.t m¡ʿ-ḫ rw: G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals Principally of the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period [Oxford, 1971], n° 1544; 1544a); Senwosret III (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n Ḥ tp-S-n-Wsr.t [Martin, op. cit., n° 442; 732 also entitled ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr]; 1254–1256; 1618); Senwosret III—Abydos (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n W¡ḥ -s.wt-K¡ἰ-k¡.w-Rʿ-m¡ʿ-ḫ rw m ¡bḏw: see J. Wegner, “Excavations at the Town of Enduring-are-the-Places-of-Kakaure-maa-kheru-in-Abydos. A Preliminary Report on the 1994 and 1997 Seasons”, JARCE 35 [1998], 41–43; Id., The Mortuary Temple of Senwosret III at Abydos [Publications of the Pennsylvania-YaleInstitute of Fine Arts/NYU Expedition to Egypt 8; New Haven, Philadephia, 2007], 26 ff. 110  G.T. Martin, Egyptian and Private-Name Seals, no. 1856. 111   The fortress has not been fully excavated. For a plan, see J. Vercoutter, Mirgissa I (Paris, 1970), fig. 38. 112   J.P. Allen, “L’inscription historique de Khnoumhotep à Dahchour”, BSFE 173 (2009), 30; G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 105; 261–263; 810; 1689 (Byblos). 109

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Other chiefs of northern Levantine towns had the same title.113 Some “mayors” ruled towns within Egypt with rather obscure names, which are unlikely to have been very large.114 Yet other mayors led very important towns like Heliopolis115 or Memphis,116 or towns like al-Ashmūnayn117 or Qāw118 that were real provincial capitals. Most of them are attested on scarab seals, a type of object that only became common towards the end of the 12th dynasty.119 At that time, however, nomarchs are no longer in evidence (see below). Although these people are clearly high regional administrators, the administrative context in which they worked seems not to have been the same as that dealt with in this chapter. Summing up the results obtained thus far, it seems clear that Helck’s view must be abandoned, according to which nomarchs had by the Middle Kingdom been replaced by mayors bearing the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ. Contrary to him we believe that nomarchs were a reality until late in the 12th dynasty. They constituted a class of persons sometimes entitled ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME; in this case their administrative powers may have rested primarily on tasks in civil administration. In other provinces the highest official was the director of the main temple there, who bore the title ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. From their power over the temple, these persons derived their supremacy over the nome, although this does not necessarily imply that all ἰm.yw-r ḥ m.w-nṯr were nomarchs. In several cases, the two offices of ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME and ἰm.y-r ḥ m.wnt̠r were combined, as had in fact been the case since the late Old Kingdom. All these officials could bear rank titles. Frequently, the texts precede the functional titles by the rank title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ, often, they could also bear the most prestigious title string ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥr wʿ.ty or similar.

113  M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period (Thirteenth-Seventeenth Dynasties), M. Marée, ed., 163. 114  G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 70 (town named Ršww). 115  G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 637. 116  G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 182. In this case the owner of the seal was also an ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. 117  G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 406. 118  G.T. Martin, op. cit., no. 394 (the owner was also an ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr. Named Wah-ka; he may have been the owners of one of the nomarchal tombs at Qāw); 1159; 1163 (the owner was also an ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr). 119  S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, p. 8 notes that scarab seals are only rarely attested before the reign of Amenemhat III.



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The “mayors” (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN) began to emerge in the Middle Kingdom as well, although (as will be shown below) not to the same degree in all parts of Egypt. In most attested cases they headed settlements that were not identical with traditional nome capitals, in cases where their houses survive, these are significantly smaller than the “nomarch’s” residence in Tall Bastā, and in the case of Banī Ḥ asan their authority extended over only a small part of a nome. This, coupled with the fact that ‘mayors’ were never buried in tombs of nomarchal size (except in Banī Ḥ asan) suggests that the mayors were officials of a much lower rank than the nomarchs. The situation is not so clear as regards the office holders of the type ἰm.y-r ḥ w.t-nṯr. The distinction between this title and ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr requires further study. To the present author it seems that the former of the two titles has a tendency to be associated with ‘mayors’ rather than nomarchs, which could indicate that it likewise designates a person of somewhat lesser stature. Historical Aspects It was argued in the preceding section that the titles or title strings borne by “nomarchs” (in the broad sense of the word) did not change fundamentally between the late Old Kingdom and the end of the nomarchal period in the late 12th dynasty. This means that a title string like ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr in the latter period still had the same general meaning as in the 6th dynasty. Nevertheless this does not imply that the underlying administrative system was completely resistant to change. Rather, it seems that the geographical spread of certain kinds of titles or title strings underwent many changes, and that these reflect major historical events. Different from what might be expected, there never existed a system in which pharaonic Egypt as a whole was parceled up in provincial units headed by nomarchs bearing the same set of titles. In the late 5th and in the 6th dynasty, the introduction of the new class of ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t/NOME led to a considerably more homogeneous administration,120 120   K. Baer, Rank and Title in the Old Kingdom. The Structure of the Egyptian Administration in the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties (Chicago, 1960), 274–284; N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom (London, 1985), 337–346; J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire. Économie, administration et

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but still, officials of this kind were not appointed everywhere. In the First Upper Egyptian nome, their part seems to have been played by officials whose titles emphasize their role in trade expeditions to Nubia rather than in local administration.121 In the Dākhla Oasis, an area that never was designated as a nome, and that for that reason alone could not have a “nomarch”, there were “Chiefs of the Oasis” (ḥ q¡ Wḥ ¡.t) who similarly had tasks both in the local administration and in directing expeditions. In the remainder of Upper Egypt (for Lower Egypt there is hardly any evidence) ḥ r.y.w-tp ʿ¡ n.w sp¡.t/NOME appear in many places, but there are also provinces where a ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.wnṯr is the highest regional official. In the Third, Fifth and Ninth Upper Egyptian nomes, the local importance of these people may have been so great that the appointment of a ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n sp¡.t/NOME was impossible.122 In yet other provinces the local ruler combined the titles of nomarch and overseer of priests. And finally, no provincial governors are known from the northernmost nomes of Middle Egypt. These areas may have been governed directly from Memphis.123 The form the local administration could take thus differed greatly from one place to another. This probably reflects the impact of regional factors such as were discussed earlier in this chapter. It stands to reason that such factors persisted in the First Intermediate Period—an era dubbed “Zeit der Regionen” by L. Morenz124— and as was shown above there is nothing inherently unlikely in the assumption that they continued to manifest themselves in the Middle Kingdom. One possible pointer to regional diversity might arguably be detected in case the capitals of regional chiefs would change places, as this might reflect changes in the regional balance of power. Unfortunately, as has been shown above, the actual settlements where these people lived are only rarely known. It is however remarkable how often nomarchal

organisation territoriale (Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Hautes Études. Sciences historiques et philologiques 337; Paris, 1999), 242–248. 121  One text has been argued to contain an Old Kingdom reference to a nomarch, but this is incorrect (M.S. Müller, “Zum Beleg des Gaufürstentitels im späten Alten Reich auf der Qubbet el-Hawa”, GM 194 [2003], 51–57). 122   J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 252–265; H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 33–35. 123   J.C. Moreno Garcia, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien, 242–248. 124  L. Morenz, Die Zeit der Regionen im Spiegel der Gebelein-Region. Kulturgeschicht­ liche Rekonstruktionen (PdÄ 27; Leiden, 2009).



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cemeteries were relocated sometime between the Old Kingdom and the Middle Kingdom. Instances are the fourteenth and fifteenth Upper Egyptian nomes. In the former, the Old Kingdom nomarch cemetery lay in al-Shaykh Saʿīd, while the Middle Kingdom cemetery (and probably its First Intermediate Period ancestor) lies in Dayr al-Barshā. Although it has always been assumed that the occupants of the tombs in both cemeteries had lived in the town of al-Ashmūnayn, there are now indications that the Old Kingdom nomarchs may have resided not far from al-Shaykh Saīd.125 In the fifteenth nome, the capital originally seems to have been Zawīyat al-Amwāt, but in the Middle Kingdom it lay further south, west of the new cemetery at Banī Ḥ asan.126 A second effect might be recognized in local differences in the administrative titles borne by local administrators. Earlier in this chapter we have already shown that this is in fact the case, pointing to the fact that in some provinces we find administrators of the type ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME, in others of the type ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr, and in yet other cases rulers who combine the two kinds of titles. To this should be added the cases where local rulers might bear the title ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN. Above I have argued that titles of the latter type designate local rulers of a lower class than the former three, which might all be considered ‘nomarchs’ in the broad sense of the word. But there is more to the problem than just a hierarchical difference. In the early First Intermediate Period several nomarchs are attested in the region between Aswān and Abydos. However, when the Theban rulers of the Eleventh Dynasty began to assert themselves as kings after having conquered the southern part of Upper Egypt, evidence for such regional rulers, and for provincial elite cemeteries, suddenly ceases. Simultaneously, the vast Theban residence cemetery at al-Ṭārif emerges. Here were buried the monarchs of the emergent Theban state, but also its high elite.127 The simultaneous disappearance of nomarchs in southern Egypt and the appearance of a vast elite cemetery in Thebes seems to be unmistakable testimony of a conscious policy of the Theban rulers with the intention of imposing a strongly centralized

125   H. Willems, S. Vereecken, L. Kuijper e.a., “An Industrial Site at al-Shaykh Saʿīd/ Wādī Zabayda”, Ä&L 19 (2009), 326. 126  D. Kessler, Historische Topographie, 129 ff. 127   For this cemetery, see D. Arnold, Gräber des Alten und Mittleren Reiches in El Tarif (AVDAIK 23; Mainz am Rhein, 1981).

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state structure on a region that had been, early in the First Intermediate Period, in a state of deep chaos. By contrast, nomarchs seem to have remained in position through the First Intermediate Period in the northern part of the country, which was then ruled by the Heracleopolitan Ninth and Tenth Dynasties. Different from the Thebans, these rulers probably did not impose themselves by force, but perpetuated the administrative system that had emerged in the late Old Kingdom. We here describe only the broad outlines of the development, as the details have been set forth at length elsewhere.128 The crucial point is that the Unification of Egypt early in the reign of the Theban king Mentuhotep II129 did not lead to a greater administrative homogeneity in the country.130 A quantitative comparison of the number of Middle Kingdom ḥ r.y.w-tp ʿ¡ n NOME in southern and northern Egypt suggests that the administrative regimes established under the First Intermediate Period remained in force after the Unification. On the whole nomarchs are of frequent occurrence in what had formerly been the Heracleopolitan kingdom, but they are exceptional in the former Theban realm.131 It is now clear that nomarch families probably remained in charge in Assiūṭ, the Hare nome and the Oryx nome. Evidence in other nomes within the former Heracleopolitan territory is more patchy, but nomarchs are known from several other provinces. While it is uncertain whether real nomarchal dynastic lines prevailed everywhere in this region, it is clear that some families remained uninterruptedly in power even after the the Heracleopolitans had disappeared. In southern Upper Egypt the situation is very different. Apart from the rather obscure case of a person from Hierakonpolis boasting the

128  L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel, 135–144; H. Willems, Chests of Life, 60; D. Franke, Heqaib, 11; H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 38–43. 129  It is now clear that the Unification of Egypt must have taken place before Mentuhotep’s year 13 (L. Gestermann, ZÄS 135 [2008], 10–11). 130   For what follows I refer the reader to H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 48–59. 131   Note that what is at stake is only the disappearance of a class of nome governors, not the disappearance of the nomes proper. There are several texts from the southern part of Egypt that still refer to nomes as administrative resorts, even though no nomarchs are in evidence here; see H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 41–48.



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title of nomarch,132 the only known nomarchs of the former Theban region are two governors of Elephantine (Sarenput I and II).133 My reading of the evidence is that, in many places in what had been the Heracleopolitan Kingdom, the nomarch system continued to exist. In some cases, exemplified by the ruling families buried in Assiūt ̣, Dayr al-Barshā and Banī Ḥ asan, no break in the line of nomarchs seems to occur after the Unification of Egypt.134 Here, the tradition simply persists. In places like Elephantine there is no evidence that the Middle Kingdom nomarchs constitute the continuation of an ancient line of rulers. Rather, we seem to be witnessing a dynamic policy in which certain specific rulers were individually awarded the prestigious title of nomarch. The same may occasionally have happened in the former Heracleopolitan realm as well. For instance, in Mīr a ‘new’ nomarch seems to appear in the reign of Amenemhat I.135 The stress laid by some early Middle Kingdom nomarchs from Dayr al-Barshā on their roots in very ancient nobility (ḳrḥ .t) may reflect the difference in status they sensed between themselves and other, ‘new’ nomarchs.136 If it is correct that the rural administration of the former Heracleopolitan kingdom remained to a large extent in the hands of the nomarchs, the question must be asked who were the local rulers in the south. Here, hardly any persons with the style of a nomarch are attested, and cemeteries with elite tombs of the kind elsewhere built for nomarchs are also of rare occurrence. Now one of the main sources mustered by W. Helck in support of his theory that Middle Kingdom local rulers generally were of the class of the “mayors”, Hammamat graffito 87, in fact concerns precisely this area. In a listing of the 132  Statue Cairo CG 404 (L. Borchardt, Statuen und Statuetten von Königen und Privatleuten im Museum zu Kairo II [Berlin, 1925], 17 and pl. 66). 133   Urk. VII, p. 6,5; 6,17; L. Habachi, Elephantine IV, 42, fig. 4; II, pl. 37b. 134   Until recently it was widely assumed that a break in fact did occur, but evidence to the contrary has been presented by H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 48–50; M. Zitman, The Necropolis of Assiut I, 11–43. In Assiūt ̣, the case for a break of the nomarchal line has long been considered very strong, and this was linked to the role of the nomarchy there in defending the town against the northward advance of the Theban troops. The recent discovery of the tomb of It-ib-iqer seems to fill the gap between the last First Intermediate Period nomarch Kheti II and the early Middle Kingdom ruler Mesehti. Since it is clear that It-ib iqer was Kheti’s son, it is likely that this ruling family remained in charge despite the Theban conquest. 135  H. Willems, Chests of Life, 82–87 for the chronology of the governors at Mīr. Only one of these rulers, Senbi II, actually mentions the title ‘great chief ’ in his tomb (A.M. Blackman, The Rock Tombs of Meir II [ASE 23; London, 1915], pl. XII). 136  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 86, n. 17, with a survey of the literature.

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personnel of an expedition to the Wādī Hammāmāt undertaken in the reign of Senwosret I, the first persons to be mentioned are “the mayor of Edfu Isi and his town, and the mayors of the Head of the South . . .” (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n ḏb¡ ʾIsἰ ḥ nʿ nἰw.t=f ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ n.w Tp-rs.y).137 This suggests that the campaign was directed by the mayor of Edfu seconded by the mayors of the other towns in the seven southernmost nomes of Egypt. While nomarchs are conspicuous by their near absence in this region, this text makes clear that ‘mayors’ were around all across southern Upper Egypt. The fact, discussed above, that people of this class were clearly of a rank far inferior to that of a nomarch may explain why the local rulers in southern Egypt have left behind so few tangible traces as compared to the nomarchs of Middle Egypt. It has long been assumed that the Theban takeover in northern Egypt was the result of a military victory. The description of fights in the late First Intermediate Period tombs of It-ib and Kheti II at Assiūt ̣ and, subsequently, in the Hatnub graffiti dated to the time of Nehri I, seemed to offer graphic descriptions of how the Thebans were first challenged by the nomarchs of Assiūt ̣ and then by those of al-Ashmūnayn. However, the former group of texts describes conditions before the Theban takeover, while it is now generally accepted that the Nehri texts date several decades later,138 and thus have nothing to do with the problem. One might add that the depictions of besieged towns in the tomb of Mentuhotep’s general Antef do not depict an inner-Egyptian war, but one against Asiatics, and that it is hard to securely relate other war scenes in Antef ’s tomb with certainty to a war in Middle Egypt.139 Finally, the bodies of sixty “slain soldiers” of Montuhotep II, who according to Winlock had fallen during the siege of Heracleopolis, are rather more likely to have been killed during a much later event in Thebes itself.140

  Hamm., pl. XX.   L. Gestermann, ZÄS 135 (2008), pp. 1–14. 139   H. Willems, BiOr 46 (1989), pp. 598–599. 140   H.E. Winlock, The Slain Soldiers of Neb-Hepet-Rē Mentu-Hotpe (PMMA Eg. Exp. XVI; New York, 1945), 1–23; C. Vogel, “Fallen Heroes?—Winlock’s ‘Slain Soldiers’ Reconsidered”, JEA 89 (2003), 239–245. Although Vogel does not indicate in which context these soldiers fell, I think it is not impossible that it happened in the reign of Senwosret I, when the famous Ṭ ūd inscription and stela Louvre C1 relate of civil strife in the Theban region (cf. C. Obsomer, “La date de Nésou-Khonsou [Louvre C1]”, RdÉ 44 [1993], 103–140; C. Barbotin, “II. Guerre civile et guerre étrangère d’après la stèle de Nysoumontou [Louvre C1]”, RdÉ 56 [2005], 193–194, with further bibliography). 137 138



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The upshot is that there remains no clear evidence that the Unification of Egypt was really the outcome of a war. The fact that nomarchs in Middle Egypt remained in charge may rather point to a different sequence of events. Without being able to prove this, I find it more likely that the mounting military pressure exerted by the Thebans may have induced the provincial chiefs to change their allegiance to them. This might explain the smooth integration of the nomarchs in the “new order”. It seems that a nomarch of the Hare nome named Ahanakht I played a key role in the process. The texts and decoration of his monumental tomb at Dayr al-Barshā—the first decorated rock tomb on the Middle Kingdom plateau there—show that he was not only a nomarch, but that the new Theban king also engaged him as a vizier. The strong ties between the new monarch and the rulers of the Hare nome is also apparent from the fact that one of Ahanakht’s subordinates, a man called Iha, who was responsible for the local temple scriptorium (the House of Life), was appointed as a teacher of the princes in Thebes.141 From Thebes, two men called Bebi and Dagi are also known to have been viziers under Mentuhotep II.142 According to Allen, Ahanakht was the first vizier to rule in Egypt after the unification.143 However, this hypothesis is weakened by the consideration that he would then have been the only known very high court official not buried in Thebes. It is therefore more likely that he acted as a second vizier beside the Theban one(s), having the specific task integrating the nomes of the former Heracleopolitan kingdom in the reunited country.144 The occurrence of a provincial vizier beside a residential one is also known from the late Old Kingdom, and the specific historical conditions in the early Middle Kingdom may have made the re-creation of this institution an attractive proposition. The growth in political significance of the Hare nome in this key period is reflected in a sudden, explosive expansion of the cemetery

141   For the publication of the texts of the tomb of Iha and the interpretation of the texts of all tombs of this period in Dayr al-Barshā, see H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 64–73; 83–113. 142   J.P. Allen, “Some Theban Officials of the Early Middle Kingdom”, in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson I, P.D. Manuelian, ed. (Boston, 1996), 12–23. 143   J.P. Allen, “The High Officials of the Early Middle Kingdom”, in: The Theban Necropolis. Past, Present and Future, N. Strudwick, J.H. Taylor, ed. (London, 2003), 21–26. 144  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 109–110.

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in the low desert of Dayr al-Barshā, at the foot of the hill where Ahanakht’s tomb is located. This area, covering zones 8, 9 and perhaps 10 of the site, covers a vast surface densely occupied by tombs, and these almost all date to the early Middle Kingdom. It is hard to avoid the impression that Ahanakht’s rise to political prominence entailed a growth in the number of officials stationed in al-Ashmūnayn. Later in the Middle Kingdom, the density of the Dayr al-Barshā necropolis seems to subside, but several of the nomarchs buried there still boast the title of vizier. It thus seems as though al-Ashmūnayn remained the seat of a line of provincial viziers, who are likely to have seconded the vizier in the capital.145 Unfortunately the information we have on the nomarchs is for the rest somewhat patchy. The coincidental preservation of (groups of ) texts in some periods now and then allows us a glimpse. For instance, the texts from the tombs of Dayr al-Barshā and in the calcite alabaster quarry at Hatnub offer an intriguing picture of civil-war like conditions in Middle Egypt in the early years of king Amenemhat I, when Nehri I and his sons were in charge in al-Ashmūnayn. The none too clear descriptions may indicate how they assisted the new king in asserting his power.146 In roughly the same period, the tomb inscriptions of Khnumhotep I in Banī Ḥ asan describe that he, too, was supporting Amenemhat I, being rewarded with the office of ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ in Menat Khufu.147 Later on he must have become nomarch of the entire Oryx nome, although the text unfortunately does not specify under which conditions this happened. A somewhat similar account appears in the tomb of Amenemhat at Banī Hasan, who claims to have acted as a substitute for his father when he accompanied king Senwosret I to the south to defeat “the four desert-dwellers”.148 Accounts like this make clear that the mobilisation of troops to secure the stability of the state was among their recurrent tasks. Besides that, we know they had cadastral responsibilities,149 and sometimes perhaps, as remarked above, tasks in the organization of

 H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 104–107.  On the interpretation of these texts, see now L. Gestermann, ZÄS 135 (2008), 1–14. 147  P.E. Newberry, Beni Hasan I (London, 1893), pl. XLIV. 148  P.E. Newberry, op. cit., pl. VIII, columns 6–13. 149  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 88–89. 145 146



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irrigation. The not infrequent appearance of the title of overseer of priests indicates that some nomarchs also directed local temples, and they were undoubtedly involved in various economic activities, like the exploitation of quarries,150 trading,151 and directing their undoubtedly extensive agricultural holdings. Unsurprisingly, they seem to have entertained intensive contacts with their peers in other nomes. Thus, the autobiography of Khnumhotep II at Banī Hasan includes the remark: Another favour that was granted to me: One appointed my eldest son Nakht, whom Khety had conceived, as ruler of the Anubis nome as a successor to the father of his mother.152

The Anubis nome was the one directly north of the Oryx nome, where Banī Ḥ asan lies. We can infer that Khnumhotep’s father-in-law had been nomarch of the Anubis nome; that he gave his daughter Khety in marriage to Khnumhotep, and that the latter’s son later became a nomarch of the Anubis nome. Although the text does not state as much, there is nothing unlikely in the assumption that Nakht, like his father, married a girl from the ruling line in the Anubis nome.153 The phenomenon strongly recalls the system of wife exchange that was common until not so long ago amongst European nobility. It cannot be the purpose of this chapter to describe in detail the fate of the other nomarchs in the course of the Middle Kingdom. In many cases we know their names or the sequence in which they held office, but there is rarely information on specific events. But exception must be made for the disappearance of this ruling class. Long ago, E. Meyer argued that they lost their position in the later 12th dynasty due to a conscious political move of the central  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 89–91.  H. Willems, Dayr al-Barshā I, 91. 152   Beni Hasan I, pl. XXVI, cols. 121–125. 153  A similar indication of close ties between the nomarch families of Upper Egypt is a wooden cylinder found in or near the tomb of Djehutihotep at Dayr al-Barshā, mentioning a person by the name of Wahka. It has been suggested that this object may have been a gift to Djehutihotep by a member of the ruling line of the Tenth Upper Egyptian nome, who were buried in Qāw al-Kabīr, and many of whose members bore the name Wahka. This name is otherwise unattested in the Hare nome (see H. Willems, M. De Meyer, D. Depraetere, e.a., “Preliminary Report of the 2002 Campaign of the Belgian Mission to Deir al-Barsha”, MDAIK 60 (2004), 251. The name Wah-ka in this context may also be explained by assuming interbreeding between the nomarch families of the Tenth and Fourteenth nomes, producing a child in the fourteenth nome bearing a name otherwise common only in the Tenth. 150 151

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administration.154 Over the last decades, this hypothesis has been criticized because the preserved evidence for nomarchs in various parts of Egypt would suggest that their disappearance was a long drawn-out process rather than a punctual event.155 This observation is certainly correct. However, as fresh evidence becomes available, it appears that the phase in which the nomarchs disappeared lasted less long than has been asserted, perhaps only covering the latter years of Senwosret III and the earlier part of the reign of Amenemhat III. The time range cannot be very accurately fixed, but a second process requires consideration as well. Throughout Egypt, it seems that none of the last representatives of the “nomarch” class still bore the title ḥ r.y-tp ʿ¡ n NOME. It is far from clear what the background of this may have been, but in view of the later development of regional administration, it stands to reason that this may have been a step in curtailing the regional administrators somewhat. At least they no longer bore a title expressing their role as state administrators. In many cases, however, they still were temple administrators (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr), a function which in many a case may in fact have been the real basis of their power. Later, in the reign of Amenemhat III, the evidence from the nomarchal cemeteries then breaks off entirely. It is important to reflect on what this meant. Surely not that the category of the ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr as such disappeared. The fact that such titles remained in use (in fact, all through Egyptian history) cannot be ignored. However, suddenly these people seem to have lost a) the capacity or b) the interest to build monumental tombs. The first factor would imply that the economic means of the local rulers had dwindled, or their power to deploy regional work-forces in their own interest. A not unlikely explanation of this might be that the central government effectively curbed their power to a major extent. In any case it is manifest that the disappearance of the nomarch cemeteries coincides chronologically with the appearance in the sources of different administrative entities like the “Southern District” (wʿr.t rs.y.t), probably covering most of Upper Egypt; different kinds of administrators; and different administrative practices (the sudden and vast

 E. Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums I,2 (Stuttgart, Berlin,2 1913), 252–253.   The most fundamental publication that can be cited here is D. Franke, in: Middle Kingdom Studies, S. Quirke, ed., 51–67. 154 155



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increase of sealing can hardly be read otherwise).156 At this time also there seems to be a rapid increase in the number of attestations for “mayors” (ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ n TOWN).157 Two points merit being considered here. First, although some of these ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ were in charge of towns that had formerly been nome capitals, others directed towns that had not. Therefore, the ḥ ¡.ty.w-ʿ are unlikely to have been simply the successors of the nomarchs under a different title. Rather they functioned within a differently arranged administrative network. While clearly being important local officials, it seems that they had a somewhat lower status than the nomarchs. We have already argued this based on the size of their dwellings. The fact that the ‘mayors’ apparently did not generally follow the example of the ‘nomarchs’ of building monumental tombs, may point in the same direction. I would argue that we are witnessing a systemic change here. Until the late 12th dynasty, nomarchs may not have existed everywhere in Egypt, but they were an integral part of the country’s administration. In the late 12th dynasty this changed radically. It is true that, even after this time, regional administrators are occasionally in evidence whose funerary display strongly recalls that of the earlier nomarchs, but examples are very hard to find. I only know of the 16th dynasty tombs of Renseneb and Sobknakht at al-Kāb, one of whom was an ἰr.y-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.ty-ʿ ḫ tm.ty-bἰ.ty smḥ r wʿ.ty ἰm.y-r ḥ m.w-nṯr.158 In view of the combination of the monumental kind of tomb and the kind of office borne by the tomb owner, I would, had they dated to the 12th dynasty, assign these persons to the class of the nomarchs. And it seems inherently likely, not only that they had tombs resembling nomarch tombs, but also that they wielded an amount of regional power similar to that of a nomarch. What differentiates this case from the nomarchs of the 12th dynasty is that we are, on a national level, looking at a very isolated case. The owners of the al-Kāb tombs were, probably 156  S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom; Id., Titles and Bureaux. 157  Almost all examples of such mayors are from the later reign of Senwosret III or later. We have seen however that, in the absence of nomarchs in southern Upper Egypt, this class of officials already occurred there from the early Middle Kingdom onwards. At Banī Ḥ asan they are also in evidence. Although they are otherwise rarely if ever attested in more northerly parts of Upper Egypt, this case suggests that they may have existed, even if they left only few traces in the documentation. It remains very difficult to determine, how common they were. 158  On these tombs see now W.V. Davies, “Renseneb and Sobeknakht of Elkab: the Genealogical Data”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 223–240.

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very consciously, copying the funerary environment that the earlier nomarchs had surrounded themselves with. They were thus from certain perspectives in the same league. Different from the nomarchs, however, they did not function in an administrative system in which the nomarchy was a usual component. Instead, historical conditions specific to these rulers led to their acquiring a degree of prominence that other contemporary regional administrators did not have. Undoubtedly this has to do with the close links between the ruling line in al-Kāb and the royal court at Thebes. The above explanation works from the assumption that the nomarch class as such disappeared, and that the ‘mayors’ who succeded them as regional leaders held a less prominent position. The disappearance of monumental tombs could be explained from this cause alone, but it should be stressed that historical developments are rarely ever the result of a single cause. More or less at the time provincial monumental tombs disappear, royal pyramid complexes also rapidly decrease in size. Moreover, the funerary equipment of royals of the late 12th and 13th dynasties becomes gradually more and more simple. Even royal sarcophagi are now almost devoid of decoration. Funerary culture as a whole is marked by a profound change in the kind of objects buried with the deceased. A chapter on Egyptian administration is not the right place to discuss these phenomena.159 The reason why I briefly mention them here is that it may be too simple to regard the disappearance of monumental tombs in rural areas too strictly as a reflection of the changed economic and administrative powers of the administrators. In part the changed kind of data at our disposal may also reflect a changed mental outlook, in which costly, symbol-laden tombs and funerary equipment were no longer en vogue. If so, local patrons may have survived also after the nomarchal era, but in a form that is less easy to recognize in the sources.

  The issue will be discussed more profoundly in H. Willems, “Die Frage der sogenannten ‘Demokratisierung des Jenseitsglaubens’ vom späten Alten Reich bis zur Zweiten Zwischenzeit”, in: Handbuch der altägyptischen Religion, J. Assmann, H. Roeder, ed. (Handbuch der Orientalistik; Leiden, in press). In the present chapter I will also refrain from discussing the religious role of the nomarchs within their communities. For this, see H. Willems, Les Textes des Sarcophages et la démocratie, 103–129; 220–228. 159

THE ORGANISATION OF THE PHARAONIC ARMY (old to new kingdom) Anthony Spalinger The following analysis proceeds, historically speaking, in an inverse fashion than might be expected. We begin with the inception of the Egyptian New Kingdom and, having played out the significance of the military during the heyday of the empire, the focus turns back in time. Hence, the following survey unwinds the historical arrow otherwise, as if one reads a Chinese scroll or an Egyptian papyrus from the left instead of the right. This approach has been taken in order to focus upon the developed form of the Egyptian military during the period of horses, chariots, body armor and helmets, as well as the sickle-shaped sword and the composite bow.1 Tracing the antecedents of the New Kingdom’s fighting arm backwards in time allows us also to see the striking differences between the, in many ways, full-fledged and bestknown system of the Egyptian military from the vantage point of the Middle Kingdom and its emphasis upon the royal marines. From that point, the First Intermediate Period is surveyed with emphasis placed upon the development of warriors owing to the internecine warfare that plagued that era. Finally, we conclude with the Old Kingdom by placing our historical telescope upon the lack of a royal standing army of significant size and which was independent of any purpose save war. In the second part the reader will find a discussion of the developments of arms technology, but this time the course of time is forwards.

1   The following standard works may be recommended: A.R. Schulman, Military Rank, Title and Organization in the Egyptian New Kingdom (Berlin, 1964) with an important review by J. Yoyotte and J. López, “L’organisation de l’armée et les titulaires de soldats au nouvel empire Égyptien,” BiOr 26 (1969), 3–19; A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft: Ein Beitrag zur Sozialgeschichte des Neuen Reiches (Heidelberg, 1996); R.B. Partridge, Fighting Pharaohs: Weapons and Warfare in Ancient Egypt (Manchester, 2002); G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero: I Sovrani del Nuovo Regno alla conquista dell’Asia tra mito, strategia bellica e realità archeologica (Turin, 2001); and A.J. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt: The New Kingdom (Malden, Oxford, and Carlton, 2005). The reader should know that I now prefer the term “sickle-shaped sword” to “scimitar” (which is a misnomer) and “sickle sword.”

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It is hoped that this analysis skirts the all too common aspects of scholarly research as it avoids the refrain of narrating one battle after another. Attention has been given to social developments in pharaonic Egypt, but no detailed analysis is presented because the other chapters in this work can amplify the remarks given below in a more detailed fashion. The New Kingdom On the south and west walls in the court of Ramesses II Luxor there is an intriguing text carved early in his reign of that provides a list of the hierarchy of the key bureaucratic officials of Egyptian society.2 This hieroglyphic inscription is set within the famous Opet festival and commences with words of the king’s heir apparent. Associated with him are the following officials: viziers, treasures of the palace, superintendants of the two houses of gold and silver (treasurers), generals, generals of the infantry, chief troop commanders (or captains of troops), controllers, overseers of the southern and northern deserts, overseers of fortresses, and the overseers of the river mouths (of the Delta). Additional high-ranking men are then listed but they are not associated with the army. All of them bring impost to the king as “work products,” from Nubia, offerings of Asia, and the accounts of Egypt.3 This brief inscription indicates the presentation of revenues to pharaoh at one of the most important religious celebrations of the time. One notes the strict pattern of hierarchy: vizier, intimate officials of the court or the “King’s House,” and then the military with security aides. This account is a somewhat abbreviated “staff list” that has an almost exact parallel with the famous “Textbook of the Hierarchy,” to employ Maspero’s term, in the Onomasticon of Amenemope. As Oleg Berlev showed, the latter composition has subsections among

2  KRI II 608.6–14; see K.A. Kitchen, Ramesside Inscriptions: Translated and Annotated. Translations II (Oxford and Cambridge, 1996), 402–03, and Ramesside Inscriptions: Translated and Annotated. Notes and Comments II (Oxford and Cambridge MA; 1999), 408–09. Add M. Abd El-Razik, “The Dedicatory and Building Texts of Ramesses II in Luxor Temple,” JEA 61 (1975), 129. 3   For the term “work products” see J.J. Janssen, “B¡kw from Work to Product,” SAK 20 (1993), 81–94; and A. Spalinger, “From Local to Global: The Extension of an Egyptian Bureaucratic Term to the Empire,” SAK 23 (1996), 353–76.



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which is the so-called “King’s House.”4 In that portion all of the officials are considered to be servants of the king. They surround their ruler just as the divine pantheon was considered to be a body of a single god, Re. Retained, therefore, were very early conceptions of the Egyptian royal household which Egyptologists often incorrectly liken to a “state.” We read of military personnel in addition to bureaucrats, priests, artisans and agricultural workers.5 The Onomasticon presents the functionaries, but only reveals a general sense of these individuals who worked—i.e., who were appendages—of the House of the King. Moreover, there is little doubt that the composition reflects the society of the New Kingdom, if not the Ramesside Period, even if the earliest date of the various exemplars of the onomasticon is at the close of Dynasty XX. Number 76 of the Onomasticon commences with the most important army official, the “great overseer of the host,” or generalissimo, who normally was a king’s son. The order is virtually the same as the Luxor text of Ramesses II, a point which Berlev did not overlook. Here is the arrangement commencing with No. 77: courtiers, dispatch writer (of the king), chief of the department of the king, king’s herald, fan bearer on the right—“one who performs excellent work for the king”—superintendant of the chamberlains, chief of the bureau, royal scribe within the king’s house, and vizier. Then come the military men. In other words, we have now moved beyond those officials intimately associated with their lord and who worked in the palace, thereby seeing and communicating to the lord on an almost daily basis. As befits the age, the war machine of the Egyptian state was extremely significant and carried out its duties under the highest officials. The army and security officials begin with No. 87 and three are mentioned at this point: general, scribe of the infantry, and lieutenant commander of the army or adjutant. Although differing somewhat, the Luxor text still retains the division between the highest court-based bureaucrats and the chiefs of the army. Significantly, both sources make a differentiation between the age-old title of “general,” that is, “overseer of the host,” thereby reflecting the earlier duties associated with expeditions 4   The following discussion is based on O. Berlev, “Bureaucrats,” in: The Egyptians, S. Donadoni, ed. (Chicago and London, 1994), 91–4. The key passages in the onomasticon will be found in A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica (Oxford, 1947), 20*–35*. 5   A. Schulman also covered this list in his Military Rank, Title, and Organization, 8–9.

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of any sort, and the infantry. Hence, it may be argued, in contradiction to the viewpoint expressed by Berlev, that these two lists may reflect an older period of time in which the chariotry division of the Egyptian army had not yet become a major part of the hierarchy. The Onomasticon then presents these bureaucrats: overseer of the treasury of silver and gold, the king’s envoy to foreign lands, the overseers of the king’s house, overseer of horses, lieutenant commander of the chariotry, charioteer, charioteer warrior, and standard bearer. The first and second rank of the army is clearly separated from two civilian duties of key importance. More importantly, we see that the New Kingdom chariotry section of the army has received great significance as befits the era. With these officials the highest layer of the army is recorded. Following them are various bureaucrats, still holding important offices, but less significant than the preceding. Mayors and other civilians such as deputy fortress commanders of the Mediterranean (overseers of Asia and Nubia), overseers of the river mouths, and chiefs of the records-keepers of the “House of the Sea” follow. It is significant that, despite the importance of the army in the empire, the king’s civilian bureaucrats still hold a commanding position in the bureaucracy if only by number. They total about one third of the total members associated with the “King’s House.” A following section of the Onomasticon records “People.” This portion covers the designation of Egyptian people and neighboring lands. Most reflect those servants of the king who are not connected with the palace. Once more the ancient division between the “Great House” of the ruler and members on the outside is sharply differentiated. In the section on “People” the first and only specific designations are connected to the army. These men are not royal staff bureaucrats. The short list commences with No. 234: troop commanders, infantry, and chariotry.6 In other words, these three divisions include the rest of the military and clearly refer to soldiers who did not have any contact with the royal house. Their diminished importance is also reflective of their background. Infantry—still placed before the newer chariot arm of the state, a common arrangement—and the latter plus their immediate superiors formed the major group of warriors whom we might liked to modern privates and sergeants, i.e., non-commissioned soldiers. A similar arrangement is presented at Medinet Habu (temp. Ramesses III)   A. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, pp. 112*ff.

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where one scene depicts the distribution of arms to the generals, commanders of troops and troop commanders or “captains.” We can assume than any promotion among the infantry or chariotry would have led to one being elevated to a specific rank that is encompassed under the more general designation of “troop commander.” It is revealing of the mental and organizational outlook of New Kingdom Egypt that the army is placed immediately before those men connected to foreign lands. (Preceding the former in this section of the Onomasticon is a series of general and ancient designations for the entirety of Egyptians.) The mass of the New Kingdom army, therefore, was placed under the rubric of People rather than Man, the latter not being concerned with anything but sex and age, and ending with “slave.” What we have determined by this overview is that the Egyptian military was divided into two components. Both were severely separated, not merely in function but, more importantly, in economic dependence. The core of the New Kingdom army was self-sufficient insofar as the charioteers7 and many of the footsoldiers had their own wherewithal—plots of land—and performed the backbreaking tasks of any army whether on patrol duty, stationed in garrisons, or on active service during a campaign. This aspect of war was ably presented in a series of anti-military tractates on papyri dated to the end of Dynasty XIX.8 Those accounts, written as vituperative warnings to prospective civilian officials, have to be placed within a contemporary socio-historic setting. Labeled by Egyptologists as Miscellanies, these “satires,” as they are often called, indicate a keen division between the chariotry and the footsoldiers. They also avoid mentioning the high-ranking bureaucratic officials of the day. In other words, the Miscellanies entirely shun the military men in the king’s bureaucracy who were linked to the royal house. Instead, the remarks center upon the very mundane affects of military service. All sense of possible honor and fame are equally eschewed as a topic of conversation. Instead, we read of pitiless razzias abroad, possible lack of food and water, recalcitrant enemies, continual beatings   O.D. Langenbach, “Exkursus: Aufbau und Organisation der ägyptischen Streitwagentruppe,” in: Militärgeschichte des pharaonischen Ägypten: Altägypten und seine Nachbarkulturen im Spiegel aktueller Forschung, R. Gundlach and C. Voegel, eds. (Paderborn: F. Schöningh; 2009), 347–56. He covers the chariotry division of Egypt’s New Kindom army and stresses the chariot-oreinted paternal connections of these men. Langenbach also metions the necessity of being a scribe (page 351). 8   A. Spalinger, Five Views on Egypt (Göttingen, 2006), 5–49. 7

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and the like. These soldiers were, in fact those whom the Onomasticon placed under the designation of “People,” and who were connected to foreigners. In a true sense the ordinary soldiers of the New Kingdom army, if not earlier in time, are just people, but owing to the significance of their profession, they were specifically mentioned whereas other workers in Egyptian society, when designated by profession, belonged elsewhere. Let us now contrast those ordinary military men with their superiors.9 The Egyptian policemen or Medjay, for example, were listed in the Onomasticon under the section dealing with the household of the pharaoh. The Sherden, originally mercenaries or “conscript soldiers” in the Egyptian army of Dynasty XIX but then specialized warriors placed in “strongholds,” were listed with the foreigners in the section on People, and thereby connected to those ordinary soldiers. It is thus clear that the Medjay were included among the king’s household as they were state-supported army men where the ordinary soldiers were not. The key differentiation in the Onomasticon was to conceive, following the economic and political set-up of early pharaonic Egypt, a country formed by a royal household and thereafter viewed in such a fashion. The latter, called the “Great House” or the King’s House, was ideologically understood to be composed of high bureaucrats, officials, among whom were the key officials of the war machine. In addition, there were also priests, agricultural workers, and artisans. In other words, even if carpenters, to select one lowly profession, would undoubtedly never even approach or enter the king’s house, they were still conceived to belong to the “Great House” or personal domain of the pharaoh. They were his men and thus dependent upon their ruler. Separated from the mass of the Egyptian population they nonetheless belonged to pharaoh’s household. The latter designation was both the symbol and the working concept of the “state.” Perhaps revealing in this context is the list of offerings made to Osiris by various military personnel, all combat warriors, in a papyrus in the British Museum.10 The hierarchy is presented in a decreasing fashion in which a higher division that the platoon is presented: standard-bearer, adjutant, “chief of 50,” scribe, and the ordinary foot soldier (infantryman) occur. From  9   The very high military officials in the New Kingdom are covered by A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, Chapter 2. 10   P. Butler (BM 10333): KRI VII 13–15.11; cf. A. Schulman, Military Rank, Title, and Organization, pp. 27–8 and 106; cf. J. Yoyotte and J. Lopez, BiOr 26 (1969), 6.



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this brief note one can see that adjutants as well as platoon leaders were, as the Onomasticon and the Luxor account indicate, considered separate from those higher military leaders previously discussed. Just as the pharaoh had his household, so, as the Onomasticon indicates in the section on “People,” there were private households who could possess slaves—the king did not. In the widest sense, the royal household included bureaucrats/officials, the high-ranking military commanders, priests, artisans and agricultural workers. These four, as Berlev also revealed, turn up in a famous list during the reign of Thutmose IV in the private tomb of the warrior Tjanuni.11 In an equally significant discussion Raedler has discussed the local connections among the higher-ranking military officers of the New Kingdom in an effort to flesh out their rise to position.12 She has placed particular attention upon the career of the viceroy of Kush, Huy, who is known from the middle years of Ramesses II. This significant official had earlier been in charge of the Royal Stalls at the Delta capital PiRamesses (Qantir) and on at least one of his inscriptions his previous connections with the Hittites are noted: Namely, Huy’s connection with the Hittite marriage of Ramesses. A second case brought to light by Raedler concerns the social network of yet another of this pharaoh’s’ viceroy, Setau. Previously well known owing to his connection with work projects in Nubia and a campaign into Libya, Setau’s extant documentation allows one to reconstruct as well his earlier non-military career and contrast it with Huy. Of particular important in estimating Setau’s worth are his lengthy autobiographical stela—an inscription that reveals a literary hand—and at least ten extant stelae which were set up for him at Wadi es-Sebua.13 Independently of Berlev, Raedler   See now A. and A. Brack, Das Grab des Tjanuni: Theben Nr. 74 (Mainz am Rhein, 1977), 43–4. Berlev, The Workforce of Egypt in the Epoch of the Middle Kingdom (Moscow: Nauka, 1972), 22–3 provides an excellent background to the text. This New Kingdom soldier classifies the ḥmmw nsw as part of Egypt’s agricultural population. As Berlev noted, Tjanuni was the “census taker” who performed his duties for the army, the agricultural workers, the servants, priests and even birds and beasts. 12   C. Raedler, “Zur Prospographie von altägyptischen Militärangehörigen,” in: Militärgeschichte des pharaonischen Ägypten: Altägypten und seine Nachbarkulturen im Spiegel aktueller Forschung, R. Gundlach and C. Voegel, eds. (Paderborn: F. Schöningh; 2009), 309–43. 13   C. Raedler, “Zur Repräsentation und Verwirklichung pharaonischer Macht in Nubien: Der Vizekönig Setau,” in: Das Königtum der Ramessidenzeit: Voraussetzungen, Verwirklichung, Vermächtnis: Akten des 3. Symposions zur ägyptischen Königsideologie in Bonn 7.–9.6. 2001, R. Gundlach and U. Rößler-Köhler, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2003), 129–73. 11

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evaluated Setau’s public network in which career soldiers played a significant role. One can thus see clearer the interconnected association of “pure” military officers with careers that were not necessarily always involved with war. Moreover, some of the results of Raedler’s analysis of the vast circle of military superiors, equals and dependents, indicate the far-reaching nature of this important bureaucratic if warlike subgroup within New Kingdom society. Such men were not merely the necessary props of the army, they were as well the links in a vast chain of administrative positions, albeit ones that would involve coercion of some sort (building projects) and martial action if necessary. Nevertheless, as Huy’s career proves, often high-ranking soldiers would be involved in diplomatic relations with the other major powers of the day. In an attempt to regularize the structure of the army during the New Kingdom Alan Schulman used many sources in order to arrange, as clearly as possible, the ranks within the land-based forces of the state.14 It should be noted that he attempted to connect the titles with modern American military ranks. Noting, as others did earlier, that a division of the army most probably was composed of 5,000 men,15 and that the so-called platoon leaders had fifty men under them, Schulman keenly separated the scribal ranks from the combat ones. Partly following his reconstruction, and excluding the generalissimos, the organization ran down as follows: general (or commander of a host), then the socalled “chief of troops” (misnamed “captain of troops”), troop commanders, adjutants, standard bearers, adjutants of a company, platoon leaders, and finally infantrymen. But one must take into consideration the differences between hieratic workaday texts and their monumen  A. Schulman, Military Rank, Title and Organization. Yet see the comments of Yoyotte and Lopez, BiOr 26 (1969), pp. 3–5. 15   The key evidence for this in P. Anastasi I: H.-W. Fischer-Elfert, Die satirische Streitschaft des Papyrus Anastasi I. Übersetzung und Kommentar (Wiesbaden, 1986), 149–57. This is the most up-to-date analysis of the hieratic text. It is dated to the reign of Ramesses II even though the exact time of redaction remains unclear. The key passage sets the division as follows: 1,900 archers (Egyptians: not ordinary infantry), 620 Sherden (mercenaries or, as some wish to interpret their position in the Ramesside army, “conscript soldiers”), 1,600 Qahaq (peoples from Libya: E. Edel, “Die Ortsnamenlisten in den Tempeln von Aksha, Amarah und Soleb,” Biblische Notizen 11 [1980], 69), Meswesh Libyans (?; what else could “Meswes” mean?) and Nubians, 880. Note the large number of foreigners. In addition, the “campaign” described is actually a razzia! For the historiographic background relating to the assumption of 5,000 men = one division: A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, xv note 3. 14



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tal hieroglyphic companions. Archaizing titles such as “general of the infantry” ( jmy-r mnf¡yt) could be used for the more up-to-date rank of “general” or “commander of a host.”16 And, at least with respect to the kings’ sons, the term generalissimo may have been interchangeable with general. All in all, the presence of different types or genres of texts force us to be aware of the overlapping uses of terminology, the presence of different viewpoints concerning military ranks, and the absence of some titles within a list that might, on a first look, be considered to present a definitive arrangement of the army hierarchy. For example, titles might be arranged in a horizontal fashion when a case of honorific hierarchy could also exist. Thus with respect to the chariot division, which needs further clarification owing to its increasing importance in Dynasty XVIII, we have to be on guard lest the historical changes within the New Kingdom are overlooked. In this case we know of “chariot warriors” who were supervised by chiefs who had the rank of standard bearers. Here, we see a virtual parallel with the footsoldiers, and note once more the supervisory role of men whom one would automatically think were not leaders. Later, two types of chariots soldiers appear in the data. From the Amarna Period onwards a new term, the “driver,” came into play.17 Originally this designation referred to a man associated with high officials but one who was not necessarily a warrior. The early or simple “drivers” were not of a high rank whereas others remained associated with nobles and the king. At the close of Dynasty XVIII the term “charioteer” was introduced and two separate military functionaries then were created: the charioteers and the shieldbearers. The older designation, “chariot warrior,” slowly disappeared from the official terminology. The shieldbearers have been likened to cadets and were assistants to the shieldbearers. Within the Ramesside Period the term shieldbearer was applied more and more to the lower echelon of the chariotry, and thus the men took over the role of ordinary chariot warriors, eventually being grouped under shieldbearer commanders.

16   As this fact is well known, let me refer only to A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, pp. 3–17 and 141–59. 17   This point of this discussion and that in the following paragraph is based upon “J. Yoyotte and J. Lopez, BiOr 26 (1969), 10–11. Cf. G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, pp. 59–70.

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In a recent study Andrea Gnirs has presented a more complex analysis of the material.18 The generals, whose earlier role was connected to para-military tasks such as expeditions of various (e.g., quarrying), were at the apex of the war machines, and they included royal sons, who learned the art of war, and the pharaoh, of course. Various officials connected with horses, on the other hand (stallmasters are a good example), were administrative officials rather than “pure” military warriors. Yet the need for greater specification with regard to the chariotry was felt as early as the middle of Dynasty XVIII and “civilian” control, if one can use this phrase, disappeared. Nonetheless, most certainly at the beginning of Dynasty XVII, a civil versus military division was not sharply felt. The close association of military men with the king— that is the intimate connection of high-ranking soldier to his lord, was prevalent, indeed paramount. Only later did an increasing specialization of the army take place. Generals are known to have occupied the highest positions in the army. Gnirs has hypothesized three such types: the chariot commanders or field marshals, whose role was solely with the chariotry, the infantry general, and the generalissimo who controlled the entire army. It was not only the intimate association of high-ranking officers with the pharaoh that was crucial for the development of this war machine. Such connections and administrative command positions had existed earlier within Egyptian society.19 Indeed from the very beginning of the 18   Militär und Gesellschaft, Chapter 2. The English-speaking reader should take into consideration that she employs the German (earlier Prussian) military term of “Feldmarschall” for jdnw nj ḥm=f m/n tj n.t-ḥtrj. One must be extremely careful when translating modern ranks and titles from a foreign language into one’s own. The case of Feldmarschall is a very tricky one. For example, Gnir’s use of this word does not correspond to that used by Germany in 1913 as this apt passage indicates; “Though Germany devised a face-saving formula for removing the German commander from Constantinople (by promoting him to field marshal, which, according to German tradition, meant he could no longer command troops in the field)”: H. Kissinger, Diplomacy (New York, London, Toronto, Sydney, Tokyo, and Singapore, 1994), 198. On p. 18 of her work (note 129) Gnirs provides historical support for her use of this German designation. 19   There is an important recent series of analyses by C. Raedler on these connections during the New Kingdom: “Zur Struktur der Hofgesellschaft Ramses’ II,” in: Der ägyptische Hof des Neuen Reiches: seine Gesellschaft und Kultur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Außenpolitik, R. Gundlach and A. Klug, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2006), 39–87; id., “Die Wesiere Ramses’ II.—Netzwerk der Macht,” in: Der ägyptische Königtum im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Außenpolitik im 2. Jahrstausend v. Chr., R. Gundlach and A. Klug, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2004), 277–416; id., “Zur Repräsentation und Verwirklichung pharaonischer Macht in Nubien: Der Vizekönig Setau,” in:



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unified kingdom, powerful families always performed the bureaucratic duties of the pharaoh. (This had to be so owing to the relatively few men connected by blood to the ruler.) But when the introduction into Egypt of the horse and chariot took place, a new sector of the army began to have influence. At the beginning of the 18th dynasty the older water-based aspect of the war machine had become obsolete. Earlier, the following situation was common. Armies were composed mainly of footsoldiers led by marine supervisors or officers. This, as we shall see later, meant than actual expansion of Egypt’s might abroad was mainly oriented to territories easily reached by the Nile (e.g., upstream into Nubia) or by naval voyages in the eastern Mediterranean. Hence, it is not surprising to see that Middle Kingdom expansion occurred south in Nubia but never in Palestine or the Levant. True, Egyptian navies could transport troops to important cities on the coast of the eastern Mediterranean, such as to Lebanon. On the other hand, earlier it was logistically impossible for the Egyptian army to occupy distant lands in Western Asia as it did during the New Kingdom. During the earlier phases of Dynasty XVIII horses, now reared and developed in the homeland, provided the necessary long-distance role of conquest and occupation.20 By the middle of that period the rearing and domestication of these equids had become specialized. Indeed, a new type of horse was developed by the middle of the 18th dynasty. Campaigns in Asia were always dependent upon two major factors: the necessity of moving rapidly into regions which lacked major rivers and the requirement of permanent control over the northern countries. Nevertheless, as the warfare from Thutmose I to Amunhotep II shows, it took repeated campaigns, most of which were lead by the pharaoh, to effect some type of permanent control over Palestine,

Das Königtum der Ramessidenzeit: Voraussetzungen—Verwirklichung—Vermächtnis, R. Gundlach and U. Rößler-Köhler, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2003), 129–71. 20   In general, see A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapters 1–2; and G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, Chapter II. The recent study of P. Raulwing and J. CluttonBrock, “The Buhen Horse: Fifty Years After its Discovery,” JEH 2 (2009), 1–106 is an excellent survey of the present archaeological, textual, and osteological data concerning the introduction of the horse into Egypt. Nevertheless, except for the previously assembled data of A. von den Driesch and J. Peters, “Frühe Pferde- und Maultierskellete aus Auaris (Tell ed-Dabʿa) östliches Nildelta,” Ä&L 11 (2001), 301–11, the data concerning the importation of the horses into northern Egypt remains open. The date for the earliest Avaris skeleton is late Dynasty XV: see Rauling and Clutton-Brock’s summary on pp. 49–52.

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the key ports of the Levant, and southern Syria.21 In fact, not until the reign of Amunhotep II did such personal campaigning lead by the king radically decrease in number.22 By the second half of this dynasty some type of permanent control existed over Palestine and parts of Syria. With this change came the requirement of garrisons and local administrators.23 First, the Sinai corridor had to be organized so that a series of local provisioning centers (with food and water) was put in place.24 Then Palestine was subdued, and this took much energy on the part of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III if not also Thutmose I. Egypt’s interest in the coast of Lebanon, already important in the Middle Kingdom and earlier (e.g., at Byblos) meant that the coastal region in the far north was always part of her political interests. Such control was easy to accomplish if only because there were no maritime powers in the east 21  D.B. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III (Leiden and Boston, 2003); G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, Chapter III with his Thutmose III: imagine e strategia di un condotottiero (Turin, 2003); and A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapters 2–5. 22   The standard analysis of his campaigning remains that of P. Der Manuelian, Studies in the Reign of Amenophis II (Hildesheim, 1987), Chapter II. 23   There is an excellent study of garrisons in the New Kingdom by E.F. Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism: Military Bases and the Evolution of Foreign Policy in Egypt’s New Kingdom (Leiden and Boston, 2005). Owing to the detailed nature of the exposition, this extensively researched work can be cited here, although it has been consulted extensively with regard to all situations of fortresses, garrisons, and the like. 24   E. Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism, pp. 402–514 provides a wealth of archaeological and historical analysis on this matter that is unsurpassed. I can remark that she employs the little-used yet significant study of E. Oren, “Military Architecture along the ‘Ways of Horus’,” Eretz Israel 20 (1989), 80–22, a work that needs to be consulted on the issue of Egyptian control over the Sinai in the New Kingdom. The logistical set-up and military preparedness in the Sinai by the early Dynasty XVIII pharaohs appears to here been fully in place by the reign of Hatshepsut. Further study on this matter is necessary, and I have profited by conversations with Prof. Eliezer Oren on this issue. The Egyptian fortresses in the Sinai have been recently subjected to two studies: J. Seguin, Le Migdol du Proche-Orient à l’Égypte (Paris, 2007); and G. Cavillier, Migdol: Ricerche su modelli di architettura militare di èta ramesside (Medinet Habu) (Oxford, 2008). The standard work remains that of Oren, “Midgol: A New Fortress on the Edge of the Eastern Nile Delta,” BASOR 256 (1984), 7–44. For earlier times, see R. Schulz, “Der Sturm auf die Festung: Gedanken zu einigen Aspekten des Kampfbildes im Alten Ägypten vor dem Neuen Reiches,” in: Krieg und Sieg: Narrative Wanddarstellungen von Altägypten bis ins Mittelalter, M. Bietak and M. Schwarz, eds. (Vienna, 2002), 19–41. Add A.R. Al-Ayadi, The Inscriptions of the Ways of Horus (Ismailia, 2006), but the study is limited. Inter alia, see A. Spalinger, “A Garland of Determinatives,” JEA 94 (2008), 139–64.



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Mediterranean that were able to contest such domination. At the same time inland, Egypt’s war machine had pushed far north into the region of Amurru and Kadesh, the later situated on the small Orontes River. The Egyptian army had two directions to proceed by land, upward via Megiddo and through the Beqa Valley to Kadesh and then further northeast or directly across from one of the Lebanese ports. A chariotbased military was essential for this expansion, and the contemporary accounts, especially those of Thutmose III from his fifth campaign onwards, reveal this strategic policy. By the reigns of Thutmose III and Amunhotep II armed conflict in Syria was commonplace.25 Mitanni had the logistic advantage of being a power located far away from Egypt yet adjacent to Syria. The rate of progress of pharaoh’s army, for example, could never exceed 25 km/day.26 Provisioning was always a problem. After all, an army marches on its stomach. Despite supplies brought with the invading troops, Egypt needed to have full control over the small city-states to the northeast. The agricultural lands surrounding the various tells of Western Asia could provide the required fodder for the horses and the local city states would be ordered to supply food for the soldiers. Yet all of this depended upon security. Thus it is not unexpected that during their campaigns the Egyptian monarchs often had to insure the loyalty of various city-states. Thutmose III, for example, often found opposition to his campaigning in Syria an all too frequent obstacle to his wishes. After all, who was in effective control when the king left the region? From the period of the expulsion of the Hyksos through to the consolidation of Egyptian power in Asia (including southern Syria) and Nubia (at the Fourth Cataract), the military moved higher and higher within the social hierarchy of the day. Its importance in Dynasty XVIII must be seen in contrast to the established positions of the civilian bureaucrats. As indicated above, the highest-ranking members of the Egyptian army were placed at the front in the king’s household hierarchy. This was not the case in earlier times. Hence, one should not be surprised to read later attacks upon the soldier’s life that the 25   The key battle of Megiddo is covered in detail by G. Cavillier, Thutmosi III, Chapter 5; D.B. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III, passim, but especially Chapter One; and A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapter 5. 26   For these logistic constraints and other data, see A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapter 2 and especially p. 43 note 1.

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Miscellanies provide.27 Yet, and this is the key point, none of those tractates disparage the high officials of the army or the charioteers. Elite sectors of the Egyptian military were purposely ignored. The empire, after all, needed soldiers, not merely for intermittent campaigns but also for administration, garrison duties, as well as to conduct the minor brushfire wars so ruthlessly described in those Miscellanies.28 These literary accounts first appear at the end of Dynasty XIX. Whether or not they only reflect the social tensions of the day or indicate earlier prevailing attitudes is a problem that cannot be resolved in this discussion. Nonetheless, it is significant that by the Amarna Period the Egyptian chariotry had become more specialized and was placed in the superior position of importance. This sector of the New Kingdom army was the elite one. Then too, royal sons were trained in the chariotry and became generals if not generalissimos.29 Hence, a superior ethos of the virility and success of chariot soldiers had already been created in Dynasty XVIII, one that would continue later during the Ramesside period. After all, was not pharaoh the chariot warrior par excellence? A military flavor penetrated deep within the social attitudes of the New Kingdom social relations. One can find it in the literary output of this era, and not only in the heroic deeds of the pharaoh.30 See. For example, the Doomed Prince, an early Dynasty XIX literary “Late Egyptian Story.” Tomb biographies also stressed this side of contemporary society, and in those hieroglyphic accounts there is the expected emphasis on virility, battlefield prowess, loyalty to the

27   See note 8 above. The opposed corporation, the military, may not have seen the need for any riposte even if it were necessary. Yet I cannot bypass the issue of the frequently interlinked nature of warriors and scholars, and may be permitted to cite the work of perhaps the greatest nineteenth century American Classicists, B.L. Gildersleeve, The Creed of the Old South 1865–1915 (Baltimore, 1915). 28   Spalinger’s study is cited in note 8 above; add R. Partridge, Fighting Pharaohs, Chapter 4 for a general survey. 29   This is ably covered by A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 79–91; for additional information add M.M. Fischer, The Sons of Ramesses II (Wiesbaden, 2001). 30   A. Spalinger, The Transformation of an Ancient Egyptian Narrative: P. Sallier III and the Battle of Kadesh (Wiesbaden, 2002), chapter XI; A. Gnirs, “Das Motiv des Bürgerkriegs in Merikare and Neferti: Zur Literatur der 18. Dynastie,” in: Jn.t D̠ rw: Festschrift für Friedrich Junge, G. Moers, H. Behlmer, K. Demuß, and K. Widmaier, eds. (Göttingen, 2006), 207–65; and A. Gnirs and A. Loprieno, “Krieg und Literatur,” in: Militärgeschichte des pharaonischen Ägypten: Altägypten und seine Nachbarkulturen im Spiegel aktueller Forschung, R. Gundlach and C. Vogel, eds. (Paderborn, Munich, Vienna, and Zurich, 2009), 243–308.



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commander-in-chief (pharaoh) and the like. These attitudes were not at all prevalent during earlier times. Thus by the early Ramesside Period major changes, and not mere technological ones, had taken place within Egypt that were dependent upon the important role of the army. If all pharaohs had to fulfill the role of “King in Battle,” that aspect had clearly been become one of the major contemporary attributes of kingship. Percolating downward into the elite sectors of New Kingdom society was thus the enhanced role of the military with the chariot elite on the top. Any attempt to demarcate strict boundaries between the economic sectors of the New Kingdom state and the roles and functions of high military officials is fraught with difficulties. At the minimum, generals, as the older significance of the Egyptian phrase reveals—“overseers of the host/army”—still performed expedition and building activities, duties that can be traced back to at least the Old Kingdom. Then too, many high-ranking officers ended up holding equivalent civilian positions at home. Officers, regularly stationed in Nubia, could become governors exercising similar administrative activities in Egypt. There appears to have been an increasing concentration of military men in state positions by the reign of Ramesses II. Some were garrison commanders and generals whereas other moved from a military career to civilian duties later in life. Earlier, the career of Senenmut, Hatshepsut’s major-domo, is often cited as a case in point even though the time frame is early-mid Dynasty XVIII. Perhaps the most striking examples of this alteration in professional life may be seen in the rise to power of key military leaders at the close of the Amarna Period.31 We may point out the following very high nobles: Ay, the vizier and future pharaoh who earlier was a high ranking man in the army, the vizier Paramesses, later Ramesses I, who likewise owed his earlier success to the Egyptian war machine, and the general Horemheb, who also moved from his military position to that of vizier and king. Other, perhaps lesser-known individuals, include the “hereditary prince and generalissimo” Nachtmin II. The presumed “move” from a military career to a civilian one was not as sharply recognized as a change in life as we perceive today. (This is often viewed as one of “retirement” from active military life.)

31   These facts are ably presented by A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, pp. 17–40 and 91–117.

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Some chariot officers became temple officials or priests. Others took upon the function “messengers” (actually emissaries) and even saw their final years in the “harim” of the pharaoh. At the beginning of this discussion we have stressed that the highest ranks of the military were considered to be dependent upon pharaoh just as were civilian men. The concept of a separate civilian bureaucracy standing aside and opposed to a military one is not all that accurate. Yet by the reign of Akhenaton inwards, Egypt had to deal with a threat greater than Mitanni in the north, the Hittites, and this powerful state became the major opponent of Egypt.32 It is within the transitory period of Amarna, during the reign of Horemheb and then under the early Ramessides, that the Egyptian army came to play an even greater role in society than earlier.33 How much this was caused by the alterations in military organization remains a presently unsolvable question.34 Nevertheless, there is little doubt that the Egyptian society of Dynasties XIX and XX had become more militarized. One can point out the increased role of foreign mercenaries within the warrior corporation, such as the Sherden, as well as the various “strongholds” in the north (Delta and Fayum area) in which they were placed.35 Yet the ideology of the day also reinforced this preponderance. The significant role of kings’ sons in the army as well as the increased visual emphasis upon the king’s heroic deeds in the field likewise indicate a greater military aspect of royalty. This is not to say that the XVIIIth pharaohs played down the warrior aspect of kingship. Rather, as the rise to power of Sethnakht, founder of the XXth Dynasty, and the evidence of late Dynasty XX prove, the enhanced importance of the army affected internal matters, even subsequent to the end of the empire in Asia. The viceroys, who administered all of the Nubian provinces of Egypt (Wawat in the north and Kush in the south), came into being at the close of the Second Intermediate Period when the key Second

32   R.H. Beal has provided for the scholar a welcome volume on the military of the Hittites: The Organization of the Hittite Military (Heidelberg, 2002). Add Trevor Bryce, Hittite Warrior (Oxford and New York, 2007). There is an intriguing statement of Bryce on p. 10 of his study where he argues for “chronic manpower shortages” in the kingdom of the Hittites. This issue needs exploration. 33   G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, pp. 151–61; A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapters 12–13. 34   A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapter 11. 35   See now G. Cavillier, Gli Shardana nell’ Egitto Ramesside (Oxford, 2005).



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Cataract site of Buhen was retaken by the Egyptians.36 Many of the later viceroys owed their eventual success to earlier military careers in the north. Huy II, for example, was chief of the border post of Sile (Tjaru) and also a marshal before he was appointed to administer Nubia for his monarch. Later viceroys came from positions associated with the chariotry or even the temple administration in Thebes. It must not be forgotten that in Nubia an effective system of military control had been laid by the early pharaohs of Dynasty XVIII. The area was controlled in such a fashion that a direct line of command ran up from the viceroy to the vizier and thus to the king. In Asia, on the contrary, there were local garrison commanders in three key regions (Gaza, Megiddo, and Kumudi in southern Syria) but lacking was a strict pyramidal system that can be seen in the southern Egyptian-run territories. The Egyptian army in Palestine and Syria served a very different role that it did in Nubia.37 The local princes or rulers were permitted much independent leeway so long as they did not reject Egyptian sovereignty. The numbers of Egyptian troops in many cities never were large. Indeed, it has been estimated that the military presence of Egypt was not great. Those soldiers had to deal with minor yet persistent difficulties with the border regions as well as possibly internecine disputes in Asia. By and large, the kings assembled their army in the eastern Delta and marshaled at Gaza in order to quell major insurrections. But even the Ramesside anti-military tractates support the contention that the daily life of soldiers abroad was mundane and associated with “keeping the peace,” especially by attacking raiders at the borders of Egyptian territories; e.g., at Beth Shan at the Transjordanian limes. The rise to significance of the army during the New Kingdom in importance had to do with its success in laying the foundations of an empire and then holding them. But any expansionist policy carries with it more than the subjugation of other peoples. It means, above all, the ability to hold and administer foreign lands and to defend them against possible attack. The further that Egypt penetrated into the north the greater became the possibility that it would have to contest its conquests from external threats. In addition, natural limits, determined 36   A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, pp. 134–41; add C. Raedler, “Zur Repräsentation und Verwirklichung pharaonischer Macht in Nubien: Der Vizekönig Setau.” 37   G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, pp. 105–12; and A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapters 8–9.

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by distance, topography, and ecology play a deciding role in empire building. To the south, owing to the accessibility of transporting military personnel on the Nile, it first appeared that Egypt could extend its boundaries with little difficulty. Yet even though the Nubians did not possess the military technology on a par with Egypt, they also provided a brake upon its imperialistic tendencies. Under Kamose, and his immediate successors, Ahmose, Amunhotep I, and Thutmose I, the Egyptian army proceeded further upstream eventually reaching, and then conquering, the kingdom of Kush. The last of these pharaohs established a policy based on indirect rule, permitting local potentates to have some semblance of independence without, however, enjoying any freedom. But this policy was short-lived. Asia, unlike Nubia, consisted of advanced city-states, each containing a relatively sophisticated Late Bronze Age technology that included an equivalent use of chariot-run armies. Moreover, the Asiatic territories, although in conflict with one another from time to time, could call upon outside resources if need be. Thus it comes as no surprise that, despite the expansionistic policies of Thutmose I and Hatshepsut, Egypt found any involvement in the north more difficult than in the south. We have already mentioned the necessity of rapid marches over land and the concomitant requirement of controlling the main arteries for transportation and communication. First, the Sinai had to be organized in a sophisticated fashion in order to enable large armies to penetrate across that inhospitable region. Most certainly, by the reign of Hatshepsut, the Egyptians had established a well-organized system of supply by means of fortresses, wells, and provisioning centers. Gaza, as well, became the staging point for further advances. In Palestine, however, the army faced considerably more difficult challenges. The major campaigns of the XVIIIth Dynasty occurred under Hatshepsut and her stepson Thutmose III.38 There is clear evidence of earlier warfare under Thutmose I who remarkably advanced to the Euphrates. How this was accomplished remains a problem to modern scholarship.39 The lack of any large kingdom able to oppose the Egyptians is often

38  D. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III provides the necessary overview in conjunction with a detailed study of Thutmose III’s wars in Asia. 39   Above in notes 23–24 I have adumbrated the necessity of a detailed study of the Egyptian system of control in Sinai at a date preceding that of Thutmose III’s Megiddo campaign. Of no less significance is to analyze the logistics and politics of Canaan at a time under Thutmose I.



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claimed to be the reason why the imperium was able to move rapidly northwards. But we must remember that the Egyptians already had a fleet in the eastern Mediterranean, one that was able to control the ports of Lebanon and thus exert, at an early phase in this expansion, indirect control over the Levant. Added to this was Egypt’s ability to provide material supplies to armies that reached Syria by means of the Levantine ports. Finally, the absence of a large kingdom in Palestine meant that Egypt was able to conquer the region with a minimum of difficulty.40 Just as Syria was far away from the Nile river, so too was Palestine distant from the sinews of Mitanni, whose center of power lay at the Euphrates and further inland to the east. The war deeds of the Egyptian monarchs, especially those of Thutmose III and his son Amunhotep II, starkly reveal the difficulties that the Egyptian army would have faced abroad in the north. A major stumbling block to the success of the Egyptians was the difficult in securing control over her newly subdued cities in Asia. Armies simply cannot hold regions unless some type of permanent occupation in put into place, one supported by civilian and military personnel coupled with garrisons and regular patrols. The latter had to be supplied by local means. Egypt could not send, on a regular basis, an army and war material northwards by means of rivers. Instead, it was either necessary to embark on a major campaign to crush a whole scale rebellion, on that involved a coalition of the Asiatic states in Palestine, or else to establish a large occupying army. The latter proved impossible, quite possibly owing to the immense expense it would entail. Thus began the fateful series of military attacks, all led by pharaohs Thutmose III and his son Amunhotep II, that highlight Egypt’s armed strength in the middle of Dynasty XVIII. By the close of Dynasty XVIII administrative set-up was established in a regular and orderly fashion even though important changes were to occur later on.41 On top were, of course, the generalissimos, but that title, often confused with “general,” appears to have been held by few non-royals. The so-called “adjutants” or “lieutenants,” are hard to place within the military hierarchy. The “chariot warrior” was 40   This political situation is connected to the arguments surrounding Egypt’s military policy in Palestine and Syria; namely, was it destructive or not? See A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, pp. 65–6 note 7 for the scholarly debate. 41   A. Schulman, Military Rank, Title, and Organization; and J. Yoyotte and J. Lopez, BiOr 26 (1969), 3–11.

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distinguished from the “chariot officer,” and the former title disappeared by the middle of Dynasty XIX. The chariot shieldbearer was distinguished from the “chariot driver.” A “company” (s¡) included a standard-bearer, adjutant, platoon leader, the necessary scribe, and the ordinary infantryman. Gnirs has stressed the high position of the “troop commander” (Schulman’s translation), a rank that the highest offices of the army held, at least by the end of Dynasty XVIII.42 She has also argued that the “fieldmarshall” (her terminology), first known from the reign of Amunhotep III, was connected with the chariotry. The official hieroglyphic records of Thutmose III, carved in the temple of Karnak, provide our major source for this continual warfare and they are contained within a detailed narrative format.43 They are, in fact, the first New Kingdom written accounts of a pharaoh that describe in any detail actual warfare. Significantly, they reflect the new ethos of royalty and the martial aspect of the day. In addition to their historical importance, the “Annals” of Thutmose III are the first literary accounts that solely concentrate on the heroic self-centered deeds of the monarch. Providing detailed military information, this war record also reveals the personal side of the commander-in-chief. The youthful pharaoh appears as a wise campaigner, one whose policies are always successful, even when faced with seemingly insurmountable odds. In the Megiddo campaign, for example, the emphasis of the written account is upon Thutmose’s keen strategic sense, one that enabled him to determine the exact route to success against the important inland city of Megiddo. He is depicted as a far-sighted planner, one whose policies are correct and perspicacious, and a general whose decisions, in variance to those of his army commanders, are always correct. To highlight his success, Thutmose’s plans are presented though a dialogue with those leaders who were unable to realize the deeper significance of war planning. Thutmose III’s account therefore reveals to us what the role of the commander-in-chief, the pharaoh, had to perform. It is assumed that the army of Thutmose that advanced against Megiddo numbered between 10,000 and 20,000 men. How many Egyptian troops later fought in Syria against Mitanni remains an   A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 10–12.   Once more the reader is alerted to D. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III. Add now P. Lundh, Actor and Event: Military Activity in Ancient Egyptian Narrative Texts from Tuthmosis II to Merenptah (Uppsala, 2002). 42 43



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open question. Yet this fighting must have been costly. And even if he was successful, Thutmose had to set in place permanent garrisons and administrators in order to secure the Egyptian “peace” in the far north. Entanglements always take place when any state encroaches upon what is perceived to be territory run, or even influenced, by another power. The crucial aspect for an imperium is knowing where to stop, or where to hold the line and advance no further. This is the somewhat lugubrious nature of the limits of military power. In many ways, the Egyptian army and its rapidly expanding role within Egypt, both socially and economically, was obliged to push further and further northeast into Syria. But what was the purpose of this fighting? Did it become more than a test of strength between two superpowers and turn into a personal “duel” between Thutmose III and his Mitannian opponent? Did honor, valor, or even hubris come to play a part in this continual warfare? Later at the close of Dynasty XVIII Egypt became involved once more in a series of wars with yet another major power in the Ancient Near East. This time it was with the kingdom of the Hittites, centered in Anatolia. It was the kingdom of Hatti which now took the role of the imperialistic aggressor. In the reign of Akhenaton a second major war in the north commenced. It remains an open question whether the Hittite threat encouraged the alterations in the military organization. Yet Egyptological scholarship contrasts the different system of the Ramesside Period with that of the pre-Amarna Period of Dynasty XVIII. Most certainly, the Egyptian residence governor’s system in Asia of the later age seems to have been a new one.44 The military system in Asia, for example, especially on the borders of control, was dependent upon a series of local garrisons, each with their own commander and far more effective than previously. Noteworthy is the presence in the archaeological record of Egyptian military families residing abroad. Ramesses’ accounts of the battle of Kadesh provide a wealth of information concerning the organization of the army and its deployment. Ramesses had marched with four divisions, a fact that is partly reflected on one of Seti I’s accounts, a stela erected at Beth Shan, which also indicates a parallel disposition of troops, this time into three divisions. The visual accounts of the Battle of Kadesh on the temple walls in Egypt reveal that the army marched on foot with the chariotry   E. Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism, 382–611.

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protected by the infantry. Each division was separated from its companions, as befits accepted tactical dispositions of a marching army. Ramesses had also arranged that a fifth division would move eastward from the Levantine coast in order to meet up with his main army at Kadesh. One can then hypothesize that similar plans were followed earlier under Seti I or Thutmose III during his later wars in Syria. The Kadesh reliefs also permit us to reconstruct the camps which the Egyptians set up when on campaign. A stockade of shields may be seen in the visual representations of Ramesses II and guards surround the key entrances. The king’s tent would be placed in the middle surrounded by chariot. The horses were not linked to their chariots and provisioning centers were established for the animals as well as for the men. The camp was rectangular. Portable ovens were brought along. Heavy draft animals, bulls, were used to transport cumbersome military equipment and fodder. Because the chariots could be dismantled and carried by animals (although men are known to have lugged them for short distances on their backs), any Egyptian army could traverse narrow passages without much difficulty. This is well known from the account of the Megiddo campaign of Thutmose III. Scouts were also employed, and the Kadesh records show men on horseback, without saddles, scurrying here and there at the time that the Hittites attacked Ramesses’ camp. One can compare these detailed records with the later war accounts of Merenptah, Ramesses II’s son, and Ramesses III of the XXth Dynasty.45 Here, we also are lucky to possess written and visual accounts of their wars. Under both Egypt was faced with actual invasions. From the west came the Libyans, who, though not possessing a mighty chariot arm—indeed, they had few of these war vehicles—were nonetheless formidable. Garrisons not far from the western Delta, first erected by Ramesses II, could not provide much defense owing to their limited size and purpose. In essence, they could be circumvented by large masses of Libyan troops, the core of which consisted of archers. Furthermore, 45   Two edited volumes deserve particular mention: A. Leahy, ed., Libya and Egypt, c. 1300–750 BC (London, 1990); and E. Oren, ed., The Sea Peoples and their World: A Reassessment (Philadelphia, 2000); add G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, pp. 177–83; A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, Chapters 14–15; and S. Snape, “The Emergence of Libya on the Horizon of Egypt,” in Mysterious Lands D. O’Connor and S. Quirke, eds. (London, 2003), 93–106. For Merenptah and the Libyans there is now the up-todate study of C. Manassa, The Great Karnak Inscription of Merneptah (New Haven, 2003).



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allies of Sea Peoples, as they are called in the Egyptian records, supplied the westerners with more advanced weapons of war.46 The Libyan threat was dangerous owing to the proximity of the invaders to the agricultural regions of the west Delta. In essence, Merenptah, and later Ramesses III, was faced by large onslaughts of fighting men who came with their families. Their desire was not for mere booty nor simple raiding but aimed at settlement within the confines of the northern region of Egypt. The Egyptians could not sally forth deep into the Libyan Desert with their standing army. This was logistically impossible owing to provisioning of the army and the ever-present danger of lack of water. The western garrisons, for example, suited a defensive purpose, one that was geared to limiting minor incursions and perhaps to fight brush wars. Merenptah and Ramesses III were forced to marshal their troops in the north and to move somewhat westward outside of Egyptian held territory, yet still remaining close to their defensive perimeter. The wars against the Libyans aimed at defeating the enemy rather than that of conquest. There were three major conflicts. Each one focused at repelling the westerner troops but subjugating the tribes. (There was also an attempt to influence these tribespeople by means of choosing their leader.) It is interesting that Merenptah places emphasis upon his elite archer division and not merely his chariots. His plans seemed to have assumed that the major fighting would occur by means of these specialized infantry. Subsequently, the chariots divisions would be employed. Therefore, these conflicts were played with rules different from those employed in Asia. In recorded history it is known that the Egyptian employed mercenaries or, a sometimes indicated, conscript troops. As early as the Old Kingdom Nubian soldiers are known.47 In the New Kingdom these southerners formed only one part of the new standing army. By the middle of the 19th dynasty foreign Sea Peoples, the Sherden, were added to the ranks. In fact, in the Kadesh reliefs we can see them guarding the camp and person of Ramesses in the Kadesh reliefs, and

46  D. O’Connor has presented the data in his contribution “The Nature of Tjemhu (Libyan) Society in the Late New Kingdom,” in: Libya and Egypt, c 1300–750 BC, A. Leahy, ed., pp. 56–7. 47   See our remarks in section IV below.

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they are mentioned in his length war record, the Poem.”48 Later, the Sherden became permanent inhabitants of the north and were sequestered in various strongholds. Many were settled owners of small plots of land and thus were integrated within Egyptian society. Whether this was solely due to their fighting prowess and effective weaponry are questions that still need a definitive answer. Yet the static if not decreasing population base of Egypt in the Ramesside Period may have influenced the decision of the pharaohs to employ these fighters.49 The decreasing numbers of free and able bodied Egyptian men for the military arm of the state might have lead to the practice of employing more foreign troops within the war machine. Merenptah and Ramesses III had to deliver their kingdom from invasion. The Libyans may have been technologically inferior enemies whose number of troops were smaller than the Egyptians. But this enemy was able to use the western caravan routes in the desert in order to penetrate the borders of Egypt from the north to the south. They provoked an uprising in Nubia under Merenptah and later, after the death of Ramesses III, were able to infiltrate the south of Egypt by means of these desert paths. Yet the attack was concentrated at the northwestern Delta zone of Egypt and the number of Egyptian armed opponents was large on all three occasions of attack. Fighting was not centered around a strategic city such as Kadesh, Megiddo or even Beth Shan In Asia. In the north even though the Egyptian and Hittites eventually came to a modus vivendi in Asia, possibly through shear exhaustion and expenditure of arms and men, this did not mean that either power could rest and recuperate. Owing to disturbances in the Aegean and western Anatolia, other seafaring peoples took the opportunity, quite possibly owing to the weakened condition of the two former opponents, Hatti and Egypt, but more probably due to their marine 48   For a literary analysis of the Kadesh texts, see T. von der Way, Die Textüberlieferung Ramses’ II. zur Qadeš-Schlacht (Hildesheim, 1984). One can now add D. Liesegang, Text und Bild in der Wiedergabe der Qadeš-Schlacht (Heidelberg University Magisterarbeit) (Heidelberg, 2008). 49   The difficulty in assessing the population in the Late New Kingdom was a problem that I explored in War in Ancient Egypt. See pp. 202–03, 260, and 274–5 in particular. In that work I was dependent upon the seminar volume of K.W. Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt (Chicago and London, 1976). Outside of his work on the demography of pharaonic Egypt, little has been written—I am not referring to the studies in Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt—even though attempts have been cautiously made with regard to the average size of an Egyptian family.



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abilities. Lands along the coasts were particularly vulnerable to these marauders. Ramesses II, for example, had to defend the mouths of the Nile from Sherden pirates at the beginning of his reign. This group of Sea Peoples had been known to be dangerous from the reign of Amunhotep III at the close of Dynasty XVIII.50 Now there appear, at least in the written records of Egypt and the Hittites, to have become more prevalent. Under Merenptah they aided the Libyans and we may conclude that portions of the eastern Mediterranean littoral was threatened by unexpected attacks. By themselves, however, the Sherden could topple a major kingdom. Owing to the weakening conditions of the Mycenaean “kingdoms” in Greece coupled with increasing difficulties on the part of the Hittites to control affairs in western Asia Minor, a series of geopolitical and military events shifted the political conditions in the vast region of the eastern Mediterranean. Mycenae fell to the Dorian invaders thus triggering off a series of waves of military advances. Some of the fleeing inhabitants moved on to Cyprus whereas others spread to the coasts of Anatolia. Further advances of enemy troops attacked and subdued Cyprus while additional troops, perhaps with their families, marched inland to the capital of the Hittites. It is futile to characterize these Sea Peoples as a nation or even a coalition of tribes. Their success, on the other hand, was due to their prowess on water as well as on land. The major kingdoms of Egypt and the Hittites were ill prepared to parry the threat. Just as the Libyans brought along with them their families, so did the Sea Peoples. The advance of the latter was primarily directed at the coastal territories and owing to their strategy, if it could be called that, land based armies geared for defense and infrequent campaigns were ineffective against raiders, especially if they followed a practice of “hit and run.” Indeed, it was unclear where, exactly, the Sea Peoples would attack. Hence, the Sea Peoples’ threats were intermittent, unpredictable, yet devastating to coastal settlements. Under Ramesses III one major clash occurred in his eight regnal year. The Egyptian historical records, once again both pictorially and in written form, describe the war as a two pronged one. By land and by sea, it is claimed, these enemies attempted to invade Egypt. Even if we disregard the Egyptian perception of the actual threat, how did this occur?

  For a recent analysis of these warriors, see G. Cavillier, Gli Shardana.

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The Egyptian state under Ramesses III had already met the Libyans in battle three years preceding the Sea People’s attacks. (Ramesses III’s first defeat of the westeners was in his fifth regnal year.) Around this time the Hittite kingdom was in a process of total collapse. The coastal territories of the eastern Mediterranean had already been attacked. Ugarit, on the Lebanese coast far north, a Hittite client state, had fallen. Cyprus, recently reconquered by the Hittites, was lost. Crete likewise was in a state of anarchy. Indeed, the capital of the Hittites, must have been sacked by the time the Sea Peoples moved south from the coast of Syria into Palestine. The Egyptians, ready to defend their lands to the west for fear of Libyan attacks, were ill prepared to move the mass of its army north into Asia. The strategic problems for the Egyptian monarch had grown considerably. Ramesses III had to defend the Delta from western attacks while at the same time prepare for an eastern invasion of his Palestinian territories. Surely this meant that he had to divert many of his troops to the north and thereby weaken his northwestern perimeter. The double attack is a theme of this king’s war records. Well-preserved in his mortuary temple on Western Thebes at Medinet Habu, these royal accounts specifically mention the fall of the Hittites and other city-states in Asia.51 The reliefs carved at this temple divide the historical accounts into two, as does the lengthy narrative account dated to his eighth regnal year. The king marshaled his troops and led them into Palestine. The exact location of the clash is unknown, but from the later weakness of Egyptian control over this area, and which receded quite swiftly, it is reasonable to place the battle on the coastline and near to the Biblical region of Philistia. There was a second attack at the Nile mouths of the Delta. In both the pictorial and written records the connection of this battle to the land invasion remains unclear. Some have argued that the military encounter on water was fortuitous and not meant as an invasion. Others, perhaps more reasonably, have seen the sea battle as a later phase in the king’s eighth regnal year when he returned to Egypt after resisting   A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, 249–56: with particular stress on the detailed analyses of D. O’Connor, “The Sea Peoples and their Egyptian Sources,” in The Sea Peoples and their World, E. Oren, ed., 85–102; and E. van Essche-Merchez, whose publications are crucial: “La syntaxe formelle des reliefs et de la grande inscription de l’an 8 de Ramsès III à Medinet Habu,” CdE 67 (1992), 211–239, and “Pour une lecture “stratigraphique” des parois du temple de Ramsès III à Medinet Habou,” RdÉ 45 (1994), 87–116. 51



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the Sea Peoples on land. If so, the second interpretation implies that Ramesses III fought a flotilla of the Sea Peoples after they were unable to support the land-based advance southwards. (Owing to the pictorial arrangement of this naval battle, it is unclear how many enemy ships were engaged. Egyptian representations aimed for realism and not verisimilitude.) Whatever the correct interpretation might be, it is reasonably clear that Egypt was once more on the defensive. Although successful the Pharaoh had to prepare for yet another Libyan attack, one that took place three years after the war with the Sea Peoples. The close proximity in time between the two Libyan attacks—a mere six years—with the Sea Peoples’ encounter occurring right in the middle, indicate that the Egyptians could not avoid being on the defensive. Consider the areas of conflict. In year five came the first Libyan march and the resulting slaughter in the west, but reasonably close to the Ramesside garrisons.52 In year eight the Sea Peoples were the threat. The monarch had to turn to Palestine but also defend the coast of the Delta. Then three years later, he was once more fighting in the Libyan Desert. Logistically, there had to have been rapid deployment of troops, and the preparations for war ran from marshalling soldiers to provisioning the army with weapons, chariots, and foods. The locales of conflict as well as the type of enemy would have further placed great demands upon the state. Earlier in time, Merenptah emphasized the call to his archer division and the preparations for war against the Libyans with a focus upon Lower Egypt. We may presume the same occurred under Ramesses III. His capital, located at Avaris (Tell ed-Daba in the northeast Delta) is admirably suited for warfare in the Asia.53 Founded under Seti I, but effectively built and completed by Ramesses II, Avaris had waterway outlets to the Mediterranean and thus had a naval orientation. It was also one of the two the key centers, if not the major one, of

52   In particular, see E. Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism, pp. 611–45 and 774– 82 on the situation in Libya. Add now S. Snape, Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham (Bolton, 2007). 53   Owing to the voluminous research of the excavator at Tell ed-Daba, M. Bietak, I will list only a few of his many studies: “Avaris and Piramesse: Archaeological Exploration in the Eastern Nile Delta,” Proceedings of the British Academy 65 (1979), 225–90, Avaris: The Capital of the Hyksos: Recent Excavations at Tell el-Dab‘a (London, 1996), with N. Marinatos, C. Palivou, and A. Brysbaert, Taureador Scenes in Tell El-Dab‘a (Avaris) and Knossos (Vienna, 2007). The series, Tell el-Dab‘a (Vienna, 1975–present), presents the detailed results of Bietak’s excavations.

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the armament industry of Egypt. (The other one was Memphis, whose royal naval yards and war-based industry had been in place since the early 18th dynasty.) A highway leading to the garrison center of Sile also connected Avaris to the northeast border of Egypt. From there the military or commercial route of the “Ways of Horus,” led upward through the Sinai to Gaza. The new capital of the Ramessides close to Avaris, Pi-Ramesses, was built and expanded as a result of the growing importance of Asia and the eastern Mediterranean to Egypt. Finally, the Ramesside capital contained a number of elite troops, garrison soldiers, a massive shield-making industry, and the like. Avaris and the royal palace close-by at Pi-Ramesses were ideally suited to be the focal point of the empire. Yet it was vulnerable owing to its location. Threats from Asia and the Mediterranean eventually occurred under Dynasties XIX and XX. See, for example, Ramesses II’s fight with the Sherden and the later two-pronged attack of the Sea Peoples. Moreover, there was always the threat from Libya, and those western tribes received support from the Sea Peoples. The Ramesside center of Egyptian military and civilian administration was caught in the unenviable position of western and northern warfare close to his capital. Ramesses III must have moved back and forth, from east to west, then north, and then west, in the interval between his fifth and eleventh regnal years. Troops had to be sent northwards, perhaps even from Nubia. The cities of the Delta must have been fortified, or at least better protected. Merenptah, for example, whilst confronting the Libyans, refers in one inscription that the cities of the Delta were “closed” owing to the threat from the west. The Egyptian flotilla was likewise under considerable pressure from the Sea Peoples, as it had to protect the littoral of Palestine, if not also eastern Libya, and also to defend the Delta. The north of Egypt, significantly the center of political and military control, was under great pressure. Once the threats to its stability had lessened Egypt nonetheless had to accommodate itself to a different geopolitical situation.54 The army now began to play a role which became more and more defensive in nature. In Asia, some of the Sea Peoples had settled on the Palestinian coast. No longer did the Egyptian control the region by means of governors and dependent city-states. The Tjeker at the port city of 54   In general, G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerriero, 177–83; A. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, chapter 16; and Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 128–34 and 193–211.



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Dor, for example, as well as the historically famous Philistines (called Peleshet in the sources) effectively controlled the littoral and part of the inland. An inexorable Egyptian withdrawal from Asia took place so that by the middle of Dynasty XX all of her control had ceased. Moreover, owing to the increasingly defensive posture of the capital, Upper Egypt and Nubia became less important to the pharaohs in the north. The kings of Egypt came to rely more and more upon the local power of the High Priest of Amun who, by the reign of Ramesses IX, had to face disturbances in the territories of Nubia. As the power for the Theban pontiffs grew—the office had become virtually hereditary by this time—so did, perhaps logically, that of the kings’ viceroys. Eventually, internal conflicts arose during which warfare took place in Upper Egypt. This was instigated by the viceroy who, though eventually defeated, is one of many hallmarks of the rapid decline in imperial control. At the close of Dynasty XX Upper Egypt was run by the High Priest of Amun at Thebes and not the pharaoh. And when the chief priest also became a generalissimo, he thereby administered this region by might and cult. The historical changes that took place at the close of the New Kingdom were greatly influenced by the army. But the military had become internally directed and no longer performed the role of pacification of foreign rebels or went on campaigns abroad. We hear of Libyan incursions even in Upper Egypt while the northwest Delta saw gradual infiltration of settlers from the west. Unfortunately, a general picture of the Libyan pressure upon that region still remains a murky historical quandary. By the close of the XXth Dynasty the internal political situation in Egypt had altered enough to reflect the north-south geographical division, and a newly founded lineage, now centered at Tanis somewhat to the north of Avaris, took power. Connections to Asia still continued even if they were considerably weakened. The Tanite pharaohs still had to deal with Libyan infiltration or settlement in the western Delta, a quasi-independent Theban domain to the south, and the permanent loss of control over Nubia. The Middle Kingdom Consider the situation of the military centuries earlier which was considerably different from that of the New Kingdom. Nevertheless, a historical continuum in which various trends and developments may be observed. It has been recently claimed that the military sector “must

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have been an important part of Middle Kingdom administration.”55 This categorical statement is, in general correct, only if we keep in mind that the role of the Egyptian army was far less significant during Dynasties XI–XVII. The king and their armies managed to invade Nubia south of the Second Cataract and Asia as well, yet their impact was more limited than in later times. This was mainly due to the lack of transport vehicles—horses plus chariots—a major limit to their potential expansionist policies. At best, Egypt could rule over lands surrounding the Nile river and exact some degree of influence on the Lebanese port cities. Nevertheless, navies attack ports, armies conquer them. The ranking of the highest officials of the day can be partly reconstructed although the exact subdivisions in hierarchy are difficult to fathom. The “overseers of the host,” or “generals,” were on the top and, as has been recently noted, it was only in the XIth Dynasty that the generals became important at the royal court.56 No career path is known that stretched from a military function to a very important civilian one later in life such as treasurer or vizier. In the Middle Kingdom high-ranking warriors were not members normally connected to powerful families related to the throne (such as the army man Ay, later vizier, or even general Horemheb). The prosopographical data of the Middle Kingdom do not indicate a predominant influence of army men who became quite significant in the state, a situation not uncommon in the New Kingdom (e.g., note Senenmut’s cursus honorum).57

55  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom (London, 2009), 101 and Chapter 5 for the analysis. I differ from him somewhat in analyzing the societal role of these Middle Kingdom generals and other military leaders. 56  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, 101. 57   Cf. P.F. Dorman, The Monuments of Senenmut: Problems in Historical Methodology (London, 1988), 166 and 169; and L. Popko, Untersuchungen zur Geschichtsschreibung der Ahmosiden- und Thutmosidenzeit, 239–43. D. Stefanovic, The Holders of Regular Military Titles in the Period of the Middle Kingdom: Dossiers (London, 2006) presents an excellent list of the military ranks at this time. It is a perfect stepping-stone for a reconstruction of the organization of the army at this time. For her translation of mr mnf ¡t as “overseer of soldiers” I would prefer “overseer of the infantry.” S.J. Seidlmayer, “People; at Beni Hasan: Contributions to a Model of Ancient Egyptian Rural Society,” in: The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt: Essays in Honor of David B. O’Connor II, Z.A. Hawass and J. Richards, eds. (Cairo, 2007), 351–68 discusses the tombs of military personnel. Internal policing forces as well as “fighters” and three generals may be noted. There are 49 soldiers recorded by Seidlmayer. The archaeological evidence parallels that on the tomb decoration, as the author concludes. Note that the evidence is from one major site of Dynasty XII.



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Again, I suspect that this was due to the more limited nature of warfare at this earlier time.58 It is true that in the Second Intermediate Period royal family members were positioned in the military arm of the state. But we have to remember that southern Egypt, particular Thebes, was constrained both by northern invaders, the Hyksos, and southern Nubian razzias.59 Evidence from his period also shows an increasing importance of “king’s sons” who were non-royal by birth yet dependents of the royal largess.60 These men were middle ranking military officers who, as in the New Kingdom, were paid by the state apparatus and thus belonged to a standing army. How far back in time can this title (and thus function) be traced remains a quandary. At best, it can be surmised that “king’s sons” existed from Dynasty XII onwards. In fact, the original title for the viceroy of Nubia also contained these exact words (“King’s Son of Kush”). In addition to the chief of the army, acting under the king or his crown prince, there were provincial governors who brought along their own troops with them, This situation ended in the second half of XIIth Dynasty, and the best evidence occurs under the reign of Sesostris I.61 However, the situation in which the powerful “nomarchal”

58   But when there was warfare, especially during the latter phase of the Second Intermediate Period, the situation had altered. Naturally, if armed conflict arose of a significant nature, pharaoh and his sons participated. This became increasingly important during Dynasty XVII. One can refer to prince Herunefer, a general and son of a king Monthotep: R. Parkinson and S. Quirke, “The Coffin of Prince Herunefer and the Early History of the Book of the Dead,” in A.B. Lloyd, ed., Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths (London, 1992), 37–51. The identity of the monarch is unclear, but I follow the palaeographic analysis presented in this study (especially the reference to J. Cerny) and place the “eldest son of the king” Herunefer in Dynasty XVII. 59   Of particular importance, see P. Vernus, “La stele du pharaon Mnt ̱w-ḥtpi à Karnak: Un nouveau témoinage sur la situation politique et militaire au début de la D.P.I.,” RdÉ 40 (1989), 145–61. For later Dynasty XVII account of war see V. Davies, “Sobeknakht of El Kab and the coming of Kush,” Egyptian Archaeology 23 (2003), 3–6. In a military context the importance of the tomb is also in its depiction of a twowheeled catafalque. No spokes are present; the wheel is solid. The enemy is the king of Kush (Upper Nubia) who brought along Medjay peoples, men from Wawat (Lower Nubia), the extreme south (Khenethennefer) and the Puntities. One may question whether an “alliance” among these countries existed, but that is another matter. 60   B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen zum Titel S¡-nj«wt “Königssohn” (Bonn, 1976). 61   The key evidence is to be found in the texts of the well-known nomarch of Beni Hasan, Amenemhet. For convenience, see J.H. Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt I (Chicago, 1906), 251–2. Note that the nomarch accompanied his ruler, Sesostris I and on another occasion the king’s son (the future Amenemhet II).

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families drew upon their own resources to supply soldiers for the Nubian campaigns reflects the end of the earlier political rivalries in the First Intermediate Period. In other words, a gradual switch from a more decentralized system of governance, and which included the warrior class of provincial nomarchs, has to be taken into consideration. (This is often seen as part of the “reforms” of Sesostris III.)62 Yet some military officials were also connected to special missions in which their civilian nature was always present. The Egyptian military, even in Dynasties XII and XIII, had not yet been organized into a larger and well-defined institution as is evident in the New Kingdom. The effective level of military capability of the ancient Egyptians during this era has been analyzed.63 To take a case in point, the term for “youths,” a collective noun, is not opposed to the word for “army,” as a designation of reinforcements or recruits.64 Both terms are identical, as Berlev has noted. The principle of young age, evidenced by the Middle Kingdom designations “youth,” of “fine fellows,” referred to men above age fourteen or so, if not even younger. These common terms, applied to soldiers in the army, reflect the key aspect of the soldiery at this time. Both the terms for “infantry,” and in the narrow sense “host” or “army,” were solely connected to the infantry. The division of footsoldiers consisted of many “town regiments” in which the ordinary troops served, and were lead by commanders. Higher-ranking members of the army were those of the “table (= companions) of the ruler,” men who were overtly separated from the simple infantry. The former held a superior place in the war machine, as did the charioteers of the New Kingdom. In the XIIIth Dynasty account called P. Bulaq XVIII, for example, military men do not belong to those officials who received food from the palace despite the fact that petty bureaucrats and even artisans did. In the Middle Kingdom there were two parallel formations, the “anchu” (ʿnḫ w) and the “atju” (¡ṯw). The first term refers to those men who lived—i.e., “who were provided” by means of the host or army, and indicates 62   In general, see W. Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt (London, 2006), 51–8. 63   There is a helpful summary of the pictorial data of war at this time: A. Schulman, “Battle Scenes of the Middle Kingdom,” JSSEA 12 (1982), 165–83. 64   The reader should be aware that I have used the study of O. Berlev extensively in this chapter: “The Navy of the Middle Kingdom,” Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 6–20 (in Russian). His later study in French is “Les prétendus ‘citadins’ au Moyen Empire,” RdÉ 23 (1971), 23–47.



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“warriors.” An excellent example of the role that these men occupied may be read in the early Dynasty XII stela of Wepwapeto: “When I sailed to the north in order to inquire about the condition (of the king’s health), to this great capital of his majesty, his servants (literally: “treasurers”), who were in the house of the king, the soldiers/ warriors, who were before his gates, saw how they led me into the house of the king.”65 The emphasis upon virility, strength, and youthfulness is contained in the military designation “anchu”: “to be young” implies “to be virile,” “viable” or viably active.” Their superiors, the atju are referred to by a noun which is derived from a verb “to nourish” or “to nurse.” Therefore, it could also refer to a tutor. These atjus were military officers under whom were the “anchu” or “youths.” Officers were therefore considered to be “tutors” (male child-nurses) and the guardians of young men entrusted to them. The term “tutor,” however, is too literal. Again, we are dependent upon Berlev’s further elucidation of the various meanings of this collective noun. Basically the “tutors of the tjet (ṯt),” as they were called, were tutors of “detachments.” In many cases “naval teams” were specifically indicated. Moreover, one of the core meanings of the word involves ships, an important point because it then indicates the marine activity of the elite during the Middle Kingdom. From these conceptions came the even more general significance of “division” or “group.” In essence, the officers were part of a standing marine-based army, a fleet, and one that was clearly well organized. The Duties of the Vizier, which has to be placed in the Middle Kingdom despite scholarly debate, is of particular use as it allows us to determine the significance of these warriors.66 The “tutors of the naval team of the ruler” are brought into the palace together with the officials of the army in order to give to them military instruction.” In dispatches from the Nubian fortresses of the 12th dynasty we read that “young men of the town garrison” acted for the “young men

  O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 6.   If G.P.F. van den Boorn in his The Duties of the Vizier: Civil Adminsitration in the Early New Kingdom (London and New York, 1988) had consulted Berlev’s article, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), passim with p. 11 in particular, then perhaps he would not have dated the Duties to the 18th Dynasty. Cf. J.-M. Kruchten’s review of the work in BiOr 48 (1991), 829–31; and the earlier remarks of W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reiches (Leiden and Cologne, 1958), chapter 4 and his review of the work in OLZ 85 (1990), 529–30. I follow him in dating the text to the Late Middle Kingdom. 65 66

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of the naval team of the commander” and sent two warriors to him in order to report violations at the border. The sailors once more seem to be in a more advantageous or superior position than the ordinary soldiers or warriors. As Berlev indicated, it was the experience of the sailors, who had attended a better military school, and perhaps their quick wittedness, sharpened by the more difficult service in the fleet, that allowed these men to be employed as young officers. At the Nubian fortresses patrol were a regular means of ascertaining the threat of incursions from the South. It was at the Second Cataract that Egypt established a permanent boundary and prohibited any of the Nubians from traveling north without official permission. There was no automatic freedom of entry. Diplomatic relations were carefully monitored, and even if the Nubians came to trade and had no bellicose intent, they were not permitted to pass through this zone without intense scrutiny. The patrols were equipped to stop incursions and thus acted as mobile protecting forces. From the evidence of the granaries in these garrisons it is clear that the number of Egyptian troops was rather large. Barry Kemp’s evaluation of the volume of these storage areas within the fortresses has shown that at Askut the minimum amount of ration units could supply 3,668 men on an annual basis.67 But this figure, as well as others that were calculated by him (at Uronarti, Mirgissa, Kumma, and Askut), are excessive. Kemp concluded that the size of the granaries in the Nubia fortresses was dependent upon the need to supply grain for campaigns to the south, and not just for the local troops. In fact, the number of soldiers in some of these garrisons was not large. Kemp then advanced a more reasonable solution concerning the grain capacities at the Nubian fortresses.68 He argued, correctly in my opinion, that the grain was used to supply the Egyptian troops on a two-year basis. In other words, the volume capacities were large due to strategic reason of launching major campaigns upstream, and in particular to the kingdom of Kush around the Third Cataract. According to him Mirgissa played the role of a storage area for possible campaigns and Aksut was the major reserve source with Uronarti the campaign

67   B.J. Kemp, “Large Middle Kingdom Granary Buildings (and the archaeology of administration),” ZÄS 113 (1986), 120–36. 68   B. Kemp, ZÄS 113 (1986), 120–36.



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headquarters.69 This sophisticated analysis indicates that the entire border region at the Second Cataract was very complicated, and one that was not merely defensive, but rather also served as a point d’appui for extensive warfare upstream. Campaign support was relegated to those forts furthest south (Semna and Kumma) while downstream, and thereby protected, were Askut and Kumma. Uronarti, in fact, may have been the campaign headquarters for the pharaohs by the middle of Dynasty XII whereas Kor (further north) had performed the same role earlier. Egyptian border patrols marching outside of these garrisons could be lead by a “tutor of the naval team of the ruler.”70 One such man was the well-known Khusobek whose career military activity took place in his southern region as well as in Asia. He began his armed service as a “private” and later advanced in rank by the reign of Sesostris III. He was promoted to a position in the royal guard where he served until becoming an officer. Subsequently, he was elevated to be “great ruler of the town garrison” and still possessed this title by the time that Amenemhet III ruled Egypt. In the ninth regnal year of that pharaoh Khusobek, in Semna at the southern boundary, was the “tutor of the naval team of the ruler,” a clear case of promotion. There are two major sources from Dynasty XII that enable us to supplement these all too brief biographical comments of Khusobek when he deals with the campaign of his lord, Sesostris II against Sekmem in Palestine. Until recently, his biographical account was the major historical source of Egyptian warfare in Asia.71 The lengthy historical record of Amenemhet II, set up in the temple of Ptah at Memphis, provides important details concerning sea warfare.72 In addition, it clarifies to some degree the type of warfare practiced by these rulers of Egypt. One reference in the account briefly describes a campaign whose avowed purpose was to “hack up the enemy land 69   Cf. S.T. Smith, Askut in Nubia: The Economics and Ideology of Egyptian Imperialism in the Second Millenium B.C. (London and New York, 1995). 70   O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 9–10. His analysis can be added to the archaeological study of B. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (London and New York, 1989), 166–78. 71   O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967). 9–10. 72   The important edition of the text is that of H. Altenmüller and A.M. Mousa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. aus dem Ptah-Tempel von Memphis: Ein Vorbericht,” SAK 18 (1991), 1–48. Add S. Lupo, “The Inscription of Amenemhet II in the Temple of Ptah in Memphis: was there a real control of the Egyptian State over Kush during the Middle Kingdom?,” GM 198 (2004), 43–54.

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of Yua” in Asia. It was lead by the “general of the infantry of the host,” a title that fits into what we known of the military corporation of the Middle Kingdom and not the New. One further area of fighting appears to have been in the Lebanon, thereby indicating that some type of seaborne campaign was undertaken. Troops of footsoldiers were enlisted as well; they did not belong to the pyramid complex of Amenemhet II. Finally, the short account indicates that ordinary soldiers in this expedition were not those who had direct economic connections to the king. A more detailed reference in these “Annals” indicates that Amenemhet II’s martial activity against Juwa, described as a fortress-garrison Asian locality, was successful.73 The infantry-based army returned with weapons and other war material, and it is significant that many of the armaments were of bronze.74 Clearly, the Egyptians made an effort to deplete the enemy of its war potential. No chariots or horses are listed, although there is a question surrounding the possibility of 60 wheel parts taken as booty.75 At any rate, this campaign was similar to those of Dynasty XVIII when the Egyptians made a careful effort to secure as much military equipment from their Asiatic enemies as possible. Significantly, no attempt at securing permanent domination over the opponents is claimed by the pharaoh, and one suspects that this foreign locality, as well as a second, were located in southern Palestine. (Only the generic Egyptian term of [Re]tjenu is referred to, in contrast to the specific region of Lebanon.) Considerably further to the north the Egyptians moved upon the Lebanon, and Amenemhet II’s inscription makes a clear division between that Asiatic region and “Asia” in general. Two ships were sent to Lebanon whose purpose was to bring back minerals, metals,

73   E.S. Marcus, “Amenemhet II and the Sea: Maritime Aspects of the Mit Rahina (Memphis) Inscription,” Ä&L 17 (2007), 137–90 presents a detailed study of the Middle Kingdom’s relations with the Levant. This study provides a fundamental analysis of Egyptian sea trade and warfare in combination with a superb logistic viewpoint. 74   N. Amzallag, “From Metallurgy to Bronze Age Civilizations: The Synthetic Theory,” AJA 113 (2009), 497–519 presents a sophisticated contribution that deals with two modes of copper production: crucible metallurgy and the later use of furnace technology. The development of bronze technology is intimately connected with the development of the second art. 75   H. Altenmüller and A. Moussa, SAK 18 (1991), 13. They correctly add a question mark after the possible translation of “Sechspeichenrad,” Egyptian d̠ḥʿʿt.



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and other precious items such as trees and some weapons.76 Here we see once more the naval activity of Egypt at work. From an economic point of view this account further describes the system of payments given to army officials. The head of the expedition was the commander or general of the infantry/host. He was seconded by a leader of elite young men, thereby confirming Berlev’s analysis of the elite warriors of the Middle Kingdom. The text continues by adding the fact that the elite troops had partaken the land warfare against Juw and Iasy. The Khnumhotep III historical inscription at Dashur, recently elucidated by James Allen, sheds further light upon the sea activity of the Middle Kingdom rulers.77 Here, we read once more of military activity in the Lebanon. The head of the expedition, who directed his naval squadron at the ports of Byblos and Ullaza, was called the general (literally: “overseer”) of the host of sailors, a title more easily translated as “general of the naval expedition.” Once more, we can see the basic marine disposition of this age. One fragment of the account might indicate that the Egyptian army was dispatched “overland” to Lebanon, across an eastern Delta canal that was considered to be the border between Egypt and “the Asiatic land.” However, this seems improbable owing to logistic difficulties and transport ones. It is very implausible that a land based army, relying upon donkeys and infantry alone could have achieved such a far-reaching march unless they received some type of naval assistance. More probably, Khnumhotep’s text refers to more than one military encounter. As Allen perceived, the account places emphasis upon Lebanon with Byblos and Ullaza in particular. The maritime aspects of Amenemhet’s Ptah temple inscription have recently been elucidated further than unexpected in a lengthy study by Ezra Marcus.78 Ignoring the commercial and economic implications of Egypt’s external relations, and solely concentrating upon the basic military aspects, additional comments can be brought into discussion. One immediate problem is the looseness of modern translations concerned with the impost brought to Egypt. Marcus, for example

76   E. Marcus, Ä&L 17 (2007), 137–90, also provides a wealth of information concerning the contacts between Egypt and the countries in the eastern Mediterranean at the time of the Middle Kingdom. I am following his analysis at this point. 77   J.P. Allen, “The Historical Inscription of Khnumhotep at Dashur: Preliminary Report,” BASOR 352 (2008), 29–39. 78   E. Marcus, Ägypten und Levante 17 (2007), 137–90.

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consistently employs the word “tribute” which is incorrect. Likewise, he fails to distinguish between that term, jnw, and the second one that the Egyptian frequently employed, “work product,” b¡kw. It was the latter that the “Annals” of Thutmose III, for example, always employed for the requirement imposed by the Egyptian upon Lower Nubia or Wawat. Impost, jnw, not necessarily tax or even tribute, was the word solely used for exactions demanded by Thutmose from Upper Nubia or Kush. Distant in the political and geographical horizon of Egypt were such lands as Punt, way south in the heartland of Africa. Considering their presents to Egypt, one find that the term “marvels” or “gifts” was consistently applied. As Mario Liverani showed many years ago, there appears to have been a tripartite division of categories in which specific termini technici were employed.79 But it must be kept in mind that the specific type of text determines the use of these three words. Official royal inscriptions of a laudatory or propagandistic nature must be separated from the lowly hieratic account papyri whose message was quite different. The latter reflect, as might be expected, the workaday terminology and are thus, as a rule, more exacting and narrow in outlook whereas a monumental hieroglyphic inscription may reflect a very different outlook, one that could use archaic terminology and outdated words as well as possessing a looseness of vocabulary. In the “Annals” of Amenemhet the Nubians bring their work “products.” Thus physical labor is implied. None of the two terms automatically imply a war. In fact, the prince of Kush delivered his produce, b¡kw. We are confronted with nothing more than a delivery of minerals and other rare products such as incense. That is to say, Kush, which lay outside of Egyptian control in the XIIth Dynasty, in no way could be forced to provide tribute. South of the Second Cataract were independent kingdoms which, although wary of Egyptian military influence and having resisted it, were under no obligation to provide the pharaoh with costly items. No inhabitants from Upper Nubia were sent to the Egyptian court. The narrative of Amenemhet II stresses the arrival of various products from Asia brought the princes’ children— and 1,002 Asiatics are listed as well. This is a clear difference between Asia and Nubia, as revealed in a major account of Dynasty XII. But

79   His earlier work is summarized in Prestige and Interest, pp. 31–2, 243, and 255–66. See the two Egyptological studies referred to in note 3 above.



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the precise significance of this large delivery is unclear. Was a result of Egyptian success in war (i.e., booty) or more probably, “peace gifts.” The Lebanese expedition, on the other hand, was clearly one of trade. This can be argued by the reference to two ships which could not have contained a large number of military personnel. Indeed, the detailed list of produce brought back reveals that no razzia or campaign for plunder had taken place. Note the presence of 15,961 deben (one deben equals 91 grams) of copper, 4882 deben of what is presumed to be bronze; arsenical bronze might be argued. However, parts of Western Asia had already passed over to the “true” use of bronze technology where the compound of tin plus copper was now used. The reference to 39,556 deben of grinding stone surely was not garnered from warfare. If only 65 Asiatics came with their “work products,” then we must surmise that the Lebanese “foray” of Amenemhet had as its purpose trade although some warfare is not to be excluded. Marcus explained the logistic nature of the Middle Kingdom sea voyages in the eastern Mediterranean. It is doubtful one of the conquered lands mentioned in the text of Amenemhet indicate Cyprus.80 Indeed, the account specifically separates a land- based army from the expedition to the Lebanon in ships. Moreover, there is no indication that these two regions delivered their good to Egypt by ship. If the cargo list in the inscription indicates a 39,000 liters volume having a weight of 12,253 kilograms, we still are unclear as to the actual size of the ships. Nevertheless, it has been keenly recognized that the estimated minimum cargo weight and volume were considerably higher than what one could bring back on land. (Marcus states that the two ships provided “12 and 20 times that of the most abundant calculable goods brought back by land.”) In other words, as to be expected, the use of the navy was considerably more important for carrying trade than the land-based army. Various ports of call were identified by Marcus in his discussion of the maritime system of Middle Kingdom Egypt. But it remains unclear whether produce from southern Palestine solely was carried over the land route to the eastern Delta, or some type regular shipping was employed. (Most certainly, shipping goods from the coast of the Levant was a regular commercial activity at this time.) I do not feel that there was a sudden resumption of Egyptian relations with the Levant   E. Marcus, Ägypten und Levante 17 (2007), 146–8.

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in the Middle Kingdom, or, to be more precise, by early Dynasty XII. There is enough evidence, archaeologically and historically, to see the Heracleopolitans and early Theban Dynasty (XI) pursing a developed policy of trade with the Canaanites in southern Palestine as well as with Byblos (and vice-versa). We shall discuss the Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period warfare subsequently, but it is sufficient at this point to know that earlier sea-based expeditions from Egypt are known. During the Middle Kingdom there was a sharp contrast between the security people “of the town/nome” and the state-supported army. One may turn to the brief biographical remarks of a “tutor of the naval team of the ruler,” Tjau, who reports that he traveled as far as Avaris in the northeast Delta and also to Kush in the south.81 (At this time the second geographical designation referred to Nubian territory south of Egyptian control and thus included Upper Nubia, quite possibly further south than the Third Cataract.) Let us not forget that Tjau served part of his military service in the troops of Kamose. Hence, his data reflect a time during which Egypt was in a process of unification and also the reorganization of its army. The “commanders of the fleet” were superior to the “tutors of the naval teams,” and in the royal flotilla it were “captains of the ships” who had direct connections to their monarchs. In contrast, the royal guards, organized into squadrons with individual officers, did not have any special commander and were not able to be a link between the state and the palace as, for example the praetorian guards were during the Roman Empire. The fleet was the core or center of the Middle Kingdom war machine. The flotilla was at the direct command of the pharaoh with the king’s closest officials, the vizier at the apex of government, running this marine division. Therefore, unlike in the New kingdom, the vizier was the man who communicated directly to the ships’ commanders. Once more, the Duties to the Vizier indicate this earlier phase of Egyptian society, one that has to be dated before Dynasty XVIII. Berlev presumed that the largest royal fleet was located at the royal residence, which at this time was in Lisht. Another location is known from the rock inscription G 61 in the Wadi Hammamat.82 Monuments

  O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 18.   O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 9–10.

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of the naval personnel were, however, scattered all over Egypt. El Kab, a key center in Upper Egypt, and one of the centers of Dynasty XVII administration, is one known place. The tombs of Sobeknakht and, later in time, that of Ahmose son of Ebana, provide helpful information concerning the military importance of this city. Until now, it has been assumed that the royal fleet was mainly concerned with control over the Nubian region as well doing some police duties within Egypt. Recent evidence has shown that Egypt’s might was also felt by sea in Asia. The “Annals” of Amenemhet II and Khnumhotep III’s account prove that some type of indirect control was effected over Asia, but it was mainly by sea. The Egyptian rulers of Dynasty XII were able to ply the ports of the Levant and to act, in a hostile fashion, against any sign of resistance. This means that the royal flotilla played a considerable role, and not just logistically in war, in the eastern Mediterranean. But the campaigns recorded by Amenemhet II in conjunction to the biographical data from Khusobek indicate that the Middle Kingdom could operate aggressively on land, but the fleet was paramount. Evidence from the end of Dynasty XVII, both in the biography of Ahmose son of Ebana as well as in the Kamose Stela, indicate that this old term still persisted at the commencement of the New Kingdom. Yet one can see this far earlier in the hieratic story of The Shipwrecked Sailor, dated to the beginning of Dynasty XII. The infantry was considered to be a means of strengthening the core of the army, the fleet. The effective power of the Middle Kingdom footsoldiers lay in its archery divisions and, to a lesser degree, in its “regular” troops. The latter carried large ox-hide shields, simple axes and javelins, but had no armor. This age, we must remember, was not yet attuned to the later developments of bronze. A remarkable large number of the military developments in armament and protection came to Egypt from Asia. We can mention the adoption of duckbill axes and fenestrated ones as well as advanced quivers, all of which are know to have been foreign imports.83 The key differentiation between the fully developed army of the New Kingdom and that in the previous era of the Middle Kingdom is reflected best in the amphibious nature of the earlier institution. Thus, as in Dynasty XVIII and onwards, when the chariotry division was the attractive sector of the army for sons of the nobles, in the Middle   These detailed are covered later.

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Kingdom it was the fleet that provided the positions of importance. The officers of the Middle Kingdom infantry were usually campaigners. In early Dynasty XIII we note that kings’ sons performed their virile tasks among the naval ranks. Captain Rasoneb, the sons of a naval captain Rasoneb, himself a member of the royal family, was married to the niece of the royal wife of king Sobekemsaf II. Captain Nedjesanchuju was married to the princes Khashepsut. Connected to the royal house was the offspring of several high officials and the hereditary “nomarch” (better: governor) of El Kab, Kebesi, who sold his office to his relative and received the rank of captain. Four sons of one of his successors were also captains. It has been remarked that the property status of the Middle Kingdom naval officers is difficult to ascertain. One man possessed cattle, grain, and servants from the “slaves of the king.” Khusobek, when a youth serving in the guards, received a reward of 160 slaves. Berlev noted as well that Captain Rasoneb had a considerable number of slaves whereas the late Dynasty XVII officer Tjau “plowed with his own team and conveyed grain on his donkeys.” In the same period Nubkheperre’s Coptos Decree lists the key officials in that city who included a very high ranking warrior, a “king’s son,” (the military title) who was a commandant of the region.84 The royal decree was also addressed to the “whole army of Coptos,” thereby indicating a second factor that was of prime importance in the latter half of the Second Intermediate Period; namely, the presence of a standing army in one of the southernmost nomes. But the later biography of Ahmose son of Ebana provides considerably more information concerning the status of these soldiers. The tomb of this man is rather impressive as is its lengthy narrative inscription. El Kab, like Edfu, was located south of Thebes, and therefore was particularly important in the administrative and military aspects of the 17th dynasty Egyptian state. Earlier, as evidence from the XIIIth Dynasty tomb of Sobeknakht at El Kab proves, this city lay within the potential advance of enemy troops northward from Nubia. Subsequently in Dynasty XVII, El Kab was located with a relatively small but geographically homogeneous state centered in the southern nomes of Upper Egypt. Its center was Thebes, and therefore the

  Conveniently, see J. Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt I, pp. 339–41.

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religious center of Karnak with its godhead Amun had become particularly significant. The Coptos decree of Nubkheperre, albeit erected in the fifth nome of Upper Egypt and thus just north of Thebes, was another key sector of that state. It was militarily run through a local garrison commandant, although there was also a civilian administration lead by the governor of Coptos. The somewhat later “Tempest Stela” of pharaoh Ahmose indicates that there was a royal palace north of Thebes, and this has been plausibly identified with Deir el Ballas.85 Thebes as a unified kingdom in Dynasty XVII was effectively run by a strong centralized leadership that depended not only upon civilians but also the military, and the latter was one of its most powerful strengths. Ahmose son of Ebana’s biography indirectly reflects the era of transition, one that eventually saw the overthrow of the Hyksos in the north. The military man’s career was in the elite division of the Theban state; namely, in the royal navy. He succeeded his father as soldier in the royal flotilla, ultimately becoming a high-ranking captain. Ahmose was able to set up an independent household after he got married; evidently, he was not lacking in wealth. This fact is significant because it mirrors the economic and social status of the marine elite, a point already discussed by Berlev. This elite marine soldier was intimately associated with his lord, the pharaoh Ahmose, when the latter went to war in his chariot. Ahmose also oversaw the construction of his tomb in which the rewards that were given to him by various rulers as well as plots of land are indicated. In sum, Ahmose of Ebana, although living through the switch in dynasties, and thus during the course of Theban expansion, garnered revenue by means of his successful deeds in the royal armies. If the organization of the army at the time of the Middle Kingdom could only succeed in annexing that portion of Nubia which was close to the river Nile and which was also immediately south of Egypt. It could not provide the necessary strength to penetrate further south. There were campaigns against Kush as well as land-based attacks in Asia and sea fighting at the ports in the eastern Mediterranean. Nonetheless, the war corporation of the Middle Kingdom was unable to advance further. It must have been the introduction of the horse and

85   M.H. Wiener and J. Allen, “Separate Lives: the Ahmose Tempest Stela and the Theran Explosion,” JNES 57 (1998), 7.

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chariot coupled with the slow but inexorable adoption of bronze by the Egyptians throughout Dynasty XII and the introduction of advanced military equipment that enabled the Thebans of Dynasty XVII to hold their own again threats from the north and the south and eventually to begin their counterattacks.86 A rough date for the wholesale adoption of chariot-based technology coupled with a developed hierarchy of specialized warriors within Egypt is still problematical. A timeframe within Dynasty XVII seems probable. In the north, the Hyksos had already been acquainted with this newer technology and the use of horses, the latter used, in a military fashion, as the propulsive force for chariots. Yes, as the evidence in the Kamose stelae indicates, the navy remained the major component in the army.87 Under pharaohs Kamose and Ahmose we witness a transitional period during which the chariotry became more and more important. The necessity of a royal flotilla for conquest diminished rapidly once the Hyksos were conquered and the east Delta taken by the Thebans. The newly discovered Ahmose blocks from Abydos still indicate the crucial importance of the royal flotilla, a point that is also reflected in the war record of his immediate predecessor. Then too, after annexing the remaining portions of the east Delta, Ahmose pushed beyond the borders of Egypt into Asia, but first had to attack and subdue the southern kingdom of Sharuhen. That warfare may have been logistically as demanding as a march through the Sinai and up to southern Palestine by means of Gaza. Equally, we must keep in mind that in order to advance by land into Canaan the pharaoh had to develop an effective and reliable road through the Sinai. The New Kingdom’s invasion of Western Asia was always dependent upon the chariot

86   I. Shaw, “Egyptians, Hyksos and Military Technology: Causes, Effects or Catalysts?,” in: The Social Context of Technology, A.J. Shortland, ed. (Oxford, 2000), 59–71 presents a very intriguing study of these factors. For a subsequent discussion, see now the lengthy article of P. Raulwing and J. Clutton-Brock cited in note 20 above. 87   See L. Habachi, The Second Stela of Kamose and his Struggle against the Hyksos Ruler and his Capital (Glückstadt, 1972); H.S. and A. Smith, and ZÄS 103 (1976), 48–76. The volume of E. Oren, ed., The Hyksos: New Historical and Archaeological Perspectives (Philadephia, 1997) and K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period (Copenhagen, 1997), passim but especially pp. 171–4, are significant contributions to Egyptology. I have cited only the key pages in Ryholt’s volume that discuss the military stituation in Dynasty XVII. There is yet another stela of Kamose that is somewhat pertinent in this context although it refers to Nubians: L. Gabolde, “Une triosième stèle de Kamosis?,” Kyphi 4 (2005), 35–42.



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divisions of its army as well as the administrative and logistical control of the sole highway connecting the east Delta to Gaza. (Recently, it has been argued that the center of departure was at Avaris with its dockyard, Perunefer, as the staging point for any advance. Later Gaza would serve that purpose.)88 The military terminology presented in the tomb biography of Ahmose son of Ebana reveals the switch from the Middle Kingdom’s nomenclature—and thus organization—to the New Kingdom one. Except for a few examples, the term “king’s son” for high-ranking military officers disappears. (The key exception is the viceroy of the south, who was eventually called “king’s son of Kush.”) The final rank that Ahmose son of Ebana held was “commander of the rowing team,” a term that is reflective of the New Kingdom period. The word for “crew” or “team,” tjet, was replaced, just as the term “tutor” disappeared, being supplanted by “superior.” Henceforth, the navy, though important, played a supporting role in the Egyptian war machine. First Intermediate Period The Middle Kingdom of Dynasties XII and XIII was not the first era in which a self-standing army existed. We have to delve further into the preceding age of the divided nation, in which two houses, Thebes and Heracleopolis, fought for control of the Nile Valley in the middle of Egypt. Moreover, even their conflict, one that lasted for more than one generation, was preceded by a more complicated, albeit short period, in which two polities attempted to establish unified kingdoms against separatist movements. Whether the latter were single nomes or conglomerates of them (such as in the south of Upper Egypt), or were composed of Delta regions, is not the major issue of this discussion. It was the fall of the Old Kingdom that ushered in an age of increasing military conflict. The first phase, transitional in nature, reveals a series of attempts by various small kingdoms to expand. The second era, in which only two players contested remained—Thebes in the south (Upper Egyptian nomes I–VIII) and Heracleopolis immediately north—lasted more than three quarters of a century. It was in

88   M. Bietak, “The Thutmoside Stronghold Perunefer,” Egyptian Archaeology 26 (2005), 17–20 and “Perunefer: an update,” Egyptian Archaeology 35 (2009), 15–17.

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the latter period that the growth of the military became particularly noticeable. Hitherto Egypt, especially after its original unification, had little need of internal pacification. By and large, armies existed on an ad hoc basis and were used for raids (against Nubia, Libya, or even southern Palestine). There was no major royal flotilla, for example, and the Egyptian state did not attempt any pacification and resultant annexation over territory to the south of Aswan. Granted that the navy played an important role in the army, but it was not equivalent in strength and size as that employed later under the fledgling Theban House of Dynasty XI or even that of Heracleopolis. Economic reasons can be offered for this avoidance of any imperialistic tendencies on the part of the Old Kingdom pharaohs, both internal (costs of maintenance) as well as external influences (lack of threats, a smaller city state population base in Palestine, minor economic interests) can be brought into the equation. Perhaps it is best to turn to the two rival kingdoms during the height of the First Intermediate Period and then to trace their military system backwards in time. Khety I’s tomb at Assiut (No. V) presents the first major inscription in which we can visualize the importance of the southern Middle Egyptian nomarchs and their relations to the court of Heracleopolis as well as their martial activities upstream.89 The tomb owner, whom Egyptologists label a “nomarch,” was quasi-independent and no mere subservient underling of his ruler. One of his biographical passages reveals, in a stark fashion, this independence: “But everything that I have done was before the eyes of everyman (yes really) in front of (all) Assiut. I have lead away the impost of this city, and from it there was no. . . . .” He also emphasizes his building activities and then turns to the agricultural nature of his administration, with various important domestic animals, necessary for cultivation and food, and then reaches warfare. Khety commences that section with common terminology and phraseology reflective of the divided age. One encounters simple yet dynamic phrases such as “strong bow” preceding “powerful in his arm,” thereby immediately alerting the reader to the all-important archers.

89   For the evidence from Assiut I shall follow the edition of W. Schenkel, Memphis. Herakleopolis. Theben: Die epigraphischen Zeugnisse der 7.–11. Dynastie Ägyptens (Wiesbaden, 1965), 69–89.



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Nowhere does the tomb owner mention any troops of Heracleopolis, and he avoids telling us that there was an independent army run by that kingdom (Dynasties IX–X). But his few, often indirect, statements shed light upon the early phase of the Middle Kingdom during which some nomarchs supplied their own troops to the pharaoh. Khety expands his point of view to include special troops that consisted of armed men with shields and spears/javelins. In addition, ten choice archers also carried arrows and bows. In other words, a specialized division of soldiers was already in existence at this time. According to Wolfgang Schenkel, the first named group were elite personal troops (“Nahkampftruppen”), and this reasonable supposition can explain the secondary positions of the bowmen.90 Then we reach an important passage wherein a divisions of soldiers comprising one thousand men is mentioned. This point which was later expanded by Berlev who argued that the standard Middle Kingdom division consisted of 1,000 warriors.91 Khety continues by enumerating his flotilla which he provided his lord when the Heracleopolitan ruler went to war. Finally, a crucial passage ends this important inscription in which we learn that the nomarch, when he was young, was brought up with the children of the pharaoh. Evidently, Khety learned at least some of his martial traits at the Heracleopolitan court. Iti-ibi in his tomb (No. III at Assiut), dated immediately after the preceding man also discusses his warriors.92 “The fear before my troops is his protection,” he remarks, and we must assume that this attitude refers to his own nome. But the historical passages that follow shed useful more light upon the internecine warfare between Heracleopolis (and Assiut in particular) and the Thebans in the south. For example, we read the beginning of the conflict between his (literally: “my”) troops and the southern nomes. (I.e., it is Iti-ibi who matters, not the king of Heracleopolis.) Conflict on the Nile is recorded in some detail with Egyptian troops travelling by ships to key localities, disembarking, and then fighting on land as infantrymen. Hence, this warfare was identical to that known from the Middle Kingdom and the administrative hierarchy presumably similar.

 W. Schenkel, Memphis. Herakleopolis. Theben, p. 73 note l.   O. Berlev, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 10. 92  W. Schenkel, Memphis. Herakleopolis. Theben, pp. 75–81 and pp. 79–80 in particular. 90 91

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The inscription concludes by noting that “The land stands under the fear owing to my (?) troops. There is no foreign country (= enemy) any more that is free from the fear of it” (Heracleopolis). The emphasis remains upon the local commander and nomarch. The secondary position of the kingdom of Heracleopolis can also be seen in the Assiut tomb of Khety II (tomb No. IV), the son of the preceding.93 (It was at this time that pharaoh Merikare lived and ruled; see below.) Severe difficulties appear to have occurred during this time. More references to the royal flotilla may be found in this account, and it is extremely suggestive of local particularism and chauvinism that is a reference to rejoicing over the Heracleopolitan king. This may be seen centuries later in the conclusion of the second victory stela of Kamose’s when the ruler rolls into Thebes. One can place the literary account of the Instruction to King Meri­ kare into this temporal setting even though the exact date of the original composition remains an ever-present thorn in the side of Egyptological scholars.94 Whatever its original date—some have argued for early Dynasty XII whereas others place it to Dynasty XVIII—the personages, attitudes, specific geographical details reflect the warfare of the First Intermediate Period and not that of a later age. Perhaps it is based upon old laudatory accounts of local potentates and warlords combined with historical reflections on Dynasty X and its wars with the southern Thebans. Nonetheless, the military aspects of this composition cannot be dated to an era in which the nationalistic fervor that characterized the rise of the unified Theban state of the New Kingdom occurred. Its clear-cut and persistent emphasis upon the expansion of the northern kingdom of the Heracleopolitans deserves careful analysis. The motif of raising “youths” and “recruits” combined with the specific reference to “troops” is quite different from the Middle Kingdom’s conception of the “anchu” and that of the early New Kingdom’s chariot warriors. Indeed, the absence of this later elite division of the army makes perfect sense if we regard the historical subsection of the  W. Schenkel, Memphis. Herakleopolis. Theben, pp. 86–9.   The detailed study of J.F. Quack can be cited as it is an up-to-date work concerned with the entire text: Studien zur Lehre für Merikare (Wiesbaden, 1992). I am purposely avoiding the scholarly disputes concerning its date of redaction. The English translation of M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature I (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London; 1975), 97–109 still holds its preeminent place. See A. Demidchik, “The Reign of Merikare Khety,” GM 192 (2003), 25–36 for a scintillating analysis of the king and his dynasty. 93 94



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instruction as indicating a temps passé. Significantly, there is a sharp division made between the civilian cadres of officials and the soldiers with another aside concerning the borders of Egypt. No expansionistic attitudes common to Ahmose and his successors or even those of the Dynasty XII pharaohs against Nubia are mentioned. In fact, the enemy is not a foreign country or countries but rather “southerners,” the Thebans, and the reference to “frontier patrols” may indicate military surveillance within Egypt and not in Nubia. If “troops will fight troops,” as the Merikare text states, once more the absence of foreign opponents can be noted. If the “Southland” is said to bring produce and impost to the Heracleopolitans, does this passage not signify a situation of some type of peace between the northern kingdom and the southern one? When it is said—“The east abounds in bowmen”—we quickly ascertain that the northeast Delta had many archers and was prolific in armed resistance, a situation that parallels the difficulties that Dynasty XII and early XIII had with the eastern Delta and southern Palestine. The historical subsection of the account reflects the anarchistic situation of a formerly united Egypt in terms. One important passage concerns the age-old conception of the “Bowmen,” Asiatic warriors who can never be defeated. Here, the topos of the uncivilized warrior, one who lacks discipline and the “civilizing” traits of the “modern” warfare, is written in unflattering terms. If the Asiatic is likened to a crocodile that sits quietly on its shore but then suddenly dashes forward, the despised foreigner still remains unable to fight with military support against settlements. These enemies are not urban dwellers as the Egyptians were. One feels that this literary description serves best the peripheral semi-nomadic Asiatic who operated close to the northeast borders of Egypt rather than the settled population of Early Bronze Age Palestine. Specific historical events are indirectly recounted in the Instruction to Merikare. I can refer to the pacification of the Delta by the Heracleopolitans, a possible attack on fortresses in Palestine (this is disputed), as well as the effective control of the XXIIth Upper Egyptian nome. One short phrase is very telling: “If your southern border is attacked, The Bowmen will put on the girdle.” Here, the writer is not referring to Nubia but to the southern boundary of Dynasty X. Once more, the reference to the elite archer segments of the king’s army is paramount. All in all, the instruction eschews attributing positive attitudes to the foreign bowmen, especially to the Asiatic male warriors, as it does against the southerners. It does not reflect an era of

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expansionism, nascent or active. Despite the poor preservations of the exemplars, all of which date from imperial times, this composition indicates a time in the past when the Egyptian archer was the preferred military role for young and old. Although the Instruction to Merikare skips over the role of the royal fleet, it nonetheless outlines the expansionistic attitudes of the Heracleopolitan state. Significantly, the danger of Asiatics in the northeast is mentioned, a theme that can also be found in the early XIIth Dynasty literary composition called the Prophecy of Neferty. Yet it would be wide of the mark to claim that hidden in these topoi are the Hyksos. They, as we have mentioned earlier, appear in the texts from Egypt as far different opponents. Let us now turn to some inscription from the Theban kingdom of Dynasty XI. Here, a survey can be made of the military aspects as seen from the other side, that of the Thebans. Inyotef II, the Horus Wahankh, reflects upon warfare with the Heracleopolitans and provides some details. The probable ancient term “mooring-stake,” used to establish a border, occurs in a passage that describes the successful campaign of this pharaoh. The naval orientation of this term cannot be overlooked. Fortresses or garrisons are mentioned, originally held by the northerners in the Thinite Nome (No. VIII in Upper Egypt) and a new Theban fortress is mentioned. Inyotef II’s inscription places us within the heart of the First Intermediate Period when the two rival kingdoms of Heracleopolis and Thebes were still fighting for supremacy. It is interesting that the composition of Merikare, reflecting the north, places a keen interest upon the residence of Khety II. This word is used more than once in this literary account as is the concept of the ruler’s “city.” Even the opening generalized precepts of political wisdom seem to reflect an intense concentration upon the center of power: “If you find someone mastering the city,” states the composition, “. . . fell him in front of the entourage.” This must indicate that the kernel of the archaic Egyptian state, even during the period of civil war, was considered to be more than a symbol of power and dominion. Khety’s domain is ideologically viewed as his personal property: “May you say what is right in your house, that the officials who are on earth fear you.” There is little doubt that the concept of kingship and the Heracleopolitan state, intertwined as expected, are often of paramount importance. Khety, who is called “a lord in the city”—the latter word has to indicate Heracleopolis, indicated the capital as the center of all. In similar fashion, so does the following brief remark, “My city, well-founded, is not destroyed.” All



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in all, this composition, albeit somewhat discursive, presses a nationalistic point of view, one centered upon the need to be ever vigilant against the enemy. From the southern kingdom a similar attitude was maintained. This is best seen in the Ballas inscription of Montuhotep II, recent elucidated in two separate analyses.95 The fragmentary text provides welcome support for the nascent concept of state and nationalism that appears to have expanded during this troubled era of internecine warfare. The historical account is especially interesting, if not provocative to Egyptologists, as it presents a royal speech of pharaoh to his troops. The Ballas inscription, although not complete, provides the earliest case of a “royal novel” in which striking nationalistic feelings combined with successful warfare occur, all set within a report-like account of the king’s successful military deeds. Montuhotep recounts to his troops his successes against Nubians as well as the peoples of the western oases. The inscription account provides a parallel to the famous Kamose Stelae of late Dynasty XVII. In both, a keen feeling of chauvinism penetrates the texts to such a degree that is segues with the concept of kingship at this time. Montuhotep places emphasis upon the decapitation of “desert dwellers” and narrates warfare in Wawat or Lower Nubia as well as in the western desert. If there are some difficulties in explaining what the king’s “navigation for Thebes” strictly means, the text nonetheless considers the capital of Dynasty XI to be the center of the domain. All is dependent upon Thebes, and both the eastern and western deserts, with Lower Nubia and the Nile are now subservient to him. The dialogue between the king and his army officials, well known from the “Annals” of Thutmose III (Megiddo campaign) allowed the writer to emphasize his ruler’s personality. If the aspect of the inscription remains patriotic, albeit in a narrow sense compared to our expectations, it nevertheless allows for a greater fluidity in the depiction of Montuhotep’s personality. The strong martial orientation reflects the age as does its references to fortresses, the royal troops, their loyalty   J. Darnell, “The Eleventh Dynasty Royal Inscription from Deir el-Ballas,” RdE 59 (2008), 81–110; and A. Spalinger, “Chauvinism in the First Intermediate Period,” in: Chronology and Archaeology in Ancient Egypt (The Third Millennium B.C.), H. Vymazalová and M. Bárta, eds. (Prague, 2008), 240–60. Add A. Demidchik, “The ‘Region of the Northern Residence’ in Middle Egyptian Literature,” in: Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists, Ch. J. Eyre, ed. (Leuven, 1998), 325–30. 95

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under duress, and the ultimate success of the king. Just as the Kamose Stelae provide a strong nationalistic fervor, so does this one. The comparison between both official war reports cannot be left unremarked. Indeed, historically speaking, we witness two ages, separated by many centuries, but nevertheless similar in their chauvinistic fervor. Both Montuhotep and Kamose provide evidence for centralization at the royal capital, and Thebes is the city to which all depend and to which the king, after his successful wars, always returns. This kernel of governmental administration and military power is a hallmark of both pharaohs’ war accounts. Of equal significance is the importance of the army. The pharaoh, depicted as the war leader par excellence, expands the might of his personal domain, his “house.” But the concept of state is not a mere abstraction dependent upon symbols of nationalism alone. It is incorrect to view the rise of Dynasty XVII as the first clear-cut example of Egyptian nationalism in which the figure of the monarch looms powerfully against foes of the state. At the same time it is the city, Thebes, which comes into play as the personified figure of the royal domain. Not surprisingly in is within the First Intermediate Period that we come across the concept of “Victorious Thebes.”96 This “deification” was more than an abstract concept. It allowed the local populace— that of the City—to take pride and vicarious interest in her success. If was not only foreign Hyksos, anathematized by an effective and longlasting policy of resistance propaganda, who effected such a transformation of Egyptian society. Indeed, we have already observed that two Second Intermediate Period Theban rules present similar images of martial flavor with a concentration upon their native capital. In these case it also seems to be the case that foreigners, non-Egyptians, were the enemies, but in Montuhotep’s account the land of Heracleopolis, separate from Nubians or desert dwellers, was also an enemy. In essence, an emphatic use of patriotism was propagated by a small kingdom fighting on its boundaries. This nationalistic feeling, prevalent as well in the Abisko Graffiti, provides us with the cheering welcome given to a returning warrior.97 96   A. Spalinger, “Chauvinism in the First Intermedite Period,” pp. 248–55, referring to the important study of D. Franke, “Erste und Zweite Zwischenzeit—ein Vergleich,” ZÄS 117 (1990), 119–29. 97   In particular see J. Darnell, “The Rock Inscriptions of Tjehemau at Abisko,” ZÄS 2003), 31–48 and “The Route of the Eleventh Dyansty Expansion into Nubia:



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Once more, the narrative of Kamose has historical antecedents. Of course, after many years such intense nationalism would be attenuated. On the other hand, in the case of the New Kingdom the wars of liberation were followed by a massive expansionary policy geared at first to recovering Lower Nubia but later pressed into action for more extreme imperialistic desires. Therefore, the patriotism of the Egyptian state continued in force well after the unification of the country. It is true that Montuhotep II, subsequent to his official account at Ballas, effectively reunited Egypt and began the subjugation of Wawat. Moreover, expansion to the south of Lower Nubia was attempted. Its lack of success did not mean that the Egyptian kingdom stopped employing its propagandistic means of securing loyalty to its ruler and his domain, but by the latter years of Dynasty XII, this attitude ceased to be significant. The city god of Thebes and its ruler had become important during the XIth Dynasty. In the north, we have seen the same attitude permeating the royal account of the Instruction to Merikare as well as in the nomarchal tomb inscriptions at Assiut. The key issue was always how to unify a kingdom. Today, outside of such blatant images as flags, national anthems, catechisms of ideological loyalty and the like, there are common methods of unification, especially when a nation is beset by hostile activities, real or supposed, or foreigners. Other contemporary examples of nationalism and chauvinism include sports, especially global competitions, as well as the use of literature and the arts. Yet in these early times when subsistence states existed, feelings of chauvinism, or if non-derogatory terms are preferred, patriotism and loyalty, truly existed. Inscriptions such as Montuhotep II’s thus provide the historian with an ideological repertoire that only could have existed when the primitive Egyptian state was under duress. Most certainly, despite the military aspects of the Old Kingdom, this could have only occurred during the nascent phase of the unification of Egypt around Dynasties O and I. When that kingdom effectively controlled its land from the Mediterranean to Aswan, and from the eastern Delta to the western tract, the need for warfare decreased. (See section IV of this discussion.) I prefer not to emphasize the desire for expansion as much as

An Interpretation Based on the Rock Inscriptions of Tjehemau at Abisko,” ZÄS 131 (2004), 23–37.

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the means of control and the limits of power. True, the textual record of Dynasties II–VI indicates some military actions. Nubian mercenaries, as well as Libyan, composed portion of the ad hoc Egyptian army.98 There are also references that indicate a “royal army.” But it is fair to conclude that the military played a minor role in the society of that era. Later, when the Old Kingdom collapsed, such was not the case. It is hard to recount the struggles that occurred within Egypt at the end of Dynasty VIII, a major caesura in the history of pharaonic Egypt. In the upper regions of the Nile temporary warlords arose, the most famous one being Anchtify of Moalla.99 His career predates the consolidation of Theban power in Upper Egypt. Additional, private inscriptions, even if they are small, reflect upon this period of intense struggle. But it is Anchtify’s tomb that reveals, to modern Egyptologists, a sudden alteration in ideology, one in which the army came to play an important role in society, hitherto submerged under the relatively peaceful domination of four if not six previous dynasties. His titles strikingly indicate that difference between his lifetime and that of the Old Kingdom. Anchtify was an “overseer of a host” or general, chief of interpreters, and overseer of foreign lands. He describes himself as a hero without equal, and one who ran the region of Upper Egyptian nomes I to III. This overt stress is upon power within his domain. As befits an independent ruler he remarks upon his solitary position as the “beginning of men” as well as “the end of men.” Anchtify thereby pronounces himself to be the single man who was able to administer his region, and the phraseology frequently reiterates this aspect. He points out more than once the position of his own troops. Not surprisingly, once more garrisons or fortresses are referred to in this narration. In the biographic inscriptions of Anchtify one encounters a “chief of the host” from Armant in the context of warfare. Naturally, fleets provided the means of transportation for his

98   M. Bietak, “Zu den Nubischen Bogenschützen aus Assiut: Ein Beitrage zur Geschichte der Ersten Zwischenzeit,” in: Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar I, P. PosenerKriéger, ed. (Cairo, 1985), 87–97. Add S. Seidlmayer, “Nubier im ägyptischen Kontext im Alten und Mittleren Reich, in: Akkulturation und Selbstbehauptung, S. Leder and B. Streck, eds. (Halle and Saal, 2002), 89–113. 99   The editio princeps is that of J. Vandier, Mo‘alla: La tombe d’Anhktifi et la tombe de Sébkhotep (Cairo, 1950). The translation of W. Schenkel in Memphis-Herakleopoli-.Theben, pp. 45–57 is recommended. See now L. Morenz, “Ein Text zwischen Ritual(ität) und Mythos: Die Inszenierung des Anchtifi von Hefat als Super-Helden,” in: Text und Ritual, B. Dücker and H. Roeder, eds. (Heidelberg, 2005), 123–47.



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soldiers, who are called “youths.” In fact, this elite division of “strong warriors” is referred to more than once in Anchtify’s inscriptions. Again, Berlev’s remarks concerning the Middle Kingdom young elite men fits as well into this earlier time. This early war leader notes that he was the only “overseer of a host” who had achieved so much success. Anchtify was the “superior mouth” of the youths, or “chief of troops,” as an additional difficult title is often rendered. He foregrounds his personal martial abilities, aspects that were perhaps tempered by his reliance upon his strong elite division mentioned near the end of the narrative. As with Montuhotep II in his Ballas Inscription, Anchtify provides a survey of the warlike situation in Upper Egypt, but at an earlier time when extreme separatism and repeated conflicts were endemic. Both men praise their own army and describe their own martial efficacy. Both indicate a strong feeling of personal nationalism, an adherence to their dominions and the necessity of protecting it. In Montuhotep’s account, and here one can add the evidence from the Abisko graffiti, there is a parallel concept of a self-contained entity, the capital. Berlev designated this as a “center” by noting the personal nature of the word.100 In addition, we read of “people” associated with the kingdom, they being residents of the capital. With the rise of the concept of “Victorious Thebes” under Inyotef II, however, the Theban kingdom surpassed the small polity of Anchtify, not merely in size and power but also in nationalistic fervor. Thus one finds chauvinistic activities emerging already in the early First Intermediate Period. Even if the inscriptional evidence from the northern Heracleopolitan kingdom is more limited than from the south, this patriotic attitude, coupled with a militaristic one, appears to have been commonplace in this era of division. After the fall of the Old Kingdom it was necessary for any region, such as Anchtify’s, to rise in importance and to contest territory with potential rivals. The key to our understanding of the Middle Kingdom army must be sought in this more remote age. Yet the inscriptional material of Montuhotep II and the Inyotefs of Dynasty XI does not provide many specific details concerning the administration and organization of their armies; the same may be said with regard to the few scraps of additional data that can be gleaned from private inscriptions. Nonetheless,   A. Spalinger, “Chauvinism in the First Intermediate Period.”

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such information allows one to postulate an arrangement similar to the later Middle Kingdom war machine. As previously noted, there is an emphasis upon the youths. The “overseer of a host” was a general of war, but the local rulers appear to be the only men who held that position during the First Intermediate period. Warfare was conducted by the same means and with the same orientation as took place under the reunified kingdom. It seems probable that the Thebans rather than the Heracleopolitans provided the impetus for Middle Kingdom. By Dynasty XI the following constituents of the army were fixed: navy, elite archers, and youths. Yet the connection of the Assiut nomarchs to the Heracleopolitan royal court is a useful fact to keep in mind, when reflecting upon military training in the Middle Kingdom. Unfortunately, the role of the vizier remains totally invisible during the earlier period, and thus we cannot reconstruct the organization of any of the armies. Perhaps we can approach the arrangements within the armies of Upper Egypt from a different vantage point, that of the Nubian mercenaries.101 True, Nubian soldiers were already known in the Old Kingdom as the Dashur Decree of king Pepi I indicates. This earlier royal edict notes that Nubians were already integrated within Egyptian society as warriors, and moreover that they were associated with the pyramid cities. We shall return to these men later in the final historical survey of the Old Kingdom. For the moment it is sufficient to observe that within the third millennium B.C. hardy, virile warriors from the south were employed within Egypt. (Others Nubians were located in the royal residence as service personnel.) Yet, as Manfred Bietak pointed out in connection to the Nubians in Egypt during the Old Kingdom, their ethnic-cultural identity and differentiation from the natives persisted despite their new social roles with Egypt.102

101   See the important studies of M. Bietak and S. Seidlmayer cited in note 98 above. I am relying extensively upon Bietak’s chapter. 102   M. Bietak, “The C-Group and the Pan-Grave Culture in Nuybia,” in: Nubian Culture: Past and Present, Tomas Hägg, ed. (Stockholm, 1987), 113–28 provides a worthwhile survey of the archaeological and textual data relating to this situation. His earlier archaeological studies are: Ausgrabungen in Sayala-Nubien 1961–1965: Denkmäler der C-Gruppe und der Pan-Gräber-Kultur (Vienna, 1966) and Studien zur Chronologie der Nubischen C-Gruppe (Vienna, 1968).



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During the First Intermediate Period the major zone of Nubian importance in Upper Egypt was at Gebelein.103 It seems probable that into the southern portions of Upper Egypt “mobile” Nubian groups came and went through the western desert’s oases routes. This analysis is supported by the research of John Darnell who has been deeply concerned with the caravan routes in this region, especially with regard to Aswan, Thebes, and sites immediately to the north and south of that major city.104 There are a considerable number of stelae that were erected at Gebelein during the first half of the period of internecine warfare when Egypt was divided into rival kingdoms and small states. Some of the men depicted on those funerary monuments were “overseers of recruits,” and once more we meet terminology that Berlev analyzed for the Middle Kingdom. Youth, virility, and the control of men are paramount attributes in private inscriptions of this period. As Henry Fischer remarked, such terms as “youth,” “recruit,” and “small one” often appear in pre-unification First Intermediate Period contexts which refer to soldiers.105 One recently edited stela from Dendera, dated prior to the unification of Egypt, not surprisingly uses the common word for young men, “recruits,” said by an Egyptian commander of those men.106 Phraseology extolling the “swiftness” of these youths likewise occurs, and these words can be connected with other contemporary texts emphasizing military prowess. Indeed, Fischer aptly refers to one naval-related passage: “I was the bravest of the brave, the fleetest of the fleet,” a passage that cannot but remind us of the marine organization of later times. There appears to have been two sectors, “divisions” may be the better military term, which were recognized in the First Intermediate Period and later. The wooden figurines of soldiers found at Assiut and dated to the late Dynasty XI are divided into two corps: Nubians and 103   The classical study is that of H. Fischer, “The Nubian Mercenaries of Gebelein during the First Intermediate Period,” Kush 9 (1961), 44–80. Add his “Les chanteurs militaries à Gebelein et Hatnoub?,” RdÉ 28 (1976), 153–4. 104   These are cited in note 97 above, to which we can add “The Message of King Wahankf Antef II to Khety, Ruler of Heracleopolis,” ZÄS 124 (1997), 101–08. 105   “The Nubian Mercenaries of Gebelein,” 48–9 note (c); page 52 for next reference. 106  D.P. Silverman, “A Reference to Warfare at Dendereh, Prior to the Unification of Egypt in the Eleventh Dynasty,” in Egypt and Beyond: Essays Presented to Leonard H. Lesko upon his Retirement from the Wilbour Chair of Egyptology at Brown University June 200, S.E. Thompson and P. Der Manuelian, eds. (Providence, 2008), 319–31.

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Egyptians.107 According to Fischer, two near contemporary Theban generals most probably commanded the two sectors of the Egyptian army.108 Nubians can be distinguished from the Egyptians by means of the outlandish hair feathers, although not every representation is so exact in depicting the two types of peoples. Nonetheless, one case of Aswan Nubians presents a firm demarcation between the two ethnic groups. Stelae from Gebelein also differentiate the Nubians by their bushy hair, a sash and a pendant piece, the latter two items of clothing possibly worn only by soldiers. Many of these small inscriptions depict dogs with collars. Therefore, we may hypothesize that these Nubians were involved in patrols. The size of the animals is generally remarkable large, leading one to feel that the Nubian owners greatly prized them, and to an extent not known by ordinary Egyptians. It cannot be left unsaid that Nubians who functioned as hunters and herdsmen would have needed dogs as well as a plentiful supply of arrows for their bows. In other words, those men would have been ideally suited to act as warriors. The apparel of these Nubians fits within the data of the First Intermediate period. Their costumes differ from those worn by Nubians of the 6th dynasty. Some of these men, not only those living in the Gebelein region, were archers, the elite sector of any army in the Nile Valley and the Delta at this time. In other First Intermediate Period tombs, such as Iti-ibi-iqer at Assiut (temp. late in Dynasty X) depict men with protective armbands (for bows), and it is once more that archers who are mainly shown.109 It is significant that one archer is definitely Nubian. The fragmentary military scenes from this tomb also reveal a platoon structure in which a bearded Egyptian commander, with fillet and streamer as well as a broad collar (the key identifying item), was painted larger than his underlings, one of whom may have been a Nubian. A further representation of a Nubian mercenary in Egypt, painted in a tomb at Aswan, is depicted at death with an arrow in his side as well as a spear passing through his legs. It is not hard to reconstruct the type of armed battle in which he received his fatal wound.

  Classically, see M. Bietak, “Zu den nubischen Bogenschützen aus Assiut.”   H. Fischer, Kush 9 (1961), 53. 109   M. El-Khadragy, “Some Significant Features in the Decoration of the Chapel of Iti-ibi-iqer at Assiut,” SAK 36 (2007), 105–35. Note the dogs (122, fig. 2). Add “The Northern Soldiers-Tomb at Assiut,” SAK 35 (2006), 147–64. 107 108



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Fischer also discussed the presence of many black-skinned Nubian bowmen who occur, from time to time, in tomb depictions. For example, in Anchtify’s tomb the herdsmen wear costumes much the same as those of the Aswan Nubians. If their apparel can be traced back to simple garments that “can be seen occasionally” in “Old Kingdom representations of field workers,” does this imply that the Nubians of a later date, after the fall of the Old Kingdom, had copied this dress from ancestors who lived in Egypt? Or were the costumes typical of soldiers?110 The wooden figurines of Nubian soldiers at Assiut are archers. The two groups of soldiers comprise those Nubians, perhaps elite troops, and Egyptian spearmen. As hypothesized earlier, because of their hunting activities these Nubians were particularly suited for reconnaissance and other military activities in the armies of Upper Egypt. The apparel worn by these foreigners, now working within Egypt, is distinct, and thus helps us to determine their ethnic identity. The Nubian sash and pendant survived to the New Kingdom as distinct indicators of a Nubian origin and warlike activity. However, note that in the Middle Kingdom, the native Egyptian soldiers either adopted (or adapted) the particular apparel of the southern warriors, just as any group tends to absorb foreign traits once there is a necessity for doing so. Was it the superior fighting aspects of Nubian soldiers that lead to this cultural change? In his study on the Gebelein mercenaries Fischer concluded by reviewing the aspects of this “colony.” As we have remarked, these Nubians were not the first examples of these peoples who were employed in military service within Egypt. Nevertheless, they represent an important factor in the affairs of Upper Egypt after the fall of the Old Kingdom, and their identity was not submerged into the Egyptian “lake.” Assimilated to some degree, it was their profession that allowed them to be significant in this locale. Nubian mercenaries, now residing permanently in Upper Egypt, formed one important sector in the army of the local potentates and, undoubtedly, in the armies of the Thebans of Dynasty XI if not to the north. The geographical propinquity of Nubia to southern Egypt and the connections through the routes of the western Libyan Desert no doubt played a major role in their presence. But they had been trained in hunting, and their dogs   H. Fischer, Kush 9 (1961), 62–75, especially p. 66.

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as well as bows and arrows were of particular use to any Egyptian warlord.111 In addition, their non-agricultural way of life enabled them to be employed in any army. Fischer stressed their pride in having themselves shown as they actually looked. But, after all, they were welltrained soldiers, men who could sell their services at Aswan, Gebelein, and later even northwards in Assiut. These Nubian warriors are not present on any extant funerary monument at Thebes or Coptos. Evidently, despite their presence in Anchtify’s tomb and at Aswan, by the time Dynasty XI was established, Nubian mercenaries or “conscript soldiers” seemed to have played no apparent role within the armies of the Inyotefs. Fischer argued that either their artistic representations (and presumably their foreign names) were now indistinguishable from the local Egyptians, or that they possessed, as he argued, “no stela of their own.”112 Either hypothesis seems impossible to verify at present. Yet direct evidence for Nubian involvement in the wars of Dynasty XI is known from the Abisko Graffiti as well as a few additional sources. The wooden Assiut models which Fischer discussed seem to have confused a few scholars who have juxtaposed those mercenaries, operating for native Egyptians, against the population of their homeland. That is to say, the former appear in a considerable different ideological light than the latter. This is an inexorable problem unless we separate professional attitudes, desires for success and wealth if not temporal importance, from our present attitudes concerning nationality. There was no nation at this time, be it Nubian or Egyptian. To describe the contemporary third millennium B.C. Egyptian kingdoms as “states” may blur the issue owing to the vocabularies of nation and state that are used by us today. Once considerations of career and ability are raised, on the other hand, a better clarification of the apparent duality is achieved. To argue that the Nubians, or Egyptians, or any primitive archaic subsistence-based agricultural society had a nationalistic feeling close to ourselves is to apply, in an anachronistic fashion, present day attitudes upon these ancients. Granted that in the First Intermediate Period the necessity of eulogizing the homeland and deprecating the enemy was common. This has already been discussed earlier.

111   See J.K. Hoffmeier, “Hunting Desert Game with the Bow: A Brief Examination,” Newsletter of the SSEA 6.2 (December 1975), 8–13. 112   H. Fischer, Kush 9 (1961), 78–9.



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But we also have to be wary of over interpreting traditional Egyptian topoi relating to foreigners, the aliens, the Other. The Gebelein stelae, for example, must be approached as important historical sources separate from the traditional Egyptian attributes of “vile Nubians,” and the like. Even the term “acculturation,” apparently a more sophisticated a term, is to belabor the point. These foreign mercenaries, as the later Sherden of the Ramesside Period, provided an important function to the Egyptians: armed might. We have repeatedly indicated their appearance as archers. This pictorial aspect of the Gebelein warriors differs from their later threedimensional models discovered at Assiut. As Bietak had shown, the equivalent Egyptian models are infantrymen carrying large cowhide shields and spears. Lacking, he stressed, were close-up weapons such as the maces and daggers.113 (The latter point was, however, previously mentioned by Fischer in his study of the Gebelein soldiers.) Concentrating solely upon the hieroglyphic sign for “soldier”/“army,” Fischer pointed out that the sign “virtually always wears a feather” on those First Intermediate Period stelae, independent of whether the man was an Egyptian or a Nubian.114 Yet in the hieroglyphic writings for “army” in the famous Dynasty VI biography of Weni, one can view a feathered bowman sign followed by Egyptians, filleted but not necessarily armed. One of the examples is significant because the man determinative carries a mace. On the other hand, the distinguishing characteristics of weaponry, apparel, and ability of the Nubians are striking at Assiut. For example, the models of Egyptian men, in contrast to the Nubians, show an effectively drilled platoon ready for combat. Further analysis of the various hieroglyphic signs for “soldier” and “army” indicate a radical temporal difference in representation. In the Old Kingdom (including Dynasty VIII) the archer holds his arrows in the right hand that draws the bow) and carries them points downwards. (They are feathered, an old practice that predates the unification of Egypt.) In contrast, Middle Kingdom palaeography shows the archer grasping his arrows in the center with the points directed upward. (The earlier case of the latter may be found in an XIth Dynasty example from Deir el Bahri.)115 In addition, the manner of holding the   M. Bietak, “Zu den nubischen Bogenschützen aus Assiut.”   H. Fischer, “The Archer as Represented in the First Intermediate Period,” JNES 21 (1962), 50–2. Cf. his remarks in Kush 9 (1961) 532 note 14. 115   H. Fischer, JNES 21 (1962), 50. 113 114

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arrows seems important because the archer does not pull his bowstring totally back to the position where the hand holds the arrows. Some additional remarks may be helpful in elucidating the significance of Fischer’s discovery. First, to protect the arrow points it is best to hold the shaft with them downward. (One carries spears or javelins with the sharp end upward owing to weight and length considerations.) Indeed, as a famous Dynasty XII Beni Hasan scene shows, Egyptian soldiers protected their arrowheads by placing them onto the ground. In this case careful aim was insured by the squat posture of the archers. If the points are placed in an upward direction does this indicate that the arrowheads were of a greater mass than previously? Yet the Middle Kingdom examples of this practice come from an age during which bronze (copper plus tin) was not yet used in Egypt. This method was shown by Fischer to reflect older prototypes. Transitional forms in the writing, perhaps due to conservatism, were current in the First Intermediate Period. It would appear that the representations at Naga ed-Deir and Aswan are not related to the iconographical development of the 12th dynasty. The pregnant question is why did this change occur? Was it due, for example, to the Nubian mercenaries that became common in Upper Egypt the First Intermediate Period? Or do we witness the switch at a time when the Pan Grave, whose graves located at the east of the Nile, or Medjay people (also from the east and probably the same group as the former) became the elite archers sector of the army? If so, a logical conclusion would be that the Nubian archers influenced the later Egyptian method of holding the bow and arrows in the right hand. But even if this speculation is accepted, it remains problematical if the result was more effective. Was the length of the arrow the important factor? Increased length logically would determine the placement of the arrowheads in a downward position. Unfortunately, this analysis needs further details specifically related to physical aspects of shooting arrows such as parallax and the type of bows used. (The longer the bow the longer the bowstring, and thus the longer the arrow.) One excellently preserved relief from Lisht, dated to the Old Kingdom, provides a scene in which four archers are preparing to shoot. The arrows face downward, as Fischer has emphasized, and the notched end, fletched, is located just above the shooting arm—the right side in this case—and the index and third fingers are used (see below). Fischer also observed that in the Middle Kingdom the archer grasps the arrows at their center whereas it is clear, at least from one excellent



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XIth Dynasty showing the downward direction of the tips, the man holds his arrows closer to the rear or notch. When marching, however, it is logical that these soldiers should hold their arrows in the right hand and these are tilted upward with the heads in front. Meseti’s wooden model specifically reflects this ancient practice. Hence, stelae depicting soldiers should reveal a closely identical pattern, but perhaps owing to its more peaceful nature, an ideal one, it might be the case that the heads face to the rear. As a final point it has to be remarked that no quivers are known to be in use until later, and such is the case here. At home and in guard service, we may see runners carrying bow cases.116 One Dynasty V scene provides a unique depiction of running troops with sticks and bows in cases (logically only two bows).117 Not surprisingly, the brief accompanying inscription refers to youths or recruits, obviously young soldiers. Hans Goedicke surmised, independently of Berlev, that these were professional troops who acted in campaigns as well as in police work.118 The additional reference to the palace indicates duties at home. In sum, one can now see how palaeographical data can form the basis of technological and social analyses, although in this case further research is needed. It is now necessary to make a digression with respect to the use of bows and arrows and in particular the methods of arrow release.119 Here we may follow in the footsteps of Edward Morse, whose study on the subject is a classic.120 It is fortunate that Morse immediately recognized the nature of Egyptian pictorial representations and their attempt to provide realism instead of verisimilitude. In the tombs at Beni Hasan the typical Mediterranean arrow release is evident. In that method of shooting, familiar to modern archers, the thumb is not employed. The string is drawn with the tips of the first, second, and third fingers and the arrow rests between the index and the middle fingers. Today, a protective glove or fingertip wrapping is often worn, 116   Useful pictorial data may be found in H. Goedicke, Re-Used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht (Bradford and London, 1971), 66–77. 117   H. Goedicke, Re-Used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht, pp. 66–77; note the squads (platoons ??) of ten men. 118   H. Goedicke, Re-Used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht, p. 71. 119   For the bow-string, see J. Hoffmeier, “The Hieroglyph and the Egyptian BowString,” Newsletter of the SSEA 6.3 (May 1975), 6–11. 120   E.S. Morse, “Ancient and Modern Methods of Arrow-Release,” Bulletin of the Essex Institute 17 (1885), 145–98. Add S.T. Pope, “A Study of Bows and Arrows,” University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 13 (1923), 329–414.

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although no Egyptian relief dated to this period indicates such a means of protection. But, as Morse showed, by the early Ramesside period the arrow may be drawn above and behind the ear.121 Yet the primary release shown on Ramesses II’s monuments indicates the use of a bent forefinger and straightened thumb. Various distinct methods of arrow release were claimed: the Mediterranean (apparently the oldest known to us from pharaonic Egypt, and occurring in an era in which the compound bow had not yet entered the repertoire of armaments), the tertiary (the strongest of the ones discussed here), and the old primary method in which the end of the arrow is grasped with the end of the straightened thumb and the first or second joints of the bent forefinger are employed. The last draw and release method is the simplest one and employed usually with simple light bows. An excellent Ramesses II example of this form may be seen on the north wall at Abu Simbel. By means of the Mediterranean system the arrow is drawn towards the ear and the archers can use either then right or left hand. (In the latter case, however, the pictorial data can be interpreted otherwise.) None of the First Intermediate Period examples assembled by Fischer provide a parallel, although a scene in the chapel of Iti-ibi-iqer at Assiut might provide an example.122 One XIth Dynasty Deir el Bahri fragment depicts an Egyptian archer using either the primary or tertiary method of release.123 By the time of the fully developed Middle Kingdom but also earlier, certainly during the reign of Montuhotep II, the Egyptian archers used a double-convex bow made usually of acacia wood.124 This tree was the one regularly used in making bows and arrows. Yet two additional woods were used during the First Intermediate Period. One sidderwood bow as well as a tamarisk one were found at Naga ed-Deir. It is significant that the former tree was common in the oases of the

121   E. Morse, Bulletin of the Essex Institute 17 (1885), 170–75 covers the Egyptian data. 122   El-Khadragy, SAK 36 (2007), 125. This is unclear, however. 123   Conveniently, see H. Fischer, Kush 9 (1961), 70 (fig. 9) with his older study “Eleventh Dynasty. Relief Fragments from Deir el Bahri,” Yale University Art Gallery Bulletin 24.2 (1958), 33–8. 124   A.C. Western and W. McLeod, “Woods Used in Egyptian Bows and Arrows,” JEA 81 (1995), 77–94. See as well M. Fischer, “Holzanatomische Untersuchungen an altägyptischen Bögen aus dem Museum für Völkerkunde Hamburg,” Alt-Ägypten 30 (2000), 4–20.



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eastern and western deserts as well as in Nubia, with a second species also found in Nubia. Tamarisk is still found in the Delta but the most common and widespread species grew in the western desert and the wadis of the eastern desert and Sinai. It thus appears reasonable to hypothesize that the Naga ed-Deir material from Upper Egypt may indicate contact with Nubian soldiers who brought along their war equipment and who operated in the western caravan routes. Their hunting characteristics, noted above, can be brought into discussion. Yet from Thebes, Beni Hasan and Assiut, in contexts later than the First Intermediate Period, the convex bows are all of locally grown acacia wood. Double convex bows were typical of the entire temporal interval discussed here. That is to say, these bows, not made of different woods, had arcs that were very convex. The heads of the arrows were made of flint. Flint heads, like obsidian, penetrate animal tissue better than steel points of the same size, a fact that can be overlooked by modern researchers.125 Spears, also used in the Egyptian armies at all times, were employed to provide the final kill whereas the arrows would be used to wound the animal. (Spears penetrate a carcass deeper than an arrow.)126 This survey of the bow and arrow leads on to the conclusion that neither changed much during the large period of time encompassing the Old Kingdom (and earlier) to the Middle Kingdom. However, the method of bow release and, as Fischer indicated, the suspension of the soldier’s arrows did. By the Ramesside Period, if not earlier, the tertiary system of reading the arrow was in place. But we must keep in mind that the Egyptian bows then employed were different from those used in the Middle Kingdom and earlier. Egyptians used compound bows during the New Kingdom. (These facets will be discussed later in this study.) The standard Mediterranean release appears to have been the norm at an earlier time. If the Nubians introduced any development in archery, it was not with the type of bow or the 125   S. Pope, University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 13 (1923), 369 and 373. 126   G.H. Odell and F. Cowan, “Experiments with Spears and Arrows in Animal Targets,” JFA 13 (1986), 195–212 and p. 208 in particular. This is an excellent study. See as well J.D. Clark, J.L. Phillips, and P.S. Staley, “Interpretations of Prehistoric Technology from Ancient Egyptian and Other Sources, Part I: Ancient Egyptian Bows and Arrows and their Relevance for African Prehistory,” Paléorient 2 (1974), 323–88.

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arrowhead. The examples of tamarisk and sidder woods employed for the Naga ed-Deir bows may indicate a southern influence, but this must remain questionable even though acacia was always the norm within Egypt. Yet Fischer also noted that the transition in holding the bow and arrows occurred as early as the VIth Dynasty.127 Therefore, can a possible outside—i.e., Nubian—influence be the cause? As is evident from the reliefs at Beni Hasan, the bows could be strung just when the battle had commenced. It has to be kept in mind that archers needed both training and discipline in order to be effective warriors. Thus we have the logical two-platoon arrangement of spearmen and archers who fought with close-quarters infantry. This system of organization must have been similar to that of the Old Kingdom, if not and earlier, but was also played out, at least in Upper Egypt, during the years of disorganization and instability during the First Intermediate Period. The lack of maneuverability of the archers, who were after all footsoldiers, placed them at a disadvantage when the compound bow was introduced from Asia, a factor that also will be discussed later. In essence, the equipment of the archers was very conservative, and the Naga ed-Deir material lacked roughened surfaces in order to assist in pinching the arrows.128 There is, moreover, no evidence for a roughened surface at the nock end or a knobbed surface, both employed to pinch the arrow better. The inward curving of the nock might have been done in order to steady the grip of the hand when shooting. Interesting, it has been surmised that the arrows at this site were poisoned.129 Is this yet another possible reason why the Old Kingdom (and later) archers are depicted showing their arrow points downward rather than upwards? Noteworthy was the discovery that, at Naga ed-Deir, these poisoned arrows had unfletched shafts. The question whether they were aimed again humans or game remains an open one. Let us now return to the main issue; namely, the Nubian wood soldiers at Assiut. Their division of the army was not composed of men who were of the same height even though they show strength of body with a powerful musculature. The kilts are likewise different from those worn by their Egyptian companions-in-arms. Indeed, their cos  H. Fischer, JNES 21 (1962), 52.   J. Clark, J. Phillips, and P. Staley, Paléorient 2 (1974), 338 and 341 (from Naga ed-Deir). Pp. 346–7 cover the bows from his site (temp. Dynasty VI-XII [?]). 129   J. Clark, J. Phillips, and P. Staley, Paléorient 2 (1974), 338, 341–2, and 375. 127 128



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tume is that which the Gebelein soldiers wear, and there is no doubt that they resemble the Nubian C group people to a great extent. One man is clearly the leader of this division, a not unexpected facet of the nature of the Egyptian armies at this time. Most significant, perhaps, is the outstanding fact that the Nubian troops do not appear to be as uniform in size and apparel as do the Egyptians. They do not even march in an organized manner, and the first row of Nubians advance in a partial S formation. Has this to do with their original function as hunters? Even the spaces between the rows of Nubian soldiers are greater than that of the Egyptians. I suspect that one can argue for a different means of fighting between the Egyptians and the Nubians. As Bietak has commented, surely this was due to the nature of shooting arrows.130 The Nubians carry their arrows in their right hands, some of which are pointed whilst others are have wider tips made of flint. But whereas the Gebelein representations appear to be dated to the period of the Theban XIth Dynasty at a time when the unification of Egypt was still insecure, and later when the north was undergoing conquest from Thebes, these models can be placed to the era of the transition to Dynasty XII. Yet a detailed analysis of the extant depictions of Nubian soldiers (archers) allows one to see, at a date later than the First Intermediate Period, the dependence of the Egyptian armies upon Nubians. Some of the Gebelein and Aswan data, as well as the evidence from Moalla (Anchtify’s tomb) can be placed into a time period before the solidification of the Theban Dynasty in the south whereas the Theban material is securely dated to middle-late Dynasty XI, with the Assiut models providing the final switch from Dynasty XI to XII. Rather than identifying the men with the C group, Bietak argued for Nubians of the Pan Grave culture as well as the Medjay, peoples of the eastern desert regions. The latter soldiers became important during the Middle Kingdom as elite troops and were significant during the Second Intermediate Period. Yet earlier it was the Nubian Nehesy, inhabitants of the Nile, who played similar roles as mercenaries, and they belonged to the C Group population of Lower Nubia. In fact, their smaller size had one advantage in that it enabled then to be more effective in war than the larger men of the Pan Grave and Medjay populations. Finally, we must not forget that these Nubians were also proficient in oaring   M. Bietak, “Zu den Bogenschützen aus Assiut,” pp. 89 and 91.

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boats, a significant task as the locals armies in Egypt were always dependent upon a navy. The Old Kingdom and Earlier When we turn back earlier the data for our reconstruction of the Egyptian military become even more slim. Despite the paucity of source material for scholars, it has been realized that from the inception of the First Dynasty onwards until the collapse of the Old Kingdom no standing army existed that was integrated, as a self-standing corporation, within the Egyptian state. True, it can be argued that the growing unification of Egypt in Dynasty 0, culminating with the effective conquest of the Delta by the south, automatically implies the presence of royal armies. Nevertheless, the issue is one of quality. That is to say, despite the solidification of pharaonic power over the north and the south, from the Mediterranean to Aswan, the technological level and coercive ability of the archaic Egyptian state could not provide the costs that had to be incurred if the monarch kept an independent fit and able fighting force always available for their interests. Internal cohesive aspects, of course, were maintained. Externally, however, we should not be surprised that no imperialistic policy was ever maintained. Before covering in some detail the evidence for the military at this very early time, it may be useful to survey two major pieces of information that shed a light upon the practices of the Old Kingdom monarchy. I am not referring to the various caravan leaders who traversed a considerably amount of distance in the western desert.131 These Libyan forays were, at best, evidence for an interest on the part of the 131   The following very recent studies are pertinent in this context (with ample bibliography): K.P. Kuhlman, “The ‘Oasis Bypath’ or The Issue of desert Trade in Pharaonic Times,” in: Tides of the Desert—Gezeiten der Wüste, Rudolph Kuper, ed. (Cologne, 2002), 125–70; R. Kuper, “News from Nubia’s western hinterland,” in: Acta Nubica: Proceedings of the X International Conference of Nubian Studies Rome 9–14 September 2002, I. Caneva and A. Roccati, eds. (Rome, 2006), 355–63; F. Förster, “The Abu Ballas Trail: a Pharaonic donkey-caravan route in the Libyan Desert (SW-Egypt),” in Atlas of Cultural and Environmental Change in Arid Africa, O. Bubenzer, A. Bolten, and F. Darius, eds. (Cologne, 2007), 130–33 with H. Riemer’s contribution in the same volume, “The archaeology of a desert road—the navigation system of the Aby Ballas Trail,” 134–41; F. Förster, “With donkeys, jars and water bags into the Libyan Desert: the Abu Ballas Trail in the late Old Kingdom/First Intermediate Period,” BMSAES 7 (2007), 1–36; J. Clayton, A. De Trafford, and M. Borda, “A Hieroglyphic Inscription found at Jebel Uweinat mentioning Yam and Tekhebet,” Sahara 19 (2008), 129–34.



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rulers to control trade route and, in Lower Nubia, to insure that the valuable exotic and non-Egyptian products came back to the homeland. Among the latter we may stress the presence of the diorite quarries in Lower Nubia located to the east of the Nile. I do not wish to belittle the effective administration that the Egyptians established in the western oases during the VIth Dynasty. Here once more the aim was not annexation of foreign territory per se, but rather the desire to secure all major routes that lead into Egypt. Remembering simply that the Egyptian possessed only donkeys and warriors armed with spears combined with archer infantrymen, it is not difficult to see that their technological superiority over potential enemies such as Nubians was rather limited. Owing to Bietak’s study of the Old Kingdom marine, we can now perceive more clearly the aspects of Egyptian relations abroad.132 Once more, it was water that played the major role in Egypt’s attempt to engage in foreign relations. The famous reliefs from the mortuary complex of Sahure in Dynasty V indicate close connections to Asia during the Early Bronze III Period. It is claimed that “Syrian slaves” were brought back to Egypt, most probably from the Lebanese seaport of Byblos. Keeping in mind that navies do not conquer but at best influence, the argument that a regularized policy of capturing slaves is impossible to defend. Bietak keenly observed that one relief dated to the time of Unas shows Asiatics manning ships, thereby indicating a case of peaceful commercial relations between Egypt and the Levant. This evidence reminds one immediately of the well-known term “Byblos Ships,” first attested in Dynasty VI and, quite reasonably, the parallel to “China Clippers” has been made.133 It is probable that Lebanese sailors were employed in the Egyptian commercial flotilla of the day and, more significantly, the also were active in Egyptian building. The parallel with Nubian soldiers within Egypt in the same era cannot be overlooked. Yet the presence of a naval dockyard in connection with a flotilla, known from Dynasty VI in a tomb at Giza, cannot be ignored.

132   M. Bietak, “Zur Marine des Alten Reiches,” in: Pyramid Studies and Other Essays Presented to I. E. S. Edwards, J. Baines, T.G.H. James, A. Leahy, and A.F. Shore, eds. (London, 1998), 35–40. 133   M. Bietak, “Zur Marine des Alten Reiches,” p. 37.

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Campaigns of Egypt against foreigners, especially Nubians, are nonetheless recorded in Egyptian sources.134 But the importance of the native military remains had to define. One Dynasty V “overseer of a host” calls himself a “young man.”135 This word need not mean “recruit” as Fischer has remarked, yet the significance of the designation in combination with Berlev’s work on the Middle Kingdom army leaves no doubt that we possess the almost ever-present common link of army men with youth. I agree that the term “seems almost more descriptive than titulary,” but this does not imply that the man was not, at some time in his life, a virile warrior. A second title of this man (Kaiaper) is “scribe of the king’s host/army in Wunet,”136 In fact, the title “scribe of the army/host” may imply activities that were not necessarily purely military, such as practiced by warriors. Yet note that this man was also an “oarsman of a boat,” once more reminding us of the marine aspect of pre New Kingdom military men. One other Old Kingdom man is know to have been a “recruiter of the desert guides of Wenet and of every foreign land,” thereby indicating the nature of the activities. In fact, the locality of Wenet was associated with skiffs, thereby indicating a marine orientation. Other titles of this intriguing man include direct association with the western and eastern lands as well as in the Terrace of Turquoise. Fischer has, in fact, provided a useful catalogue of other royal army scribes, thereby allow us to hypothesize the existence of a “state run” army in the Old Kingdom, even if the military was not as significant as in later times. To this can be added the interesting designation of “director of all the bowcase bearers,” once more indicating Kaiaper’s duties within an armed host, specifically with reference to archery. Fischer summarized his work on the man’s tomb, known only from some fragments, by observing that he belonged to a family of expedition leaders, “commanders of hosts,” At this early date such men were not generals whose purposes were purely associated with the military. Perhaps the lack of a detailed hierarchical structure associated with the Old Kingdom army, organized by rank and title, may be due to the   B. Gratien, “Le Basse Nubie à l’Ancien Empire: égyptiens et autochtones,” JEA 81 (1995), 43–56 is a useful study concerned with Egyptian-Nubian contacts within an archaeological context. 135   H. Fischer, “A Scribe of the Army in a Saqqara Mastaba of the Early Fifth Dynasty,” JNES 18 (1959), 233–72 is a major source for the following analysis. See pp. 258–9 in particular. 136   H. Fischer, JNES 18 (1959), 260–5. 134



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absence of a reasonably-sized independent military corporation. That is to say, campaigns abroad would have been, as a rule, organized on an ad hoc basis. The Old Kingdom was particularly concerned with “foreign bowmen” (i.e., archers from abroad).137 Provincial governors of the Late Old Kingdom sometimes bear the title “overseer of the king’s fortresses” or “overseer of fortresses.” It has been convincingly argued that the “land of the Bowmen” may have been in the western or eastern deserts rather than to the south in Nubia. Therefore, referring to tomb N 248 at Naga ed-Deir which mentions a military action by a nomarch and “overseers of the host/army,” it is plausible to support this suggestion of Fischer. The tomb owner of remarks that he was involved “in repelling the foreign bowmen who were coming down from the southern mountain lands.” Cannot this historical reference indicate a battle that took place between Egyptians and enemy soldiers who were traveling down from the Libyan plateau into Egypt? If so, this conclusions fits into the framework of the geographical explorations of Darnell in the western desert, especially in the context of warfare.138 In the 6th dynasty Lower Nubia was organized into small chiefdoms numbering six.139 To the west were the C Group people whom we have met earlier in our discussion of the first phase of the divided Egyptian polity after the fall of the Old Kingdom. Perhaps the soldiers of the southernmost kingdom of Yam (around the Kerma basin) were recruited there and brought to Egypt. Whether this speculation is correct or not, it is noteworthy that the courtier Weni, living in the first half of the VIth Dynasty, mentions Nubian soldiers in Egyptian employ during a land-based campaign against Asiatics.140 Nubians, it should not be forgotten, also provided much needed wood for the timbers of ships used in the various quarrying around the First Cataract maintained by the pharaohs of this period.

137   H. Fischer, “Two New Titles of the Old Kingdom,” in: Aegyptus Museis Rediviva: Miscellanea in Honorem Hermanni de Meulenaere, L. Limme and J. Strybol, eds. (Brussels, 1993), 91–5. 138   In particular see the two studies of J. Darnell cited in note 97 above. 139   In general, D. O’Connor, Ancient Nubia: Egypt’s Rival in Africa (Philadephia, 1993), Chapters 2–3; S. Seidlmayer, “Nubier im ägyptischen Kontext im Alten und Mittleren Reich,” and M. Bietak, “The C-Group and the Pan-Grave Culture in Nubia.” 140   This will be discussed below. For the text of Weni, see M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature I, 18–23.

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The presence of Egyptians in Nubia at a permanent installation appears to have followed the campaign of king Snefru of Dynasty IV. At that time, and in the following dynasty, Egyptian influence remained strong in Lower Nubia. In quarries 65 km to the west of Abu Simbel, for example, we read the names of kings Cheops, Djedefre, Sahure, and Djedkare-Izezi, thereby providing a useful chronological chart from the great pharaoh of Dynasty IV up to almost the end of the succeeding royal house.141 Buhen at the Second Cataract was an Old Kingdom site, but here the terminus of Egyptian influence appears to be at the close of Dynasty V. There is one administrative term that may be connected to the Egyptian domination and control over Lower Nubia, and it is dated to the 5th dynasty: “chief/overseer of the guards of the southern frontier.” If the titles and inscriptions of Dynasty VI appear to give the impression of some type of Egyptian control over this southern region, the situation was not the same as earlier. It was in the northern sector of Lower Nubia that the Egyptian effected some type of control involving commerce and also attempted raids (which achieved no permanent occupation). But the Egyptians could not go further south. In a zone that extended from Aniba upstream, the Nubians were independent of any Egyptian power. There are two important written historical sources, outside of two important private tomb scenes that have always been brought into discussion regarding the Egyptian military of the Old Kingdom. The first text is that of the “governor of Upper Egypt” Weni.142 The crucial passage narrative warfare opens with a simple, almost royal overbearing, reason for a campaign. King Pepi I “took action against the Asiatic Sand-dwellers.” This traditional term for Egypt’s Palestinian or possibly Sinai neighbors is laconically presented. The army or host was composed of two geographic sectors: men from Upper Egypt (Aswan/ Elephantine to Upper Egyptian nome XXII) and the Delta. The north is further described as encompassing the east and west side. In other words, the troops were marshaled from all of Egypt. But they included Nubians as well, and those mercenaries (or active warriors) in the Egyptian state came from the southern lands of Wawat and Irtejet in

  For this data and the following, see B. Gratien, JEA 81 (1995), 43–56.   M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature I, 18–21; add J. Richards, “Text and Context in Late Old Kingdom Egypt: The Archaeology and Historiography of Weni the Elder,” JARCE 39 (2002), 75–102. 141 142



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Lower Nubia, the Medjay from the east, and those peoples from Yam and Kaau even further south. Finally, Libyans are also mentioned. If the army was composite, it had to be lead by more than a few high officials. Indeed, the catalogue of bureaucratic men who accompanied Weni provides a list of the great administrative controllers and officials in Old Kingdom Egypt. Earlier, we have mentioned the term “royal army” when referring to an important study of Fischer.143 And it is significant that the title “scribe of the king’s army” is followed by a geographic locality, thereby indicating duties that could involve foreign lands. Indeed, the term “overseer of the host/army” was also held by Kaiaper of Dynasty V, but as we have remarqued frequently, this title is “sufficiently elastic” to refer to any type of expedition as well as work projects.144 Weni then “determined” (i.e., organized) the numbers of fighting men. One supposes from his account that such an army had never before been established by a personal favorite of the king. As to be expected from a self-laudatory biography, the Egyptians defeated their enemy and returned successfully. The author of the tomb biography then provides the victorious chants that the Egyptian army sung marching home. Aside from “strongholds,” fortified cities or garrisons, the account refers to figs and wine, thereby attesting to an agriculturally based enemy. (The zone of conflict has to have been southern Palestine.) Outside of the unclear word for “mansions” or “settlements,” there is little else. Yet the initial success was not permanent because Weni had to go five more times into Asia to attack the enemy. No reason is given for this campaign; the background details are lacking. Instead, the biography emphasizes the leadership of the nonmilitary figure of Weni. The mention of the battle at a locality called “Gazelle’s Head” is not helpful to any extent. Ships were used in that follow-up, and one suspects that a campaign around the Sinai Peninsula or else on the coast of southern Palestine was intended. It is nonetheless intriguing that Weni laconically indicates that he attacked this   H. Fischer, JNES 18 (1959), 260–5.   H. Fischer, JNES 18 (1959), 268–9 (with Fischer’s phrase) where the troops called mnf¡t and hj are discussed. I prefer to translate the former as “infantry” in this case. In the Old Kingdom “host” for mšʿ seems to be the best general interpretation. N. Strudwick, The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom (London, 1985), 222 highlights the title for the organization of labor and places the word “military” with inverted brackets when referring to “military” titles. See as well p. 233. H. Fischer’s “Kaiaper” is included. For hj, why not read h(¡)j? 143 144

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foreign territory by two means, land and water. Yet it is impossible to interpret his campaigning any further owing to the limited details that Weni provides. He does indicate that he lead one division of troops, first by sea and then over land. We may assume that this arrangement indicates that the more elite troops went with Weni and the lesser important soldiers went by land direct to the Head of the Gazelle. By reaching his foe from the sea Weni was also able to stop “marauders” or, as I suspect, felling enemy troops who were escaping their fate. In this account it is noteworthy that no “generals” of “overseers of a host” appear as the commanders. Indeed, the lack of high ranking officialdom of the soldiery is indicative of the lack of a permanent separate or independent, though state-run, armed force. A “king’s army” or “king’s host” (mšʿ njzwt) is referred to in the texts, as Fischer noted. But were these expeditionary forces formed on an ad-hoc basis and not necessarily solely preoccupied for war? The lattre supposition seems to fit well into the society of this time. Moreover, in the Old Kingdom scenes of warfare as well as in texts no royal figure appears in battle. Michel Baud, who surveyed in depth the connections of the royals with power, never mentioned the role of the army.145 King’s sons, grandsons, nephews never lead armies. Neither by rank nor by title were they connected to an established corporate war machine. The participation, if that is the correct word, of royal sons to the government under the IVth Dynasty was relegated to the vizierate, work projects, and expeditions (which always had a quasi-military aspect). Baud calls such men “catalysers” in the development of monarchal sovereignty and control.146 But with the expansion of pharaonic administration, the highest officials were no longer sought from the males of the royal house. The narrow patrimonial society of earlier times—from Dynasty I to the close of the IIIrd—gradually ceased to be the driving force of the nascent “true” Egyptian state, one that can be placed to Dynasty III, if not later at the commencement of the 5th. In the Late Old Kingdom internal pyramidal structures of powerful families dominated the organization of the kingdom. Certain men, though not related to a pharaoh, were nevertheless called “king’s son,” thereby indicating the

145   M. Baud, Famille royal et pouvoir sous l’Ancient Empire égyptien (Cairo: BdE 126, 1999). 146   M. Baud, Famille royal et pouvoir sous l’Ancient Empire égyptien, p. 376.



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older strings of dependence. Yet the titles of royal parentage also lost their significance by the 5th dynasty in when “merit,” it is presupposed, rather than “strength,” took over. Here I doubt the antithesis, believing that the power of a family determined the future of the natal sons. Nonetheless, it is clear that a “kinship oriented hierarchy” rose, one in which the primary resources of the land were paramount (via the treasury and the granaries). By Dynasty VI one sees the tension between the royal power, centralized, and the great provincial families. But even at this time there is lacking any specific role for a general of an Egyptian army. Hence, Weni’s career is not unusual when this system of government is examined carefully. No doubt reflecting the age was the lack of a military ethos. Neither the kings nor their male offspring appear in inscriptions or are depicted in reliefs as the New Kingdom royals do. The same contrast can be made between the Middle Kingdom pharaohs (and their male sons) and the royalty of the Old Kingdom. This difference is not a minor one. The evidence from the Middle Kingdom is in contrast to that of the Old. (However, it can be compared with the First Intermediate Period despite the paucity of data.) By the Late Old Kingdom, and particularly during Dynasty VI, the powerful functionaries were connected to provincial families who possessed great influence. Baud notes that the latter ended up being a substitute for the monarchy. Moreover, the terms connected with their power reflect a local paternalistic and protective nature, ones connected with their jurisdiction over their nomes.147 From these families came the power brokers of the opening decades of the First Intermediate Period. According to Moreno García, “war appears to have pursued the main goal of controlling trade and strategic routes and areas.”148 He further argued that the aims of Egypt’s foreign policy at the time of the Old Kingdom are difficult to ascertain. Moreover, the discovery of yet another Egyptian naval expedition abroad to Phoenicia has further disoriented modern scholarship.149 By and large, war and conquest was 147   M. Baud, Famille royal et pouvoir sous l’Ancient Empire égyptien, passim, especially pp. 374–9 for a summary. 148   J.C. Moreno García, “War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE),” in: Studies on War in the Ancient Near East: Collected Essays on Military History, J. Vidal, ed. (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag; 2010), 7. 149   M. Marcolin, “The Sixth Dynasty Inscription of Iny: More Pieces to the Puzzle”, at the conference Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2010, held in Prague, May 31st—June 4th, 2010, and “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche

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shunned if not completely avoided. The Egyptian state simply could not control populations, especially large sedentary ones, of Western Asia. The technology as well as lack of able and willing administrative personnel prohibited it. It is intriguing that Moreno García places emphasis upon the late Old Kingdom’s forays outside of the kingdom. Nevertheless, one must subscribe to his contention that “war played a rather marginal role in Egyptian geopolitics after 2600 B.C.E.”150 To be sure, arsenals are known in the sources from the beginning of the third millennium B.C., and there can be little doubt that naval logistics played a major role in Egypt’s relations in the Red Sea and the Levant. One can add the recent archaeological finds in the Dakhla Oasis and link that evidence with the logistics of donkey caravaneeing south of Aswan and through the great western Libyan desert.151 Other expeditions, such as the diorite quarrying équipe in Lower Nubia or the explotation of the turquoise mines in the south Sinai, provide us with ancillary data concerning the long-range logistics of travel and sustenance of a large body of men. However, the administrative record of the Old Kingdom allows us little worthwhile data concerning the raising of any troops. Local leaders appear to have arranged the levying of troops needed for work. From this practice it has been surmised that the later Upper Egyptian leaders of the early First Intermediate Period could have found troops in order to form their own armies.152 A further important piece of inscriptional evidence concerning the military during the Old Kingdom supports these generalizations. The famous voyages of Harkhuf south into Nubia demonstrate, once more, the absence of any standing Egyptian army, despite the difficulties that he encountered during his third voyage.153 Harkhuf was dispatched southwards in order to “open up” the ways to the kingdom of Yam (around the Kerma bend). The first two expeditions were apparently

e geographiche”, Atti dell’ Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche, Filologiche 144 (2010), 43-79. Once again we can reiterate the common phrase: “navies capture ports, armies hold them.” To establish an empire permanent infantry control over foreign lands is necessary. This, however, must be soon reinforced by a regularized bureaucratic system. 150   “War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE),” 11. 151   Thomas Schneider, “The West beyond the West: The Mysterious ‘Wernes’ of the Egyptian Underworld and the Chad Parallels,” Journal of Ancient Egyptian Interconnections 2.4 (2010), 1–14. 152   Moreno García, “War in Old Kingdom Egypt (2686–2125 BCE),” 22. 153   M. Lichtheim Ancient Egyptian Literature I, 23–7; add H. Goedicke, “Harkhuf ’s Travels,” JNES 40 (1981), 1–20.



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mercantile in outlook, and the second is interesting owing to the path that Harkhuf took; namely, the water route south from Elephantine. He also returned by the Nile, traversing the Lower Nubian chiefdoms of Setju and Irtjet. During his third expedition, however, the voyage commenced from This in the VIIIth Upper Egyptian and took a southwest direction. The use of this oasis route in the Libyan Desert is important because Harkhuf traveled westward into the land of the Tjemeh Libyans in order to meet the ruler of Yam. During his return northwards, when Harkhuf went on the Nile, he was fortunate to have soldiers of the chief of Yam with him. From this portion of his account it is clear that the Lower Nubian chiefdoms were in the process of amalgamation and would have showed, at least theoretically, opposition to the Egyptians. Harkhuf also traveled by land across the hill country of Irtjet northwards, and stresses his dependence upon the troops of Yam who accompanied him. Additional details from other Nubian expeditions reinforce this viewpoint.154 By the close of Dynasty VI the Lower Nubian chiefdoms had merged into a reasonably sized polity. Egypt had thus to deal with a more troublesome situation, one in which they had to depend upon a more distant ally upstream, the ruler of Yam, in order to deflect potential difficulties. Yet there were no major expeditions sent upstream by the pharaohs as, for example, we noted during the Middle Kingdom. The lack of a self-standing royally organized army, a corporation independent of any other activity save warfare, should not allow us to conclude that the country was weak. The possibility of serious external threats at this time appears minimal at best, and not at all threatening to the stability of the country. It has been argued that trade was becoming increasingly difficult in the south, and perhaps difficulties occurred in an increasing fashion at the northeast, in southern Palestine. True, the western desert routes were potentially under threat, even if the rulers of Dynasty VI exercised control over the key oases in that far-away region. Yet the Old Kingdom state did not need to exercise its power outside of the homeland but by means of raids. Perhaps it wished to conquer the territories of Lower Nubia, but lacking a permanent scribal and coercive network of warriors, military

154   In general, see G. Meurer, Nubier in Ägypten bis zum Beginn des Neuen Reiches: Zur Bedeutung der Stele Berlin 14753 (Berlin, 1996); and J. Phillips, “Punt and Aksum; Egypt and the Horn of Africa,” Journal of African History 38 (1997), 423–57.

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administrators, and garrison commanders, no effective means of conquest could be brought into play. By the First Intermediate Period the very south was “open” to Nubian influence, but after the solidification of the Theban state of Dynasty XI, the Upper Egyptians could be relatively confident that their region would not be threatened by invasion. It was the need of troops, both young and elite, that determined the martial aspects of this era. Owing to the contests for power, ones which led two major polities dividing Egypt, that state armies arose, presaging a trend that ultimately would end with the domination of Thebes. Unlike Old Kingdom Egypt, that later state possessed an effective fighting force, one that was able to advance southwards into Lower Nubia with the pharaoh now at its head. The lack of a permanent body, a state-run army that could be integrated into the bureaucracy, is the negative hallmark of the military if the Old Kingdom. This can be also observed by a perusal of the few royal pictorial accounts of war that are extant. I can refer to one, often discussed, that was carved on the wall in the great court of Sahure in his mortuary complex that depicts the Libyan campaign.155 The importance of this military scenes does not depend upon the subsequent “plagiarisms” (actually: re-use) by three subsequent Old Kingdom pharaohs and by even by Taharqa of Dynasty XXV. It is their avoidance of combat depictions, however, that is most striking. Although the king is depicted as a gigantic lion trampling his foes, the emphasis is placed upon the booty brought back to Egypt. The reliefs present the Libyan royal family (the human foe), cows, donkeys, goats, bulls, and sheep. The quadrupeds could have been used within Egypt, of course, and the captives indicate successfully the sign of Egyptian dominance of Libyan subservience. (Note as well the descending arrangement with the largest of the animals on top.) Perhaps the lack of topographical description in these reliefs indicates the lack of towns in Libya. Equally, however, we may witness an Old Kingdom pictorial topos wherein the Egyptian artists avoided scenes of battle and combat. Observe, as well, the presence of the goddess Sheshat at the right who is counting the booty on a wooden tablet. Evidently, the focus of

155   The discussion of W.S. Smith, Interconnections in the Ancient Near East: A Study of the Relationshoips between the Arts of Egypt, the Aegean, and Western Asia (New Haven and London, 1965), 149 is pertinent in this context.



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the relief is upon the successful plunder, including the elite of three separate Libyan groups. One may suppose that, as in the days of Merenptah and Ramesses III, the Libyan attacks took place close to Egypt and thus the necessity of providing a visual backdrop or setting of the enemy land was not necessary. Be that as it may, it nonetheless remains there is a great difference between the Ramesside scenes of Libyan conflicts—and one can include the Seti I evidence as well—and that of Sahure. Baldly put, these Old Kingdom reliefs avoid placing the king in the later heroic pose of a youthful and virile war leader, one who, at the head of his army, defeats chaos and returns home victoriously with his army. It appears self-evident that the absence of the king with his troops was not a topos of the Old Kingdom artists, and the lack of the image must be related to the absence of a standing army lead by the all powerful commander in chief pharaoh. But as well, the absence of the New Kingdom warrior ethos and the connection of pharaoh to his god Amun of Thebes, have no parallel in the society of the Old Kingdom. Yet the early concept of pharaonic kingship as practiced from Dynasties I to VI did not operate within the imperial traditions of royalty so well known to us from the Middle and New Kingdoms. Both the institution of a standing army as well as an imperialistic-nationalistic feeling was not significant at this time. Naturally, technology as well as ideology are intertwined, and I do not wish to argue which of the two was the “egg” and which was the “chicken.” (Or was it “necessity”?). Weapons, Armor, War Material156 Because armaments of any sort are connected with the structures of military administration, as they lead to a reorganization of the war machine, it is best to conclude this discussion with an overview of this side of the Egyptian army. The basic elements of the oldest Egyptian weapons known to us include the mace, which by historical times was pear shaped, the spear, and the equipment for the archers.157 We have 156   The general study of Y. Yadin, The Art of War in Biblical Lands I (New York, Toronto, and London, 1963) is still recommended, but we can add R. Partridge, Fighting Pharaohs, Chapter 2 for a more up-to-date discussion of these matters as well as G. Cavillier, Il faraone guerrio, pp. 71–85, and I. Shaw, Egyptian Warfare and Weapons (Princes Risborough, 1991). 157   R. Partridge, Fighting Pharaohs, pp. 32–5.

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already described the simple bow employed within Egypt that was double convex. There is little doubt that this weapon was the major implement used in war. The mace, for example, was too bulky. Its relatively short shaft also limited its range, and its presence in commonplace smiting scenes indicates that it was employed to mop us an already defeated foe. Armor was not worn during the third millennium B.C. even if socketed axes were prevalent. Shallow axes could be employed in open battle, and they were pierced with holes in order to be attached to a shaft. The three-tanged or “epsilon” axe, known from Western Asia as well as from Egypt, was introduced from the Levant.158 There is clear-cut evidence for its use in Egypt during late Predynastic times, as the research of Güther Dreyer showed.159 Needless to say, bronze was not employed on a regular basis until the middle of the Second Intermediate Period. Sieges were not uncommon. In one depiction from the 5th Dynasty at Saqqara the axes have a semi-circular head. That tomb scene also provides a unique example of a mobile scaling ladder moved by solid wooden wheels whereas a second depiction from Deshasheh shows the ordinary type of scaling ladder put into use by the Egyptians in order to reach the top of a fortified city. Later, a flat socketless cutting axe came into use for the soldiers, and once more its origin is clear: Asia. It appears that the Egyptian civilization had little immediate need to expand the repertoire and effectiveness of its ranges of weapons. This has often been falsely attributed to a presumed “conservative” nature of the country. It appears more likely, however, that the lack of continual warfare, as was prevalent in the Levant and in Mesopotamia, may be a more reasonable cause. Any increase in military activity within a polity, such as we have seen taking place in Egypt during the First Intermediate Period, tends to entail a greater demand for more effective weaponry. By the Middle Kingdom, for example, the Egyptian war machine had come to deploy large shields of rawhide and quivers, the latter definitely being an Asiatic import. The flat socketless axe proved extremely

158   B. Sass and M. Sebbane, “The Fourth-Millennium BCE Origin of the ThreeTanged ‘Epsilon’ Axe,” in: “I Will Speak the Riddles of Ancient Times”: Archaeological and Historical Studies in Honor of Amihai Mazar on the Occasion of his Sixtieth Birthday II, A.M. Maeir and P. de Miroschedji, eds. (Winona Lake, 2006), 79–88. 159   B. Sass and M. Sebbane, “The Fourth-Millennium BCE Origin of the ThreeTanged ‘Epsilon’ Axe,” 83.



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useful against footsoldiers who did not wear armor. During the third millennium B.C. the axes were wide-edged, effective in slashing and wounding the enemy. But piercing axes did not exist in Egypt at this time although the blades tended to become thinner, and thus easier to handle while providing a deep wound.160 Soldiers who were proficient in wielding spears and javelins were strictly separated from the archers. Unlike the latter men, the arm provided the sole means of propulsion. Hence, those warriors would fight closer to their opponents than the bowmen. The copper axes that the Egyptian employed contained arsenic that was added in order to provide more durability and effective cutting. This element increases the hardness, a factor that was of paramount importance, and only was later supplanted by the compound of tin and copper (true bronze) beginning later in the 12th dynasty. A chronology of the alloy types employed in axes now held by the British Museum shows a radically sharp increase in bronze during the Second Intermediate Period, again indicating that this alloy was also introduced from Asia, and only became important when connections between Egypt and the Levant were strong. It is noteworthy that bronze tools, in contrast to bronze axes, had less tin. Therefore, we may propose the situation in which bronze use during the Second Intermediate Period and into Dynasty XVIII was of a higher technological nature owing to warfare. 160   It is necessary to add the follwoing remarks with regard to E. Oren, “A Middle Bronze Age I Warrior at Beth-Shan,” ZDPV 87 (1971), 109–39. Oren showed without doubt that the Beni Hasan representation the so-called “Asiatic visit” of Canaanites is something quite different. The “representation shows, clearly and undoubtedly, the arrival of a “clan” or group of warriors, mercenaries, plus family in Middle Egypt. One must read this study when analyzing that famous scene. He has proven that the duckbill axe “had already become a standard weapon” (p. 113). Moreover, that axe “and the newly introduced chisel-like axe types were employed side by side” in the middle decades of the eighteenth century B.C.” (p. 114). Note his analysis of bronze plus zinc on pp. 128–31. In Syria the personal military equipment became richer, and included, as a rule, spears, axes, and daggers (p. 133). See as well the military equipment evidence in Syria where bronze weapons and fenestrated axes were typical. The chisel-type axes “are usually found alongside Tell el-Yahudiyeh ware of typical MB II” (p. 136) and the absence of this ware “from MB I deposits in Syria-Palestine, or Twelfth Dynasty contexts in Egypt, unmistakably imply Second Intermediate horizon for the ware in question” (p. 138). The entire study is a desideratum, and it resolves the implication of the famous Beni Hasan scene. We have clear-cut evidence for the advanced military weaponry of Syria-Palestine during the 13th dynasty and the perplexing scene at Beni Hasan has been resolved, albeit in 1971. Therefore, we have clear-cut evidence of the presence of Asiatic mercenaries in Egypt during the heyday of the Middle Kingdom and, equally, the importation of advanced weaponry into Egypt at the same time from the Levant.

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Thus there was some development in weaponry and armament by Dynasty XII in defense as well as offense—see the use of large shields, for example. The major changes in Egypt took place in the time of the Late Middle Kingdom and later. Whether the major changes were by sea contact with the Levant or by direct overland connections is still open to discussion. However, note that Amenemhet II from the Levant secured copper and bronze as recorded in his “Annals.” One can add Egypt’s dependence upon timber for ships, additionally noted in that pharaoh’s account. In fact, the possible reference to 60 six-spoked wheels in the list of booty, as previously mentioned, cannot be ignored. See too the list of spears/arrows of bronze and lances of copper. Evidently, just as in the New Kingdom, earlier rulers of Egypt would take advantage of their battlefield success by taking away their opponent’s weapons or demanding them from the defeated city-states. Yet it is the chariot and horse system in the New Kingdom that differentiates, in so remarkable a fashion, the New Kingdom army from that of previous eras. True, the introduction of the composite bow from Western Asia also has to be mentioned, if only as that more effective means of disabling a foe lead to the development of personal armor of leather (helmets and a primitive cuirass), and thus transformed the equipment of war.161 We have already remarked upon the elite New Kingdom military division of the fighting chariot warrior. Those men, with their composite bows, used the chariot as a mobile platform to shoot javelins as well as arrows. The angular composite bow, an Asiatic weapon, could be manufactured in Egypt, but only after the concept (or idea) and effective use of the weapon had been recognized, and subsequently manufactured by the Egyptians. Normally, one places the introduction of these new technological items to the Hyksos era of the Second Intermediate Period, but that conclusion presents a wide time margin. Thus often scholars add the adjective “late” without, however, investigating the situation further. The first presence of Egyptian chariotry is dated to the reign of Kamose of Late Dynasty XVII. Evidence of four-spoked chariots appears in the opening decades of the New Kingdom and subsequently, by the middle of Dynasty XVIII, we see the slow emergence of six-spoked

161  W. McLeod, “An Unpublished Egyptian Composite Bow in the Brooklyn Museum,” AJA 62 (1958), 397–401 is an excellent introduction to the technological aspects of this weapon.



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chariots.162 Granted that the manufacture of these wheeled vehicles was complex and dependent upon first the introduction and later the breeding of horses within Egypt. How long this took remains an open question even if the excavations at Avaris (Tell ed-Daba) provide some clue relating to the precise time. Yet no data are preserved that indicate the wholesale deployment of the horse and chariot before the end of the Hyksos domination of Lower and Middle Egypt. Although I do not agree with one supposition that “many other innovations in Egyptian warfare seem to coincide with the immediate aftermath of the Hyksos Period,” it remains the case that only under Kamose’s immediate successor that the Egyptians completely moved away from their earlier marine-based way of fighting. Of course, this had to do with the cessation of warfare within Egypt and the immediate push by Ahmose into the Sinai and southern Palestine. But Canaanites infiltrated into the eastern Delta considerably earlier, in the first half of Dynasty XII to be exact. Later, this population in the Delta grew and there was logically an increase in imports from Canaan to Egypt. Moreover, there is clear-cut evidence for a “strong commercial relationship between Egypt and the northern Levant,” if only due to the presence of the so-called “Hyksos” Tell el-Yahudiyah vessels that were found at Avaris and other eastern Delta sites dated to the Middle Kingdom and later.163 Significantly, the southern Levant played a minor role in trade during Dynasties XII–XIII, undoubtedly due to the “undeveloped and most likely inconsequential settlements in the southern Levant.” But the upsurge of Asian traits in the Delta is marked by the 14th dynasty and the assumption that trade activities were organized by the Canaanite population of Egypt rather than by the pharaohs is a reasonable deduction. Yet by the beginning of the Second Intermediate Period the southern Levant and northwestern Negev began to play a greater role in trade and communication with Egypt. Yet trade relations between the Delta and the northern Levant were sustained—indeed were quite high—during the era of the Hyksos 162   See G. Cavillier, Il carro e le armi del Museo Egizion di Firenzi (Florence, 2002). A useful summary concerning bows and arrows is by C.E. Grayson, M. French, and M.J. O’Brien, Traditional Archery from Six Continents (Columbia*, 2007), Chapter 1. 163   For the data on the Tell el-Yahudiyah vessels I am dependent upon the kind offices of Prof. E. Oren and Dr. A. Cohen-Weinberger. Her study is Petrography of Middle Bronze 2 Age Pottery: Implications to Understanding Egypto-Canaanite Relations (Tell Aviv University Ph.D. Dissertation) (Tel Aviv, 2007); and D.A. A Ston and M. Bietak, The Classification and Chronology of Tell el-Jahudiya Ware (Vienna, 2012).

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(Dynasty XV). It is thus reasonable to date the arrival of the horse and chariot to that time period, and directly from the north rather than, as has been usually assumed, by land through southern Canaan. Body armor, for example, appears to have been introduced by the early New Kingdom at the latest, undoubtedly a result of the use of composite bows. Similarly, the rapid adoption of horse-based chariot warfare can probably be placed into the final decades of Dynasty XVII. On the other hand, did the Hyksos block access to more sophisticated weapons such as chariots? Yet peaceful relations are known to have existed between them and the southern Theban kingdom (Dynasty XVII). Trade in horses plus the development of a chariot industry took time. Yet it is fair to state that neither technological development could be permanently blocked. Horses escape, after all: see the ill-fated history of the Spanish in the American South-West. Likewise, weaponry, even if prohibited in trade, can be gotten elsewhere. The southwest Indians, for example, managed to secure guns from the trappers and traders in the north even though the Spanish prevented their pistols from being given to those foes. One can assume that there was a slow emergence of chariot-based warfare, one that can see seen to be in full use on the fragmentary reliefs of Ahmose at Abydos recently discovered by Stephen Harvey. It may have been that the equids as well as their vehicles were use sparingly at first. This would imply a slow and cautious use of the now “home grown” horses and the establishment of chariot manufacturing centers in the south during the XVIIth Dynasty. But the evidence from the biography of Ahmose son of Ebana reveals that an administrative switch in the Egyptian army had already taken place right at the beginning of Dynasty XVIII; namely, the rise of chariot-based warfare. This would have been delayed somewhat owing to the lag in technological advance, but I feel was inexorable. Related problems concerning the upkeep of horses, chariots, and other war materiel no doubt led to the expansion of a war industry at Memphis after its conquest by the Thebans. Subsequently Avaris (Tell ed-Daba) in the Western Delta and even cities as Gaza in Palestine became the major military centers. Of course, the Egyptians insured that they pillaged the war supplies of Palestine and Syria during their campaigns, and horses were included as well. Nevertheless, they soon experimented with a new breed of horse by mid Dynasty XVIII while furthering the use of heavier chariots, the new six-spoked ones. Yet there is a cessation of new developments by the Amarna Period at the



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end of Dynasty XVIII. The Egyptians never used heavier chariots with more spokes; neither did their Hurrian or Hittite opponents even if latter employed war vehicles with three men, as we have seen in Part I of this study. Moreover, despite the employ of northern mercenaries such as the Sherden (often called “conscript soldiers”), all of whom used round shields and different swords, the core of the Egyptian army remained on the same technological level as it did during the heyday of Amunhotep II and Thutmose IV. True, the sickle-shaped sword had come into use earlier, a weapon that iconically replaced the ancient mace in smiting scenes of the pharaoh. They, too, were an import from Asia, but now had long blades unlike their earlier predecessors. But this new sword was not improved further. The key difference between the weapons and war material of the New Kingdom and later times was due to the temporarily arrested development of the new metallurgy (iron) and the introduction of large and more robust horses, which could carry more men in the cab and whose spokes, certainly by Neo-Assyrian times, now amounted to eight. The military equipment of Egypt during the Late Bronze Age had probably reached the pinnacle of development and employment under the economic and technological system of the day. If there is a theme running through this presentation, I believe it must be of the growing importance of the military in Egyptian society. The following truism holds: the greater the violence the greater possibility there is for military expansion. The lack of swift locomotion coupled with a copper age society restricted the Egyptians’ ability to practice even a primitive form of imperialism from the Archaic Age (Dynasties I–II) to the beginning of Dynasty XII, influence abroad notwithstanding. An additional contention in this survey has been the emphasis upon the internecine warfare prevalent throughout the First Intermediate Period as one of the long-range causes for the development of a state army of reasonable size. By the XIth Dynasty the royal flotilla had grown in such importance to allow an effective means of carrying troops southwards and permanently annexing the region of Lower Nubia. Yet even then the lack of horses meant that a far-flung empire upstream was impossible. The logistics of permanent occupation hindered such a policy, even if it were on the agenda of the XIIth Dynasty pharaohs. The situation of population expansion and the necessity of having non-primary producers forming a relatively large army came near the end of the Second Intermediate Period. In this context, it is notable

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that the best estimates of the ancient Egyptian population base have shown it to be the greatest in Dynasty XVIII. In other words, there would have been available a sector the Egyptian population that could not only administer a relatively large war machine but also could serve as infantry. With the horse and chariot the Egyptian New Kingdom was able to traverse the lands of Upper Nubia (again using the Nile as the mans of transportation north and south) and to occupy portions of the Levant. The natural limitations to her extent of dominion once more were circumscribed by technology and logistics, with penetration in depth the real problem. Added to the military expense was the maintenance of the royal navy, which played a key role in Egypt’s maritime affairs in the east Mediterranean. Last, one can refer to the permanent roster of soldiers who occupied Nubia. Were the empire and the necessity of maintaining a standing army, larger than ever before, worth the effort? Although this question can be sidestepped here, it is worthy of some response. The tragic aspects of imperia are that they dilute the cultures of the homeland while simultaneously spreading advanced levels of civilization to peoples, who were usually not regarded very highly by the contemporary occupiers. Unbeknownst to those in power, long range trends automatically develop in the provinces of empire, and foreign influences come to play a growing role in the whole imperium, often at home. Some have argued that empires spread technology, science, belles-letters if not art in general in a rapid fashion, and that they level-out differences among competing cultures, whether for good or evil is another matter. But these pessimistic and optimistic evaluations are better left for subsequent lucubrations.

CATEGORISATION, CLASSIFICATION, AND SOCIAL REALITY: ADMINISTRATIVE CONTROL AND INTERACTION WITH THE POPULATION Katalin Anna Kóthay Crucial to the study of any categorisation and classification is considering what in the social sciences is commonly termed as the ‘gap’ or ‘discrepancy’ between ideology and reality. Categorisation and classification of the people of a society by a central government is situated within an ideology. It, however, does not merely mirror that government’s biased, simplified view of a more complex social world, i.e. a construct of reality, but—like any perception, representation or ordering of society—itself contributes to reality. The process of the construction, as well as the use of the group definitions and designations, forms part of reality and reflects the interface between the government’s bureaucracy and its subjects—even if this reflection is partial—while the categories/classes and distinctions carry values and hence impact norms and social behaviour, which may in turn contribute to the construction of new and deconstruction of old entities. Moreover, genuine differences in local realities in various socio-economic and socioecological settings1 may and indeed often do result in variances in the practicalities and effectiveness of state interference, while categorising and classifying the people under the same central rule entails the development of a more or less consistent scheme or set of schemes which, by simplifying and typifying relationships and identities, conceals but may just as well reveal elements of the complexity and diversity of social organisation. Therefore, the relationship between ideology and categorisation/classification on the one hand, and ‘reality’ on the

  On the issue in Pharaonic Egypt cf., e.g., C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status to the Functioning of Rural Economy in Pharaonic Egypt?”, in: La dépendance rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdE 140, 2004), 157–186; compare also S. Quirke, “The Hyksos in Egypt 1600 BCE: New Rulers without an Administration”, in: Regime Change in the Ancient Near East and Egypt: From Sargon of Agade to Saddam Hussein, H. Crawford, ed. (Oxford: PBA 136, 2007), 127–128, on the main ecological zones of the Middle Kingdom. 1

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other, rather than treated as one of discrepancy, will be viewed here as a conflicting interplay.2 The King as Unique Office-Holder In Egyptian ideology, on the top of all human hierarchies stood the king who, by reason of his border position in the universe, was set apart as a unique socio-cosmic entity: while a human, he took on divine qualities as the son and sole agent of the sun-god, and yet he belonged to neither humans nor the gods, but was member of the community of Egypt’s kings, that is, all legitimate holders of the royal office.3 Kingship is sometimes described in Middle Kingdom texts as an excellent/ efficacious (mnḫt) or good (nfrt) office (ἰ¡t).4 For ἰ¡t was a common term to designate both administrative and temple offices, but also any occupation or trade held by men, an important characteristic of which was its ability to be passed on to heirs,5 these epithets associate the king with the general male role in society. On the other hand, by the 2   For discussing the relationship between ideology and reality in various Pharaonic contexts cf., e.g., J. Baines, “Contextualizing Egyptian Representation of Society and Ethnicity”, in: The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century: The William Foxwell Albright Centennial Conference, J.S. Cooper and G.M. Schwartz, eds (Winona Lake, 1996), 339–384; C.J. Eyre, “Pouvoir central et pouvoirs locaux: problèmes historiographiques et méthodologiques”, in: Égypte pharaonique: déconcentration, cosmopolitisme, B. Menu, ed. (Paris: Méditerranées 24, 2000), 15–39; F. Junge, “Die Rahmenerzählung des Beredten Bauern: Innenansichten einer Gesellschaft”, in: Reading the Eloquent Peasant. Proceedings of the International Conference on the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant at the University of California, Los Angeles, March 27–30, 1997, A.M. Gnirs, ed. (Göttingen: LingAeg 8, 2000), 157–158; S.J. Seidlmayer, “Die Ikonographie des Todes”, in: Social Aspects of Funerary Culture in the Egyptian Old and Middle Kingdoms, H. Willems, ed. (Leuven: OLA 103, 2001), 205–207; or R.B. Parkinson, Poetry and Culture in Middle Kingdom Egypt: A Dark Side to Perfection (London: Athlone Publications in Egyptology and Ancient Near East Studies, 2002), 86–91. 3   For recent studies on ancient Egyptian kingship cf. D. O’Connor and D.P. Silverman (eds), Ancient Egyptian Kingship (Leiden: PÄ 9, 1995); O. Berlev, “Two Kings— Two Suns—on the Worldview of the Ancient Egyptians”, in: Discovering Egypt from the Neva: The Egyptological Legacy of Oleg D. Berlev, S. Quirke, ed. (Berlin, 2003), 19–35; cf. also the volumes published in the series “Königtum, Staat un Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen” from 2004 onwards. 4   E. Blumenthal, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Königtum des Mittleren Reiches I. Die Phraseologie (Berlin: Abhandlungen der Sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig, Philologisch-historische Klasse 61/1, 1970), 27. 5   S. Quirke, “The Regular Titles of the Late Middle Kingdom”, RdE 37 (1986), 108; id., “Horn, Feather and Scale, and Ships: On Titles in the Middle Kingdom”,



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use of the qualifying attributes shifting focus on the distinctiveness of the royal office, the king’s post is distanced from every other human role, while it is also inferred that its hereditary transmission—even though it was usually a practice and a policy—may not have been a norm: “A goodly office is kingship, // it has (i.e. needs—KK) no son, no brother to maintain its memorial”, says the old king to his heir in the Teaching for Merikare.6 The king’s ambivalent nature is not only manifest in the definition of his role as office-holder but also in his participation in the administration. Albeit he was the focus and embodiment of the Egyptian administration, the relevant sources of the period imply that he was absent from its practical hierarchy. According to the Duties of the Vizier,7 the condition of the country is to be reported to the king daily by his two highest officials, the vizier and the treasurer respectively.8 Instead of directly addressing the king, however, it is in fact each other they report to.9 Moreover, with the exception of this ritual event, the vizier is not portrayed as being in interaction with the king: throughout the Duties, he is described as representing the ‘royal domain’ (pr nsw), an institution encompassing both the ‘private’ and ‘official/public’ spheres

in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson, 2 vols, P. der Manuelian, ed. (Boston, 2004), vol. I, 671–672. 6   E 116: J. Quack, Studien zu Lehre für Merikare (Wiesbaden: GOF IV/23, 1992), 70–71, 191; translation by M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Reading Book, vol. I. The Old and Middle Kingdoms (Berkeley, 1975), 105. 7   Earlier this text was thought to have been a Middle Kingdom composition, but was later dated to the early New Kingdom by G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier: Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom (London and New York: Studies in Egyptology, 1988), 334–376. However S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC (London: GHP Egyptology 1, 2004), 18, and 23–24, has recently argued, convincingly in my view, that—in view that a number of the titles and institutions attested in the Duties find parallels only in late Middle Kingdom practical administration—the composition was plausibly based on a Middle Kingdom original. Cf. also his recent, more cautiously expressed view in “Four Titles: What is the Difference?”, in: Archaism and Innovation: Studies in the Culture of Middle Kingdom Egypt, D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson and J. Wegner, eds (New Haven and Philadelphia, 2009), 310–311. See also N. Shupak, “A New Source for the Study of the Judiciary and Law of Ancient Egypt: ‘The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant’ ”, JNES 51 (1992), 3 with n. 8. 8   R5–R8: G. van den Boorn, Duties, 54–76. 9   The suggestion of G. van den Boorn, Duties, 56 and 73, that the vizier personally and directly informs the king does not find support in the passage. Rather, it seems that the vizier greets the king in whose presence the two officials report to each other.

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of kingship,10 not exclusively the king himself.11 Although in this text the vizier’s agency is presented in a biased context, what is described probably also reflects practical reality. The king, while evidently took counsel with his top officials and associates, and took part in decision making concerning strategic issues (obviously also to the extent of his personal strength, and not as the absolute decision-maker as he is ideally represented in texts labelled as Königsnovellen),12 he need not have been incorporated into the administrative machinery—as he was also absent from the everyday practice of law, dispensing justice for instance.13 His actual interference in the day-to-day affairs of the country appears to have been symbolic and restricted to ceremonial roles: enactment of rituals and solemn appearances.14 Indeed, rare references to the king in the administrative sources of the late Middle Kingdom hint at his ritual not his administrative importance, and bear out that he was treated distinctly from both his immediate officials and own family15—perhaps not only on the ideological plane, but also for the practical reasons of ritual purity. At the same time, the king was member of one of the powerful elite16 families, and his socio-cultural milieu was probably barely different 10   W. Helck, “Die Stele des Śt¡w aus Wadi es-Sebua”, SAK 3 (1975), 93–96; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 11–12. 11   A distance between king and vizier was suggested by S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom: The Hieratic documents (New Malden, 1990), 58–59. 12   A. Loprieno, “The King’s Novel”, in: Ancient Egyptian Literature: History and Forms, A. Loprieno, ed. (Leiden: PÄ 10, 1996), 277–295. 13   A.M. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption: On Rich and Poor in the Eloquent Peasant”, in: Reading the Eloquent Peasant, 130–131. 14   Cf. also S. Quirke, “Four Titles”, 314. 15   S. Quirke, Administration, 120–121; id., “Visible and Invisible: The King in the Administrative Papyri of the Late Middle Kingdom”, in: Das frühe ägyptische Königtum. Akten des 2. Symposiums zur ägyptischen Königsideologie in Wien 24.–26. 9. 1997, R. Gundlach and W. Seipel, eds (Wiesbaden: ÄA 36/2, 1999), 65–70. 16   The word ‘elite’ as a sociological term has been most recently avoided by W. Grajetzki, “Class and Society: Position and Possessions”, in: Egyptian Archaeology, W. Wendrich, ed. (Chichester: Blackwell Studies in Global Archaeology, 2010), 181. Though his argumentation to do so might seem reasonable from a certain point of view, I would not refrain from this term. Contrary to the use of a number of vastly ambiguous and contested terms denoting social categories, there has been a relative consensus on the meaning of ‘elite’ in Egyptology, that is, it is used in its sociological sense not in the sense ‘the best’ (cf., e.g., D. Franke, “Kleiner Mann (nḏs)—was bist Du?”, GM 167 (1998), 38 n. 17). As for the ambivalence of the term in Egyptology, i.e. that certain Egyptologists may regard the ancient Egyptian elite in fact as ‘the best’ of Egyptian society (and may regard themselves as their modern intellectual ‘descendants’), it is a historiographical issue which should be considered but, I think, should not have an impact on Egyptological scholarly terminology. Shifting away from the



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to theirs. This is recurrently attested in late First Intermediate Period17 and Middle Kingdom textual data. Middle Kingdom wisdom literature implies that, at least to a certain extent, he was expected to follow the same normative principles18 and to master the same skills as the elite.19 Evidence also asserts that children of important non-royal families were raised and educated in direct proximity to the king and the royal family.20 This strategy seems to have been part of a conscious royal policy aimed at creating community between elite and king, so assuring the loyalty and aptitude of continuing generations of the highest royal representatives keeping the administrative machinery in operation.21 After the reign of Amenemhat III references to education in the royal court disappear from the sources. Nonetheless, during the Thirteenth Dynasty the relationship between the royal and some elite families—and so between the ‘dynasty’ and the highest officialdom—seems to have become even closer,22 albeit in a changed political environment in which several short reigns and the lack of a single ruling line may, as has been suggested by S. Quirke, imply a circulation of royal

use of an ample term on such grounds would result in a counter-consequence: its stigmatisation and consequently the futile and unjust discrediting of those who have used and use it in its technical sense, while those for whom the term has so far also served to positively discriminate the Egyptian elite would continue on with their prejudice, no matter what the new term would be. 17   Because from many perspectives there does not seem to have been considerable differences between the ideals and values of the late First Intermediate Period and those of the early Middle Kingdom, late First Intermediate Period sources are also taken into account throughout this study, if they prove to be relevant to the discussed subject matter. 18   J. Baines, “Kingship, Definition of Culture, and Legitimation”, in: Ancient Egyptian Kingship, 21. 19   Merikare E 32–36: J. Quack, Merikare, 24–25, 169–170; Neferti IIo-q: W. Helck, Die Prophezeiung des Nfr.tj (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 1970), 12–13. 20   E. Blumenthal, Untersuchungen zum ägyptischen Königtum, 286–290; D.M. Doxey, Egyptian Non-Royal Epithets in the Middle Kingdom: A Social and Historical Analysis (Leiden: PÄ 12, 1998), 113–123. 21   D. Franke, “The Career of Khnumhotep III of Beni Hasan and the So-called ‘Decline of the Nomarchs’ ”, in: Middle Kingdom Studies, S. Quirke, ed. (New Malden, 1991), 55. On royal promotion in general during the Middle Kingdom, not only with respect to the highest elite, cf. P. Vernus, “Quelques examples du type du ‘parvenu’ dans l’Égypte ancienne”, BSFE 59 (1970), 33–35; id., “Sur une particularité de l’onomastique du Moyen Empire”, RdE 22 (1970), 166–167. 22   On the royal family and its changing ties to non-royal families during the Middle Kingdom cf. W. Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt: History, Archaeology and Society (London: Duckworth Egyptology, 2006), 161–163.

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succession among a few powerful oligarchies.23 If so, this new type of co-operation between otherwise competing24 groups might well have contributed to maintain the smooth running of the administration inherited from the preceding Twelfth Dynasty. Normative Distinctions and Their Validity Set against the king was the group of humans. One vital element of the elite perception and display of human society (without the king) was the universal divide between the dominant and the dominated groups—a concept basic to all societies and cultures—which is markedly apparent throughout Pharaonic sources: written, visual and archaeological. A textual manifestation of this view25 was a number of opposing couplets referring to constructed or concrete social categories, or to certain emblematic qualities attributed to them. In the terminology of late First Intermediate Period and Middle Kingdom monumental, literary and religious sources, apart from the general divide between pʿt (‘elite’) and rḫyt (‘subjects’),26 distinction is suggested, for instance, between srw (‘officials’) and rḫ yt,27 srw and rmṯ

  S. Quirke, Administration, 216; more elaborately, id., “Royal Power in the 13th Dynasty”, in: Middle Kingdom Studies, 137–139. 24   The scenario outlined here for the entire Middle Kingdom, while putting emphasis on co-operation within the elite, does not disregard the possibility and reality of competitions, as it is possibly attested, for instance, by the Teaching of Amenemhat I, cf. W. Helck, Der Text der “Lehre Amenemhets I. für seinen Sohn” (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 1969). However, the running and maintenance of an effective administration, which seems to have been a common, if ideal, goal of the ruling elite (an elite with the historical vision of a stable Old Kingdom against a fragmented First Intermediate Period), must have been based on some consensus. 25   For this dual classification with regard to the Middle Kingdom see, e.g., B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (London and New York, 1989), 157; S. Quirke, “ ‘Townsmen’ in the Middle Kingdom”, ZÄS 118 (1991), 147, referring to O. Berlev; R.B. Parkinson, “Individual and Society in Middle Kingdom Literature”, in: Ancient Egyptian Literature, 137; or F. Junge, “Rahmenerzählung”, 166, 169–170. 26   A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica (Oxford, 1947), vol. I, 98–110; W. Helck, “Die soziale Schichtung des ägyptischen Volkes im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr.”, JESHO 2 (1959), 5–14; O.J. Pavlova, “Rḫ yt in the Pyramid Texts: Theological Idea or Political Reality”; in: Literatur und Politik im pharaonischen und ptolemäischen Ägypten, J. Assmann and E. Blumenthal, eds (Cairo: BdE 127, 1999), 91–108; D. Doxey, Non-Royal Epithets, 27, 193–196. 27   Cf. the epithet ‘official at the forefront of the commoners’ (sr m-ḥ¡t rḫyt): D. Doxey, Non-Royal Epithets, 193–194. 23



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(‘people’),28 wrw (‘great’) and rmṯ,29 wrw and šrrw (‘small’),30 wrw/srw and nḏsw (‘small’/‘commoners’),31 wrw and šw¡w (‘poor’),32 wrw and ḥwrw (‘wretch’),33 or ḥnwt (‘mistress’) and ḥmt (‘servantwoman’).34 Though this enumeration is but a selection, it provides ample and representative data sufficient to draw some basic conclusions relevant for the present study. The dominant were typically, albeit not exclusively, set apart as srw, officials, i.e. representatives of the central government,35 a distinction reminiscent of the antagonistic interface between the government’s bureaucracy and its agents on the one hand, and the rest of society on the other, so harshly depicted in The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant.36 Yet when seen in a larger context, instead of articulating a universal difference between two basic groups, the terminology hints at social distance and dependence in various contexts. The dominant society was set against not only to the dominated society as a whole, but also to narrower groups, such as the nḏsw or the ḥwrw. Rather than seen as a sociologically distinct entity, the nḏsw should be defined as a vague, heterogeneous category of people ranked below the titled, literate officials; they often performed military roles, could hold titles, and may have had restricted access to some privileges.37 The even more

  Merikare E 38: J. Quack, Merikare, 26–27, 170.   Admonitions 2, 5: W. Helck, Die “Admonitions”. Pap. Leiden I 344 recto (Wiesbaden: KÄT 11, 1995), 6. 30   D. Doxey, Non-Royal Epithets, 161, 189; Admonitions 4, 2: W. Helck, Die “Admonitions”, 12. 31   Coffin CG 28117, ll. 37–38: D. Franke “Fürsorge und Patronat in der Ersten Zwischenzeit und im Mittleren Reich”, SAK 34 (2006), 173 n. 56, with literature. Compare also Siut I, ll. 280 and 310: P. Montet, “Les tombeaux de Siout et de Deir Rifeh”, Kêmi 3 (1930–1935), 57 and 65; and Merikare E 101: J. Quack, Merikare, 60–61, 187. 32   Merikare E 42–44: J. Quack, Merikare, 30–31, 171–172. 33   Neferti XIIe: W. Helck, Nfr.tj, 470 (for translation see M. Lichtheim, Literature, vol. I, 143); CT VII, 463d [Spell 1130]. 34   R. Parkinson, Poetry and Culture, 95. 35   Although the meaning of wrw, another term referring to the elite, is less easy to define, it seems that at least in some instances they were also linked to the central administration; cf. D. Doxey, Non-Royal Epithets, 159–161, who proposes that the srw and the wrw differed in rank. However, the two terms often seem to be overlapping. Cf. also S. Allam, “Social and Legal Apects Regarding the Trader from the Oasis”, in: Reading the Eloquent Peasant, 86–89, for a contrary view, i.e. that the srw were not necessarily state officials. 36   A. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption”. 37   O.D. Berlev, Общественные отношения в Египте эпохи Среднего царства (Moscow, 1978), 73–125; J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Liège: Aegyptiaca Leodiensia 4, 1997), 32–39; D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 33–48. 28 29

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blurred term ḥwrw referred to individuals of very low social status, who were amongst the least esteemed by the elite, and often characterised by poverty and vulgarity.38 While the nḏsw and the ḥwrw were apparently conceived as two different entities by the Egyptians,39 the distinction between them should be regarded as being abstract, not directly bearing upon Middle Kingdom social organisation. It is not only that these designations formed part of a biased, elite discourse, but the term nḏsw, which was typically used during the First Intermediate Period and the early Middle Kingdom, may only with great caution be taken into consideration when discussing the society of the entire Middle Kingdom.40 Nonetheless, the implication of this example is one of a more complex though still very limited vision of society, which, in addition to contrasting the dominant and the dominated, also distinguished within the latter group. Hence dualism can be seen as a device to construct and represent social differences, while the social view of the Middle Kingdom elite should not be ultimately described as dualist. The underlying principle of the categorisation and classification of the population by the administration for its own goals rests on a similar pattern, and involves, yet again, a set of dualisms that all together points to a somewhat greater complexity. From this perspective, the universal divide running between the dominant and the dominated occurs as a more specific abstraction of difference between the literate, privileged representatives of the central administration and the producers. The focus is on the normative character of the distinction, that is, on setting a moral boundary between those who hold control of the natural, economic and human resources of the country, and administer,41 and those who are subject to produce (b¡k) and liable to taxes and conscription.42

38   On Middle Kingdom terms labelling the lowest social strata cf. O. Berlev, Общественные отношения, 63–73, with discussion of the ḥwrw on pp. 64–66. 39   Compare D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 46; and id., SAK 34 (2006), 173–174. 40   D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 40–42. 41   A best illustration of this concept is found in Merikare E 86 (J. Quack, Meri­ kare, 48–49, 50, 182): the srw are said to be provided (nḥb) with taxes (b¡kw) and acquainted with every kind of fixed dues (ḥtrw). 42   C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status”, 180; K.A. Kóthay, “La notion de travail au Moyen Empire. Implication sociale”, in: L’organisation du travail en Égypte ancienne et en Mésopotamie, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdE 151, 2010), 160–164, 166.



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The operation of the administration, of course, was more complex than that. Besides that a certain categorisation and ranking system among officials prevailed,43 bureaucracy involved two main categories of professionals: officials and scribes, with different social backgrounds, whose attitudes towards people liable to taxes and conscription, though based on more or less common normative standards, manifested in different ways. Officials saw and represented themselves as royal tax collectors and in command of large conscripted troops,44 while the fiscal status of the scribe, that is, his exemption from productive and hence taxable work, was compared and contrasted to that of the taxpayer-producer.45 The different emphases—on authority and control in the first case, and on the articulation of difference in the second— indicate different social vantage points: distinction by comparison is usually more significant where the social distance is smaller. Further, the administrative hierarchy included not only officials and scribes. On the local level the state acted through local leaders. In the Duties of 43   On a possible rough categorisation within the elite during the Old Kingdom, distinguishing between srw (‘nobility’ of office), sʿḥw (‘nobility’ of birth), and b¡kw (‘new nobility’ of service), see C.J. Eyre, “Weni’s Carrier and Old Kingdom Historiography”, in: The Unbroken Reed: Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt In Honour of A.F. Shore, C. Eyre, A. Leahy and L.M. Leahy, eds, (London: EES OP 11, 1994), 114; compare also T. Hofmann, Zur sozialen Bedeutung zweier Begriffe für “Diener” b¡k und ḥm. Untersucht an Quellen vom Alten Reich bis zur Ramessidenzeit (Basel: Aegyptiaca Helvetica 18, 2005), 171–176, and 255–256. Although some of these terms occur in similar context during the early Middle Kingdom (Urk VII, 28, 14–19; 30, 5–18), the organisation of the Middle Kingdom elite was clearly different to that of their Old Kingdom predecessors. On the basis of studying non-royal epithets, a different scheme has been outlined by D. Doxey, Non-Royal Epithets, 27, 156–166, 226–228, proposing the existence of a number of levels/classes of literate officials during this period. Her scheme includes srw (‘officials’), wrw (‘great ones’), sʿḥw (‘nobles’), smrw (‘friends’), šnwt (‘entourage’), and qnbt (‘court’). But cf. S. Quirke, Administration, 53, on the imprecision of Egyptian texts in using terms referring to officials. It is ranking titles that may imply a certain hierarchy and differentiation (e.g., between officials acting on central and local levels) within the officialdom, while the picture is not wholly uniform for the entire Middle Kingdom, see W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der Ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches. Prosopographie, Titel und Titelreihen (Berlin: Achet Schriften zur Ägyptologie 2, 2000), 221–231; id., The Middle Kingdom, 158–160; cf. also S. Quirke, Administration, 51–117, on the complex and flexible organisation of officials within the Theban royal palace during the late Middle Kingdom. Consider also that some blurring could also exist, e.g. between courtiers and administrative officials, cf. K. Spence, “Court and Palace in Ancient Egypt: The Amarna Period and Later Eighteenth Dynasty”, in: The Court and Court Society in Ancient Monarchies, A.J.S. Spawforth, ed. (Cambridge, 2007), 283. 44   Cf., e.g., the much-quoted self-praise of the nomarch Ameny: Urk VII, 15, 4, 10, 14–21. 45   W. Helck, Die Lehre des Dw¡-H̱ tjj (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 1970).

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the Vizier, they are called ḥ¡tyw-ʿ and ḥq¡w-ḥwt, ‘mayors’ and ‘rulers of settlements’.46 While some of them may have belonged to the literate officialdom, many of them—most likely recognised local headmen serving as intermediaries between the administration and their local communities—did not.47 This picture is relevant for the New Kingdom, but it is not clear to what extent it can be considered valid for the Middle Kingdom. The impression that towns with rural hinterlands were the basic territorial-administrative units seems realistic for the period,48 and this universal scene is matched by the well-documented fact that towns, but also smaller settlements, conferred cohesion and identity to their inhabitants.49 Yet the title ḥq¡-ḥwt is only scarcely attested in the Middle Kingdom, while mayors occur as administrative officials of larger urban centres.50 How smaller settlements51 were administered cannot be ascertained, but the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant may suggest that at least some of their chiefs were indeed designated by the title ḥq¡-ḥwt.52 They probably held responsibility for tax collection and conscription, but need not have been officials;53 many 46   R11, R21, R25, R32: G. van den Boorn, Duties, 88–89, 202–204, 234–249, 286–287. 47   On local leaders, see C. Eyre, “The Village Economy in Pharaonic Egypt”, in: Agriculture in Egypt: From Pharaonic to Modern Times, A.K. Bowman and E. Rogan, eds (Oxford: PBA 96, 1999), 39–44. 48   Cf., e.g., W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (Leiden and Köln: PÄ 3, 1958), 208–220; D. O’Connor, “The Geography of Settlement in Ancient Egypt”, in: Man, Settlement and Urbansim, P.J. Ucko, R. Tringham and G.W. Dimbleby, eds (London, 1972), 688; S. Quirke, “The Egyptological Study of Placenames”, DE 21 (1991), 69–70; D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib auf Elephantine. Geschichte eines Provinzheiligtums im Mittleren Reich (Heidelberg: SAGA 9, 1994), 11; id., “The Career of Khnumhotep III”, 53. 49   C. Eyre, “Village Economy”, 36 and 38–39; S. Quirke, Egyptian Literature 1800 BC: Questions and Readings (London: GHP Egyptology 2, 2004), 40. 50   S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 111–112. 51   On settlement patterns and classification during the Pharaonic period see D. O’Connor, “The Geography of Settlement”, 681–698; and M. Bietak, “Urban Archaeology and the ‘Town’ Problem in Ancient Egypt”, in: Egyptology and the Social Sciences: Five Studies, K.R. Weeks, ed. (Cairo, 1979), 97–144. 52   B1 117–118 and 220–221: R.B. Parkinson, The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant (Oxford, 1991), 21 and 31. Cf. also F. Junge, “Rahmenerzählung”, 178. 53   Compare the Eleventh Dynasty stela CG 20543, which suggests that the ḥq¡w-ḥwt were opposed to officials (srw); for this interpretation see H.G. Fischer, “The Inscription of ’In-ἰt.f, Born of ’Ifἰ ”, JNES 19 (1960), 266 n. 8. On the other hand, some individuals belonging to the First Intermediate Period Harageh elite identified themselves in their tombs as ḥq¡-ḥwt and bore titles that (if not used deliberately) may point to their being local officials of the central administration, cf. W. Grajetzki, “Die Nekropole von el-Harageh in der 1. Zwischenzeit”, SAK 29 (2001), 55–60; and id., Harageh, an Egyptian Burial Ground for the Rich, around 1800 BC (London, 2004), 12–17.



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of them were apparently producers themselves and liable to taxes and conscription—unless their communities were protected by the king. Such protections existed as early as the Old Kingdom,54 and are attested during the early Middle Kingdom, too.55 This practice implies a subdivision of the homogeneously perceived mass of producers into two conceptual categories: those who enjoyed protection from taxes and/or other obligations and those who did not. It is perhaps not without significance that a valid, though not exclusive, difference between the above discussed nḏsw and ḥwrw seems to be of fiscal nature. The former may but need not have been granted protections;56 the latter appear to be a typical group liable to conscription for state labour in late Middle Kingdom texts. In the Admonitions, the ḥwrw are portrayed as tearing written regulations (hpw) of the ḫnrt-enclosures as well as having abnormal free access to the ḫnrt wr, ‘Main Enclosure’.57 These associated late Middle Kingdom bureaucratic institutions seem to have been responsible for controlling the population liable to compulsory state labour.58 The negative image of the ḥwrw in this context implies that, from the perspective of the elite, their ideal state was one in which they were under bureaucratic control and outside the scope of any privileges assured by written documents, including exemption from compulsory state labour.59 Certainly, it does not follow from this

54   H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (Wiesbaden: ÄA 14, 1967). 55   The annals of Amenemhat II, M 8: H. Altenmüller and A.M. Moussa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. Aus dem Ptah-Tempel von Memphis. Ein Vorbericht.”, SAK 18 (1991), 7, and Falttafel l. x+8; and the building inscription of Senwosret I in the Satet temple at Elephantine, second inscription, ll. 4–5: W. Helck, “Die Weihinschrift Sesostris’ I. am Satet-Tempel von Elephantine” MDAIK 34 (1978), 74. Cf. also K. Kóthay, “La notion de travail”, 167–168. 56   Merikare E 101 (J. Quack, Merikare, 60–61, 187) refers to nḏsw exempt from taxes (b¡kw). On the other hand, the nḏsw could be liable to special taxes, too (which again may be indicative of their particular fiscal status), as it is implied in the contracts of Djefaihapi, Siut I, ll. 279–280, and 309: P. Montet, KÊMI 3 (1930–1935), 56, 65; on the passage see A. Spalinger, “A Redistributive Pattern of Assiut”, JAOS 105 (1985), 10–11. 57   P. Leiden I 344 VI, 9–12: W. Helck, Die “Admonitions”, 29. 58   S. Quirke, “State and Labour in the Middle Kingdom: A Reconsideration of the term ḫnrt”, RdE 39 (1988), 83–106, with references to the relevant passages from the Admonitions on pp. 94–95 and 97. 59   Cf. also P. Cairo JE 71583 (former P. Berlin 10022), l. x+36, attesting an individual enlisted for compulsory work, who belongs to the category of ḥwrw (p¡ ḥsb nty n ḥwrw): U. Luft, Urkunden zur Chronologie der späten 12. Dynastie: Briefe aus Illahun (Vienna: Contributions to the Chronology of the Eastern Mediterranean 7, 2006), 119–128, 166–167.

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that either of the two terms would have been a technical expression denoting a specific category of taxpayers. Once again, the implication is abstract: the impression is one of two conceptual groups outside the elite. What might seem closest to a term referring to fiscal status— although no such term in the strict technical sense existed—is the word wʿb (‘pure’/‘free’), which was contrasted to the term b¡k, ‘to perform productive, taxable work’.60 ‘Pure’ ritually and ‘free’ from certain state obligations, the wʿbw were drawn from local communities to perform cult service, but did not enjoy full exemption.61 During the Middle Kingdom the social status of those bearing the title ranged from that of a high official to that of a common member of temple staff. Evidently, the protection that could be enjoyed as a wʿb was without relevance for a high-ranking holder of the title, as was perhaps the title itself of no vital importance to him (disregarding the income, albeit very small, he drew from it). For instance, the nomarch Djefaihapi, who never in his titulary uses this title, considers it important to selfidentify as a wʿb when he wants to stress that he belongs to the community of the temple priesthood with whom he contracts to maintain his statue cult.62 Rather than to define his own position, this statement was clearly intended for the priesthood: Djefaihapi emphasises that the apparently lower ranking wʿbw of the temple were his associates. Conversely, being a wʿb clearly meant real fiscal advantage to those by whom no other privileges could be claimed. Late Middle Kingdom funerary and votive monuments attest individuals self-presented or presented as wʿbw without indicating their regular occupations, which were thus obviously ranked lower on their scale of values than their function as a wʿb. On a few other monuments, groups of wʿbw having no family relationship to each other occur together, while a few other individuals—clearly wʿbw themselves—are commemorated on the same monuments by their specific temple functions (e.g. lector priest). These monuments have been interpreted as possible early attestations

60   ‘There is no land that would be free (wʿb) from performing work (b¡k) to him (i.e. the king)’, so runs the isncription on a jar of Apophis: W. Helck, Historischbiographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden: KÄT 6,2, 1995), 2 (no 4). 61   D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 33–37. 62   Siut I, l. 288: P. Montet, Kêmi 3 (1930–1935), 59.



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of religious associations.63 Because in later periods religious associations had their own regulations, moral codes and jurisdictions,64 the evidence for which in these early cases is lacking, the proposal is highly challengeable. But the very existence of these monuments, as well as Djefaihapi’s self-identification as a wʿb, perhaps is to be seen as an indication that the wʿbw of the same cult/temple (whether identified as such or by a title which had a highest value) may have at least had a sense of group identity. Apart from their appartenance to the same institution, the points around which such communities defined themselves cannot be grasped. Holding the title by right of inheritance may have been a significant issue. Had it not been so, Djefaihapi would have simply stated that he was a wʿb himself. Instead, he stressed that he was the son of a wʿb like each of his contractual partners.65 If this evidence can be interpreted as a hint at a process of collective identity construction, then, this process can be seen as a corollary of drawing a part of the local population—probably of various backgrounds but most likely originating from the peasantry—into cult service that provided extra income and privileges to them. While this presumed identity construction manifested in monuments only during the late Middle Kingdom, Djefaihapi’s case may indicate that the process may have started as early as the early Middle Kingdom. But it is not only temple staff that was protected. People performing military service for the king (also called wʿbw) could also be freed.66 Craftsmen working on royal commissions also had the possibility to avoid compulsory work, though only their occasional exemption is documented.67 Interim categories may have also existed: in the Teaching for Merikare68 wʿbw of the Delta, who are allotted land parcels (possibly newly brought into cultivation) by the king, are stated to be taxed collectively as one crew (ṯzt). The term ṯzt—the typical word for a workers’ gang performing compulsory labour—compares them to conscripted labourers (ḥsbw) of royal projects. Thus their farming

63   J. Leclant and C. Berger, “Des confréries religieuses à Saqqara, à la fin de la XIIe dynastie?”, in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson, vol. II, 499–506. 64   P. Vernus, “Kultgenossenschaft”, in: LÄ III, cols 848–850. 65   Siut I, l. 288: P. Montet, Kêmi 3 (1930–1935), 59. 66   Merikare E 101: J. Quack, Merikare, 60–61, 187; for the interpretation of the passage cf. D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 34. 67   K. Kóthay, “La notion de travail”, 168. 68   Merikare E 86: J. Quack, Merikare, 48–53, 182–183; for the interpretation of the passage cf. D. Franke, GM 167 (1998), 34.

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activity was metaphorically regarded as their ‘compulsory labour’, while in fact they may have been freed from such obligations. In terms of their privileged tax position, and also due to the fact that they were engaged in special royal or temple service—two distinguished forms of human activity, not only on the highest but also on lower levels— these people all had, in a sense, privileged status, which may have led to their distinction within the large conceptual group of taxpayerproducers. But because the conditions of their exemptions and obligations apparently varied, the picture may well have been more complex than a simple division into two basic categories, i.e. those who were protected and those who were not. Regrettably, details and implications are hardly revealed by the data. The scheme outlined here is very loose and, though it may appear to have been typical, need not have been universal: for instance, it is not known whether every temple was granted protection. Nevertheless, one issue seems to be significant: it was probably not individuals but communities (typically inhabitants of settlements) that were assigned to perform such duties.69 Then, a consequence may have been that the practice to bring certain groups of the population into special royal or temple service (whether or not they were granted protection) created differences between villages and communities, rather than affecting the individual social positions of the performers within their local communities. Further, the scheme was crosscut by the subdivision of the performers into work units/ teams, which were designated differently according to their different spheres of activities: cult staff characteristically served in rotating phyles/watches (s¡w),70 soldiers were organised into divisions of troops (ḏ¡mw), craftsmen typically arranged into sections (wʿrwt).71 All these groups, if membership in them was permanent, could also function as informal social institutions for their members, especially in a period when the practice to commemorate relationship between working

69   Cf., e.g., the annals of Amenemhat II, M 8: H. Altenmüller and A.M. Moussa, SAK 18 (1991), 7, and Falttafel l. x+8. 70   Note the remark of S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 120, that while the phylesystem in the early Middle Kingdom might have operated in all main local temples, no secure late Middle Kingdom evidence attests phyles in divine cult temples. If the surviving data are representative, it may suggest that the phyle-system was not universal but restricted to mortuary/kingship temples during the late Middle Kingdom. 71   However, exceptionally, phyles of craftsmen also occur in the records, cf. K.A. Kóthay, “Phyles of Stone-Workers in the Phyle System of the Middle Kingdom”, ZÄS 134 (2007), 149.



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colleagues on funerary and votive monuments was fairly widespread among people belonging to the middle social strata.72 It is unfortunate that evidence is entirely lacking as to how people serving in the royal palaces fit into this scheme. The late Middle Kingdom Papyrus Bulaq 18 attests the serving staff (ʿqyw ʿš¡, ‘ordinary entrants’) of the provisioning quarters (šnʿ) of the Theban royal palace,73 while a relatively great number of lower ranking palace functionaries, typically engaged in food production and preparation, are attested by late Middle Kingdom funerary and votive monuments. There are no indications that, like temple staff, they would have served in a rota, nor is there any clue to their exemption from other duties, or to their origin. However, it may seem reasonable to suppose that, similarly to the general pattern, the inhabitants of certain settlements were assigned to provision the palaces, a task that may have included both production and preparation of food. It cannot absolutely be ruled out that these people, similarly to others who also performed special service for the king, enjoyed some protection, even though the term wʿb was not applied to them. They may have even served on a temporary basis. But this is all guesswork. It is also doubtful whether the device to grant royal protections remained constant or changed over the course of the Middle Kingdom. While the practice was an ancient tradition, well established as early as the Old Kingdom—then perhaps a sign of greater independence of temples—the extension of such protections to a larger segment of the populace, not only to temple staff, may have been an early Middle Kingdom development in association with the reorganisation of the country. Yet no such protections have so far been known from the late Middle Kingdom. Instead, sources from this period seem to attest a new strategy: both the practice to place shabtis in tombs and surviving administrative texts confirm that personal participation in compulsory labour could be avoided by being replaced by family/ household members or (contracted? and) officially recognised substitutes. This strategy, or set of strategies, which may have been both

72   R.J. Leprohon, “The Personnel of the Middle Kingdom Funerary Stelae”, JARCE 15 (1978), 33–38; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Egytpian Middle Kingdom (London, 2009), 125–132. 73   S. Quirke, Administration, 36–50.

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alternative and complementary to enjoying protection,74 could stem from tactics ‘from below’. These may have originally been used to avoid personal participation in local communal works—but perhaps also to share and distribute labour tasks within the household. These strategies may have later been recognised by the administration, probably for its own benefit to enhance the efficiency of recruitment for work by relying on household heads. Just as local leaders acted as agents of the central administration on the local level, household heads might have been intermediaries between the local administration and the family household, the basic social unit for mobilising labour force. The working population, as a contrast to the hierarchies of the elite,75 was envisaged as an undivided mass. Indicative of this are, among other ways of expression, some phrases articulating their infinite number. Epithets such as ‘overseer of people in excess of thousands’ (occurring in the string of epithets of an early Twelfth Dynasty official whose main duties were associated with the administration of taxation)76 or ‘whom his lord promoted before millions’,77 or the relatively common term ʿš¡wt, ‘multitude’, referring to them,78 all link the notion of innumerability with lower class people. Yet this countless, amorphous ‘multitude’ of the ideological domain were in fact ‘counted’ (ḥsb) when enrolled on compulsory state work. The label ḥsbw (‘enlistees’) recurring both in administrative and monumental sources refers to people liable to state labour on building, mining, quarrying, military or agricultural projects, who were considered as workforce not as persons: numbered collectively and only named for practical purposes

74   On the issue of protection and substitution cf. K. Kóthay, “La notion de travail”, 166–170. Contrary to my earlier view, which categorically implies that people either were granted protection or alternatively used a personal strategy to avoid compulsory work, I do not find it impossible (if the practice to protect temple personnel still existed during the late Middle Kingdom) that the two devices were complementary: in the Lahun temple records it is typically members of the temple staff who have substitutes (ἰw¡yt). 75   Cf. n. 43. 76   Stela MMA 12.184, l. 6 (ἰmy-r rmṯ m-ḥ¡w ḫ¡w): W.C. Hayes, The Scepter of Egypt: A Background for the Study of the Egyptian Antiquities in the Metropolitan Museum of Art I. From the Earliest Times to the End of the Middle Kingdom (New York, 1953), 299–300, fig. 195; K. Sethe, Ägyptische Lesestücke zum Gebrauch im Akademischen Unterricht. Texte des Mittleren Reiches (Leipzig, 1959), 79,8. 77   Stelae CG 20538 and CG 20539. 78   For Middle Kingdom attestations of the term cf. R. Hannig, Ägyptisches Wörterbuch II. Mittleres Reich und Zweite Zwischenzeit (Mainz am Rhein: Kulturgeschichte der antiken Welt 112, Hannig Lexica 5, 2006), 570.



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in certain administrative lists.79 Ideologically, counting can be seen as a social ritual inasmuch as it transformed a ‘disorderly’ mass into organised and effective work gangs (ṯzwt). However, contrary still to the hierarchies of the elite, the organised ḥsbw were not hierarchised, which would have delineated individuals into a ranking importance— they still remained a mass. Categories of the working population, from among whom the ḥsbw were recruited, are labelled in the available sources by a number of terms which, however, typically do not indicate a fixed place in the social hierarchy. Nor do they refer to absolute legal status or to a clear legal difference between ‘freedom’ and ‘servitude’.80 Various forms of social dependence and economic ties were expressed by a number of overlapping terms (e.g., ḏt, ‘serf ’,81 b¡k, ‘servant’,82 ḥm, ‘servant’, ḥmw-nsw, ‘servants of he king’,83 or mrt, ‘estate-workers’).84 Some of them could be used at different levels of the social hierarchy. But, repeatedly occurring along with the word ḥsbw, there is also the term mnyw, which is thought to have labelled the agricultural population.85 A Lahun letter, on the other hand, mentions a ḥsbw belonging to the 79   W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner I: The Records of a Building Project in the Reign of Sesostris I (Boston, 1963), 34–35; O.D. Berlev, “Review of W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner I. The Records of a Building Project in the Reign of Sesostris I”, BiOr 22 (1965), 266–268; D. Müller, “Neue Urkunden zur Verwaltung im Mittleren Reich”, Orientalia 36 (1967), 356–357; I. Hafemann, “Zum Problem der staatlichen Arbeitspflicht im Alten Ägypten II. Auswertung der Expeditionsinschriften der Mittleren Reiches”, AFo 12 (1985), 208–211; and lately B. Menu, “Quelques aspects du recrutement des travailleurs dans l’Égypte du deuxième millénaire av. J.-C.”, in: L’organisation du travail, 172–177. 80   B. Menu, “Une approche de la notion de travail dans l’Ancien Empire égyptien”, in Stato Economia Lavoro nel Vicino Oriente antico (Milan, 1988), 103–108; ead., “La question de l’esclavage dans l’Égypte pharaonique”, Droit et Cultures 39 (2000), 59–79; C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status”, 176–180. 81   O.D. Berlev, Трудовое население Египта в эпоху Среднего царства (Moscow, 1972), 172–262; A.M. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption”, 135–137. 82   O. Berlev, Трудовое население, 147–171; T. Hofmann, Zur sozialen Bedeutung zweier Begriffe. 83   O. Berlev, Трудовое население, 7–73; id., Orientalia 22 (1965), 267; id., “A Social Experiment in Nubia during the Years 9–17 of Sesostris I”, in Labor in the Ancient Near East, M.A. Powell ed. (New Haven: AOS 68, 1987), 154–156; T. Hofmann, Zur sozialen Bedeutung zweier Begriffe. 84   O. Berlev, Трудовое население, 96–146; J.C. Moreno García, “La population mrt: une approche du problème de la servitude dans l’Egypte du IIIe millénaire (I)”, JEA 84

K t ®C

”, in: La dépendance (1998), 71–83; S. Allam, “Une classe ouvrière: les merit rurale, 123–155. 85   O. Berlev, BiOr 22 (1965), 266; W. Helck, LÄ II, col. 333; W.K. Simpson, The Reisner Papyri, vol. I, 34–35; S. Quirke, Administration, 169–170.

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ḥwrw,86 perhaps implying that the ḥsbw could be recruited from various groups. While the exact difference between the mnyw and the ḥwrw cannot be determined, it seems as if in administrative context it had been important to indicate the socio-economic belonging of the ḥsbw, though it is not clear on what basis the categories were created. Did the term ḥwrw in this context designate a social group outside the general farming population, i.e. of different economic background and of, possibly, lower social standing than the mnyw? This raises the issue of how the Egyptian administration distinguished between different socio-economic and socio-ecological groups. Most generally, there existed a distinction between urban and non-urban spaces, and within the second category also between arable and non-arable lands, and thus evidently activities.87 Sources indicate that in terms of taxation and conscription—the typical form of local intervention by the central administration—the main units were settlements (plausibly irrelevant of their size, importance and ‘specialisation’),88 and it was through their appointed or recognised leaders that the population was controlled. In essence, the issue was to control but not affect local institutions and organisations.89 As a   Cf. n. 59.   However, the scholarly opinion is not united on the interpretation of the relevant Egyptian terminology. F. Junge, “Rahmenerzählung”, 158–159 and 176–178, argues that the word sḫt was set against ‘city’ and referred to lands yielding all sorts of agricultural goods (lands for ploughing, pasturing, fishing and fowling), while the term sḫty referred to the inhabitants of such lands, i.e. agricultural producers in general— he thus supposes a divide between what in modern terms would be called urban and rural. Alternatively, S. Quirke, Literature, 40–41 (cf. also Titles and Bureaux, 70–71), maintains that the terms sḫt and sḫty—‘(marsh)-margins’ and ‘marshland dweller’ in his translation—designated the non-arable, marginal areas and their inhabitants, and were set in opposition not only to the city but also to š¡, ‘countryside’, in the sense of arable land; he thus suggests that the Egyptians differentiated between three general categories of inhabited space. These three categories were conceived by the Egyptians as separate dualities, i.e. between urban and rural and between settled and unsettled people. On the terms sḫt and sḫty cf. also W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 182–183. 88   The largest urban centres may have been exceptions from this generalisation: they seem to have been divided into two or even more districts (wʿrwt): during the reign of Senwosret I Heliopolis seems to have been consisted of four wʿrwt, cf. F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht II. The Control Notes and Team Marks (New York: PMMA 23, 1990), 23; compare also the remark of S. Quirke, Administration, 4 with n. 8 on p. 10, concerning the late Middle Kingdom. 89   That the central impact on local realities was minimal in Pharaonic Egypt has been repeatedly stressed, cf., e.g., B.G. Trigger, “Inequality and Communication in Early Civilizations”, Anthropologica, New Series 18/1 (1976), 43; several studies of C.J. Eyre, e.g., “Ordre et désordre dans la campagne égyptienne”, in Égypte pharaonique: 86 87



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fragmentary passage from the Teaching to Merikare seems to imply,90 in the early Middle Kingdom—in a time of administrative reorganisation—the administrative ideal and strategy were to make use of local power structures91 by bringing heads of settlements (nἰwt) and clans (wḥyt),92 that is, groups organised on territorial or on territorial and kinship base,93 under royal control, while not challenging their authorities within their own communities. This recalls and—by adding the pouvoir, société, B. Menu, ed. (Paris: Méditerranées 6/7, 1996), 179–193; id., “Peasants and “Modern” Leasing Strategies in Ancient Egypt”, JESHO 40 (1997), 367–390; id., “Pouvoir central et pouvoir locaux”, 15–39; or M. Lehner, “Fractal House of Pharaoh: Ancient Egypt as a Complex Adaptive System, a Trial Formulation”, in: Dynamics in Human and Primate Societies: Agent-Based Modeling of Social and Spatial Processes, T.A. Kohler and G.J. Gumerman, eds (Oxford: Santa Fe Institute studies in the sciences of complexity, 2000), 310–314. 90   E 13–21: J. Quack, Merikare, 16–19, 93, 165. 91   The issue of the inefficiency of ancient Egyptian bureaucracy has recently come to the fore of Egyptological research, cf., e.g., A. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption”; or C. Eyre, “On the Inefficiency of Bureaucracy”, in: Egyptian Archives, P. Piacentini and Ch. Orsenigo, eds (Milan: Quaderni di Acme 111, 2009), 15–30. Though Middle Kingdom bureaucracy evidently does not fit the features of the ideal bureaucratic form (whether conceived in the sense of Max Weber or following more recent definitions), and shows serious deficiencies, there is a complementary way to see the problem: in its own historical setting and for its own goals, it may have been fairly capable and rational. For a relatively small central bureaucracy (consider the limited number of literate people) with the restricted means of long distance communication characteristic of ancient times, the use of local power structures to exercise authority seems to be a sound tool. Even corruption and its tolerance, albeit morally disapproved, may have had a pragmatic justification: to keep the system running on the local level (corruption typically occurs in local context; compare also C.J. Kraemer, Jr, “Bureaucracy and Petty Graft in Ancient Egypt”, The Classical Weekly 20 (1927) no. XXI, 164). If the administration did not have the capacity and will to impact considerably on local institutions and practices, it was but logical for it to support or at least not hinder the existing strategies and social relationships of the local elites and power groups (corruption need not absolutely hinder the functioning of a system, although it clearly could infringe interests). Further, the expansion of bureaucracy in the late Middle Kingdom may attest to its relative flexibility and adaptability, even if this was a reaction to the deficiencies of the system (although the reasons—either bureaucratic or social, or both—behind the changes are not known to us). Perhaps it is in its ability to adapt and change that the relative and maximum effectiveness of Middle Kingdom bureaucracy should be seen; compare S. Quirke, “Titles and Bureaux”, 3–4; and id., “Four Titles”, 314, on the inherent fluid nature of administration in the ancient Nile Valley. In any case, Middle Kingdom administration in its own time was one of the very few capable of functioning over an extended territory for a considerable period of time—even if its ultimate failure was encoded in the system itself. 92   For discussion of the term wḥyt (Großfamilie, Clan), cf. D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen im Mittleren Reich (Hamburg: HÄS 3, 1983), 204–210. 93   Note that the term wḥyt was not only a kinship term but also denoted a habitation place, cf. D. Franke, Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen, 210.

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kinship dimension—extends the above discussed scene of a country controlled by mayors and rulers of settlements. The administration was pragmatic in this. In a peasant society like Pharaonic Egypt it is villages that organise production and control socio-economic relationships, hence they are the key (though not the core, which is the household) economic units. Then, this strategy, which from one angle can be seen as delegation of certain administrative functions to the local level, also reflects the reliance of the administration on existing structures.94 But it would be unrealistic to think that the entire population fit in this model. Evidently, there were also people outside the network of the recognised territorial and kinship systems, whose own organisation, as a corollary of their economic and/or ecological circumstances, could be rather erratic and challenging to control. That the elite, schematic and biased as they were, were conscious of this problem and claimed control over such people too, may be suggested by one of the above discussed passages from the Duties, in which the reference to the mayors and rulers of settlements is followed by the expression ‘every people’ (tw¡w nb or z nb as variant),95 perhaps an emblematic allusion to those outside the control of recognised local leaders. While it would be in vain to seek to identify concrete groups belonging to this merely conceptual, and not technical, category in the Duties (probably not even the ancient Egyptian authors/compilers had concrete groups in their minds), it is not meaningless to search for those social segments of the Egyptian society over which bureaucratic control may have been difficult to impose. The best candidates are people who led mobile lives or were in marginalised position.96 Itinerant shepherds and herdsmen who grazed their animals and lived on the fringes of settled and cultivated areas97 had a specific relationship with both the administration and the settled population. The herding of animals was as a rule seen and represented as different   C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status”, 106.   R 32: G. van den Boorn, Duties, 286–287. 96   Compare J.C. Moreno García, “La gestion des aires marginales: pḥw, gs, ṯnw, sḫt au IIIe millénaire”, in: Egyptian Culture and Society. Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati, vol. II, A. Woods, A. McFarlane and S. Binder, eds (Cairo; CASAE 38, 2010), 49–69. 97   True nomadic pastoralism was not characteristic. Possible exceptions, though, may have occurred, e.g., in oases, where the herders may have been bedouins, cf. C.A. Yokell, Modelling Socioeconomic Evaluation and Continuity in Ancient Egypt: The Value and Limitations of Zooarcheaological Analyses (Oxford: BAR International Series 1315, 2004), 82. 94 95



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from the activities of the settled populace.98 It is in fact telling that among the occupations described in the Satire of the Trades, all of which presume a settled life and a home to return,99 that of the herdsman does not occur: it apparently belonged to a reality different from the one experienced by the scribe every day. Despite this difference and distance, both textual and visual data suggest regular bureaucratic control over herding: the taxation of herds and flocks was of prime interest for the state,100 but obviously not without conflict. A problem of the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus depicts the herdsman as a potential tax-dodger: he is supposed to bring fewer animals than he is expected to.101 This portrayal should not or not only be taken as a moral, or rather immoral, quality attributed to that occupation (or to the taxpayer generally)—the more so because the herdsman eventually appears to be innocent. The episode can be also looked at as an illustration of the ambivalent nature of relationship between the administration and a segment of the population to which, owing to their life-style, bureaucratic control was rather difficult to apply, while their economic activity was a vital source for the state. But the conflict with herders may have not only been a characteristic problem of the administration; it could also be an economic one. While the written records are silent on the issue of ownership of and rights to grazing lands, isolated evidence hints at the appropriation of pastures: ‘There was no cultivator whom I drove out, // there was no herdsman whom I expelled’, declares the nomarch Ameny in his autobiographical inscription.102 It is not clear whether the goal of such offences was the seizure of communal pasture lands (if there existed) for ‘private’   C. Eyre, “Village Economy”, 42.   Even if some worked, at least part of the time, away from their homes, as, for instance, the reedcutter (bṯy), who is stated to regularly travel to the Delta. The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant shows that itinerant traders—its hero, a marshland-dweller (sḫty), being one of them—could also lead a settled life with wife and children, and be under the control of settlement leaders (R 1.2–1.6 and B1 117–118: R. Parkinson, The Tale, 1 and 21). On itinerant traders represented in tomb scenes, cf. C.J. Eyre, “The Market Women of Pharaonic Egypt”, in: Le commerce en Égypte ancienne, N. Grimal and B. Menu, eds (Cairo: BdE 121, 1998), 175–176. 100   W. Helck, Verwaltung, 171–179; W. Ghoneim, Die ökonomische Bedeutung des Rindes im alten Ägypten (Bonn: Habelts Dissertationsdrucke Reihe Ägyptologie 3, 1977), 242–249; J.C. Moreno García, “J’ai rempli les pâturages de vaches tachetées . . . bétail, économie royale et idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien Empire au Moyen Empire”, RdE 50 (1990), 241–257. 101   Problem no. 67: Sethe, Ägyptische Lesestücke, 62, 10–11. 102   Urk VII, 16, 3–4. 98 99

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grazing, or—as the ecology of the Nile Valley, as well as maybe documentary proof,103 allows to suppose such shift in land use—the appropriated pastures were used for cultivation. In the latter case the passage would attest to land use conflicts between farmers and herders. Yet the relationship between farming and herding was part of a multifaceted socio-economic reality in which the interface between farmers and herders was likely to have varied. The case of Antef, who lived in the early Middle Kingdom, shows that some wealthier herdsmen, who themselves had command over other herdsmen and may have been owners of flocks themselves, could also be engaged in farming and be prominent members of towns or villages. On his stela Antef forms his identity both as a shepherd and as a settlement dweller: being the fifth descendant of a family of shepherds and proud of his occupation, he had ownership of plough lands (ḫbsw), was head of a larger household (pr), and acted as a member of his town/village council.104 Unlike ordinary shepherds moving around with their animals (like apparently those under his command), he may have lived not off the land. The participation of itinerant herdsmen in compulsory work either for the state or on local projects is an ambiguous issue. One might think that such obligations were less menacing to them than to the peasants—not only because their abodes were rather difficult to detect, but also because animals required constant attention. Yet no evidence proves such assumption. Herdsmen are indeed attested among the state labourers working on the building of Senusret I’s pyramid, but they carry out duties requiring their special skill to drive animals.105 Although this isolated example is not enough to confirm it, it does not seem unlikely that herdsmen performed different duties on state projects than peasants, at least in certain cases. Further segments of the populace whose control and surveillance may have caused difficulties to the administration were the poor and rootless.106 Our sources refer to wandering people, especially

103   Heqanakhte Letter II, 32–33, may allude to the cultivation (hoeing) of land (¡ḥt) in pasturage (m smt); for this new interpretation of the passage cf. J.P. Allen, The Heqanakht Papyri (New York: PMMA 27, 2002), 17 and 42. 104   D. Franke, “The Good Shepherd Antef (Stela BM EA 1628)”, JEA 93 (2007), 149–174. 105   F. Arnold, Control Notes, 25. 106   Cf. O. Berlev’s discussion referred to in n. 38; and W. Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom, 143–144. However, Grajetzki’s categorisation of the literary figure of the peasant with this group (defined by him as ‘marginalised’ and ‘not living in organised



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during times of crises, for whom local leaders claimed to have taken responsibility,107 but there cannot be doubt that impoverished, rootless individuals were part of the scene under ‘normal’ circumstances, too. However, ‘normal’ circumstances—defined as periods without wars, local conflicts, endemic and epidemic diseases, famines, ecological catastrophes, economic disasters, etc.—may have never been so common from the perspective of most of the ancient Egyptians. For them, the ‘normal’ in the sense of everyday may well have been shaped by frequent threats,108 including the coercion of the central power,109 and the deprived and rootless, although their number and proportion evidently fluctuated, may have been a real challenge to society in any period.110 Their taxation and conscription was probably as difficult a problem to any ancient administration as it has been to modern bureaucracies. Paupers and beggars, who were outside any social network perceived and recognised by the administration, whether drifting around the country or a region, or staying at one place, might have been seized for both state and local labour if found, but it is hardly possible that they were taxed—many of them were apparently beggars. Because Pharaonic Egypt was a moneyless society, ancient Egyptian beggars probably used strategies different from those of their modern counterparts, at least partly. For instance, they are less likely to structures’) can be contested. The peasant does not belong to the poorest population groups (as Grajetzki himself states) and he lives not outside organised structures: he is a family/household head being under the authority of a village headman, and he is part of a network of social solidarity (he has ḫnmsw, ‘friends/fellows’, who may help him when need arises). He is ‘marginalised’ only in the sense that he is a marshlanddweller, i.e. he lives on the margins of the cultivated Nile Valley. However, alternative views of the peasant’s domicile and socio-economic identification also prevail, cf. D. Devauchelle, “Le Paysan déraciné”, CdE 70 (1995), 34–40; or F. Junge, “Rahmenerzählung”, 158–159 and 176–178. 107   D. Franke, “Arme und Geringe im Alten Reich Altägyptens: ‘Ich gab Speise dem Hungernden, Kleider dem Nackten . . .’ ”, ZÄS 133 (2006), 119–120. 108   J. Kraus, Die Demographie des Alten Ägypten. Eine Phänomenologie anhand altägyptischer Quellen (Göttingen, 2004), 178–213. 109   Compare J. Baines, “Society, Morality, and Religious Practice”, in: Religion in Acient Egypt: Gods, Myths, and Personal Practice, B.E. Shafer, ed. (London, 1991), 130–146; and C. Eyre, “Ordre et désordres”, 179–193. 110   For various views on poverty and the poor cf., e.g., Armut und Wohltätigkeit im Alten Ägypten, V. Hermann and U. Stascheit, eds (Frankfurt am Main, 2002); J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, 70–87; L.D. Morenz, “Hungersnöte in der Ersten Zwischenzeit zwischen Topos und Realität”, DE 42 (1998), 83–97; id., “Versorgung mit Getreide: Historische Entwicklungen und intertextuelle Bezüge zwischen ausgehendem Alten Reich und Erster Zwischen Zeit aus Achmim”, SAK 26 (1998), 81–117; D. Franke, SAK 34 (2006), 159–185; and id., ZÄS 133 (2006), 104–120.

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have accumulated, while a fairly frequent strategy of theirs may have been to find a constant benefactor or benefactors. Under such circumstances the difference between beggars and clients may not always be transparent. This speculation might account for the rather vague modern interpretation of the word tw¡, which is usually understood as ‘poor’ or ‘client’,111 but, since the term derives from a verb signifying ‘to claim’, a translation ‘beggar’ also prevails in Egyptological literature.112 A recent discussion by A. Gnirs of the opposition of the terms mḥnk and tw¡ in the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant might be revealing of the problem. She maintains that, contrary to the mḥnkw who performed concrete services for their lords, the tw¡w-clients (translated by her as supplicants) received sustenance from their patrons merely for their attendance or deference.113 The focus seems to be on the loose, perhaps informal ties of the tw¡w to any lord.114 The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant suggests that, whether seen as beggars or as clients, the social prestige of the tw¡w was very low, and their economic conditions were extremely weak.115 Be that as it may, the word tw¡ occurs in similar contexts as some other terms (ḥwrw, šw¡w, ‘poor’, or m¡rw, ‘miserable’), which are thought to have designated the poorest people, apparently the most despised by the elite. It is not clear to what extent such terms referred to well discernible groups, and whether they really designated (and only designated) that poorest social ‘mass’, of whom some may have subsisted in invisible poverty, some by begging, theft, or both, some could lead a mobile life, some could reside at one place, some may have been solitary, some drawn into gangs, and whose organisation might have been too vague and irrelevant for the administration to comprehend. Given the context in which these terms occur in literary works, it may seem reasonable to suppose that, rather than designating distinct categories, 111   WB V, 248; R. Hannig, Großes Handwörterbuch Ägyptisch-Deutsch (Mainz: Kulturgeschichte der antiken Welt 64, 1995), 919. 112   Cf., e.g., M. Lichtheim, Literature, 143. 113   “The Language of Corruption”, 137–138. However, her comparison of the tw¡w with the Roman clientes seems too far-reaching to me. 114   Compare also O. Berlev, Общественные отношения, 66, concluding that the tw¡w belonged neither to private persons nor to the king, although they may have been dependent; and D. Franke, SAK 34 (2006), 172–176, arguing that the term tw¡, contrary to words referring to poverty (šw¡ or ḥwrw), expressed dependence. 115   The amount of food stated to be given to the tw¡w is extremely meagre, cf. G. Fecht, “Der beredte Bauer: die zweite Klage”, in: Studies Simpson, vol. I, 238; and A. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption”, 151.



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they may have described certain (negative) qualities or behavioural patterns of the lowest social classes, as envisioned by the elite: their reliance on help, moral and cultural inferiority, economic weakness, or social outsiderness. Accordingly, any of these terms may well have served to label the entire group, even in the more specific administrative context: perhaps one example is provided by the above referred Lahun papyrus attesting a ḥsbw-worker belonging to the ḥwrw.116 Boundaries in Knowledge, Space and Time Normative distinctions are also created or manifested through restrictions on knowledge, spatial inclusions and exclusions, and differentiated control of time. While such separations and constraints may seem to be characteristic mostly of the religious domain in ancient Egypt, restricted access to spaces of bureaucracy, as well as to information kept in its bureaus and by its agents, did also exist.117 The above referred passage from the Teaching for Merikare confirms that a basic requirement for an official to perform his duties was his appropriate fiscal knowledge, i.e. he had lists at his disposal,118 while the rest of people, as practice shows, were themselves itemised in lists. In the above referred passage from the Admonitions, the nightmare of unlawful intrusions into bureaus of the administration and of the unwanted exposure of written administrative documents, particularly lists, appears bound up with the theme of the violation of the sacred.119 While the concept itself suggests a dualist distinction between those with and without access to the restricted places and to the knowledge kept therein, the passage in fact outlines three categories of people in terms of their relationships to literacy and written texts, whether religious or administrative: (1) those who have access to them; (2) those who do not, but have the capacity or possibility to use the texts and their contents, or rather to imitate their proper use, if they get hold of them, even if the revealed texts are   Cf. n. 59.   J. Baines, “Restricted Knowledge, Hierarchy, and Decorum: Modern Perceptions and Ancient Institutions”, JARCE 27 (1990), 1–23, especially 17–20 on secular restrictions and hierarchies. 118   Cf. n. 41. 119   P. Leiden I 344 VI, 5–12: W. Helck, Die “Admonitions”, 28–29. Cf. also L.D. Morenz, Beiträge zur Schriftlichkeitskultur im Mittleren Reich und in der 2. Zwischenzeit (Wiesbaden: ÄA 29, 1996), 91–100, for discussion of the passage in the context of sacred literacy. 116 117

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declared ineffective at once (‘Spells are made worthless through being repeated by people’);120 and finally (3) those (the ḥwrw again) who lack both practical knowledge and moral capacity to use these documents: they are not simply illiterate but also unaware of the value of written texts, which they do not aim to use but to destroy (to them written documents, perhaps a symbol of their coercion—tax and conscription lists being a most manifest visible sign of administrative control121— might not only have been useless but an enemy to be defeated). Yet it should not be assumed that the three categories represent three discernible classes. Like with the distinctions discussed so far there are two dualisms at play here: the first sets up a spatial, cultural and moral boundary between the ‘civilised’ dominant and the ‘transgressor’ dominated societies, while the latter’s further division into two groups envisions two behavioural patterns of subjects towards literacy and knowledge: a troublesome attitude which, however, is more or less familiar with and willing to acquire or imitate some elements of the dominant culture, and an entirely hostile, destructive one. The above discussed spatial division of the territory of Egypt into urban, rural, and marginal sectors were influenced by socio-economic and socio-ecological factors: it is a construction but based on existing differences. But power does not only categorise and rank the landscape into social spaces—it also creates its own physical spaces. The creation and organisation of centrally planned and controlled architectural spaces is a representation, one that makes some basic premises of social categorisation/classification visible (while it conceals others); and it is also an important instrument to control and to a certain extent shape society. In Pharaonic Egypt the prime distinction here too remains dualist: the existence of enclosed seats of divine and royal power (palaces122 and temples with incorporated administrative structures),123 of which restricted access was a general feature,

  M. Lichtheim, Literature, 155.   C. Eyre, “Ordre et désordre”, 140. 122   On royal residences and palaces see the relevant papers in: Egyptian Royal Residences. 4th Symposium on Egyptian Royal Ideology, R. Gundlach and H. Taylor, eds (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 4/1; Wiesbaden, 2009); and in: Palace and Temple. 5th Symposium on Egyptian Royal Ideology, R. Gundlach and K. Spence, eds. (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 4/2; Wiesbaden, 2011). 123   B. Kemp et al., “Egypt’s Invisible Walls”, Cambridge Archaeological Journal 14 (2004), 259–288. 120 121



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produced a distinction between an inner and an outer world separated by an ‘approach’—a room or place with a gate, usually called ʿryt/ ʿrryt—a barrier and a place of communication at the same time.124 As a barrier, the ‘approach’ was a tool of separation and distinction; as a place of communication—because communication at the ʿrryt was asymmetric (e.g., the hearing of petitions)—it was an instrument of control. The dualist vision itself is, again, a construction. But the barrier, that is, the restriction, was a living reality to both those who were allowed access and who were not. Because borders, whether physical or conceptual, are perceived as borders from both sides (if not, they are not real borders), it is very much probable that a similar dualist view prevailed amongst those of the outer world: views and constructions of the dominant society, which were in fact experienced by the members of the dominated society, could be, and likely were, reproduced by the latter, with values reversed or with the acceptance of the standards of the dominant culture. On the other hand, restricted though these enclosed seats of power were, their every day functioning mobilised a fairly wide range of people of different social backgrounds (officials; cult, military and menial serving staff; craftsmen, etc.), whose presence within the enclosed and guarded structures brought about further restrictions in access: the inner spatial scheme of both palace and temple was tripartite with distinct sectors for (1) ‘residents’ (recipient of the cult or king, royal family and associates), (2) cult/administrative personnel, and (3) provisioning staff.125 The inner division also reflected the organisation of ritual,126 and involved differentiation in provisioning. Surviving archaeological remains of the late Middle Kingdom temples at South Abydos and at Medamud imply that the spatial separation of the distinct sectors of a temple, whether ‘mortuary/kingship’ or ‘divine cult’ temple, was total: (1) the individual sectors could be accessed through separate entrances in both temples; while (2) in the Abydene temple of Senusret III, the cult building had internal doors which would have served as connections between the different sectors, but were normally

  G.P.F. van den Boorn, “Wdʿ-ryt and Justice at the Gate”, JNES 44 (1985), 1–25.   J. Wegner, The Mortuary Temple of Senwosret III at Abydos (New Haven and Philadelphia: PPYE 8, 2007), 51–54, 205–209; S. Quirke, Administration, 36–101. 126   While this is obvious with temples, it may not be so obvious with palaces. But see S. Quirke, “Four Titles”, 314, suggesting the primacy of ritual, connected to spatiality, in the delineation of authority of officials within the palace sector. 124 125

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probably closed and sealed.127 Contrary to this, in the late Middle Kingdom royal palace in Thebes the Inner Palace (the private quarters of the king) appears to have been directly connected to the Outer Palace (the sector for state affaires) by a structure, the wḫ¡y (‘columned hall’), which served as a place of continuous communication between the two sectors.128 The wḫ¡y, though evidently a boundary itself, was different in its function from the inner doors leading to the cult building of the temple of Senusret III. A temple’s cult building was the residence of the recipient of the cult represented by a statue hidden in a shrine, who had to be continuously served but was accessed only during ritual events. In contrast, the inner palace sector was the residence of the living king who, although both ideologically and in practice was to a certain extent separated from the rest of the people, did interact with his officials: the place of this interaction was the wḫ¡y. But the wḫ¡y also differed from the ʿrryt separating the entire enclosure from the outer world. While restriction and control were the central features of the latter, which was thus a mark of distance, the wḫ¡y was a place of association and collaboration. Spatial separations and distinctions were qualified and graded,129 and, accordingly, patterns of boundaries varied. Then, social differences were not only expressed by the existence of boundaries but also by their patterns. The distribution of spaces of power throughout the landscape is of equal importance as their inner organisation. In addition to palaces and temples, control and division of space are also attested with state-planned enclosures and settlements,130 such as pyramid-construction-towns,131

  J. Wegner, The Mortuary Temple of Senwosret III, 51–54.   S. Quirke, Administration, 40–41; id., Titles and Bureax, 30. 129   Compare also S. Quirke’s schematic layout of the Theban palace (Administration, 41): his sketch implies a certain symmetry between the Inner and Outher Palaces, and an asymmetry between the main palace building (the inner and outer sectors connected by the wḫ¡y) and the provisioning quarters. Note, however, that this sketch is intended to be only hypothetical. 130   On central planning in the Old and Middle Kingdoms see B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (London and New York, 1989), 137–180. 131   M. Lehner and A. Tavares, “Walls, Ways and Stratigraphy: Signs of Social Control in an Urban Footprint at Giza”, in: Cities and Urbanism in Ancient Egypt, M. Bietak, E. Czerny and I. Forstner-Müller, eds (Vienna: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Denkschriften der Gesamtakademie 60, 2010), 171–216. 127 128



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purpose built settlements (like Lahun)132 or border fortresses.133 These, as well as mortuary/kingship temples, were typically situated along the margins of the Nile Valley or outside the traditional borders of Egypt, while palaces with their sectors for administration were evidently located in royal residences and administrative capitals (during the early Middle Kingdom Thebes, during the late Middle Kingdom Itj-tawy and Thebes). Hence centrally planned structures were not integral part of people’s immediate spatial environment; it was divine cult temples and residences of high officials that may have occurred as architectural emblems of state power in their closer physical surroundings. Local high officials operated in the public/official quarters and at the gates of their own residences, which could be seen by the Egyptians as symbols of the central power of which they were representatives. Clearly, the construction of such structures was no part of central building projects, which does not mean, however, that they cannot reflect upon the spatial politics of the state. Though the institutional relationship between state and temple, and the role of central interference in the construction of local temples were ambiguous and apparently varied through both time and space,134 in terms of ideology, building and donating to temples was a major royal task, and the ultimate earthly authority over temples was the king. Thus temples, while evidently expressed local identities, in periods of strong central power could also act as common architectural symbols of royal (not only divine) power throughout the land, and in certain cases they may have dominated the landscape also with their size.135 However, the living experience may well have differed in larger urban centres with residences of high officials and/or temples, and in other settlements

132   Most recently R.A. Frey and J.E. Knudstad, “The Re-examination of Selected Architectural Remains at El-Lahun”, JSSEA 34 (2007), 23–65; and F. Doyen, “La résidence d’élite: un type de structure dans l’organisation spatiale urbaine de Moyen Empire”, in: Cities and Urbanism, 81–101. 133   P.C. Smither, “The Semnah Despatches”, JEA 31 (1945), 3–10; C. Vogel, “Storming the Gates? Entrance Protection in the Military Architecture of Middle Kingdom Nubia”, in: Cities and Urbanism, 299–320. 134   S. Quirke, “Administration”, in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, vol. I, 15; R. Gundlach, “Temples”, in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, vol. III, 373–374; C.J. Eyre, “Who Built the Great Temples of Egypt?”, in: L’organisation du travail, 117–138. 135   On the existence of divine cult temples built in stone, perhaps occasionally of monumental size, during the Old and Middle Kingdoms see D. Arnold, “Hypostyle Halls of the Old and Middle Kingdom?”, in: Studies Simpson, vol. I, 39–54.

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which lacked any building or structure that could have been used as symbols of the central power. Whether or not this speculative assumption about the role of major local architectural structures in state representation is true, the pattern of the distribution of central places clearly indicates that the physical spaces of local communities were typically left untouched by the state, which rather separated its own organised spaces, restricted and distant from its subjects’ immediate living environment. On the other hand, the central power may have drawn on strategic places of local power.136 Neither did the state, it seems, as a rule created public spaces for surveillance and control. Exceptional in this context are the late Middle Kingdom ḫnrt-enclosures attested by textual and perhaps in one case by archaeological evidence, which were under the authority of a state bureau, the Main Enclosure (ḫnrt wr).137 The ‘enclosures’ appear to have been physical places to control, distribute and perhaps also occasionally house enlistees for compulsory state labour. Dependants of individuals who escaped from such labour duties could be detained (and possibly put to work themselves) by the councils (ḏ¡ḏ¡t) of their towns/villages,138 and were registered under the authority of the Main Enclosure, as were the fugitives themselves.139 The ḫnrt-enclosures were thus institutions of the central authority throughout the land to   Compare also D. O’Connor, “Political Systems and Archaeological Data in Egypt: 2600–1780 B.C.”, World Archaeology 6 (1974), 24–25, on the distribution of administrative centres throughout Egypt. 137   W.C. Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum [Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446] (The Brooklyn Museum, 1955), 19–66; S. Quirke, RdE 39 (1988), 83–106; id., Administration, 130–140; id., Titles and Bureaux, 13 and 92–95; J. Śliwa, “Der ḫnrt von Qasr el-Sagha”, in: Structure and Significance: Thoughts on Ancient Egyptian Architecture, P. Jánosi, ed. (Wien, 2005), 477–481. 138   A. Philip-Stéphan, “Les archives judiciaires égyptiennes: la mémoire du crime et l’oubli du criminel”, in: Egyptian Archives, 34 n. 7. 139   The Duties of Vizier (R13–15: G. van den Boorn, Duties, 120–132) indicates that the responsibility of the Main Enclosure also included keeping registers of (possibly local) officials who were ‘inefficient’ in their duties; contrary to S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 20 and 94, who interprets the ‘roll of transgressors’ (šfd n ḫbnty) mentioned in the Duties as ‘corvée register’, and the whole passage as referring to ‘national service’. Note, however, that this passage from the Duties may equally attest a New Kingdom rather than a Middle Kingdom practice; then, it is not impossible to assume that during the Middle Kingdom the Main Enclosure’s authority over transgessors did not extend beyond the working population, cf. A. Philip-Stéphan, “Les archives judiciaires”, 37–38. However, if the passage reflects Middle Kingdom bureaucratic practices, it seems that the authority of the Main Enclosure was to keep record of any transgressor (whether official or simple state labourer) who failed to perform his/her duties for the state. 136



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control the working population. Their existence was a deviation from the general pattern of the use of space, a sporadic example of central intrusion into local spaces.140 However, it is apparent that such enclosures were not created in every village; they could be characteristic of urban centres or important towns. Perhaps it is not accidental that this institution occurred (if it really was a late Middle Kingdom invention and peculiarity) in a period when a general tendency to establish more precise boundaries is observable, whether spatial or pertaining to authority.141 This tendency for greater precision and the exceptional physical presence of administration in people’s closer environment, both being signs of greater spatial control, might have been associated (though evidently not directly) with a seemingly opposite process. In the same period, restricted access to temples and sacred spaces appear to have been relaxed to some extent: both members of the elite and lesser ranking individuals were allowed to erect mortuary or votive monuments within areas that had earlier been inaccessible to them.142 In a world where restrictions are loosening in certain spheres the intensification of control in others is a logical response. At least in the case of temples it is clear that the spatial division was matched by temporal patterning: the majority of temple staff served on a periodic basis, and functions allowing access to more restricted sectors entailed higher degree of regularity in attendance.143 This system, ideally at least, could be advantageous to all involved. Temples made constant use of the work of a part of the local populace, while the fact that the latter served in periodic (monthly) shifts meant that they were not to give up their normal livelihood activities, that is, they were not disconnected from their original socio-economic background, whereas they drew extra income and were granted privileges which perhaps were also convertible into social prestige. The implication is a system of controlled social mobility. Furthermore, the periodic, that is,

140   Compare J.C. Moreno García, “Review Article: La dépendence rurale en Égypte ancienne”, JESHO 51 (2008), 109. 141   S. Quirke, Administration, 2–4. Note, however, that the definition of boundaries (with respect to Egypt and certain nomes) occurs as a prominent issue already during the early Middle Kingdom. 142   J. Richards, Society and Death in Ancient Egypt: Mortuary Landscape of the Middle Kingdom (Cambridge, 2005), 125–172, 175 and 179. But how this influenced the terms of access for cult performers is undocumented. 143   K.A. Kóthay, “Phyles of Stone-Workers in the Phyle System of the Middle Kingdom”, ZÄS 134 (2007), 149–150.

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regular, presence of a relatively considerable part of the local population within temple precints may have contributed to maintain more effective control over them. Hence temples, irrelevant of their economic or institutional (in)dependence on the state, could perform a function that was advantageous to the central administration.144 Although the differentiation of services according to temporality is only attested within the temple sector, the ordering of society through the control of people’s time, together with their moving in space, was a basic tool of power in Pharaonic Egypt. The constant series of royal commissions bestowed upon officials, the periodicity of cult service, or the recurring, though random, mobilisation of the working population,145 as well as the time discipline of state labourers,146 are all signs of this. Bureaucratic Categorisation Practices A universal bureaucratic tool for maintaining control over the population of a state is their periodic counting, by which the state not only quantifies but categorises and classifies its people according to a variety of factors. Drawing up lists of people (and evidently also of goods) was a key activity of the ancient Egyptian scribes from the earliest time, the exact purpose, regularity and periodicity of which are not always apparent, however. Listing people is only exceptionally attested during the Old Kingdom,147 while Middle Kingdom documentary evidence is more extensive, but still difficult to comprehensively interpret. The majority of the surviving lists are registers of labourers of particular work projects, or enumerations of temple staff on duty, but a few lists specifying household members (wpwt) have also

144   Of course, under alternative circumstances, such authority of temples over the local population may have also resulted in conflicts with the central government or at least in an increase in their independence. 145   B. Menu, Droit et Cultures 39 (2000), 68–69. 146   On time constraints of state workers see G.E. Kadish, “Observations on Time and Work-Discipline in Ancient Egypt”, in: Studies Simpson, vol. II, 439–449. 147   P. Posener-Kriéger, “Les papyrus de Gébélein. Remarques préliminaires”, RdE 27 (1975), 211–221; ead., Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï (Les Papyrus d’Abousir). Traduction et Commentaire, 2 vols (Cairo: BdE 65/1–2, 1976); J. Kraus, Demographie, 71–75.



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survived.148 These wpwt-lists all come from the late Middle Kingdom town of Lahun, and are often interpreted as the first examples of Pharaonic census activities. Unfortunately, the end these countings served, as well as the details of their operation, is far from clear. Several clues show that the Lahun countings were periodic or recurring: (1) six of the seven surviving documents record subsequent stages of the history of the same family; (2) the households or the household heads had to take oaths at certain intervals; and (3) earlier information concerning household members was also recorded. But whether the scope of these lists was to survey the entire population is uncertain. It is evident that during the Middle Kingdom people were meticulously registered by the authorities for state (and perhaps also for local?) work, but it is not clear to what extent the system was uniform, nor are the bureaucratic details of conscription transparent. Although wpwt-lists appear to have been connected with the control of manpower,149 no evidence supports that they would have formed some kind of universal basis for recruitment for a ‘national corvée system’.150 Conscription for compulsory state work may but need not have been calculated from existing registers. Recruitment in the countryside was possibly effectuated through the collaboration of local headmen,151 the majority of whom were apparently illiterate but evidently knew well the inhabitants of their settlements, and could help the labour recruiters with their oral knowledge. It is thus not unfeasible that people were entered on lists only when enrolled into particular projects. Things may have been different in urban centres, on estates of high officials, or with settlements whose inhabitants were assigned to serve a temple. It is not impossible that wpwt-lists were drawn up of only certain groups of the population   F.Ll. Griffith, The Petrie Papyri: Hieratic Papyri from Kahun and Gurob (London 1898), 19–29, pls. IX–X; M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical (Oxford: BAR International Series 1209, 2004), 110–117; D. Valbelle, “Eléments sur la démographie et le paysage urbains d’après les papyrus documentaires d’époque pharaonique”, CRIPEL 7 (1985), 77–78; ead., “Les recensements dans l’Egypte pharaonique des troisième et deuxième millénaires”, CRIPEL 9 (1987), 36, 48–49; B.J. Kemp, Anatomy, 157–158; K.A. Kóthay, “Houses and Households at Kahun: Bureaucratic and Domestic Aspects of Social Organization during the Middle Kingdom”, in: “le lotus qui sort de terre”. Mélanges offerts à Edith Varga, H. Győry, ed. (Budapest: BMHBA Supplément 2001, 2002), 362 n. 62; J. Kraus, Demographie, 75–91. 149   K. Kóthay, “Houses and Households”, 360 n. 55, and 362 n. 62. 150   For a contrary view cf. S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 12–13. 151   C.J. Eyre, “Work and Organisation of Work in the Old Kingdom”, in: Labor in the Ancient Near East, 19; id., “Village Economy”, 44–45. 148

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(e.g. those under the authority of a temple). On the other hand, labour obligations imposed upon the population might have been rather complex and less systematic than they may seem,152 which, again, can imply diversity in the practicalities of conscription. But whatever the scope, purpose and statistical representativeness of the Lahun wpwt-lists, they do provide some evidence for bureaucratic categorisation practices, which can be complemented by the testimony of workers’ lists and registers of temple staff on duty. A most obvious implication is the bureaucratic predominance of the household (ẖrw) registered under a male head. Accordingly, women left without a male household head were entered in the wpwt-list of a male relative.153 Indeed, to place widowed and orphaned women under the authority of a male family member or under some kind of communal protection seems to have been a normative practice.154 Nonetheless, it is the norm itself that implies the existence of women leading their lives outside direct male or communal authority. However, not all solitary women were helpless, some of them may have run their own business and had their own people (family/household perhaps even with servants/serfs).155 Authorities may have taken a different approach when dealing with such women. The so-called ‘fugitive list’ of the late Middle Kingdom Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446 records a woman among individuals who failed to fulfil their labour tasks for the state.156 This episode indicates that a woman could be held responsible for her own state obligations (although the marital status of this woman is not known, she may have been independent). The collective responsibility of the family/household towards the administration is suggested by a number of late Middle Kingdom texts attesting that household members could be seized for compulsory work in place of the household head.157 The word referring to the

  C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status”, 181.   D. Valbelle, CRIPEL 7 (1985), 82; K. Kóthay, “Houses and Households”, 352–363, and 368. 154   K.A. Kóthay, “The Widow and Orphan in Egypt before the New Kingdom”, Acta Antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 46 (2006), 151–164. 155   Documentary evidence attests that not only elite (P Brooklyn 35.1446, the texts on the verso: Hayes, A Papyrus, 87–125. pls VIII–XIV; S. Quirke, Administration, 147–149) but also lower ranking women (P UC 32058, rt 10–11: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, 104–105) could be owners of servants. 156   W. Hayes, A Papyrus, 64–65, pls V–VII, l. 63. 157   K. Kóthay, “La notion de travail”, 169–170. 152 153



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family/household unit in these texts is the same, ẖrw,158 which occurs in the wpwt-lists. The bureaucratic significance of this term is obvious: it was recognised by the administration as the core social unit, whether it referred to a nuclear or an extended family household with or without servants/dependents, but it seemingly never designated a multiple family household. A ẖrw could be part of a larger grouping, the prw, a possible word for multiple family household.159 On the micro-level of society, the prw was evidently an important socio-economic unit; in the countryside, in the organisation of the production it could play a vital role—obviously in co-operation with the village. Yet the prw does not seem to have been of prime importance for the administration, which focussed on the independent, though economically not always self-sufficient ẖrw.160 Despite the centrality of the ẖrw in bureaucratic categorisation, it seems reasonable to allow for a diversity of household forms and, at least under rural conditions, for a relative dominance of larger family and household groupings.161 The general low life expectancy throughout the Pharaonic period may cast doubt on the central role of smaller socio-economic units in the countryside: relying economically on, for instance, the nuclear family would have been risky for an average farmer. This is not to say that nuclear family households were rare, but their significance may have varied according to socio-economic and socio-ecological setting, and, as the history of Hori’s household at Lahun exemplifies,162 the nuclear family household may have represented a temporary stage in the life cycle of the household. Thus, to a certain extent consonant with the universal bureaucratic pattern that tends to focus on the nuclear family, Middle Kingdom administration exercised control over the population through the basic (though not always nuclear) social unit, the ẖrw, without interfering into people’s larger socio-economic milieu. Theoretically, such a

158   For detailed discussion of the term see D. Franke, Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen, 231–244. 159   Heqanakhte, Letter I vs 18, and Letter II vs 5: T.G.H. James, The Hekanakhte Papers and Other Early Middle Kingdom Documents (New York, 1962), pls III and VII. On Heqanakte’s household cf. J.P. Allen, Heqanakht, 107–117. 160   For a different view cf. C. Eyre, “How Relevant was Personal Status”, 184. 161   Cf., e.g., J. Baines, “Society, Morality, and Religious Practice”, 134–135; and K. Kóthay, “Houses and Households”, 349–352. 162   P UC 32163, 32164, and 32165: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, 110–115.

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bureaucratic practice might have resulted in a greater separation of the ẖrw within this larger milieu, thus reinforcing its independence. However, late Middle Kingdom standards of self-presentation point to a general importance of larger social networks in everyday life, whether based on kin or other social relationships.163 Likewise, sporadic indirect evidence indicates that even informal horizontal networks and solidarity relationships may have occasionally been recognised or simply used by the administration. The fact that in one of the Lahun wpwt-lists widowed and orphaned female family members are labelled by both their relationships to the head of the household and as ‘wards (nmḥyt) of the necropolis workers (ḥrtyw-nṯr) of the northern sector’164 may imply the existence and official recognition of associations of persons pursuing the same trade, one aim of which could have been to provide support for dead members’ families.165 Another clue can be seen in the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant, when supply provided to the peasant on the king’s order is actually given to him through a ‘friend/ fellow’ (ḫnms).166 The episode seems to attest a form of horizontal solidarity among relatives and/or fellows living in the same community,167 an otherwise undocumented strategy which was considered by the administration as a possible communication channel. The meticulous identification of people by locality in lists and other administrative documents, as well as the evidence of the control notes which typically arrange and name pyramid builders by their home (?) towns or districts,168 supports that in bureaucratic categorisation the settlement was a key factor. Yet it is not clear whether the localities by which people were identified always indicated their home places. What is more, some people were designated simultaneously by two settlement names, for which explanations are only hypothetical: double identities could refer to having property in different places, indicate different birth and living places,169 but it is also conceivable that one locality recorded home place, the other the place on behalf of which

  Cf., e.g., R.J. Leprohon, JARCE 15 (1978), 33–38.   P UC 32163, rt 3–7: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, 110–111. 165   K. Kóthay, “The Widow and Orphan”, 162. 166   R 18.1–19.7: R. Parkinson, The Tale, 20–22. On the term ḫnms cf. D. Franke, Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen, 355–362. 167   A. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption”, 150–151. 168   F. Arnold, Control Notes, 20, 22–25. 169   S. Quirke, ZÄS 118 (1991), 145–146. 163 164



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work was performed. But not all people featuring in administrative lists were identified by settlement names: some of them were attached to officials or estates of officials, some to lands, others to households (ẖrw) of certain individuals, yet others were dependents (ḏt) of titleholders. One evident reason of this diversity must be seen in the diverse practicalities of the system of compulsory labour. For instance, a person identified as belonging to a household or being a dependent of a title-holder may have been a substitute. Thus the identification method was flexible, and different lists may have placed emphasis on different elements of a person’s identity. The first information the Lahun wpwt-lists provide on the household heads is their occupations:170 one is a regular lector (ẖry-ḥbt ʿš¡) of Sekhem-Senusret, the other one is a soldier (ʿḥ¡wty) belonging to ‘[the second unit of] troops (ḏ¡mw)’ of the northern sector (wʿrt) of an unknown locality, while the latter’s son (possibly a minor at the death of his father) is identified as ‘his father being on the second (unit) of troops’. All the three cases show that naming the occupation alone was not enough for the occupational identification of the household heads; their geographical/institutional171 attachment had equal importance. The view that occupations are performed in particular institutional and/ or geographical settings is generally manifest in bureaucratic labelling of people. On the other hand, there seem to have been occupations that were irrelevant for the administration. In late Middle Kingdom lists some people are not identified by their occupation/function but merely by their geographical origin. Occupations can thus be grouped into two basic categories according to whether they occur or are omitted in administrative texts, indicating that some of them were ‘recognised’ by the administration while some were not. To the first category belonged offices and functions attached to state or temple, as well as activities (that of the soldier and that of the craftsman) which typically also involved royal or temple service but which, by the New Kingdom at the latest, and possibly already during the Middle Kingdom,172 170   The modern term ‘occupation’ is used here in a sense covering the meaning of the Egyptian word ἰ¡t that referred to offices, trades, or set of tasks performed either permanently or temporarily. Compare S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 1–5. 171   Sekhem-Senusret in the title of the lector apparently does not simply refer to the town but to its temple(s). 172   On the role of the military and military service as a ‘profession’ in the Middle Kingdom see O.D. Berlev, “Египетский военный флот в эпоху Среднего царства”, Palestinskij Sbornik 80 (1967), 6–20; id., “Les prétendus “ citadins ” au Moyen Empire”,

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were considered distinct within the socio-occupational framework by the Egyptians.173 This suggests a grouping of occupations into at least five, if connected and sometimes blurred, categories represented by (1) state/royal, (2) temple, (3) military and (4) craft professionals and specialists, and (5) the rest. A representative group of the fifth category, i.e. those occurring without any designation referring to occupation or function, could be the so-called ‘townsmen’ (labelled as ‘man of X/this town’) who appear to have lived outside the economic realm of the state.174 It is clear that contrary to the modern statistical concept, which views occupation as the most important factor of social classification and defines status by occupation in the first place,175 the ancient Egyptian bureaucratic mind divided the population according to their economic utility for the state and for its associated institutions, and was not particularly interested in the individuals’ activities outside the distinguished economic/institutional sectors. The picture is further complicated if the role of the occupation in self-presentation and the prestige of individual occupations are examined. Office, occupation and career were significant elements of the traditional Egyptian self-presentation,176 and commemorating one’s name was associated with the office he held.177 On the other hand, it seems that the lack of interest by the administration in documenting and recognising the occupations of the majority of the population created a norm that activities performed within the frames of the distinguished sectors had a higher status. As a result, the display of occupation in self-presentation of individuals belonging to the middle social strata seems to have been restricted to their duties performed within the frames of the distinguished sectors. For instance, people

RdE 23 (1971), 23–48; and D. Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles in the Period of the Middle Kingdom: Dossier (London: GHP Egyptology 4, 2006). On craftsmen see R. Drenkhahn, Die Handwerker und ihre Tätigkeiten im Alten Ägypten (Wiesbaden: ÄA 31, 1976). 173   Compare D. Valbelle, CRIPEL 9 (1987), 46–47. 174   S. Quirke, ZÄS 118 (1991), 141–149. 175   Cf., e.g, International Standard Classification of Occupations: ISCO-88 (Geneva, 1990); also historically, cf. the HISCO system, e.g., Historical International Standard Coding of Ocupations: Status quo after Coding 500 Frequent Male Occupations (Berlin: HISMA Occasional Papers and Documents Series 3, 1998). 176   D. Valbelle, “La notion d’identité dans l’Egypte pharaonique”, in: Atti. Sesto Congresso Internazionale di Egittologia (Turin, 1993), vol. II, 554. 177   Cf., e.g., the inscription of Khnumhotep II, ll. 7–8: P.E. Newberry, Beni Hasan (London: Archaeological Survey of Egypt, 1893), vol. I, pl. XXV.



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performing temporary temple duties, who evidently were engaged in other economic activities during the larger part of the year, identified themselves by their temple titles rather than by an occupational designation referring to their ‘civil’ trades.178 Thus the occupational status of these people was defined by only one distinguished activity, while a typical household must rely on a variety of economic strategies and occupational activities for securing subsistence, and thus many people likely pursued not only one livelihood activities.179 Classification by age and gender can also be traced in the documents. A universal characteristic of every list is the indication of gender by the use of male, female or child determinatives following titles and personal names. In the designations of children a relative diversity, or inconsistency, is observable. The wpwt-list of the regular lector seems to distinguish between different phases of early infancy designated by one of the following terms: ‘infant’ (ms), ‘infant brought’ (ms ἰn) or ‘infant + age’ (ms + age).180 Though the exact difference between the three phrases cannot be established with any certainty, it seems that it was important to emphasise that a woman had neonates or infants. This differentiation might have had relevance to the mothers rather than the infants: if the lists in fact served as basis for recruitment for labour, women nursing their children, perhaps until they were brestfed and not able to walk, may have been exempted from such obligations. The sign ms also occurs in the wpwt-list of Hori with reference to his son, Sneferu.181 Children or minors could also be designated by the sign šry (‘child’),182 while in one of the Lahun temple documents the sign ẖrd (‘child’) occurs: it is written in red following the titles and names of two members of a temple phyle.183 Clearly, the

  Compare also the discussion of the wʿbw above.   Heqanakhte, for instance, was a k¡-servant, a farmer (although he never in his letters identifies himself as such), and managed a complex household economy; the issue is discussed thoroughly by J. Allen, Heqanakht, 142–189. 180   F. Griffith, Petrie Papyri: Text, 28. Note also the different opinion of J. Kraus, Demographie, 87–88. 181   P UC 32164, l. x+8: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, 112–113. 182   P UC 32130, rt col. II, ll. 6–11 and 14: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Accounts (Oxford: BAR International Series 1471, 2006), 50–51. 183   P Berlin 10242 rt, unpublished. I owe the photograph of the papyrus to the kindness of Ulrich Luft. 178 179

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term here cannot refer to children; it may indicate apprenticeship.184 It cannot be decided whether this relative diversity implies a somewhat developed differentiation with respect to children or it is simply the sign of an inconsistency, or both: an actual differentiation that lacks a consistent vocabulary. Sources also imply age and gender differentiation in labour. A possible term for recruits was ‘young men’ (nfrw),185 while a letter from Lahun attests young women (ẖrdwt nfrwt) put to work as a group, with their names entered into a separate list.186 But age was not always considered: ample evidence confirms that children (although their ages are not known to us) could substitute their parents and vice versa as temporary state labourers.187 Youth and adults, men and women, were all considered and used as workforce by the state, although the nature of their concrete tasks more often than not varied typically according to gender, and sometimes also to age. What is noteworthy is that while male and female youth were labelled by the same term (nfrw/nfrwt), the designations of female workers (when not differentiated as young females) differed significantly from the denominations of male workers. Neither the terminology used to label male workers was applied to them, nor was a distinct vocabulary concerning female work developed. The designation of female workers was rather vague, less technical, and more ad hoc. Women were never called, for instance, ḥsbw or mnyw; these terms were exclusively applied to men. In the Reisner Papyri women recruited from an unnamed town are simply designated as ‘those (ntt) taken from the town’, then follows the term ḏ¡tt (‘weavers’?) referring to their activity.188 A similar vagueness is applied with respect to women enumerated among the mrt-people (estate-workers) belonging to the menial staff of the divine-offerings (ḥtpw-nṯr) of the Lahun temple: while men in the same list are described by labels referring to their concrete activity or position—baker (psy), brewer (ʿfty), or assistant (ẖry-ʿ)—women are simply recorded by their names, 184   On the term ẖrd used as a social term cf. O.D. Berlev, “К социальной терминолоии Древнего Египта (Термин ẖrdw)”, in: Древний Египет и Древняя Африка, V.V. Struve, ed. (Moscow, 1967), 11–14. Consider also that in the Teaching for Merikare the term ẖrdw refers to newly recruited soldiers, E 59: J. Quack, Meri­ kare, 38–39 and 176. 185   A.M. Roth, “Work Force”, in: The Oxford Encylopedia, vol. III, 521. 186   P Berlin 10037 B, ll. x+16–21: U. Luft, Urkunden, 75–81. 187   S. Quirke, Administration, 163. 188   P Reisner I, Section N: W. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner I, 46–47, pl. XX.



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labelled by the generic term ḥmt, ‘servantwoman’, or designated as s¡t.s, ‘her daughter’, i.e. daughter of the woman preceding in the list.189 Women were treated differently from men also in private accounting practice. An account belonging to the Heqanakhte Papyri lists grain amounts distributed to individuals and groups: men are named individually, while women are referred to as a group (ḥmwt šbnw, ‘various women’).190 The only consistent term designating female workers is the word ἰw¡yt, ‘substitute’.191 However, the ἰw¡yt-women were official substitutes of males, so the term can rather be seen as belonging to the terminology of male work. The above outlined bureaucratic classification of the working population according to gender and age is reminiscent of a passage from the Onomasticon of Amenemope, where human beings are grouped into classes by gender and age.192 Although the terminology of the New Kingdom Onomasticon is not compatible with the Middle Kingdom bureaucratic vocabulary, the pattern appears to be the same: a relative diversity with respect to children and a less developed differentiation of females than of males. On what the Middle Kingdom administrative texts are completely silent is the elderly. In the Onomasticon there is a separate category for old men (ἰw¡) but none for old women. This might result from difference in institutionalised social role. Men were holders of offices or occupations (ἰ¡t), while women were not: to their activities the term ἰ¡t was never applied. Then, in Egyptian terms, female work might have been considered as an activity rather than an occupation. When an office or occupation of a man was transmitted to an heir (also a male), the old office holder’s social role changed: he retired from work and was designated by a different term. But in female lives no such institutional change occurred (although it is likely that the participation of aged women in work ceased or at least was restricted). This may not have been different in the Middle Kingdom. At any rate, in administrative texts aged people are unmentioned. There are no indications that they would have been treated differently by the authorities or that exemption from compulsory state labour would have existed on the basis of age. Care for the elderly was probably not   P Berlin 10048: O. Berlev, Общественные отношения, 9–16; Sch. Allam, “Une

189

K t ®C

”, 137–138. classe ouvrière: les merit 190   Account P vs, l. 11: J. Allen, Heqanakht, 20–21, 66–67, pls XXIV and LIII. 191   K. Kóthay, “La notion de travail”, 168–169. 192   A.H. Gardiner, Onomastica, vol. I, nos 295–304.

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a bureaucratic concern but the responsibility of the family, in the first place the heir. If obligations were imposed on households (ẖrw) represented by their heads,193 the organisation of household members for state work (including the problem of aged people) may also have been bestowed on household heads. Ethnic categorisation194 was not part of the bureaucratic practice before the late Middle Kingdom, and even then the range of terms used was very restricted: in administrative lists a relatively large number of people, both men and women, are labelled as ‘Asiatic’ (ʿ¡m/ʿ¡mt), though ‘Medjay’ (mḏ¡y) temple dancers also occur.195 The term ‘Asiatic’ may have referred to a large, ethnically heterogeneous category of people belonging to the middle and lower social strata, some of whom bore Semitic names, others Egyptian ones. Some of them pursued activities typically performed by Asiatics (weaving196 or temple music197), while others carried out similar duties as those who were not labelled as Asiatics. The fact that, at Lahun, people designated as Asiatics never occur among the ritual staff, while they fairly often perform as temple musicians or hold minor temple functions (e.g., doorkeeper), may imply that there existed tasks/occupations that were closed for people of foreign origin. Were they not considered pure to perform ritual functions? This assumed exclusion from ritual service, as well as the fact that a relatively considerable part of the population was meticulously designated as ‘Asiatics’, certainly hints at a normative distinction, which may have occasionally manifested in disdain.198 Nonetheless, the condition and position of Asiatics in everyday life may not have differed from that of the Egyptians (or rather from those who were not labelled as Asiatics), and their distinction in the administrative records, that is, their occurrence among the Egyptian subjects (even if with a distinctive label) may represent a phase in the process of their assimilation. 193   For a contrary view, i.e. a per capita labour obligation on every Egyptian, cf. S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 12–13. 194   For a recent comprehensive study of people of foreign origin and their roles in the Middle Kingdom see T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten während des Mittleres Reiches und der Hyksoszeit II. Die ausländische Bewölkerung (Wiesbaden: ÄA 42, 1998). 195   P UC 32191: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Accounts, 92–95. 196   F. Smyth, “Égypte-Canaan: quel commerce?”, in: Le commerce en Égypte, 5–18. 197   Cf. n. 195. 198   P Berlin 10055 rt: U. Luft, “Asiatics in Illahun: A Preliminary Report’, in: Atti, 291–297.

Crisis And Restructuring Of The State: From The Second Intermediate Period To The Advent Of The Ramesses JJ Shirley Introduction The period under consideration here encompasses the Second Intermediate Period through the formation of the New Kingdom during the 18th Dynasty. There are diverging opinions regarding how exactly to divide and classify the beginning of the Second Intermediate Period and the nature of its relationship with the end of the Middle Kingdom. This is aptly brought out in the Foreword and articles that comprise the volume The Second Intermediate Period (Thirteenth-Seventeenth Dynasties).1 For this discussion of Second Intermediate Period administration I adhere to the political reconstruction provided by Ryholt,2 and further refined by Allen3 and Polz,4 describing overlap between the Egyptian 13th Dynasty at Lisht/Itjtawy and the Canaanite 14th Dynasty in the Delta, the latter of which most likely came to an end with the rise of the Hyksos 15th Dynasty at Avaris. Concomitantly in Thebes there arose the 16th Dynasty, which likely overlapped with the 13th Dynasty before succeeding it. The 16th Dynasty was then itself succeeded by the 17th Dynasty, also based in Thebes.5 New evidence

1  M. Marée (ed.), The Second Intermediate Period (Thirteenth-Seventeenth Dynasties): Current Research, Future Prospects (Leuven/Paris/Walpole, 2010). 2   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period c. 1800–1550 B.C. (Copenhagen, 1997). 3   J.P. Allen, “The Second Intermediate Period in the Turin King-List”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 1–10 and J.P. Allen, “The Turin Kinglist”, in: “Seals and Kings. The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period c. 1800–1550 B.C. by K.S.B. Ryholt”, review by D. Ben-Tor, S.J. Allen, J.P. Allen, BASOR 315 (1999), 47–74, esp. 48–53. 4  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches. Zur Vorgeschichte einer Zeitenwende (Berlin/New York, 2007). 5  Note that I do not follow Ryholt’s (The Political Situation in Egypt, 163–66) suggestion of an “Abydos Dynasty” that ruled concurrently, and perhaps in occasional conflict, with the 16th Theban Dynasty.

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from Edfu6 suggests that there may have been overlap between the late 13th and early 15th Dynasties, or at the very least that the chronological placement of the 14th and 15th Dynasty kings should be revisited. However, if accurate, then by extrapolation this may provide support for Ryholt’s suggestion that the 14th Dynasty co-existed with the earlier 13th and perhaps even part of the 12th Dynasty. Thus, despite the cultural continuity present between the 12th and 13th Dynasties, the clear changes in political power, the diminished resources and shortened reigns of many of the 13th Dynasty kings, and the rise of both foreign and southern Egyptian dynasties during this period seem to this author to indicate that the entire 13th Dynasty should be considered as part of the Second Intermediate Period. There is no doubt that from the 13th through the 17th Dynasties a wide range of social, political and military changes occurred that had a significant effect on how the fragmented state of Egypt was governed. However, our ability to discuss the nature of the administration for each of the Dynasties in the north and the south is limited. In the broadest sense there seems to be a degree of continuity between late 13th Dynasty administration and both the northern 14th and southern 16th Dynasties. This appears to shift with the rise of the Hyksos 15th Dynasty at Avaris and 17th Dynasty at Thebes, when we can begin to detect new policies influenced by changing socio-political circumstances and, for the Hyksos, by their Canaanite cultural origin. As the 18th Dynasty solidifies under kings ruling a unified Egypt certain trends seen in the Middle Kingdom are revived, policies established by the 17th Dynasty kings are continued or expanded—at least initially— and new strategies are put in place. Indeed, the administrative structure of the 18th Dynasty could perhaps best be thought of as developing in four broad phases: early 18th Dynasty through Thutmose II, mid-18th Dynasty from Hatshepsut through Amenhotep III, Amarna Period, and post-Amarna Period/late 18th Dynasty. This is not to imply that during each “phase” the administration was static. Quite the contrary. In fact, the types of officials who gained royal favor changed with each reign, as new favorites emerged and different positions increased or decreased in relative power. 6  N. Moeller, “Discussion of late Middle Kingdom and early Second Intermediate Period history and chronology in relation to the Khayan sealings discovered at Tell Edfu”, ÄuL 21 (2012), forthcoming. I would like to thank Nadine for sharing her article with me prior to publication.



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The remainder of the chapter has been broken into two sections: the Second Intermediate Period and the 18th Dynasty. Each section is introduced by a brief source and historical overview, as well as a discussion of how we might begin to understand the structure of administration during the period under review. Because the 13th Dynasty has been ably covered in previous chapters, the treatment of Second Intermediate Period administration will primarily focus on the 14th–17th Dynasties—including, where possible, interactions between the northern, foreign dynasties, their Egyptian counterparts, and Kushite Nubia—and will present what is known about different areas of administration during that time. For the 18th Dynasty, however, subsequent chapters deal with particular aspects of New Kingdom administration—the Amun domain, the military, the provinces and agriculture, the Levant and Nubia. Thus the focus here will be to present a synthesis of 18th Dynasty administration within Egypt that comments upon not only the administrative structure but also upon the officials who held positions within different sections of the bureaucracy and how they obtained them. I will at times incorporate the discreet areas covered elsewhere in order to present a clear picture of what the 18th Dynasty government looked like, with the goal of bringing out the broader socio-historical context and trends of the administration during this period. The Second Intermediate Period During the late Middle Kingdom/early Second Intermediate Period there is a general reduction—if not collapse—of the strong centralized government as the authority of the 13th Dynasty rulers gradually declines and the burgeoning population of Asiatics/Canaanites in the Delta becomes increasingly powerful. This led to the rise of more regional powers and new spheres of influence increasing in prominence and importance. In addition, the political fragmentation seen during this period is paralleled by significant changes in the material culture occurring throughout Egypt.7 Unlike in periods when phases

7  See, e.g., J. Bourriau, “The relative chronology of the Second Intermediate Period”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 11–38 and A. Seiler, “The Second Intermediate Period in Thebes: Regionalism in pottery development and its cultural implications”, in: ibid., 39–54.

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or stages of administrative development can be roughly defined, the fragmentary nature of the country during the Second Intermediate Period, when simultaneous dynasties ruled by both Egyptian and foreign kings co-existed and had control over portions of the country, necessitates that we consider both that there were changes in how the Egyptians were administering the shifting area under their control as well as how the rival, foreign, rulers were developing and implementing their authority. The division of power seen during the Second Intermediate Period, like that in the First Intermediate Period, bears resemblance to the concept of the “segmentary state” or system, a term used to denote “polities that collapse into parts and then reassemble themselves.”8 For ancient Egypt, the “reassembling” occurs when the country is again reunified under one strong king. As Lehner has pointed out, in the case of ancient Egypt it is perhaps less a system than a feature; one in which each part effectively administers its own area. We should bear in mind that although Egypt was no longer a unified country, this does not necessarily mean that all aspects of a centralized state disappeared. The fact that kings—however many and divergent they are—are still recorded in the textual and archaeological record indicates that we must consider that the rulers within each discreet region held some degree of power and developed administrative structures. To greater and lesser degrees the kings of this period drew on what preceded them and instituted changes as necessary to make their rule and control effective, despite, or perhaps with the help of, increasingly strong and independant local officials. How each of these dynasties ruled their respective areas is not entirely—or equally—well understood. This is due in part to the uneven distribution of our evidence, which consists primarily of seals, sealings and stelae, as well as pottery, statuary, funerary goods, and some tombs. Another problem in understanding this material is the lack of secure archaeological contexts, with our knowledge based on relatively few settlement and cemetery examples, most notably from the sites of Tell el-Dabʿa, Elkab, Abydos, Thebes (particularly Dra Abu elNaga), Edfu, Elephantine, Kerma, Buhen, and Uronarti. Our material from these sources is often simply dated “Second Intermediate Period”,

8  M. Lehner, “Fractal House of Pharaoh”, in: Dynamics in Human and Primate Societies: Agent-Based Modeling of Social and Spatial Processes, T.A. Kohler and G.J. Gumerman, eds. (New York/Oxford, 2000), 275–353.



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14th Dynasty/Hyksos, or 16th/17th Dynasty, making it difficult to discuss each dynasty individually in any meaningful way. As the material dated to the 14th/15th Dynasty is relatively small, a table has been compiled listing the known officials, their titles, monument type, and the date(s) attributed to them by scholars (see Table 1).9 For the 16th and 17th Dynasties there is quite a bit more, and as several scholars have collected it, I refer the reader particularly to the publications of Helck,10 Kubisch,11 Grajetzki,12 Marée,13 Polz,14 and Ryholt,15 and the literature cited therein. The limited nature of the data, particularly for the 14th and 15th Dynasties, means that one must be careful not to argue based on the silence of the evidence; absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Thus a lack of data for particular administrative areas or types of officials does not necessarily mean they did not exist, and conversely, one must be careful not to over generalize from few facts; one title does not necessarily mean an entire department.16 And even if one does take a title to indicate that a particular area of government was functioning,

 9   Compiled essentially from W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches. Prosopographie, Titel und Titelreihen (Berlin, 2000); S. Quirke, “Identifying the Officials of the Fifteenth Dynasty”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant: Chronological and Historical Implications, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds. (Vienna, 2004), 171–194; K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, esp. 54–61, and T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten während des Mittleren Reiches und der Hyksoszeit (Wiesbaden, 2003), esp. 328–33. Also consulted were Do. Arnold, “Image and Identity: Egypt’s eastern neighbors, east Delta people and the Hyksos”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 183–222; D. Ben-Tor, “The Historical Implications of Middle Kingdom Scarabs Found in Palestine Bearing Private Names and Titles of Officials”, BASOR 294 (1994), 7–22; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom (London, 2009); M. Marée, “A sculpture workshop at Abydos form the late Sixteenth or early Seventeenth Dynasty”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 241–282; C. Mlinar, in “The Scarab Workshops of Tell el-Dabʿa”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds., 107–140; and S. Quirke, Titles and bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC. (London, 2004). 10   W. Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 1983). 11  S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit. Biographische Inschriften der 13.-17. Dynastie (Berlin/New York, 2008). 12   W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, passim. 13  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed. 14  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, passim. 15   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, passim. 16  For a useful review of these types of problems, specifically in Egyptology, see J. Gee, “Egyptologists’ Fallacies”, JEgH 3.1 (2010), 137–58. See also the comments of S. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds., 186 sqq.

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it is often unknown or unclear in what level of government the position operated: household, local/regional, or central/palace. Nonetheless, while we must not shy away from making an attempt at using what data we have, we must keep these issues in mind in constructing our interpretations and making assumptions. For the remainder of this section the focus will first be on the northern, foreign rulers and subsequently on their southern, Egyptian counterparts. Although this means that the 14th and Hyksos (15th) Dynasties will be grouped together, as will the 16th and 17th Theban Dynasties, specifics relating to individual dynasties will be discussed where possible. Table 1.  Administrative Officials dated to the 14th and 15th Dynasties Administrative17 Dept. or Area

Title: Translation Transliteration

Official’s Name

Monument Source18 & Date

Palace / Court

s¡ nsw

king’s son

Apophis ‘A’

5 seals

s¡ nsw

king’s son

Ili-Milku

1 seal

s¡ nsw

king’s son; also s¡-nsw /rʿ king’s son eldest king’s son eldest king’s son (eldest) king’s son; also s¡nsw/rʿ

Seket

5/11 seals

Yasri-’Ammu Nebnetjerew

1 seal 1 seal

Yanassi Ipqu

Khayan stela 46 seals

s¡ nsw s¡ nsw smsw s¡ nsw smsw s¡ nsw (smsw)

s¡ nsw (smsw)

(eldest) king’s son; also s¡nsw/rʿ

Nehesy

27 seals

s¡ nsw (smsw)

(eldest) king’s son

Qupepen

11/12 seals

s¡ nsw (smsw)

(eldest) king’s son

Yakbim

2 seals

Ryholt Dyn. 14; Quirke SIP Quirke (Irmk) SIP Ryholt Dyn. 14; Quirke SIP Ryholt Dyn. 14 Ryholt Dyn. 14; Quirke SIP Ryholt = son of Khayan Ryholt Dyn. 14 = son of Sheshi; Quirke (Ipeq/Isheq) SIP Ryholt Dyn. 14 = King Nehesy; Quirke SIP Ryholt Dyn. 14 = son of Yaʾqub-Har; Quirke SIP Ryholt Dyn.14 (not King Yakhbim); Quirke SIP

17   Comments in ( ) add clarification or give alternate interpretations of which administrative area a title falls under. 18  See note 9 above.



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Table 1 (cont.) Administrative Dept. or Area

Title: Translation Transliteration s¡ nsw/rʿ s¡ nsw/rʿ

Official’s Name

Monument Source & Date

Apophis ‘B’

2 seals

Ryholt = son of Apophis

(vizier’s administration ?)

sš ʿ nsw n ḫftḥr, ḫtmty bἰty

personal scribe Tršnwʿḥ of the king’s documents, rsb19

seal

Quirke SIP; Grajetzki Dyn 15–16

(vizier’s administration ?)

ἰrj Nḫn

administrator of Nekhen

Sobekhotep (Nubian)

votive statue

Schneider SIP

(vizier’s administration ?) (vizier’s administration ?)

smsw h¡yt

eldest of the hall eldest of the hall

Kema

seal

Quirke SIP

Ypčhr

seal

Schneider SIP

chief of 10s of Upper Egypt chief of 10s of Upper Egypt

Iy

seal

Quirke SIP

Nehi

seal

Quirke SIP

overseer of the Hor gs-pr, rsb

seal

Quirke SIP

(vizier’s administration ?) (vizier’s administration ?)

smsw h¡yt wr mḏw Šmʿw wr mḏw Šmʿw

(palace/provincial; mr n gs-pr, cf. translations of ḫtmty bἰty Grajetzki; Quirke; Marée in Marée) (based on being gifted his scribal palette)

sš

scribe

Atju

scribal palette

Ryholt & Quirke (in Marée) temp. Apophis

“Treasury”

ἰmy-r ḫtmt, ḫtmty bἰty

overseer of sealed things, rsb

Renseneb

stela

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

overseer of sealed things overseer of sealed things

Nebumerut

offering table 1 seal

Ryholt (Ranisonb) temp. Merdjefare, Dyn. 14; Quirke Dyn. 14; Grajetzki Dyn. 14 Grajetzki Dyn.14 (?) Ryholt Dyn. 14

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

  rsb = royal seal-bearer.

19

. . . m

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Table 1 (cont.) Administrative Dept. or Area

Title: Translation Transliteration

Official’s Name

Monument Source & Date

“Treasury”

ἰmy-r ḫtmt, overseer of ḫtmty bἰty, smr sealed things, wʿty rsb, sf 20

Har

130 seals

ἰmy-r ḫtmt, overseer of ḫtmty bἰty, smr sealed things, wʿty rsb, sf

Peremhesut

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

overseer of sealed things

Raha/Rediha

ἰmy-r ḫtmt, ḫtmty bἰty

overseer of sealed things, rsb

Sadi

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

overseer of sealed things

Ikhuir

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

overseer of sealed things

Aperbaal

ἰmy-r ḫtmt

overseer of sealed things

Sm/tj

Ryholt; Quirke late 14/early 15; Mlinar late 15th, Type Via; Grajetzki temp. Sheshi, 14th Dyn 35 seals Ryholt (Periemwahet); Quirke late 14/early 15; Grajetzki 14th Dyn/Hyksos 10 seals Ryholt; Quirke removes from list; Grajetzki 14th Dyn/ Hyksos 2 seals Ryholt; Quirke removes from list; Grajetzki 14th Dyn/ Hyksos reinsc. Sen Ryholt (ʿAhur) III sphinx & Quirke temp. for Apophis Apophis, Dyn. 15; Grajetzki temp. Khayan Ryholt offering stand; door (ʿAper . . .) & Quirke temp. jamb Apophis, Dyn. 15; Grajetzki temp. Apophis 1 seal Schneider SIP

ἰdnw n ἰmy-r ḫtmt

deputy overseer of sealed things

Aamu

seal

  sf = sole friend.

20

Ryholt & Schneider Dyn. 14; Quirke late Dyn. 13; Mlinar Dyn. 13, Type Ib



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Table 1 (cont.) Administrative Dept. or Area

Title: Translation Transliteration

Official’s Name

Monument Source & Date

ἰmy-r ḫtmtyw, ḫtmty bἰty

overseer of sealers, rsb

Saptah

seal

ἰry ḫtmt

administrator ʿbdbʿ¡ seal of the seal sealer (?) Seth seal great scribe of Nehesi (Nubian) 5 seals the overseer of sealed things

ḫtmty sš ʿ¡ n ἰmy-r ḫtmt rḫ nswt

Rediredi (?)

seal

Quirke SIP

Sahathor

seal

Quirke SIP

overseer Smrtἰ/Smrtἰ-ḥr of sḫtywdwellers/fields, rsb overseer Istamar-Haddu of sḫty(w)workers

2 sealssame or different person? seal

Quirke SIP; Grajetzki Dyn 14/Hyksos

attendant Ymnj¡ of the ḥnktchamber keeper of cloth Senankh

seal

Quirke & Schneider SIP

seal

Quirke SIP

keeper of the chamber keeper of the chamber & cupbearer

Sobeknakht

seal

Quirke SIP

Iam

seal

Quirke SIP

governor & Ht-nw overseer of the temple governor & Sobekhotepoverseer of the sheri temple

seal

Quirke SIP (?)

seal

Quirke SIP (?)

ἰmy-r mšʿ

overseer of the In army, rsb

seal

ἰry pḏt

bowmen

seal

Quirke SIP; Grajetzki Hyksos (?) Quirke SIP; Ben-Tor Dyn 13 (?)

rḫ nswt (cf. translations of Grajetzki & Quirke

ἰmy-r n sḫtyw

vs. Schneider— not part of treasury)

ἰmy-r n sḫty

(palace food production/ economy under purview of “treasury” dept. cf. Quirke & Grajetzki)

ἰḥms n ʿt ḥnkt ἰry sšr

Provincial/ Regional

ḥ¡ty-ʿ ἰmy-r ḥwt-nṯr

ἰry-ʿt ἰry-ʿt wdpw

ḥ¡ty-ʿ ἰmy-r ḥwt-nṯr Military

king’s acquaintance king’s acquaintance

Quirke SIP; Grajetzki Hyksos (?) Schneider Hyksos Quirke SIP Schneider MK-SIP

Saiah

Schneider MKSIP

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Table 1 (cont.) Administrative Dept. or Area

Title: Translation Transliteration

Official’s Name

Monument Source & Date

¡ṯw n ṯt ḥq¡ ḫrp commander

Schneider late SIP

ʿnḫ n ṯt nἰwt

Quirke SIP

(palace)

ʿnḫ n ṯt ḥq¡

(possibly vizier’s administration— workforce organization)

ḥry n tm

šmsw n nb

Achtuan stela of the garrison crew of the ruler soldier/officer Senebendjedbau seal of a town regiment soldier/officer Amenaa seal of the ruler’s crew master of the Djaf seal tm

Quirke SIP

Nahman

dagger

Abed

coffin

Schneider Dyn. 15 (Apophis) Do. Arnold (in Marée) Dyn. 15 (Apophis)

ἰmy-r n wʿrt (?) overseer of the section/ division (?) ἰmy-r n nbyw overseer of gold-workers

Hr-s (?)

seal

Quirke SIP

Saptah

seal

Quirke SIP

sš n ḏ¡ḏ¡t

scribe of the document

Aam

seal

Schneider SIP

(possibly treasury) ἰmy-r pr

steward

Sameryt

seal

Quirke SIP

(possibly treasury/ mr ʿẖnwtj palace)

overseer of the Abasch chamber

seal

Schneider MKSIP

?

seal

Quirke SIP

šmsw Unknown / General (local/national )

sns

follower of his lord follower

Quirke SIP

Dedu

Canaanite 14th Dynasty and Hyksos 15th Dynasty As stated above, one of the main difficulties in discussing the politics and administration of the 14th and 15th Dynasties is the nature of the evidence. Still, the Egyptian textual, iconographic and archaeological data, coupled with artifacts found in Syria-Palestine and Nubia, as well as the administrative structure of contemporary Syria-Palestine, do



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offer glimpses into how the foreign kings may have ruled the north of Egypt. The conclusions offered here are not definitive, relying as they do on data for which the dating and interpretation is still evolving. However, it would appear that during this period some Egyptian practices of the late 13th Dynasty continue to be used, while others seem to have been abandoned. This could indicate that the foreign kings used only those Egyptian administrative practices that were essentially culturally familiar to them, and it is also possible that some Egyptian practices may have been supplanted by structures which the foreign kings introduced. The Evidence Problem Ideally the administration of the 14th Canaanite and 15th Hyksos Dynasties could be discussed fully and separately. However, the difficulty in dating this material, and in understanding the relationship between seal seriation, ceramic sequences, and archaeological context in sites in Egypt, Palestine, and Nubia has resulted in continual debate within the literature and sometimes quite divergent interpretations.21 What one scholar dates to the 14th Dynasty another dates to the 15th Dynasty, and quite often the dating is given simply as 14th/15th Dynasties or Second Intermediate Period. Clearly this has significant implications for our understanding of how the administration functioned under the foreign rulers. As this is not the place to reiterate these arguments it is perhaps best to simply note that, unfortunately, a comprehensive understanding of the 14th and 15th Dynasty administration is not yet possible. Some scholars view the 14th Dynasty as essentially adopting Egyptian administrative practices while the Hyksos kings instituted different

21  See most recently with regard to the dating of royal name scarabs K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 43–52 and “The Date of Kings Sheshi and Yaqubhar and the rise of the Fourteenth Dynasty”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 109–126 versus the work of D. Ben-Tor “Sequences and chronology of Second Intermediate Period royal-name scarabs, based on excavated series from Egypt and the Levant”, in: ibid., 91–108, and D. Ben-Tor and S.J. Allen in: “Seals and Kings. The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period c. 1800–1550 B.C. by K.S.B. Ryholt”, review by D. Ben-Tor, S.J. Allen, J.P. Allen, BASOR 315 (1999), 47–74, esp. 53–65.

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methods, perhaps taken or modeled from their homeland or due to changing circumstances.22 Yet the inability to securely identify more than a few officials—and by extension types of positions—as serving foreign kings, makes it difficult to assess what may represent continuity versus change under these rulers. It is however possible to at least lay out the material that we have and make some rather broad suggestions for how the administrative structure may have looked during this period. Sources and Interpretation Before discussing how the administration of the foreign rulers functioned, it is perhaps useful to note exactly which for offices we have evidence (see Table 1). Based on a combination of dated monuments, archaeological context, seal seriation, and possibly Semitic names, the only high officials who can be dated to the 14th and 15th Dynasties are: ten or eleven king’s (eldest) sons (s¡ nswt (smsw),23 eight to ten overseers of sealed things (ἰmy-r ḫtmt),24 one deputy overseer of sealed things (ἰdnw n ἰmy-r ḫtmt), one overseer of sealers (ἰmy-r ḫtmtjw), one administrator of the seal (ἰrj ẖtmt), one or two overseers of marshland dwellers (ἰmy-r sḫtjw),25 two king’s acquaintances (rḫ nsw), one 22  In particular, see K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 109–14, 138–40, 299, 303–04; S. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds. 23   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 54–59, dates all but one to the 14th Dynasty based on seal seriation. On the difficulties with this see D. Ben-Tor, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., and in “Seals and Kings”, BASOR 315 (1999). See also S. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds., Table 1. 24   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 59–61, discusses six officials, all of whom he dates to the 14th Dynasty on the basis of seal seriation. W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 43, lists eight overseers of sealed things—two for the 14th Dynasty and six for the Hyksos or 14th Dynasty, of which two are certainly Hyksos officials. S. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds., 178–80 removes two of Hyksos/14th Dynasty group based on the similarity of the signs in their names to those of the overseer of sealed things Har as being “by-products of the phenomenal output of Har scarabs”. T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, 214, 328, lists three as being Asiatic Hyksos overseers of sealed things, with a possible fourth. 25  Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 181; cf. Quirke, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., 183. Based on whether the very similar names Smrtj and Smrtj-ḥr denote one or two individuals. See also T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, 232 sq. who translates this title as overseer of fieldworkers and lists another individual bearing the title dating generally to the Middle Kingdom-Second Intermediate Period.



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overseer of the gs-pr, one personal scribe of the king’s documents (sš ʿ n nsw n ḫft-ḥ r), one overseer of the army (ἰmy-r mšʿ), and two governors (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ ἰmy-r ḥ wt-nṯr). Of those that could be placed in a lower level of administration we have an assortment of titles relating to the palace, department of sealed things, regional or local administration and the military, as well as some more general areas.26 What is immediately clear is that the department of sealed things is the best represented, and that of vizier is essentially non-existent.27 Despite the few known titles dating to this period, the presence of Asiatics throughout the central, military, local, and household administration dating back to the Middle Kingdom,28 and even earlier, means that the Asiatics who came into power—at least in the 14th Dynasty— would be perfectly familiar with Egyptian power structures. Thus it seems noteworthy that while Asiatics are present in several of the administrative areas mentioned above, the department of sealed things seems dominated by men with Asiatic names: overseers include Har (also a king’s acquaintance, 15th Dynasty),29 Ihujr (reign of Khayan), Aperbaal (reign of Apophis), and possibly Sm/tj; administrator of the seal (ἰrj ḫtmt) ʿbdbʿ¡ (15th Dynasty); overseer of sealers Saptah (15th Dynasty); and the attendant of the ḥ nkt chamber Ymnj¡ (SIP). The two overseers clearly dated to the 14th Dynasty by contrast bear Egyptian names: Renseneb (reign of Merdjefare) and Nebumerut,30 while the deputy

26  In his discussion, S. Quirke (in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed.) removes some officials from this list, dating them not later than the mid-13th Dynasty. However, as there was overlap between the 13th and 14th Dynasty (and likely the 15th Dynasty as well), these officials should perhaps also be considered, at least for the deputy overseer of sealed things Aam, whose name is clearly Semitic. 27   As already noted by W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 41, 66 and Die höchsten Beamten, 32, 66–67. 28   On the presence of Asiatics in Egypt during the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period and their positions in society, see T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten; U. Luft, “Asiatics in Illahun: A Preliminary Report,” in: Sesto Congresso Internationale di Egittologia: Atti, II, G.M. Zaccone and T.R. di Netro, eds. (Turin, 1993), 291–297. 29   Although Mlinar notes that few of Har’s scarabs come from secure contexts, based on the typology they are part of the “Late Tell el-Dabʿa group” (specifically Type Via) defined by Mlinar which dates to the late 15th Dynasty, and Mlinar further suggests that Har’s scarabs were made in the Tell el-Dabʿa workshop. See C. Mlinar, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., 130; see also T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, 214 sq., 328; contra Ryholt’s placement of him in Dynasty 14, for which see K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 59–61. 30   W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 61.

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to the overseer of the seal Aamu, who is clearly an Asiatic, has been dated to the late 13th Dynasty based on the findspot of his scarab and its typology, and 14th Dynasty based on his Asiatic name.31 Other 14th and 15th Dynasty Asiatic officials worth noting include several working in or reporting to the palace: the eldest of the hall Ypčhr, a palace official; the personal scribe of the king’s documents Tršnwʿḥ , who would either have been working in the palace or perhaps at the provincial level on the king’s behalf; the overseer(s) of marshland dwellers Smrtj/Smrtj-ḥ r who would have reported to the palace; commander of the garrison crew of the ruler Achtuan; a scribe of the document (sš n ḏ¡ḏ¡t) Aam; and a (possibly royal) scribe Atju.32 Finally, the king’s (eldest) sons are all Asiatic, and their possible role as administrators will be discussed below. The Role of the Overseer of Sealed Things and His Department in the 14th and 15th Dynasties As noted above, the overseers of sealed things represent the most well-known officials during the 14th and 15th Dynasties. Likewise, the titles of officials who worked under or with the overseer of sealed things during the late 13th Dynasty—high steward, overseer of sealers, overseer of marsh dwellers and king’s acquaintance—and who are mostly known from scarab seals and stelae, are also represented in the 14th/15th Dynasty sealing corpus. Thus it seems that the increasing number and type of usage for seals seen in the late 13th Dynasty, particular for the overseer of sealed things and his administration, matches well with the pattern seen in the 14th and 15th Dynasties.33 This suggests that the foreign kings continued to utilize the administrative system already in place, at least for the purposes of economic relations. However, the relative prevalence of the seal-related officials during the 14th and 15th Dynasties may also indicate that the duties of the

31   Aamu’s scarab comes from his burial at Tell el-Dabʿa, which is located in str. b/3 (= Str. F of Area A/II) and is dated to the 13th Dynasty stratigraphically and by seal typology, see C. Mlinar, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., 110. For the 14th Dynasty date see K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 61 and T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, 213, 328. 32  S. Quirke, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 58. Atju was gifted a palette by Apophis, indicating his elite and favored status. 33   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 68–9.



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overseer of sealed things were extended under the foreign kings. Evidence of trade and contact between the Delta and the Levant can be seen through the burial assemblages at Tell el-Dabʿa, which consistently display imported items of Levantine origin, or locally made imitations. Likewise, the inclusion of Cypriot pottery, particularly during the 15th Dynasty, attests to the Hyksos’ connections with the wider Mediterranean.34 This is also true of Nubia, where sealings, scarabs, pottery and Tell el-Yahudiya ware have been found at Kerma and sites in Lower Nubia.35 Although the existence of trade relations between the 14th Dynasty and late Middle Kingdom rulers has not universally been accepted,36 new evidence from Edfu lends support to the proposition that the Egyptian and foreign kings carried out (friendly) trade and potentially diplomatic relations at least until the early 15th Dynasty. At Edfu,37 the existence of a large administrative building, in use from the 12th Dynasty until the mid-late 13th Dynasty, indicates that there was some degree of contact, likely trade-based, between the late 14th or early Hyksos Dynasties in the north and southern towns under Egyptian authority during the late 13th Dynasty. The dating of the structure is based on the secure archaeological context of both the ceramic sequence and the large number (more than 1400) of administrative sealings found, which exhibit characteristics found in both late Middle Kingdom Egyptian and foreign (northern Delta and Palestinian) repertoires. For example, several sealings of the “seal-bearer, high steward, king’s retainer” Redienptah (Dynasty 13) form part of the 34  See I. Forstner-Müller, “Tombs and burial customs at tell el-Dabʿa during the late Middle Kingdom and the Second intermediate Period”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée ed., 127–138 and M. Bietak, “From Where Came the Hyksos and where did they go?”, in: ibid., 139–182, esp. 150–52. See also K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 105–16, 138–43. 35  See, e.g., J. Bourriau, in: Egypt and Africa: Nubia from Prehistory to Islam, W.V. Davies, ed. (London, 1991), 129–144, esp. 130–35, and L. Török, Between Two Worlds: the frontier region between ancient Nubia and Egypt, 3700 BC–AD 500 (Leiden/Boston, 2009), 107–08 and the sources cited therein. See also K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 113–15, 140–41. 36   This was suggested by K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 105–16, based partly upon the apparent overlap in distribution of Tell el-Yahudiah ware with those of seals belonging to 14th Dynasty officials which—for Ryholt—indicated that the 14th Dynasty rulers had strong trade connections to the Levant, but also engaged peacefully with the 13th Dynasty Egyptian kings and Nubia. For a critique of his analysis, see D. Ben-Tor, in “Seals and Kings”, BASOR 315 (1999). 37   The following is based on N. Moeller’s forthcoming publication in ÄuL 21 (2012). I am very grateful to her for sharing this with me.

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Edfu corpus. Known from sealings found throughout Upper Egypt,38 this official, or his delegates, would have been in charge of various types of commodities emanating from the palace to various locales in Egypt. At Edfu, in the same deposit as Redienptah’s sealings, were a large number of sealings of the human figure with lotus flower motif, a type of northern/Palestinian origin. Moeller suggests that the quantity could be the result of a northern official stationed at Edfu, or represent trade goods sent from the north to Edfu.39 In addition to private name and motif sealings were found sealings of both Sobekhotep IV and the Hyksos king Khayan, suggesting an overlap between the late 13th and Hyksos Dynasties.40 Thus the sealing of goods, and by extension the officials in charge of sealing, still formed an important part of administrative practice at least into the early Hyksos period. This is consistent with the idea that the overseer of sealed things and his department were of primary importance during this period. The sealing from Tell el-Dabʿa with the impressions of both Yaqubher and the 13th Dynasty vizier Seneberau, may now also demonstrate this relationship, rather than the re-use of these seals during the Hyksos Period.41 If this is accurate, then the Yaqubher/vizieral seal could be an example of counter sealing (see below) done between the Egyptian palace at Itjtawy and the foreign palace at Tell el-Dabʿa.42 Viziers and King’s Sons Although viziers are known for the late 13th and 16th Dynasties, the documentation comes almost solely from Upper Egypt. In the north,

38  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals. Principally of the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period (Oxford, 1971), nos. 873, 890–896a; see also W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 101. 39  N. Moeller, ÄuL 21 (2012), forthcoming. It is also possible that given the preponderance of data from Upper Egypt this official was based at the Theban palace. 40  N. Moeller, ÄuL 21 (2012), forthcoming. She further suggests that Khayan is not the predecessor of Apophis but rather must be placed at the very least in the early 15th Dynasty, or even the late 14th Dynasty, perhaps near the rule of Yaqubhar as already suggested by D. Ben-Tor, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 95–97. But cf. K.S.B. Ryholt, in: ibid., for dating Yaqubhar in the 14th Dynasty. 41   Cf. K.S.B. Ryholt, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 123–24, and with a different interpretation M. Bietak, “Seal Impressions from the Middle till the New Kingdom—A Problem for Chronological Research”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., 43–56, esp. 48–54. 42  It is also possible that this marks the first attestation of an Egyptian vizier serving a foreign king.



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a few late 13th Dynasty viziers are attested only on seals,43 while based on the extant evidence, no viziers are attested for the 14th or 15th Dynasties.44 Likewise the administration of the vizier, as represented by his subordinates, seems virtually non-existent in the north (for the continuity of the vizier’s bureau in the south, see below). Among those officials who might be considered as falling under the vizier’s authority, if not his administration directly (based on the Middle Kingdom structure), are a personal scribe of the king’s documents with the unusual name of Tršnwʿḥ ,45 an administrator of Nekhen, two officials with the title eldest of the hall, and two called great one of 10s of Upper Egypt.46 However, none of these titles are truly conclusive evidence for a functioning vizierate in the 14th and 15th Dynasties. The king’s personal scribe was, as the title indicates, primarily an official of the king, and thus is perhaps better seen as only tangentially relating to the vizier’s control over scribal offices. The latter three titles are not well understood, but in the Middle Kingdom were often held by persons in the provinces or sent on expeditions, and may even denote rank rather than actual functions.47 It may be that the lack of northern viziers and vizierate administration following the 13th Dynasty reflects a situation in which the highest position in the north became that of overseer of sealed things, who possibly took on some of the roles of the vizier. It also seems plausible that given the much smaller territory over which the foreign kings had control, there was no longer need for a vizier to oversee these areas, or to organize expeditions to them. These activities might have been delegated directly by the king, placed under the charge of the overseer of sealed things in his role as managing economic affairs, or perhaps placed in the hands of the king’s sons.

43  G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, nos. 555 (Minhotep); 1130 (Hori); 1383 (Sobekaa). 44   As already noted by W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 41, 66 and Die höchsten Beamten, 32 sqq., 67, 261 sqq. 45  His seal, with back type 10, places him in the Second Intermediate Period generally; see G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, no. 1726a. 46  Each official is known only from a single seal, all of which have back type 10, which dates to the Second Intermediate Period. See Martin, G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, 5–6. 47   W. Grajetzki, in: Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 310. See also the classification and discussion of these titles in S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux and “Four Titles: What is the Difference?”, in: Archaism and Innovation: Studies in the Culture of Middle Kingdom Egypt, D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson, J. Wegner, eds. (New Haven/ Philadelphia, 2009), 305–316.

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Among the limited data available for the 14th and 15th Dynasty the prevalence of seals belonging to “king’s sons” stand out. These seals have been found at various sites throughout Egypt, Nubia, and the Levant. Based on the quantity and distribution of these seals, Ryholt has suggested that they “were in reality used by officials for administrative purposes, just like the seals of kings and treasurers.”48 Even if this is accurate, which is by no means certain,49 it does not preclude the possibility that the king’s sons themselves were active in the administration. On the other hand, while six of these men are also designated as eldest king’s son, likely indicating they are true princes, three—Apophis ‘A’, Ili-Milku (Irmrk), and ʿYašri-Ammu—are only given the appellation king’s son.50 Thus it is perhaps possible that rather than denoting actual princes, these three might in fact be elites granted a status title that denoted their importance and loyalty to the king. Whether they are true princes or elite officials, what the role of king’s sons might have been in the administration—if any—is difficult to determine. The distribution of the seals belonging to the king’s son might suggest their involvement (or that of their subordinates) in trade relations or expeditions for procuring materials.51 Bietak suggests that during phase/stratum H at Tell el-Dabʿa (MB IIA, late 12th-early 13th Dynasties), there may have existed a “ruler of Retjenu” based at the city who was responsible for organizing mining expeditions to the Sinai and Levant, particularly as they often included large numbers of Asiatics, either on behalf of a 13th Dynasty Egyptian king, or on   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 287–88, see also 109 sqq.  In terms of the number of seals, among the 10 princes with seals (Khayan’s son Yanassi appears on his stela) eight individuals have between 1 and 12 seals while only Ipqu and Nehesy have one what one might call a true “quantity” of seals bearing their names—46 and 27 respectively. 50  From K.S.B. Ryholt (The Political Situation in Egypt, 54–59) these are Apophis ‘A’, Ili-Milku (Irmrk), ʿYašri-Ammu; Seket is called both king’s son and s¡ nsw rʿ, while Apophis ‘B’ only bears the designation s¡ nsw rʿ. 51  See K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 105–08, n. 355–358 for lists and maps showing their distribution (note that he includes royal seals here as well). However, the dating of these seals, most of which come from burial assemblages, is still problematic, and involves a combination of stylistic assessment and archaeological context (though only about 10% are provenanced), neither of which is necessarily precise despite advances in distinguishing Egyptian from Canaanite-produced seals, and a clearer grasp of the archaeological, ceramic and socio-historical record. Note, for example (and most recently), the different conclusions reached using the same material by D. Ben-Tor, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., and K.S.B. Ryholt, in: ibid. 48 49



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his own initiative.52 Although we should be cautious about extrapolating too far,53 we might perhaps see in this the beginnings of the role that royal, or royal-titled officials, played in the 14th and 15th Dynasty administrations. Possible Influences on the Administrative Structure The short survey presented above indicates that, although we lack complete documentary evidence, several—but not all—positions continued at least in some form under the foreign kings. This suggests that foreign rulers largely utilized the administrative structure in place during the later 13th Dynasty. However, it seems equally plausible that the foreign rulers might have also deliberately chosen, or adapted, those Egyptian practices which resembled administrative structures from their homeland. While this is perhaps less likely for the 14th Dynasty, which seems to have grown out of the well-established Asiatic presence in the Delta, it would seem that the Hyksos kings, given the combination of Egyptian and foreign features in their titulary, might have also combined administrative practices. At the very least, it seems too simplistic to suggest that the foreign kings merely utilized the titles most familiar to them from trade dealings with the Egyptians,54 especially given the preponderance of Asiatics performing duties in other areas of Egyptian society throughout the Middle Kingdom. The following two sections present some features or characteristics of late 13th Dynasty Egyptian and contemporary Syro-Palestinian administration that might provide insight into how the 14th and 15th Dynasty governments functioned.

52  M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 147 sqq. The evidence consists of stelae from the Sinai with large numbers of Canaanite foreigners participating, including a “brother of the ruler of the Retjenu”, the well-known overlifesize statue of an Asiatic found in a tomb chapel dated to phase H at Tell el-Dabʿa, and a scarab ring dating to the late 12th Dynasty inscribed for a “ruler of Retjenu”. 53  Ryholt’s dating and use of seals as well as Tell el-Yahudiya ware for interpreting the nature and extent of relations between the Egyptian 13th Dynasty, Asiatic 14th Dynasty, Nubia, and the Levant (The Political Situation in Egypt, 84–85, 105–16) as “a well defined and organized trade” with “officials permanently stationed abroad” has been extensively criticized; see S.J. Allen, in “Seals and Kings”, BASOR 315 (1999) and D. Ben-Tor in “Seals and Kings”, BASOR 315 (1999). 54   As suggested by W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 66.

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I.  Egyptian It has been suggested that during the 13th Dynasty two significant changes occurred that may have bearing on how the 14th Dynasty and Hyksos administrative structure worked. First, “royal sealer / sealbearer” (ḫtmty-bἰty) becomes the dominant ranking title; it is seen in the titularies of the highest officials who were directly responsible to the king and charged with carrying out a wide variety of duties.55 Second, the vizier and overseer of sealed things (ἰmy-r ḫtmt—sometimes called the treasurer) become the heads of separate areas of palace government—the former concentrated on scribal, workforce, royal projects and the latter on the economic aspects of the administration. The use of seals was an important part of the overseer of sealed things’ administration, as attested by the numerous sealings found bearing this title and the names of men who held the position, particularly from the late 13th Dynasty onwards.56 Both the quantity of seals and the use of the “royal seal-bearer” title for officials under the overseer of sealed things may indicate that officials connected to this branch of administration used the seals of the overseer of sealed things to mark their authority on his behalf. Instances of counter-sealing (stamping by more than one seal) may relate to this practice of authority-marking, perhaps as an example of controlling commodities more directly, but could also indicate the movement of goods from one place to another—the item would be checked and re-sealed at each stop.57 During the Middle Kingdom, the administration of the seal, or sealed things, headed by the overseer of sealed things was one component of several major institutions that formed part of an overarching centralized structure. This centralized structure began to break down during the Second Intermediate Period, and it is in this context that we must view the prevalence of seal-related offices and officeholders in the north during the 14th and 15th Dynasties. The research of Kubisch into biographies of the Second Intermediate Period demonstrates that, as in the First Intermediate Period, certain provincial officials gained in power and prestige, taking on the responsibility of protecting and providing for the people within their domain. However, unlike in the 55   K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 84 sqq., 109, 297–98; D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 305–06 (cf. 375–76); W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 68. 56   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 17–18, 68–9. 57   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 68–9; K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 109–10.



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First Intermediate Period, these individuals appear not to have competed with each other or the king.58 The Second Intermediate Period biographies do not appear to indicate the same struggle for regional control and material resources prevalent during the First Intermediate Period. This may be in part due to the nature of the evidence as the autobiographies date to the late 13th and 16th–17th Dynasties, and come from the areas under the authority of the Theban kings.59 We simply do not have complementary material from the area under 14th and 15th Dynasty control. However, according to Forstner-Müller, the changes in architecture and use of the land alongside the continuity of funerary culture visible in area AII stratum F at Tell el-Dabʿa, which corresponds to MB IIA–B and the later 13th Dynasty “must also be seen against a backdrop of disappearing control from Lisht”.60 Bietak further suggests that as the Egyptian central administration broke down, regions throughout Egypt began to rely more on their own, local resources, resulting, at Tell el-Dabʿa, in a decline in Upper Egyptian pottery and an initial increase in Levantine imports because Tell el-Dabʿa no longer functioned as a distribution center for Levantine products, keeping them instead.61 The evidence from Edfu discussed above indicates that there was at least some degree of continued contact between north and south during the 14th and 15th Dynasties. The prevalence of seals and seal-related offices might thus indicate how regional centers in the south and foreign kings in the north attempted to retain control over the movement of goods in a changing economy. II.  Tell el-Dabʿa and Syria-Palestine The archaeological and epigraphic evidence from the site of Tell el-Dabʿa, a center of the 14th Dynasty and capital under the Hyksos, supplements the information that can be gleaned from the seals. Excavations there have revealed that Western Asiatics were part of the community from the late 12th Dynasty through the Hyksos Period. 58  S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, passim and “Biographies of the Thirteenth to Seventeenth Dynasties”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 313–328, esp. 319–22. 59  Included in Kubisch’s (Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit) corpus are inscriptions from Abydos, Edfu, Elephantine, Elkab, Esna, Gebelein, Hierakonpolis, and Thebes. From outside of Egypt there is one Dynasty 13 statue group from Ugarit, six stelae from Buhen given 17th or 13th/17th Dynasty dates and 1 rock inscription from Kumma dated to Dynasty 13. 60  I. Forstner-Müller, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 134. 61  M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 151–52.

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The intermingling of Egyptian and Asiatic elements found throughout the site, in its architecture, material culture, and funerary customs, has made it a focus of the discussion of the Asiatic presence in Egypt and their eventual rise to kingship. It thus seems necessary here to give a brief review of the data before turning to its implications for 14th and 15th Dynasty administration. Although the interpretation of the Tell el-Dabʿa material is continually evolving,62 the most recent analysis suggests that from the outset the Asiatics who settled, or were settled, at Tell el-Dabʿa in the late 12th Dynasty were acculturated individuals who likely served the Egyptian kings as soldiers, craftsmen, and laborers connected to the harbor. This continues through the 13th Dynasty, but it is also clear from the increasing wealth of the multi-cultural burial assemblages and the construction of a palatial quarter for officials (Area F/I, Stratum d/1 = Phase G/4) that Asiatics begin to form part of the elite population of the site. The important role that Asiatics played at Tell el-Dabʿa during the late 12th and 13th Dynasties is indicated both by the famous statue of an Asiatic dignitary from a tomb dating to the late 12th Dynasty (Area F/I, Stratum d/2 = Phase H), which Arnold characterizes as representing an “east Delta local power holder”,63 and an amethyst scarab ring of a “ruler of Retjenu” found in a tomb of the early 13th Dynasty (Area F/I, Stratum d/1 = Phase G/4). As noted above, Bietak has recently suggested that this enigmatic “ruler” might have been in charge of mining expeditions to the Sinai.64 Arnold suggests that the fact that these men retained clearly Asiatic elements to express their identity is indicative of their “cultural and ethnic ties to the east outside Egypt’s frontier.”65 Following the initial influx of Canaanites in the late 12th Dynasty, the relative continuity of the funerary repertoire now suggests to the excavators that while there are changes in the arrangement of the site and an increase in Canaanite material culture dating to the late 13th/ 14th Dynasty, as well a significant expansion of the site at the beginning 62  See the many publications by M. Bietak and others in ÄuL, as well as C. Mlinar, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., and the recent articles of I. Forstner-Müller and M. Bietak in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., with the literature cited therein. 63  Do. Arnold, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 192–200; quote from p. 200. 64  M. Bietak, should be cited the same as in fn 61 above 147. 65  Do. Arnold, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 197.



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of the Hyksos Period, there was not a second influx of people from the Near East. Rather, this apparent intensification of an elite Asiatic presence at the site, alongside the development of a distinctly “Tell el-Dabʿa” material culture, is now seen as reflecting the changing sociopolitical climate of the late 13th through early 15th Dynasties. At the end of the Middle Kingdom the inhabitants of Tell el-Dabʿa became increasingly independent from the authority of the weakening Egyptian 13th Dynasty, allowing the 14th Dynasty to establish itself outside of Egyptian control, and perhaps to take over Delta towns formerly part of the Egyptian state.66 From this point forward the material culture demonstrates that the site continued to be inhabited by peoples displaying a mixed Egyptian-Canaanite material culture, suggesting that any population influxes—including that seen at the very beginning of the Hyksos Period—were likely due to acculturated Asiatics relocating to Tell el-Dabʿa from within Egypt.67 If we view the rise of the 14th and Hyksos Dynasties part of a larger socio-historical development, then the use of Egyptian administrative structures should not be surprising. Schneider has suggested that the Hyksos’ rise should perhaps be understood as a local political process centered in the eastern Delta, and not one that relied on the notion of “foreign” or “other” as a defining ethnic characteristic of the group.68 However, their use of the foreign title ḥ q¡ ḫ¡swt within their titulary and the retention of their clearly Semitic names implies that the Hyksos viewed themselves as separate from the land which they ruled. As Arnold notes, this is further suggested by the fact that the Hyksos did not produce statuary, but rather usurped that of previous Egyptian kings, a marked contrast to the Asiatic statuary from the late 12th and 13th Dynasty discussed above, perhaps indicating that they “did not understand themselves as a continuation of the Asiatic presence in Egypt”.69 It seems possible then that while the Hyksos kings may have

66  M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 151, notes that local governors (ḥ¡ty-ʿ) of Delta towns such as Bubastis seem to disappear beginning in the 14th Dynasty. 67  M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., esp. 151, 163. See also I. Forstner-Müller, in: ibid., esp. 128–29, 134–35. 68  T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten, 341. See also I. Forstner-Müller, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 135 and Do. Arnold, in: ibid., 206–07. 69  Do. Arnold, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 206–10, quote from p. 209.

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utilized some aspects of Egyptian administration, the organization of the government—like the material culture—would also be influenced from what existed in contemporary Middle Bronze Age Syria-Palestine. Scholars have traditionally looked to southern Palestine as the homeland of the Asiatics and origin of the Hyksos, based particularly on the distribution of Tell el-Yahudiah ware and Hyksos scarab seals which are found predominately throughout the southern Levant during the 15th Dynasty. However, Bietak maintains that this data should be understood as reflecting contemporary contact between the Hyksos and southern Canaan, rather than evidence for their place of origin. He has thus recently argued for a northern—that is Syrian—origin for the Cannanites at Tell el-Dabʿa in the late 12th and 13th Dynasties, based on architectural and cultural parallels (particulary ceramic and glyptic), with sites such as Ugarit, Qatna, Ebla, Mari, and Alalakh, as well as the nature of Egyptian contact with the Levant in the Middle Kingdom which centered on Byblos and its environs.70 If we extend Bietak’s review to include the administrative structure of Syria-Palestine during the Middle Bronze it is clear that here too some parallels might be suggested for the prevalence of the overseer of sealed things and his department, as well as, perhaps, the reason that early Asiatic elites labeled themselves as “rulers”, and the role of king’s sons within the administration. Syria-Palestine71 during this time was largely split up into city-states, with prominent cities controlling a particular area, and vying with each other for control; the best known are Ebla, Yamkhud (Aleppo), Qatna, Charchemish and Alalakh. Palaces found at these cities imply a court-centered government, and while in some places there appears to be a merging of palace and temple, in others they remain separate entities with the palace largely responsible for the economy of the city. Thus the function of Egyptian department of the overseer of sealed things, which was in charge of the palace economy—both receiving

 M. Bietak, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 150–63.  For the topics covered in this and the following paragraph, see, in general, the useful summaries and literature cited in entries covering the culture, history, and administration of Canaan, Syria-Palestine and Mesopotamia, as well as the sites and archives of Ebla and Mari, in J.M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York, 1995) and A. Kuhrt, The Ancient Near East c. 3000–330 B.C. (London/ New York, 1995), particularly Vol. I, Part I. On the early history of Mesopotamia and its relations with Syria-Palestine, see also J.N. Postgate, Early Mesopotamia: Society and Economy at the Dawn of History (London/New York, 1995). 70 71



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items into and procuring them for the palace—would likely have been understood by the Hyksos rulers. As noted above, the prominence of overseers of sealed things during this period is seen in both the number of title holders, and the large quantities of seals known for them. The continued use of this office and its increase in prominence under the Hyksos kings could perhaps be seen as an indicator of these rulers adopting an Egyptian institution whose workings were basically familiar to them and adapting it to suit their needs. Two sets of archives from Syria-Palestine are informative for examining possible similarities between Syrian and 14th/15th Dynasty administrative structures: those of Ebla and Mari. The archives from Ebla document its place as a political center in northern Syria for nearly two centuries, incorporating a mix of Mesopotamian and locally developed features in its administration, including the continuing importance of powerful families, now as part of the upper echelon of officials. Based on their names, the rulers of these cities come largely from an Amorite background, and thus the administrative system put in place by the Amorites under Shamshi-Adad at Mari may also provide clues as to how Syria-Palestine, and by extension the Hyksos government, may have been organized. The Mari archives provide a great deal of information about both Shamshi-Adad’s government and its dealings with the Syro-Palestinian city-states. Telling for our purposes is that princes played an important role in governing areas, or districts, of the Assyrian heartland.72 Perhaps the large number of seals belonging to Asiatic “king’s sons” reflects the implementation by the Hyksos of placing princes in charge of particular areas under their control, or at the very least sending them as representatives.73 There were certianly king’s sons, or individuals titled as such, who functioned within the Egyptian 12th and 13th Dynasty administration, particularly in relation to military duties. As with the overseer of sealed things, their increase in prominence under the Hyksos might suggest that king’s sons were

72   Although far from Syro-Palestine, the contact between Mesopotamia and SyroPalestine during the Middle Bronze Age and the shared Amorite background of its rulers suggests that there could also be similarities in the administrative structure. 73   While traditionally the Hyksos border has been placed at Cusae, I. ForstnerMüller (in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 135) has recently suggested that “The nucleus of Hyksos power was confined to the eastern Delta or possibly the whole of the Delta. There is no evidence that the Hyksos ruling class achieved supremacy over Palestine or, for that matter, over the rest of Egypt through territorial occupation.”

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now playing a more significant role, one which perhaps even took on some of the duties previously assigned to the vizier. As a final note, I would mention that during the Middle Kingdom several Syrian princes took on the Egyptian title of governor (ḥ¡ty-ʿ). In doing so they were adapting their power structure (if in name only) to that of the Egyptians with whom they had close connections during this period. Thus, given the clear mixing of local and foreign elements in the administration of Middle Bronze Syria-Palestine, the Hyksos may have found it quite easy to adopt those offices which had counterparts in their homeland—such as the overseer of sealed things, and forgo those—such as vizier, which did not. Conclusions To sum up, although it is difficult to fully discuss the administrative structure of the 14th and 15th Dynasties, it is clear that the two dominant areas were the overseer of sealed things and his department, and the palace as represented by the king’s sons. The installation of Asiatics as overseers of sealed things and the use of king’s sons, or officials titled as such, the administration would have ensured the loyalty of the officials, or could have been granted as a reward for such loyalty by the kings. While is does appear that the 14th and 15th Dynasty government was influenced by the Egyptian administrative structure of the late 13th Dynasty, the Asiatics seem to have selectively used and perhaps even extended the purview of officials relating to the economy. This should be viewed in the context of the weakening of Egyptian control and thus governmental oversight and power over material resources, resulting in the need for the foreign kings to takeover these areas. However, the parallels with Middle Bronze Syria also suggest that the Hyksos utilized those aspects of the Egyptian administration that were familiar to them from their own highly structured cultural milieu. Thus we see in the government of the foreign kings the same cultural amalgamation evinced by the material culture of Tell el-Dabʿa. Theban 16th and 17th Dynasties The administrative structure of the 16th and 17th Theban Dynasties was certainly influenced by that of the 13th Dynasty; they are essentially the successors to it. In addition, the rise of Thebes as an important administrative center during the 13th Dynasty and existence of



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a royal palace there means that when the Theban Dynasties arose the late Middle Kingdom administrative structure was already in place and—considering the probable overlap of Dynasties 13 and 16—still functioning. Indeed, the well-known Juridical Stela was erected in Karnak as a gift to Amun-Re by the 16th Dynasty King Nebiryau I, despite the fact that its content deals with provincial matters. Thebes provided the base of operations for the 16th and 17th Dynasties,74 and the kings likely controlled an area stretching from Abydos to Edfu, with a fluctuating degree of influence spreading north to Cusae and south to Elephantine. Sources and Interpretation Although our evidence is neither consistent nor universal, and sometimes cannot be dated more specifically than “late 13th–17th Dynasty”, our documentation for this period comes from a wide array of material, including stela (particularly from Abydos, Edfu and Elephantine), statuary, tombs (Elkab, Hierakonpolis and Thebes), and funerary equipment. Recent investigations into royal activity during the 17th Dynasty also brings new information about the nature of the administration during this period. Polz has suggested that the ability of the late 17th Dynasty kings to oust the Hyksos and reunify the country must have relied on “highly complex organizational, economical and political structures . . . that could not have been created ad eventum but must have already existed”.75 Undoubtedly some of these structures continued from the late Middle Kingdom. However, there do appear to be administrative changes that occur during the 17th Dynasty, suggesting that the 17th Dynasty kings reorganized their government as part of their efforts to reinforce their control over southern Egypt, ensure the loyalty of their officials, reinstate cultic activities, deal with the continued Kushite threat to the south, and at the end of the dynasty begin to turn northwards with a view towards ejecting the Hyksos rulers. A survey of the material dated either generally to the 16th/17th Dynasties or to a specific period or king reveals that a wide variety 74   The presence of royal tombs of late 13th Dynasty kings makes it all the more likely that some of the 16th Dynasty kings may have stemmed from Abydos. See D. McCormack, “The significance of royal funerary architecture for the study of Thirteenth dynasty kingship”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 69–84 and M. Marée, in: ibid., 261–66. 75  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 304 (cf. 374).

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of titles are attested, including viziers, overseers of sealed things, palace officials, temple personnel, military men, and governors (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) of various southern towns. Grajetzki notes that at the higher levels of administration several titles continue to appear, if sporadically, from the late 13th through the 17th Dynasties, while at the lower levels the range is more limited.76 The ranking title of royal sealer also continues to appear among the titulary of the highest officials, though it is also spread among a wider variety of officials in the 16th and 17th Dynasties, particularly religious and provincial.77 During the 17th Dynasty the use of the title “king’s son” (s¡ nsw) becomes prominent among a variety of officials who both did, and did not, have ties to the royal family.78 It may have functioned as a ranking title, perhaps supplanting that of royal sealer, but may also denote an administrative change. Where genealogies of officials are known, we see both hereditary positions and familial ties to the kings, sometimes jointly, and it does appear as though having a close connection to the royal court became increasingly important. In order to give a sense of how the administration functioned during this period, and whether apparent changes actually occurred, or rather represent the nature of the evidence, the following discussion has been divided into four groupings that represent the palace and central administration, provinces, religious offices, and the military. I.  Palace and Central Administration: Viziers, Overseers of Sealed Things (and King’s Sons) The vizier and overseers of sealed things continue to represent the highest civil and palace authorities attested during the 16th and 17th Dynasties. They are not equally nor continually seen, however, which could indicate either a reworking of the top echelon of administrative officials or the nature of the evidence. King’s sons have been included here as the importance of this title during the 17th Dynasty suggests, at the very least, changes in elite identification, and possibly in the administrative structure.

76   W. Grajetzki, “Notes on administration in the Second Intermediate Period”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 305–12. 77   W. Grajetzki, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 306–09. 78   B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen zum Titel zA nswt “Königssohn” (Bonn, 1976), esp. 255–57.



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A.  Viziers Although in the north the vizier had apparently little or no role to play once the 13th Dynasty came to an end and foreigners were in control of the Delta, this does not seem to be the case in the south, at least initially. Two documents, Papyrus Boulaq 18 and the “Juridical Stela” (Stèle juridique), provide evidence for the continuation of a functioning vizier’s bureau into the 16th Dynasty. The late 13th Dynasty Papyrus Boulaq 18, which documents two weeks of accounts stemming from the royal palace at Thebes, mentions the vizier in relation to a southern bureau. While not necessarily indicative of a division of the vizierate in the late Middle Kingdom, especially as the documents from Lahun also speak of a vizier’s bureau there, it does nonetheless demonstrate the existence of both a functioning royal palace and court in Thebes, complete with an office for the vizier, in the late Middle Kingdom.79 The Juridical stela relates the transfer of the Elkab governership between family members (see below), and mentions in this context the need to consult documents held in the vizier’s office. Although it concerns provincial matters, the process was undertaken before the vizier and thus provides evidence for the continuity of the office into the reign of the 16th Dynasty king Nebiryrau I, in whose first year the stela is dated.80 Two separate lines of viziers whose families straddle the late 13th and early 16th Dynasties also demonstrate the initial continuity of this office. One Ibiau was overseer of the compound (ἰmy-r ḫnrt), a position that seems to have primed one to become vizier, and subsequently became vizier under the late 13th Dynasty king Wahibre Ibia. Ibiau was followed in both positions by his son Senebhenaf, who served under king Wahibre Ibia’s successor Meneferra Ay; Senebhenaf was also the father of Queen Montuhotep, the wife of King Djhuty, who is probably one of the first 16th Dynasty kings.81 Turning to the next 79  S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 85; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 38–40. On pBoulaq 18 see A. Scharff, “Ein Rechnungsbuch des königlichen Hofes aus der 13. Dynastie”, ZÄS 57 (1922): 51–68, with transcription pl. 1**–24**. 80   P. Lacau, Une Stèle juridique de Karnak (Cairo, 1949). See the following notes for bibliography related to the discussion of the document. 81  Following the reconstruction of C. Bennett, “Genealogy and the Chronology of the Second Intermediate Period”, ÄuL 16 (2007): 231–243, esp. 236–39 and “A Geneaological Chronology of the Seventeenth Dynasty”, JARCE 39 (2002): 123–155. For a different view compare W. Grajetzki, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 206 and Court Officials, 40–41.

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line of viziers, we learn from the Juridical Stela that the Elkab governor Aya held the post of vizier from year one of Mehetepre Ini’s reign, the successor to Meneferra Ay. Aya was then succeeded as vizier by his son Iymeru, who had also been governor of Elkab. This occurred sometime before the reign of the mid-16th Dynasty king Nebiryrau I, as by his year one the governorship was still being passed down within this family, but the vizierate was not. In addition, the next vizier who served under Nebiryrau I is a man named Sobeknakht; he is the last vizier that can be certainly placed.82 After this there seems to be a break until the early New Kingdom; there are no viziers attested from the 17th Dynasty and the first known vizier of the 18th Dynasty, Imhotep, served under Thutmose I. This suggests that this office was either discontinued or significantly reduced, with its duties perhaps largely given to other officials. With regard to the vizierate administration, two things stand out from the above review. The first is that it is possible that Senebhenaf either continued to serve under Djhuty, or in fact became vizier only when his daughter became queen; in either case Senebhenaf would thus be serving as vizier of the (new) 16th Dynasty kings at Thebes. Since Aya was the next vizier of the Memphite kings, this would mean that at least during the initial period of overlap between the 13th and 16th Dynasties there may have been two viziers—Senebhenaf in the south and Aya in the north. Even if this is not the case, and these men all served consecutively, the fact that our last known vizier served a 16th Dynasty king suggests that the period covered by Senebhenaf and Aya represents a shift away from the north in terms of the vizier’s role in the central administration. In addition, it seems noteworthy that after Nebiryrau I there is no longer any certain record of a vizier serving the 16th Dynasty kings since it is likely during his reign that the 16th Dynasty began to flourish following the demise of the 13th Dynasty.83 The lack of evidence for the vizier following Nebiryrau I’s

 He was apparently of no relation to this family, despite the identical name with three of Aya’s descendants, including the owner of Elkab tomb no. 10. See C. Bennett, ÄuL 16 (2007): 239; W.V. Davies, “Renseneb and Sobeknakht of Elkab: The genealogical data”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 223–240, esp. 234–35; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 39–41, 170 and Die höchsten Beamten, 9, 32, 42, 261–63. The dating of vizier Amenemhat, known from his Theban burial equipment, is problematic. He has been placed both in the late 13th Dynasty as well as the 16th or perhaps 17th Dynasty. See W. Grajetzki, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 308. 83   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 225 with notes 16–17. 82



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reign is all the more striking given the lengthy reign of at least one of his late 16th Dynasty successors, King Bebiankh, and that the Theban palace with its vizier’s office was still functioning. Although it is possible that we are lacking evidence for additional viziers, the officials who would presumably still have been part of his administration are also missing from the record. Perhaps this indicates that a shift was taking place in how the Theban kings were structuring their central administration. It would appear that already in the late 13th Dynasty there is a shift from selecting officials from among the vizier’s administration to taking them from important provincial families. The elite status of Aya’s family is demonstrated through several members bearing the ranking title of royal sealer, indicating their inclusion within the high elite. Of further note in this regard is that several members of Aya’s extended family, reconstructed from the Elkab tombs of his greatgrandson Sobeknakht II (no. 10) and grandson Renseneb (no. 9), also held the position overseer of the gs-pr, including Aya himself. As this position is generally understood as being tied to the administration of the overseer of sealed things, or at least formed part of the economic component of the palace, this might indicate that a more direct connection between the two sectors of palace administration—civil and economic—was being formed. Also of significance is the familial connection seen here between the royal family and the viziers during the late 13th and 16th Dynasties.84 As noted above, Senebhenaf was the father-in-law of the 16th Dynasty king Djhuty, while Aya was also connected to royalty, having married two different princesses: Khonsu the daughter of Queen Nubkhas, wife of one of the late 13th Dynasty kings who ruled between the reigns of Neferhotep I and Mehetepre Ini,85 and Reditenes, possibly a daughter of Meneferra Ay.86 In addition, Aya’s son Neferhotep married a woman descended from royalty.87 We have here examples of late 13th and 16th Dynasty royalty marrying into important provincial families. These marriages would have ensured the loyalty of the viziers and their

84   As already noted by A.J. Spalinger, “Remarks on the Family of Queen Ḫ ʿ.s-nbw and the Problems of Kingship in Dynasty XIII”, RdÉ 32 (1980): 95–116, esp. 109–14. 85   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 229. 86   C. Bennett, JARCE 39 (2002): and “The King’s Daughter Reditenes”, GM 151 (1996): 18–22. 87   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 228–29 with fig. 4.

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extended families to their kings during a tumultuous time, and in the case of Senebhenaf may have played a role in the transition from 13th northern Dynasty to 16th southern Dynasty. The fact that the office became hereditary during this period also demonstrates the power that these families achieved due to these marriages. B.  Overseer of Sealed Things In contrast to the office of the vizier described above, the known overseers of sealed things date only to the end of the 17th Dynasty, specifically Teti who served under Nubkheperre Antef and Neshi who served under Kamose.88 However, officials who formed part of his administration, including high stewards, overseers of sealers, and king’s acquaintances, are known from the 16th Dynasty.89 We know from Papyrus Boulaq 18, which documents how the Theban palace functioned during the late 13th Dynasty, that there was a “double treasury” (prwy-ḥ ḏ), which if not controlled by the overseer of sealed things, was certainly closely connected to his administration. From this we can perhaps assume that we are missing the evidence for the overseers of sealed things during the 16th and earlier 17th Dynasty. This seems all the more likely given the clear importance of these men to their kings in the 17th Dynasty. The overseer of sealers Iahnefer is depicted following Nubkheperre Intef on his stela, while the tomb chapel of the overseer of sealed things Teti, who also served under Nubkheperre Antef, was placed directly adjacent to the pyramid tomb of his king.90 Both of these men also bore the ranking title of royal sealer (ḫtmty bἰty). Neshi was the overseer of sealed things under Kamose, bore several elite ranking titles, including royal sealer, and appears on the Second Kamose stela, which he was in charge of erecting for his king.91 The clearly honored status of these officials demonstrates that this office retained a high level of importance through the 17th Dynasty.

  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 65–66 and Die höchsten Beamten, 262 n. 4.   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 80–83, 171–74 and Die höchsten Beamten, 43, 79–80, 178, 261–63. 90  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 85–6, 242–43 and Katalog no. 49. 91   Luxor Museum J.43; L. Habachi, The Second Stela of Kamose and his Struggle against the Hyksos Ruler and his Capital (Glückstadt, 1972), for Neshi see 44, 50, 56–7. 88 89



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Among the officials dating to this period who would have formed part of the overseer of sealed things’ administration we know of overseers of sealers, high stewards, overseers of the gs-pr, overseers of marshland dwellers, and king’s acquaintances (rḫ nswt). Many also bore the title royal sealer. Some of these men are clearly dated to the 16th Dynasty, such as the high steward Neferhotep, depicted in the tomb of Sobeknakht at Elkab (tomb no. 10).92 This same Sobeknakht, who was governor of Elkab, was also titled as an overseer of the gs-pr, and given the elite ranking title of royal sealer.93 Others, such as the overseer of the gs-pr Nacht, are stylistically dated to this period; Nacht’s statuette from Abydos falls in the artistic oeuvre dated by Marée to the early 16th Dynasty.94 From the late 13th or possibly 16th Dynasty (reign of Sewahenre Senebmiu) the overseer of marshland dwellers Senebni was also a royal sealer and king’s acquaintance. His burial equipment, found in Thebes, includes a gilded black coffin, attesting to his high status.95 From Dynasty 17 we have the overseer of marshland dwellers Aamu (reign of Sekhemre-shedtawy Sobekemsaf ), whose graffito in the Wadi Hammamat also provides evidence for the continued role of this department in procuring items for the palace.96 C.  King’s Sons During the late 13th Dynasty the king’s son title began to be used for officials given particular duties, principally military officials stationed at forts and garrisons, indicating both the level of their connection to the king, and presumably that they were responsible directly to him.97 This function seems to have carried over into the 16th and 17th Dynasties, when this title is attested with great frequency for individuals who were not likely to have been actual princes. The officials who bear it come from a variety of administrative areas: priests, governors, overseers of the gs-pr, and especially garrison commanders

  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 80, 132.   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 229 with n. 38. 94  Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 246 (v), 258–61, 274. This is also the case for the high steward Khonsumes, whose canopic box is stylistically 16th–17th Dynasty. 95   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 83 and Die höchsten Beamten, 180. 96   W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 180. 97   B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen, 186–89, 255–57. 92 93

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and other members of the military.98 Polz views the use of the king’s son title as part of a process carried out by the 17th Dynasty kings which sought to create their government along the lines of a “family business”,99 conferring it on men who were not affiliated to the royal family in order to create a sense of kinship. In this vein, we might see the bestowal of the title king’s son as indicative of the need for these kings to garner support from their elites, and thus representing more of a ranking title—in this case demonstrating an official’s loyalty and nearly royal status—than one conferring particular duties. Even if we view the title as denoting loyal officials, however, this does not necessarily mean that it did not give the bearer an increased level of authority, akin to what an actual prince might have. This interpretation is particularly suggested by the title’s ubiquitous use in the titulary of garrison commanders throughout the area of Theban control during this period. These officials represent Egypt’s defense against both the Hyksos and the Kushites and as such would have needed the ability to make decisions on the king’s behalf. Presumably an official bearing the title of king’s son would demonstrate to their subordinates that their orders were to be followed. This combination of rank and function might also be seen in in the titulary of the newly created post of “king’s son, overseer of southern foreign lands”—the viceroy for Egyptian controlled Nubia. The full title is attested already by the end of Ahmose’s reign, suggesting that the two men—Teti and Djhuty— bearing simply the title “king’s son” from the reigns of Kamose and Ahmose, and who are mentioned with their kings on graffiti from Toshka and Arminna, might have been early viceroys.100 These officials would have administered newly re-acquired lands in what was still

98  See D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 37, 42, 47–50, 52–55, Kat. 3, 4, 17, 50, 66; M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 267; W. Grajetzki, Der höchsten Beamten, IV.18, XII.18, XII.47. 99  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 58, 305. 100  See most recently T. Bács, “A New Viceroy of Nubia”, in: A Tribute to Excellence. Studies Presented to Ernõ Gaál, Ulrich Luft, László Török, T.A. Bács, ed. (Budapest, 2002), 53–67, esp. 53 with n. 4, 56; A.J. Spalinger, “Covetous Eyes South: The Background to Egypt’s domination over Nubia by the Reign of Thutmose III”, in: Thutmose III. A New Biography, E.H. Cline and D. O’Connor, eds. (Ann Arbor, 2006), 344–369, esp. 346 sq., 351, 353 where he calls them “proto-viceroy”. The likelihood of these men being viceroys is perhaps increased by the fact that the shortened version “king’s son” was sometimes used by subsequent viceroys like Ahmose Tjuro, who held the post during the reign of Amenhotep I. Contra this see L. Török, Between Two Worlds, 111, 171.



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partially hostile territory. Thus, even more than the garrison commanders, they would have needed to be seen as the king’s chosen representative, which the title king’s son would certainly denote. Finally, although Polz suggests that the king’s sons largely took on the duties of both the viziers and the overseers of sealed things during the 17th Dynasty,101 as we have seen, the overseers of sealed things continue to be a part of the 16th and 17th Dynasty administration. While this does not seem to be the case for the viziers, nor do the known king’s sons appear to replace them in toto. For example, the king’s son Imeni, who was also a commander of the ruler’s crew, was an actual prince.102 Thus the fact that he was sent to oversee the renewal of cultic activities at the temple of Min at Coptos should perhaps be viewed as an indicator of the importance that the 17th Dynasty kings placed on this activity, rather than as an instance of a king’s son carrying out a traditionally vizieral function. Summation The administrative areas discussed here indicate that during the 16th and 17th Dynasty the Theban kings largely carried forward the economic administrative structure of the palace seen in the late 13th Dynasty. However, while the department of overseer of sealed things seems to have continued, it would appear that the actual practice of sealing goods did not, or at the very least continued only in a reduced form. For example, while the late 13th Dynasty high stewards are largely known from sealings, during the 16th and 17th Dynasty seals are basically unknown, suggesting that the role of sealing within the administrative structure declined. This is also supported by the evidence from Elephantine, where the presence of sealings in the archaeological record drops off rapidly following the 12th Dynasty.103 This seems to indicate that the Theban kings utilized some other—as yet unknown—method of tracking commodities.104 The central administration, as represented by the vizier and his office, does not seem to have continued beyond the early 16th Dynasty. The timing of the last securely dateable vizier to the reign of Nebiryrau I  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 305 sq.  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 52–55. 103   C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII. Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit (Mainz, 1996), 253–54. 104  So also D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 307. 101 102

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and the marital connection between the vizierate families and the kings of the late 13th and 16th Dynasties seems significant as it is likely around Nebiryrau’s reign that we see the final demise of Dynasty 13 and the rise of Thebes and its kings as the full successors of the Egyptian state. The two would seem to be connected, suggesting that while the kings initially needed the support of the viziers coming from the provincial elite, they may eventually have become too powerful, necessitating a change not just in who held the post—as perhaps happened in the transition from Senebhenaf to Aya—but also in the existence of the position. It is also possible, however, that the traditional role of the vizier was not needed by the Theban kings, who were ruling a much smaller area, and the duties that once fell under his administration were parceled out to other officials. While the vizier’s duties do not seem to have been completely taken over by particular king’s sons, officials bearing this title do seem to occur more often, and over a wider range of officials than previously, suggesting that the Theban kings conferred this title as a way of cementing loyalty throughout different areas of their administration. In this vein it is significant that the vizierate was only reinstituted once circumstances required—in the early 18th Dynasty when the country was once again unified and the Theban kings needed an effective means—and an official—to impart their rule in the north. This idea is perhaps supported by the use of “king’s son” in the title of the newly created post of “king’s son, overseer of southern foreign lands”—the viceroy for Nubia. Since it was to the south that the Theban kings needed to immediately impart their rule the implementation of the viceroy as the king’s representative there came before the reinstitution of the vizier. The vizier’s role in overseeing civil and provincial administration was only required once Egypt’s borders were relatively secure and attention could be more fully turned inwards. II.  Provinces: Governors and Garrison Commanders During the 16th and 17th Dynasties Thebes was the royal center and the towns stretching from Abydos in the north to Elephantine in the south formed the provincial area under the Theban kings’ sphere of influence. Towns within this sphere became important military and economic centers, including some that are not particularly well attested in the Middle Kingdom. At several towns the installation of garrison commanders in addition to governors, or one official holding both titles, indicates a general militarization of the provinces. This was



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certainly due to the threat posed by both the Kushites to the south and the Hyksos to the north. In addition, provincial families played significant roles not only in provincial government, but in the central administration as well. As Grajetzki notes, during this period there was a “close connection of provincial courts to the king’s court at Thebes.”105 This may relate to a need of 16th and especially 17th Dynasty kings to be sure of loyalty among their highest officials and the men who were their representatives outside of Thebes. The connection between the provinces and the royal court is demonstrated by some governors of southern towns marrying princesses and others holding titles that connect them to the central as well as provincial administration. In addition, it would appear that governors were assigned important tasks, underscoring the reliance of the kings on these officials. It was noted above that the title overseer of the gs-pr was held by officials connected to the overseer of sealed things. When functioning outside the royal palace, it has been suggested that overseers of the gs-pr should be seen as managers of royal estates in the provinces. In addition, holding this title could be directly connected to an official’s ability to become governor, as overseer of the gs-pr is commonly attested in the titulary of governors.106 If this is correct, then it would also demonstrate the connection between royal and provincial courts. However, it seems equally possible that this title could be seen as part of a governor’s duties—overseeing production in his town, and the distributing of items locally, as well as to the royal palace. All of the features just delineated are present in the family of governors from Elkab that straddled the 13th and 16th Dynasties. As noted above, the late 13th Dynasty viziers Aya and his son Iymeru were also governors of Elkab; Aya was additionally overseer of the gs-pr and married two princesses. At Elkab, as elsewhere, the position of governor was hereditary. The family of Aya is documented through both the Juridical Stela and the Elkab tombs of Sobeknakht (no. 10) and Renseneb (no. 9), and the information provided therein demonstrates the long control that this family had over the governorship. From Aya the governorship passed in a direct line through five more generations,

  W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 41.   W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 201–02; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux,

105 106

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and was held by seven different members of the family, several of whom were also designated as overseer of the gs-pr. The Elkab governorship was thus retained by one family from the reign of Merhotepre Ini of late Dynasty 13 into the 17th Dynasty. This end date is suggested by an inscription in Sobeknkht’s tomb, from which we learn that his family was displaced in their position during the reign of Ahmose, who appointed an entirely new individual—one Sobekhotep—as governor of Elkab. During the reign of Amenhotep I Sobekhotep passed the post to his son Reneny, owner of tomb no. 7 at Elkab.107 The presence of Aya’s family as governors through the fall of the 13th Dynasty until the end of the 17th suggests that the 16th and 17th Dynasty kings recognized the important role that strong provincial families could play in governing and defending the area under their control. For example, an inscription in Sobeknakht’s tomb touts his role in dealing with a Kushite raid by shoring up Elkab’s defenses and journeying southwards with troops to fight—and defeat—the Nubians.108 The governor of Koptos under Nubkheppere Antef was Minemhat, who, like Sobeknakht II, was also entrusted with special tasks by his king. The Koptos Decree of Nubkheperre Antef, demonstrates the role of the governor, royal sealer and overseer of the gs-pr, Minemhat, in supporting the administration of justice following a theft from the Min temple.109 He may also have been charged with building a chapel within the Min temple at Koptos. Minemhat is likewise known from his stela in the chapel at Gebel Zeit, attesting to his role in carrying out an expedition for his king to this mining region.110 At Abydos, a late 13th Dynasty mayor of Wah-Sut married the princess Reniseneb, and Wegner has suggested that this happened under the governorship of Sehetepib, who was contemporary with the reigns of Neferhotep I through Menefferre Ay.111 The close connection   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 237.   W.V. Davies, “Sobeknakht of Elkab and the coming of Kush.” EA 23 (Autumn, 2003), 3–6, esp. 5–6 and “Egypt and Nubia: Conflict with the Kingdom of Kush”, in: Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh, C. Roehrig, ed. (New York/New Haven/London, 2005), 49–59, esp. 49–50. 109   On the decree, see most recently, K. Goebs, “ḫftj nṯr as Euphemism: The Case of the Antef Decree”, JEA 89 (2003), 27–37. 110  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 42–45, 73–74, 94, Kat. 53. 111   J. Wegner, “Social and Historical Implications of Sealings of the King’s daughter Reniseneb and other Women at the Town of Wah-Sut”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC from Egypt, Nubia, Crete and the Levant, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, ed., 221–240. Sehepteibre represents the last in a line of governors attested through 107 108



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between Abydos and the royal court at this time continued through the rise of the 16th Dynasty at Thebes. The presence of a sculpture workshop dating to the late 16th or early 17th Dynasties attests to its continued importance as does the likelihood that at least three kings— Rahotep, Wepwawetemsaf and Patjeny—were of Thinite origin.112 In addition, Abydos had a strategically important position for accessing trade routes and as northern barrier to the Hyksos.113 Thus we see that the governor (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ ἰmy-r ḥ wt-nṯr) during the reign of Rahhotep, or perhaps later, was one Kwmes who was also garrison commander of Abydos (ṯsw n jwʿy n ¡bḏw) and bore the title of king’s son, attesting to his elevated status.114 Kwmes’ father, the scribe of divine offerings Wepwaut-iri, was one of a number of officials who appear on the stela of the chamberlain (ἰmy ḫnt) Sankhptah, who was entrusted by Rahotep to undertake restoration work at the Osiris temple at Abydos.115 Whether Sankhptah was a royal or local official is uncertain, but in either case he was there on the king’s orders. Although garrison commanders (ṯsw) were certainly a part of the military, their presence at several key towns in Upper Egypt, and the fact that several of them were also designated as governors of their towns, attests to their newfound role as part of the provincial government during the late 16th and 17th Dynasties. Abydos, Thebes and Tod were all under the authority of officials who bore both titles—governor and garrison commander, while Koptos had a governor and a different garrison commander, and Edfu and Elephantine seem to have had only garrison commanders. Although there is not a known garrison commander for Elkab, it is clear that the governor was expected to play a role in defending his city and assisting in the king’s campaigns. As noted above, the fact that many of these men were also designated as king’s sons indicates yet again the importance of strengthening ties between the Theban kings and their provincial representatives. What their seals that began with the founding of the town under Senwosret III. Among the royal seals, there are two attestations of the 16th Dynasty king Sewadjenre Nebiryau I, both from disturbed contexts, suggesting at least a rough end point for the Senwosret III complex. See J. Wegner, The Mortuary Complex of Senwosret III at Abydos (New Haven/Philadelphia, 2007), 41–42, 315. 112  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 261, 265 sqq. 113   King Bebiankh of mid-Dynasty 13 is attested at the Red Sea coast. 114  D. Franke, “An important family from Abydos of the Seventeenth Dynasty”, JEA 71 (1975), 175–176. 115  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 261, 265 sqq. See also D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 63.

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these officials and their subordinates reveal about the 16th and 17th Dynasty military administration will be discussed below. Finally, it is worth noting that the governors seem to have run their local administration in much the same way as during the late 13th Dynasty. (For changes to the religious institutions at the local level, see below). The lack of significant changes at the local level may be due in part to the hereditary control of the governorship in some towns. This continuity would have assisted in a smooth transition locally even as political events at the royal level were changing. Biographies from this period indicate that, as in the First Intermediate Period, the local elite took a degree of responsibility for providing for those connected to their households.116 However, the fact that kings of the 16th and 17th Dynasty continued to appear on private stelae demonstrates that the provincial elite of this period worked alongside their kings in providing for their towns, especially as they were entrusted with other important tasks, as noted above for Minemhat of Koptos and Sobeknakht of Elkab. A degree of continuity in provincial governance is also suggested by the well-executed tombs of men like Sobeknakht and his contemporary Horemkhauf at Hierakonpolis,117 and in the hundreds of stelae known from this period, from Abydos and elsewhere. These reveal that the wide range of craftsmen and artisans known from the Middle Kingdom continued to provide statues, stelae and funerary objects for both the elite and their kings. That workshops like those at Abydos and elsewhere used locally available materials as their dominant source suggests that while quarries were being operated under the 16th and 17th Dynasty kings (perhaps under the aegis of the governors?), the organizational ability to procure materials from further afield was limited to the kings and thus used only to create monuments for royalty and, perhaps, the highest elite.118

116  See in general S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, passim. For a useful English summary of the main points see S. Kubisch, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., passim. 117   W.V. Davies, “The dynastic tombs at Hierakonpolis: the lower group and the artist Sedjemnetjeru”, in: Colour and Painting in Ancient Egypt, W.V. Davies, ed. (London, 2001), 113–125, esp. 119 ff. 118  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 258. Inscriptions and monuments left in, e.g., the Wadi Hammamat and Gebel Zeit, provide evidence of the expeditions undertaken by 16th and 17th Dynasty kings.



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Summation From the above it would seem that for most of the 16th and 17th Dynasty the Theban kings made use of the growing strength of provincial officials rather than trying to control them. It is only towards the end of this period that we begin to see appointments of new families and the militarization of key centers. Both of these likely occurred as a result of the continued threat presented by the Kushites and the growing threat of the Hyksos. It would seem that the 16th and 17th Dynasty kings endeavored to create a sense of loyalty among the provincial elite by tying them more closely to the royal court through appointment, marriage, and the bestowing of titles such as “king’s son”. It is also possible that the difficult titles great one of 10s of Upper Egypt (wr mdw Šmʿw) and mouth of Nekhen (r Nḫn; sometimes with s¡b preceding it) represent another connection to the royal court. These have generally been understood as ranking titles possibly pertaining to the vizier’s office,119 which as we have seen does not seem to have functioned after the early 16th Dynasty. The prevalence of these titles on stelae of the Second Intermediate Period, as seen, for example, at Abydos,120 suggests that during this period they were either functioning on a local level as part of the governor’s court, or as representatives of the royal court. The end result of this process of instilling loyalty among the provincial elite can be seen in the ability of the last 17th Dynasty kings to present a united front against the Kushites and Hyksos, simultaneously creating a power base from which to begin to rebuild newly reunified Egypt.

119  S. Quirke, in: Archaism and Innovation, D.P. Silverman, W.K. Simpson, J. Wegner, ed., passim; W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 17–18, 69, 144 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 310. But see J. Wegner, Mortuary Complex, 353, 358, for the inclusion of great one of 10s of Upper Egypt among the military titles. 120  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., has seven stelae belonging to individuals titled “chief of 10s of Upper Egypt” (a, g, h, i, m, n, p), as well as one stela (c) and one statuette (am) whose owners were titled “mouth of Nekhen”, while these titles are held by other individuals (not the primary owner) on three stela (g, z, ad). In regard to a military connection, it is worth noting that the mouth of Nekhen Rai (stela c) was the son of the commander of the ruler’s crew Sobekhotep (stela d), and brother-in-law to Bebi, another commander of the ruler’s crew (stela b); see M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 267–68.

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III.  Religious Offices The majority of our documentation for the temple sector during the 16th and 17th Dynasties comes from stelae, predominantly from Abydos and Edfu. The temples at these sites, along with those at Koptos and Medamud, saw renewed cultic activity during this time. From this material we see that there was certainly continuity from the late Middle Kingdom, and while there are also new and a greater number of religious titles attested, it is unclear if this represents a burgeoning of personnel or the nature of the evidence, which comes from important cultic sites. The inclusion of temple personnel among officials on royal decrees, or depicted with their king, as well as the presence of the ranking title royal sealer among their titulary indicates both the elevated status of these men and that they formed part of the top echelon of administrative officials. Polz has suggested that the renewal of cultic activities was of primary concern for the 17th Dynasty kings.121 While this may have resulted in strengthening ties between the religious and civil administration, it seems equally possible that, rather than temple administration having increased royal oversight, a higher degree of authority was granted at the local level. Among the temple sector titles attested for the 16th and 17th Dynasties we have those pertaining both to the cult and the administration, from a variety of levels: temple overseers, temple scribes, scribes and cultivators ( jḥ wtj) of divine offerings, scribes of the divine seal (ḫtmt nṯr), masters of foodbearers (ḥ ry wb¡wt); high priests (ḥ m-nṯr tpy), as well as ḥ m-nṯr, ẖry-ḥ bt, wnwt, sm¡ and wʿb priests, and overseers of singers. The diversity represented by these titles suggests that in general cultic life at these temples continued largely unaffected by the political events of the period. Some of the more well-attested deities include Osiris, Min, Onuris, Mont, Sobek, Anubis, and Khonsu, perhaps indicative of the importance of the towns or regions with which they were associated, and certainly attesting to the continuation of cult practices in the area under the Theban rulers’ control.122

 D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, Ch. 2 on royal building activity, summation 111–14, 305 (cf. 375). See also K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 309. 122   The towns include those of Abydos, Coptos, Tod, and Medamud, as well as the Thinite region and the region between Riziequat and Gebelein; for the latter see D. Franke, “‘When the sun goes down . . .’—Early solar hymns on a pyramidion stela from the reign of Sekhemra-shedtawy Sobekemsaf ”, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 283–302, esp. 295–96. 121



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However, there are indications that changes did take place within the temple administration. Grajetzki has noted that during the late Middle Kingdom the temples begin to take on a national, rather than simply local, character. This is seen in the gradual development of officials who can be understood to have functioned as high priests, either through the specificity of their title or by bearing the ranking title “royal sealer” in addition to their “ḥm-nṯr of God X” title.123 By the end of the 17th Dynasty the title of high priest as it is known in the New Kingdom—literally first god’s servant (ḥ m-nṯr tpy)—has developed. The connection between royal sealer and the high priest may be further supported by the additional titles held by the first known high priests, Djhuty (reign of Ahmose) and Minmont called Senires (Ahmose-Amenhotep I): Djhuty was also an overseer of sealers, while Minmont is a royal sealer.124 It also appears that the ḥ m-nṯr priest held a relatively high level of status among temple personnel. At least one priest, probably at the Osiris temple at Abydos, was an actual king’s son—the ḥ m-nṯr Sobekemsaef, son of Sechemre Wadjchau Sobekemsaef,125 and it seems possible that he might have functioned as a high priest as well. In addition, a ḥ m-nṯr of Khnum at Elephantine erected and equipped his own small sanctuary; the ability to do this certainly suggests that he was a wealthy and important individual.126 There is also a noticeable increase in officials with exclusively religious titles, particularly at the lower levels of the temple hierarchy. While it is possible that this attests to a burgeoning of temple personnel, perhaps in response to the changing role of the temple, it may also be a factor of the data, which is skewed towards stelae from sites with important temples. During the 16th and 17th Dynasties we also have other temple officials who bear the royal sealer title, particularly temple scribes (sš ḥ wtnṯr). For example, in the Koptos decree of Nubkhepperre Antef the sm¡-priest of Min, royal sealer and temple scribe Neferhotep is listed as

123   W. Grajetzki, Court Officials, 97–98 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 309–10. 124   C. Barbotin, Âhmosis et le début de la XVIIIe dynastie (Paris, 2008), 106 sqq.; D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 149–55, 280–82, 298; S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun” in der 18. Dynastie (Hamburg, 2000), nos. 561 and 247. However, it is possible that by the reign of Amenhotep I the ranking title royal sealer should already be considered as one of several, with less significance than it carried previously. 125  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 47–50, Kat. 4. 126   C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, 149–61.

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the third official—after the governor and garrison commander—who should be notified of the investigation into a theft at the Min temple. As this was a mid-level position during the Middle Kingdom, Franke suggests that this is indicative of a change in status for the temple scribe, and that the 16th and 17th Dynasty role of this official was as the head of the temple administration.127 This would imply that we understand that the position of overseer of priests (ἰmy-r ḥmw-nṯr), which was held by governors, was theirs in recognition of their general role as the head of the entire city—civil and religious areas together, but did not necessarily carry with it any type of actual duties. This may or may not be the case, but that the temple scribes did seem to enjoy an elevated status is also suggested by a pyramidion stele of the scribe of the temple of Sobek, Anubis and Khonsu named Sobekhotep. His stela was a gift from king Sekhemre-shedtawy Sobekemsaf, and both his wife and mother are called ẖkrt-nswt, demonstrating the family’s elite status.128 Summation The above review indicates that during the 16th and 17th Dynasties the temple administration, both secular and priestly, generally continues from what was seen in the late Middle Kingdom. Although there is an increase in the number of individuals who report only religious titles, this could be a function of the evidence, rather than an indication of administrative changes. The presence of the ranking title royal sealer in the titulary of some temple personnel suggests that these individuals were being granted a level of authority on par with governors or other representatives of the king. This may indicate that the temple was moving out of provincial control, achieving a greater degree of local autonomy, while at the same time becoming more closely aligned with the royal court. Nubkhepere Antef’s Coptos decree, in which the temple priests call on the king for assistance in investigating a temple theft, rather than the governor, could represent such a change. Based on his study of royal 17th Dynasty monuments, as well as those on which kings appear or are mentioned, Polz has suggested that during the 17th Dynasty there was an intentional emphasis on  D. Franke, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 295.  D. Franke, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 295.

127 128



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renewing or reinstating cult activities, particularly during the first half of the 17th Dynasty.129 The increased authority given to temple personnel during this period could perhaps be seen in this context. However, the job was not theirs alone. Other officials—both military and civil, and some bearing the title king’s son—were also entrusted with carrying out some of the tasks related to this effort. For example, under Sekhemre-wadjhu Sobekemsaf the king’s son and commander of the ruler’s crew Imeni (likely an actual king’s son) was charged with renewing cultic activities at the temple of Min at Coptos,130 while as already noted the chamberlain Sankhptah was involved with the restoration of the Osiris temple under Rahotep. Finally, it should be noted that the attention paid to temple and cult during the 17th Dynasty may also reflect the need to remedy damage caused by Kushite, and perhaps Hyksos, incursions into Theban held territory. For example, it is likely that during this period the Khnum temple at Elephantine was destroyed.131 The 16th Dynasty stela of Ikhynofret Neferhotep describes hostile interactions with the ḫ¡stjw, apparently in Thebes itself, though the identity of these foreigners is not precisely stated.132 New temple constructions were also commissioned to celebrate Egyptian victories in battle, as seen in the inscription in Sobeknakht II’s tomb at Elkab,133 and implied by the Medamud temple relief of Sekhemre-wadjhu Sobekemsaf in which he has “thrown down vile Kush”.134 Thus, we could say that the early 17th Dynasty kings were cementing their power by ensuring the continuity of the cult areas under their control via temple building, royal cultic activity, and expanding the role and type of personnel charged with carrying out the king’s religious program.

 D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 112–14, 305.  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 52–55, 306, Kat. 3, 17. 131  D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib auf Elephantine: Geschichte eines Provinzheiligtums im Mittleren Reich (Heidelberg, 1994), 82–3. See also S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 111–112. 132  Stela JE 59635; see P. Vernus, “La stèle du roi Sekhemsankhtaouyrê Neferhotep Iykhernofret et la domination Hyksôs (stèle Caire JE 59635)”, ASAE 68 (1974): 129–135. 133   W.V. Davies, EA 23 (2003): 6. 134   [s]ḥrt K¡š. F. Bisson de la Roque, Rapport sur les fouilles de Médamud (1929) (Cairo: FIFAO 7, 1930), 96–97, fig. 87, pl. 10. See also D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 77, Kat 5 and D. Franke, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 298. 129 130

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IV.  Military With regard to military administration and organization during the 16th and 17th Dynasties two points are abundantly clear. First, there was an increasing militarization of the provinces, as already noted above. Second, in order for Kamose and Ahmose to successfully defeat and oust the Hyksos while at the same time containing and pushing back the Kushite southern threat, a coherent and strong military structure must have been in place. That this structure existed in some form already in the 16th Dynasty is demonstrated by the recently discovered inscription in the tomb of Sobeknakht at Elkab (see above). However, the fact that Sobeknakht clearly played a role in mustering troops and bringing them to his king’s aid demonstrates the largely provincial nature of the military during the 16th Dynasty, a trait that follows from what we see within Egypt during the Middle Kingdom. In the Middle Kingdom levies and conscriptions were the main way in which the army ranks were filled, although Nubian and Asiatic mercenaries were also an important component. By the end of the 17th and early 18th Dynasties however, the beginnings a professional, one might say national, military was already developing, with titular princes often at its head, and what would become a military class of officials was forming.135 The majority of our information about the military during the 16th and 17th Dynasties comes from stelae, mostly from Abydos and Edfu, but also from other sites in southern Egypt and Nubia. From the end of 17th-early 18th Dynasties royal and private inscriptions detailing the wars with the Hyksos and Kushites provide additional information on the nature of the military during this time. A survey of these documents indicates that their owners represent not just the elite of the military, but simple soldiers as well. For example, among the Middle Kingdom titles attested for the 16th and 17th Dynasties are those that certainly represent the upper echelon of military officials: (great) overseer of troops (ἰmy-r mšʿ (wr)), commander of the ruler’s crew (¡ṯw n ṯt ḥ q¡), commander of a ship’s contingent (ḥ ry ẖnywt), and garrison commanders (ṯsw (n jwʿy)). From the middle and lower

135   A. Gnirs, “War and Society in Ancient Egypt”, in: War and Society in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds, K. Raaflaub and N. Rosenstein, eds. (Cambridge, 1999), 2–73, esp. 22 sqq. and Militär und Gesellschaft. Ein Beitrag zur Sozialgeschichte des Neuen Reiches (Heidelberg, 1996), 2 sqq.



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levels are attested titles such as soldier of the town regiment (ʿnḫ n nἰwt), follower (šmsw), (great) warrior (ʿḥ ¡wtj or kfʿ (ʿ¡)) and soldier (ʿnḫ or wʿw). For titles such as “follower”, “warrior” and “soldier”, we occasionally find “of the ruler” or “of his lord” accompanying them. This may indicate that these men were part of a particular body of men attached to the ruler, or the palace,136 but may also simply be used to denote that they were present with the king in battle, as they did in the 18th Dynsty. There are several indications that during the 16th and 17th Dynasties the size of the military expanded and its officials began to take on a higher degree of social status. As noted above, the number of garrisons at towns throughout southern Egypt increased. The presence of these garrisons implies that there was a level of permanency attached to being in the military. While levies and conscriptions certainly continued, particularly in the 16th Dynasty, the garrisons—especially those which were placed in border zones with the Hyksos and Kushites— would have no doubt required a basic complement of men. Further attesting to the increase in military numbers is the rise in stelae belonging to military officials at all levels. For example, among the 40 objects discussed by Marée as part of the late 16th/early 17th Dynasty workshop at Abydos, 27 preserve the full title of the individual, and of these nearly a quarter (six objects) belong to military officials—three commanders’ of the ruler’s crew and three soldiers of the town regiment.137 From the end of the 17th Dynasty, stelae from Edfu and Buhen document the exploits of men who call themselves simply “warriors” on the campaigns against the Hyksos and Kushites.138 Grajetzki has noted that military titles are among the most attested title groups during the later Second Intermediate Period.139 While one could argue that the rise in titles stems from the stelae being largely from garrison towns, it seems rather that all three items—the increase in military 136   Compare D. Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles in the Period of the Middle Kingdom: Dossiers (London, 2006), 95–124 and C. Vogel, Ägyptische Festungen und Garnisonen bis zum Ende des Mittleren Reiches (Hildesheim, 2004), 104–05. 137  M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., passim. Roughly a third of the objects belong either to men titled “chief of 10s of UE” (7 objects), or “mouth of Nekhen” (3 objects), neither of which is well understood, and another 6 objects belong to temple personnel; the remainder are civil personnel; see note 119 above. 138  S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 88–92 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 325. 139   W. Grajetzki, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 310.

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titles and stelae commissioned by military officials as well as the presence of garrisons in various southern Egyptian towns—indicate a general expansion of the military during this period. A rise in the social status for military officials can be seen in several ways. As noted above, garrison commanders were often placed in charge not only of a garrison, but also served as governor of the town in which they were stationed, and many of them bore the ranking title of king’s son. In addition, documents such as the Coptos Decree (see above) suggest that the garrison commander was one of the most important officials within a town. The king’s son title is attested not just for garrison commanders, but also for other military officials during this period, including the great overseer of troops and royal sealer Herunefer, overseer of archers Nacht, commanders of the ruler’s crew Imeni and Nebsen, overseer of the army (ἰmy-r mšʿ n ἰty) Msaef, and follower of his lord Tjuju. At least two of these men— Herunefer and Imeni—were probably actual princes of the late 16th or early 17th Dynasties, and their presence within the military may also represent the beginning of the New Kingdom practice of princes serving within or at the head of the military (also attested in the Middle Kingdom). Among officials who did not bear the king’s son title we also find evidence for an increase in status. One commander of the ruler’s crew in the late 16th or early 17th Dynasty was Bebi, whose wife and mother-in-law were both ẖkrt nswt; his brother-in-law and father-in-law were likewise commanders of the ruler’s crew.140 The title of the women in this family, as well as the inheritance of such a high level position, indicate the elite status of the men. During the Middle Kingdom the job of mustering troops was largely a provincial affair. The continuation of this practice into the 16th Dynasty is demonstrated by the tomb inscription of the governor of Elkab Sobeknakht (see above). However, the increasing frequency with which Kushite raids were occurring in Theban territory, as well as the later 17th Dynasty kings’ turning their attention north to the Hyksos, would have necessitated a build-up of a more regular army. The stela inscription of the first king’s son (s¡ nswt tpj) Sobeknakht, may demonstrate just such a practice, as it documents Sobeknakht’s role in sending 100 men to be part of the elite of the army, and depicts at the

 M. Marée, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 267–68.

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bottom two soldiers, one labeled as a great warrior.141 The beginning of a regular army is perhaps the context in which inscriptions such as that of the famous Ahmose son-of-Ibana should be seen. A soldier’s son, Ahmose worked his way up the military ranks, eventually becoming commander of a ship’s contingent under Thutmose I, a career that, as Davies states, “brought rewards and prosperity, advancing his family’s social and political interests”.142 The development of the military and its rising prominence during the late 17th Dynasty can perhaps also be seen in the role that civilian officials played during this period. For example, the stela of the high steward Emheb recounts his participation on campaign with Kamose in year 3 as a drummer,143 while Ahmose Pennekheb was a soldier through the reign of Thutmose I and only after his military service became an important official in the administration, serving as first royal herald (wḥ mw tpy nswt) and overseer of the seal (ἰmy-r ḫtm).144 Summation During the Middle Kingdom some military titles were more closely associated with the palace and others with the provinces, and while this seems to continue through the 16th Dynasty, by the end of the 17th a clearer military hierarchy was developing that was, at least partially, separate from both the palace and the provincial administration. Indeed, the fact that most of our documentation dealing with the military or military activities comes from the 17th Dynasty may reflect the reorganization of the military structure and the rise of a military elite. Certainly during the early 18th Dynasty the military and careers

 S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 91, 94, 110, 339–41.   W.V. Davies, “The tomb of Ahmose Son-of-Ibana at Elkab. Documenting the family and other observations”, in: Elkab and Beyond. Studies in Honour of Luc Limme, W. Claes, H. de Meulenaere and S. Hendrickx, eds. (Leuven/Paris/Walpol, 2009), 139–175, quote p. 146. See also JJ Shirley, “What’s in a Title? Military and Civil Officials in the Egyptian 18th Dynasty Military Sphere”, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel: History, Imperialism, Ideology and Literature, S. Bar, D. Kahn and JJ Shirley, eds. (Leiden/Boston, 2011), 293–321, esp. 294–95. Ahmose’s father was a soldier under Seqenenre Tao. 143  S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 90–91, 238–44 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 325. Cf. K.S.B. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt, 182–83. See also J. Baines, “The Stela of Emhab: Innovation, Tradition, Hierarchy”, JEA 72 (1986): 41–53. 144  See JJ Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, S. Bar, D. Kahn and JJ Shirley, eds., 292 n. 6. 141 142

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within it were beginning to gain equal distinction with their civilian counterparts. The rise of the Hyksos in the north and Kushites in the south was central to these developments. Although more attention has been paid to the battles with the former—understandably given the nature of the evidence—it now seems that in fact it was Kush who posed the most immediate, and constant, threat to Theban sovereignty in the south. The presence of garrisons south of Thebes certainly speaks to this, as does the inscription of Sobeknakht in his Elkab tomb. In addition, it is clear that the Middle Kingdom fortresses in Lower Nubia were ruled by the Kushites during this period, and while some Egyptians fled north to the garrison at Edfu,145 others remained in the service of their new—Kushite—kings.146 Indeed, it seems likely that Elephantine, which represented both the southernmost town within the Theban kings overall domain and the border with Kushite dominated Nubia, likely bore the brunt of the Kushite threat and may well have fallen to the Nubians at times. This is perhaps supported by the fact that despite the apparent lack of an official royal presence in the sanctuaries, the archaeological data suggests that the town functioned continuously from the 12th into the 17th Dynasty.147 The New Kingdom—18th Dynasty Following from the fragmented state of Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period, the beginning of the 18th Dynasty witnesses the reunification of the country under one Egyptian king. This was accomplished through a series of campaigns that ushered in a new era of Egyptian military strength and set the stage for Egypt’s place as a world power of the ancient Near East. The act of reunification, while

145  For example the warrior Khaankhef, who fled with his family. See S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 89, 174–75 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 325. 146  Several stelae from Buhen mention being in the service of the Kushite rulers. See S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit, 87–88, 166–73 and in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 323–25. 147   C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, passim; D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 91. Only one object of a 16th or 17th Dynasty king has been found here, and it is the only town south of Edfu within the Theban sphere of influence where royal objects have been found. The object is a granodiorite dyad statue of Sekhemre-wadjhu Sobekemsaf and Satet; see D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 113, Kat. 15.



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primarily a military one, brought with it a reinstatement of the central government. Initially it seems that the policies established by the 17th Dynasty kings were largely retained or expanded,148 indicating a level of political continuity during the transition that is supported by what is seen in the material culture datable to this period, particularly in Thebes—the base of the 18th Dynasty kings.149 As the 18th Dynasty develops however, we begin to see changes in the administrative structure that reflect, or are a reaction to, the shifting socio-political environment. While overall there is an underlying level of stability upon which the administrative structure functions, the changes wrought during the Amarna Period resulted in a transformation of nearly all aspects of society, particularly among the temple sector, but also within the central administration. This can be seen not only in the new power structures vis-à-vis the king and his subjects, but also in the aftermath when the post-Amarna (and later) kings relate their acts of putting Egypt “the way it was”, particularly with regard to the temple cults. The documents from this period are reminiscent of what we see at the end of the 17th Dynasty, when the kings were likewise repairing temples and reinstating their cults. Although it might be possible to visualize the administrative structure of the 18th Dynasty as evolving in three basic stages centered on either side of the Amarna Period, this would not fully convey the nature of pre-Amarna administration, which seems to witness a reorganization during the mid-18th Dynasty, around the time of Hatshepsut/Thutmose III. Thus it would be better to understand the 18th Dynasty administration as having four phases: early 18th Dynasty through Thutmose II, mid-18th Dynasty from Hatshepsut through Amenhotep III, Amarna Period, and post-Amarna Period/late 18th Dynasty. Each broad phase is itself a dynamic period, with shifting relationships between the king and the elite that are reflected in the make-up of the bureaucracy.150 As subsequent chapters deal with particular aspects of New Kingdom administration—the Amun domain, the military, the provinces and agriculture, the Levant and Nubia—it seems better to focus in

 D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 301 sqq.   J. Bourriau, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 35; A. Seiler, in: ibid., esp. 51–52. 150  Suggested also by E. Cruz-Uribe, “A Model for the Political Structure of Ancient Egypt”, in: For His Ka: essays offered in memory of Klaus Baer, D.P. Silverman, ed. (Chicago, 1994), 45–53, esp. 50–52 with figs. 3.4, 3.8–3.10. 148 149

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this chapter on examining the overall nature of Egyptian administration during the 18th Dynasty, including how the different sections and their officials interacted with each other. While the discreet areas just mentioned will thus form part of the discussion, the aim is to present the broader socio-historical context in which the government of the 18th Dynasty functioned. Following a discussion of the inherent problems in attempting to define the Egyptian administrative structure, the remainder of this section will be divided into the four broad chronological phases mentioned above. For each phase, the general trends in the nature of the administration and make-up of the bureaucracy will be presented. The “Structure” of 18th Dynasty Administration Discussions of New Kingdom administration have largely focused on its “structure”, that is, the different components or branches of the government during this period and the offices—as represented by titles—under their jurisdiction.151 Implicit in these treatments is the understanding that the central or state administration, in theory, revolved around the person of the king, though in practice most decisions must have been delegated to various upper-level officials. In the New Kingdom it is particularly difficult to separate out the components of the bureaucracy that served the king from those that served the state. In addition, it is probably unnecessary to do so as the overlap and fluidity between the different areas of the government should be understood as a key feature of New Kingdom administration. The division of the government into different organizational branches (palace, military, religious, civil, foreign), while a useful tool, does not convey the sense of how the structure was maintained or changed over time. More appropriate is the model suggested by Cruz-Uribe, which attempts to take into account and visually demonstrate the elastic nature of the system. It is based on “interconnecting circles of power,” where each circle can represent a different aspect of Egyptian society, from king or family, to positions like the vizier, to areas of administration like the military. Thus depending on the period to which it is

151  See, e.g., D. O’Connor, “New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period 1552–664 B.C.”, in: Ancient Egypt: A Social History, B.G. Trigger, B.J. Kemp, D. O’Conner, and A.B. Lloyd (Cambridge, 1983), 183–278, esp. 208, fig. 3.4, which is still the most referred to “model” for New Kingdom administration.



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applied, these spheres of influence can increase or diminish in size, or even disappear entirely, and overlap each other to a greater or lesser degree, reflecting changes in power and authority.152 Recent studies on 18th Dynasty (and Middle Kingdom) officials and the means by which they gained office have also demonstrated the fluid nature of the bureaucracy, in particular in the connection between job acquisition and interpersonal relations between the king, powerful families, and individuals who are apparently from less elite backgrounds.153 The inclusion of a “family” sphere as a potentially important feature of the government reflects what has been called the patrimonial nature of Egypt’s bureaucracy.154 However, we should be careful in classifying ancient Egypt either according to Weber’s “patriarchichal patrimonialism”155—Scholen’s “patrimonial household model” (PHM)156—or as its opposite, a truly “rational” bureaucracy or society. Especially during the New Kingdom the administrative structure appears to carry qualities of both. On the one hand the bureaucracy was certainly one in which officials were responsible for specific

152   Compare, for example, Cruz-Uribe’s models for the end of the Old Kingdom (in: For His Ka, D.P. Silverman, ed., fig. 3.7) with that created for the reign of Amenhotep III (in: ibid., fig. 3.8), or even the three different models representing different reigns during the 18th Dynasty (in: ibid., figs. 3.8–3.10). In a similar vein see Frandsen’s interpretation of the nature of Egypt’s empire in both Nubia and Syria-Palestine, P. Frandsen, “Egyptian Imperialism”, in: Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires, M.T. Larsen, ed. (Copenhagen, 1979), 167–190, see 171, 176 for the models. See also the comments by C. Keller, “The Royal Court”, in: Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh, C. Roehrig, ed. (New York; New Haven/London, 2005), 101–102. 153   E.g. JJ Shirley, The Culture of Officialdom: An examination of the acquisition of offices during the mid-18th Dynasty, PhD Dissertation, The Johns Hopkins University (Baltimore, 2005); M. Nelson-Hurst, Ideology and Practicality in Transmission of Office during the Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt: An examination of families and the concept of ἰ¡t, PhD Dissertation, The University of Pennsylvania (Philadelphia, 2011); G. Shaw, Royal Authority in Egypt’s Eighteenth Dynasty (Oxford, 2008). 154  M. Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology [orig. German 1922], edited by G. Roth and C. Wittich, 2 vols. (Berkeley/Los Angeles, 1978), 1013 sq., 1030, 1044 sqq. See also the comments of S.N. Eisenstadt, “Patrimonial Systems: Introduction”, in: Political Sociology: A Reader, S.N. Eisenstadt, ed. (New York, 1971), 138–145 and in “Observations and Queries About Sociological Aspects of Imperialism in the Ancient World”, in: Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires, M.T. Larsen, ed. (Copenhagen, 1979), 21–33. And more recently J.D. Schloen, House of the Father as Fact and Symbol: Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, 2001), 52, 70, 313; R. Müller-Wollerman, “Das ägyptische Alte Reich als Beispiel einer Weberschen Patrimonialbürokratie”, BES 9 (1987/88), 25–40. 155  M. Weber, Economy and Society, 1107. 156  See the discussions in J.D. Schloen, House of the Father, 50 sqq., 313–16.

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duties or had particular functions—a quality of a rational system, while on the other it was not completely impersonal in the sense that at least to some degree the selection and installation of officials likely followed what Scholen calls “preexisting networks of traditional personal relationships”.157 It may well be that the administrative system of ancient Egypt, at least for the New Kingdom and particularly for the 18th Dynasty, is best characterized as largely rational in nature but retaining patrimonial elements. The intricate nature of Egypt’s administrative system led Lehner to view it as a “complex adaptive system” (CAD). Complex because there existed several channels of authority distributed from the national to local level, but adaptive because the “central government was, to a degree, ad hoc and reactive.”158 Lehner comes to this conclusion following from Kemp’s assertions that trying to find a general, and longterm, “scheme of management” to understand Egypt’s government would prove elusive. In Kemp’s view the government functioned essentially through royal decrees issued in response to specific complaints or concerns, utilizing channels of authority without an accompanying abstract concept of government, and focusing on the short-term.159 To an extent this description is likely accurate insofar as it describes the procedural behavior at the top level of the central government. However, the bureaucracy should not be thought of as structurally ad hoc, rather, as Bryan notes, “the antiquity of the bureaucracy . . . and its ideological connection to the mission of kingship–the maintenance of Maat, or divine order–helped to maintain the activities of the state.”160 The need to fulfill Maat at all levels combined with the practicality of running a country the size of ancient Egypt suggests the existence of an underlying administrative structure that was in fact well organized and created to deal with the need to delegate authority. The essential solidity of the structure and existence of a management system is further implied by the long history of the bureaucracy with its overall continuity of institutions, titles and the functions attached to them (even if we do not completely understand them). Indeed, the stability of the

  J.D. Schloen, House of the Father, 69.  M. Lehner, in: Dynamics in Human and Primate Societies, 314. 159   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (London/New York, 1989), 234–38. 160   B. Bryan, “Administration in the Reign of Thutmose III”, in: Thutmose III. A New Biography, E. Cline and D. O’Connor, eds. (Ann Arbor, 2006), 69. 157 158



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administrative structure is indicated by the ability of Egypt’s kings to reorganize and reinstate a central government along lines familiar to them—and us—following each Intermediate Period. As we have seen already with the 17th Dynasty, there was a great deal of organization that must have taken place in order for the Theban kings to effectively respond to a continual Kushite threat and eventually oust the Hyksos. That this was accomplished by utilizing a pre-existing framework is suggested both by the continuity of various areas of the administration from the Middle Kingdom and by need of the 17th Dynasty kings to solidify their “right to rule” among the provincial elite in order to cement their power as kings and create a loyal political base to assist in their endeavors. The 18th Dynasty should be viewed as a continuation, and expansion, of those policies set up by their predecessors, which were strategized to handle changing socio-political events and carry out royal programs at a broad level. The ability of kings to adapt the administrative structure to suit changing socio-political circumstances indicates that there was also a degree of flexibility to its configuration. For example, at the beginning of the 18th Dynasty with the creation of the office of viceroy to oversee the administration of newly (re-)conquered Nubia. Although adaptive, the establishment of this entirely new branch of administration, functioning along parallel lines to that of the vizier, was carried out within a structural framework that had existed since the earliest stages of the Egyptian bureaucracy. Thus, our sense that the duties of officials often overlapped each other, either within or between what are seemingly discreet areas of the government should perhaps rather be seen as reflecting the relatively fluid nature of the administrative structure. Furthermore, it would seem that even at the procedural level the administration did not function in a truly ad hoc manner. Those officials who were authorized by the king to make decisions must have been well known to the populace, as was the manner in which concerns should be brought forward, and to whom they should be addressed. Documents such as the Tomb Robbery Papyrii attest to how trials proceeded, the Turin Strike Papyrus detailing the Ramesside workmen’s strikes indicate what happens when the rules are not followed, while the Duties of the Vizier demonstrates the framework by which the vizier’s office functioned, and similar records may have existed for other major areas of the government. In addition, the length of time that it would have taken for queries to be sent to the king, or even the vizier, and answers returned was too long to make this

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a workable day-to-day practice.161 Thus, Kemp’s suggestion that the government was largely run by royal fiats that reacted to situations as they were presented does not seem to be accurate. It would rather seem that when decrees were issued, it was done due to the important nature of the issue. In addition, the fact that rarely were changes made under one king and thrown out under the next indicates that decision making was not a particularly ad hoc affair. In fact, it is only during the Amarna Period, as demonstrated by the almost immediate reversals carried out by his successors, that this might be said to be the case. And even here the (religious) actions of Akhenaten must be seen in the context of gradual developments under his predecessors, albeit taken to a more extreme conclusion.162 Early 18th Dynasty: Ahmose-Thutmose II The administration of the early 18th Dynasty is characterized by continued reformation and consolidation. As was noted in the discussion of the 16th–17th Dynasties, the 17th Dynasty kings utilized a combination of powerful provincial families, royal princes and men titled as such (king’s son), as well as increased militarization of key towns, and renewed cultic activities to cement their sovereignty and effectively govern and defend the area under their control. While these practices continue, we also see during the 18th Dynasty the installation of new officials and the creation of new offices to assist in governing reunified Egypt. As might be expected given the Theban base of the 16th and 17th Dynasty kings, men with ties to Thebes gain in status, and Theban officials appear to have control over other areas of the administration. Another significant feature of the 17th Dynasty which came to play a prominent role in the early 18th Dynasty was the visible presence and importance of royal women in what Polz—most recently—has charac-

161  For example, the distance between Memphis and Aswan is 620 km and in ancient times took at least 10 days by boat. Shorter distances likely would have been traversed by donkey or foot, making the journey just as lengthy, if not more so. See J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: économie, administration et organisation territoriale (Paris, 1999), 243–45. 162  See, for example, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, D. O’Connor and E.H. Cline eds. (Ann Arbor, 1998) the contributions by B. Bryan, “Antecedents to Amenhotep III”, 27–62, esp. 48–52; R. Johnson “Monuments and Monumental Art under Amenhotep III: Evolution and Meaning”, 63–94, esp. 89–94; and J. Baines, “The Dawn of the Amarna Age”, 271–312.



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terized as a “(royal-)family-oriented reign.”163 In addition, the violent conclusion to the Second Intermediate Period and reunification of the country created a military whose personnel would, at least initially, become part of the administrative elite. During the 17th Dynasty the office of vizier, as defined in the Middle Kingdom, largely disappeared, and the duties once held by this one official were perhaps distributed to several officials. This may have been an attempt by the Theban kings to retain greater control, though it could also have been a practical result of governing a reduced area. It appears that the post was only reinstituted under Thutmose I, when the borders were secure and the kings could once again turn their attention inwards, perhaps indicating a recognition on the king’s part of the need to delegate his authority at the highest state level. By Ahmose’s reign, however, Lower Nubia was already within Egypt’s sphere of control, and thus we see the development of the post of viceroy, whose literal title is “king’s son and overseer of southern foreign countries” (see the earlier discussion above), to deal with the Nubian lands again under Egyptian authority. The vizier and the viceroy were also tied by blood, as the office holders were related to each other; the vizier Ahmose-Aametu (reign of Thutmose I) was the maternal grandson of the viceroy Ahmose-Satayit (reign of Ahmose) and nephew of his successor as viceroy Ahmose-Tjuro (reign of Amenhotep I). There was also a Theban connection at work here, as Ahmose-Aametu married the sister of the governor of Thebes and overseer of all works in the temple of Amun Ineni. The importance of this marriage for the descendants of Ahmose-Aametu and Ineni can be seen in their control of both the vizierate and areas of the Amun precinct administration for several generations (see below).164

163  D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 306 (cf. 376). He is by no means the first to discuss the visibility of royal women during the Second Intermediate Period and Early new Kingdom. See e.g., the succinct discussions by B. Bryan (and the literature cited therein): “The Eighteenth Dynasty before the Amarna Period (ca. 1550–1352),” in: The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, I. Shaw, ed. (Oxford, 2000), 218–271, esp. 226–30 and “In woman good and bad fortune are one earth: Status and roles of women in Egyptian culture,” in: Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven: women in ancient Egypt, A.K. Capel and G.E. Markoe, eds. (New York, 1996), 25–46, esp. 30–31, 37–38, as well as A.J. Spalinger, RdÉ 32 (1980). 164   JJ Shirley, “Viceroys, Viziers & The Amun Precinct: The Power of Heredity and Strategic Marriage in the Early 18th Dynasty”, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 73–113, esp. 89–98.

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The importance of Thebes as the base of the early 18th Dynasty kings, and of Amun as the main deity, lent a Theban character to the central government during this period, and also affected how the overall administrative system developed. In the early 18th Dynasty there is a clear connection between the central administration, the Amun precinct and the provincial government of Thebes, all of which were developing and expanding in tandem. Eichler notes that there was an intertwining between the temple and civil administration; the upper echelon officials held positions in both areas.165 For example, the first high priest of Amun Djhuty (reign of Ahmose) was also an overseer of sealers, while the overseer of works at Karnak and in royal mortuary temples, Peniaty, was also a royal builder. However, while this could indicate a link between civil and religious administration, it also suggests that the Amun precinct was developing its own secular administration. During Djhuty’s tenure the known offices that relate to the Amun precinct, outside of priests, involve the granaries—an area that would necessitate the sealing of goods. By the reign of Thutmose II the Amun precinct had expanded to include supervisory offices dealing with fields, cattle, artisans, and building works. Although these offices too would have required the involvement of an overseer of sealed goods, Djhuty’s successors as high priest of Amun, Minmonth166 and Parennefer, did not bear secular or civil titles; the duties of the high priest were separate from these areas. This suggests that as the Amun precinct expanded, it began to develop its own administration separate from the central civil government. In this regard it is worth pointing out that Thutmose I moved the administrative capital back to Memphis, making Thebes primarily a religious and cultic capital, and likely in need of its own governing institutions. As the Amun precinct expanded its administration, the provincial administration of Thebes became intricately tied to the secular side of the Amun precinct. For example, the governors of Thebes under Ahmose were the king’s son (of Amun) Tetiky and his brother Tetiemre.167  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 211–12.  Minmonth was also god’s father and royal sealer, denoting his elite status and likely a palace connection, but not duties. For the titles, see S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 247. 167  Following B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen, 261, 279. It is also possible that Tetiky should be regarded as a king’s son following the 17th Dynasty tradition—as a complete title denoting his elite status and ability to act on the king’s behalf. This scenario would still fit with the overall point of the connection between central, Theban and Amun administration in the early 18th Dynasty. 165 166



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Both of Tetiemre’s successors as governor, Sen/Senires168 and Ineni, were also overseers of the Amun granaries and building at Karnak. Eichler notes that neither the positions of steward nor treasurer of Amun existed during this period, and it seems likely that Sen/Senires and Ineni served in this capacity through their other administrative titles.169 The growing importance of Thebes and the Amun precinct can also be seen in the career paths of the first three viceroys: AhmoseSatayit and his son Ahmose-Tjuro were temple scribes,170 while Sen/ Senires’ positions prior to becoming viceroy were just outlined. It seems likely that the prevalence of the Theban and Amun precinct connection among the administrative elite was not just a result of Thebes being the base of the early 18th Dynasty kings, but also due to the apparent need of Ahmose and his successors to keep control of the newly (re-)forming government in the hands of a few key men. This is perhaps also part of the context in which the creation of the position of God’s Wife of Amun could be viewed. The significance of royal women in the late 17th and early 18th Dynasty is well established, a time during which they were prevalent in the activities carried out by 17th Dynasty kings, and could be seen as participating in “governmental affairs”.171 By establishing the position for his wife Ahmose-Nefertari (or perhaps his mother Ahhotep), and funding it it through the 2nd priesthood of Amun office and its associated holdings as recorded on the Donation Stela,172 Ahmose created an endowment for the God’s

  This takes the view that the governor Senires is the same man as the overseer of granaries of Amun, controller of works in Karnak, and viceroy Seni. See E. Dziobek, Das Grab des Ineni Theben Nr. 81 (Mainz am Rhein, 1992), 125; S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 215, no. 494. 169  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 214–15. 170  For the geneaology and career paths of these men and the extended family, which remains within the Amun precinct, and can be connected to both Karnak and the mortuary temples on the West Bank, see JJ Shirley, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 75–82, and the literature cited therein. See also W.V. Davies, “Tombos and the Viceroy Inebny/ Amenemnekhu”, BMSAES 10 (2008): 39–63, esp. 46–7. (http://www.britishmuseum .org/research/online_journals/bmsaes/issue_10/davies_10.aspx). 171  See most recently D. Polz, Der Beginn des Neuen Reiches, 306 (cf. 376) and note 159 above. The power of Ahmose’s mother Ahhotep within the court is clearly indicated by the tomb stela inscription of her chief steward Kares; see B. Bryan, in: Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven, 31. 172  I follow Bryan’s interpretation of the text, see B. Bryan “Property and the God’s Wives of Amun”, in: Women and Property in Ancient Near Eastern and Mediterranean Societies, D. Lyons and R. Westbrook, conference and edition eds. (Harvard Center for Hellenic Studies, 2003), 15 pages, see esp. 1–6 (http://chs.harvard.edu/wa/ pageR?tn=ArticleWrapper&bdc=12&mn=1219). On the Donation stela and the office of God’s Wife see in particular M. Gitton, “Le résiliation d’une fonction religieuse: 168

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Wife (and her chosen successors in perpetuity) that cemented the role of royal women within the burgeoning Amun priesthood and ensured that part of the overall wealth of the Amun precinct remained in royal hands.173 Towards the end of Ahmose’s reign, presumably once the country was either reunified, or at least certainly moving in that direction, it appears he began a process of appointing new men into positions of power within the provinces. Although during the Hyksos wars the militarization of key towns outside of Thebes and the presence of strong local leaders would have been an asset, it seems that post-reunification they may have posed a potential threat. Ahmose and his successors may have been wary of installing, or retaining, officials at the head of the provinces who either held military titles and thus potential military control, had assisted in the military endeavors of the late 17th Dynasty, or had a long family history—and thus power—in the politics of an area. This may be the case for example, with the mayoralty of Elkab, which changed hands towards the end or just after the reunification of Egypt. Sobekhotep was the governor during year 22 of Ahmose, and he was succeeded in office by his son Reneny (Elkab tomb no. 7) during the reign of Amenhotep I. Based on inscriptions in Reneny’s tomb, Sobekhotep was likely the first in his family to hold the position, thus representing, as Davies states, “a break with the past and the end of the Sobeknakht family’s long occupation of the governorship.”174 (See discussion of Sobeknakht above). This change in personnel may also be connected to an overall de-militarization of the provinces at the conclusion of the campaigns to oust the Hyksos. Garrison commanders are no longer attested among the governors of towns, while the title of king’s son, which many of these commanders also held, is now often nouvelle interprétation de la stèle de donation d’Ahmès Néfertary”, BIFAO 76 (1976): 65–89; E. Graefe, Untersuchungen zur Verwaltung und Geschichte der Institution der Gottesgemahlin des Amun vom Beginn des Neuen Reiches bis zur Spätzeit (Weisbaden, 1981), 101–04; and B. Menu, “Quelques remarques à propos de l’étude comparée de la stèle Juridique de Karnak et de la ‘stèle’ d’Ahmès Néfertari”, RdÉ 23 (1971): 155–163. See also Bryan, in: Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven, 31 sq.; G. Robins, Women in Ancient Egypt (London, 1993), 44 sqq., 149–56; Robins, “The God’s Wife of Amun in the 18th Dynasty in Egypt”, in: Images of Women in Antiquity, A. Cameron and A. Kuhrt, eds. (Detroit, 1993), 65–78; and the references in C. Barbotin, Âhmosis, 106 sqq. 173  So also B. Bryan, in: Women and Property, 5. The office had its own priesthood, land, and endowments, and thus the bearer of the post would have enormous economic power and wealth. D.B. Redford, History and Chronology of the Eighteenth Dynasty of Egypt: Seven Studies (Toronto, 1967), 70 sqq.; G. Robins, in: Images of Women in Antiquity, 66, 71, 73. 174   W.V. Davies, in: The Second Intermediate Period, M. Marée, ed., 237.



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found among the governors’ titulary.175 In addition, while AhmoseTjuro was a commander at Buhen prior to becoming viceroy, his successor as the head of Buhen’s local administration was a governor.176 The military needs of Ahmose and his predecessors also provided new means for provincial families to gain status: either through long military careers or by moving from the military into a civil career. For example, while Ahmose son of Ibana was awarded tangible items such as promotions, land and gold during his long military career that spanned the reigns of Ahmose through Thutmose I, his rise in social status can be clearly seen through the positions of his descendants, who prospered in the administration of both Elkab and Esna, and were closely tied to Thebes and the royal court. While the most famous descendant is Ahmose son-of-Ibana’s grandson Pahery, who was governor of both Elkab and Esna during the reign of Thutmose I, the fact that Pahery’s mother—Ahmose son-of-Ibana’s daughter—was able to marry a royal tutor demonstrates the prestige of this family.177 Ahmose Pennekheb represents another way in which military service in the early 18th Dynasty led to career and status advancement. Following his military career under Amenhotep I, Thutmose I and Thutmose II, he becomes both royal herald and overseer of the seal, as well as royal tutor to Hatshepsut’s daughter.178 Among the early officials there is a marked prevalence of men associated with Thebes, Elkab, and Edfu. It has already been noted that officials based at these three provinces played important roles in the   B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen, 255–66.   A.J. Spalinger, in: Thutmose III. A New Biography, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds. (Ann Arbor, 2006), 351. 177   W.V. Davies, in: Elkab and Beyond, W. Claes, H. de Meulenaere, S. Hendrickx, eds., passim. 178   According to his autobiography (Urk. IV, 33–39), he was favored by the kings he primarily served under and was rewarded with the “gold of honor” by Amenhotep I, Thutmose I and Thutmose II. See S. Binder, The Gold of Honour in New Kingdom Egypt (Oxford, 2003), 148–49, 238; P. Dorman, “The Early Reign of Thutmose III: An Unorthodox Mantle of Coregnecy”, in: Thutmose III, E.H. Cline and D. O’Connor, eds., 39–68, esp. 49–50. See also JJ Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 292 n. 6 and “The Power of the Elite: The Officials of Hatshepsut’s Regency and Co-Regency”, paper presented at The Theban Symposium: Creativity and innovation in the reign of Hatshepsut, Granada, 4–8 May, 2010, and forthcoming in publication by the Oriental Institute. For a discussion of Ahmose Pennekheb’s tomb, see W.V. Davies, “A View from Elkab: The tomb and statues of Ahmose-Pennekhbet”, in: Creativity and Innovation in the Reign of Hatshepsut, J.M. Galan, P.F. Dorman and B. Bryan, eds., forthcoming. See also W.V. Davies and E.R. O’Connell, “British Museum Expedition to Elkab and Hagr Edfu, 2012”, BMSAES 19 (2012): 51–85, esp. 52–53. http://www .britishmuseum.org/research/online_journals/bmsaes/issue_19/2012davies_oconnell .aspx. 175 176

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late 17th Dynasty. Thus it should perhaps not be surprising that this continued to be the case during the transition from the 17th to 18th Dynasty. The fact that overall new elite families stemming from these regions were chosen indicates that Ahmose and his successors were likely not only ensuring but also rewarding loyalty and service by selecting officials from among families such as Ahmose son-of-Ibana and Ahmose Pennekheb to be part of the burgeoning administration. Mid-18th Dynasty: Hatshepsut-Amenhotep III The fluid and intricate nature of the Egyptian administrative system (discussed above) is perhaps best seen during the mid-18th Dynasty, which witnesses some reorganization of the administrative structure and a shift in who ran the different components of the bureaucracy. There is also an increase in the number of officials and variety of types of offices, resulting in greater complexity and overlapping among the different administrative areas. While this overlap can be particularly seen between upper level civil offices and either the Amun precinct or the military, it can also be said of particular individuals, or even families, during each reign. In addition, there appears to be an ebb and flow to the relative influence wielded at court by priests and administrators of the Amun precinct, military officials, and royal nurses and tutors. The roles of Thebes as the religious capital, but with some administrative functions, and Memphis as the main administrative capital, are also important to our understanding of how the government functioned at this time. Hatshepsut Although the mid-18th Dynasty, as defined here, is marked by Hatshepsut’s unusual rise to kingship, from an administrative perspective she utilized and expanded upon a basic framework already in place. During her reign (or perhaps slightly earlier) three major administrative areas become divided, with one official in charge of the north and another for the south: the overseer of the seal, overseer of the double granaries, and the vizier. In addition, the Amun precinct, which experiences a dramatic rise in number and types of personnel,179 becomes the preeminent component of elite identity, and thus of being an official. This increase is certainly connected to Hatshepsut’s position as  See S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 215–18.

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God’s Wife of Amun prior to assuming kingship, and to the role this position played in her assumption of the throne. Hatshepsut relied on a combination of officials put in place before her regency and trusted palace officials whom she rewarded through promotions, often to positions connected to the Amun precinct. The Amun domain had become powerful already by the reign of Thutmose II, when Hatshepsut was God’s Wife of Amun, which certainly contributed to her rise to the throne.180 As a result of the power wielded by the Amun domain, an upper-level position within it would have given its bearer great economic wealth and power. Attesting to their favored status, some of Hatshepsut’s most prominent officials carried out duties related to temple construction, a task done at the king’s behest. For example, men such as the high priest of Amun Hapuseneb and his son-in-law the second high priest Puiemre, the steward of Amun Senenmut, the governor of Thebes Ineni, governor of Thinis Satepihu, the southern vizier Useramun (son of his predecessor Ahmose-Aametu), northern overseer of the seal Nehesy, (northern?) overseer of double granaries Minnakht, overseers of the gold and silver houses Senemiah and his successor Djhuty, royal herald Duawyerneheh, royal butler Djhuty, and royal steward Amenhotep were all favored by Hatshepsut and were connected to the Amun domain either through their positions or specific tasks assigned to them. It may well be that the officials whose own monuments bear witness to the high level of prestige they enjoyed (Gebel el-Silsilah shrines, tombs, statues, etc.) represent not only a powerful contingent of the administration vis-à-vis the king’s power, but also the way in which Hatshepsut gained the throne. Though not necessarily a cabal, these high officials would certainly have been willing to promote and promulgate Hatshepsut’s ideological transformation, which resulted in their favored status.181 Thutmose III While some of Hatshepsut’s officials died or were replaced shortly after Thutmose III ascended to the throne, others continued to serve under the new king. In addition, some of these officials were also rewarded by him, either materially or by retaining hereditary control of their   Cf. B. Bryan, in: Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven, 31–33.  See JJ Shirley, in: Creativity and Innovation in the Reign of Hatshepsut, J.M. Galan, P.F. Dorman and B. Bryan, eds. 180 181

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position.182 Given the power that many of these officials wielded under Hatshepsut, it is questionable whether Thutmose III chose to retain them, or was perhaps “convinced” to do so. At the very least it seems likely that he recognized their value in terms of both experience and ensuring a smooth transition to his sole reign and secured their loyalty through the granting of additional rewards, including perhaps familial retention of positions. The latter can be seen in the transfer of power between the coregency/sole reign high priests of Amun Menkheperresoneb (i) and (ii),183 co-regency overseer of double granaries Minnakht to his son Menkheper (sole reign), and regency/co-regency southern vizier Useramun to his nephew Rekhmire (sole reign). However, it is also noticeable that under Thutmose III the Amun precinct connection is not nearly as prevalent as it was under Hatshepsut. It appears that overall Thutmose III intentionally chose not to connect his top administrators to, or promote them from, the Amun precinct in the way that Hatshepsut did. Given the economic importance of the Amun domain during this period, and that material from Thebes provides the majority of our information, the dearth of officials with an Amun connection is significant. It seems likely that Thutmose III was making a concerted effort to bring the Amun domain firmly under royal control. In this light we might view the curtailing of power wielded by the high priests and steward of the king as reflected in the inability of Hapuseneb to pass the position of high priest to his son-inlaw the second priest of Amun Puiemre. Puiemre was also connected to the God’s Wife of Amun office both in his role as second priest and through his marriage to Hapuseneb’s daughter Senisoneb who was a Divine Adoratrice. Thus we might also see here an attempt to reign in the power of the God’s Wife office by Thutmose III by not installing further members of this family in positions of power within the Amun priesthood. Similarly, the role of the steward also seems greatly reduced, based on the information available for the officials who suc For example, Thutmose III is mentioned or depicted in the tombs of the vizier Useramun (TT131), southern overseer of the seal Sennefri (TT99), royal butler and herald Djhuty (TT110), and high priest of Amun Menkheperresoneb (TT112), while the overseer of double granaries Minnakht (TT87) received funerary gifts and the steward of Amun Rau was gifted his tomb. See JJ Shirley, “Politics of Placement: The Development of the 18th Dynasty Theban Necropolis”, paper presented at the 10th annual ICE, Rhodes, 22–29 May, 2008 and in: Creativity and Innovation in the Reign of Hatshepsut, J.M. Galan, P.F. Dorman and B. Bryan, eds. 183  I should note here that it is possible that these are in fact one and the same person, serving during the coregency, with another high priest during the early part of Thutmose III’s sole reign. Personal communication, D. Laboury. 182



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ceeded Senenmut and Amenhotep. In addition, the vizierate under Useramun’s successor (and nephew) Rekhmire apparently takes on a greater role in overseeing the Amun administration.184 The situation of the viziers is particularly important as it demonstrates the nature of the changing power structure between the king and his officials. What started under Ahmose and his successors as ways to reward and ensure loyalty among the new elite had, by the reigns of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III, resulted in powerful families who could exert their influence to a significant degree. It may be that this was one factor in Hatshepsut’s rise. The ability of the vizierate family to retain control over three generations, choose prime tomb locations in the Theban necropolis, and spread multiple family members across the Amun domain, allowing them to generate more wealth and power for the family, all speak to their power during this period.185 During the sole reign of Thutmose III the continual campaigning resulted in a military connection becoming a central feature of elite identity. Officials tended to emphasize their military service, even if they were primarily civil or court officials, as many were.186 Thus we see among several of Thutmose III’s and Amenhotep II’s officials a military connection that parallels in some respects the one seen under Hatshepsut with regard to the Amun precinct. However, it does not seem, by and large, that military loyalty resulted in upper level civil positions, as happened earlier in the 18th Dynasty and could perhaps also be said of Hatshepsut’s officials and the Amun precinct. This is not to say that military service and recognition did not bring rewards: several officials from varying areas of the administration boast the gold of honor187 and depict the king in their tombs, including career soldiers and military officials such as the troop commander and ἰdnw of the army Amenemheb-Mahu, chief of the Medjay Dedi, and overseer of northern countries Amenmose. However, many men who exhibit military careers or connections under Thutmose III did so in the context of their civil responsibilities—even if they participated in actual battles—and upon concluding their foreign duties returned home and 184  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 220–222; JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 65 sqq., 170 sqq. 185   On the particular power of the viziers and the family of Ineni, see JJ Shirley, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 89 sqq. 186  For the self-representation of officials as expresssed in relation to their king, see H. Guksch, Königsdienst. Zur Selbstdarstellung der Beamten in der 18. Dynastie, SAGA 11 (Heidelberg, 1994). 187  See S. Binder, Gold of Honour, 238–39.

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usually continued to serve within the same area of the administration, either in the same position or a higher one. This is particularly the case for officials connected to the king or the palace administration, such as the controller of works, royal herald and overseer of the ruyt Iamunedjeh, idnw of the royal herald Userhat, royal barber Si-Bastet, royal butlers Montuiywy and Suemniwet, and ἰdnw of the king and later overseer of temple works Minmose.188 Amenhotep II Amenhotep II is generally viewed as having promoted “personal friends” whom he knew as a youth into positions of prominence. This is largely based on the apparent prevalence of the title “child of the kap”189 among his officials. However, it should be noted that although this title does denote a palace connection, likely in childhood, many of these men, while contemporaries of the king, were not necessarily of the same generation. Thus several of them would have served already under Thutmose III and been part of the elite when Amenhotep II came to the throne. In addition, most who bore it were connected to the palace or person of the king, and few attained the highest civil positions;190 the two significant exceptions to this being the viceroy Usersatet191 and king’s steward Qenamun. In fact, although many of Amenhotep II’s

188  See JJ Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, S. Bar, D. Kahn, JJ Shirley, eds., 299–312. 189   This is generally interpreted as referring to people who were brought up in the palace, probably within the royal court or harem, though its meaning is still not well understood. According to Feucht it could also designate an institution within the palace in which membership denoted a position of respect and authority recognized by the king, or even a body of people whose members could even have juridical duties. See E. Feucht, Das Kind im Alten Ägypten. Die Stellung des Kindes in Familie und Gesellschaft nach altägyptischen Texten und Darstellungen (Frankfurt/New York, 1995), 266–304 and “The ẖrdw n k¡p reconsidered,” in: Pharaonic Egypt The Bible and Christianity, S. Israelit-Groll, ed. (Jerusalem, 1985), 38–47; see also B. Bryan, in: Thutmose III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 96 sq. 190  Serving both Thutmose III and Amehotep II are the royal butler Montuiywy, scribe who counts bread Userhat, and overseer of works Paheqamen Benia. Amenemheb-Mahu’s wife Baky was a favored nurse of Amenhotep II but their son Amu bears only the child of the kap title. From the reign of Amenhotep II are the king’s steward Maanakhetef, tutor Hekareshu, fan-bearer Nebenkemet, scribe of the treasury Minhotep Hututu, and troop commander Paser. See JJ Shirley, “The Power of Royal Nurses & Tutors in the 18th Dynasty”, paper presented at the 60th annual ARCE meeting, Dallas, TX, 24–26 April, 2009. 191   Although not the son of a nurse or tutor, his wife Hennuttawy was a nurse for Thutmose IV.



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most important officials were sons of tutors and nurses, overall they bear neither the “child of the kap” nor “foster-brother of the king”192 titles, likely indicating an age difference with the king. Thus their rise to prominence—at least in some cases—was probably due to the tutor or nurse relationship of a parent or family member with Amenhotep when he was a prince. For example, Amenhotep II’s vizier was Amenemopet, the son of the tutor Ahmose-Humay, while Amenemopet’s cousin Sennefer193 was both mayor of Thebes and held a large degree of administrative control within the Amun precinct in Thebes. In the north, Qenamun was the steward of the important naval center and Amenhotep II’s garden estate at Perunefer, as well as being steward of the king. Qenamun’s mother was an honoured nurse and he was both “praised in the kap” and also called a foster-brother of the king. Yet another nurse’s son, Mery, was the high priest of Amun,194 while various sons and daughters of nurses and tutors also found positions within the Amun precinct.195 The—sometimes multiple—depiction of the king in the tombs of these officials indicates their elevated status, while the important role that the tutors and nurses played can be seen in the unusual prominence they are accorded in these tombs, often almost to the exclusion of the other parent. Under Amenhotep II we also see the decline of both the powerful vizierate family represented by Rekhmire and with this a change in

192   This title appears to denote those children who were in fact suckled alongside a royal child; see C. Roehrig, The Eighteenth Dynasty Titles Royal Nurse (mnʿt nswt), Royal Tutor (mnʿ nswt), and Foster Brother/Sister of the Lord of the Two Lands (sn/snt mnʿ n nb t3wy) (Berkeley, 1990), 308–14. 193  Sennefer’s parents were the 2nd priest of Hor-wer in Qus Nu and his wife Hunetiry/Tiiry. Sennefer is called the “son of his sister” by Ahmose-Humay in AhmoseHumay’s tomb. However, based on inscriptions in both Sennefer’s tomb (TT99) and that of Ahmose-Humay (TT224), Sennefer clearly functioned as a son for, and was perhaps adopted as such by, his uncle. See JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 240–45. 194  Having replaced the apparently fairly unknown Amenemhat, who did work his way up through the ranks and succeeded Menkheperresoneb (ii). See JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 145–152. 195  For example, the nurse Hunay was the mother of the high priest of Amun Mery and his brother who was chief in Karnak and master secrets Amun; the 3rd priest of Amun Kaemheribsen was a son of a nurse and probably Qenamun’s brother; Sennefer’s wife Senetnay was a nurse and their daughter Mutnofret was a chantress Amun; another son of the tutor Ahmose-Humay was an overseer of priests Amun; the tutor Minmose had a daughter Heriry who was a chantress Amun and daughter Sharyti who was a nurse for Thutmose IV; Neith (wife of the ἰdnw of the king Pesuhker) was also a nurse for Thutmose IV and her son Mahu was a 2nd priest of Amun. See JJ Shirley, “The Power of Royal Nurses & Tutors in the 18th Dynasty”.

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the relationships between the vizierate, Amun precinct and Theban administration whereby the vizier’s role in the Amun administration is supplanted by both the high priest and the Theban mayor.196 Although Rekhmire witnessed the ascendance of Amenhotep II, he was eventually succeeded by a new official—one Amenemopet, the son of Ahmose-Humay, who in addition to being a tutor, was also overseer of the estate of the God’s Wife of Amun and overseer of granaries of the God’s Wife Ahmose-Nefertary. While Amenemopet’s duties focused on the vizierate, his cousin Sennefer, as mayor of Thebes, was also steward of the Amun temple and apparently given supervisory responsibilities over various administrative aspects of the Amun precinct, many of which he shared with the contemporary high priest Mery. This marks not only the introduction of a new, provincial, family in charge of Thebes, but also the end of direct vizierate control, or at least prominence, in the Theban civil and religious administration. The power of Sennefer’s family within Thebes can be seen in his ability to pass his position as mayor to his son-in-law, Kenamun (TT162), who served under Amenhotep III, if not earlier, and in the gold of honor awarded to both men.197 Despite stressing a connection to the king over military service, Amenhotep II’s officials were not “new men” per se, but rather still came from established families. Under Amenhotep II an official’s relationship to the king, as expressed through epithets denoting his “closeness”, became increasingly important. The prevalence of the title “child of the kap” among Amenhotep II’s officials should perhaps be seen in this context—as a means of identifying oneself as not only elite but from the king’s court. This method of self-identification seems to have gradually replaced the important role that military involvement had in elite identity under Thutmose III.198 Indeed, the prominence of military officials—or at least of men whose activities took them on campaign—which initially carried over from his father’s reign, gradually begins to wane such that by the end of Amenhotep II’s reign stewards and priests begin to take on more important roles within the administration. This is clearly seen in the titles and tomb decoration   Cf. S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 222–26.   JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 171 f., 246–59, 453 f.; S. Binder, Gold of Honour, 240. 198   JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 325 ff. For the self-representation of officials as expresssed in relation to their king, see H. Guksch, Königsdienst, esp. 57–73 for the concept of closeness and its relation to (perceived) military involvement. 196 197



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of the chief steward Qenamun (TT93), who bore a wide range of titles connected both to Perunefer and the Amun domain, and in his tomb stresses his relationship to the king through his mother, rather than his exploits alongside Amenhotep II in Retenu.199 This point is also demonstrated by the distribution of the Theban tombs of officials from this period. While under Thutmose III Sheikh Abd el-Qurna is dominated by tombs belonging to military and court officials, under Amenhotep II we find tombs of the highest civil administrators grouped together: Qenamun, Amenemopet, Sennefer and Mery.200 Thutmose IV With the reign of Thutmose IV perhaps the most noticeable change in the structure of the administration is the degree to which the military had become professionalized and bureaucratized. This resulted in an apparent decrease in the number of soldiers at all levels while positions related to military administration, particularly the scribal ranks, burgeoned. This transformation if reflected in the military titles of elite officials. These men are civil officials who most likely functioned at the court, rather than in a true military setting.201 By Thutmose IV’s reign, Egypt’s active participation in battles had significantly declined and there was no longer the need for the large soldier-based military that functioned earlier in the 18th Dynasty. This is well reflected, for example, in the Theban tombs of several officials, where many of the men who were closest to the king, as represented by both their large and well decorated tombs and the depiction of the king in them, bear titles relating to military administration; for example, scribe of the army Tjanni (TT74), scribe of nfrw (recruits or elite troops) Horemheb (TT78), and standard-bearer and chief of Medjay Nebamun (TT90). Indeed, the case of Tjanni—a military administrator beginning in the reign of Thutmose III who ended his career as a favored official of Thutmose IV—provides a perfect counterpoint to the career soldier Amenemheb-Mahu mentioned above.202 And this trend can even be 199   JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 265–82, 451–55; B. Bryan, in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 38, 61. 200   JJ Shirley, “Politics of Placement”. 201  See in general, B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 279–85 and in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 58, 61. 202   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 279–80, 286; JJ Shirley, “Politics of Placement”. For the tombs see A. Brack and A. Brack, Das Grab des Tjanuni; Theben Nr. 74, ADAIK 19 (Mainz am Rhein, 1977); A. Brack, Das Grab des Haremhab, Theben

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seen in the career of Thutmose IV’s viceroy Amenhotep, whose other titles of note were royal scribe, director of works, and overseer of Amun’s cattle,203 presenting a stark contrast to his predecessor Usersatet, who was a chariot-soldier and fought alongside Amenhotep II in Retenu.204 A survey of the careers and lineage of Thutmose IV’s officials demonstrates that while some officials carry over from the previous reign, others are newly introduced, though some of these were from wellestablished families. Among the most powerful and favored of Thutmose IV’s officials were the steward of the king and likely chief steward of Amun Tjenuna (TT76), the overseer of the seal (ἰmy-r ḫ tm) Sobekhotep (TT63), and second priest of Amun Amenhotep Si-se (TT75).205 Sobekhotep’s father Min held the same position under Thutmose III, while his father-in-law was mayor of the Fayum; a title he passed to Sobkehotep and which was then passed on to Sobekhotep’s son Paser. Sobekhotep’s successor as overseer of the seal was his own steward, Ptahmose.206 In the case of Tjenuna, he first served as scribe to the chief steward Merire before becoming chief steward himself. Amunhotep Si-se however boasts in this tomb that Thutmose IV placed him in this position because he was a trustworthy official, implying that he was personally selected.207 Although little is known of the northern and southern viziers of this period, it seems that they came from established families, and in the case of Thutmose,208 belonged to a promi-

Nr. 78, ADAIK 35, (Mainz am Rhein, 1980); N. Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials of Tuthmosis the Fourth (nos. 75 and 90), TTS 3, (London, 1923). 203   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV (Baltimore, 1991), 250–55, and in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds. (Ann Arbor, 1998), 61. See also W.J. Murnane, “The Organization of Government under Amenhotep III”, in: ibid., 173–221, esp. 178; S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 096. 204   P. der Manuelian, Studies in the Reign of Amenophis II (Hildesheim, 1987), 154–58; JJ Shirley, Culture of Officialdom, 216–40 and in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, S. Bar, D. Kahn, JJ Shirley, eds., 292 n. 6. 205  For the tombs see T. Säve-Söderbergh, Four Eighteenth Dynasty Tombs, Private Tombs at Thebes 1 (Oxford, 1957); E. Dziobek and M.A. Raziq, Das Grab des Sobekhotep, Theban Nr 63, AV 71 (Mainz, 1990); N. Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials of Tuthmosis the Fourth (nos. 75 and 90), TTS 3, (London, 1923). 206   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 244–46, 266 and “The Tombowner and His Family”, in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 58–61, and in: Das Grab des Sobekhotep Theben Nr. 63, AV 71, E. Dziobek and M.A. Raziq, eds., 81–88. 207   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 255–56, 267, 269 and in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 58. 208   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 243–44; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 189.



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nent Memphite line. The connection of officials to Memphis is not surprising because this was the administrative capital of the period, and while some of these officials had their tombs in Thebes—particularly those who also served the Amun domain in some fashion, others, such as the overseer of the seal and chief steward Merire were buried in the north at Saqqara.209 During the reign of Thutmose IV Eichler suggests that the Amun domain witnesses a degree of decentralization, whereby the high priest’s duties became focused on priestly duties more than administrative.210 She bases this on the decrease in known cult personnel, cult centric titles of the high priest and the prevalence of Amun administrators who also held titles related to the palace or military administration. This may be true. However, Thutmose IV also undertook a program of honoring not only Amun but also solar gods outside of Thebes, particularly in the Memphite area, and altered the king’s self-identification from one that stressed military prowess to one that utilized divine iconography.211 This new emphasis may have brought about a renewed focus on the importance of functioning within the religious sphere for members of the elite, similar to that seen earlier under Hatshepsut. During her reign a title or task that placed an official in charge of some aspect of the Amun domain was a marker of status. Under Thutmose IV, we see, for example, that military scribes such as Horemheb and Si-ese also bore overseer titles related to the cattle and fields of Amun, while Horemheb was also designated as overseer of priests of the north and south. Some of Thutmose IV’s officials also bore essentially the same civil title within the Amun domain; for example, the chief steward and steward of Amun Tjenuna, and royal builders Her and Suty who were also overseer of works of Amun.212

209   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 248, 255. Tomb Bubasteion II.4, see A. Zivie, “Tombes rupestres de la Falaise du Bubasteion à Saqqarah—IIe et IIIe campagnes (1982-1983)”, ASAE 70 (1985), 219–232, esp. 228–29, “Les tombes de la falaise du Bubasteion à Saqqarah,” Le Courrier du CNRS 49 (1983), 37–44 and “Trois saisons à Saqqarah: les tombeaux du Bubasteion”, BSFE 98 (1983), 40–56. 210  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 228 sq. 211   B. Bryan, in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 46–52. For the full listing of the monuments and their socio-historical implications, see B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 141–241. 212  See S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, nos. 442, 125, 555, 436, 490.

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Amenhotep III Among Amenhotep III’s officials, at least those whose families and careers are well documented, there continues to be a significant overlap between the administrative military sector and Amun administration, and titles relating to one or both of these areas are prominent among the highest civil officials. We can see this trend in the duties of the viceroy of Nubia Merymose, who, like his predecessor, demonstrates his essentially administrative function through his secondary titles. Merymose was also a royal scribe and overseer of cattle, works and gold lands of Amun. The lack of military titles held by the viceroys of Thutmose IV and Amenhotep III, but which do appear in the titulary of their subordinates, is indicative of the overall bureaucratization of the viceroyship and the inclusion of the royal and religious domains in Nubia as part of the viceroy’s responsibilities.213 However, the overlap among offices is perhaps best exemplified by Amenhotep son of Hapu, whose most important titles, to judge from his statue inscriptions, were those of royal scribe and scribe of recruits (or elite troops—nfrw). Within the Amun domain he counted overseer of Amun’s cattle and festival leader of Amun among his titles, the latter clearly designed to demonstrate his elevated status among the Amun priesthood. But he was also fan-bearer on the right of the king, controller of Upper and Lower Egypt and overseer of royal works, in addition to functioning as the steward of princess Satamun. Although several of Amenhotep III’s officials had representations of the king, and even his sed festival celebrations,214 in their tombs, Amenhotep son of Hapu’s status as a favored—if not the favorite—official, is made clear not only through his involvement in Amenhotep III’s sed festivals but particularly by being granted his own funerary temple next to that of Amenhotep III.215

213   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 251–53; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 178; S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 283; A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 134–35. 214  For example, TT57 of the overseer of the double granary Khaemhat, TT192 of the royal herald and Queen Tiye’s steward Kheruef, TT383 of the viceroy Merymose, TT48 of the chief steward Amenemhet Surer. 215  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 99; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 197–98, 218–21 and “Servant, Seer, Saint, Son of Hapu: Amenhotep called Huy”, KMT 2, no. 1 (1991), 8–13, 56–59; A. Varille, Inscriptions concernant l’architect Amenhotep, fils de Hapou (Cairo: BdE 44, 1968).



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While Amenhotep son of Hapu may have come from a relatively mid-level family in the Delta, many of Amenhotep III’s highest officials seem to have been part of established, elite families. For example, the overseer of the house of gold and silver Sobekmose comes from a distinguished provincial family from the south of Thebes which for three generations held posts as military scribes and treasury scribes, as well as being prominent in their local cult. Sobkemose’s father Sobeknakht was also given the post of steward of Amun, while his son Sobekhotep Panehsy inherited both the treasury scribe and overseer positions.216 Although uncommon, inheritance at this level is not unknown: the overseers of the double granaries Minnakht and Menkheper were father and son who served under Hatshepsut, Thutmose III and Amenhotep II, while the overseers of the seal Sobekhotep and his father Min were in charge under Amenhotep II and Thutmose IV (see above). The overseer of the double granary Khaemhat was of similarly distinguished background; he was the son of the royal scribe and overseer of the houses of gold and silver Imhotep.217 The king and queen’s chief stewards were also prominent men with Amun and military connections. Queen Tiyi’s steward Kheruef, who also served as first royal herald and steward of Amun, was the son of a military scribe and chantress of Amun and Isis.218 The chief steward, Amenemhat Surer was also a fan-bearer on the right of the king, overseer of royal works, scribe of the Amun treasury, and overseer of Amun’s cattle and fields; his mother was a ẖkrt nswt, and his father also an overseer of Amun’s cattle.219 Under Amenhotep III we also see the importance of established Memphite and northern families, several of which were able to retain their position within their families for several generations and

216   W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 190 sqq.; W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (Leiden/Koln, 1958), 403 sq., 408, 511–12 no. 8 and no. 9. 217   W. Helck, Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 389–90, 499, no. 8; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 183 sq., 218; B. Bohleke, The Overseers of the Double Granaries of Upper and Lower Egypt in the Egyptian New Kingdom, 1570–1085 B.C. PhD Dissertation, Yale University. (New Haven, 1991), 213–39. 218  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 464; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 217. 219  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 039; W. Helck, Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 367–68, 482–83 no, 12; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 212–13.

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dominated the ranks of the king’s highest officials. For example, the family of Heby, the governor of Memphis early in Amenhotep III’s reign, if not already under Thutmose IV, and who was also in charge of Amun’s granaries and counting Amun’s cattle (a post he inherited from his father), was equally prominent under Amenhotep III and Akhenaten. Heby’s two sons became Amenhotep III’s vizier Ramose and chief steward in Memphis Amenhotep Huy. The relative power of this family can be seen in Ramose’s continued service under Akhenaten and the ability of Amenhotep Huy to pass his position to his son Ipy, who also continues to serve Akhenaten as chief steward. A military connection is also evident; Amenhotep Huy bears the title scribe of nfrw, while Ramose married the daughter of the commander of chariotry Maya.220 Yet another Memphite family, that of the vizier Thutmose (mentioned above), also formed part of Amenhotep III’s elite government outside Memphis. Two of his sons were high priests of Ptah, Ptahmose serving in Memphis and Meriptah in Thebes, while the latter was also the steward of Amenhotep III’s funerary temple. As with Heby’s family, Thutmose’s family also likely transitioned between different kings’ reigns, in this case Thutmose IV through the early years of Amenhotep IV.221 While Memphite families were assuming greater and greater roles within Amenhotep III’s administration, the Theban family of Sennefer, which held such prominence through Amenhotep II’s reign, seems to have declined. Although Sennefer’s son-in-law Kenamun inherited the governorship of Thebes, his only other title is overseer of Amun granaries, while Sennefer held responsibility over a variety of the Amun precinct’s administrative needs. It would appear from this that widescale control over the Amun administration was no longer part of the Theban mayor’s purview. That there was still a connection between the two, is however suggested by Ptahmose who was governor of Thebes, vizier and high priest of Amun (though in what order, or which were

220   W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 194–95, 203 sqq., 213; W. Helck, Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs, 302–05, 369, 442–43 no. 16; B. Bohleke, Overseers of the Double Granaries, 209–12; R. Morkot, “NB-M¡ʿT-Rʿ–UNITED-WITH-PTAH”, JNES 49, no. 4 (1990), 323–37, esp. 323–25. 221   W.J. Murnane, “Too Many High Priests? Once Again the Ptahmoses of Ancient Memphis”, in: For His Ka: essays offered in memory of Klaus Baer, D.P. Silverman, ed. (Chicago, 1994), 187–196.



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held concurrently is unclear) during the reigns of Thutmose IV and Amenhotep III.222 The overlap among areas of administrative, military and religious authority seen during Amenhotep III’s reign is not a new phenomenon, although it does seem to be more pervasive. Cruz-Uribe has suggested that the spheres of influence represented by the military, Amun temple, and central administration under the vizier were such that they overlapped not only each other but also Amenhotep III’s power.223 In a similar vein, Eichler concludes that the decentralization of the Amun domain and concomitant increase of non-temple personnel within its administration, particularly military officials, culminates under Amenhotep III with the result that the high priests were once again holders of essentially only religious-based titles. The administrative offices, meanwhile, were held predominantly by men from the civil and military administrations.224 However, these features of Amenhotep III’s administration and officials should also be considered in light of Amenhotep III’s ideological transformation and focus on solar cults, as well as the importance of his year 30 jubilee festival. The building program undertaken by Amenhotep III throughout Egypt and Nubia, which centered on the Amun cult and as well as other major solar deities, was massive in scale, and an integral component of this was, as under Hatshepsut, the promulgation of a particular ideology of the divine king. The divinization of the king can be seen throughout Amenhotep III’s building program and iconography, especially following his year 30 jubilee.225 It is in this context that we might view the prevalence of Amun related titles among the elite of this period, a phenomenon which started already under Thutmose IV. Thus, while the Amun-related titles likely held a level of responsibility for the bearer, they could perhaps also be seen as markers of 222   B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV, 268; W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 194, 202 sq.; S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, nos. 231, 515. 223  E. Cruz-Uribe, in: For His Ka, D.P. Silverman, ed., 50. 224  S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 230–31. Of note in this regard is that Amenhotep III’s high priest of Amun Ptahmose (S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 231) was also steward of Amun and governor of Thebes, while the 2nd priest of Amun Samut (S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, no. 480) was an overseer of the house of gold and silver and dealt with sealed goods in Karnak, though perhaps this was connected to the God’s Wife domain. 225  R. Johnson, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 80–92.

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elite status, denoting those officials who were the most important and the most favored. Moreover, Amun-related titles increased not only their bearer’s prestige, but also provided him with income from the Amun domain, which was, next to the king, the wealthiest landowner in Egypt. In addition, Binder has shown that numerous officials representing a variety of administrative areas involved with Amenhotep III’s jubilee were subsequently rewarded with the gold of honor.226 This demonstrates the importance of this event both for the king and the elite, but is also perhaps indicative of the role of these officials not just in the jubilee but in Amenhotep III’s broader ideological program. Amenhotep IV / Akhenaten Akhenaten’s reign has long been seen as marking a significant break with what came before it and what came after, even though it is clear that the focus on the Aten and the king’s deification began already under Amenhotep III, and even Thutmose IV.227 Although the role of the military is often touted as the most significant factor in the success of Akhenaten’s “reforms”, this should be contextualized in light of the fact that by his reign, as we have seen, the military was largely one of professional bureaucrats. Indeed, their depiction in the Amarna tombs is clearly related to the pageantry of the royal family, not that of an overarching military presence.228 Thus their role in Akhenaten’s changes, if any, was perhaps initially focused on the administrative steps needed to carry out Akhenaten’s ideological message, while any enforcement through, for example, the erasure of Amun’s name, only occurred at a later stage.229 In addition, the fact that at least some of Akhenaten’s officials served also under Amenhotep III, and continued 226  S. Binder, Gold of Honour, 223, 241–43. She includes here not only those individuals who were clearly rewarded based on inscriptional or visual data, but also those collectively mentioned in the Rewarding Scene inscriptions in the tombs of Kheruef and Khaemhat. 227  See, e.g., Bryan, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 51; R. Johnson, in: ibid., 91–94; M. Hartwig, “A Vignette Concerning the Deification of Thutmose IV”, in: Servant of Mut. Studies in Honor of Richard A. Fazzini, S. D’Auria, ed. (Leiden/Boston, 2008), 120–125, esp. 122–24. 228   The scenes which depict large numbers of the military are those which also depict the movement of the royal family around Akhetaten during their daily processions, thus these are clearly palace guards performing a ritualistic role. Cf. B.J. Kemp, Anatomy of a Civilization, 292. 229  Especially as the proscription only occurred later in the reign. See R. Johnson, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 93.



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to serve Akhenaten following the move to Akhetaten, perhaps suggests that these men were instrumental in implementing his new ideological message. As shown by Binder, the officials rewarded by Akhenaten with the prestigious gold of honor represent a diversity of administrative areas, and include those who also served Amenhotep III as well as those newly appointed.230 This suggests that Akhenaten was at least in part using rewards to cement his power and his reforms. It would appear that Akhenaten, like Hatshepsut, utilized the basic administrative framework already in place and sought—indeed probably needed—the backing of his highest officials in order for his religious, iconographic, and geographic changes to be undertaken. That it was important for Akhenaten to retain some of his father’s officials seems all the more likely because they include men from a range of administrative areas, such as the southern vizier Ramose, northern vizier Aper-el whose son Huy was a general and scribe of nfrw under Akhenaten, the chief steward at Memphis Amenhotep Huy and his son Ipy, who was chief steward at Memphis and overseer of the great gbw in Akhetaten, the royal butler Parennefer, and the troop commander and overseer of horses (and later king) Ay who was a close advisor of Akhenaten as god’s father, and whose wife Ty was nurse to Queen Nefertiti.231 Two officials of the viceroy’s administration began their careers as underlings of Amehotep III’s and Akhenaten’s viceroys. Amenhotep Huy, who was viceroy under Tutankhamun, may also have served as King’s envoy under Akhenaten, while his deputy Amenemope was a scribe under the two previous viceroys.232 Perhaps not surprisingly, Queen Tiye’s steward Kheruef also continued to serve in the early years of Amenhotep IV/Akhenaten, based on the reliefs in his tomb that mention Amenhotep IV.233 The location of and stylistic repertoire found in the tombs of these officials also attest to the men’s 230   Among those rewarded who served also Amenhotep III are the viziers Ramose and Aper-el and royal butler Parennefer, while new officials include the overseer of the house of gold and silver Sutu, chief of Medjay Mahu, high priest of Aten Panehsy, and steward Ahmes. See Binder, Gold of Honour, 243–44. 231  N. Kawai, Studies in the Reign of Tutankhamun, PhD Dissertation, The Johns Hopkins University (Baltimore, 2005), 272, 277. I would like to thank Nozomu for sharing his as yet unpublished dissertation with me. 232  N. Kawai, Studies, 385, 390, 392. Amenhotep Huy was probably the viceroy Merymose’s “letter-writer” during the reign of Amenhotep III. See also W.J. Murnane, in: Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, E.H. Cline, D. O’Connor, eds., 178. 233   W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna period in Egypt (Atlanta, 1995), 57–61 (no. 30).

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importance during the transition from Amenhotep III to Amenhotep IV/Akhenaten. The Theban tombs of Parrenefer, Ipy and Ramose demonstrate the iconographic and textual changes that accompanied Akhenaten’s ideological shift from Amenhotep IV to Akhenaten,234 while Aper-el’s Memphite tomb (Bubasteion I.1), which was shared with his son Huy, contains funerary equipment bearing the cartouches of both kings.235 In addition, the fact that both Parrenefer and Ipy also had tombs at Amarna indicates that they continued to be prominent members of Akhenaten’s administration.236 Among the officials that Akhenaten retained, it seems that the support of established families from Memphis, like that of the high steward Ipy’s family, mentioned above,237 were central to Akhenaten’s break with the old traditions. This is also supported by the continued importance of the Memphite city with its Aten temple and necropolis during the Amarna Period.238 However, the elite of Akhmim may have   Although badly damaged, Ipy’s Theban tomb bears the cartouche of Amenhotep IV, and the figure of the king seems to have been carved into a pillar. Parennefer’s Theban tomb, like that of the vizier Ramose include scenes commonly found in both the pre-Amarna Theban repertoire and the Amarna tombs, as well as pre- and postyear 3 forms of Akhenaten’s name and style of representation. Although monuments from Saqqara do bear Ipy’s name, these may have been dedicated at the tomb of his father, rather than indicating he owned yet another tomb there. For Parennefer, TT188, see A.F. Redford, Theban Tomb No. 188 (The Tomb of Parennefer): A Case Study of Tomb Reuse in the Theban Necropolis. PhD Dissertation, Pennsylvania State University. (Pittsburgh, 2006); W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 64–66 (no. 33). For Ipy, TT136, see A. Grimm and H.A. Schlögl, Das thebanische Grab Nr. 136 und der Beginn der Amarnazeit (Weisbaden, 2005); N. Kawai, Studies, 408–10. For Ramose, TT55, see N. Davies, The tomb of the Vizier Ramose (London, 1941); W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 61–64 (no. 32). 235   A. Zivie, “Le trésor funéraire du vizir ʿAper-El”, BSFE 116 (1989): 31–44, “The ‘Treasury’ of ʿAper-El”, Egyptian Archaeology 1 (1991): 26–28, and “ ʿAper-El, Taouret et Houy: la fouille et l’enquête continuent ”, BSFE 126 (1993) : 5–16. See also A. Zivie, Découverte à Saqqarah. Le vizir oublié (Paris, 1990). 236  For Parennefer, Tomb 7, see N. Davies, The rock tombs of El Amarna VI (London, 2004); W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 177–79 (no. 78). For Ipy, Tomb 10, see N. Davies, The rock tombs of El Amarna IV (London, 2004); W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 126–28 (no. 61). A doorjamb from Ipy’s house at Amarna is also known, see W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 126 (no. 61). 237  He naturally makes no mention of his well-connected father and uncle, nor that he inherited his positions, in his Amarna tomb (no. 10), and his Theban tomb is too damaged to say whether they would have appeared here. 238   As indicated by the Memphite tombs dating to the reigns of Amenhotep III and Akhenaten: Hatiay/Raia, Bubasteion I.27, who was the scribe of the treasury of the Aton temple at Memphis under Akhenaten; the vizier Aper-el, Bubasteion I.1,whose tomb and tenure date to Amenhotep III-Akehnaten; and the so-called “painters tomb,” Bubasteion I.19, dating to the reigns of Amenhotep III-Amenhotep IV and 234



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also played a role, judging by their prevalence in the administration of both Akhenaten and Tutankhamun. Although the lineage of the god’s father Ay is unknown, he and his wife, Queen Nefertiti’s nurse Ty, both came from Akhmim, where Yuya and Thuya, the parents of Akhenaten’s mother Queen Tiye also originated, suggesting that Ay and Ty had a close royal connection, if not a familial one.239 The same might be said for the overseer of tutors Senqed, who also had a tomb at Akhmim, and thus likely came from a prestigious local family,240 and by the great one of the musical performers of Amun Taemwadjsy, who was likely a descendant of Yuya and Thuya and was also the wife of Tutankhamun’s viceroy Ahmenhotep Huy.241 Notably, once Akhenaten’s reforms are in place none of the prominent officials who were previously connected to the Amun cult, or their families, appear to continue in any way. While this might be expected due to the closure of the Amun temples and likely disbanding of the cult personnel, it is still noteworthy that we have essentially no information about them, especially given their power under previous kings. Perhaps these priests were deemed to problematic to be moved into service for the Aten, or refused to do so and were thus removed from power, though in the latter case we might then expect a series of damnatio memoriae to have befallen the monuments of prominent officials tied to the Amun precinct, which however does not seem to have happened. Once Akhenaten was established in Akhetaten, several new men appear in positions of importance, such as the vizier Nakht(paten),

bearing witness to changes undertaken during the Amarna Period. See A. Zivie, The Lost Tombs of Saqqara (Toulouse, 2007), “Un détour par Saqqara. Deir el-Médineh et la nécropole memphite”, in: Deir El-Médineh et la Vallée des Rois. La vie en Egypte au temps des pharaons du Nouvel Empire (Paris, 2003), 67–82, esp. 71–73 and “Hatiay, scrube du temple d’Aton à Memphis”, in: Egypt, Israel, and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Studies in Honor of Donald Redford, G.N. Knoppers and A. Hirsch, eds. (Leiden/Boston, 2004), 223–31. The tomb of Meryneith (Meryre) might also be cited here as it likely was started in the early years of Amenhotep IV’s reign, and was finished only after Meryneith returned to Memphis from Amarna under Tutankhamun. See Kawai, Studies, 490–96. 239   Although he does share significant wall space with his wife Ty in his (their?) Amarna tomb, no. 25, this is likely due to her being the nurse of Queen Nefertiti. 240   Kawai, Studies, 439–46. For the tomb, see B. Ockinga, A Tomb from the reign of Tutankhamun at Akhmim (Warminster, 1997). 241  See Kawai, Studies, 384–86, 396–97, 516–18, 589.

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chamberlain Tutu, and high priest of Aten Panehsy.242 Because during Akhenaten’s reign the identity and success of an elite was tied directly to the king and his favor,243 biographical information is virtually unknown, making it difficult to assess the family background of Akhenaten’s officials. Nonetheless, it is reasonable to assume that those men who were newly instated by Akhenaten largely came from elite backgrounds. Indeed, from those few tombs or monuments outside of Amarna belonging to Akhenaten’s officials that do provide more information, it appears that some at least came from (lower?) elite families. For example, the father of Akhenaten’s high priest of Aten at Memphis Meryneith/Meryre was a s¡b, as was the father of the general (later overseer of the treasury) May(a), while Tutankhamun’s wet-nurse Maia likely came from a prominent Abydene family.244 In the provinces it would appear that the administration continued much as it had before Akhenaten’s reign, with mayoral offices often being hereditary and connected to the local cult.245 Several craftsmen and artisans are also known from Akhenaten’s reign, including the overseer of works and sculptor Userhat-Hatiay and chief sculptor Bak, who were both sons of chief sculptor under Amenhotep III, the master of works Thutmose, and master painters Djehutymes and Kenna.246 It is

242   Others include the treasurer Sutu, tomb 19; general May(a), tomb 14; chief of Medjay Mahu, tomb 9; chief physician Penthu, tomb 5; king’s steward Ahmes, tomb 3; and Queen Tiye’s steward Huya, tomb 1. See N. Davies, The rock tombs of El Amarna III–V for the publications of these tombs. 243  See H. Guksch, Königsdienst, 21 sqq., 27, passim. 244  For Meryneith/Meryre, see N. Davies, The rock tombs of El Amarna I (London, 2004); M.J. Raven,  “Méryneith ou Méryrê, intendant ou scribe sous Akhénaton”, Isiaca 1 (2006): 47–57; N. Kawai, Studies, 490–96. May(a) is the owner of both tomb 14 at Amarna and a tomb at Saqarra, see N. Davies, The rock tombs of El Amarna V (London, 2004); G.T. Martin, The Hidden Tombs of Memphis (London, 1991),147–188; G.T. Martin, et al., The Tomb of Maya and Meryt, I: The reliefs, Inscriptions, and Commentary (London, 2012); N. Kawai, Studies, 322–334. Maia’s tomb is Bubasteion I.20, see A. Zivie, “The tomb of the lady Maïa, wet-nurse of Tutankhamun”, Egyptian Archaeology 13 (1998): 7–8, “A propos de la tombe de Maïa, nourrice de Toutankhamon”, Égypte, Afrique et Orient 13 (1999): 9–18 and The Lost Tombs of Saqqara, 72-98; N. Kawai, Studies, 446–51. 245  For example the mayor of Nefrusy Yuna (reign of Amenhotep III) was succeeded by his son Mahu during Akhenaten’s reign. See Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 47–49 (no. 20). 246  Userhat-Hatiay: N. Kawai, Studies, 370–76. Bak: W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 128–30 (no. 63). Thutmose: house P47.1–3 at Amarna, see R. Krauss, “Der Bildhauer Thutmose in Amarna”, Jahrbuch Preussischer Kulturbesitz 20 (1983): 119–132; Djhutymes and Kenna are the owners of Bubasteion I.19, see A. Zivie, The Lost Tombs of Saqqara, 26–51, 66–71.



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clear that as in earlier times there continued to be families of craftsmen, but under Akhenaten the favored status of some of these men attest to their importance in promulgating Akhenaten’s artistic changes. As might be expected, given the pervasive focus of the king and the Aten during Akhenaten’s reign, a connection to one or both of these areas seems to have been a marker of elite status for Akhenaten’s officials, perhaps indicating Akhenaten’s need to rely on a few very trusted officials. For example, Akhenaten’s chamberlain Tutu was both overseer of all works, crafts, and houses of gold and silver for the king and overseer of the treasury of the Aten temple. Tutu’s prominent role under Akhenaten is further indicated by the several letters from the Amarna correspondence which are addressed to him, indicating Tutu’s status as one whom could speak on the king’s behalf.247 The close relationship between the king and the military is demonstrated by the titles held by those military officials who were amongst Akhenaten’s favored elite and thus granted tombs: the chief of Medjay Mahu (no. 9), and generals May(a) (no. 14), Ramose (no. 11), and Paatenemhab (the later (king) Horemheb, no. 24).248 The latter three were also royal stewards, and May(a) and Paatenemhab were also overseers of works, indicating not only their position at court, but perhaps also a role in overseeing Akhenaten’s program of reforms. It may also be part of an overall militarization of administrative personnel, as suggested by Gnirs,249 and which certainly seems to take place following Akhenaten’s reign. Post—Amarna Kings: Tutankhamun, Ay and Horemheb Untangling the intricacies of the administration during the postAmarna Period, under the last kings of the dynasty, Tutankhamun, Ay and Horemheb, is complicated by several important elements. First, Ay, Horemheb, and May(a) were elite officials who rose in status and power under Akhenaten and Tutankhamun, effectively ruling the country for Tutankhamun. Second, there was likely a struggle

 See W.L. Moran, The Amarna Letters (Baltimore, 1992), 244–45 (EA 158), 251–52 (EA 164), 254–56 (EA 167, 169). 248   As noted above, while military officials feature prominently in Amarna tomb depictions, I understand this less as an indicator of the military’s prominence during his reign than as an indicator of what the royal procession entailed, complete with palace guards. 249   A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 172 sqq. 247

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for power between Ay and Horemheb both before the death of Tutankhamun and following it, during which time they each assumed the throne.250 Third, while many officials appear to have served under all three men, some even continuing from Akhenaten’s reign, it appears that the backgrounds of Ay and Horemheb played a role in who gained prominence in their administrations. In addition, one must take into account the role of officials throughout the administration in the abandonment of Amarna and the Aten cult and return to Memphis and orthodoxy, which resulted in the re-opening of temples throughout Egypt and the reinstating of their personnel, and culminated in the erasure of Akhenaten and the Amarna Period from Egypt’s history.251 Tutankhamun As a “boy-king,” Tutankhamun seems to have largely been under the influence of three of Akhenaten’s officials: god’s father Ay, general and high steward Horemheb, and overseer of the treasury May(a). Horemheb was likely the most influential of the three, utilizing his power as general to oversee the entire administration of the country, effectively acting as Tutankhamun’s regent. Ay continued to act as a court advisor, as he had done for Akhenaten, and in this role became increasingly powerful. Although May(a) did not exceed his authority in the way that Horemheb and Ay did, this might be due to his being promoted to his final position of overseer of the treasury under Tutankhamun, particularly since he may been a subordinate of Horemheb during the reign of Akhenaten, judging from his military titles. Indeed, his favored status under Horemheb’s reign can be seen in his role in implementing the restoration program, duties which he carried out as overseer of all works of the king and overseer of all the works of Amun in Karnak.252 However, as might be expected, several of Akhenaten’s other officials continued to serve under Tutanhkamun. These include the viceroy Amenhotep Huy, overseer of the treasury Meryre (II), Meryre (II)’s

 See N. Kawai, “Ay versus Hoemheb,” JEgH 3.2 (2010): 261–292.   The recent work of Nozomu Kawai on the reign of Tutankhamun and the gathering of documentation related to his officials enables a clearer picture to emerge, and his conclusions have formed the basis of the brief discussion presented here. I am very grateful to Nozomu for allowing me to cite his PhD dissertation. See N. Kawai, Studies, esp. 268–600 and JEgH 3.2 (2010): 261–292. 252  See N. Kawai, Studies, 269–334. 250 251



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successor May(a) who was a general and steward under Akhenaten and promoted by Tutankhamun, chief steward in Akhetaten and Memphis Ipy, high priest of Aten and Neith Meryneith, scribe of the treasury of the Aten temple (in Memphis) Hatiay/Raia, overseer of tutors Senqed, royal butler Ptahemwia, and sculptor and overseer of works Userhat-Hatiay. The fact that they represent the upper echelon of a variety of administrative areas suggests that they also played a significant role in running the country for Tutankhamun. Indeed, Userhat was likely in charge of the royal workshop and thus responsible for the iconographic program of the king, an especially important job as Tutankhamun moved from the Amarna-style (back) to more traditional representations. Some of these men might also be depicted in the tomb of Tutankhamun’s nurse Maia, where they appear adoring her and Tutankhamun, who is seated on her lap, a scene Zivie and Kawai read as signifying their prominence and power under Tutankkhamun.253 The power of Tutankhamun’s officials may also be suggested by the number of inherited positions and the presence of multiple family members serving in prominent posts during his reign.254 This seems to be particularly the case among officials whose origins stem from Upper Egypt. For example, Tutankhamun’s southern vizier Usermonthu, who was from Armant and the son of a standard bearer, had a brother Huy who was a high priest of Montu.255 Similarly, from Thinis came the high priest of Amun Parennefer/Wennefer, and his brother the high priest of Min and Isis. Parrenefer was also high priest of Onuris, a position his son Hori inherited, while another son, Ameneminet, was a prominent military official into the reign of Ramesses II.256 In addition, the viceroy Amenhotep Huy, whose son, Paser, became viceroy under Ay and continued in the post under Horemheb, had 253  N. Kawai, Studies, 449; A. Zivie, “La nourrice royale Maïa et ses voisins. Cinq tombeaux du Nouvel Empire récemment découverts à Saqqara”, Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (Janvier-Mars 1998): 33–54, esp. 53. 254  N. Kawai, Studies, 589–90. 255  N. Kawai, Studies, 335–40. 256  N. Kawai, Studies, 460–70. Parennefer/Wennefer’s tomb is Kampp, –162–, see F. Kampp, Die thebanische Nekropole. Zum Wandel des Grabgedankens von der XVIII. bis zur XX. Dynastie (Mainz am Rhein, 1996), 713–16. See also F. Kampp, “Vierter Vorbericht über die Arbeiten des Ägyptologischen Instituts der Universität Heidelberg in thebanischen Gräbern der Ramessidenzeit”, MDAIK 50 (1994): 175–188, and F.Kampp and K.J. Seyfried, “Rückkehr nach Theben”, Antike Welt 26 (1995): 325–342.

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married into a prominent Akhmim family.257 Also from Akhmim can be counted Tutankhamun’s second priest of Amun Ay,258 and the general and fan-bearer on the right of the king Nakhtmin,259 indicating how men from this area spanned the administration. Ay and Horemheb The influence of elites from Akhmim, which had begun under Amenhotep III, culminated in the rise of the god’s father Ay from courtier to king following the death of Tutankhamun. In addition, the general Nakhtmin, mentioned above, was elevated by Ay to be his appointed heir.260 It seems probable that these families were instrumental in cementing Ay’s role, especially as they disappear from the record following Horemheb’s accession to the throne, and Senqed’s Akhmim tomb shows evidence for a damntio memoriae,261 while other officials promoted by Ay, such as the chief physician Nay—who gained in stature nearly as much as Nakhtmin—bear no such destruction.262 Ay’s reign was so short that it is certain that many officials who served Tutankhamun remained in their positions under Ay, and overall continued to serve under Horemheb as well. These men span the areas of the administration, including the vizier of the south Usermonthu, overseer of the treasury May(a) and his brother the steward Nahuher, high priest of Amun Parrennefer/Wennefer, overseer of the double granary Siese, scribe of the treasury Iniuia whose promotion to chief steward in Memphis possibly came from Horemheb, the mayor of Memphis and royal herald Sakeh, royal butler Ipay, and the overseer of the king’s private apartments Pay, whose father Amenemheb was a chief retainer under Tutankhamun. The increased familial information that we have for officials serving under Ay and Horemheb demonstrates that the descendants of many officials are often found serving in similar areas of administration, or even inheriting positions. Whether this was true under Akhenaten  N. Kawai, Studies, 383–92.  N. Kawai, Studies, 470–72. Ay’s mother was the sister of King Ay’s wife Ty, and thus it may be that Ay promoted him to 2nd priest. 259  N. Kawai, Studies, 521–27. 260  N. Kawai, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 286–88. 261   B. Ockinga, A Tomb from the reign of Tutankhamun at Akhmim, 57–58; N. Kawai, Studies, 445–46. 262   Kawai, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 286. For his tomb, TT271, see L. Habachi and P. Anus, Le tombeau de Nay à Gournet Marʾei (no. 271) (Cairo, 1977). 257 258



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is unclear, but it seems likely that this practice expanded under Tutankhamun and his successors, as it would have given a means for these kings to ensure the loyalty of officials. The placement of officials’ sons throughout various areas of administration was also related to the restoration of the temples and their cults during this period. From the Restoration Stela we learn that the reinstatement of temple cults involved installing priests to serve in them who came from important provincial and military families. Kawai suggests that Horemheb was the actual architect of the decree,263 thus we should perhaps not be surprised at the staffing of the temple ranks with men from military backgrounds. For example, the overseer of double granaries Siese’s brother was a scribe of the granary while two of Siese’s sons were part of the royal granary and treasury administrations during this period, another was a stable-master, and a fourth like his grandfather was part of the Memphite Aten temple administration.264 The viceroy under Horemheb was Paser,265 the son of Tutankhamun’s viceroy Amenhotep Huy. Since both of these men preceded their tenure as viceroy as military officials, and Paser’s brother Tjuri was also in the military, it is possible that they served under Horemheb before he became king.266 We also see this combination of military and inherited position with the overseer of royal apartments Pay and his son Raia/Ramose. While Raia, like one of his brothers, started his career in the military, under Horemheb he inherited his father’s post in Memphis, serving into the reign of Ramesses I; his two other brothers were part of the royal and Ptah temple treasury administration respectively.267 The family of the god’s father of Amun Ameneminet, provides excellent example of temple families starting under Tutankhamun and blossoming under Horemheb. Ameneminet’s own father worked in the Amun precinct under Tutankhamun, while all of his children—9 sons and 3 daughters—bear titles relating to the cult of Amun; his son Neferhotep, known from TT50, was god’s father of Amun under Horemeheb.268

 N. Kawai, Studies, 584 sq.  N. Kawai, Studies, 361–64. 265  N. Kawai, Studies, 535–36. 266  N. Kawai, Studies, 383–92 and literature cited there. 267  N. Kawai, Studies, 411–17, 536–37. 268  N. Kawai, Studies, 472–73. 263 264

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Horemheb’s pre-royal career under Akhenaten was military-based, while under Tutankhamun his influence at court as the Generalissimo and king’s deputy paralleled that of Ay.269 This certainly contributed to the prominence of military men among the officials who served first Tutankhamun, and later king Horemheb. Among Horemheb’s own subordinates are Khaemwaset who served under Horemheb as overseer of archers, the troop-commander and deputy of the army Ramose, who is depicted in Horemheb’s Saqqara tomb,270 while the overseer of the treasury May(a)’s brother Parennefer was also a troop commander and overseer of horses.271 As already mentioned, Horemheb’s viceroy Paser started in the lower ranks of the military, while the high priest of Amun Parennefer/Wennefer’s son Ameneminet also rose in prominence in the military, eventually becoming troop commander under Ramesses II.272 Finally, Horemheb’s vizier Paramessu also came from a military background as chief of archers and governor of the fortress of Tjaru. He was appointed by Horemheb as his heir and thus followed Horemehb’s own trajectory—from military official to civil administrator at the highest level, to prince regent, to king as Ramesses I.

 See N. Kawai, JEgH 3.1 (2010): 269 sqq.  N. Kawai, Studies, 527–29. For his tomb at Saqqara see G.T. Martin, The Tombs of Three Memphite Officials: Ramose, Khay and Pabes (London, 2001), The Memphite Tomb of Horemheb, Commander-in-Chief of Tut’ankhamûn, I (London, 1989) and The Hidden Tombs of Memphis, 35–100. 271  N. Kawai, Studies, 532–33. 272  N. Kawai, Studies, 460–62, 465. 269 270

The Rising Power of the House of Amun in the New Kingdom* Ben Haring “Thebes Is the Pattern for Every City” Thus runs the popular translation of a poetic description of the New Kingdom city of Thebes.1 The passage in which it occurs can be translated more appropriately as follows: Thebes is more just (mty) than all (other) cities (. . .). They are given the name ‘city’ under the supervision of Thebes, the Eye of Re (. . .). All cities are in her shadow, in order to magnify themselves through Thebes. She is the just one. (P. Leiden I 350 recto II 10–15)2

Egyptologists have no trouble understanding this text, since they are familiar with the prominence of Thebes as the religious centre of Egypt during the New Kingdom. The “justness” of Thebes lies in one thing that is implicit in the above passage: its temple, or rather its network of temples dedicated to Amun-Re, the heart of which was the great complex of Ipet-sut (Karnak). Indeed, among the Amun temples of Thebes, Karnak was in its turn the “just” or “actual” one: in an inscription mainly concerned with his own memorial temple in Western Thebes, Ramesses III refers to Thebes itself (i.e. east of the Nile) as “your (i.e. Amun’s) actual temple” (ḥ w.t=k mty.t).3 The great old temple at Karnak is here put in contrast with the king’s new mortuary foundation at Medinet Habu. About three centuries earlier, King Thutmose III * I wish to thank Brian Muhs for reading a draft of this chapter, and for correcting my English. 1   C.F. Nims, Thebes of the Pharaohs: Pattern for Every City (1965), 69; B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt. Anatomy of a Civilization (2nd ed., 2006), 265. 2  Following the Dutch rendering by J. Zandee, De hymnen aan Amon van Papyrus Leiden I 350 (1947), 25. Cf. A.H. Gardiner, “Hymns to Amun from a Leiden Papyrus”, ZÄS 42 (1905), 21: “Thebes testifies to every city”, reading mtr “to testify” instead of mty “to be just/precise”. For the latter stem, see A.H. Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar. Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs (3rd ed., 1957), 456, note 2 to D 50; H. Donker van Heel and B.J.J. Haring, Writing in a Workman’s Village. Scribal Practice in Ramesside Deir el-Medina (2003), 118, note 211. 3   KRI V, 118, 2.

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even referred to the central temple of Amun within the Karnak complex as “the just (or: actual) temple of the House of Amun” (ḥ w.t-nṯr mty.t n.t pr ’Imn).4 The contrast made here is with one of Thutmose’s own additions to the Karnak temple: the so-called Festival Temple or ¡ḫ-mnw. One private inscription of the Eighteenth Dynasty indicates that the Theban temple constellation served as an example for the temples in Memphis. The high royal steward Amenhotep describes the memorial temple erected by Amenhotep III near the main temple of Ptah, and adds: His Majesty caused this temple to be on the endowment (sḏf¡) of the temple of Ptah in all its writings, just like those temples of those kings of Upper and Lower Egypt that are beside His Father in the Southern City (i.e. Thebes). (Inscription of the high steward Amenhotep, col. 21)5

In addition to the monumental inscriptions of kings and officials and their religious settings, texts on papyrus provide indications for the prominence of the Theban temples in an administrative setting. The Great Harris Papyrus extensively enumerates the benefactions of Ramesses III for the temples of Egypt during his thirty-one-year reign. The text not only makes clear that the king’s most lavish building activity and endowments were spent on Thebes; it also shows the traditional order in which the Egyptian temples were presented in administrative documents: Thebes—Heliopolis—Memphis, followed by minor religious centres.6 One truly administrative document keeping to this order is the Wilbour Papyrus, a long agrarian survey from the reign of Ramesses V.7 The same is done in a papyrus pertaining to agrarian administration of the Third Intermediate Period.8 4   A.H. Gardiner, “Tuthmosis III returns Thanks to Amun”, JEA 38 (1952), pl. VI, col. 63. The expression ḥ w.t-nṯr n.t pr ’Imn also occurs in the Late Egyptian story of Khonsemhab and the spirit (col. IV, line x+6: J. von Beckerath, “Zur Geschichte von Chonsemhab und der Geist”, ZÄS 119 (1992), 99 and 104). 5   Urk. IV, 1796, 9–11; R.G. Morkot, “Nb-M¡ʿt-Rʿ-united-with-Ptah”, JNES 49 (1990), 328–330. 6  For the Great Harris Papyrus in general, see P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I 1–3 (1994–1999). 7   A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus I–IV (1941–1952). 8   P. Ashmolean Museum 1945.94 + Louvre AF 6345: A. Gasse, Données nouvelles administratives et sacerdotales sur l’organisation du domaine d’Amon, XXe–XXIe dynasties, à la lumière des papyrus Prachov, Reinhardt et Grundbuch (avec édition princeps des papyrus Louvre AF 6345 et 6346–7) I–II (1988), 3–73, pls. 1–31, 78–98;



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It is true that the Theban temples are the best documented ones of New Kingdom Egypt, whereas relatively little information has survived concerning the huge temple estates of Heliopolis, Memphis and other religious places, and this documentary situation might be suspected of presenting a view with a strong Theban bias. This it certainly does, but at the same time, the Theban documentation as well as that pertaining to other Egyptian temples show that the New Kingdom pharaohs usually concentrated their building and endowment policy on Thebes as the prime religious pillar of their kingship. Thebes probably benefited most from the tribute and spoils with which the Eighteenth Dynasty kings returned from their military campaigns abroad. The Ramesside kings enlarged the Karnak temple on an unprecedented scale, while erecting their own huge memorial temples on the Theban west bank. Although royal memorial temples were constructed in other religious centres as well, there can be no doubt that the king’s priority was his own Theban temple, which was close to Amun’s “actual” house, as well as to the royal tomb. The clear picture emerging from the above paragraphs is that, to the minds of the ancient Egyptians, Thebes was of central religious importance, being the place of Amun’s “just” or “actual” temple among many others all over Egypt, and the central Karnak temple of Amun was the “just” one when compared to other Theban shrines, or even to Karnak temples more specifically. The same central Amun temple of Karnak, the remains of which are still the most impressive temple ruins of Egypt today, was the heart of the “House of Amun”. The aim of this chapter will be to analyse the administrative structure of this House of Amun, and to reconstruct its development, in the course of the New Kingdom, from a provincial temple to the power base of the Theban theocracy in the Third Intermediate Period.9

S.P. Vleeming, “Review of A. Gasse, Données nouvelles”, Enchoria 18 (1991), 217–227; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households. Administrative and Economic Aspects of the New Kingdom Royal Memorial Temples in Western Thebes (1997), 330–332. 9  For the nature and development of this theocracy, see M. Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten am Ende des Neuen Reiches. Ein religionsgeschichtliches Phänomen und seine sozialen Grundlagen (1994); K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Der thebanische ‘Gottesstaat’ ”, Or. 70 (2001), 153–182.

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The following analysis is based on two methodological principles. (1) The most reliable sources for the reconstruction of administrative structures and practice are administrative records. Texts from ceremonial contexts (such as hieroglyphic texts in temples and tombs) express themselves on a religious and ideological level, involving the use of metaphorical language. Administrative texts present us with information of a more practical nature, and therefore seem to be more “true”.10 At the same time, they do have the disadvantage of having been preserved even more patchily than monumental records, and of presupposing contextual knowledge of the daily administrative practice they reflect. It is important to note that administrative documents of the Eighteenth Dynasty are even rarer than those of the Ramesside Period. As a consequence, temple administration in the early New Kingdom must be reconstructed mainly on the basis of monumental texts, i.e. titles mentioned in private funerary inscriptions, and the autobiographies of the title bearers. Reconstruction on the basis of titles alone is difficult: in the absence of other evidence, we are inclined to take the meaning of titles at face value, whereas administrative texts teach us that there are often considerable discrepancies between a specific functionary’s titles and his actual duties.11 If (many) different titles are known to have been held by the same person, it is often uncertain if these titles were held simultaneously, or if they represent stages in the holder’s career. Finally, the hierarchy and functional interrelations of individual titles are difficult to establish. Thus, for instance, Selke Eichler’s discussion of the supreme authority in the Amun temple domain is essentially about the titles “steward of (the House of ) Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr n (pr) ’Imn) and “high steward of Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr wr n ’Imn).12 These titles 10   The importance of distinguishing between these two types of sources has been made clear in B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 35–36, 363–364, and more recently by E. Bleiberg, “State and Private Enterprise”, in The Egyptian World, T. Wilkinson, ed. (2010), 175–176. 11   K. Exell, and C. Naunton, “The Administration”, in: The Egyptian World, T. Wilkinson, ed. (2010), 96: “Relying on titles to inform us of the administrative structures operating in Egypt at any one time can lead to a reading of the administration as a rigid and compartmentalized bureaucracy.”, and ibid., 97: “Investigating the actual administration of Ancient Egypt becomes a complex analysis of the authoritywielder, not the title-holder.” 12  S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun” in der 18. Dynastie (2000), 9–24.



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were held by various high functionaries, especially by mayors of Thebes and high priests of Amun, who therefore would seem to have held supreme responsibility alternatively. The same titles are also attested for the late New Kingdom, but in administrative papyri of that period, it is the high priest of Amun who appears as the supreme local authority (See below, Historical Outline). Contrary to Eighteenth Dynasty practice, the high priests of the Ramesside Period never seem to have held the title of (high) steward of the Karnak estate.13 This in itself is a formal administrative difference, but one may question the relevance of that difference to the actual responsibilities and increasing power of the high priests. The administrative responsibilities of the high priest are even explicitly mentioned in a Ramesside monumental text: the speech of king Ramesses II appointing Nebwenenef as high priest of Amun, carved in hieroglyphs together with a depiction of the ceremony in Nebwenenef’s tomb: You are (now) high priest of Amun. His treasury and his granary are under your seal. You are the chief supervisor of his temple; all his provisions are under your authority. (Appointment text in Theban Tomb 157, lines 5–6)14

Nebwenenef does not seem to have held the title of temple steward, or any other non-priestly administrative title. Even the title of high priest itself does not indicate an unchanging position in the administrative hierarchy: by the end of the Third Intermediate Period, for instance,

13  H. Kees, Das Priestertum im ägyptischen Staat vom Neuen Reich bis zur Spätzeit (1953), 124: “Wir müssen bis in die mittlere 18. Dynastie zurückgreifen, um Hohepriester mit Amtmannstiteln des Amun zu finden.” See the references in W. Helck, Materialien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Neuen Reiches I (1961), (29)-(30). Note that Amenemope is mentioned in P. Berlin P 3047 from year 46 of Ramesses II; not year 54 (cf. ibid., (29): “unpubl. Berl. Prozeßprotokoll”; the reference “Budge, Collection Meux pl. 15” is irrelevant in this context). Thutmose (owner of TT 32) lived under Ramesses II; not in the late Twentieth Dynasty (cf. ibid., (29); see now L. Kákosy et al., The Mortuary Monument of Djehutymes (TT 32) (2004), 355–359). He was “high steward of Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr wr n ʾImn) and “overseer of fields of Amun” (ἰm.y-r ¡ḥ .w.t n ’Imn: G. Schreiber, The Mortuary Monument of Djehutymes II (2008), 85). The steward Ramessesnakht mentioned in P. Amiens + Baldwin recto, if identical with the high priest of that name, was actually high steward of the memorial temple of Ramesses III (J.J. Janssen, Grain Transport in the Ramesside Period. Papyrus Baldwin (BM EA 10061) and Papyrus Amiens (2004), 34–35; see also below, pp. 630–631). Note, however, that a distinction is made between “the steward” and “the high priest” (both anonymous) on the verso of the papyrus (ibid., 66–67). 14   KRI III, 283, 8–9; KRITA III, 202.

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the high priests of Amun seem to have been of little significance.15 The Amun temple stewards of the Ramesside Period, meanwhile, were not unimportant people: they were responsible for agrarian domains and grain ships of the Karnak temple,16 but other domains and ships were managed by different officials (including the high priest); this is a type of information obtained from records of agrarian administration, which we do not possess for the Eighteenth Dynasty. Whereas monumental inscriptions present the temples and their administration in archaic and idealized terms,17 the administrative papyri show us glimpses of actual practice. This is not only true for the responsabilities of individual functionaries, but also for the organization of the institutions they were attached to. Hieroglyphic endowment texts and protective decrees create the impression that the king donated land and cattle for exclusive use by the gods and their temples, and that these assets were thus lost to other sectors of society. Records of agrarian administration, on the contrary, indicate that temple fields and cattle were hired out to private cultivators, and that considerable parts of temple estates consisted of royal domains (the so-called khato lands), which were merely managed by temple administrators in exchange for minor shares of the crops. Thus, whereas monumental records emphasise institutional autonomy, administrative texts show manifold interdependence.18 (2) Administrative units referred to by different Egyptian expressions are better kept separate until careful research reveals that they were inseparably intertwined, or even identical. It has become clear from the previous paragraph that the emphasis on separate and autonomous institutions in monumental inscriptions may be refined or even contradicted by administrative records. In the absence of such

15   The office having been effectively eclipsed by that of the God’s Wife of Amun, and even by the holders of lower priestly positions: M.L. Bierbrier, “Hoherpriester des Amun”, LÄ II (1977), 1248; see K. Jansen-Winkeln, Or. 70 (2001), 179 and 180; K. Exell and C. Naunton, in: The Egyptian World, 100. 16   The anonymous “steward of Amun” in P. Wilbour text A, 21, 33; 44, 3; 75, 3 (A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus I, pls. 9, 20, 36) and in P. Amiens recto 3, 13 (J.J. Janssen, Grain Transport in the Ramesside Period, 34; perhaps identical with the anonymous “steward” on the verso of the document: ibid., 67). 17   Cf. B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 248: “Ancient Egypt has a modern reputation for extreme cultural conservatism. But the New Kingdom demonstrates that this is itself something of a myth, brought about by confusion between form and substance. Circumstances had changed, and basic ideology and practices were adapting to them.” 18  Ibid., 256.



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indications, however, it is no use blurring the distinctions suggested by Egyptian expressions. This point will prove to be especially important with respect to the different Theban temples and their interrelations. “House” and Temple “Estate” If one wishes to establish the administrative status and structure of ancient Egyptian temples, several Egyptian key notions must be considered: pr “house”, ḥ tp-nṯr “god’s offering”, and sdf (or sḏf¡) “provision”. Every temple was obviously considered the house (pr) of the deity worshiped in it, and who literally lived in it. The word was therefore an appropriate religious metaphor, but opinions differ on the questions if and how pr referred to the temple also as an administrative unit. Recent discussions emphasize that, although pr includes the economic side of a house (or rather household), its meaning remains so wide that it does not convey any particular administrative or economic notion.19 This explains the different translations of pr by Egyptologists, all somehow appropriate: “house”, “domain”, or “estate”. It also explains how a temple building, itself a “house”, could at the same time be the centre of a house(hold) or “estate”, an institution including administration and assets. It was in this sense that Thutmose III could distinguish between the actual temple of Karnak, and the House of Amun of which it was the centre (ḥ w.t-nṯr mty.t n.t pr ’Imn; see above, note 4). The “House (or Estate) of Amun”, then, is taken by Egyptologists to mean the estate of the Karnak temple, usually including other Theban temples depending on it, as a religiously and administratively defined institution.20 It is even more specifically regarded as an exceptionally important, self-sufficient economic unit, a ‘state

19   B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 32–33; M. Römer, “Hauswirtschaft—Häuserwirtschaft—Gesamtwirtschaft. ‘Ökonomie’ im pharaonischen Ägypten”, Or 78 (2009), 2–3. 20  Some selected, recent statements: the phrases n ’Imn or n pr ’Imn in titles identify the bearers as “Mitglied der Tempelverwaltung von Karnak oder der angeschlossenen Tempel” (S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 3); the Karnak temple was “the centre of the “estate of Amun”, a national religious and economic institution that, fed by the fruits of pharaonic conquests and self-promotion, became the single most powerful and influential priestly body in Egypt.” (G.E. Kadish, “Karnak”, in: D.B. Redford (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopaedia of Ancient Egypt 2 (2001), 224).

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within the state’.21 Other interpretations rather stress the religious and architectural meanings of the expression.22 Even more controversial is the interpretation of the phrase “in the House of Amun” (m pr ’Imn), despite—or perhaps rather due to—the great number of discussions that have been devoted to it. The phrase is attested in the names of temples, deities and cult statues from the late Eighteenth Dynasty onwards. Thus, for instance, the Theban memorial temple of Ramesses II (the Ramesseum) could be referred to as the “Temple of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Usermaatre Setpenre—life, prosperity, health—in the House of Amun”.23 The god Amun as worshiped in the Nubian temple of Ramesses II in Wadi el-Sebua was called “Amun of Ramesses Meriamun in the House of Amun”.24 Similar phrases were composed with the names of Re, Ptah, and Osiris. Such phrases are generally thought to express not only religious, but also (or even mainly) administrative attachment of a temple or a statue cult to a bigger temple of Amun, Re, Ptah, or Osiris. Temples thus designated would have been ‘satellites’ of the chief temples of the deities named in prominent cult centres, such as Thebes, Heliopolis, Memphis or Abydos.25 Investigation has shown, however, that this theory is difficult to support. Administrative and economic dependence of temples on a bigger, central temple is more precisely   “Temple endowments include people to carry out all the necessary tasks for a self-sufficient economy, until at the extreme, the House of Amun in the Twentieth Dynasty was effectively a state itself.” (C.J. Eyre, “The Economy: Pharaonic”, in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (2010), vol. I, 305). Entirely opposed to such a view is Dieter Kessler, who regards pr ’Imn as a coordinating state organization embracing temples, but essentially keeping their provisions at the disposal of the king: D. Kessler, Die heiligen Tiere und der König, Teil I: Beiträge zu Organisation, Kult und Theologie der spätzeitlichen Tierfriedhöfe (1989), 47; idem, “pr + Göttername als Sakralbereich der staatlichen Administration im Neuen Reich”, in: Altägyptische Weltsichten, F. Adrom and A. Schlüter, eds (2008), 65–104. 22   According to B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 274, the Estate of Amun was a network of sacred places within one and the same processional perimeter. For pr ’Imn as a primarily religious notion, see B.J.J. Haring, “Temple or Domain? Critical Remarks on the Expression pr Imn in New Kingdom Administrative Texts”, in: Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists, Cambridge, 3–9 September 1995, C.J. Eyre, ed., (1998), 539–545. 23  So in P. Wilbour text A, col. 32, l. 36: A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus I, pl. 15. 24  See R.G. Morkot, JNES 49 (1990), 323–337. 25  So most recently S.S. Eichler (see note 20), and S. Häggman, Directing Deir el-Medina. The External Administration of the Necropolis (2002), 136; K. Exell and C. Naunton in: The Egyptian World, 95. For older references, see B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 30. 21



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expressed in other ways. One is the word “provision” (sḏf¡), which has already come to our notice above, in the inscription of the high steward Amenhotep. The memorial temple built by Amenhotep III in Memphis was “on the provision” of the temple of Ptah, and this situation actually copied that of the temples of the king and his predecessors in Thebes. These, by inference, were all “on the provision” of the temple of Amun, that is, of Karnak. The same word sḏf¡ (in its alternative spelling sdf ) is used four times in P. Harris I. According to that document, numerous cult statues, as well as a newly founded town in the Nile delta, had been put on the sdf of the House of Amonrasonter by Ramesses III.26 The Karnak temple was to protect the cult statues and to answer for them; this is probably a reference to the administrative responsibility expressed by sdf, just like the phrase “in all its documents” in the inscription of Amenhotep. Interestingly, the name of the new town (which is called “House of Ramesses Ruler of Heliopolis l.p.h. Great of Victories”) does not include the phrase “in the House of Amun”. Even more surprising is the fact that personnel newly assigned to the temples of Atum and Ptah in Heliopolis and Memphis were “on the provision” of the king’s own memorial temples there.27 Two centuries earlier, under Amenhotep III, the royal memorial temples in Thebes and Memphis were themselves on the provision of the temples of Amun and Ptah, and thus presumably in an administratively subordinate position. It seems that, between the early and late New Kingdom, the royal memorial temples underwent a shift in administrative status with respect to the main temples of the local deities. But it was only in the second half of the New Kingdom, the Ramesside Period, that the phrase “in the House of Amun” had become a current part of the names of memorial temples and other newly founded temples. Another way in which economic or administrative dependence among Theban temples was expressed was “in the retinue” (ἰm.y-ḫt). This expression occurs once, in a text accompanying the scene of weighing out quantities of incense to be distributed to various Theban temples, in the Eighteenth Dynasty tomb of Puyemre.28 The weighing probably took place in a treasury at Karnak, and the receiving temples 26   P. Harris I 10, 12; 11, 1–3: P. Grandet, Papyrus Harris I 1, 236 (there translated “administrativement rattachés”). 27   P. Harris I 31, 4; 51a, 7: ibid., 266 and 292. 28  N. de Garis Davies, The Tomb of Puyemrê at Thebes I (1922), 92, pl. XL.

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are said to be “in the retinue of the House of Amun”. The incense distributed was part of the royal ἰn.w: goods brought by the king from his military campaigns abroad, handed over by him to the “temple of Amun” (ḥ w.t-nṯr [n.t] ’Imn), and distributed there to a number of Theban temples. Foremost among these are the Karnak temples of Amun, Mut and Khonsu, but they also include the royal memorial temples on the west bank of the Nile. One of the facts to be deduced from the above paragraphs is that the phrase “in the House of Amun” (m pr ’Imn) does not quite overlap with more precise expressions for administrative incorporation or economic dependence. A town that was “on the provision” of the House of Amun was not stated to be “in the House of Amun”, and memorial temples of Ramesses III in the House of Re or Ptah were actually responsible for personnel assigned to the main temples of those deities, instead of the other way round. The temples “in the retinue of the House of Amun” included the Karnak temples of Amun, Mut and Khonsu, which are never said to be “in the House of Amun”. One may therefore ask if the phrase m pr ’Imn has any administrative relevance at all. Even the estate of an individual temple is explicitly referred to in Egyptian by a more precise term than pr “house”. This is “god’s offering” (ḥ tp-nṯr), an expression also used for the offerings presented to the divine statue in the temple during the daily cult. By extension, it stands for the resources and means that make up the temple estate, such as fields, gardens, cattle, personnel, granaries and workshops;29 these means ideally served to provide for the actual offerings. In view of all this, it should be doubted whether “House of Amun” (or pr “house” in general)30 really is an administrative notion, instead

29  See mainly D. Meeks, Le Grand Texte des Donations au Temple d’Edfou (1972), 55, note 15; M. Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft, 348–352. 30   The plural pr.w is particularly problematic. The high priest Hapuseneb (reign of Hatshepsut) called himself “superior in Karnak, in the houses of Amun, in any land of Amun (ḥ r.y m ’Ip.t-s.w.t m pr.w ’Imn m t¡ nb n ’Imn; Urk. IV, 472, 15–17). S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 10–12, translates pr.w ’Imn as “Domänen des Amun”, but Hapuseneb may as well refer here to individual temples of Amun in Egypt, and even abroad (m t¡ nb). On the other hand, cf. P. BM 10373 (late XXth Dynasty; J.J. Janssen, Late Ramesside Letters and Communications (1991), 43–47, pl. 27–30): “They are not new domains at all, the domains of the actual house of the Adoratress of Amun.” (bn pr[.w?] n m¡w.t ἰn n¡ pr.w pr mty ḏw¡(.t) n ’Imn). The way pr and its plural are used here is reminiscent of the word rmny.t “(agrarian) domain”, referring to a cluster of fields belonging to an institution in Ramesside administrative papyri (B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 344–345).



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of a reference to Karnak or any temple as a building, or even a religious metaphor, at least in monumental hieroglyphic texts. Historical Outline The Karnak temple of Amun, which would become the most important national shrine of Egypt in the New Kingdom and in later periods, is generally considered to have been a mere provincial temple during the Middle Kingdom, housing an equally provincial fertility god.31 Yet the temple was among the few that received donations of precious cult statues and equipment as recorded in the annals of Amenemhet II.32 In fact, there is every reason to expect that the temples of Thebes, home of the founders of the Middle Kingdom, were of central importance to the Middle Kingdom pharaohs. The Karnak temple also seems to have been powerful enough to supply offerings of loaves, beer and beef for the daily cult in the mortuary temple of king Mentuhotep Nebhepetre at Deir el-Bahri, as stipulated in a decree by Senusert III.33 Similar economic relations between Karnak and royal mortuary temples nearby are known from New Kingdom sources (see the discussion of sḏf¡ in the previous section). Sobekhotep IV decreed new yearly offerings to be presented to Amun. The modest amounts of grain, cattle and fowl for these offerings were to be supplied by government departments and the city district of Thebes, but the temple did have its own workshop with personnel, which was to be increased with five persons according to the same decree.34 New Kingdom building activity in Karnak and the donation of cult equipment are attested from Ahmose onwards. The so-called Tempest 31  E.g. G.E. Kadish in: The Oxford Encyclopaedia of Ancient Egypt II (2001), 224; S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 214. 32   Presumably from the temple of Ptah in Memphis: H. Altenmüller and A.M. Moussa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. Aus dem Ptah-Tempel von Memphis: ein Vorbericht”, SAK 18 (1991), 20–21, 31, 40. The annals also record tribute, booty and prisoners obtained from military campaigns abroad, but it is uncertain if any of these found their way directly to temples; the single destination of war prisoners specified in the surviving portion of the annals is the king’s pyramid town: ibid., 18 and 36. 33  E. Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir El-Bahari I (1907), pl. XXIV; B.J.J. Haring, “The Economic Aspects of Royal ‘Funerary’ Temples: a Preliminary Survey”, GM 132 (1993), 46. 34  W. Helck, “Eine Stele Sobekhoteps IV. aus Karnak”, MDAIK 24 (1969), 194–200. The word “increase” (literally “to double”, qb) is probably a reference to the restoration of temple property to its original extent (i.e. a compensation of loss), rather than an actual increase; see the discussion of the endowments by Ramesses III below.

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Stela of Ahmose records the restoration of the temple after disastrous flooding, as well as the establishing of offerings and the increase of income of temple personnel.35 The magnitude of these investments, however, is not specified. The next known reference to temple income is from the reign of Thutmose I. The mayor of Thebes and overseer of construction of the Amun temple Ineni notes that the king assigned to the temple products brought yearly from foreign countries, including cedar from Lebanon.36 These deliveries, if really made on a regular basis, may have been tribute demanded after Thutmose’s military campaigns, foreign gifts presented in the context of diplomatic relations, or objects of trade—the terminology of hieroglyphic inscriptions does not make a distinction between these alternative possibilities.37 Some time later, Queen Hatshepsut stated that she made the inhabitants of Punt pay a yearly tax to Karnak, in addition to the goods already brought in by her own expedition to that far-away country.38 The real economic impact of such allocations remains unclear, but they did make the House of Amun the centre of Egyptian imperialism, with the effect “daß der Amuntempel provinziellen Ausmaßes des Mittleren Reiches in einen großen ‘Staatstempel’ von überregionaler Bedeutung umgewandelt wurde (. . .)”.39 The most extensive presentation of the Karnak temple as receiver of income from military campaigns abroad is found in the annals of Thutmose III. The yearly reports themselves do not mention any tribute, booty or prisoners being destined for the temple of Amun or any other temple, but in a concluding text it is stated (1) that all prisoners made on the king’s first campaign (including over 1,500 “Syrians”, Ḫ r) were given to Amun, in order to serve him as temple weavers and cultivators; (2) that cows from Egyptian, Levantine and Nubian herds were donated to Amun for his milk offerings; (3) that three Canaanite towns were assigned to Amun, and were charged with a yearly tax

35   Lines 20–21: smn p¡.w.t=sn qb ʿq.w n ἰ¡w.t.y.w; Cl. Vandersleyen, “Une tempête sous le règne d’Amosis”, RdÉ 19 (1967), 145, pl. 10. 36   Urk. IV, 55; S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 213. 37  See for this characteristic of Egyptian monumental texts and depictions M. Liverani, Prestige and Interest. International Relations in the Near East ca. 1600–1100 B.C. (Padova, 1990), 240–266. 38   Urk. IV, 331. The text seems to refer to the Puntites as subjects (ḏ.t) of the queen, not to their chiefs who came to Egypt with the expedition, as suggested by S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 217. 39  Ibid., 214 (following D.B. Redford).



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that contributed to the divine offering. The gold, silver, copper, lead and semi-precious stones given to Amun in the same context probably included foreign booty or tribute as well.40 The donations appear as a natural consequence of the king’s victories, which are explicitly said to have been made possible by his father Amun.41 At the same time, the greater diversity of personal titles connected with the Amun temple suggests an increasing differentiation of administrative temple departments and hierarchy.42 At the top level, the different departments may have been supervised by an “overseer of all offices of the House of Amun” (ἰm.y-r ἰ¡w.t nb.t n pr ’Imn), a title held by the mayor Ineni and the high priest of Amun Hapuseneb. Under Hatshepsut, this title seems to have given way to that of “steward of (the House of ) Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr n (pr) ’Imn), first held by the queen’s favourite Senenmut. He and his successor Rau mention an even more exalted variant of the title: “high steward of Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr wr n ’Imn). Further stewards of Amun of the Eighteenth Dynasty included the mayor of Thebes Sennefer and the high priests of Amun Mery, Amenemhet and Ptahmose.43 The fact that the title of high steward is not attested after Rau until the very end of the Eighteenth Dynasty suggests that there was no fixed hierarchy of different temple stewards under a single high steward, and that the title of steward itself was the highest possible administrative position within the House of Amun. It is to be doubted, however, if that title always expressed supreme authority over the temple estate: Ramesside texts suggest that the high priest was the highest in charge (see p. 611). The same may have been the case with at least some of the high priests in the Eighteenth Dynasty, who were holders of the highest administrative titles with respect to the temple estate.44 Although Senenmut is the earliest attested steward of the Amun temple in the New Kingdom, there are earlier sources for officials responsible for the temple’s estate, including temple land: Ineni’s autobiography informs us that, under Thutmose I, the “fields of the 40   Urk. IV, 742–744. For the incredible amounts of gold Thutmose III claims to have given to Amun, and for comparable amounts presented by Amenhotep III to Montu, see J.J. Janssen, “Prolegomena to the Study of Egypt’s Economic History During the New Kingdom”, SAK 3 (1975), 154–155. 41   Urk. IV, 647, 5; 684, 9; 740, 11. 42  S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 217. 43  Ibid., 12 ff., 217. 44  Especially under Thutmose III and Amenhotep II: ibid., 221.

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divine offering” were under his authority.45 An “overseer of fields of Amun” (ἰm.y-r ¡ḥ .w.t n ’Imn) called Mery is dated to the same reign.46 To my knowledge, these are the earliest explicit references to fields belonging to the Karnak temple. Of course, this does not necessarily exclude that the temple had its own land already at an earlier date, but it may be significant that temple stewards attested for the Old and Middle Kingdoms were only connected with a few deities, not including Amun,47 and that the title “overseer of fields” never seems to have included the names of temples or deities in those periods. It is therefore theoretically possible that the inclusion of fields in the Karnak temple estate was a New Kingdom innovation, and that the temple had previously been supplied from external sources (i.e. government institutions) only. Even in the Eighteenth Dynasty external sources, including agrarian ones, were still important to the temple in addition to the produce of its own estate.48 It is even possible that, prior to the reign of Amenhotep II, the Karnak temple did not have its own temple treasury. The high priest of Amun Mery is the first person known to have held the title “overseer of the double treasury of Amun”,49 itself apparently a precursor of the title “overseer of the treasury of Amun”.50 According to Eichler, earlier references to a treasury at Karnak (including the incense weighing scene in the tomb of Puyemre; see pp. 615–616) are actually concerned

  Urk. IV, 55, 14; S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 57.  Ibid., 281, no. 271. 47  Stewards of Min and Sokar: D. Jones, An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom I (2000), 119, 124–125; “temple steward” (ἰm.y-r pr n ḥ w.t-nṯr), “steward of the divine offering” (ἰm.y-r pr n ḥ tp-nṯr), and stewards of Hathor, Horus and Osiris: W.A. Ward, Index of Egyptian Administrative and Religious Titles of the Middle Kingdom (1982), 23–26; “steward of the god” (ἰm.y-r pr nṯr): H.G. Fischer, Egyptian Titles of the Middle Kingdom. A Supplement to Wm. Ward’s Index, 2nd ed. (1997), 4. 48  Such as the “land of Pharaoh l.p.h.” (s¡ṯw n Pr-ʿ¡ ʿ.w.s; Urk. IV, 1265, 11, Thutmose III). The supposed reference to “cultivators’ domains [of the House of ] His Majesty” as a source of grain for the offerings of Amun in the Medinet Habu Calendar (Ramesses III; KRI V, 119, 11; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 63), is actually based on a wrong reconstruction of the text; see A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus II, 11, note 1; KRI VII, 450, 2–3. 49   ’Im.y-r pr.wy-ḥ ḏ n [’Imn] (Urk. IV, 1571, 13); var. “overseer of the double house of silver and the double house of gold of Amun” (ἰm.y-r pr.wy ḥ ḏ pr.wy nbw n ’Imn; Urk. IV, 1414, 15). S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 224: ἰm.y-r pr-ḥ ḏ n ’Imn (sic); 281, no. 268: ἰm.y-r pr.wy-ḥ ḏ nbw n ’Imn. 50   ’Im.y-r pr-ḥ ḏ n ’Imn: ibid., 290, no. 327 (Nebnefer, under Amenhotep III). 45 46



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with the so-called Treasury of Thutmose I in Karnak-North.51 This seems to have been a state treasury (called “Treasury of the Head of the South”), although it also housed a chapel that received the bark of Amun on one of his annual processions, and had its own bakeries providing offerings for that occasion.52 It is in the course of the Eighteenth Dynasty, and more particularly from the reign of Thutmose III onwards, that we find the extension of the temple estate by means of land donations recorded in temple inscriptions and on stelae: fields supplying grain, gardens and vineyards supplying vegetables, flowers and wine.53 In addition, the temple estate must have been enriched by private donations of land, although explicit references to this practice for the Karnak temple seem to be absent.54 The explosive enlargement of the estate,55 by Thutmose III, with offerings, land and personnel, may have been crucial for its later history: perhaps the basis of the vast estate as we know it from Ramesside documents was laid in this period. The history of the Amun temple personnel and their administration up to and including the reign of Amenhotep III has been thoroughly studied and described by Selke Eichler.56 The main trend reconstructed by the author is the development from a concentration of specialised temple workforce and administration under Thutmose III toward a

 Ibid., 115–121.  For which see H. Jacquet-Gordon, “The Festival on Which Amun Went out to the Treasury”, in: Causing His Name to Live. Studies in Egyptian Epigraphy and History in Memory of William J. Murnane, P.J. Brand and L. Cooper, eds. (2009), 121–123, with further references. 53   References in W. Helck, Materialen I, (27)–(28); III, (350), (353), (362). 54  See for the subject in general D. Meeks, “Les donations aux temples dans l’Égypte du Ier millénaire avant J.-C.”, in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Conference Organized by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven from the 10th to the 14th of April 1978, E. Lipiński, ed. (1979), vol. II, 605–687 (possible references to Karnak on pp. 662–663, nos. 18.3.0b and 19.1.1b); for additional references: idem, “Une stèle de donation de la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire”, ENIM 2 (2009), 129–154 (http://recherche.univ-montp3.fr/egyptologie/enim/ revue/2009/10/Meeks_ENIM-2_p129–154.pdf). 55   As suggested by S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 220, note 910, allowing for the possibility that it is merely the number of source documents from his reign that creates this impression. 56  Historical developments are conveniently summarised in chapters X and XI of the book (ibid., 193–234). It should be noted, however, that the “House of Amun” as investigated by the author is a hypothetical administrative structure including not only the Karnak temple but also other Theban temples of Amun, including the royal memorial temples; cf. p. 613 above. 51 52

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more decentralised situation under Amenhotep III. This decentralisation manifested itself in two ways. (1) The sudden enrichment of the temple estate under Thutmose III demanded a great number of new workers and administrators, for whom new offices were created. The personnel thus appointed made their career almost exclusively within the temple organisation. This organisation in its turn was more or less closed to functionaries from outside: holders of temple offices in the earlier Eighteenth Dynasty rarely had titles referring to responsibilities outside the temple administration, with exception of the highest administrative level: that of overseers, stewards and high priests.57 By the time of Amenhotep III, however, large numbers of workers and scribes who had their background in civil and military sectors of society continued their careers in the Amun temple administration. The military administration, in particular, may have found itself reduced in the less bellicose reigns of Thutmose IV and Amenhotep III, and its surplus staff found their way to the vast temple estates of Egypt, which continued to grow. (2) The accumulation of the highest administrative responsibilities reached a climax in the person of the high priest Mery, in the reign of Amenhotep II. Mery was also the temple steward, and overseer of the temple’s treasury, granary, fields and cattle. In the reigns that followed, however, this concentration of power was broken; the various titles now being borne by different individuals, many of whom combined them with titles not related to temple administration. Of the two high priests known from the reign of Amenhotep III, Ptahmose and Meryptah, the former still held the title of steward of Amun as his single administrative duty; the latter held no administrative titles at all.58 The resulting decentralisation, according to Eichler, left the Karnak temple estate powerless against Akhenaten’s religious and administrative reforms.59 It would certainly have taken some power to oppose these reforms, which affected Thebes more severely than any other Egyptian cult centre. Yet one can hardly imagine a total eclipse of the Amun temples, or other major religious institutions, which would

57   A special role was played by the family of the viziers Amtu, Useramun and Rekhmire, members of which were represented in high administrative functions in various temple departments: ibid., 222. 58  Ibid., 230. 59  Ibid., 231.



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have left an economic vacuum as well as a spiritual one for society at large.60 In the early years of his reign, when Akhenaten was still Amenhotep (IV), preparations were made to build new monuments in Karnak: at Gebel el-Silsile, sandstone was to be quarried for the benben of ReHorakhty in Ipet-sut,61 and the high priest of Amun May was at the head of an expedition sent to the Wadi Hammamat in order to extract greywacke for a royal statue.62 The new temples built by Amenhotep, however, were not dedicated to Amun but to the sun god, under the names of Re-Horakhty, Hor-Aten, or more briefly Aten. Among the blocks from these structures are some bearing fragmentary inscriptions that shed some light on what happened to the other temples of Egypt. One of these is a list of offerings established for the “altars of Re” in Lower Egypt; the portion of text preserved records the offerings for two cults in Memphis, including hundreds of loaves.63 Another fragmentary text appears to stipulate that temples throughout Egypt (including prominent temples of Hathor, Khnum, Min, Montu and Osiris), as well as towns and royal domains, were assessed with yearly taxes in gold, silver, bronze, incense, wine, oil, honey, geese and linen. The taxes were contributions to the Aten cult in Karnak, which served the upkeep of temple staff (smd.t) numbering at least 6,800 persons.64 Yet other fragments mention personnel, herds and other property of the House of Aten at Karnak.65 It seems possible that all these texts represent an intermediate stage in which the traditional temples were transformed into centres of solar worship, with Karnak taking the

60   As observed by L.D. Morenz, and L. Popko, “The Second Intermediate Period and the New Kingdom”, in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (2010), vol. I, 113. 61  W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period in Egypt (1995), 29–30. 62  D.B. Redford, “The Identity of the High-priest of Amun at the Beginning of Akhenaten’s Reign”, JAOS 83 (1963), 240–241. Redford argued that May was the same person as the high priest Ptahmose who is attested for the reign of Amenhotep III, but other authors date Ptahmose early in that reign, and have him succeded by Meryptah; see S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung des “Hauses des Amun”, 19, note 72; 230. 63   R. Saad and L. Manniche, “A Unique Offering List of Amenophis IV Recently Found in Karnak”, JEA 57 (1971), 70–72, pls. XXI–XXIA; W. Helck, “Zur Opferliste Amenophis’ IV. (JEA 57, 70 ff.)”, JEA 59 (1973), 95–99. Probably related fragments: Urk. IV, 1990–1992. 64   Cl. Traunecker, “Données nouvelles sur le début du règne d’Aménophis IV et son oeuvre à Karnak”, JSSEA 14 (1984), 62–69; Urk. IV, 1992–1994. 65  With the exception of the offering list (see note 63), editions of all these texts are still lacking; see W.J. Murnane, Texts from the Amarna Period, 30–31, 33–36.

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cultic and economic lead. Akhenaten’s move to el-Amarna probably changed this situation, and at some point the traditional temples may effectively have been abandoned, as the later restoration texts by Tutankhamen and Horemheb indicate: When My Majesty [i.e. Tutankhamen] had arisen as king, the temples of the gods and goddesses, from Elephantine to the Delta marshes [. . . . . . . . .] having become ruins; their chapels having fallen into decay; having become mounds, overgrown with safflower, their sanctuaries being like something that does not exist; their temples being a trodden road. (stela Cairo CG 34183, lines 5–7)66 He [i.e. Horemheb] searched for the gods’ premises, which had become mounds, in the entire land. He (re)founded them as they had been ever since the first primeval time. He established for them divine offerings, being the fixed portion of every day. (. . .) He assigned to them fields and herds, provided with all services (. . .). (statue group Turin Cat. 1379, lines 24–25)67

The restoration decree by Tutankhamen is known from two duplicate stelae from the Amun and Montu precincts at Karnak, both later usurped by Horemheb. Although it is concerned with all temples of Egypt, Amun is given particular prominence. Horemheb, having been proclaimed as king and crowned by Amun-Re himself, would have had even more reason to enrich the Theban temples in particular. We can be certain that the restoration of the temple cults by Tutankhamen and Horemheb included massive endowments of offerings, fields, personnel and cattle—indeed, their restoration texts tell us as much—but here as for earlier periods, more precise information is lacking. Also for the early Ramesside Period, precise information on the provision of the Karnak offering cults and the extension of the temple’s estate is missing, yet these operations must have been quite significant if they were to match the grandeur of the building activity by Seti I and Ramesses II. An endowment text inscribed on a stela that has only partially survived is concerned with a temple of Ramesses II: What was said in the Majesty of the Palace on this day: “The Temple of Usermaatre Setepenre given life shall be [. . . . . . . . .] from(?) the granary of

66   Urk. IV, 2027, 2–10. Duplicate stela: fragment Cairo CG 34184 + fragment Varille. See R. Hari, Horemheb et la reine Moutnedjemet ou la fin d’une dynastie (1965), 128–135, pls. XXIa–XXIIIh, figs. 43–45. 67   Urk. IV, 2120, 3–11; R. Hari, Horemheb, 208–214, pls. XXXVIIa–b and frontispiece.



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the divine offering of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods, whereas the property of his/its treasury [. . . . . . . . .] given to this house (in) the vicinity of He-of-the-Shining-Aten, on the fields [. . . . . . . . . ] (. . .).” (stela fragment MMA 54.185, lines 7–9)68

The beneficiary of the endowment (and hence, the object of the cult in this new temple) was Amun-Re himself. The daily offerings specified in the preceding lines included 1 ¾ khar (appr. 135 litres) of grain, and substantial amounts of other items, yet these are insignificant when compared to Ramesside offering lists for the main cult at Karnak and for the memorial temples on the Theban west bank (see below). They are quite comparable, however, to the amounts of additional offerings established by Ramesses III for a royal statue and a set of gold and silver jar stands at Karnak in his sixth and seventh regnal year (1 and ¼ khar respectively). It is therefore likely that the temple of Ramesses II was in fact a chapel or procession station within the Karnak precinct.69 This chapel was nonetheless assigned its own fields, the produce of which supposedly went to the Karnak temple granary, from which the required amounts for the newly established offerings were issued. The sentence “The Temple of Usermaatre Setepenre given life shall be [. . .]” is reminiscent of the Eighteenth Dynasty text of the high steward Amenhotep, in which it is stated that newly built royal temples were “on the provision” (ḥ r sḏf¡) of the main temples of Amun and Ptah (see pp. 608 and 613). It is possible that the same expression is to be reconstructed here. The reconstruction raises an important issue with respect to Ramesside temple building and religious endowment policy. This is the huge investments in new temple foundations located in Egypt’s old religious centres as well as in distant regions. Administratively and economically speaking, the most important examples of this phenomenon are the so-called mortuary or memorial temples, the “temples of millions of years” that were usually erected in or near prime religious centres like Thebes, Heliopolis, Memphis and Abydos, and which housed separate cults of Amun, Re, Ptah and Osiris, in a mystic union with the   KRI II, 710; W. Helck, Materialien III, (365)-(366); Haring, B.J.J., Divine Households, 148–149. 69  I am still reluctant to assume that the Ramesseum or a subsidiary cult in that temple is referred to here (in spite of the king’s prenomen being used: cf. KRI Notes and Comments II, 459), given the explicit reference here to Amun-Re, King of the Gods. See the names of subsidiary chapels in Karnak, some of which include the royal prenomen, in W. Helck, Materialien I, (53)–(58). 68

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king.70 Typically, the names of such temples would include those of their founders, supplemented by the phrase “in the House of Amun/ Re” etc. The example of the Ramesseum has already been given above (p. 614): “Temple of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Usermaatre Setpenre—life, prosperity, health—in the House of Amun”. The tradition of such temples and their names, which is best known from Thebes, reached back to the Middle Kingdom, and by the end of the Eighteenth Dynasty a chain of royal memorial temples had already been formed in the Theban necropolis, on the west bank of the Nile. The early New Kingdom foundations were usually of modest proportions, and were provided for economically through the Karnak temple and treasury (as becomes apparent from the inscriptions of Puyemre and Amenhotep discussed on pp. 615–616). Their architectural growth becomes especially clear from the reign of Amenhotep III onwards. The well-preserved storerooms and workshops of the Ramesseum testify to the economic power of the Ramesside temples of millions of years, which culminated in the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu. It is for this institution, and more generally for late New Kingdom Thebes, that we possess the richest textual evidence with respect to temple administration, including actual administrative documents on papyrus. The information about the offerings established for Medinet Habu as well as Karnak by Ramesses III is of particular importance to this chapter. The sources for this information are the hieroglyphic decrees and subsequent offering lists and calendars inscribed on the temple walls. Such inscriptions are likely to present a ceremonial, and therefore highly idealised view of the temples and their provisions. Moreover, the Medinet Habu Calendar of Feasts and Offerings is largely a duplicate of a similar calendar inscribed on the Ramesseum, approximately one hundred years earlier, without any attempt to update the prescriptions given in the text.71 The Ramesseum calendar gave exact prescriptions for the types and amounts of offerings to be presented to its own cult statue of Amun and associated local deities. More than fifty-nine separate lists described 70  See B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households; M. Ullmann, König für die Ewigkeit—Die Häuser der Millionen von Jahren. Eine Untersuchung zu Königskult und Tempeltypologie in Ägypten (2002). 71   KRI V, 115–184; for this and the following information, see B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 52–87, 399–409.



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the daily offerings (which required, among many other things, 30 ½ khar of barley and emmer wheat) and the supplements to these on festive occasions.72 On a yearly basis, the offerings required over 12,500 khar, or almost 100,000 litres of grain, all of it supplied by the Ramesseum granary. When copying this calendar on the south wall of his own memorial temple, Ramesses III had the names and dates changed where necessary, and added several lists of his own. Five new lists now preceded the original calendar, and three more (nos. 53–55) were carved over one of the original lists in a later stage. Lists 1 and 2 specify daily offerings newly established by Ramesses III, together requiring i.a. approximately 70 khar of grain on a daily basis. It has been assumed that these offerings represent the king’s extension (and in this sense, update) of the amounts prescribed by the Ramesseum calendar for the offerings in the memorial temple: an extension by more than 200%!73 As I hope to have demonstrated sufficiently elsewhere, this is extremely unlikely, and the new lists of Ramesses III probably all concern the offerings established by him for Amun-Re of Karnak, which were to be presented in that very temple with the exception of lists 3 and 4.74 Lists 1 (daily offerings), 5 and 53–55 (offerings for feasts of victory) mention the granary of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods (i.e. the Karnak temple granary) as the source of the grain.75 Lists 2–4, however, specify the source as the granary of the memorial temple itself. This is quite understandable for lists 3 and 4, which specify the offerings presented to Amun-Re on his annual visit to the memorial temple on the occasion of the Feast of the Valley. List 2 requires more explanation. It is concerned with daily offerings presented on a gold jar stand donated by Ramesses III and standing in the “forecourt” (wb¡) of the

72   The Ramesseum calendar is mainly known through its Medinet Habu copy, which left out an unknown (but probably small) number of lists at the end, due to a lack of space. 73  E.g. J.J. Janssen, “The Role of the Temple in the Egyptian Economy”, in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Conference Organized by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven from the 10th to the 14th of April 1978, E. Lipiński, ed. (1979), vol. II, 512. 74   B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 62–74. 75  My earlier assumption (ibid., 63 and 405) that the grain for list 1 came from royal domains was incorrect; see note 48. In the decree preceding lists 1–5, the indication of the source as initially planned was the memorial temple granary, but this was corrected in the process of carving (ibid., 63, note 3). As this entailed the modification of enormous hieroglyphic signs, the distinction must have been of some importance.

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Karnak temple. The loaves and beer for this specific offering ritual came from the Karnak temple workshops, but the grain required for their production (half a khar daily) was to be supplied by the granary of Medinet Habu. This explicit piece of information is even repeated in a decree and offering list of regnal year 6 of Ramesses III, carved on his bark sanctuary in the forecourt of the Karnak temple.76 According to the decree, the gold jar stand of Medinet Habu list 2 was now joined by a silver one, on which the same amount of offerings was to be presented as on the original gold stand. And again, the source of the grain required (now totaling one khar daily) was to be supplied by the granary of the king’s temple of millions of years. Following later decrees and lists of regnal years 7 and 16, Ramesses also donated a new offering table of silver to Amun-Re, as well as a statue of himself standing close to that offering table, and additional offerings were to be presented on both objects. Again, the grain (this time amounting to more than twenty khar daily!) was supplied by the Medinet Habu granary. In addition, the new daily offerings established by the king at Karnak required fowl, wine, fruit, incense, honey, fat, vegetables and flowers from the treasury and gardens of his memorial temple. The offerings established in year 16 possibly followed after an inspection of the Egyptian temples by the chief archivist of the royal treasury Penpato, which was carried out in regnal year 15. The inscriptions left by Penpato in some of the temples inspected (including Karnak) refer to a decree issued in year 5, which might be the background of the endowments of years 6 and 7. One of the aims of the inspection was to increase (lit. “to double”, qb) the offerings of the temples visited. Rather than an actual increase, however, the objective may have been a restoration of the offering cult and of the necessary temple resources after a period of neglect preceding the reign of Ramesses III.77 New festive offerings were later established at Karnak by Ramesses IV, as specified by his offering lists carved in the Cachette Court behind the Seventh Pylon. The offerings were produced in the Karnak temple workshop, but the grain required for them, 226 khar, was supplied by the king’s memorial temple (supposedly the huge unfinished temple at Assassif).78

  KRI V, 234–237; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 88–95.  In this sense P. Grandet, Papyrus Harris I 1, 95–98. 78   KRI VI, 3–9; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 95–101. 76 77



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This excursus into the material aspects of the offering cults at Karnak and Medinet Habu under Ramesses III and IV merely serves to indicate the growing economic power of the royal memorial temple on the west bank of the Nile with respect to the main temple of Amun in Thebes. This impression is confirmed by an administrative document from the reign of Ramesses V: the Wilbour Papyrus. This extensive agrarian register lists numerous fields in Middle Egypt bearing grain crops, and belonging to urban and provincial temples, as well as to royal institutions (the royal treasury, so-called harims, royal mooringplaces, and types of royal domains called khato and mint). The document has been discussed extensively ever since its publication by Alan Gardiner, and an outline of its content and structure will not be given here.79 The first important piece of information to be highlighted from it is the fact that the three greatest landholding institutions were the Theban memorial temples of Ramesses III and Ramesses V, and the temple Amun-Re at Karnak. The temple of Ramesses III, ten years after the death of its founder, still possessed 750 aroura of fields cultivated by its own workforce in the region covered by the Wilbour papyrus, from which it received 3,650 khar of grain at the time the register was made. It received an additional 182 khar from fields in which it had a shared interest, bringing the total of revenues to 3,832 khar. The temple of the reigning king, Ramesses V, possessed at least 324 aroura, from which it received 1,805 khar, while it got 333 khar from shared domains, making 2,138 khar in all. The Karnak temple was in third place, with at least 247 aroura producing 1,533 khar, plus 119 khar from shared domains, total 1,652 khar. It is far from certain that the register is representative for institutional agriculture in Egypt at the time that it was drawn up: it may just concern selected plots and/or institutions and, if so, we do not know the criteria by which the selection has been made.80 Yet it is remarkable that the temple of 79   A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus I–IV (1941–1952); B. Menu, Le régime juridique des terres et du personnel attaché à la terre dans le Papyrus Wilbour (1970); S. Katary, Land Tenure in the Ramesside Period (1989); B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 281–326, 414–417. 80   The purpose of the document and the authorities responsible for its production are unknown. Ch. Eyre, “On the Inefficiency of Bureaucracy”, in: Egyptian Archives. Proceedings of the First Session of the International Congress “Egyptian Archives/Egyptological Archives”, Milano, September 9–10, 2008, P. Piacentini and C. Orsenigo, eds. (2009), 26–28, suggests that it was an office document made in Karnak, where a “chief of assessment” (ʿ¡-n-št) was residing. This is possible, but far from certain: the scope of P. Wilbour is much wider than just Theban temples, and the provenance of this

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Medinet Habu should receive the largest income, whereas the Karnak temple did not even reach half the same amount. Another important piece of information is that the agrarian domains (rmn.y.t) worked by temple cultivators were “under the authority” (r-ḫt) of high officials, which not only included temple functionaries, such as stewards or high priests (sem) of the memorial temples, but also persons from government departments or the royal court; for instance scribes of the royal treasury and granary, and even a royal secretary. All these officials were represented at a lower level by deputies (ἰdn.w) and agents (rwḏ.w), whose responsibility is expressed by the preposition m-ḏr.t “in/by the hand of ”. As we find the same agents working for different officials, they were probably not personal assistants of the functionaries they represented. Instead, they may have been attached to the landholding institutions; this would have made the high-level supervision expressed by r-ḫt rather indirect, perhaps merely nominal. A final important observation to be made here concerns the royal domains called khato (ḫ¡-t¡). A separate text on the Wilbour Papyrus lists such domains in the region where also the temple domains discussed above were situated, and makes clear that many khato-domains were “on the fields” (ḥ r ¡ḥ .w.t) of temple estates. Although nominally having their own administration, in practice these khato plots were integrated into temple estates, which probably received only modest shares of the crops. Even so, Medinet Habu had at least 1,800 aroura of khato plots “on its fields”, from which it might have received another 675 khar of grain.81 Such were the intricate patterns in the daily reality of institutional administration and revenues in Ramesside Egypt, and these are only partly revealed to us by administrative papyri that happen to have survived. A papyrus document that would appear to have more direct relevance to the Karnak temple itself is P. Amiens + Baldwin, which is more or less contemporary with P. Wilbour.82 It records the collection and other agrarian records is highly uncertain; cf. Haring, B.J.J., “Institutional Agriculture and the Temples of Ramesside Egypt”, in: L’agriculture institutionnelle en Égypte ancienne: état de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires, J.C. Moreno García, ed. (2006), 125–127. 81   According to a speculative calculation in B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 325–326. 82   The text is to be dated to Ramesses V, VII or VIII; see J.J. Janssen, Grain Transport in the Ramesside Period, 4–5.



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and transport of grain by ship from a number of agrarian domains (rmn.y.t) in Middle Egypt. Among the owning institutions is the Karnak temple of Amun-Re (the “House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods”), as well as a number of Theban temples named after kings and queens,83 a temple of Khonsu, and the king. The papyrus thus seems to register grain transport undertaken by different Theban temples together, and is itself a product of this joint administration. The administrative role of the Karnak treasury with respect to other Theban temples is apparent in two other papyrus texts. One is P. Turin Cat. 1900 from the middle or late Twentieth Dynasty.84 It is concerned with the collection of myrrh and jasper from several temples in Thebes, including the memorial temples of Thutmose III and Amenhotep III. The jasper is brought in in the form of fragments of statues; it is thought, therefore, that this collection represents the ‘recycling’ of cult equipment of temples that were no longer active. The collecting institution was the “Northern Treasury of the House of Amun”, presumably a temple treasury at Karnak. The other document is a papyrus of the middle of the Twentieth Dynasty kept in the French Archaeological Institute in Cairo (IFAO).85 The text on it is about quantities of gold and galena mined in the Eastern Desert by personnel of the temple of Amun-Re and the memorial temple of Ramesses III, and collected by the “August Treasury of the House of Amun”. The receiving functionaries were a treasury scribe (most often), as well as the high priest of Amun himself, and the high priest (sem) of the memorial temple.86 As in P. Amiens + Baldwin, we seem to have here the output of joint 83  Not including memorial temples; the temple names are of the type pr (name of king/queen) m pr ’Imn. 84   KRI VI, 619–624; W. Helck, “Der Anfang des Papyrus Turin 1900 und ‘Recycling’ im Alten Ägypten’, CdÉ 59 (1984), 242–247; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 274–275. The blank spaces left on the papyrus by this text were later filled in with text concerning the royal necropolis administration; Kitchen’s transcription and Helck’s translation suggest that all lines were part of one and the same text. 85  Unnumbered; KRI VI, 397–403; KRI VII, 364–368; Y. Koenig, “Livraisons d’or et de galène au trésor du temple d’Amon sous la XXe dynastie”, in: Hommages à la mémoire de Serge Sauneron 1927–1976 I. Égypte pharaonique, J. Vercoutter, ed. (1979), 185–220, pls. XXX–XXXVIIIa; idem, “Livraisons d’or et de galène au trésor du temple d’Amon sous la XXe dynastie: document A, partie inférieure”, BIFAO 83 (1983), 249–255, pls. LII–LIVa. 86   The high priest of Amun and the sem-priest of Medinet Habu were Ramessesnakht and his son Amenhotep respectively. D. Polz, “The Ramessesnakht Dynasty and the Fall of the New Kingdom: A New Monument in Thebes”, SAK 25 (1998), 284, suggests that the marriage between Ramessesnakht’s son Merybast and a daughter of the high priest Setau at El-Kab eased the way to the resources of the Eastern Desert.

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expeditions by different Theban temples, and as in P. Turin 1900, the central place of collection was a Karnak temple treasury. The high priest of Amun appears yet again in connection with mining expeditions in the Eastern Desert, in a collection of letters on a papyrus in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.87 The high priest Ramessesnakht appears here as the addressee in a letter sent by Ramesses IX, in which he is urged to supply one hundred deben (appr. nine kg.) of galena of excellent quality to the king’s court (text B). The same Ramessesnakht wrote to Nubian soldiers protecting the gold miners of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods, who were working in the desert, and praised them for warding off a beduin attack (texts C and D). As in the IFAO papyrus, the high priest is shown to have been responsible for gold and galena mining expeditions. Apparently, he was also responsible for forwarding part of the expeditions’ produce to the royal residence. His son and successor Amenhotep is even shown on a temple wall at Karnak, as being rewarded by Ramesses IX for collecting the produce of the temple estate of Amun-Re, King of the Gods, and for paying dues (ἰn.w and tp-ḏr.t), presumably part of the aforementioned produce, to Pharaoh.88 The nature of these dues is not specified, but they are likely to have been precious materials, perhaps including the galena mentioned in the documents discussed previously. This brings us to the administrative role played by the high priest of Amun and his family in the late New Kingdom. In addition to the papyri discussed in the above paragraphs, there are several references to the high priest of Karnak having authority over personnel of the royal memorial temples on the west bank.89 From about the middle of the Twentieth Dynasty, his authority even stretched beyond temple matters: he appears in records of the royal necropolis, as a messenger on behalf of the king, as an investigator of serious local problems (like the shortage of grain rations, the resulting ‘strikes’ of the necropolis workmen, and tomb robberies), the distribution of food and tools, and 87   Again unnumbered: KRI VI, 517–522; W. Helck, “Eine Briefsammlung aus der Verwaltung des Amuntempels”, JARCE 6 (1967), 135–151. 88  W. Helck, “Die Inschrift über die Belohnung des Hohenpriesters ’Imn-ḥ tp”, MIO 4 (1956), 161–178; B.J.J. Haring, “Ramesside Temples and the Economic Interests of the State: Crossroads of the Sacred and the Profane”, in: Das Heilige und die Ware. Zum Spannungsfeld von Religion und Ökonomie, M. Fitzenreiter, ed. (2007), 165–166. 89   These references can be found in B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 215, note 7.



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even the preparations of the king’s burial. This development has been convincingly explained as a result of the diminishing involvement in necropolis administration by the vizier, the traditional head of that institution.90 More generally speaking, the second half of the Twentieth Dynasty appears to be a period in which royal power had diminished in southern Egypt, of which Thebes had always been the administrative centre. It was in this period that the high priests of Amun rose to prominence. The basis for this development was not only the power vacuum left by the last Ramesside kings and their viziers, or the fact that they were the heads of Egypt’s richest and most prestigious temple. A very important point to consider as well is the management of the greatest Theban temples (i.e., Karnak and Medinet Habu) as a family business. Ramessesnakht, who is first attested as a high priest in the reign of Ramesses VI, and who still held his office in the early years of Ramesses IX, was succeeded by his sons Nesamun and Amenhotep; the latter was active under Ramesses X. This means that the same family held the high priesthood at Karnak for at least fifty years.91 Ramessesnakht, moreover, had also been a high steward of the memorial temple of Ramesses III, a title held already by his father Merybast.92 His sons Nesamun and Amenhotep are probably identical with the sem-priests

90   Caused in its turn by a merging of the separate north and south vizirates into one for Egypt as a whole: S. Häggman, Directing Deir el-Medina, 183–192, 261–288. The first reference of the high priest’s involvement dates from year 26 of Ramesses III (O. DeM 148: ibid., 183). The person in question is Usermaatrenakht, a high priest otherwise unknown, though possibly related to his successor Ramessesnakht (as suggested by M.L. Bierbrier, in: LÄ II, 1244). For references to Ramessesnakht, see D. Polz, SAK 25 (1998), 276–279 (ibid., 278: “From the first to the last mention of Ramsesnakht, the High Priest of Amun appears in situations where one usually does not expect such a personality.”). 91  It is uncertain until what year exactly Amenhotep held the high priesthood; it must have ended in year 19 of Ramesses XI at the latest. See D. Polz, SAK 25 (1998), 276–288. 92  For references, see B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 453 and 457. Merybast’s title was “high steward in the king’s temple (ἰm.y-r pr wr m ḥ w.t-n.y-sw.t); it is very likely that he was attached to Medinet Habu. Ramessesnakht’s son Usermaatrenakht was a high steward, but his title is nowhere explicitly connected with the temple of Ramesses III (contra D. Polz, SAK 25 (1998), 281–282). P. Wilbour (one of Polz’s references) mentions an anonymous “steward of Amun” and a steward named Usermaatrenakht, who are not necessarily identical: B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 298–300. His stewardship of Medinet Habu remains a theoretical possibility: he may be identical with the Usermaatrenakht mentioned in TT 148, who was attached to Medinet Habu, but whose title is not fully preserved: KRI VI, 91, 16.

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of Medinet Habu with the same names,93 so that the stewardship or sem-priesthood on the west bank and the high priesthood in Karnak as subsequent career stages seem to have been a family tradition. Given the fact that the succession of a son to the office of his father was the rule, rather than the exception in Ancient Egypt, one may ask if Merybast and his descendants were the first to unite the highest Theban temple offices within their family. Indeed, at least one earlier priestly family seems to have had similar ambitions and success: that of the high priest Bakenkhons. Son of a second priest of Amun called Roma, Bakenkhons became high priest of Amun in or prior to regnal year 46 of Ramesses II. Three high priests from as many different families (Nebwenenef, Wennefer and Paser) had been appointed earlier in the reign. Bakenkhons, however, was succeeded by his brother Romaroy. Another brother of his, Ipuy, became sem-priest of the memorial temple of Merenptah. During the contendings of Seti II and Amenmesse, Bakenkhons’ descendants disappear from view, and Seti II eventually seems to have appointed a high priest from a different family.94 The Bakenkhons family thus ruled the world of the Theban temples for some thirty years, but political conditions were not as favourable to them as they would be for the Ramessesnakht dynasty much later. Besides, the royal memorial temples of the Nineteenth Dynasty may not have been as powerful institutions as Medinet Habu would be from the reign of Ramesses III onwards. Another, rather imperfect example would be the Eighteenth Dynasty family of the viziers Amtu, Useramun and Rekhmire, members of which held positions at Karnak as well as other Theban temples under Thutmose III and Amenhotep II.95 The world of the Theban temples, however, must have been a decidedly smaller one in that period than it was in the Twentieth Dynasty, and the primary power basis for Amtu and his descendants was certainly the vizirate. The eclipse of the Ramessesnakht dynasty followed in the reign of Ramesses XI, when the interventions by the viceroy Panehsy and the army general Paiankh paved the way for the theocratic state of the   B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households, 220, notes 2 and 3; 449 and 459.  M.L. Bierbrier, in: LÄ II, 1244. 95  See S.S. Eichler, Die Verwaltung, 222 (with note 921 for references). Merymaat was second priest at Karnak, and he and his son Aapehty were also priests at Hatshepsut’s memorial temple in Deir el-Bahri (ibid., 283, no. 282). Priestly offices at Deir el-Bahri were possibly also held by Neferhotep (ibid., 296, no. 370) and the steward of the Karnak temple Hori (ibid., 306, no. 435). 93 94



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high priests and ‘kings’ Herihor, Pinodjem and their successors. It is likely, however, that the power base of these priest-kings in the Theban temple clergy and administration had already been established to some extent through the joint management of the Theban temples by Ramessesnakht and his descendants.96 Conclusion: The House of Amun and the State in New Kingdom Egypt The pre-eminence of Amun in the New Kingdom made the Theban temples the single most important priority in the kings’ religious endowment policy. The greater temples of Thebes, Karnak in particular, were therefore destined to become the wealthiest in the country. The local priesthood must have played a powerful part, not only in the development and the acceptance of the ideological presentation of the king as “Son of Amun”, but also as the managers of the vast temple estates. The question has therefore been asked whether the priests of Amun at Thebes were a political threat to the king.97 On the basis of the discussion in the previous sections, it cannot be excluded that their economic and administrative power made the Theban temple estates potential rivals to government authority, at least in southern Egypt. However, a competitive or even subversive role does not seem to be inherent in the administrative structure and power of the Theban temples themselves, or in their relations with government institutions. Quite the contrary, one might say. The ‘House of Amun’, seen by many Egyptologists as one single organization incorporating different Theban temples, was not a monolithic entity.98 It was in fact a cluster of different institutions, although the degree of their autonomy is a matter of debate and nuance. A temple estate, the “divine offering”, typically included the same kinds of resources as the pharaonic government: treasuries, granaries, workshops, personnel, herds, fields, internal production and supplies from external sources. The estate of a major urban temple as that of Karnak might therefore easily be

 See D. Polz, SAK 25 (1998), 292.  So recently B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 258. 98  Nor was the Egyptian state, or whatever state in history; see M. Römer, Or 78 (2009), 1–43, esp. 9, 19, and 32 ff. 96 97

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envisaged as a state within the state,99 but in fact, it was subject to the king and his government; from these it received its endowments and donations, by these it was subjected to inspections, and to these it paid its dues. Moreover, its infrastructure clearly served royal interests, as becomes clear from the incorporation of khato fields in temple estates, and from mining expeditions by Theban temples providing for the king’s needs. The increasing wealth subsumed under the cult of Amun was kept divided by being the property of different temples, although it is unclear to what extent this was deliberate policy. From Ramesses II at the latest, the Karnak temple on the East bank and the royal temple of millions of years in the west must have been the principal local administrative and economic units.100 This is seen most clearly in the Twentieth Dynasty, under Ramesses III and his successors; it cannot even be excluded that at some point the economic power of Medinet Habu surpassed that of Karnak. It is the high priest of the latter temple who appears in late Ramesside administrative documents as the highest, though by no means as the single, local authority. A real difference was made by the control of the most important Theban temples by members of the same priestly family, especially the Ramessesnakht family in the middle of the Twentieth Dynasty. Their joint management of the Karnak and Medinet Habu temples, and Ramessesnakht’s own influence extending beyond temple matters, made an important prelude to the Theban autonomy of Herihor and his successors at the beginning of the Third Intermediate Period. Yet it has been justly argued that Ramessesnakht and his family cannot be shown to have acted intentionally against government interests.101 Nor, for that matter, can the viceroy Panehsy and the general Paiankh, as long as we do not know if their actions followed orders of the king or not. Strictly speaking, it was only the appropriation of royal decorum by the general and high priest Herihor that created a political opposition between (northern) king and Theban priesthood.102 The administrative and economic power of the Theban temples very  See the quote from Ch. J. Eyre, in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt I, 305, in note 21 above. 100  Not necessarily opposing power blocks; see D. Kessler, in: Altägyptische Weltsichten, 69, note 39. 101  D. Polz, SAK 25 (1998), 289–290, 293. 102   K. Jansen-Winkeln, Or. 70 (2001), 153–182 argues that the Theban theocratic state had its religious and economic roots in the Ramesside period (esp. ibid., 157–159), but   99



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probably played a key role in this development, but by their own nature, the wealth and organization of these temples were in fact fragmented. At their centre stood the Karnak temple of Amun-Re, but its degree of administrative control over other Theban temples seems to have been limited unless the most important of these temples were controlled by the same family. This was the case during several generations in the Twentieth Dynasty under a family of high priests and temple stewards. What the Egyptians meant by the “House of Amun” was the Karnak temple, with all institutions that administratively belonged to it; what Egyptologists like to think of as the “House of Amun” was actually the House of Ramessesnakht.

that its political independence was a consequence of developments in the north in the beginning of the Twenty-first Dynasty.

Coping with the army: the military and the state in the New Kingdom Andrea M. Gnirs Introduction In ancient Egypt, centralized power was always connected with a (sanctioned) use of violence and the control of armed forces. Historical evidence shows that at least from the Middle Kingdom, the mastery of specialized weapons, the organization of manpower, leadership and battle experience were basic features of any claim to the throne. An efficient bureaucracy and military organization guaranteed political stability and success in Egypt and abroad. Both sectors flourished particularly during the earlier New Kingdom until the beginning of the 19th Dynasty, when Egypt made her appearance on the political stage in Syria and the Levant and became one of the leading super-powers of the ancient Near East.1 One major achievement of the New Kingdom—with possible roots in the Late Middle Kingdom—was the change from a rather heterogeneous economic administration controlled by municipal or provincial governments towards a more tightened bureaucracy centralized in the Royal Residence. In the Middle Kingdom, the organization of the military and related branches depended on the same system of regional administrations. Implicitly corroborating the socio-economic importance of township, soldiers were called ʿnḫ .w n.w nw.t, literally “(armed) inhabitants of a town”, i.e., “soldiers of a town regiment”,2

1  A.M. Gnirs, “Ancient Egypt”, in: War and Society in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Asia, the Mediterranean, Europe, and Mesoamerica, K. Raaflaub and N. Rosenstein eds. (Cambridge, MA, and London, 1999), 83–89, and A.J. Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt. The New Kingdom (Malden, Oxford and Carlton, 2005), 1–208. For a thorough reading of my article and comments I am most grateful to Antonio Loprieno and Matthias Müller. 2   This designation was still in use during the Second Intermediate Period, see S.R. Snape, “Statues and soldiers at Abydos in the Second Intermediate Period”, in: The Unbroken Reed. Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honour of A.F. Shore, C. Eyre, A. Leahy and L. Montagno Leahy eds. (London: Egypt Exploration Society Occasional Publications 11, 1994), 312.

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later changed into ʿnḫ .w n.w mšʿ “soldiers of the army”.3 According to the so-called Semnah Despatches, they were sent out from their towns or nomes for state service to the Egyptian fortresses in Nubia, where they were under the control of city-administrators and šmsw.w, literally Retainers or Guardsmen. The Nubian forts were also occupied by combat soldiers named after their Egyptian hometown, ʿḥ ¡.wtj nj Nḫ n, “Warrior from Hierakonpolis”, etc.,4 some of whom were also distinguished as “Commander of the Crew of the Ruler”, ¡t ̱w nj ṯ.t ḥ ḳ¡, “Head Commander of the Town Regiment”, ¡ṯw ʿ¡ n nw.t, and/or “Retainer of the Ruler”, šmsw n ḥ ḳ¡.5 During the war-torn late 2nd Intermediate Period, Upper-Egyptian governors and town­commanders defended their territory by deploying local armed forces6. Then, during the 18th Dynasty, the military was expanded and put under the direct control of the central government. With the reunification of the kingdom, maintaining “private” troops and armories at provincial courts was no longer practised. Egypt’s territorial expansion and hegemonical policy brought about new bureaucratic, diplomatic, military and intelligence facilities, units and channels. A military class-consciousness articulated in biographical inscriptions and royal narratives emerged from the 2nd Intermediate Period on, changing social ideas and values.7 Centralization and development required an 3  See e.g. the Decree of king Horemheb, ll. 16, 27 and 33, J.-M. Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb. Traduction, commentaire épigraphique, philologique et institutionnel (Brussels: 1981), 28–31, 80–83, 90, 116–126. 4   pBM EA 10752+10771, P.C. Smither, “The Semnah Despatches”, JEA 31 (1945), 3–10, pls. I–VII. On the titles ʿnḫ /¡ṯw nj nw.t see O. Berlev, “Les prétendus ‘citadins’ au Moyen Empire”, RdÉ 23 (1971), 23–48. On šmsw and ʿḥ ¡.wtj see S. Quirke, “The Regular Titles of the Late Middle Kingdom”, RdE 37 (1986), 122f., D. Stefanović, The Holders of Regular Military Titles in the Period of the Middle Kingdom: Dossiers (London: GHP Egyptology 4, 2006), 95–170 (šmsw) and 178–181 (ʿḥ ¡.wtj), and P.-M. Chevereau, “Contribution à la prosopographie des cadres militaires du Moyen Empire”, RdÉ 42 (1991), 71 on šmsw with further bibliography. 5  See e.g. the titles born by Huysobek from the late 12th Dynasty, Stefanović, Hold­ ers, 180f. No. 974 1) with further bibliography. 6  See, for instance, the biographical inscription in the tomb of Sobeknakht at ElKab, W.V. Davies, “Kush in Egypt: A New Historical Inscription”, Sudan & Nubia 7 (2003), 52–54, and id., “Sobeknakht of Elkab and the Coming of Kush”, Egyptian Archaeology 23 (Autumn 2003), 3–6. Cf. also Snape, in: The Unbroken Reed, 1994, 311–313. 7  A.M. Gnirs and A. Loprieno, “Krieg und Literatur”, in: Militärgeschichte des phar­ aonischen Ägypten. Altägypten und seine Nachbarkulturen im Spiegel aktueller For­ schung, R. Gundlach and C. Vogel eds. (Paderborn, München, Wien, Zürich: Krieg in der Geschichte 34, 2009), 267–279.



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­ pdating of functions and hierarchies as well as of logistic and adminu istrative structures. Purely military careers became possible and were, in general, restricted to elite forces, bowmen troops and the chariotry.8 Although the deployment of mercenaries9 and former captives of war trained as soldiers was a common practice throughout Egyptian history, their numbers increased considerably, especially during the Ramesside Period,10 and foreign knowhow in combat techniques and technologies found its way into Egypt,11 having an impact on military ranking and nomenclature.12 At the same time, the social status of foreign specialists and warriors was enhanced, many of whom gave up their original identity and assumed an Egyptian name. The overall enlargement of the Egyptian army during the later New Kingdom, a consequence of the increase of economic resources and manpower on the one hand and of altered warfare practices on the other, necessitated a broader network of military facilities.13

 8   Cf. A.M. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft. Ein Beitrag zur Sozialgeschichte des Neuen Reiches (Heidelberg: SAGA 17, 1996), 17–39.  9  See, for instance, R. Friedman, “The Nubian Cemetery at Hierakonpolis, Egypt. Results of the 2007 Season. The C-Group Cemetery at Locality HK27C”, Sudan & Nubia 11 (2007), 57–62, and J. Bourriau, “Relations between Egypt and Kerma during the Middle and New Kingdoms”, in: Egypt and Africa. Nubia from Prehistory to Islam, W.V. Davies ed. (London: 1991), 130–132, on Nubian mercenaries during the early Middle Kingdom resp. the Second Intermediate Period, and more general Gnirs, in: War and Society in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds, 77–92, and id., “Military. An Overview”, in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, D.B. Redford ed., vol. 2 (Oxford, New York: 2001), 402–405. 10   B. Menu, “Captifs de guerre et dépendance rurale dans l’Égypte du Nouvel Empire”, in: La dépendance rurale en Égypte ancienne et dans l’Antiquité proche­orientale, B. Menu ed. (Cairo: BdE 140, 2004), 187–209. 11  I. Shaw, “Egyptians, Hyksos and Military Hardware: Causes, Effects or Catalysts?”, in: The Social Context of Technological Change. Egypt and the Near East, 1650–1550 BC. Proceedings of a Conference Held at St. Edmund Hall, Oxford 12–14 September 2000, A.J. Shortland ed. (Oxford: 2001), 59–71; P.R.S. Moorey, “The Mobility of Artisans and Opportunities for Technology Transfer between Western Asia and Egypt in the Late Bronze Age”, loc. cit., 1–14, and A. Herold, “Aspekte ägyptischer Waffentechnologie—von der Frühzeit bis zum Ende des Neuen Reiches”, in: Militärgeschichte des Pharaonischen Ägypten, 201–215. 12  T. Schneider, “Fremdwörter in der ägyptischen Militärsprache des Neuen Reiches und ein Bravourstück des Elitesoldaten (Papyrus Anastasi I 23, 2–7)”, JSSEA 35 (2008), 181–205. 13  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 57–66, 165–172.

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The military organization always maintained strong ties with the King’s House. According to official display, as Commander-in-Chief of the Army the king led the Egyptian forces to war, but de facto, he was often represented by his oldest son and designated crown prince. The topic of the king’s martial skills and war deeds is already fully developed during the later Middle Kingdom,14 as was the crown prince’s role as war hero in place of the elderly king (story of Sinuhe).15 During the New Kingdom, the belligerent nature of kingship was even more emphasized. At a time, when Egypt first ensured, then enhanced its territorial claims and strived for hegemonial control in the ancient Near East, the military qualifications of the ruler were pivotal and shaped the role of the heir apparent as chief executive in foreign policy and in the military organization. Early in the 18th Dynasty, these skills were not connected with a specific ranking title, but the claim to the throne was based on qualification rather than on inheritance. In this respect, a passage from the Tombos Inscription of Thutmose I may be elucidating:16 Second year of his initiation (bsw.t=f ), of his appearance as Chief of the Two Lands (ḥrj-tp t¡.wj), to dominate what Aten encircles, . . . . . ., who established himself on the throne of Geb (snḏm=f ) . . .

In this text, the future king is presented as a “civic” leader in waiting (ḥrj-tp t¡.wj) ready to be installed in office (bsj). Around the same time, Thutmose’s eldest son Amenmose held the rank of a Generalissimo, jmj-r¡ mšʿ wr, “of his father”.17 The title, which had already   For the motive of the victorious king in literature and historiography of the Middle Kingdom, see Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Militärgeschichte des pharaonischen Ägypten, 252–257. 15   The literary text is transmitted from the second half of the 12th Dynasty onwards, R.B. Parkinson, “The Missing Beginning of ‘The Dialogue of a Man and His Ba’: P. Amherst III and the History of the ‘Berlin Library’ ”, ZÄS 130 (2003), 124f. 16  Tombos Inscription of Thutmose I, ll. 1–2 (Urk. IV, 82:12–16), cf. A. Klug, Königliche Stelen in der Zeit von Ahmose bis Amenophis III (Brepols: MonAeg 8, 2002), 71–78, 504–506 (bibliography), and P. Beylage, Aufbau der königlichen Stelentexte von Beginn der 18. Dynastie bis zur Amarnazeit, Teil I: Transkription und Übersetzung der Texte (Wiesbaden: ÄAT 54.1, 2002), 209–219. On the possible circumstances of the king’s enthronement, see A. Dodson and D. Hilton, The Complete Royal Families of Ancient Egypt (London: 2004), 128, and F. Maruéjol, Thoutmosis III et la corégence avec Hatchepsout (Paris: 2007), 20f. 17   Fragment of a naos, now Louvre E 8074, Urk. IV, 91:12. 14



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been in use during the Middle Kingdom,18 was not common during the earlier 18th Dynasty, which corroborates the idea that during this period, it was exclusively linked to the supreme army command laid in the hands of the king’s eldest son and designated successor to the throne.19 Webensenu, probably a son of Amenhotep II,20 bore the title of a jmj-r¡-ssm.wt, Marshal, who controlled the military department of the chariotry. His inscriptions, however, do not mention the rank of the Eldest Son.21 Another princely Marshal from the reign of Amenhotep II left a stela in the Sphinx temple at Giza. Although the individual’s name and some of his titles are erased, the plaited side-lock of youth, the cartouche in front of his face, in which his name must have been written, as well as some specific epithets characterize him as royal ­offspring.22 His executive position within the chariotry is reflected by the  P.-M. Chevereau, RdE 42 (1991), 44–46, No. 1–13.  A. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 6. 20  As remains of his burial were found in KV 35, the tomb of Amenhotep II, Webensenu is usually taken as one of his sons, see Dodson and Hilton, Complete Royal Families, 134f., 141. 21   The title appears on a calcite canopic jar found in KV 35, Cairo CGC 5031, M.G. Daressy, Fouilles de la Vallée des Rois, CGC 24001–24990 (Kairo: 1902), 224; according to Daressy, the canopic lids in the shape of human heads, CGC 5032, belonged to the same canopic ensemble, ibid., 245; Webensenu’s shabtis, in contrast, only bear the title s¡-nsw, CGC 24269–24271, perhaps also CGC 24272–24273, which do not mention the Prince’s name, see Daressy, Fouilles, 103f., pl. 26; cf. P.-M. Chevereau, Prosopographie des cadres militaires Égyptiens du Nouvel Empire (Antony: 1994), 46 No. 7.07, and Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 22. Finally, a Prince Webensenu is also mentioned on a statue of the Royal Cupbearer, City Mayor, Director of the Priests of Month Lord of Thebes and Director of Works in the Temples of all Egypt Minmose, a former campaign companion of Thutmose III, Cairo CGC 638; it is a block statue with the heads of two princes to the right resp. the left of Minmose’s face, one of which is designated as “the King’s Son Web[en-senu]”, L. Borchardt, Statuen und Statuetten von Königen und Privatleuten im Museum von Kairo Nr. 1–1294, vol. 2. CGC 1–1294 (Kairo: 1925), 186f., pl. 117, and Urk. IV, 1447:20. C.H. Roehrig, The Eighteenth Dynasty Titles Royal Nurse (mnʿt nswt), Royal Tutor (mnʿt nswt), and Foster Brother/ Sister of the Lord of the Two Lands (sn/snt mnʿ n nb t¡wy) (Ann Arbor: UMI 1990), 285f., pls. 12–13, places Minmose, whose specific tutor’s functions in the King’s House are not mentioned on his monuments, in the reign of Thutmose III. H. de Meulenaere, “Le directeur des travaux Minmose”, MDAIK 37 (1981), 317f., suggests that he might have lived to the position of a Royal Tutor when his daughter Š¡-ry-tj became a Royal Nurse. There is no definite proof of Webensenu being Amenhotep II’s bodily son except for the fact that parts of his burial were found in the latter’s tomb, but his interment in the king’s tomb make it very likely, cf. remains of the original burial (canopic jars) of a son of Thutmose IV, Amenemhat, also known from other sources, in his father’s tomb (KV 43), N. Reeves and R.H. Wilkinson, The Complete Valley of the Kings. Tombs and Treasures of Egypt’s Greatest Pharaohs (London: 1996), 107. 22  Stela No. 37 or stela “B” according to S. Hassan, The Great Sphinx and its Secrets. Historical Studies in the Light of Recent Excavations (Cairo: Excavations at Giza 8, 18 19

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unconventional title of a Supreme Marshal, ḥrj-tp jmj(.w)-r¡.w ssm.wt, in combination with some ranking titles and epithets that usually distinguish the highest representatives of the administration, i.e., the Viziers.23 The statement that he “had access to his father without being announced”, and that he “body-guarded the King of Upper- and Lower Egypt”, identifies him as both a true Royal Son and as an elite soldier in the king’s entourage.24 Since the sequences of titles are partly erased, his exact princely status in the Royal House, however, cannot be deduced. In addition, the nameless Prince bears the ritual titles sm ḫ rp šnḏj.t nb, sm-Priest and Director of all Kilts, and related epithets such as Keeper of Secrets in the House of Ptah and sw-Priest in the House of Sokar. These statements led D.B. Redford to the assumption that the Prince must have been High-Priest of Ptah at Memphis, a position which is usually characterized by the titles wr ḫ rp(.w)-ḥmw.w sm nj Ptḥ, Director of Artisans and sm-Priest of Ptah. Consequently, Redford identifies the owner of the stela with the King’s Son and sm-Priest

1953), 85–87, fig. 68; S. Hassan, The Sphinx. Its History in the Light of Recent Excava­ tions (Cairo: 1949), 188–189, fig. 40; C.M. Zivie, Giza au deuxième millénaire (Cairo: BdE 70, 1976), 96–105, No. NE 9, and cf. Chevereau, Prosopographie, 55 No. 7.54; the present location of the stela broken in four parts is not known. A small standing figure of king Amenhotep II is shown between the paws of the sphinx; the group is followed by a figure of the falcon-headed god Re-Harachte. The Prince offers a flower bouquet and a great variety of provisions depicted in a subregister between the main scene and the lower part of the stela. The inscription is of particular interest, as it mentions function and ranking titles that usually characterize high officials, rather than Princes. For this reason, B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen zum Titel s¡-njswt “Königssohn” (Bonn: 1976), 300–304, argues against the identification of the stela’s owner with a Royal Son; on the one hand, she points out that the pair of ranking titles jrj-pʿ.t ḥ ¡.tj-ʿ would not appear in titularies of Princes of the 18th Dynasty, on the other, she remarks that later on, in the Ramesside Period, the combination is not uncommon in title sequences of Royal Sons, cf. also J.M. Fisher, The Sons of Ramesses II, vol. II. Catalogue (Wiesbaden: ÄAT 53/2, 2001), 70 No. 1.24 (Amunherkhepeshef), 73 No. 1.31 (Sethherkhepeshef), 155 No. 10.13 (Setepenre) or 205 No. 50.95 (unidentified Prince), for the reign of Ramesses II. Some of them also included epithets that characterized their personal position at court similar to those used by high palace-officials. This would be another parallelism to the titles reproduced on the Giza stela. The lack of evidence during the 18th Dynasty may be linked to the scarce textual material on Princes of the earlier New Kingdom. 23   s¡b t¡j.tj jrj-Nḫ n ḥ m-nṯr M¡ʿ.t r¡ shrr m t¡ r-ḏr=f, “Judge, One of the Curtain, Priest of Maat, Mouth that Satisfies in the Entire Country”, l. 4, and see below n. 26. 24  L. 2; Zivie, Giza, 98f. with note b) suggests a reading ʿq ḥ r ḥ m=f, “who has access to His Majesty”, but the writing of the j-sign of the word is clear on the photo published by Hassan, Great Sphinx, 85 fig. 68.



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in Memphis Amenhotep mentioned in pBM 10056.25 As the ritual titles sm-Priest and Director of all Kilts could be borne by other highstanding officials such as the Vizier26 and do not per se imply that the title holder was High-Priest of Ptah, the only clearly defined function of the Prince is that of the Supreme Marshal. Prince Amenhotep is, hitherto, not known to have headed the chariotry, Webensenu, in contrast, is. The stela from Giza might, thus, have been erected for Webensenu rather than for Amenhotep.27 Military leadership and competence as a key prerequisite of kingship became most explicit at the end of the 18th Dynasty, after the decline of the Thutmosid dynasty, when the political status of the designee to

25  On this administrative text see below pp. 650 n. 46 and 655 and D. Redford, “The Coregency of Tuthmosis III and Amenophis II”, JEA 51 (1965), 113–115, who takes this Amenhotep as a son of Amenhotep II, followed by Dodson and Hilton, Royal Families, 137f. (“Amenhotep C”). In contrast, Schmitz, Untersuchungen, 299–300, regards him rather as a brother or uncle of the king, although there is no evidence for a Prince Amenhotep from the time before the reign of Amenhotep II except the one who followed Thutmose III on the throne. 26   The ritual titles sm ḫ rp šnḏj.t nb and jtj-nṯr mrj-nṯr, sm-Priest, Director of all Kilts and Beloved God’s Father from 1.5 of the inscription can be part of the vizier’s titulary in the New Kingdom, cf. A. Weil, Die Veziere des Pharaonenreiches. Chro­ nologisch angeordnet (Leipzig: 1908), for instance, 76 a) (Rekhmire); 86 a) (Ramose); 95 c) (Neferrenpet, who, at the same time, was also High-Priest of Ptah at Memphis, wr ḫ rp(.w) ḥ mw.w sm nj Ptḥ , Chief Director of Artisans, sm-Priest of Ptah) or 104 b) (Panehsy). 27  According to Hassan, The Great Sphinx, 85f. and fig. 67, and id., The Sphinx, 188f., and fig. 39, it does not seem unlikely that stelae “A” and “B” were dedicated to the same individual. In KV 35, the tomb of Amenhotep II, which also contained some objects of Prince Webensenu’s burial (see above n. 20–21), the mummy of an approximately 11-year old boy wearing a plaided side-lock at his head was found (now Cairo Egyptian Museum CGC 61071). While Reeves, Complete Valley of the Kings, 199, does not exclude an identification of the mummy with Prince Webensenu, in his The Valley of the Kings. The Decline of a Royal Necropolis (London: 1990), 222–223, he argues against the boy’s body having been originally buried in KV 35. According to some archaeological evidence, the body could have been brought to KV 35 around the same time when royal and some other unidentified mummies were brought to Amenhotep’s tomb, which had been reused as a mummies’ cache from that time onwards. Princes might have been ennobled with high-ranking military titles at an early age, especially when they were designated heirs to the throne, cf. the Quban Stela of Ramesses II, on which the king’s early career as commander of the forces is unfolded: “The state of the two riversides was reported to you, when you were (still) a boy under the lock of youth. No monument was erected without being under your control. No commission came about without your knowing about it. You were the Supreme Mouth of the Army when you were a boy in his 10th year”, stela Grenoble Museum 1.33, ll. 16–17, KRI II, 356:3–6; KRITA II: Translations, 191; KRITA II: Notes and Comments, 214–216, cf. also Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 122f. The long sequences of titles and epithets on the Giza stela, however, rather suggest a mature age of its owner.

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the throne was bound both to the rank of a jrj-pʿ.t, Regent, and of a Generalissimo, which, from the time of Amenhotep III on, could also be held by non-royal high executives of the state. The revival of the old title jrj-pʿ.t and its reinterpretation as “co-regent” is connected with a sociopolitical process at the transition to the 19th Dynasty, when in the aftermath of the Amarna Period power was passed on to non-royal military aspirants for kingship (Ay, Haremhab, Paramessu and Sety).28 One of these army-based state leaders, Paramessu/Ramesses I, became the founder of the 19th Dynasty. The “civic” origin of the new royal lineage was still emphasized by the third king in line, Ramesses II, who stressed his father’s earlier position as a God’s Father Beloved of God, jtj-nṯr mrj nṯr (Inscription dédicatoire), and his leading role as the “son of the Regent”, ẖrd jrj-pʿ.t (Quban Stela), referring to the time when his father Sety was still the designated successor to the throne.29 While Haremhab and then Ramesside crown princes held the supreme military command, Haremhab’s predecessor Ay as well as Paramessu and Sety headed the specialized forces of the army, bowmen troops and chariotry, as Troop-Commanders (ḥ rj-pḏ.t), and Marshals (jmj-r¡ ssm.wt).30 Although Ay maintained close ties to the royal family at Amarna, his military origin might have been a crucial factor in his attaining kingship. Beside their military background, the later founders of the 19th Dynasty were deeply involved in state policy and/ or administration, as shown by their non-royal titulatures. Haremhab was Superintendant of the King’s Property, jmj-r¡ pr wr nj nsw, and acted as proxy of the king for all intents and purposes, expressed in the title jdnw nj ḥ m=f/nj nsw, whereas Paramessu, Sety and probably also Ay held the rank of a Vizier, thus occupying the highest administrative position.

28  W. Helck, Der Einfluß der Militärführer in der 18. ägyptischen Dynastie (Hildesheim: UGAÄ 14, 19642), 80–82, and Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 100–134. 29   Inscription dédicatoire in the temple of Sety I at Abydos, ll. 62–63, KRI II, 329:10–11, KRITA II: Translations, 169, KRITA II: Notes and Comments, 191–197, and again the Quban Stela, l. 16, KRI II, 356:1–4, cf. also the so-called Stela-of-400Years, Cairo Museum JdE 60539, ll. 8–10, KRI II, 288:7–9, KRITA II: Translations, 117, KRITA II: Notes and Comments, 168f., where Ramesses II reproduced the civic status and filiation of his father Sety. See also D. O’Connor, “New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period, 1552–664 BC”, in: B.G. Trigger, B.J. Kemp, D. O’Connor and A.B: Lloyd, Ancient Egypt. A Social History (Cambridge, London, New York: 1983), 207, and Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 117–123. 30  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 67–71, 91–120.



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The uncommon fusion of military and administrative leadership exercised by a very few non-royal title holders who gained access to kingship at the end of the 18th Dynasty can be observed one more time, at the end of the Ramesside Period, when a military elite of mostly foreign descent (Panehsy, Pianch, and Herihor) took over political power in the Theban district, claiming control of the Nubian province, the granaries, the royal administration, and of the main cult at Thebes; their exceptional role in the army was characterized by a new fixed military title, ḥ ¡w.tj, Commander (“of Pharaoh’s Troops”), sometimes expanded by the relative clause “who is at the head of the armies of all of Egypt”.31 Although Ramesses XI was then still on the throne, their concentration of power made these commanders the true rulers of the south.32 In spite of a distinctly different historical background, both the late 18th and the end of the 20th Dynasty were characterized by social, bureaucratic and political changes that necessitated an increase of armed control in Egypt or in parts of the country and finally led to a military putsch. At the end of the 18th Dynasty, the army was omnipresent. Abroad, military strategists opposing the diplomatic efforts undertaken by the Amarna court had to cope with a Hittite empire expanding south and threatening city-states allied with Egypt, bringing about a shift of hegemonial power in the ancient Near East. At the end of the 20th Dynasty, Thebes, which first continued to maintain loose contacts with the royal court in the Delta, became the stage for local conflicts between different military parties struggling for political leadership and infiltrating all social and bureaucratic strata. This phase of upheaval fostered the rise of a new political class that originated from foreign mercenaries and elite troops.   Cf. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 57–66.  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 62–65, 193–211. For the chronological order of the military commanders resp. the High-Priests of Amun at the end of the 20th and beginning of the 21st Dynasties see K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Das Ende des Neuen Reiches”, ZÄS 119 (1992), 22–37; id.,“Die thebanischen Gründer der 21. Dynastie”, GM 157 (1997), 49–74, and J.H. Taylor, “Nodjmet, Payankh and Herihor: The End of the New Kingdom Reconsidered”, in: Proceedings of the Seventh International Con­ gress of Egyptologists. Cambridge, 3–9 September 1995, C.J. Eyre, ed. (Leuven: OLA 82, 1998), 1143–1155. Cf. also A. Niwinski, “Bürgerkrieg, militärischer Staatsstreich und Ausnahmezustand in Ägypten unter Ramses XI.: Ein Versuch neuer Interpretation der alten Quellen”, in: Gegengabe. Festschrift für Emma Brunner-Traut, I. GamerWallert and W. Helck, eds. (Tübingen: 1992), 235–262; id., “Le passage de la XXe à la XXIIe dynastie: chronologie et histoire politique”, BIFAO 95 (1995), 329–360, and A. Thijs, “The Troubled Careers of Amenhotep and Panehsy: The High Priest of Amun and the Viceroy of Kush under the Last Ramessides”, SAK 31 (2003), 289–306. 31 32

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Warfare by ship always played an important role in Egypt, in particular during periods of civil strife or war with Nubia. Campaigning in Western Asia sometimes prompted the transportation of troops by ship sent up north along the Levantine coast from the naval base at Perunefer during the 18th Dynasty, later on from the harbour of Piramesse.33 When the troops of Thutmose III reached the Euphrates in Syria, they had to build boats in order to be able to cross the river.34 In Egypt and Nubia, except for the cataract regions, it was the Nile, the natural link of communication, which permitted a fast mobility of troops. Beside the term for navigating ship crews, who served on trade or transport vessels often on account of a temple domain, as well as on war ships,35 there is only one rank exclusively held by naval officers: ḥ rj-ẖny.t, Commander of a Naval Contingent (lit. “rowers”).36 When applied to a war ship, the element ẖny.t could be substituted by the name of the military unit or ship,37 while the title itself was interchangeable with that of a Standard-Bearer, ṯ¡y-sry.t, who was carrying the military

33  T. Säve-Söderbergh, The Navy of the Eighteenth Egyptian Dynasty (Uppsala and Leipzig: Uppsala Universitets Årsskrift 6), 37–39. Piramesse is praised as a port city in one of the Ramesside city eulogies, pAnastasi III 7,6, A.H. Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies (Brussels: BAe 7, 1937), 28, (hereinafter quoted as Gardiner, LEM), see also C. Ragazzoli, Éloges de la ville en Égypte ancienne. Histoire et littérature (Paris: 2008), 82–84. For movements of troops by sea see Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 39–70, and cf. D.B. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III (Leiden etc., Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 16, 2003), 204f., who takes Memphis as the point of departure for the fleet. For Perunefer, see below pp. 654–655. 34  So-called Gebel Barkal Stela of Thutmose III, now Boston MFA 23.733, ll. 11–12, Urk. IV, 1232:1–6; cf. Klug, Königliche Stelen, 193–208 and 515f. (bibliography). 35  Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 85–89. See also S. Bickel, “Commerçants et bateliers au Nouvel Empire. Mode de vie et statut d’un groupe social”, in: Le commerce en Égypte ancienne, N. Grimal and B. Menu eds. (Le Caire: BdE 121, 1998), 78f., 157–172, focussing on the crews of cargo ships of public institutions. See also D. Jones, A Glossary of Ancient Eyptian Nautical Titles and Terms (London, New York: Studies in Egyptology, 1988), 91–92 Nos. 181–184. In earlier New Kingdom, war ships were technically not distinguished from cargo vessels, see also Redford, The Wars in Syria, 204. 36  A.R. Schulman, Military Rank, Title, and Organization in the Egyptian New King­ dom (Berlin: MÄS 6, 1964), 56f. §§ 136–137. 37   Cf. the naval titles born by an officer of the earlier 18th Dynasty, Maienheqau, a battle companion of Thutmose III, P.-M. Chevereau, “Le porte-étendard Maienheqaou”, RdÉ 47 (1996), 9–28.



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standard that distinguished an army regiment.38 This lower military rank was introduced in the early 18th Dynasty and designated a fieldcommander of a regiment (s¡) of foot soldiers, who himself could lead a naval contingent.39 Thus, it seems plausible that army units sent out on ships were organized according to the ranks and functions of landtroops and had the same equipment. That a recruit of a ship is called a “soldier”, wʿw, like the conscripts of land-troops corroborates this idea.40 In a Ramesside version of the so-called Satire of Trades, a wʿw is clearly identified with a member of a naval contingent, obliged to row when he was not fighting.41 To move up the career ladder as an ordinary soldier to the rank of a Standard-Bearer and to even higher military positions (Troop-Commander, ḥ rj-pḏ.t, or Stable-Master, ḥ rj-jḥ w) was not uncommon, as biographies and titulatures from the 18th Dynasty show.42 In the Ramesside Period, Troop-Commanders serving on cargo (mnšw) ships, for instance, were responsible for the transfer of foreign taxes and tribute to the Residence (see also below the section “Foreign administration and the military in Asia”).43 38   The emblem itself referred to military or martial topics by motives or names. See, for instance, the Standard-Bearer of a Royal Ship Nebamun, holding the standard of his ship’s contingent, in a scene of his tomb (TT 90), while presenting foreign tribute or taxes to Thutmose IV, No. de Garis Davies and Ni. De Garis Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials of Tuthmosis the Fourth (Nos. 75 and 90) (London: TTS 3, 1923), pl. 28. 39  Helck, Militärführer, 37; R.O. Faulkner, “Egyptian Military Standards”, JEA 27 (1941), 13, 17–18; again Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 79f. and 83, and Schulman, Military Rank, 69–71 §§ 174–180. For Standard-Bearers in the navy see Jones, Nautical Titles, 107–109 Nos. 250–253. 40  See, for instance, the biography of Ahmose Sa Ibana, Commander of a naval contingent, who started his military career as a w ʿw on a royal ship, biographical inscription in his tomb at El-Kab, l. 5, Urk. IV, 2:12–13, and C. Barbotin, Âhmosis et le début de la XVIIIe dynastie (Paris: Les Grands Pharaons, 2008), 197–202; cf. SäveSöderbergh, Navy, 71–75, 78. For this specification referring to ship-crews, -types, and -names, see Jones, Nautical Titles, 72–75 Nos. 94–107 (for Ahmose’s title see No. 99). 41   pBM 10685 rto. 6,5 on the fortunate position of the scribe in comparison to other professions: “For the marine (w ʿw) is worn out, the oar in his hand, the leather (lash) upon his back, and his belly empty of food”, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum. Third Series. Chester Beratty Gift, A.H. Gardiner ed. (London: 1935), vol. I, Text, 47, vol. II. Plates, pl. 25–25A; cf. Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 73. 42   For examples, see Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 78–84. 43  A Troop-Commander of mnšw-ships mentioned in pTurin B vso. 1,7–2,3, a Ramesside model letter, was in charge of a cargo of ointment, diverse army equipment, and wood to be brought to the Residence, probably from a foreign place, Gardiner, LEM, 125:16–126:6, and R.A. Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies (London: Brown Egyptological Studies 1, 1954), 467–469 (hereinafter qoted as Caminos, LEM). “Troops of cargo ships transfering tribute” for the king to the Residence are listed in a praise of the northern capital on pAnastasi III 7,6, Gardiner, LEM, 28:14–15, Caminos,

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According to historical records, war ships were used for transportation and as mobile bases for operations on the Nile.44 War reliefs from the early 20th Dynasty depict the Egyptian navy involved in sea combats, fighting the so-called Sea Peoples.45 It was a common practice in Ancient Egypt to incorporate captured warriors or soldiers into the Egyptian forces. The immigrants, pressed into military service or hired as mercenaries, brought along their own specific armament, techniques in shipbuilding and in boarding manoeuvres.46 Large-scale integration of captives of war, however, is not documented before the later New Kingdom, when Egypt was threatened by invasions of

LEM, 101, and also Ragazzoli, Éloges de la ville, 82–84. Further references are given by Jones, Nautical Titles, 87f., No. 166, and cf. Schulman, Military Rank, 55 § 133. 44  See, for instance, Kamose’s report on his campaign against the Hyksos and their allies, W. Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 19832), 82–97 No. 119, and Barbotin, Âhmosis, 169–180, or the biography of Ahmose Sa Ibana, Urk. IV, 1–11 (see also above n. 40), and the commentary on these texts by Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 1–2. 45  S.C. Heinz, Die Feldzugsdarstellungen des Neuen Reiches. Eine Bildanalyse (Wien: Untersuchungen der Zweigstelle Kairo des Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes 17, 2001), 305–309 with further bibliography; R. Drews, “Medinet Habu: Oxcarts, Ships and Migration Theories”, JNES 59 (2000), 174–184; P. Grandet, Ramsès III. Histoire d’un Règne (Paris: 1993), 191–201, and B. Cifola, “The Terminology of Ramesses III’s Historical Records, with a Formal Analysis of the War Scenes”, Or. 60 (1991), 9–57. 46  Accounts of the early 18th Dynasty mention foreign types of ships built at the royal dockyard, see pBM 10056 rto. col. 14 l. 5: sktj-boat, pBM 10056 rto. col. 18 l. 4 and pBM 10056 vs. col. 11 l. 2: kftj-ship, S.R.K. Glanville, “Records of a Royal Dockyard of the Time of Tuthmosis III: Papyrus British Museum 10056. Part I”, ZÄS 66 (1931), 115f., 121 and pp. 5*, 8*; id., “Records of a Royal Dockyard of the Time of Tuthmosis III: Papyrus British Museum 10056. Part II”, ZÄS 68 (1932), 14 note 24, and Jones, Nautical Titles, 68f. No. 68, 148 No. 79 and 149 No. 80. Foreign craftsmen appear, for instance, in pBM10056 vs. col. 8 l. 11: ḥ mww wr J-r¡-ṯw, “the Chief Craftsman Iratju”, Glanville, ZÄS 66 (1931), 120 and p. 7*, and id., ZÄS 68 (1932), 27 note 83. For an ancient depiction of a Syrian ship dating to the 18th Dynasty, see N. de Garis Davies, R.O. Faulkner, “A Syrian Trading Venture to Egypt”, JEA 33 (1947), 40–46, pl. VIII. On Egypt’s “arms trade” during the Late Bronze Age see R.G. Morkot, “War and the Economy: the International ‘Arms Trade’ in the Late Bronze Age and After”, in: Egyptian Stories. A British Egyptological Tribute to Alan B. Lloyd on the Occasion of His Retirement, T. Schneider and K. Szpakowska eds. (Münster: AOAT 347, 2007), 169–195, also Moorey, in: The Social Context, 3f., 6–9, 10–12, esp. 9.



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foreign ­migrating peoples.47 They were settled in specific strongholds under the control of fortress-commanders and military tribe leaders:48 I (i.e., Ramesses III) brought those my sword has spared along as numer­ ous captives bound like birds in front of my horse-team, . . . . . . . . . I settled their leaders (ḥ¡.wtj.w) in fortresses bearing my name and gave them Troop-Commanders (ḥrj.w-pḏ.t) and Tribe Leaders (ʿ¡.w n(.w) mhw.t). . . .

In this inscription, Ramesses III refers to a practice that was already common in the 19th Dynasty. Individuals bearing the title of a ʿ¡ nj thr.w, Leader of Mercenaries, and serving the Egyptian army are known from the late 19th Dynasty onwards. In the 20th Dynasty, this military rank could be specified by the name of a fortress, confirming the king’s report on the foundation of fortified military settlements. Later on, when these forts became politically and economically more important, their commanders were distinguished as Army-Commanders (jmj-r¡ mšʿ) and Commanders (ḥ¡.wtj) “at the head of (a chain of) Sherdenresp. Ma-Fortresses”,49 and sometimes bore even the title of a Director of the Granaries, jmj-r¡ šn.wtj, which indicates that at this time military control was closely linked to the control of grain resources. At the end of the New Kingdom, mercenaries’ settlements were the breeding ground for new political elites, the founders of the so-called God’s State of Amun in the south and of the Libyan dynasties in the north.50

47  D. O’Connor, “The Nature of Tjemhu (Libyan) Society in the Later New Kingdom”, in: Libya and Egypt c1300–750 BC, A. Leahy ed. (London: 1990), 81–89; Menu, in: La dépendance rurale, 187–209; Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, 235–263, and J. Degas, “Les pharaons et la mer”, Égypte, Afrique & Orient 1 (1996), 21–22. Cf. also R. Drews, The End of the Bronze Age. Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe ca. 1200 B.C. (Prince­ton: 1993), 48–76 and 97ff. 48  So-called Historical Section of the Great pHarris I 77,4–5, P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I (BM 9999) (Cairo: BdE 109), vol. 1, 337, 7, and cf. also lines 6,6–9, op. cit., vol. 1, 336f. 49   These fortified military settlements hosted Libyans (M) or seafaring tribes (Šrdn). The variant ḥ ¡w.tj nj n¡ pḏ.wt Pr-ʿ¡, which is documented for the end of the 20th/ beginning of the 21th Dynasty, could be expanded by a relative clause “who was at the head of all the forces of Egypt”. The addition suggests that some Commanders of Foreign Troops took control of all Egyptian forces (Panehsy, Pianch, and Herihor), in addition, Pianch and Herihor were also distinguished by the title of a Commander-inChief of the Army, jmj-r¡ mšʿ wr, while their predecessors only bore the ordinary title of an Army-Leader, jmj-r¡ mšʿ, Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 62–65. 50  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 57–64.

652

andrea m. gnirs Naval Administration

How the administration of the navy worked and in which way it interacted with the state’s bureaucracy might be deduced from executive titles as well as from administrative documents, so-called ships’ logs written on papyrus. There is only slight evidence for the naval rank of an Admiral of the Royal Fleet, jmj-r¡ ʿḥ ʿ.w (nb.w) nsw.51 Acting as a state chief executive rather than a high-ranking officer, an Admiral was in charge of the coordination and control not only of war ships, but also of royal transportation and cargo vessels. His scope of responsibilities correlated well with the operating range of a ḥ rj-ẖny.t discussed above, who, on a lower level, commanded war as well as trade or cargo ships. Admirals were in close contact with the royal court and sometimes occupied high positions in the royal administration, as some careers show: Nebamun, Admiral of the Royal Fleet under Thutmose III, bore the title of a Royal Butler, wdpw-nsw, and held the offices of a Director of the King’s Bureau, jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡ nj nsw, and of an Intendant of the Queen’s Estate, jmj-r¡ pr nj ḥ m.t-nsw.52 According to “The Duties of the Vizier”, the highest official of the state was also in control of the entire fleet:53 It is he who assigns ships to everyone to whom a ship needs to be assigned. It is he who dispatches every messenger of the King’s House to [. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] when the Lord is on campaign (mšʿ) . . . . . . . . .There has to be reported to him by any council of the vanguard and of the rearguard (= from bow to stern) of the fleet.54 It is he who seals every order of [. . . . . . . . . . . .] . . .

51  Officials bearing this title are subsumed by Jones, Nautical Titles, 54 Nos. 20–22. The term jmj-r¡ can be substituted by ḥ rj, see again Jones, Nautical Titles, 85 Nos. 154– 155. 52  Stela with biographical inscription in the tomb of Nebamun, TT 24, l. 19, Urk. IV, 151:1. 53  G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier. Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom (London, New York: Studies in Egyptology, 1988), ll. 34–35 according to N. de Garis Davies’ publication of the inscription in the tomb of Rekhmire, TT 100, The Tomb of Rekh-mi-Reʾ at Thebes (New York, 1973), pl. XXVI–XXVIII; Urk. IV, 1116:7–12, cf. also Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 90f. 54  Related phrases are given in pAnastasi IV 3,6 and 8,7, Gardiner, LEM, 37:15 and 43:7, Caminos, LEM, 138 and 160, although they do not include the term ʿḥ ʿw(.t), “fleet”, cf. the comments by Glanville, ZÄS 68 (1932), 18f., and van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier, 289 n. 1.



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These remarks imply that the admiralty was a most powerful state function. The man in charge controlled all the royal ships heading to or leaving the Residence or Egypt, decided which vessel was to be entrusted to which state representative or institution and was kept informed about all the activities of the navy. Constant circulation of information between the admiralty, a branch of the royal administration, and the King’s House was guaranteed, providing detailed records on the mobilisation of ships, their assignment, destination, manpower, cargo, and on the outcome of their mission. Since the assignment of ships mostly satisfied economic (deliveries of domestic and foreign taxes, exchange of trade goods abroad) and military (transport of troops and armament) interests, besides serving the king and other high state representatives as a fast means of transportation, it seems quite comprehensible that it was usually the Vizier as the highest official who filled this important function.55 This practice may also suggest that the deployment of ships for military operations was rather limited in comparison to their use for cargo and transportation. In fact, relations between the military organization and the royal fleet were, at times, tense. Royal decrees from the end of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th Dynasty inform about frequent abuse of power by army officers of different ranks. It seems that it was a common practice among those sent out on royal missions to claim private and public property—including ships and their personnel—for their own purposes, insisting on their special rights as royal agents (see below the section “Abuse of military authority”). In the so-called Nauri-Decree, Sety I states:56 His Majesty has decreed that regulation be made for the Temple of Mil­ lions of Years (of) the King of Upper- and Lower-Egypt, Menmare, Happy in Abydos, on water and on land, throughout the provinces of the south and north: To prevent interference with anyone belonging to the Memorial Tem­ ple of Menmare Happy in Abydos, who is (anywhere) in the whole land, whether man or woman;

  Cf. also A. Graham, “Some Thoughts on the Social Organisation of Dockyards During the New Kingdom”, in: Current Research in Egyptology III. December 2001, R. Ives et al. eds. (Oxford: BAR International Series 1192, 2003), 29f., who points out that similar functions were also carried out by the Vizier during the 12th Dynasty. 56  Ll. 29–33, KRI I, 50:12–51:8; KRITA Translations I, 44, and KRITA Notes and Comments I, 48–55. Cf. §§ 1–2 of the Haremhab-Decree, Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 28–56. Cf. Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 91–93, and below. 55

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andrea m. gnirs To prevent interference with any property belonging to this House, which is (anywhere) in the whole land; To pre[vent any per]son belonging to this House being [taken away]: by requisition, by (transfer) from one district to another, by hire-contract, (or) by corvée for ploughing or for harvesting, by any Viceroy, any TroopCommander, any Mayor, any Agent, or anyone (else) [sent on] a mission to [Ku]sh; To prevent their boat being detained on the water, by any policecheck . . . .

Unauthorized detaining of temple transport ships is thematized again in § 11 of the same decree, while §§ 25–30 treat the confiscation of Nubian boats and of their cargo, the “tribute of Kush”, as well as the removal of crew members.57 Beside the Viceroy of Kush and his military and administrative personnel, largely Fortress-Commanders are addressed as potential offenders of the royal enactment. The main naval base of the 18th Dynasty was located at Perunefer. It was founded by Thutmose III in the northeastern part of the Delta next to the ancient Hyksos capital of Avaris/Tell el-Dabʾa, which was still in use as a royal residence at this time. The site comprised a harbor, storage facilities, a military camp including a military cemetery from the early 18th Dynasty (graves of soldiers and horse burials)58 as well as a royal estate.59 This was the place from where the Egyptian army departed to Asia and where it landed upon its return back home. From Perunefer, triumphal processions of spoils and captives headed southwards to the ancient capital of Memphis.60 Linked with this ­location   § 11: Ll. 47–50, KRI I, 53:10–16; §§ 25–30: ll. 82–97, KRI I, 56:6–57:6.  M. Bietak, “The Thutmoside stronghold of Perunefer”, EA 26 (2005), 13–17; id., “Perunefer: The Principal New Kingdom Naval Base”, EA 34 (2009), 15–17, and id., “Perunefer: An Update”, EA 35 (2009), 16–17. Until the archaeological investigations by the Austrian Mission at Tell el-Dabʾa, the exact location of Perunefer was debated; some scholars assumed the site close to Memphis, others argued for a place in the Delta, cf. D.G. Jeffreys, “Perunefer: At Memphis or Avaris?”, EA 28 (2006), 36–37. The dockyard of Perunefer is mentioned in the records of pBM 10056 vso. 9,11–12, Glanville, ZÄS 66 (1931), 120, 7*, see in the following. 59  Indirect reference to a royal estate at Perunefer is, for instance, given by the title of Superintendant of the King’s Estate at Perunefer born by Qenamun, the owner of TT 90, see below pp. 699–700. Glanville, ZÄS 68 (1932), 29f., stresses the development of the site from a royal estate including a dockyard and administrative as well as military institutions to a town with its own centre of worship. 60  Great Karnak Stela of Amenhotep II, Karnak, 8th pylon, ll. 33–35: “Departing of His Majesty from Perunefer, moving down to Mennefer in peace. List of booty . . . And the entire land saw the victories of His Majesty . . .”, Urk. IV, 1315:11–18, and Klug, Königliche Stelen, 260–270 and 502f. (bibliography). See also A. el H. Zayed, “Perou–Nefer: Port de guerre d’Amenophis II”, ASAE 66 (1987), 75–109. 57 58



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are some administrative records from the earlier 18th Dynasty: pErmitage 1116 A and B “verso”, both mentioning the prenomen of Amenhotep II, Aakheperure,61 and pBM 10056,62 which refers to a Prince Amenhotep, very probably a son of Amenhotep II,63 under whose reign Perunefer became an important military and administrative center. From pBM 10056, royal timber accounts, it becomes evident that Prince Amenhotep was in charge of timber deliveries for the royal dockyard.64 At the very beginning of the 19th Dynasty, Memphis was still the secular capital of Egypt.65 Palace accounts from the 2nd and 3rd year of Sety I suggest that the south quarters of the city were inhabited by middle- and high-rank state servants and officers, among them some high representatives such as the Vizier,66 the King’s Herald,67 a Lieutenant of the Army (jdnw n mšʿ) in charge of army logistics68 or

  (pErmitage 1116 A vs. 42) W. Golenischeff, Les papyrus hiératiques No. No. 1115, 1116 A et 1116 B de l’Ermitage imperial à St. Pétersbourg (Petersburg: 1913), pl. 16, and cf. W. Helck, Materialien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Neuen Reiches. Part IV.4: Eigentum und Besitz an verschiedenen Dingen des täglichen Lebens (Wiesbaden: Abhandlungen der geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur Jahrgang 1963 Nr. 3, 1963), 620–633. (pErmitage 1116 B vs. 56) Golenischeff, Papyrus hiératiques, pl. 27, and cf. W. Helck, Materi­ alien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Neuen Reiches. Part V: Eigentum und Besitz an ver­ schiedenen Dingen des täglichen Lebens (Wiesbaden: Abhandlungen der geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Jahrgang 1964 Nr. 4), 890–893. The date of the accounts is also discussed by Glanville, ZÄS 66 (1931), 108. 62   (pBM 10056) Glanville, ZÄS 66 (1931), 105–121, 1*–8*, and id., ZÄS 68 (1932), 7–41, and cf. Helck, Materialien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte. Part V, 874–890. 63   For the date of these documents, see Redford, JEA 51 (1965), 108–115. 64   Cf. Glanville, ZÄS 66 (1931), 106, and Säve-Söderbergh, Navy, 37. 65   Cf. pBN 206 col. I,3 (KRI I, 244:13), pBN 204 col. III,1 (KRI I, 250:12). Cf. also the Abydos Decree of Sety I at Nauri from his forth year, mentioning Memphis as the place where the king dwelled, l. 2 of the main text, KRI I, 46:5. 66  Nebamun: pBN 213 vs. I,2 (KRI I, 280:7, and KRITA I. Translations, 230). He left a statue at Abydos, now Cairo Museum CGC 1140, and a statue-base at Karnak-North (Karnak TCC.1.), KRI I, 283–284; KRITA I. Translations, 231f.; KRITA I. Notes and Comments, 186–189. The Vizier was already in office at the end of the 18th Dynasty, as he is mentioned in the tomb of a priest of Sobek, Hatiay, TT 324, from the same period, PM I.12, 395 [7]; N. de Garis Davies, A.H. Gardiner, Seven Private Tombs at Qurnah (London: Mond Excavations at Thebes 2, 1948), 46f., Taf. XXXIII–XXXIV, however, date the tomb into the 20th Dynasty, followed by Kitchen in RITA I. Notes and Comments, 188. For the early date see now E. Hofmann, Bilder im Wandel. Die Kunst der ramessidischen Privatgräber (Mainz: Theben 17, 2004), 18–20. 67  Nedjem: pBN 210 vso. frag. A,2 (KRI I, 272:5). 68  Wa: pBN 209 rto. II,5 (KRI I, 263:6). 61

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the Troop-Commander of Kush (ḥ rj-pḏ.t n Kš)69. According to the palace timber accounts, many mid-rank military and paramilitary officers, army scribes as well as chariot officers and soldiers of royal ships resided in the southern quarters of Memphis.70 In the lists, even the Captain of a Troop-Commander appears.71 Of a slightly later date is the ship’s log from pLeiden I 350 verso, which mentions two princes of Ramesses II and a King’s Daughter.72 The papyrus records the distribution of food rations to the ship crew carried out by the Memphite royal administration. Beside the two captains (nfw) and 9–10 temple servants (smd.t ḥ w.t-nṯr), who probably worked for the temple of Ptah, the crew included eight to nine so-called “trainees/men of the regiment”, sḏmw-ʿš/rmṯ (nj p¡) s¡,73 in other texts referred to as “soldiers”, wʿw (see above p. 649). In general, it seems that all of them received the same provisions, i.e., loaves of kyllestisbread,74 although in one instance “white [triangular] loaves” were given to the soldiers, while the rest of the crew including the two captains was supplied with the regular soldiers’ (kyllestis) bread.75 In contrast, the rations distributed among the passengers and messengers on board

  Khay: pBN 210 vso. frag. B,4 (KRI I, 272:12), pBN 211 rto. II,18 (KRI I, 275:8).   pBN209, passim. 71   jdnw n mšʿ, ḥ rj-pḏ.t n Kš, ḥ rj-pḏ.t n p¡ mšʿ, pBN 211 rto. I,22 (KRI I, 274:10), pBN 211 rto. II,5 (KRI I, 274:15); wr-nj-mḏ¡y.w, pBN 211 rto. II,16 (KRI I, 275:6), pBN 211 vso. I,6 (KRI I, 276:14); ṯ¡j-sry.t, pBN 209 rto. II,13 (KRI I, 263:15), pBN 209 rto. III,5 (KRI I, 264:13), pBN 209 rto. IV,15 (KRI I, 266:15), pBN 209 rto. IV,18 (KRI I, 267:1), pBN 210 rto. frag. A,1(KRI I, 271:7), pBN 211 rto. I,3 (KRI I, 273:5–6), pBN 211 rto. II,21 (KRI I, 275:13), pBN 211 vso. I,14 (KRI I, 277:4), pBN 211 vso. I,17 (KRI I, 277:6), pBN 211 vso. II,3 (KRI I, 277:13), pBN 213 rto. I,x+3–4 (KRI I, 279:13–14); sš-mšʿ, pBN 211 rto. I,15 (KRI I, 274:2), pBN 2134 rto. II, x+2 (KRI I, 280:11); ḥ rj-jḥ w n jḥ w n Stẖy ʿ.w.s., pBN 211 vso. III,5 (KRI I, 278:6); snnj, pBN 209 rto. II,21 (KRI I, 264:7), pBN 209 rto. III,1 (KRI I, 264:9); kḏn, pBN 210 rto. frag. A,x+3 (KRI I, 271:9), pBN 211 rto. III,x+2 (KRI I, 276:2), pBN 211 vso. I,19 (KRI I, 277:8), pBN 211 vso. III,7 (KRI I, 278:9); wʿw, pBN 209 rto. III,18 (KRI I, 265:10), pBN 209 rto. III,20 (KRI I, 265:12); nfw nj ḥ rj-pḏ.t n p¡ mšʿ, pBN 210 rto. frag. B,x+2 (KRI I, 271:12). 72   The Princes Khaemwaset and Ramesse as well as the Princess Isisnofret, J.J. Janssen, Two Ancient Egyptian Ship’s Logs. Papyrus Leiden I 350 verso and Papyrus Turin 2008+2016 (Leiden: 1961), 6f. 73  See the comment by Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 6–8. sḏmw/rmṯ (n p¡) s¡ are listed in pLeiden 350 vso. III,17; IV,13; IV, 30; V,4; V,15. This composite term is overtly discussed by Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 36f. ad III 17. Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 23f. ad II 1, however, takes the temple servants as the biggest group of the crew to be those obliged to row the ship. 74   For this kind of bread see again below the section “Supplies of troops, fortresses and garrisons abroad”. 75  See also Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 7f. 69 70



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could differ considerably.76 The papyrus, listing both jnw-deliveries in aliment by members of the royal court or by military officers and the recipients of these payments, gives an interesting insight into the interplay between the court, the administration and the army: Among the passengers were people from the house of Prince Ramesse, an offspring of Ramesses II, as well as dispatch carriers sent to the King’s Son and High-Priest of Ptah at Memphis Khaemwaset (col. III,1; III,26, col. IV,4). In addition, payments were turned in by Princess Isisnofret, daughter of Merenptah, who, again, might have been the grandson of Ramesses II and the son of the later king Merenptah (col. II,7; IV, 20),77 a Lieutenant-Commander of the Chariotry, jdnw nj tj-n.t ḥ trj (col. II,3) and two Charioteers, kḏn.w (col. II,9 and II,30). They all seem to have been closely linked to the Royal Residence. The identity of some further women and men bringing or receiving provisions must have been well known to the administration, as neither their titles nor their family background were explicitly given.78 Part of the group was also a certain p¡ jmj-r¡ mšʿ, “The Army Commander”: He was father of a Charioteer79 and provided as well as received food according to the registers.80 In accordance with Janssen, p¡ jmj-r¡ mšʿ should be taken as a title rather than as a personal name,81 given the fact that the phrase is not written with the determinative of the sitting-man otherwise used in all the male names in the text.82 In a group of contemporary letters which might have come from the same archive at Memphis, where also the ship’s log must have been filed, p¡ jmj-r¡ mšʿ is mentioned again

76  See, for instance, col. III,10–12, where a scribe receives 50 loaves of big white bread, whereas three imprisoned scribes only got three loaves “to eat”; this shows that some rations were meant, in fact, as payment, others, in contrast, were daily provisions. 77   For this interpretation see Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 84f., and cf. H. Sourouzian, Les monuments du roi Merenptah (Mainz: SDAIK 22, 1989), 27f. with n. 128. 78  A lady Tashuit, col. III,25; Ptahemmenu and Isyra ol. III,29, and a lady Heteri(?), col. IV,17. 79   Col. I, x+15, where the context is lost, and col. II,9. 80   Col. III,8; col. IV,33. 81   Cf. H. Ranke, Die ägyptischen Personennamen, vol. I. Verzeichnis der Namen (Glückstadt: 1935), 100, no. 18. 82   Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 19f. ad col. Ix+15. He also points out that the same expression occurs in letters from the period of Ramesses II, pLeiden I 360 and pLeiden I 368 (J.J. Janssen, “Nine Letters from the Time of Ramses II”, in: OMRO 41 (1960), 40 and 46), where he suggests to interpret it as a designation of the king himself, which, as he admits, cannot be proven by the ship’s log, where “The Army Commander” appears as father of a Charioteer Ramesnakht.

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as are Prince Khaemwaset, Prince Ramses and Princess Isisnofret.83 Since in one of these letters, pLeiden I 368, “the Army Commander” is presented as an outstanding authority, we may assume that he was of royal blood. Due to prosopographical evidence, it is not unlikely that he was identical with Prince Merenptah, designated successor to the throne, who was Commander-in-Chief of the Egyptian forces later during the reign of Ramesses II.84 Thus, the persons involved in the deliveries to the ships were high members and connexions of the royal family as well as important representatives of the army, and they had direct access to royal administrative and economic institutions. Their base of operation must have been Piramesse (modern Qantir), the new Residence, which was founded early in the 19th Dynasty in the north eastern Delta, where the royal chariotry and other important units of the army were located,85 while Memphis was still the administrative center, well linked to the King’s House and the palace administration by family ties, as the ship’s log and other administrative documents of the period show. According to archaeological evidence, the royal palace was situated in the northern zone of Piramesse as were stables, troop accommodations, and workshops.86 State Bureaucracy and Army The Royal Guard In matters of state security, beside police forces army units were deployed for preparing and securing royal appearances and visits as well as for guaranteeing order throughout the country when royal   Janssen, Ship’s Logs, 6 and 19f. ad 1x+15.  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 84f. 85   J. Dorner, “Zur Lage des Palastes und des Haupttempels der Ramsesstadt”, in: Haus und Palast im Alten Ägypten. Internationales Symposium 8. bis 11. April 1992 in Kairo (Wien: Untersuchungen der Zweigstelle Kairo des Österreichischen Archäologischen Institutes 14, 1996), 69–71; E.B. Pusch, “Pi-Ramesse-geliebt-von-Amun, Hauptquartier Deiner Streitwagentruppen: Ägypter und Hethiter in der Delta-Residenz der Ramessiden”, in: Pelizaeus-Museum Hildesheim. Die Ägyptische Sammlung (Mainz: Zaberns Bildbände zur Archäologie 12, 1993), 126–143, and id., “Piramesse-Qantir. Residenz, Waffenschmiede und Drehscheibe internationaler Beziehungen”, in: Pharao siegt immer. Krieg und Frieden im Alten Ägypten, S. Petschel and M. von Falck eds. (Bönen: 2004), 240–263. 86  See volume 9 (1999) of Ägypten & Levante dedicated to different aspects of the archaeological work at Piramesse, and E.B. Pusch, “Towards a Map of Piramesse”, EA 14 (1999), 13–15. 83 84



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power was unstable, e.g. during and after the Amarna Period.87 From the late 18th Dynasty, a royal decree by king Haremhab reveals interesting insights into political measures aiming at restrictions and patterns of abuse established during the Amarna Period to the detriment of ordinary people. In the context, the army is presented ambiguously, since on the one hand some of its members are accused of wrongfully confiscating resources from the broad population (see below the section “Abuse of military authority”), on the other hand former soldiers are appointed as priests when temples closed down during the Amarna Period are reopened:88 He (i.e., the king) equipped them (i.e., the temples) with wʿb-priests and lector-priests from the choicest of the army (stp nj mnfy.t), assigning to them fields and herds supplied with all (their) equipment.

Already earlier in the 18th Dynasty the military was involved in the management of temple personnel, as can be inferred from a wall scene in the tomb of Tjanuni, a Head of Royal Army Scribes and Scribe of Recruits, jmj-r¡ sš.w-mšʿ (wr) nj nsw and sš-nfr.w, where the tombowner is shown supervising a census of the army, the wʿb-priests, the King’s laborers and the female servants of the entire country as well as of all the cattle, poultry and small ­livestock.89

Thus, recruit officers were not only responsible for drafting and registering soldiers, but also for administering the lower priestly service and other temple work. In another tomb scene, Tjanuni inspects the recruitment and parades of troops only.90 It turns out that Tjanuni also acted as a sš-nfr.w n t¡ pḏ.t Pr-ʿ¡, Scribe of Recruits of Pharaoh’s Bowmen Troops—which suggests that he conscribed and assembled the Royal Guard at the Residence.91 87  R.J. Leprohon, “A Vision Collapsed. Akhenaten’s Reforms Viewed through Decrees of Later Reigns”, Amarna Letters 1 (1991), 66–73. 88   Coronation inscription of Haremhab l. 25 (Urk. IV, 2120:9–11), cf. Leprohon, Amarna Letters 1 (1991), 71f. 89  An. Brack and Ar. Brack, Das Grab des Tjanuni. Theben Nr. 74 (Mainz: AV 19, 1977), 43f. scene 15, text 34, and pls. 29b, 37. For his titles and epithets see the summary by Brack and Brack, op. cit., 97–99. 90   Broad Hall, west wall, south, Brack and Brack, Grab des Tjanuni, 37–39, 40–43, scenes 12 and 14, pls. 28a, 29a, 30a, 32–34, 35b. 91   This unusual title is only documented on funerary equipment from the coffin chamber of Tjanuni’s tomb, i.e., on some polychromously painted pottery vessels imitating red granite, Brack and Brack, Grab des Tjanuni, 63f. and 78, find-nos. 1/24–27 and 5/13, texts 77–78, pls. 14b, 46a–c, 64.

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Haremhab’s Decree provides some detailed information on the management of the Royal Guard. According to this source, the king temporarily summons up army units at court and installs them as his personal guard. Focussing little on the specific tasks connected with this function, the text emphasizes the recompenses awaiting the officers and soldiers in return for their special duty:92 I (i.e., the king) will maintain the custom of guard[ing] (mk.t) My Majesty along every [ fi]rst [day] they encircle (pẖr) My [Majesty], three times a month: It will be to them like a feast, every man sitting by (his) share of every good thing, consisting of good bread, meat and cakes, (all of it) being from the property of the King. [. . . . . . . . .], their voices, in that respect, reaching up to the sky, while praising all good things [. . . . . .], the com­ manders of the army (ḥrj.w-tp n.w mnfy.t), every leader of the army (ʿ¡ nb n(j) mšʿ), every soldier, [. . . . . . . . .] action by throwing (gifts) to them from the window (of appearance) and by calling everybody by his name by the King himself. They will emerge with exaltations and provisions from the property of the King’s House. But they will also access (regular) rations account of the (State) Granary, every single one of them coming off [loaded with?] barley and emmer. There has not been one who has not had [his] share. [. . . . . .] a ḏ¡-w¡-tj,93 who does for him the rest. [. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .] [They will return?] to their towns, without accomplishing

 Haremhab’s Decree, right side of stela, ll. 8–10, Urk. IV, 2158:3–2159:8, and Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 162–177. The decree seems to have been published in monumental writing at different important sites of Egypt, the most well-known and -preserved monument being the Karnak stela, but a fragment of the decree was also found at Abydos, now Cairo Museum CG 34162, M.P. Lacau, Stèles du Nouvel Empire, vol. I.2. Catalogue Général des Antiquités Égyptiennes du Musée du Caire Nos 34065–34186 (Cairo: 1926), 203f., and Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, pl. II. The attribution of the stela to Haremhab is based on fragments of the double scene in its upper part, each time showing the king performing an offering before Amun-Re and reproducing Haremhab’s royal names, cf. Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 1f. In his article “Probleme der Zeit Haremhebs”, CdE 96 (1973), 265, W. Helck considered the possibility that the stela had originally been erected by Tutanchamun and was later ursurped by Haremhab, like the famous Restauration Stela. In U. Bouriant’s tracing of the fragments (“A Thèbes”, RT 6 (1885), pl. between p. 40 and p. 41), which are today lost, there is, however, no sign of an usurpation, cf. Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 212f. 93   This term, followed by the determinative of the landing bird instead of the sitting woman, is attested only one more time in Egyptian sources, pAnastasi IV 12,9, where it is identified with one of the stinging insects that bother an officer of the borderpolice abroad, cf. J.E. Hoch, Semitic Words in Egyptian Texts of the New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period (Princeton: 1994), 381f. No. 572. Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 171J), presupposes that in the royal decree, the term characterizes a foreign servant. 92



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the term thereof in days sweating (lit.: giving heat),94 as their conscripts (ẖtt)95 hurry up behind them towards their place, carrying all that they had found there . . . .

By taking up the routine of calling officers and soldiers for service at the Residence in decades, the king keeps close contact with his troops all over the country and reassures himself of their loyalty, remunerating them with luxury goods at the palace96 and granting them a regular income of grain in their home-towns paid by the State Granary. The narrative part of the Teaching of King Amenemhet I, which refers to the king’s murder by palace guardians, shows how precarious the king’s relationship with his guard could be.97 Among the conspirers plotting the death of Ramesses III were also high-ranking officers: a Troop-Commander of Kush (see also below § p. 684) and an Army Commander, both guaranteeing military support for the planned putsch. The usurpator to the throne seems to have been a Prince Pentawere, backed by his mother; he might as well have held a high military position.98

94   Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 164, translates this passage “ayant achevé, quant à eux, le(ur) temps complet de garde là-bas sans (s’accorder) (le moindre) repos”, disregarding the determinative of the flame in the writing of the term srf. 95   For this term see the discussion by Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 172f. ad N). 96  On this practice see also below pp. 706–708. 97  Latest text edition: F. Adrom, Die Lehre des Amenemhet (Brepols: BAeg 19, 2006); translations: R.B. Parkinson, The Tale of Sinuhe and Other Ancient Egyptian Poems 1940–1640 BC (Oxford, New York: Oxford World’s Classics, 1997), 203–211, or G. Burkard, “ ‘Als Gott erschienen spricht er’: Die Lehre des Amenemhet als postumes Vermächtnis”, in: Literatur und Politik im pharaonischen und ptolemäischen Ägypten, J. Assmann and E. Blumenthal eds. (Cairo: BdE 127, 1999), 153–173. 98  Turin Judicial Papyrus col. IV,2 (mentions Ty, the mother of the Prince, who was accused herself ), KRI V, 352:3, KRITA Translations V, 298; Pentawere appears in col. V,4, among other delinquents who killed themselves after the verdict of the court, KRI V, 357:12, KRITA Translations V, 300, and again in col V,7: “Pentawere, who was the one to whom was given the other name (as usurpator probably his throne-name). He was brought in because of his having made alliance Ty, his mother, when she had plotted these matters together with the women of the harim, raising rebellion against his Lord,” KRI V, 358:9–12, KRITA Translations V, 301. Cf. P. Vernus, Affaires et scandales sous les Ramsès. La crise des valeurs dans l’Égypte du Nouvel Empire (Paris: 1993), 147–150, and G. Meurer, “‘Wer etwas Schlechtes sagen wird, indem er ihre Majestät lästert, der wird sterben’. Wie verwundbar waren das ägyptische Königtum bzw. der einzelne Herrscher?”, in: Jerusalem Studies in Egyptology, I. Shirun-Grumach ed. (Wiesbaden: ÄAT 40, 1998), 307–321. For a presumed identification of Pentawere with Sethherkhepeshef I depicted in the princely processions in the the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu see C. Leblanc, “La véritable identité de Pentaouret, le prince ‘maudit’”, RdÉ 52 (2001), 151–170. According to inscriptions in his tomb, QV 43, his full military rank was kḏn tpj nj ḥ m=f n p¡ jḥ w ʿ¡ nj Wsr-M¡ʿ.t-Rʿ mrj-Jmn

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A visual counterpart of the reward scene in the royal decree is found in Haremhab’s Memphite tomb. It shows the preparation of a banquet, with the participants feasting on heaps of bread, vegetables, meat, poultry or fish and wine. In another relief, an elderly official is honored by Haremhab, who is acting as a Deputy of the King, bestowing the “gold of honor”,99 a ceremony usually performed by the king only.100 Both these scenes and the mentioned paragraph in Haremhab’s Decree can be interpreted as expressions of a deep alliance between the monarchy and the army after the Amarna age. According to tomb scenes from El-Amarna,101 Akhenaten’s palace guard accompanied the king and royal relatives whenever they left the palace. Scenes in the tomb of Panehsy show that the guard consisted of soldiers and of mḏ¡y.w-police troops: While policemen are next to the royal chariots and their escort, standard-bearers and foreign­ n ẖnw Rʿw-mss ḥ k¡-Jwnw, First Royal Charioteer of the Great Stable of Ramesses III in the Residence of Ramesses III, he was, thus, officer of the Royal Chariotry at the Residence, cf. Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 89. 99  G. Th. Martin, The Memphite Tomb of Horemheb Commander-in-Chief of Tut’ankhamun. Part I. The Reliefs, Inscriptions, and Commentary (London: EES 55, 1989), 38–43 Scenes [18–21], pls. 30 above, 31, 32 above and 33, from blocks found in the first courtyard of the tomb. Banquets were also catered for the army and the chariotry returning back home from a campaign abroad, see pAnastasi IV 13,8–17,9, Gardiner, LEM, 49–54; Caminos, LEM, 198–219, cf. also Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Militärgeschichte des pharaonischen Ägypten, 284f. 100   Cf. P. Vomberg, Das Erscheinungsfenster innerhalb der amarnazeitlichen Palastarchitektur. Herkunft—Entwicklung—Fortleben (Wiesbaden: Philippika 4, 2004), 218–240, 243–245, figs. 126–141, 147–148. Textual references are given in the fictional letter of pAnastasi I 14,1–2; 15,1, H.W. Fischer-Elfert, Die Satirische Streitschrift des Papyrus Anastasi I. Textzusammenstellung (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 19922), 108f., 113; H.W. Fischer-Elfert, Die Satirische Streitschrift des Papyrus Anastasi I. Übersetzung und Kommentar (Wiesbaden: ÄA 44, 1986), 122–124 and 134. 101  See, above all, the scenes from the tomb of Mahu, Commander of the mḏ¡y.wpolice in Akketateu (ḥ rj-mḏ¡y.w n ¡ḫ .t-Jtn), tomb No. 9, N. de Garis Davies, The Rock Tombs of El Amarna. Part IV. Tombs of Penthu, Mahu, and Others (London: ArchSurv 16, 1906), 12–18, pls. 16–29, esp. 20–22 (escorting the royal chariotry towards the gate of the city or palace fortification wall), 24 (surveying trade at a military tower and income of goods), 25–26 (handing over of emprisoned foreigners to the Vizier, other high officials and an army commander at the entrance of a monumental building); the tomb of Panehsy, First Servant of Aten, tomb No. 6, first hall, N. de Garis Davies, The Rock Tombs of El Amarna. Part II. The Tombs of Panehesy and Meryra II (London: ArchSurv 14, 1905), 17–19, pls. 13–18 (royal drive out on east wall and visit to the temple on west wall), and the tomb of Merira, Great of Seers of Aten in the temple of Aten at Akketateu, tomb No. 4, first hall, N. de Garis Davies, The Rock Tombs of El Amarna. Part I. The Tomb of Meryra (London: ArchSurv 13, 1903), 23–28, pls. 10, 15–20 (royal excursion to the temple on west wall) and p. 32f., pls. 25–26 (royal visit at the temple with excort waiting outside the temple gate consisting of standard- and fan-bearers, soldiers and charioteers as well as police, on east wall).



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mercenaries are at the head and at each side of the parade.102 Another Amarna tomb scene suggests that the police was, in fact, subject to military administration, whose head was called a “Commander of the Army, who is present in front of His Majesty” (ḥ ¡.wtj nj mšʿ ntj ʿḥ ʿ(w) m-b¡ḥ ḥ m=f  ) and ranked among the palace officials (sr.w ʿ¡.w n(.w) Pr-ʿ¡ ʿ.w.s.), following the Vizier.103 This subordination is also thematized in the Duties of the Vizier:104 It is he who assembles the army contingent that escorts the Lord, when [sailing downstream] and upstream. It is he who organizes the remainder (of the guard) in the Southern City and in the Residence according to what have been said in the King’s House. To him are brought the Captain of the Ruler set at his office105 and the headquarters of the army in order that they be given the instruction of the army.

This hierarchical structure reflected in the Amarna tomb scene is echoed in the mourning procession on the famous Berlin Trauerre­ lief from the time of Tutankhamun, where the “Royal Scribe, Regent and Army General”, i.e., the Commander-in-Chief of the Army and designee to the throne (see above the section “Political power of the army”), comes first, followed by the two Viziers, while the rest of the group consisted of other high state representatives, among them the Intendant of the King’s Estate, the Royal Treasurer and the Director of the Treasury, a further Army General, the Mayor of Memphis

102  Davies, El Amarna II, pl. 13. The army as royal guard screening the king on journeys from the rest of the world is also described in the so-called Tempest Stela of king Ahmose from the early 18th Dynasty: “His Majesty descended to his ship, followed by his council, [his] army screening (him) [on the] east and west side, as there was no cover (left) on it after god’s might had appeared”, ll. 10–12 on verso, ll. 12–14 on recto, W. Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden: KÄT, 19832), 107; M.H. Wiener and James P. Allen, “Separate Lives: The Ahmose Tempest Stela and the Theran Eruption”, JNES 57 (1998), 1–28, Fig. 1a–b, and Barbotin, Âhmosis, 215–220. For the composition of the palace guard in the late Middle Kingdom see S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom. The Hieratic Documents (Malden: 1990), 81–84, where the function of security police was filled in by imy.w-ḫ t s¡.w-pr.w, and the highest military commanders close to the king were, besides a general, jmj-r¡ mšʿ, the ¡ṯw.w nj ṯ.t-ḥ k¡̣ , “Commanders of the Ruler’s Crew” opposed to those related to Egyptian towns, the ¡ṯw.w ʿ¡.w nj nw.t. 103  Davies, Rock Tombs IV, pl. 26, inferior register, see note 101. 104   Van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier, 218–228, and Urk. IV, 1112:12–16. 105   Van den Boorn, Duties of the Vizier, 218 b and 224–226, understands the verbform ḥ tp as a corrupt writing for ṯt, “naval crew”, in the title ¡ṯw nj ṯt ḥ q¡, a high military rank of the Late Middle Kingdom, see Berlev, RdÉ 23 (1971), 31–48, and already above the introduction to this chapter.

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and the highest local priests. It has been suggested that the prominent figure of the Regent and Commander-in-Chief of the Army be identified with Haremhab, as he held this extraordinary position at the court of Tutankhamun.106 These references again support the suggestion (see above the section “Political power of the army”) that the supreme command of the army was located at the center of the state, i.e., at court, and that it was closely related to other departments of the royal administration. Since Horemhab’s Decree focuses on change rather than on continuity of practices, it seems likely that the royal guard at Amarna had served on a permanent basis, in contrast to the rotation system reintroduced by Haremhab, according to which officers and soldiers were drafted from different locations for a limited period of time.107 This rotation might have been routine already during the earlier 18th Dynasty,108 as J.-M. Kruchten pointed out, referring to an inscription of the Lieutenant of the Army Amenemheb from the time of Amenhotep II:109 Ushering the heads of the army and the soldiers of the forces to the Pal­ ace, L.P.H., to let them feed on bread, beer, beef, wine, cakes, all kinds of good vegetables and all the good things which delight the heart in [front] of [th]is good god.

106  Relief Berlin No. 12411, A. Erman, ZÄS 33 (1895), 18–24, pls. I–II, and A.R. Schulman, “The ‘Berlin Trauerrelief ’ (No 12411) and Some Officials of Tutankhamun and Ay”, JARCE 4 (1965), 55–68, pl. XXX. Cf. also J. Berlandini-Keller, “Cortège funéraire de la fin XVIIIe dynastie à Saqqara. Staatliche Museen Munich ÄS 7127”, BSFE 134 (1995), 30–49. 107  During the Middle Kingdom, the royal guard was part of the king’s entourage, cf. O. Berlev, Obščestvennye Otnošenija v Egipte èpoxi Srednego Carstva. Social’nyj sloi “carskix ḥmww” (Moscow: 1978), 206f., and Chevereau, RdE 42 (1991), 71. 108   Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 177. 109  Tomb of Amenemheb, TT 85, registration and provisioning of troops on southern east wall of broad hall, PM I.21, 170f. (2), Urk. IV, 911:5–9; there is a copy of the scene and text in TT 88, the tomb of Pehsuher, who was a successor of Amenemheb: PM I.21, 180 (1); Urk. IV, 1459:19–1460:3; on the correspondences of the scenes and their location in each respective tomb see S. Eisermann, “Die Gräber des Imenemheb und des Pehsucher—Vorbild und Kopie?”, in: Thebanische Beamten­ nekropolen. Neue Perspektiven archäologischer Forschung. Internationales Symposion Heidelberg 9.–13.6.1993, J. Assmann et al. eds. (Heidelberg: SAGA 12, 1995), 74–77. For the contents of the scenes see also below pp. 669–670.



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Abuse of Military Authority Abuse of authority by members of the army against the broader population and economic institutions must have been a constant nuisance in Ancient Egypt. In Haremhab’s Decree, the two Lieutenants of the Army (see again below the section “Military management, work forces and army logistics”) are once accused of confiscating private boats for the use of the royal production center (wʿb.wt s.wt Pr-ʿ¡), in another case, the two “army regiments” located on the countryside in the north and in the south are criticized for wrongfully taking cattle skins from the population, which, instead, ought to be collected only by the Overseer of Cattle.110 On the one hand, the royal resolution was meant to protect ordinary people from abuse of power; on the other hand, it defended the official interest of collecting taxes in full and in due time. A short time later, Sety I enacted the Nauri-Decree to the benefit of the domain of his “Mansion of Millions of Years” at Abydos111 in order to prevent state representatives from interfering with any kind of personnel and property attached to the royal temple, which apparently owned fields, cattle, cargo ships, fish pools and marshes in the south and was one of the main benefitters of the so-called Nubian tribute (see also above the sections “Naval administration” and “The Royal Guard”). Besides officials on missions to Nubia, the target group of the verdict was imperial authorities such as the Viceroy of Kush, Commanders of Troops and Fortresses, Stablemasters or Charioteers.112 It was strictly forbidden to draft people belonging to the temple to any kind of state labor by requisition from one district to another, by (hire-)contract, by corvée for ploughing or by corvée for harvesting,113 110   § 1 of the decree, ll. 13–16, Urk. 2143:15–2144:17, and § 4, ll. 24–27, Urk. IV, 2147:16–2149:13, see also Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 28–47 and 80–95. 111   KRI I, 45:6–58:15; KRITA Translations I, 38–50, and KRITA Notes and Com­ ments I, 48–55 with bibliography, see also the translation by B.G. Davies, Egyptian Historical Inscriptions of the Nineteenth Dynasty (Jonsered: DMA 2, 1997), 277–308. Cf. Leprohon, Amarna Letters 1 (1991), 73; D.A. Warburton, State and Economy in Ancient Egypt. Fiscal Vocabulary of the New Kingdom (Freiburg, Göttingen: OBO 151, 1997), 190–193. 112  R. Morkot, “The Economy of Nubia in the New Kingdom”, in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence internationale des études Nubiennes Lille 11–17 Septembre 1994, vol. I. Communications principales (Lille: CRIPEL 17, 1995), 177. See also above the section “The Royal Guard”. 113  L.32, KRI I, 51:5–7: . . . r tm [rdj.t j.ṯ¡j.tw rm]ṯ nb nj pr pn m kfʿw m w n w m b¡-r¡-tj m bḥ w nj sk¡ m bḥ w n ʿw¡y . . .

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frequently practised by royal agents and military executive personnel used to organize and control manpower and other resources. To be in charge of a royal mission seems to have been a good excuse for administrative or economic interventions such as the confiscation of temple ships. According to the inscription, the boilerplate was then: I will take it (i.e., the ship) compulsorily from it (i.e., the temple) for any mission of Pharaoh, L.P.H.!114

In administrative documents, abuse of military power is often an issue. In an official letter from the early 19th Dynasty, pCairo 58054, the Standard-Bearer of the Squad “The-Bull-is-in-Nubia” reprimands one of his inferiors, a soldier and Chief of Impressment, ʿ¡ nj št,115 for having ignored written orders and unlawfully apprehended service personnel.116 In another letter, the same Standard-Bearer117 opposes Garrison Captains, ḥrj.w-jwʿy.t, for having prevented people118 from doing their labor for “the god of Tell el-Balamun (Jw nj Jmn)” and attracting criticism by the high royal administration (n¡ nj sr.w nj Pr-ʿ¡ ʿ.w.s.). Offences of that kind could be severely punished, as a Ramesside model letter suggests. It stigmatizes the unauthorized recruitment of corvée workers by a scribe of the High-Priest of Ptah, which, according to the text, could trigger the death penalty, and accuses the addressee of having overestimated his own humble position in project management:119 As for a Chariot Shield-Bearer (qrʿj) of His Majesty L.P.H., a Stable-Mas­ ter (ḥrj-jḥw) (or) a Retainer (šmsw) of Pharaoh L.P.H., he moves (thm) the masses of corvée-workers who are at Memphis. It is not you who gives

 L. 49: KRI I, 53:13–14.   Cf. the addressee of letter pCairo 58055 l.1, A. el-M. Bakir, Egyptian Epistolog­ raphy from the Eighteenth to the Twenty-First Dynasty (Cairo: BdE 48, 1970), pls. 3–4, and cf. E. Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, edited by E.S. Meltzer (Atlanta: Writings from the Ancient World, 1990), 115 No. 135. 116   Bakir, Egyptian Epistolography, pl. 2, and Wente, Letters, 115 No. 134. 117   pCairo 58053, Bakir, Egyptian Epistolography, pl. 1, and Wente, Letters, 114f. 118   The term appears twice, in l. 2 and l. 8, both times the determinative is the sitting woman omitting the sitting man; if the writing is correct, this might suggest that the people involved were actually women. 119   pTurin A vso. 4,1–3 and 4,5, Gardiner, LEM, 123f., Caminos, LEM, 454–456 and 508–510. For this passage see also A.M. Gnirs, “In the King’s House: Audiences and Receptions at Court”, in: Egyptian Royal Residences – Fourth Symposium on Egyptian Royal Ideology, The British Museum, 1–5 June 2004, R. Gundlach and J.H. Taylor eds. (Wiesbaden: KSG 4.1, 2009), 40f., and Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Ägyptische Militarge­ schichte, 283. 114 115



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orders to them the house of Thot, your god. . . . . . . . . . But you are a miserable little man, whose actions are all examined—how happy you are when only your eye saw them!

Other documents suggest that recruiting manpower from temple and royal estates in order to serve the interests of the army must have been a constant annoyance.120 Breaches of authority could, however, also strike the military organization: A letter by the Head of the RecordKeepers of the King’s Treasury from the time of Ramesses II objects that the Intendant of the royal temple at Western Thebes (i.e., the Ramesseum) had seized fields initially awarded to the Stable-Master (ḥrj-jḥw) of the Great Royal Stable at Piramesse and orders the latter’s immediate reimbursement. The text also shows that the transaction should be reported to the (Royal) Granary and implies that this institution worked side by side with the Royal Treasury and that both offices maintained close relationships with the military organization.121 In general, it seems that at the management level economic institutions and army were well connected. Both sides profited from this relationship: while the army received supplies and arable land from the state departments, these, in return, had access to military manpower for public projects and relied on army contingents and military expertise on missions abroad. Close cooperation could, however, also trigger problems of management, as competences and hierarchies were not clearly defined according to professional domains. Abuse of authority was, thus, a systemic disease, deeply rooted in the fabric of ancient Egyptian bureaucracy. Military Management, Work Forces and Army Logistics Due to its relatively free access to manpower, the military organization played an important role in public projects122 such as monumental 120  In a letter of complaint from pAnastasi VI (7–50, Gardiner, LEM, 73–76, Caminos, LEM, 280–293), an Overseer of the Estate of a sanctuary is said to “have fled” his working place for fear of being recruited by those “seizing soldiers (j.ṯ¡j.w wʿw.w)” ll. 41–42. A letter dispatched to a Scribe of the Armory of Pharao L.P.H. by an inferior on pBologna 1094 4,9–5,8, Gardiner, LEM, 5, Caminos, LEM, 16f., refers to the recruitment of three boys passed over by the Vizier to the temple of king Merenptah at Memphis to become wab-priests, but who were, instead, brought north—to the fortress of Tjaru—to become soldiers (ll. 5,2–5,4); the Scribe of the Armoury was, therefore, asked to investigate the case. 121   pSallier I ll. 9,1–9,9, Gardiner, LEM, 87, Caminos, LEM, 326–328. 122   Cf. also Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Ägyptische Militärgeschichte, 282–284.

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constructions, transportation of stone or field labor during the summer period123. The regular term for troops of workmen was “army”, mšʿ;124 by analogy, their head was an Army Commander, jmj-r¡ mšʿ, sometimes also called Army Commander of Royal Monuments, jmj-r¡ mšʿ m mnw nj nb-t¡.wj.125 Scribes of Recruits (sš.w-nfr.w) or Captains of the Desert Police (wr.w-mḏ¡y.w) often carried out this function in combination with that of a Supervisor of Constructions, jmj-r k¡.wt.126 In a long biographical inscription, the Scribe of Recruits Amenhotep Sa Hapu recounts a challenging building project under his control, the manufacturing and erecting of a colossal statue in one of the Theban temples built by his king, Amenhotep III:127 My Lord appointed me Supervisor of Constructions, And I made the name of the King endure eternally, not by imitating what was achieved before, but by providing for him a sandstone quarry —(for) he is Atum’s heir. I did (it) according to my heart’s wish, convoying his effigy to that huge temple of his, (built of ) all (kind) of hard stone like heaven. . . . . . . . . . I directed works on his statue, big and wide and high to its pillar, its splendor outshines the pylon, its length is 40 cubits, from the precious sandstone quarry to both sides of Atum. I manufactured (for it) ships of eight and brought it down the river, being (now) installed in his great temple, firm as heaven —those among you who will follow us, will be my witnesses!

123   Cf. pAnastasi V, 7,5–6 (= pChester Beatty V rto. 6,7ff.), Gardiner, LEM, 59, Caminos, LEM, 230, a text from the genre of the so-called Satire of Trades, where it is said that retainers (šmsw.w) of the army were branded when emitted to the fields. 124   Cf. L.-A. Christophe, “La stèle de l’an III de Ramsès IV au Ouadi Hammamat (No. 12)”, BIFAO 48 (1948), 32–34, and C. Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis. Fon­ dateur de la XVIIIe Dynastie (Brussels: 1971), 180–182. 125   The title is, for instance, held by Hapy, an officer of the Royal Guard, under Sety I, rock stela at East Silsila, KRI I, 61:12–13, KRITA Translations I, 53. 126  See Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 37, 141–159. 127  Statue from Karnak, now Cairo Museum CGC 583, L. Borchardt, Statuen und Statuetten von Königen und Privatleuten im Museum von Kairo Nr. 1–1294, part II. Text und Tafeln zu Nr. 381–653. Catalogue Général des Antiquités Égyptiennes du Musée du Caire Nos 1–1294 (Berlin: 1925), 134–139, pl. 100 (below), 101–104, ll. 15–17; Urk. IV, 1822:10–1823:12, and see the translation by A. Varille, Inscriptions concernant l’architecte Amenhotep fils de Hapou (Cairo: BdE 44: 1968), texte No. 11; cf. also Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 142–144.



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The entire army as one man followed my command, they did (their duty) joyously, their hearts happy, while praising and venerating the Good God. When they moored at Thebes rejoicing, the monument was erected on its place for the time after eternity.

According to his biography, Amenhotep Sa Hapu was responsible for each step of the building process: finding the proper sandstone quarry, directing the stonemasons work, organizing and supervising the transport of the monument on the river and to the temple where it should be erected as well as installing the statue at its place of final destination. For the enterprise, a large work force was necessary. In a second biographical inscription, Amenhotep speaks even of two colossal statues that he had moved from a quarry in the North to Western Thebes.128 Some tombs of the earlier 18th Dynasty at Thebes depict the provisioning of soldiers and officers (see also below the section “Supplies of troops, fortresses and garrisons abroad”). Most often, the scene is set in the broader military context of recruitment and exercises.129 According to the Decree of King Haremhab, army provisions were distributed and portioned by a logistics office headed by two Lieutenants of the Army (jdnw 2 nj p¡ mšʿ),130 after supplies had been granted by the Royal Granaries and related economic institutions. The catering

128  Statue from the 10th pylon at Karnak, now Cairo Museum JdE 44681, ll. 3–12, M.G. Legrain, “Au Pylône d’Harmhabi à Karnak (Xe Pylône)”, ASAE 14 (1914), 17f., pl. III (JdE 44861); Die Hauptwerke im Ägyptischen Museum Kairo (Mainz: 1986), No. 148, fig. 148, and Urk. IV, 1833:1–6. Among others, R. Stadelmann, “Die Herkunft der Memnon-Kolosse: Heliopolis oder Aswan?”, MDAIK 40 (1984), 291–296, identifies the two mentioned statues with the so-called Memnon’s colossi still in situ in front of the great temple of Amenhotep III on the west bank of Thebes; differently D.D. Klemm, R. Klemm and L. Steclaci, “Die pharaonischen Steinbrüche des silifizierten Sandsteins in Ägypten und die Herkunft der Memnon-Kolosse”, MDAIK 40 (1984), 207–220. 129  TT 85, tomb of the Lieutenant of the Army Amenemheb from the time of Thutmose III/Amenhotep II, broad hall, east wall, south, W. Wreszinksi, Atlas zur altägyp­ tischen Kulturgeschichte, vol. I. Privatgräber des Neuen Reiches (Leipzig: 1923), 94a–b; TT 88, tomb of the Lieutenant of the Army Pehsuher from the time of Amenhotep II, broad hall, east wall, south, Wreszinski, Atlas I, 279; TT 78, tomb of the Royal Scribe of Recruits Horemheb from the time of Thutmose IV/Amenhotep III, An. Brack and Ar. Brack, Das Grab des Haremheb. Theben Nr. 78 (Mainz: AV 35, 1980), 30–36, pls. 38–43, figs. 14–18. 130  Ll. 15 and 20, Urk. IV, 2144:11 and 2146:10, cf. Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb, 45f.

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scene in the tomb of Userhat, a Scribe of Bread Accounts,131 shows soldiers standing in line and receiving their rations of bread, as well as the higher charges of the army squatting on the floor or, depending on their rank, sitting on mats and having food and drinks.132 Thus, as a subordinate to the Royal Granary, the tomb-owner was involved in the process of food distribution at garrisons and military bases. A catering scene in the tomb of the jdnw nj p¡ mšʿ Amenemheb (TT 85) suggests that his office must have closely cooperated with that of army logistics: the tomb-owner, assisted by a personal scribe, supervises the distribution of food in company of the Director of the Royal Granaries and Accountant of (the ingredients) of Brewing and Baking, ḥ sb pfsw,133 who was responsible for delivering the exact quantities of grain to the bakery and brewery, where bread and beer for the soldiers were produced.134 Both tombs display close ties between the Royal Granary and the army. According to his biography, Djehutimose, Royal Herald under Thutmose III, was deployed as a wp.wtj-nsw on a military mission to Nubia at a time, when he held the office of the Director of the Royal Granaries, in order to nourish (snm) the [. . .] of the king, the [a]rmy, the entourage (lit.: ‘friends’) and the magistrate, to levy the army (sḥwj) and to conscript the recruits (snhj ḏ¡m.w), and in order to do what is to be done in the whole land and to render every man satisfied with his payment (šb.w) . . .135

In this inscription, a former Director of the Royal Granaries claims of having been responsible for supplying a campaigning army abroad, 131  TT 56, the tomb of the Scribe of Bread Accounts of Upper- and Lower-Egypt Userhat from the time of Amenhotep II, C. Beinlich-Seeber and A.Gh. Shedid, Das Grab des Userhat (TT 56) (Mainz: AV50, 1987), 64–69, pls. 4, 5, 29, figs. 24–26. To the depiction of provisioning a genre scene is added, showing soldiers being treated by barbers. As the tomb-owner was a Bread Accountant, his tomb decoration does not include any recruitment scenes. 132  A similar composition characterizes the catering scene in the tomb of Horemheb, TT 78 (see above n. 129), showing ordinary soldiers approaching a gate where they receive their bread rations, while army commanders take their meals seated, forming groups and feasting on different sorts of food according to their ranks. 133   Urk. IV, 911:13–14, 912:6. 134   Cf. Beinlich-Seeber and Shedid, Grab des Userhat, 104f., who take the Director of Granaries as the one who calculates the rations of bread and beer to be delivered. 135  H. Selim, “Two Unpublished Eighteenth Dynasty Stelae from the Reign of Thutmoses III at Cairo Museum TN. 20.3.25.3 and TN. 21.3.25.14 (Plates I–II)”, in: Studies in Honor of Ali Radwan vol. II (Cairo: Supplément aux Annales du Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte. Cahier No. 34, 2005), 333–337, fig. 2, pl. II.



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but also for functions usually assigned to the Lieutenants of the Army, such as the recruiting and inspecting of the troops. A Ramesside model letter on pSallier IV may offer further insight on the relational hierarchies between the state department and the military, as it explicitly mentions a Royal Scribe and Overseer of the Royal Granaries as the superior (ntj r-ḥ ¡.t) of a Lieutenant of the Army entrusted with the sending of good quality grain to a state institution, probably the “Mansion of Millions of Years” of king Merenptah at Western Thebes.136 The author of the letter, an Intendant of the Estate of this temple, appears as a Lieutenant’s supervisor reminding him of the orders he had to carry out. Two facts can be concluded from this document: 1) The Lieutenant was subordinated to both offices of the same establishment, the granary and the estate of the temple, while the first seems to be subordinated to the second. 2) Since the temple administration acted by order of the king himself, its representatives were in a position that could overrule hierarchies at work in other institutions such as the army. In this case, the channels of communication might have run directly from the King’s House to the administration of the Theban temple of Merenptah and from their to the office of army logistics. pAnastasi I, a long fictive letter from the 19th Dynasty presenting a rhetorical dispute between two military men, also dwells on the qualifications needed by a Scribe of Recruits in charge of building projects, e.g. the competence to determine the exact number of men needed to erect a colossal statue on its spot and the right quantity of provisions for the workers.137 This is also a topic treated in an inscription of Sety I, who is said to have sent out “soldiers of the army, one thousand men”, to the sandstone quarries of Gebel es-Silsila in order to transport royal monuments down the river to Thebes, having provided them satisfactorily with ointment, beef, onions(?) and plenty of vegetables. Each man amongst them (received) 20 Deben (about 1,800 g) of bread twice a day, bundles of vegetables, roasted meat and two sacks of grain each month.138

  pSallier IV vso. 9,1–4, Gardiner, LEM, 93f., Caminos, LEM, 355f.   pAnastasi I 16,5–17,2, Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Textzusammenstel­ lung, 117–119, and id., Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 143–147. 138  Rock stela by Sety I at Gebel es-Silsila, ll. 6–10, KRI I, 60:10–61:1, KRITA Trans­ lations I, 52, and KRITA Notes and Comments I, 56f., as well as Davies, Egyptian Historical Inscriptions, 203, see also below the section “Supplies of troops, fortresses 136 137

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In general, work forces were supplied by representatives of the Royal Granary and the Treasury as well as by local authorities of the city or district where a construction project took place. In a letter on pTurin B, orders were given to move three large barges full of corn and ointment, the provisions for a big work force of an unspecified number, at a temple construction site. Workmen were supervised by three companies of soldiers (i.e., 600 men), which indicates that armed control was necessary to keep the work going and prevent desertion.139 In pSallier I, a scribe of the Head of Record-Keepers of the Royal Treasury reports to his superior on having correctly paid the seasonal laborers who were bringing in the harvest of the King’s fields in bread (akk) on a daily basis and ointment three times a month.140 From the time of Ramesses IV, some precise work force sizes are known: the rock inscription in the Wadi Hammamat dating to the king’s first year lists 10 sculptors, 20 stonemasons, 20 desert policemen, 50 stone carriers, 100 quarrymen and 200 carriers; these were headed by middle-ranking paramilitary (desert police), administrative and temple personnel.141 Later, in regnal year 3, the executive staff of a much bigger expedition142 consisted of 2 Royal Butlers, 1 Lieutenant of the Army, 1 Overseer of the Treasury, 2 Chiefs of Impressment, 1 Charioteer of the Royal Residence, 1 Register Scribe and 1 Allocation Scribe of the Army, 1 Head of the Army Controllers(?) (ḥ rj-¡ṯw.w n(.w) mšʿ)143 and garrisons abroad. Cf. also the stela Cairo CG 34504 by Ramesses II from the area of Heliopolis, focussing on the king’s role as the good shepherd of his work force, KRI II, 361:2–362:12. 139   pTurin B vso. 2,3–11, Gardiner, LEM, 126f., Caminos, LEM, 469–471. 140   pSallier I 5,2–4, Gardiner, LEM, 81f.; Caminos, LEM, 307–312. 141  Rock stela ll. 4–6, G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres du Wadi Ham­ mamat (Paris: 1957), 24f., 103–106 No. 89 (KRI VI, 1:9–15), see also T. Hikade, Das Expeditionswesen im ägyptischen Neuen Reich. Ein Beitrag zu Rohstoffversorgung und Außenhandel (Heidelberg: SAGA 21, 2001), 38–40, 199–201, Kat.Nr. 113. 142  Rock stela ll. 13–18, J. Couyat and P. Montet, Les inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques du Ouadi Hammamat (Cairo: MIFAO 34: 1912), 34–39 No. 12, pl. 4 (KRI VI, 12–14); see also L.-A. Christophe, “La stèle de l’an III de Ramsès IV au Ouadi Hammamat (No. 12)”, BIFAO 48 (1948), 1–38; M. Valloggia, Recherche sur les “Mes­ sagers” (wpwtyw) dans les sources égyptiennes profanes (Geneva, Paris: Hautes Études Orientales 6, 1976), No. 133, 172–174 No. 133, and Hikade, Exepditionswesen, 41–44, 205–209 Kat.Nr. 120. 143  In his translation of pLouvre 3171 from the 18th Dynasty A.H. Gardiner, “Ramesside Texts Relating to the Taxation and Transport of Corn”, JEA 27 (1941), 57, renders the title given in l. 2,6, as “Quartermaster of the Army”; since deliveries of grain to the Granary at Memphis by ship are concerned and the mentioned military officer takes care of payments, a relation of his function with army provisions and logistics seems plausible; cf. the documentation of the title presented in Cheverau, Prosopographie, 229 No. 35.01–06. In Haremhab’s speos at Gebel es-Silsila, the Regent



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and 1 Overseer of Craftsmen. All of them were mentioned by name. They controlled, with the aid of 20 Scribes of the Army, 20 Stablemasters of the Royal Residence, 20 Army Controllers, and 50 Charioteers of the Chariotry a work force of 5,000 men, joined by 200 rowers from the fishermen’s units of the Royal Residence, 800 Apiru as well as 2,000 workers from royal temples. In addition, a Deputy of the Head of the Desert Police commanding 50 policemen and familiar with the geography and geology of the region, watched over 130 quarrymen, their 3 overseers, and 6 artists. The list finally includes a Director of Priests and Overseer of Cattle as well as 50 priests, scribes and lowerranking administrators. The assignment of executive personnel from different state departments such as the Royal Palace, the Treasury, the Cattle Ministry, the Royal Chariotry, Desert Police, the army, and temple administration shows that these branches worked together and that cooperation worked very well. This was of paramount importance when it came to concerted public projects. During the mission to the Wadi Hammamat, the mentioned 20 stablemasters attended and fed the horses of the deployed chariotry. Charioteers and Army Controllers must have been in charge of protecting the expedition from assaults by desert people, but also of controlling the large work force, preventing corvée workers and prisoners from running off.144 Provisions were commissioned by the Director of the Treasury, the Chiefs of Impressment and the Overseer of Cattle, while the Army Scribes calculated the amounts of rations to be distributed among the workmen, and designated successor to the throne takes orders from the king to make the ¡ṯw n mšʿ “know counting better than the Lord of Writings (i.e., Thot) and be apter than the Lord of Hermopolis (i.e., again Thot) his recording of booty (kfʿ) that every man made in his (i.e., the king’s) name among the swordsmen (ḫ pšy.w) of the naval regiments” involved in an expedition by Haremhab to Nubia: broad hall, west wall, depiction of the co-regent of Haremhab (Paramessu(?)) with text, A.-C. Thiem, Speos von Gebel es-Silsileh. Analyse der architektonischen und ikonographischen Konzeption im Rahmen des politischen und legitimatorischen Programmes der Nachamarnazeit (Wiesbaden: ÄAT 47.1, 2000), scene no. 90, 142, 145–149, 321, pl. 61, on the title in question see 145 (p); cf. C.R. Lepsius, Denkmaeler aus Aegypten und Aethiopien (Genève: 1972 [reprint]), 3rd part vol. V–VI, pl. 120 b. Since in both sources, the title holder is connected with the fleet, he might be an army controller of the navy. Cf. above p. 640 and 663 n. 102. 144  In a fictional letter, pBologna 1094 rto. 11,9–vso. 1,6, a high military administrator addresses a charioteer, under whose management an old soldier seems to have been made a cultivator, Gardiner, LEM, 11, and Caminos, LEM, 31–33. See also the model letter on pTurin A vso. 4,1–3 contrasting the power of high military officers with the poor freedom of action low and middle administrators had (above pp. 666f). pTurin B vso. 3,1–9 addresses among other issues the desertation by corvée workers, some of which were prisoners, Gardiner, LEM, 127, and Caminos, LEM, 470–472.

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craftspeople and military. The project was conducted by two Royal Butlers and a Lieutenant of the Army, guaranteeing direct royal contact and control and a smooth access to supplies and professional handling of quarried blocks or other stone monuments on their way to Egypt. A model letter from the late 19th Dynasty presents a project management as consisting of a high palace official, again a Royal Butler, and army commissaries of stores, i.e., two Lieutenants of the Army. As the latter were obliged to report to the Royal Butler, having been entrusted with the transporting and erecting of three royal stelae, it is evident that the military officers were subordinated to the palace official.145 It can be inferred that royal projects could be directed by authorized royal agents recruited from the king’s close entourage, even though another professional context than that of the palace was in demand. The role of army scribes engaged in building projects is also discussed in pAnastasi I: a Royal Scribe of Recruits (sš nfr.w nj nb.t¡wj) and Royal Scribe of Orders to the Army (sš-nsw sḥ n.t n mšʿ) had to calculate rations for an army at work,146 the quantity of mud bricks to be used for building a construction ramp,147 the size of the work force employed to drag an obelisk, also assessing the latter’s weight and size,148 or to erect a royal colossal statue.149 According to a Ramesside model letter, soldiers as well as corvéeworkers of Westsemitic descent, the so-called Apiru, were drafted to drag stones for a temple pylon under the supervision of a Head of the Police.150 In the same text, a jdnw n p¡ mšʿ is again responsible for the transport of a royal statue and its erection in the temple precinct of Ptah at Memphis.151 Construction enterprises, and thus, work forces, including regiments of soldiers, were sometimes monitored by the local administration of the city or district where a project took place, as a letter from an Intendant and Mayor of Thebes suggests.152 The Police   pAnastasi V 23,7–25,2, Gardiner, LEM, 69f.; Caminos, LEM, 265–269.   pAnastasi I 13,6–7, Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Textzusammenstellung, 107, and id., Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 119. 147   pAnastasi I 13,8–14,8, Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Textzusammenstel­ lung, 107–112, and id., Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 121–132. 148   pAnastasi I 14,8–16,5, Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Textzusammenstel­ lung, 112–117, and id., Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 133–142. 149  See already above. 150   pLeiden 348 vso. 6,5–8, Gardiner, LEM, 134, Caminos, LEM, 491, 493f. 151   pLeiden 348 vso. 7,6–8,1, Gardiner, LEM, 134f., Caminos, LEM, 492, 495f. 152   pTurin B vso. 2,3–4,1, Gardiner, LEM, 126f., Caminos, LEM, 469–473. 145 146



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Commander Amenemone mentioned in pLeiden 348 is also known from historical records of the time of Ramesses II: In a biographical inscription, he sums up his career, which he started as a King’s Retainer (šmsw-nsw); later on, he became a Charioteer (kḏn) and Commander of Troops of the Army (ḥ rj-pḏ.t n p¡ mšʿ), an executive rank that qualified him to operate as Head of the Police (according to pLeiden 348) and Director of all Works at the King’s Mansion of Millions of Years at Thebes (Luxor statue) at the end of his professional lifetime.153 It is difficult to determine which military rank was considered suitable for supervising a construction project under which circumstances. Certainly individual aspects such as a close relationship to the king and personal achievements and qualities prompting royal favor were determining factors in the nomination of a Director of Works as in any kind of promotion that took place in the higher echelons of bureaucracy. This routine was deeply rooted in the Egyptian social network system fostering individual success and merits granted by the king as well as absolute loyalty and obedience to the crown. As mentioned above, the military organization strongly interacted with economic institutions, in particular the State Granaries, the Treasury, the Royal Estates, the King’s House itself, but also with local city governments. It is not always clear which side exerted more authority on the other. Sources rather suggest that orders from different offices or departments cooperating with each other were at times inconsistent. Military Administration Abroad Egyptian foreign policy had a strong impact on both administration and military organization. After a long war against the Kushite kingdom, the Southern Nile valley and desert areas became part of the Egyptian empire, whose interests were represented by a provincial government. Its claim for hegemony in Western Asia made her a global player in a complex political system of kingdoms, petty princedoms and city-states, the balance of which was kept on the basis of diplomatic liaisons, economic agreements, and military dominance. In contrast to the situation in Nubia, Egypt’s role in the Levant was not pursued by imposing a tight bureaucratic apparatus upon vassal kinglets and cities, but rather by exploiting local structures, at the head

 Statue Luxor J 141, ride sight, ll. 3–11 (KRI III, 274:16–275:6).

153

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of which were vassal rulers and governors, and a loose network of administrative, military and diplomatic institutions and facilities relying on exchange between the Residence and the Egyptian bases and subsidiaries abroad.154 Nubian Provincial Administration and the Military From the beginning of the New Kingdom on, the highest authority of the administration of Nubia was the Viceroy (of Kush), bearing the double title s¡-nsw (n Kš) jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt rsj.wt, King’s Son (in/of Kush) and Director of Southern Foreign Countries. Already during the Second Intermediate Period, the executive title s¡-nsw was used as a marker of direct subordination to the king in the titulatures of Commanders, ṯsw.w, of fortresses and fortified towns in Nubia.155 With the establishment of the governor’s position, the combination s¡-nsw 154  See, among the huge variety of publications on the topic, D.A. Warburton, Egypt and the Near East. Politics in the Bronze Age (Neuchâtel: Civilisations du Proche­Orient. Série IV.1, 2001); R. Morkot, “Egypt and Nubia”, in: Empires. Perspectives from Archaeology and History, S.E. Alcock et al. eds. (Cambridge: 2001), 226–251; M. Liverani, International Relations in the Ancient Near East. 1660–1100 BC (Houndmills: 2001); J.K. Hoffmeier, “Aspects of Egyptian Foreign Policy in the 18th Dynasty in Western Asia and Nubia”, in: Egypt, Israel, and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Studies in Honor of Donald B. Redford, G.N. Knoppers and A. Hirsch eds. (Leiden, Boston: PdÄ 20, 2004), 121–141; D.B. Redford, From Slave to Pharaoh. The Black Experience of Ancient Egypt (Baltimore and London: 2004), 38–57; Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, 46–69, or E.F. Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism. Military Bases and the Evolution of Foreign Policy in Egypt’s New Kingdom (Leiden and Boston: PdÄ 22, 2005). Cf. now also M. Müller, “A View to a Kill: Egypt’s Grand Strategy in her Northern Empire”, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel: History, Imperialism, Ideology and Literature. Proceedings of a Conference at the University of Haifa, 3–7 May 2009, S. Bar, D. Kahn and J.J. Shirley eds. (Leiden, Boston: Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 52, 2011), 236–251. 155  One of the first Viceroys was Ahmose-Turi, who acted as a Commander of the fortress of Buhen under king Ahmose and was later on promoted into the function of the provincial governor combining the titles of s¡-nsw and jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt rsj.wt, see now in greater detail J.J. Shirley, “Viceroys, Viziers & the Amun Precinct: The Power of Heredity and Strategic Marriage in the Early 18th Dynasty”, JEH 3.1 (2010), 75–82; on his inscriptions see D. Randall-Maciver and C.L. Woolley, Buhen. Text (Philadelphia: Eckley B. Coxe Junior Expedition to Nubia 7, 1911), 87–89, as well as L. Habachi, “The First Two Viceroys of Kush and their Family”, Kush 7 (1959), 45–62; id., “Four Objects Belonging to Viceroys of Kush and Officials Associated with Them”, Kush 9 (1961), 210–214, figs. 1–2, pl. XXVII, and Urk. IV, 79:5–81:8 (announcement of enthronement of Thutmose I published on three stelae from different locations, Wadi Halfa, Kuban, and the region of the First Cataract, cf. B. Bryan, “The Eighteenth Dynasty before the Amarna Period (c.1550–1352 BC)”, in: The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, I. Shaw ed. (Oxford, New York, 2000), 231. See also Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, 47f., 50, and Redford, From Slave to Pharaoh, 40f.



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(n Kš) jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt rsj.wt became the official designation of the Viceroys. The expanded version s¡-nsw n Kš, King’s Son of/in Kush, appears as the standard form of the rank from the middle of the 18th Dynasty.156 Those who were selected for the position were, in general, senior military commanders who enjoyed the king’s confidence. Ramesside Viceroys often included military ranks in their titulatures and emphasized their origins as officers of the specialized forces of the army, bearing titles such as Commander of Troops, ḥrj-pḏ.t, Stablemaster, ḥrj-jḥw (nj nsw), Charioteer of the King, kḏn tpj nj ḥm=f or even those of a Marshal, jmj-r¡ ssm.wt, and of His Majesty’s Lieutenant-Commander of the Chariotry, jdnw nj ḥm=f n tj n.t-ḥtrj, the highest positions in the royal chariotry.157 Although in the early New Kingdom Viceroys barely mention military ranks in their historical records, biographical sentences or epithets provide information on their respective careers as experienced combat soldiers in the royal entourage. Usersatet, governor of Nubia under Amenhotep II, was one of them. In rock inscriptions at the Southern border of Egypt he is called “the brave [of the King]”158 or “the one concerned with booty, the brave in vile Kush”,159 epithets that clearly refer to his military expertise. In very similar terms he is addressed by Amenhotep II as “the brave one who made booty in all the foreign countries, chariot warrior who fought for his Majesty [Amenhotep]” on a stela found at the fortress of Semna.160 Earlier in

156   The first Viceroy to be known as a “King’s Son of Kush” was Amenhotep under Thutmose IV, J. de Morgan et al., Catalogue des monuments et inscriptions de l’Égypte antique. Première série. Haute Égypte, vol. 1. De la frontière de Nubie à Kom Ombos (Vienna: 1894), 92 no. 108, and now A. Gasse and V. Rondot, “The Egyptian Conquest and Administration of Nubia During the New Kingdom: The Testimony of the Sehel Rock-Inscriptions”, Sudan & Nubia 7 (2003), 44 with pl. 5. Ibid., 42 table 1 is a list of all known Viceroys of Nubia during the New Kingdom. 157  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 135f. 158   de Morgan et al., Catalogue, 91 No. 100, and cf. Gasse and Rondot, Sudan & Nubia 7 (2003), 43 No. 3. 159   de Morgan et al., Catalogue, 91 No. 103, and cf. Gasse and Rondot, Sudan & Nubia 7 (2003), 43 No. 4. According to B. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV (Baltimore: 1991), 89 n. 184, the inscription may have been Khaemwaset’s, another important title holder in the Nubian military administration. 160  Stela Boston MFA 25.632, l. 5, W. Helck, “Eine Stele des Vizekönigs WsrSt.t”, JNES 14 (1955), 22–31; Urk. IV, 1343:20–1344:1, for further translations see Wente, Letters, 27; G. Moers, “ ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’. Fremdheit und Alterität im pharaonischen Ägypten”, in: Abgrenzung—Eingrenzung. Komparatistische Studien zur Dialektik kultureller Identitätsbildung, F. Lauterbach, F. Paul and U.-C. Sander eds. (Göttingen: 2004), 133, and M. Müller, “Ägyptische Briefe aus der Zeit der 18. Dynastie”, in: Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments. Neue Folge, vol. 3. Briefe

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the 18th Dynasty, during the reign of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III, the Viceroy Inebny-Amenemnekhu, in contrast, did not withhold his military ranks. In the same inscription that characterizes him as “the beloved of his Lord owing to his excellency, who followed his Lord on his steps in the southern and northern foreign country”, he is qualified as ḥrj-pḏ.t, Troop Commander, and Overseer of the King’s Weapons, jmj-r¡ ḫ ʿ.w n(j) nsw.161 At the dawn of the 18th Dynasty, main operational areas for the Egyptian army were Upper and Lower Nubia, then under the control of the king of Kush, who resided in Kerma to the south of the third Nile cataract. This was also the sphere of action of the early Viceroys, some of whom report on successful attacks against the Nubian enemy.162 It can be followed that a s¡-nsw in Nubia was originally a military function delegated by the king to qualified army commanders. After the conquest of Nubia and the establishment of a provincial government, the rank emphasized the administrative rather than the military aspect of the executive function. This semantic shift may explain why Viceroys of the early New Kingdom rarely refered to military ranks in contrast to their Ramesside fellow colleagues, whose military expertise was mandatory for the position of the provincial governor, but no longer inherent in the title of a s¡-nsw n Kš.163 Among later Viceroys, it was therefore quite common to add former army ranks to their administrative titles in order to prove their military specialization as commanders of elite troops and/or the chariotry. Similar to the rank of the Commander-in-Chief of the Egyptian army, which was most often held by the designated crown prince, the (Gütersloh: 2006), 321–323. On Usersatet’s military career see also J.J. Shirley, “What’s in a Title? Military and Civil Officials in the Egyptian 18th Dynasty Military Sphere”, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel: History, Imperialism, Ideology and Literature. Proceed­ ings of a Conference at the University of Haifa, 3–7 May 2009, S. Bar, D. Kahn and J.J. Shirley eds. (Leiden, Boston: Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 52, 2011), 292 n.6. 161   Block statue BM EA 1131, ll. 9–12, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, &c., in the British Museum, part V (London: 1914), 10 No. 374, pl. 34, and W.V. Davies, “Tombos and the Viceroy Inebny/Amenemnekhu”, Sudan & Nubia 12 (2008), 28 and pls. 9–10. 162  See e.g. the inscription left by the Viceroy Turoy on Sehel Island in year 3 of Thutmose I, Gasse and Rondot, Sudan & Nubia 7 (2003), 41 pl. 3, or the inscription of year 20 of Thutmose III on the Island of Tombos, reporting on a punitive expedition by the king and on the Viceroy’s effectiveness in delivering luxury Nubian goods, Davies, Nubia & Sudan 12 (2008), 25–28, figs. 1–2, pls. 1–2, with further bibliography. 163   Cf. C. Raedler, “Zur Prosopographie von altägyptischen Militärangehörigen”, in: Militärgeschichte des Pharaonischen Ägypten, 329–336, on the careers of two Viceroys under Ramesses II, Huy (see also below) and Setau.



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Viceroy was the highest authority of the forces deployed in Nubia. Once Wawat (Lower Nubia) and Kush in the south were conquered and Kerma’s political power smashed, the Viceroy concentrated on the development of economic and administrative control of the new province.164 After the establishment of Egyptian control in Nubia, encroachments by the local population could occur, provoking military intervention on behalf of the provincial government. According to a stela erected by the Viceroy Merimose for Amenhotep III at Semna East, conscription for military interventions in Nubia heavily relied on local manpower:165 . . . Then an [arm]y of Pharaoh, L.P.H., was levied, which the Viceroy headed, consisting of ships’ crews equipped with commanders, each man vis-à-vis his village, from the fortress town of Baki (Kuban) to the fortress town of T¡-r¡-y, what makes navigating 52 jtr.w (about 546 km) . . .

The inscription suggests that the levy of an army in times of strife or upheaval was based on local conscripts. Relying on the transport of troops by ship, the levy could be accomplished at a rapid pace. Although the Viceroy decided upon military operations and strategies, these were often delegated to a deputy or a military officer of the governor.166 Necessity could, however, also lead a high civil title holder like the Memphite Amenhotep Son of Heby to be appointed ad hoc as commander of a Nubian campaign. Under certain circumstances, forces deployed in Nubia may have been, at least in parts, conscribed in Egypt.167

164   For the controversial discussion of the expansion of the province consisting of two regions see Morkot, in: Empires, 234–238, with further bibliography. On the administration of Nubia during the New Kingdom see I. Müller, Die Verwaltung der nubischen Provinz im Neuen Reich (Berlin: 1976). 165  Stela BM EA138, ll. 2–5, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, etc. British Museum, part VIII, I.E.S. Edwards ed. (London: 1939), 21f. No. 657, pl. 20, Urk. IV, 1659:13–17, cf. T. Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte altägyptischer Aussenpolitik (Lund: 1941) 228, and Z. Topozada, “Les deux campagnes d’Amenhotep III en Nubie”, BIFAO 88 (1988), 154 and 164. Cf. also above the biography of Djehutimose (section “Military management, work forces and army logistics”). 166  In the 20th Dynasty, for instance, Penniut, Deputy of Wawat, was mandated to handle local riots, G. Steindorff, Aniba, vol. 2 (Glückstadt, Hamburg, New York: 1937), pl. 102, and M. Fitzenreiter, “Identität als Bekenntnis und Anspruch—Notizen zum Grab des Pennut (Teil IV)”, Der Antike Sudan. Mitteilungen der Sudanarchäolo­ gischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin E.V. 15 (2004), 178f. 167  Graffito at Biggeh, mentioning the King’s Superintendant at Memphis Amenhotep Son of Heby in the function of a jmj-r¡ mšʿ nj nb-t¡.wj, L. Habachi, “Aménophis

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According to R. Morkot, the reorganization of the Egyptian administration of Nubia took place sometime during the reign of Amenhotep II or Thutmose IV, i.e., quite closely upon the territorial occupation.168 The office of the governor incorporated military personnel and scribes, while a Deputy of the Viceroy took over functions on the executive ­level.169 The military rank of a Commander of Troops of Kush, ḥ rj-pḏ.t n Kš, a direct report of the Viceroy with close ties to the Residence (see below), was introduced during the late 18th Dynasty.170 At that time, the sphere of viceroyal control reached from Hierakonpolis in

III et Amenhotep, Fils de Hapou, à Athribis”, RdÉ 26 (1974), 30–33, pl. 2, and cf. Topozada, BIFAO 88 (1988), 156f. and 164. 168  Morkot, in: Empires, 235f., and Redford, From Slave to Pharaoh, 41–43. 169   For a general introduction see Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien, 175–195. See e.g. the inscriptions on the Island of Sehel left by subordinates of the Viceroy Usersatet: a Deputy of the King’s Son, jdnw nj z¡-nsw, a Charioteer of the King’s Son, kḏn nj s¡-nsw, and a Scribe of the King’s Son, sš nj s¡-nsw, L. Habachi, “The Graffiti and Work of the Viceroys of Kush in the Region of Aswan”, Kush 5 (1957), 13–36, and Gasse and Rondot, Nubia & Sudan 7 (2003), 43f.; cf. de Morgan et al., Catalogue, 91 No. 106, 92 No. 112, 100 No. 207. 170  In the 18th Dynasty, the rank is held by two individuals: Intef(?)nakht and Khaem­ waset. Intef(?)nakht left a rock inscription at Sehel, de Morgan et al., Catalogue, 102 No. 228bis; since the writing of the name is not absolutely clear, it cannot be excluded that the mentioned Troop-Commander of Kush is identical with another individual of the same rank, Onurisnakht (Jnj-Hr.t-nḫ t), from the reign of Ramesses II, Graffiti on Sehel, KRI III, 116:3, 5, 7, KRITA Translations 80, and L. Habachi, “The owner of Tomb No. 282 in the Theban Necropolis”, JEA 54 (1968), 109 figs. 2a–2c, and KRI III 250:4–5, KRITA Translations 178, and Habachi, loc. cit., 110, fig. 3, pl. 17a, in the latter text he is mentioned together with his colleague, the Stablemaster of the Residence Amenemope. According to I. Pomorska’s analysis, Les flabellifères à la droite du roi en Égypte ancienne (Warsaw: 1987) 40f., the high palatine title of a Fan-Bearer to the Right of the King was held by Viceroys of Nubia from Thutmose IV onwards, whereas Troop Commanders of Kush did not make use of it before the 19th Dynasty: ibid., 41 with references to sources Nos. 72, 82 (Onurisnakht), 98 and 117. The court title appears, however, already in the late 18th Dynasty, i.e., in the titulary of a Troop Commander of Kush: Khaemwaset. A statue of his (Khartoum Museum No. 2690) was found in “Temple T” at Kawa, M.F.L. Macadam, The Temples of Kawa. Vol. I. The Inscriptions (Oxford and London: 1949), Text, xii and 3f. Inscription No. II; Plates, pl. 4. It originally showed Khaemwaset together with his wife, whose name is lost, if she is not identical with the donor of the statue (mentioned in the main dorsal inscription), Great One of the Harim of (king) Nebkheperure (Tutankhamun) Taemwadjsi. This royal harim was located at “Sehetepnetjeru”, i.e., Faras, as we know from the fragments of a sandstone basin (Khartoum Museum No. 4449) that belonged to the same lady. The basin, in contrast, was found in the sanctuary of the so-called Hathor Rock at Faras, J. Karkowski, Faras V. The Pharaonic Inscriptions from Faras (Warsaw: 1981), 89f. No. 8, pl. V. Taemwadjsi appears once more on a lintel from the same period, dedicated to the Viceroy of Nubia Hui, of whom she is said to be “his sister who makes his name live”, fragment of a lintel from the temple of Tutankhamun at Faras, now Khartoum Museum No. 3745, Karkowski, Faras V, 130f. No. 74, pl. XV.



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Upper Egypt down to the 4th cataract in Upper Nubia.171 An area of this size required a higher differentiation within the provincial government. The introduction of some new middle-ranking administrative positions seems to support this thesis. At that time, the Nubian province was divided into two zones, Lower (Wawat) and Upper Nubia (Kush),172 administratively reflected in the dual office of an jdnw nj W¡w¡.t, Deputy of Wawat, and an jdnw nj Kš, Deputy of Kush.173 While in the time of Amenhotep II, the incorporation of locals into the imperial administration was not always positively approved by the King’s House,174 later on, an Egyptianized Nubian elite became politically important and was integrated into the colonial networks. The key regions of the Nubian subprovinces, Wawat and Kush, were controlled by Nubian Princes, wr.w n.w W¡w¡.t/Mjʿm and wr.w n.w Kš. As revealed by their tombs and funerary equipments in Egyptian style, they maintained close relations with the Egyptian elite and the court.175 There  According to two inscriptions in the Theban tomb of Huy, TT 40, broad hall, east wall, north side, N. de Garis Davies, The Tomb of Huy, Viceroy of Nubia in the Reign of Tutʿankhamun (No. 40) (London: The Theban Tomb Series 4, 1926), 10–11, pl. VI, cf. D. Valbelle, “Formes et expressions de l’État Égyptien en Nubie au Nouvel Empire”, in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence internationale des études nubiennes Lille 11–17 Septembre 1994. Part 1. Communications principales (Lille: CRIPEL 17, 1995), 169. 172  Wawat consisted of three key regions, Kush of up to six, see Spalinger, War in Ancient Egypt, 63. 173  Morkot, in: Empires, 235f. Cf. also representations of provincial administrators in the tomb of Huy under Tutankhamun, TT 40, broad hall, east wall, south side, de Garis Davies, The Tomb of Huy, 16f., pls. XIII (upper register) and XXXIX.6. 174  Stela Boston MFA 25.632, ll. 9–14 (Urk. IV, 1344:10–20), and see above n. 160. During the 2nd Intermediate Period and the early 18th Dynasty Fortress Commanders in Nubia called themselves “officials, magistrates”, sr.w, see Redford, From Slaves to Pharaoh, 40 with further bibliography. The term used by Amenhotep II in his letter to Usersatet reproduced on the stela, may intentionally be chosen to allude to this specific socio-cultural context of the term and its political implications from the Egyptian prospective. For this section of the inscription and its interpretation see S. Morschauser, “Approbation or Disapproval? The Conclusion of the Letter of Amenophis II to User-Satet, Viceroy of Kush (Urk. IV, 1344.10–20)”, SAK 24 (1997), 203–222, who, however, reads wr, “chief ”, instead of sr, ibid., 210f. 175   For iconographical evidence see a depiction of the children of Nubian Princes in the tomb of Huy, TT 40, broad hall, west wall, south side, De Garis Davies, Tomb of Huy, pls. XXIII, XXVII–XXVIII, or the representation of a Nubian Royal Fanbearer, Mayherpery, with black flesh tones on his funerary papyrus, pCairo CGC 24095, Hauptwerke im Ägyptischen Museum, No. 142 fig. 142c. For decorated tombs of Nubian Princes see E.S. Cohen, Egyptianization and the Acculturation Hypothesis: An Investigation of the Pan-Grave, Kerma and C-Group Material Cultures in Egypt and the Sudan during the Second Intermediate Period and Eighteenth Dynasty (Ann Arbor: 1993), 130–155, and in more general terms, T. Säve-Söderbergh, “The Cultural and Sociopolitical Structure of a Nubian Princedom in Tuthmoside Times”, in: Egypt 171

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must have indeed been a large number of ­acculturated natives who entered the Egyptian administration over time. After having become part of the Egyptian elite, they kept very often an Egyptian name and cannot be distinguished from native Egyptians by ethnical markers in the historical records.176 As an example, the Deputy of Wawat Penniut, who left his tomb at Aniba in the reign of Ramesses VI, was of Nubian origin.177 From the perspective of the Residence, the most important aspect of the viceroyal administration was economical in nature: biographical inscriptions and tomb decorations refer to the exploitation of natural resources, especially the quarrying of gold in Lower Nubia, and the delivery of exotic goods and animals.178 The Treasury maintained close relations with the provincial administration, and it was its highest authority, the Director of the Treasury, who played an important role during the installation ceremonies of the Viceroy at the Residence, following from a scene in the tomb of Amenhotep/Huy, s¡-nsw n Kš under Tutankhamun. Huy is depicted receiving the paraphernalia of his office, a wound-up sash or belt and the official golden seal of viceroyalty (ḫ tm nj j¡w.t s¡-nsw).179 The tomb walls also show the collection of taxes and tribute and their transportation to Thebes, where they are turned over to the central institutions.180 Besides the two Deputies, further members of Huy’s administrative staff—his personal scribe, a Scribe of Gold Accounts, sš ḥ sb nbw, and a Com-

and Africa, 186–194; Valbelle, in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence, 1. Communications principales, 170, and Fitzenreiter, Der Antike Sudan 15 (2004), 180–183 with further bibliographical references. 176   Cf. the theoretical approach to the problem by T. Schneider, “Akkulturation— Identität—Elitekultur. Eine Positionsbestimmung zur Frage der Existenz und des Status von Ausländern in der Elite des Neuen Reiches”, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 201–216, esp. 209, 211–212. 177   Fitzenreiter, Der Antike Sudan 15 (2004), 169–193, and see again below. 178  See e.g. the rock inscription by Amenemnekhu/Inebny of year 20 of Thutmose III at Tombos, ll. 6–8, above n. 162; the list of Nubian commodities in the shrine of Usersatjet at Qasr Ibrim (shrine No. 4, south wall), Urk. IV, 1345:1–15, and R.A. Caminos, The Shrines and Rock Inscriptions of Ibrîm (London: ASE 32, 1968), 65–71, pls. 28–32, or the depiction of gold and foreign goods and animals in the tomb of Huy, TT 40, broad hall, east wall, south side, de Garis Davies, Tomb of Huy, 19, 21–28, pls. XVI–XVII, XXIII–XXX. Cf. the general approach by R.G. Morkot, “Nubia in the New Kingdom: The Limits of Egyptain Control”, in: Egypt and Africa, 294–301. 179   de Garis Davies, Tomb of Huy, 10f., pls. V–VI. 180   Valbelle, in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence, 1. Communications principales, 169.



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mander of ­the Naval Contingent, ḥ rj-ẖny.t nj s¡-nsw–were at his personal disposal. Also involved in the collection of gold were two Stablemasters, perhaps the two sons of Huy, who are mentioned with this rank in other inscriptions of the tomb. Under the authority of the Viceroy were also a Director of Cattle and Deputies respectively Mayors, ḥ ¡.tj.w-ʿ.w, of Nubian towns and forts.181 This suggests that the forts had become more or less civic centers, endowed with temples, some of which were quite large. As the forts controled the flow of precious resources and products to Egypt or were located at important trade routes, a fortified enclosure wall guaranteed safe storage.182 Between the two Deputies of Nubia, the one controlling Wawat must have occupied the economically more important position, as most gold mining took place in the Eastern Desert. This seems to be confirmed by the titularies of the Deputies. While Deputies of Kush rarely mention additional functions, some of their counterparts in Wawat could be also distinguished as a Commander-in-Chief of the royal army in Nubia,183 a sš pr-ḥ ḏ, Scribe of the Treasury184 being responsible for the accounting of gold in Nubia,185 or as a Mayor of Aniba (Miam).186 A Deputy of Wawat maintained, like his superior, direct business relations with the Royal Treasury. This can be followed from a wall scene in the tomb of Penniut at Aniba, where the Viceroy honors his subordinate together with the Director of the Treasury.187 If the jdnw n W¡w¡.t Hornakht from

181   de Garis Davies, Tomb of Huy, 17–20, pls. XIII–XVIII. Cf. also J.K. Hoffmeier, “Aspects of Egyptian Foreign Policy in the 18th Dynasty in Western Asia and Nubia”, in: Egypt, Israel and the Ancient Mediterranean World. Studies in Honor of Donald. B. Redford, G.N. Knoppers and A. Hirsch eds. (Leiden: Probleme der Ägyptologie 20, 2004), 126f. 182  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 810–812. 183  Graffito of Mery at Abu Simbel from the time of Sety II, KRI IV, 282:11, KRITA Translations IV, 202: jrj.n sš pr-ḥ ḏ jmj-r¡ mšʿ nj nb-t¡.wj m T¡-stj jdnw Mry n W¡w¡.t, “made by the Scribe of the Treasury, the Army-Commander of the Lord of the Two Lands in Nubia, the Deputy of Wawat Mery”. 184  Rock inscription of Hornakht at Abu Simbel from the time of Ramesses II, showing the title sequence: sš sḥ nw n mšʿ sš pr-ḥ ḏ ḥ sb nbw n nb-t¡.wj m T¡-stj ḥ ¡.tjʿ n Mjʿm jdnw n W¡w¡.t, “Scribe of Commands of the Army, Scribe of the Treasury, who reckons the gold for the Lord of the Two Lands in Nubia, Mayor of Miam and Deputy of Wawat”, KRI III, 118:13–14, KRITA Translations III, 81, and Mery’s graffito in loco, see n. 183. 185  See again the rock inscription left by Hornacht at Abu Simbel, n. 184. 186  Again Hornacht, see n. 184. 187  G. Steindorff, Aniba, vol. 2 (Glückstadt, Hamburg, New York: 1937), pl. 102, cf. also Fitzenreiter, Der Antike Sudan 15 (2004), 178.

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the time of Ramesses II known from a rock inscription at Abu ­Simbel188 is the same person as the jdnw n Kš mentioned on door jambs at various Nubian sites,189 we may conclude that either both offices could occasionally be held by one person or a Deputy of Kush could move up to the higher position of a Deputy of Wawat. Troop Commanders of Kush were often distinguished as members of the royal court by the title of a Fan-Bearer to the Right of the King, ṯ¡jḫ w ḥ r wnmj-nsw.190 An entry in pBibliothèque Nationale 211, a timber account referring to institutions and houses at Memphis from the time of Sety I, suggests that they dwelled, at least partly, at the capital, since it mentions among others the “house of Khay, Troop-Commander of Kush”.191 The Turin Judicial Papyrus, which gives insight into the legal proceedings against members of the court who had planned to commit regicide, bears indirect witness to this practice during the early 20th Dynasty, as one of the convicted from the royal entourage was a Troop Commander of Kush.192 When Troop Commanders of Kush acted as official executives abroad, they were granted, like the Viceroys of Kush, the title of an Overseer of the Southern Countries, jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt rsj.wt.193 This mandate oscillated between logistical, military and  See n. 184.  Door-jamb from Amara-West, now Khartum Museum 2-R-A/2, KRI III, 117:9, KRITA Translations III, 80; door-jamb from Abri, now Khartum Museum 14412, KRI III, 117:12, KRITA Translations III, 80, and door-jamb from Sai, now Khartum Museum 446, KRI III, 117:14, KRITA Translations III, 81, see also A. Fouquet, “Deux hauts fonctionnaires du Nouvel Empire en Haute-Nubie”, CRIPEL 3 (1975), 133–136, Doc. 6–8, fig. 5. 190  Pomorska, Les flabellifères, 41 with references to sources Nos. 72, 82, 98 and 117. 191   pBN 210 rto. Fragment B vso. l. 4, KRI I, 272:12, and KRITA Translations I, 225, and KRITA Notes and Comments I, 181 (b), and see also above the section “Naval administration”. 192   For reasons of ostracism, the papyrus does not render the proper name of the Commander, but echoes it in a distorted way as Bjn-m-W¡s.t, “The Bad One at Thebes”, probably referring to Ḫ ʿ-m-W¡s.t, “The One Who Appeared at Thebes”, Turin Judicial Papyrus 5,3, KRI V, 357:5–10, KRITA Translations V, 300. For the pejorative renaming see G. Posener, “Les criminels débaptisés et les morts sans noms”, RdE 5 (1946), 51–56. Cf. aussi Vernus, Affaires, 153–156, et Y. Koenig, “À propos de la conspiration du harem”, BIFAO 101 (2001), 300f. “Binemwaset” got involved in the conspiracy at the instigation of his sister, a member of the royal harim. 193   For instance, documented for Pyay, an associate of the famous Bay from the time of Siptah/Tausret, graffito in the hall of the temple of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel, KRI IV, 366:13–14, KRITA Translations IV, 265, or for Nebmaatranakht from the reign of Ramesses VI, graffito at the temple of Amenhotep III at Kawa, KRI VI, 358:4–6, M.F.L. Macadam, The Temples of Kawa, vol. 1 (London: 1949), 84–86, pls. XXIV–XXVII. According to W.J. Murnane, “Overseer of the Northern Foreign Countries”: Reflections on the Upper Administration of Egypt’s Empire in Western Asia, 188 189



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administrative tasks at the border or abroad, distinguishing members of the provincial government who were in charge of tax and tribute collection. The Golénischeff Onomasticon seems to confirm this, as it lists the hybrid form jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt n.w Ḫ ¡rw Kš, Overseer of Foreign Countries of the Levant and of Kush,194 after the title combination jdnw jmj-r¡ ḫ tm.w n.w p W¡ḏ-wr, Deputy and Commander of the fortresses of the Sea, and those of tax retrieving personnel such as Register Scribe, sš sḥ wj, Overseer of Entrances to the Rearland”, jmj-r¡ ḥ ¡.wy n.w pḥ w.w, or Chief of Impressment in the Entire Country, ʿ¡ nj št n t¡ -ḏr=f.195 Some Troop Commanders of Kush were also sent on specific missions as Royal Messengers, wp.wtj.w-nsw.196 The Abydos Decree of Sety I at Nauri, a rock formation north of the Third Nile Cataract in Nubia, suggests that the imperial administration of Nubia intervened on its own terms in transactions and other kinds of economic procedures related to state institutions: Composed to the benefit of personnel and property of the King’s Mansion of Millions of Years at Abydos, the firman was principally directed against representatives of the Nubian viceroyalty, among them no less than the Viceroy himself, any Troop Commander, and other high military personnel related to them such as Fortress Commanders, Charioteers, Stablemasters, Standard-Bearers, and lower ranks.197 Among the provincial cadres, an uncommon rank is mentioned: Head of Nubians (of the land of Kush), ḥ rj nḥ sy.w (n p¡ t¡ nj Kš).198 As the term nḥ sy.w is

in: Essays on Ancient Egypt in Honour of Herman te Velde, J. van Dijk ed. (Groningen: Egyptological Memoires 1, 1997), the title expresses a more generic military responsibility most often assigned to the Viceroy of Kush. 194   Cf. the title jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt n.w Ḫ ¡rw, Overseer of the Foreign Countries of the Levant born by the Chief of the Police and Royal Charioteer Penre under Ramesses II, funerary cone, KRI III, 270:9, KRITA Translations III, 192, and N. de Garis Davies— M.F.L. MacAdam, A Corpus of Inscribed Egyptian Funerary Cones (Oxford: 1957), No. 524; E. Hirsch, “Die Beziehungen der ägyptischen Residenz im Neuen Reich zu den vorderasiatischen Vasallen. Die Vorsteher der nördlichen Fremdländer und ihre Stellung bei Hofe”, in: Der ägyptische Hof des Neuen Reiches. Seine Gesellschaft und Kultur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Außenpolitik. Akten des Internationalen Kolloquiums vom 27.–29. Mai 2002 an der Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz, R. Gundlach and A. Klug eds. (Wiesbaden: KSG 2, 2006), 141f. with fig. 11. 195  A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, vol. 1. Text (Oxford: 1947), 33*f. 196  Nakhtmin, a Troop Commander of Kush under Ramesses II, is called Royal Messenger to Every Foreign Country in a graffito at Aswan, KRI III, 115:10, KRITA Translations III, 79; Habachi, JEA 54 (1968), 112 fig. 4. 197   KRI I, 45:6–58:15; KRITA Translations I, 38–50, and KRITA Notes and Com­ ments I, 48–55 with bibliography. 198  L. 36 and l. 88 of the inscription.

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written with the determinatives of people and of foreign land, the title does not refer to a military unit consisting of Nubian mercenaries, but to Nubian ethnicity and, therefore, designates Nubian Princes actively involved in the imperial government (see above). Sources show that the integration of Nubia as part of the Egyptian state during the New Kingdom was based on a continuous and tight administrative system with its own hierarchy and strong ties to the Palace. As the provincial government in Nubia was based on military control, the viceroyalty always maintained close relations to the army. At the same time, due to Egypt’s economic interests in Nubia, it was administratively affiliated to royal departments such as the Offices of the Treasury, of the Granary, and of Cattle. Foreign Administration and the Military in Asia Political and economic control of Egypt’s northern sphere of influence worked in different ways, except for the “Way of Horus”, the desert path leading from the fortress of Sile (ancient Tjaru) to Gaza (ancient Gadjati) in the Levant, as it was, in fact, Egyptian territory. Maintenance and control of the strongholds (nḫ tw, m-k-d-r)199 and secured wells or water reservoirs along this way might have been comparable to that of the forts in Nubia, allowing state institutions equally fast access. As E.D. Oren pointed out, this administrative and military network along the Sinai corridor was already established during the reign of Thutmose III, its sites equipped with defense systems, industrial and storage facilities serving as military, administrative, and economic centers and, thus, permanently providing safe and rapid movements of armies and messengers as well as smooth transport of goods.200 The excerpt of a border-journal preserved on pAnastasi III vso. from the reign of Merenptah suggests how transit on the Sinai corridor might

 Morris, The Architecture of Imperialism, 820 and 817–820.   The military network of the Way of Horus is, to a great extent, known from battle reliefs by Sety I at Karnak and from the topographical list of pAnastasi I; archaeological evidence confirms the textual references, see E.D. Oren, “The Establishment of Egyptian Imperial Administration on the ‘Ways of Horus’: An Archaeological Perspective from North Sinai”, in: Timelines. Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, E. Czerny ed., vol. 2 (Leuven, Paris, Dudley, MA: OLA 149/2, 2006), 279–293, and cf. G. Cavillier, “The Ancient Military Road Between Egypt and Palestine Reconsidered: A Reassessment”, GM 185 (2001), 23–33. 199 200



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have worked.201 The journal recorded passing messengers and military personnel on their way in and out of Egypt within a decade. The term ṯsj r Ḫ¡rw, “climbing up, mounting to the Levant”,202 used in the text for travellers heading north-east,203 implies that the route to the Levant meant crossing hill country, whereas the action of returning to Egypt is classified as “coming (back) (to the place) where One is (i.e., the King in the Royal Residence)”, jj r p¡ ntj tw.tw jm. In one instance, the verb spr, “reaching, arriving”, is linked with the location p¡ ḫ tmw ntj Ṯ¡rw, “the fortress of Sile” (see also below).204 The entry applies to a group of Troop Commanders descending from royal wells in hill land towards the fortress of Sile in order to investigate in a matter of unknown concern. Although opinions diverge, it seems likely that the fortified bordertown of Sile was the place where the observations took place and where transit records were carried out and filed before important informations were sent to the Residence in Egypt.205 This hypothesis is confirmed by dispatches of this kind sent from the fortress of Semna, the southern-most stronghold of Egypt’s Nubian territories during the late 12th Dynasty.206 Although they date to the Middle Kingdom and relate the movements of mḏ¡y.w in the desert, they show that meticulous recording of events, sometimes even including the time of the day, at and near fortresses was a constant procedure by the military administration of Ancient Egypt.207 The New Kingdom border ­journal

201   pAnastasi III vso. 6,1–5,9, Gardiner, LEM, 31:4–32:7 (for the sequence of the text lines see Gardiner’s comment on p. 31); Caminos, LEM, 108–113. 202  At the end of the last, incomplete entry, pAnastasi III vso. 5,8–9, which uses again ṯsj, the text breaks off abruptly without rendering the purpose of transit and its destination. 203   Cf. already Caminos, LEM, 109. 204   pAnastasi III vso. 6,4–5. 205   This was already suggested by R.A. Caminos, “Grenztagebuch”, in: Lexikon der Ägyptologie vol. II, 898. Cf., however, Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 480, who argues for a localization in one of the fortresses along the Way of Horus, since, otherwise, the fort of Sile would not be mentioned. 206   The fort is mentioned in the texts (pBM EA 10752 and 10771), Despatch No. I ll. 7, 12, and No. VI l. 9, P.C. Smither, “The Semnah Despatches”, JEA 31 (1945), 3–10. 207  Intelligence information was collected and recorded at Semna and later communicated to an administrative headquarter at Thebes, see S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom. The Hieratic Documents (New Malden: 1990), 191–193, and R.B. Parkinson, Voices from Ancient Egypt. An Anthology of Middle Kingdom Writings (Norman: 1991), 93. Small papyrus fragments of records similar to the dispatches from Semna were found at the fortress of Buhen, H.S. Smith, The Fortress of Buhen. The Inscriptions (London: Excavations at Buhen 2, 1976), 31, 34 Nos. 66 and 76, pls. LXIII and LXIIIA.

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from Sile lists all the border transits within the given period of ten days, recording the exact date, the persons involved by title and name, the destination of the border crossers and the purpose of their mission. Beside one case of perhaps legal investigation (smtr) at the fortress of Sile already mentioned above,208 the most frequent reason for crossing the Egyptian border were errands between the Royal Residence and foreign princely courts or Egyptian administrative centers and garrisons. Within a decade, six messengers passed border clearance, most of whom bore the title of an ordinary Retainer, šmsw + place name, supplemented by the name of the institution or foreign city where they came from.209 According to their names or those of their fathers, they were of foreign descent. As native speakers of West-Semitic language and well acquainted with the topography of Canaan, they were the perfect couriers in the imperial communication network. Also, an Egyptian military officer stationed at a Syro-Palestinian royal settlement appears as an envoy of dispatches sent to the Royal Court by a Garrison-Commander and a Deputy of the mentioned town, the two highest authorities of the place and, thus, his superiors.210 The last entry relates to a Chariotreer of the Great Stable of Merenptah at the Residence “going up ”. While no further details are given regarding the offices at the Residence where the dispatches were delivered, both the recipients as well as the senders of dispatches and, in one case, even “tribute” or gifts,211 were listed accurately with title and name. Sile, modern Tell Heboua, was located on a narrow strip of land that marked the Mediterranean coastline during the 2nd millennium BC. In its surroundings, the ancient Pelusiac Nile arm opened into a large lagoon or the open sea, in the near of which supposedly another fortress, ḫ tm p¡ W¡ḏ-wr, was located.212 During the New Kingdom, Sile consisted of a fortified structure surrounded by satellite settlements and cemeteries.213 As early as the reign of Thutmose III, the

  pAnastasi III vso. 6,4–5.   pAnastasi III vso. 6,1; 6,6; 5,1. 210   Cf. however the translation by Caminos, LEM, 109, where he suggests that the letters were sent to the two mentioned title holders and not by them. 211   pAnastasi III vso. 6,9. 212  Oren, in: Timelines II, 281 with further bibliography. For the Fortress of The Great Green (Sea), see Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 710, 804. 213  On the cemeteries of the 18th–19th Dynasties see J. Dorner, “Vorbericht über die Grabungskampagnen 1993–94 auf Tell Hebwa IV-Süd am Nordsinai”, Ä&L 6 208 209



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fort was enclosed by a massive defense system and included huge granaries and magazines as well as buildings of some size that might have served administrative purposes.214 The term used for the Fortress of Sile is always ḫ tm, not mnnw. According to E.F. Morris, ḫ tm denotes border and sealing forts “installed at locations at which entrance to the Nile Valley could be effectively controlled and monitored”, while mnnw applied to fortress-towns with a denser population, following the model of an Egyptian town (see above). They are known from Nubia, but also along the Mediterranean coast, where they formed a protective network against Libyans and Sea People.215 Egyptian forts are not known from Western Asia. There was no need for them, as representatives and troops of the imperial government were stationed at subdued or allied Levantine towns and cities, which had their own defense systems and administrative quarters. Only in regions without preexisting infrastructure royal settlements (dmj.wt) were founded. The border diary of pAnastasi III, which lists a Stable-Master of the Settlement of Merenptah situated “in the district of (the Prince?) PaIrem”, an unidentified location in Syria-Palestine, from where letters were expediated to Egypt by local authorities, one of whom was a Garrison-Commander (see above),216 shows that these sites were, in fact, Egyptian garrisons. Living and serving at the Fortress of Sile was considered especially hard, as we learn from the Decree of Haremhab (see also the section “Abuse of military authority”), in which the king takes actions against the abuse of power and the unlawful confiscation of private property, as punishment inflicted on lower representatives of the administration or the army included physical mutilation, i.e., the cutting off of the nose, and banishment to Sile.217 It remains unclear whether ­delinquents

(1996), 167–177; D.A. Aston, “Tell Hebwa IV—Preliminary Report on the Pottery”, Ä&L 6 (1996), 179–197; and J. Dorner and D. Aston, “Pottery from Hebwa IV/South. Preliminary Report”, CCÉ 5 (1997), 41–45. 214  M. Abd el-Maksoud, Tell Heboua (1981)–1991). Enquête archéologique sur la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire et le Nouvel Empire à l’extrémité orientale du Delta (Paris: 1998), 36f., 45–48, 128f. figs. 1–2. On the epigraphic evidence from the site, the earliest of which dates to the beginning of the 12th Dynasty, see M. Abd el-Maksoud and D. Valbelle, “Tell Héboua-Tjarou. L’apport de l’épigraphie”, RdÉ 56 (2005), 1–44. 215  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 804–814. 216   pAnastasi III vso. 5,4–5,7. Cf. Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 826. 217  Ll. 13–23 (§§1–3), Urk. IV, 2143:15–2147:15, and Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb, 28–79.

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were imprisoned and condemned to hard labor at Sile or sent there to serve in military service, as proposed by J.-M. Kruchten.218 Beyond the Way of Horus, Egyptian territories in Western Asia were not “owned” by the state, as Nubia was to a certain degree, for at least two reasons: The countryside was much less easily accessible. Also, from a political point of view, the Levant was fragmented into numerous kingdoms, principalities, and city-states with their own political rulership, densely populated areas, a high degree of social stratification and a well-functioning infrastructure. To try to impose on them a “colonial” model of political control similar to the vizeroyalty of Kush, was never a realistic option and would have been counterproductive. In fact, it was much more feasible to profit from preexisting political and social systems. After a long history of strife for domination, submission and alliances in this part of the Ancient Near East, the Egyptian administration relied heavily on a network of loyal vassal kinglets and city-states. Their princes and governors maintained close contacts to the Residence in Egypt,219 some of them were even raised and educated at Pharaoh’s Court or, in some cases, kept at the Residence as hostages.220 In this respect, the most important sources are the Amarna correspondence and the diplomatic exchange between the Hittite king and Ramesses II.221 The Amarna letters show that vassals, who had taken an oath of allegiance with Egypt, were 218   Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb, 79, refers to a tomb robbery papyrus, pBM 10053 vso. 2,18 (KRI VI, 758:7–8.), where a defendant declares in an oath that he may be sent to the “garrison of Kush”, if he later withdrew his confession. 219   Cf. W.J. Murnane, “Imperial Egypt and the Limits of Power”, in: Amarna Diplo­ macy. The Beginnings of International Relations, R. Cohen and R. Westbrook eds. (Baltimore and London: 2000), 101–111; C.R. Higginbotham, Egyptianization and Elite Emulation in Ramesside Palestine. Governance and Acommodation on the Imperial Periphery (Leiden, Boston, Köln: Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 2, 2000), 136–142; R. Gundlach, C. Raedler and S. Roth, “Der ägyptische Hof im Kontakt mit seinen vorderasiatischen Nachbarn. Gesandte und Gesandtschaftswesen in der Zeit Ramses’ II.”, in: Prozesse des Wandels in historischen Spannungsfeldern Nordostafrikas/Westasiens. Akten zum 2. Symposium des SFB 295 Mainz 15.10.–17.10.2001 (Würzburg: 2005), 39–67; S. Roth, “Internationale Diplomatie am Hof Ramses’ II.”, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 92–97; Hoffmeier, in: Egypt, Israel, and the Ancient Mediterranean World, 126–128, and Murnane, in: Essays on Ancient Egypt, 252. 220   J.P. Cowie, “Guaranteeing the Pax Aegyptiaca? Reassessing the Role of Elite Offspring as Wards and Hostages within the New Kingdom Egyptian Empire in the Levant”, BACE 19 (2008), 17–28. 221  Translations of the correspondences: The Amarna Letters, W.L. Moran ed. (Baltimore, London, 1992); Die ägyptisch-hethitische Korrespondenz aus Boghazköi in babylonischer und hethitischer Sprache, E. Edel ed. (Opladen: Abhandlungen der Rheinisch-westfälischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 77, 1994).



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expected to ­support their overlord’s foreign policy vis-à-vis neighboring states and observe his economic interests. In exchange, when the King’s House deemed it proper, Egyptian forces intervened in order to keep local conflicts low, but also to avert expansionistic efforts by other Great Powers of the Near East.222 In Akkadian, the vassals are called “mayors”, hazannu, while their dialogue partners appear as rabiṣu, “commissioners”, or rabû, “Great Men”, surrogates for a whole range of bureaucratic and military functions and ranks according to Egyptian terminology.223 In fact, a network of middle class military (jmj-r¡ jwʿy.t, ḥ rj-pḏ.t, ḥ rj-jḥ w) and administrative (jdnw) personnel was established abroad, accompanied by subordinates and army units with residence at foreign political centers or Egyptian bases.224 A constant flow of couriers and messengers between Egypt, her bases abroad and foreign residencies was meant to guarantee good diplomatic relations with Egypt’s allies and to keep vassals on a short leash. According to M. Liverani, the letters exchanged with vassal states followed a seasonal pattern referring to the preparations of goods to be sent to Egypt in spring and their proper transfer in late summer.225 Mutual political commitments, at times reenforced by diplomatic marriages, and the exchange of luxury goods were part of the international traffic as was

222  W.J. Murnane, The Road to Kadesh. A Historical Interpretation of the Battle Reliefs of King Sety I at Karnak (Chicago: SAOC 42, 21990), 1–38; Murnane, in: Amarna Diplomacy, 101–111; A. James, “Egypt and Her Vassals: The Geopolitical Dimension”, in: Amarna Diplomacy, 112–124, and C. Zaccagnini, “The Interdependence of the Great Powers”, in: Amarna Diplomacy, 143f. In this context, a historizing text on a cuneiform tablet found at Ugarit (RS 20.33, the so-called “lettre du général”) is of interest, as it relates to an impending attack of the Egyptian army—probably headed by the king himself—from the perspective of a pro-Hittite Commander-in-Chief in Amurru, who writes this letter to his lord, S. Izreʾel and I. Singer, The General’s Letter from Ugarit. A Linguistic and Historical Reevaluation of RS 20.33 (Tel Aviv: Ugaritica V, 1990), 128–144, proposing a date of the text in the 14th century BCE (Amarna Period), followed by S. Lackenbacher, Textes akkadiens d’Ugarit. Textes provenant des vingt-cinq premières campagnes (Paris: Littératures Anciennes du Proche-Orient, 2002), 54, 66–69. In contrast, M. Dietrich, “Der Brief des Kommandeurs Šumiyanu an den ugaritischen König Niqmepa (RS 20.33). Ein Bericht über Aktivitäten nach der Schlacht bei Qadeš, 1275 v.Chr.”, UF 33 (2001), 118–183, argues in favor of a later date, i.e., the reign of Ramesses II. He is supported by J. Freu, Histoire politique du royaume d’Ugarit (Paris: Collection KUBABA Série Antiquité XI, 2006), 80–86. 223  See D.B. Redford, Egypt, Canaan, and Israel in Ancient Times (Princeton: 1992), 201. 224  Again Redford, Egypt, 201–207. 225  M. Liverani, “A Seasonal Pattern for the Amarna Letters”, in: Lingering over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran, T. Abusch, J. Huehnergard, and P. Steinkeller eds. (Atlanta: HSS 37, 1990), 337–348.

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the transport of trade goods, tribute or taxes, partly stored at the Egyptian headquarters abroad, or the transfer of traitors and delinquents.226 Besides diplomatic and trade expeditions, army and chariotry units were sent out and stationed at Egyptian garrisons, hosted by foreign governors or princes or by the Egyptian authorities of a royal foundation abroad. Caravansaries provided accommodations and facilities for imperial officials and traders on their journeys to and from Egypt.227 The Akkadian texts confirm that the diplomatic corps was multifaceted, ranging from ordinary runners delivering tablets and letters to Royal Ambassadors (wp.wtj.w-nsw) sent out on missions of high political impact. The latter often qualified as Officers of the Chariotry and Commanders of Bowmen Troops,228 but could also be high courtiers and officials, who had become involved in the correspondences between vassal states and the King’s House, receiving and commissioning diplomatic letters in the place of the king. Such a person was Huy: He acted as a Royal Ambassador for Ramesses II and was in charge of negotiating the contract terms of a diplomatic marriage, the so-called First Hittite Marriage, between the Hittite and the Egyptian court and, after the pact was settled, of escorting the foreign princess safe and sound to the Egyptian border.229 It seems that the same Huy communicated with other foreign allies such as the city-state of Ugarit. One of Ugarit’s governors, Takuhlina, whose earlier career had led him to Karkemish and, later on, to the Hittite Court at Hattusha, sent a letter to “the Great One Haya”, concerning a transaction of wheat. The cuneiform tablet was found at Aphek, where a fortified structure was identified as an Egyptian residency with an adjacing caravansary,230 226  Murnane, in: Amarna Diplomacy, 104; N. Mekawi, “Die Boten der AmarnaBriefe. Terminologie, Qualifikationen und Aufgabe”, in: The Realm of the Pharaohs. Essays in Honor of Tohfa Handoussa, vol. 1, Z.A. Hawass, Kh.A. Daoud and S.Abd El-Fattah eds. (Cairo: ASAE Supplément 37, 2008), 339–345. 227   This institution was identified by M. Kochavi at Aphek, situated on the strategic highway of the Via Maris between Egypt and Hatti, M. Kochavi, “The History and Archaeology of Aphek-Antipatris”, BA 44.2 (1981), 77–80, and cf. Morris, Architec­ ture of Imperialism, 577f. with n. 654. 228  Mekawi, in: The Realm of the Pharaohs, 333–342. 229   Cf. Habachi, Kush 9 (1961), 216–225, figs. 4–5, pls. XXVIII–XXIX; Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 74–79, and Raedler, in: Militärgeschichte des Pharaonischen Ägypten, 329–333. 230  D.I. Owen, “An Akkadian Letter from Ugarit at Tel Aphek”, Tel Aviv 8 (1981), 1–17; I. Singer, “Takuhlinu and Haya: Two Governors in the Ugarit Letter from Tel Aphek”, Tel Aviv 10 (1983), 3–25, and cf. Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 577. Cf., in contrast, Higginbotham, Egyptianization, 289f., who takes the structures at Aphek



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implying that Haya/Huy must have temporarily resided at the mentioned Egyptian headquarter. According to Y. Goren et al., Aphek was annexed to the territory of Jaffa, which was under Egyptian control in the 13th century B.C.E., and provided a command center, from where the international road could be supervised. Other texts found at the site suggest that the base also served as a control post for messengers and transportation of merchandise.231 After a long career in the army as a senior commander (Huy was Troop-Commander and Marshal, Lieutnant-Commander of the Chariotry and Troop-Commander of Sile) and as a successful diplomat interacting with northern kingdoms and city-states, he finally took over the highest rank of Egypt’s imperial administration, that of Viceroy of Kush. Life abroad could have different faces according to function and rank. In one of the texts assembled on pBologna 1094, a Royal Scribe and Intendant from Memphis is asked to take care of an ordinary stablemaster, an employee of his, who had just returned from the Levant after a five years term of active service as a Chariot Shield-Bearer.232 To avoid the stablemaster being drafted a second time for deployment abroad, it is proposed to send his younger brother instead. From the letter, it can also be gathered that men levied as grooms (mʿ-ry-rwj¡)233 and sent to foreign countries were branded.234 The procedure may imply that desertion abroad was not uncommon.235 Many inscriptions provide evidence for the assignment of high officials and, in particular, officers, mostly of the chariotry, as Royal not as a governor’s residence, but as administrative building. For the archaeological evidence of residential architecture at Aphek see above n. 227. 231  Y. Goren et al., “Provenance Study and Re-Evaluation of the Cuneiform Documents from the Egyptian Residency at Tel Aphek”, Ä&L 16 (2006), 161–171. 232  In pAnastasi V 13,6–7, the author of a letter speaks about “turning” his son, who was “travelling to the Levant, Ḫ ¡rw, over to the fortress, ḫ tm”, which might have been the fortress of Tjaru, “until his companions return to Egypt after six years”, meaning that 5–6 years of deployment abroad was probably a common practice in Ramesside times, Gardiner, LEM, 63; Caminos, LEM, 242f. The verb pnʿ r, “to turn over to, to reverse to”, may imply that the writer’s son had intended to go to the Levant along with his companions, but that his father had spoiled this plan by letting him being stationed at the frontier fortress. 233  On this Semitic loan-word see Hoch, Semitic Words, 132–134 No. 173. 234   pBologna 9,1–9,6 (Gardiner, LEM, 8:9–9:1, and Caminos, LEM, 24–26), cf. also Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Ägyptische Militärgeschichte, 282. 235   Cf. the negative picture of a soldier’s life elaborated in the so-called Satire of Trades, S. Jäger, Altägyptische Berufstypologien (Göttingen: LingAeg Studia monographica 4, 2004), 258–293, and Gnirs and Loprieno, in: Militärische Kriegsgeschichte, 289–298.

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Ambassadors to Western Asia236 or bear witness to residencies or administrative headquarters occupied by Egyptian title holders. From the time of Ramesses III, a Stablemaster of the Residence and Troop Commander(?), Djehutimose, left a model pen case at Megiddo, where he might have been accomodated as a Royal Envoy.237 He is perhaps identical with the Royal Fan-Bearer, Troop-Commander and Director of Foreign Countries Djehutimose, father of the Army-Commander and Superintendant Ramesses-user-khepesh, who must have resided at Beth Shan according to a decorated limestone door frame commissioned in his name. The frame was part of an impressive building erected in the neighborhood of the local temple, bearing similarities to Egyptian residential architecture.238 Beth Shan was not the only Asian city that served as an Egyptian headquarter secured by a military presence. Archaeological and textual evidence shows that also Deir el-Balah, Tell el-Ajjul, Gaza, Ashdod, Tel Mor and Jaffa along the Mediterranean coast had their own Egyptian bases in the late 18th and 19th Dynasties as well as Tell el-Farʾah, Tel Seraʾ, Gezer or Aphek in the Syro-Palestinian backland.239 Among the coastal sites, some could be considered twin towns: while one site was located at the Via Maris proper serving as a gate to land routes, its counterpart provided

  Cf. M. Valloggia, Recherche sur les “messagers” (wpwtyw) dans les sources égyp­ tiennes profanes (Geneva/Paris: Centre de Recherches d’Histoire et de Philologie de la IVe Section de l’École Pratique des Hautes Études II. Hautes Études Orientales 6, 1976), 239–271, esp. 265–268; H. El-Saady, “The External Royal Envoys of the Ramessides: A Study on the Egyptian Diplomats”, MDAIK 55 (1999), 411–425, and Gundlach, Raedler and Roth, in: Prozesse des Wandels, 39–67. 237   The rank of Troop-Commander is not completely preserved on the pen case. Like the military titles, wp.wtj-nsw is part of the inscription, G. Loud, The Megiddo Ivories (Chicago: OIP 52, 1939), 11f., No. 377, pl. 62, and W.A. Ward, “The Egyptian Inscriptions of Level VI”, in: F.W. James, The Iron Age at Beth Shan. A Study of Levels VI–IV (Phaladelphia: 1966), 175. 238  A. Mazar, “The Egyptian Garrison Town at Beth-Shean”, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 167–168, 171–172; cf. Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 755–758; Ward, in: The Iron Age at Beth Shan, 172–176, and Higginbotham, Egyptianization, 64f. According to Higginbotham, op. cit., 132–142, Egyptianizing architecture could, but must not per se be interpreted as truly Egyptian in origin, as Egyptian life-style was generally emulated by the Syro-Palestinian elites during the Late Bronze Age. 239  E. Oren, “ ‘Governor’s Residencies’ in Canaan under the New Kingdom: A Case Study of Egyptian Administration”, JSSEA 14 (1984), 37–56, and again Morris, Archi­ tecture of Imperialism, fig. 29 on pp. 397 and 514–583. Higginbotham, Egyptianiza­ tion, 263–290, does not use the term governor’s residence at all, but distinguishes different types of “Egyptian-style architecture”: center hall houses, three room houses, and administrative buildings (beside temples on pp. 290–301). 236



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a harbor with access to the open sea.240 D.I. Owen speaks of a chain of Egyptian strongholds that ran along the Via Maris from Gaza to Beth Shan.241 How during military expansionism, foreign city-states were changed into Egyptian headquarters may be gathered from the biography of Intef, a First Royal Herald under Thutmose III. According to his war records, Intef was in charge of the appropriation of rulers’ residencies and their adaptation to Egyptian living and purification standards:242 Each palace (ʿḥ) on the back of a foreign country was ins[pected](jp.w) [. . .].243 I travelled at the head of the army, as the first of the troops. My Lord came to me in peace. I prepared them (i.e., the palaces for the arrival of the king) and provided them with everything desirable from the foreign land, making more beautiful than the palaces of Egypt (ʿḥ n.w Km.t) by purifying (swʿb), [clea]ning (twrj) and rendering impenetrable (sšt¡w) and holy (sḏsr) their quarters (ḥw.wt=sn) and each room (ʿ.t) according to its purpose (r jrj.w=s). I made the heart of the King happy about [everything], that was done [. . . . . . . . .], calculating the tribute (jn.w) of the rulers from every foreign country (consisting) of silver, gold, olive oil, incense, and wine.

Intef was entrusted with the preparation of adequate living conditions for the king as long as he resided in conquered land.244 It is probable that these palaces later on served as centers of the imperial administration. If they were, however, truly Egyptian property is another question. Amarna letter EA 292 (ll. 29–38), e.g. confirms the presence of an Egyptian administrator and his troops in the city of Gezer, but, at the same time, stresses that the residency was, in fact, property of the local ruler and that only due to the latter’s goodwill the Egyptians were comfortably accommodated there.245

240  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 577f., referring to Aphek and Jaffa on the one hand, and Ashdod and Tel Mor on the other. 241  Owen, Tel Aviv 8 (1981), 12. 242  Stela Louvre C 26 from TT 155, ll. 25–27, Urk. IV, 975:2–11, and cf. the translation by Redford, The Wars in Syria, 180f.; cf. E. Pardey, “Der sog. Sprecher des Königs in der 1. Hälfte der 18. Dynastie”, in: Essays in Honour of Prof. Dr. Jadwiga Lipinska (Warsaw: Egyptological Studies I 1997), 377–397, esp. 387–389. On his professional biography see also Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 300–302. 243  Redford, The Wars in Syria, 180f., translates “was assessed for [supplies]”. 244   Cf. Gnirs, in: Egyptian Royal Residences, 34f. 245   The Amarna Letters, 335f., and Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 563.

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Those who served or had served the imperial administration abroad on a more permanent basis and as executives with direct access to economic and military resources of the vassal states were often distinguished as Director of (Northern) Foreign Countries, jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt (mḥ t.wt). Sources do not support the idea that holders of this title acted as governors or heads presiding and controlling Asian territory246 similar to the position of a Viceroy of Kush in Nubia, whose rank was often linked to the title jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt rsj.wt.247 As was already discussed further up, the title of a Director of Foreign Countries seems to apply, in general, to executive members of the imperial administration on missions abroad, aiming at strategic and/or economic benefits for the state. Following D.B. Redford’s approach on Egypt’s imperial administration in the Levant, C.R. Higginbotham calls them, as well as the Royal Messengers, “circuit officials”, whose permanent residence was in Egypt, not abroad.248 In Western Asia as in Nubia, these were often Troop Commanders, but they also ranked as Garrison Commanders (jmj-r¡ jwʿy.t), Commanders of a Fortress (jmj-r¡ ḫ tmw), Royal Stablemasters (ḥ rj-jḥ w), or Heads of the Desert Police (wr nj mḏ¡y.w).249 Thus, Directors of the Northern Foreign Countries represented the middle level and not the highest echelons of the military organization, almost exactly corresponding to military ranks characterizing the commanders of Egyptian bases and garrisons in Syria and Palestine.250 Some biographical sources from the 18th Dynasty shed light on the scope of a jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt mḥ t.wt. 246  Some scholars speak for up to four Egyptian provinces in the Levant, cf. Murnane, in: Essays on Ancient Egypt, 257. See, in contrast, the thoroughful analysis of Egyptian foreign policy in the Levant by Redford, Egypt, 199–203. 247   Cf. e.g. O’Connor, in: Ancient Egypt, 208f. with fig. 3.4, or S. Israelit-Groll, “The Egyptian Administrative System in Syria and Palestine in the 18th Dynasty”, in: Fon­ tes atque pontes. Eine Festgabe für Hellmut Brunner, M. Görg ed. (Wiesbaden: ÄAT 5, 1983), 234–242, or Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 136–139, who tries to identify a possible Director of the Northern Foreign Countries in the Amarna letters, and generally 151–155. 248  Redford, Egypt, 201f., Higginbotham, Egyptianization, 136f. 249  See the compilation of title holders by Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 123–150 (chapter 2), and cf. Murnane, in: Essays on Ancient Egypt, 253f. 250   Cf. again Murnane, in: Essays on Ancient Egypt, loc. cit. The famous Director of Northern Foreign Countries Djehuty from the reign of Thutmose III, who might have been identical with the besieger and conqueror of the city of Joppa according to a Ramesside narrative on pHarris 500 (A.H. Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Stories (Brussels: BAeg 1, 1932), 82–85; H. Goedicke, “The Capture of Joppa”, CdE 43 (1968), 219–233, and F. Junge, “Die Eroberung von Joppe”, in: Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testa­ ments. Ergänzungslieferung (Güthersloh: 2001), 143–146), is distinguished as jmj-r¡



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In the case of Djehuty, Garrison Commander under Thutmose III, the function was linked to administrative rather than military tasks. This can be inferred from the combination of the title with (Royal) Scribe, sš(-nsw), which occurs quite frequently in his sequences.251 Further information is provided by an inscription on a scribal statue of Djehuty from Byblos:252 Assessing the b¡k.w-taxes and accepting the jn.w-deliveries, which, owing to the power of His Majesty, were brought as annual payment by the Princes [of] Retjenu. Shipping (them) southwards to Egypt b[y] the Direc­ tor of the Entryway to the Northern Country, the Royal Scribe Djehuty, justified.

According to this biographical note, a Director of Foreign Countries in Western Asia was largely engaged in collecting tribute and all kinds of deliveries and transferring them to the Egyptian court. In this context Djehuty calls himself a Director of the Entryway to the Northern Country, jmj-r¡ ʿ¡ n ḫ ¡s.t mḥt.t, an exclusive title that presents him as having authority over all which went in and out of Western Asia, a function that must have been linked to a specific locality at the border of Egypt (Sile?) or, more likely, at the border of Egyptian territory in Western Asia (Gaza?). E. Hirsch proposes to identify this place with Byblos, where his statue was found.253 Another title holder from the time of Thutmose III, Minmose, appears in his biography as an experienced officer and tax collector, responsible for the revenues of the Egyptian Treasury from WestAsian subdued cities and regions:254

mšʿ on his gold bowl, now Paris Louvre N. 713 (Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 156 No. 1 (with bibliography), which, however, might have been a modern forgery according to C. Lilyquist, “The Gold Bowl Naming General Djehuty: A Study of Objects and Early Egyptology”, Metropolitan Museum Journal 23 (1988), 22–40. Once, Djehuty is mentioned as a Head of the Army, ṯsw-pḏ.t, indicating a leadership role in a military operation, onguent vessel Leiden Rijksmuseum van Oudheden H 229/AAL 37 (again Hirsch, op. cit., 157 No. 6 (with bibliography). 251   For the sources in question see Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 126. 252  Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 124f., figs. 1–3, and 156 No. 3 (with further bibliography). 253  Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 125. 254  Statue from Medamud, ll. 4, 7–17, Urk. 1441:15, 1442:3–20, see on his career H. Kees, Das Priestertum im ägyptischen Staat vom Neuen Reich bis zur Spätzeit (Leiden, Köln: PdÄ 1, 1953), 33–35, and de Meulenaere, MDAIK 37 (1981), 315–319.

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andrea m. gnirs I followed the Good God, the King of Upper- and Lower-Egypt (Men­ kheperre), bestowed with life, transversing every country that he crossed . . . . . . . . . [I crossed] Upper [Retjenu], following my Lord, imposing taxes on [Upper] Retjenu [in silver], [. . .], all kind of semi-precious stones, chariot and horses without number (as well as) uncountable cattle and flocks. I instructed the Princes of Retjenu (to pay) their annual b¡k.wpayments, I imposed on the Princes of Nubia a tax of electrum . . . ?, gold, ivory, ebony (as well as) numerous ships (made of) palm-trees as annual payment like the servants of his palace. His Majesty has committed it to my care. Concerning these foreign countries, which I have mentioned, My Lord conquered them by virtue of his strength, his bow, his arrow, and his battle axe. I knew them, I taxed them, when they were assigned to the Treasury. I saw how the steadfastness of His Majesty’s arm performed in combat, capturing 30 sites within Takhsi. Carried away were their princes, people and cattle, when I led the brave army of the king, being a Royal CupBearer,255 who accomplished what was said. . . . . . . . .

This biography, like many others of the early 18th Dynasty, does not bother with exact military ranking titles of the tomb owner and detailed accounts of his personal battle experiences. While the king was the only celebrated agent in the war report, the owner’s fame was based on his individual relationship with the king as well as on his performances as tax collector and, above all, architect and Director of Works. In his records, the titles of Troop or Army Commander and Director of Northern Foreign Countries are missing,256 although there can be no doubt that he had occupied these positions. Iconographic evidence is provided by the tomb of Amenmose at Thebes, who bore, beside the title jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt mḥ t.wt, the military ranks of a Troop Commander and Stablemaster. While one scene shows the tomb owner in front of the king, presenting to him tribute and gifts delivered by Syro-Palestinian delegations, an adjacing wall depicts a scene of quite unconventional content: Amenmose escorted by an army division and administrative personnel on a trip abroad receives the goods a Levantine Prince offers him in front of the city  Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 310 with n. 91, reads jdnw instead of wdpw. 256   This corresponds with the missing title of a Royal Tutor, a function he must have temporarily held according to a cuboid statue showing the heads of two Princes protruding from the cubus of the sculpture, see above n. 21. According to Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 308–311, however, Minmose’s activities abroad were entirely administrative in nature. 255



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walls, such as precious metal work, raw material, cloth, cattle as well as wine or unguent.257 The depiction of armed troops suggests that transportation of tribute and/or diplomatic gifts from Western Asia to Egypt required protection, but also that at times, military pressure proved necessary when it came to collect foreign payments. This again explains why most Directors of the Northern Foreign Countries were Troop or Garrison Commanders, skilled in military logistics and acquainted with foreign territories and their local elite. Under Amenhotep II, Qenamun, owner of Theban Tomb No. 93, was Director of all the Northern Foreign Countries, Fortress-Commander, StandardBearer, and Royal Stablemaster, before he was promoted into the position of the Superintendant of the King’s Estate at Perunefer (see above section “Naval administration”). Although his tomb inscriptions and scenes provide abundant information on his life as a high court official, little would be known of his military career, had he not left shabti depots at two different sites outside of Thebes, one at Zawiet Abu Mesallam near Giza, the other at Abydos. On a shabti from Zawiet Abu Mesallam he is called “Director of all the Northern Foreign Countries and Fortress-Commander”,258 whereas the biographical inscription on a model coffin from Abydos referring to Qenamun’s military career elaborates on various aspects of his activities as jmj-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt mḥ t.wt:259 . . . He (i.e., the king) made me Standard-Bearer (ṯ¡j-sry.t) of his Great Ones, and I was appointed to (the position of) a leader (ḥ¡.wtj). I was the speaker of the men of his army (mdw.j sj.w/rmṯ n mnfy.t=f ) in everything that was said.260

257  TT 42, tribute scene on the west part of the north wall, west side, N. de Garis Davies, The Tombs of Menkheperrasonb, Amenmose, and Another (Nos. 86, 112, 42, 226) (London: TTS 5, 1933), 27–30, pls. XXXIII–XXXV; west wall: collecting payments and gifts abroad, Davies, Tombs of Menkheperrasonb, 30f., pl. XXXVI; see again Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 128f. 258  H. Wild, “Contributions à l’iconographie et à la titulature de Qen-amon”, BIFAO 56 (1957), 222–233, fig. 2 (C12), and cf. Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 131f. with fig. 6. 259  Rectangular model coffin from Umm el-Qaab, near the tomb of Den, excavation No. K 1042, inner sides ll. 7–15, F. Pumpenmeier, Eine Gunstgabe von seiten des Königs. Ein extrasepulkrales Schabtidepot Qen-Amuns in Abydos (Heidelberg: SAGA 19, 1998), 5–27, figs. 3–6, pls. 3–4, here: fig. 6 and pl. 4 center, left. The rank of a Royal StableMaster is inscribed on the inner side of one of the short panels, Pumpenmeier, op. cit., fig. 6 l. 28 (which is, in fact, line 27 of the inscription), and pl. 4 center right. The final part of the biography will be discussed below in section “Soldiers’ civil careers”. 260  Pumpenmeier, Schabtidepot, 17 and 21 (k), reads jnk mdw.j n mnfy.t=f m ḏd.t nb(.t), “ih bin die Autorität seines Heeres in allem, das gesagt wird”. For mdw.j see

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andrea m. gnirs He made many kftj.w-ships261 thanks to me,262 equipped with golden fans at the stern, when I followed His Majesty as companion of the king, being his attendant. He made many chariots thanks to me, worked in gold with (inlays of ) lapis lazuli, when I was in his following in Retjenu. I became elevated and advanced, when I reached the Princes of the Levant, all (of them) carrying their tribute . . .

Like Djehuty or Amenmose, Qenamun visited Syria in order to collect payments from the local rulers once they had pledged allegiance to the Egyptian crown. This activity was probably connected with his function as a Director of Foreign Countries. In his Theban tomb, built at the time when he was already appointed Superintendant of the King’s Estate, his former military career is referred to only vaguely, i.e. by noting that he served the king as a retainer and campaign ­companion.263 Again, on his tomb stela, which presents a résumé of his professional achievements, Qenamun’s military past is summarized in two phrases: “Retainer of the King on his departures to the foreign land of the wretched Retjenu, who hovered over (tš) the Lord of the Two Lands on the battlefield in the hour of fighting off millions”.264 Supplies of Troops, Fortresses and Garrisons Abroad In pAnastasi V, a model letter sent by a scribe to his father, the Troop Commander Bakenptah speaks of a delivery of kyllestis-bread and the term mdw.tj, “Redner, Demagog”, with a negative connotation in the Teaching for King Merikare, pPetersburg 1116 A vso., l. 23, cf. Wb II, 182: 6, and J.F. Quack, Studien zur Lehre für Merikare (Wiesbaden: GOF IV.23, 1992), 20–21, 166. 261   For this Syrian type of seagoing ships see Pumpenmeier, Schabtidepot, 89–93. 262  Pumpenmeier, Schabtidepot, 17 and 24, translates the two jrj.n=f n=j phrases “He made for me”, which, however, implies that the king provided Qenamun with items that in other historigraphical contexts are exclusive royal goods. For the gold of honor and specific military decoration granted by the king to trustful soldiers see K. Butterweck-AbdelRahim, Untersuchungen zur Ehrung verdienter Beamter (Aachen: AegMon 3, 2002), 66–69, and her catalogue on New Kingdom documentation of this practice, ibid., 70–203. 263  H. Guksch, Königsdienst. Zur Selbstdarstellung der Beamten in der 18. Dynastie (Heidelberg: SAGA 11, 1994), 186 cat. No. (072)01, 187 cat. No. (072)03, and 187f. cat. No. (072)5. 264  L. 5 of Qenamun’s stela in TT 93, N. de Garis Davies, The Tomb of Ken-Amun at Thebes (New York: 1930) pl. 44, and cf. Hirsch, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 13. Cf. also the combat epithets alluding to the military missions of the Royal Herald Djehutimose, owner of TT 342, fragment of a stela in the Cairo Museum, TN. 21.3.25.14, perhaps originally from his Theban Tomb dating to the period of Thutmose III, ll. +2–3, Selim, in: Studies in Honor of Ali Radwan II, 333–337, fig. 2, pl. II, see already above section “Military management, work forces and army logistics”.



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herbs to the officer and his servants. If this Bakenptah is identical with one of the two addressees in the preceding letter on the same papyrus, bearing the same title and name, it would be reasonable to assume that Bakenptah, along with another Troop Commander, was based at the stronghold (migdol) of Sety-Merenptah-Beloved-of-Seth, which, according to the text, must have been located in the desert adjacing the Egyptian border in the east.265 E.F. Morris even proposes to identify the same fortification with the migdol depicted in the war reliefs of Sety I, bearing this king’s name,266 which would be part of the chain of fortresses along the Way of Horus. At any rate, it seems that Bakenptah’s location was secluded from civilization and that his living conditions did not offer a balanced diet. This would explain the sorrowful tone of his son’s enquiry. From the 50 loaves he had intended to send together with the herbs, his deliveryman took only 30 loaves, leaving the rest behind, as the entire load would have been too heavy. Instead, 2 bricks of ointment were also part of the package.267 The fact that the author of the letter refers to the deliveryman only by name, which implies that the addressee must have known the person as well, and that the mentioned herbs came from “the garden”, probably family property, suggests that the provisions were sent on a private basis and not on account of a state office. It can be followed that it was a common practice for families to supply relatives in the army if they could afford it, in addition to their official payments and food rations (see also above the section “Military management, work forces and army logistics”). According to the Annals of Thutmose III, fields taken in possession by the Egyptian state in subjugated territories became royal property administered by Royal Agents, rwḏ.w n.w pr-nsw. After the battle of Megiddo, the crops from the enemy’s fields were harvested and confiscated by the Crown. It is also mentioned that some grain had already been cut during the assault by the Egyptian forces.268 The text does not say, however, where the wheat was brought. That, for instance, an Egyptian granary was located at Jaffa (ancient Joppa) during the early 19th Dynasty, can be concluded from the letter sent by the ­Ugaritian governor Takuhlina to Haya/Huy discussed above (see section “Foreign   pAnastasi V 19,2–20,6, Gardiner, LEM, 66f., Caminos, LEM, 254–258.  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 415–424. 267   pAnastasi V 20,6–21,8, Gardiner, LEM, 67f.; Caminos, LEM, 258–260. 268  Annals of Thutmose III on his Megiddo battle, ll. 102–103, Urk. IV, 667:10–15, and see Redford, Wars in Syria, 42f., and cf. ibid., 219. 265 266

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administration and the military in Asia”).269 According to this communication, Takuhlina has shipped 15 tons of wheat to the granary at Jaffa. From around the same time, a massive building containing a grain repository was found at Beth Shan.270 Huge storehouses are archaeologically documented for the 19th Dynasty residencies at Deir el-Balah, Tel Mor, Aphek, and perhaps also at Beth Shan.271 Olive oil production seems to have been an important industry in the region of Beth Shan.272 Vineyards in the northeastern Delta were exploited by the occupants of the frontier fortress of Sile from the reign of Amenhotep III.273 The wine was sent to the Residence as part of the Egyptian tax collections. Other products shipped from Sile were moringa-oil,274 honey,275 but also Levantine wine (jrp nj Ṯ ¡rw)276 and Qedy-beer.277 While honey and oil might have been locally produced, the mentioned foreign place-names show that the fortress of Sile also served as a storage place of foreign products to be shipped to Egypt.278 Storehouses at the fortress are already documented for the early 18th Dynasty. The products were either part of the taxes imposed on vassal rulers, who transferred them to Egypt, or supplies produced under imperial control at Egyptian bases: Situated directly adjacent to the 19th Dynasty “palace” of Aphek were two wine presses, each of which

 See above 692f.  A. Mazar, “Four Thousand Years of History at Tel Beth-Shean: An Account of the Renewed Excavations”, Biblical Archaeologist 60.2 (1997), 68f.; id., in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 165–166 and fig. 6, 178–179; and Morris, Architecture of Imperial­ ism, 609. 271  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 559f., 578, 607. 272  See again Mazar, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 178. 273  See W.C. Hayes, “Inscriptions from the Palace of Amenhotep III”, JNES 10 (1951), 88f., and the detailed discussion of wine dockets from the late 18th Dynasty by Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 276–285. 274  Hayes, JNES 10 (1951), 159 No. EE, fig. 27 EE. 275  Hayes, JNES 10 (1951), 159 No. CC fig. 27 DD. 276  Hayes, JNES 10 (1951), 89 no. 77 fig. 7 No. 77. 277  Hayes, JNES 10 (1951), fig. 9 No. 118, and C. Hope, Malkata and the Birket Habu 1971–74, No. 2 vol. 5. Jar Sealings and Amphorae (Warminster: Egyptology Today, 1977), 75 with reference to an inscribed jar fragment K 346, mentioning srm.tbear from Qedy. Cf. also M. Peters-Destéract, Pain, bière et toutes bonnes choses. . . L’alimentation dans l’Égypte ancienne (Lonrai: 2005), 176. 278   The mentioned products also appear in a lexicographical list that specifies the diversity of products to be held ready for remunerating an army returning from a military campaign, see pAnastasi IV 14,11 (honey); 15,4, where it is said that moringaoil was brought from Naharina in Syria, 16,1 (Levantine wine and Qdy-beer) and 16,4 (beer from Qedy). From the latter passage, we know, however, that Qdy-beer was also produced in Egypt, Gardiner, LEM, 52, and Caminos, LEM, 200, and see also below. 269 270



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had a collection basin to hold a capacity of 3,500 liters of liquid.279 The location of the processing area may suggest a direct exploitation of the local viticulture by the Egyptians.280 At Sile, a series of granaries already existing during the early 18th Dynasty and fit to store about 180 metric tons of grain are consistent with the use of the fort as point of departure of the Egyptian army leaving for campaigns up north. Numerous kilns for baking bread were built next to them, indicating that industrial food production took place at the side.281 On pKoller, a list of equipment for chariots leaving on a military campaign comprises, beside the weaponry, fodder and finely chopped straw in containers for the horses, while the soldiers’ bread (kyllestis) was carried in haversacks. For this purpose, donkeys were brought along, each of them supervised by two drivers. The horses, by contrast, were watched and fed by stablemasters and grooms.282 Provisioning more than 8,000 men including 5,000 soldiers, 200 sailors, 50 charioteers with their horses (a contingent of at least 50 teams), 50 desert-policemen, and some military administrators and controllers, the big quarrying expedition to the Wadi Hammamat early in the reign of Ramesses IV was accompanied by 10 large carts full of supplies, each pulled by 6 teams of oxen, and by carriers laden with “bread, meat, and cakes” beside a great variety of offerings to the gods.283 While Ramesses IV’s stela does not relate precise quantities of food and other supplies, a quarrying inscription by Sety I in Gebel es-Silsila is more detailed. The king states that for a work force of an army of 1,000 men and the crews of the transport ships, he spent per capita “20 deben (about 1,800 g) of bread twice a day, bundles of vegetables, roasted meat, and two sacks of grain each month”. The Royal Messenger, who was in charge of the enterprise, received “best bread, beef, wine, sweet moringa-oil and sesame-oil, pomegranate-wine, honey, figs, grapes, fish, and vegetables each day, and likewise the great flower-bouquet of His Majesty, L.P.H., daily” from the temple of Sobek Lord of Gebel

279  P. Beck, M. Kochavi, “A Dated Assemblage of the Late 13th Century B.C.E. from the Egyptian Residency at Aphek”, Tel Aviv 12 (1985), 32. 280  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 582. 281  Abd el-Maksoud, Tell Heboua 36, 48f., 114–120 and 122, and Morris, Architec­ ture of Imperialism, 59f. 282   pKoller 1,1–2,2, Gardiner, LEM, 116f., Caminos, LEM, 431–436. 283  Ll. 19–22 of the inscription, Couyat and Montet, Les inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques, 34–39 No. 12, pl. 4 (KRI VI, 14:9–15), and see above n. 142.

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es-Silsila. The Standard-Bearers of his army, in contrast, received “6 sacks of grain delivered from the granaries”.284 In the 19th Dynasty fortress of Umm el-Rakham situated at the Libyan border, grain was supplied by local agriculture, but also by import on ships. So far, there is archaeological evidence for four granaries of about 14m3 each, which corresponds to a maximal storage capacity of about 56,000 litres. In order to provide occupants and animals at the fort with water, wells had been dug.285 At other sites, which were set at the major military route of the Way of Horus like Bir el-ʿAbd or Deir el-Balah, water reservoirs were maintained. Bir el-ʿAbd also supplied grain silos, which could store up to 40 tons of grain. Since the area around the base was rather barren, the grain must have been imported from Egypt or from the Levant.286 In Tel Seraʾ, one of the two southern Canaanite bases still occupied in the 20th Dynasty (the other is Tell el-Farʾah further south), some bowls and pottery sherds inscribed with hieratic dockets have been found at the so-called residency, an administrative building, giving insight into grain transactions in Canaan around the time of Ramesses III.287 The inscriptions are notations of payments measuring 460 up to 2,000 hekat (i.e., about 33,500–145,652 liters) of grain.288 O. Goldwasser points out that the same Egyptian-style type of bowls was found in large quantities in contemporary sanctuaries at Lachish and Beth Shan,289 which would strengthen the thesis that also the bowls from Tel Seraʾ were used as a kind of votive gift to a local or an imported Egyptian deity. In the latter case, one could also imagine that part of the grain was transferred to the main temple in Egypt. One of the bowls mentions the source of the provisions, a pr-domain.290 The large amounts of grain noted in the dockets would suggest a public institution rather than

284  Rock inscription at East Silsila, l. 9, ll. 10–12, ll. 12–13, KRI I, 60:13–14; 61:2–3, and 61:5; RITA Translations I, 52f., Davies, Egyptian Historical Inscriptions, 202f., and cf. Hikade, Expeditionswesen, 48f., 227f. Cat.No. 194. 285  S. Snape, “Vor der Kaserne: External Supply and Self-Sufficiency at Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham”, in: Cities and Urbanism in Ancient Egypt. Papers from a Work­ shop in November 2006 at the Austrian Academy of Sciences, M. Bietak, E. Czerny and I. Forstner-Müller eds. (Vienna: UZKÖAI 35: 2010), 283f. 286  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 297–299, 302–305. 287  Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 752–754. 288  O. Goldwasser, “Hieratic Inscriptions from Tel Seraʾ in Southern Canaan”, Tel Aviv 11 (1984), 77–93, pls. 4–7, and Morris, Architecture of Imperialism, 753. 289  Goldwasser, Tel Aviv 11 (1984), 85f. 290   Bowl No. 2, Goldwasser, Tel Aviv 11 (1984), 80, fig. 2, pl. 5:2.



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private donators. In analogy with the prosopographical evidence of Egyptian officials in the Levant, a royal domain seems most likely, run by a Superintendant of the kind of the Army-Commander Ramessesuser-khepesh from Beth Shan mentioned above. He was constrained to “provide for every granary”, which might have been related to the royal residency at Beth Shan.291 Agriculturally, the Nubian province was much less productive than the northern regions.292 Some of the residential centers served as production centers for the state and the elite and/or as depots for the supply of Egyptian residents and military installations. The most important stakeholders of land and agricultural production were state offices and temples. According to the Nauri Decree left by Sety I, this king’s temple at Abydos profited from Nubian fish pools, cattle, goats, birds and other animals. Among its employees were beekeepers, gardeners, and vintners, even though most of the wine allocated to the higher-ranking officials in the fortress-towns was imported from Egypt.293 The Nauri Decree also suggests that there was a certain practice by the Nubian government and its representatives, including high military personnel, to claim manpower, ships, their loads, fields or cattle belonging to a temple such as Sety’s Mansion of Millions of Years at Abydos for their own purposes (see also above the sections “Naval administration” and “Abuse of military authority”). Thus, it seems that military commanders in Nubia were used to draw from state resources at hand whenever they were in need and they felt entitled to. Keeping chariot-horses afforded arable land to produce enough fodder for the animals. Again a fictive letter on pSallier I can give some insight into animal husbandry connected with the most expensive and prestigious branch of the military, the chariotry.294 The model letter suggests that the head of the stable (in this case the Stable-Master of the Great Stable of the King at the Residence) administered the fields on which fodder for the horses was grown. As horses from the Royal Stable were concerned, the fields were situated on Pharaoh’s property. Once assigned to the Stable, they should be recorded and filed at  Ward, in: James, The Iron Age at Beth Shan, fig. 96:1, 3.  Information presented here are largely drawn from Morkot, in: Actes de la VIIIe conférence internationale des études Nubiennes, 175–189. 293   Cf. Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien, 199f.; jar sealings found at Buhen point to wine import from Egypt as well as from local (Nubian) production, Smith, Buhen, 162–179, on imports to Buhen during the New Kingdom ibid., 180–189. 294   pSallier I 9,1–9, Gardiner, LEM, 87f., Caminos, LEM, 325–329. 291 292

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the Royal Granary, while another copy should be kept under wraps.295 The title holder who authorized the allotments of land was the ChiefKeeper of Documents at the Royal Treasury. This shows again the close relationship between the administration of the King’s House and the military. While many other documents contain complaints against the abuse of power by the army (see also above the section “Abuse of military authority”), in this letter criticism goes the other way around as a Royal Stable-Master complains about the unauthorized confiscation of land assigned to the Stable by an Intendant of the King’s Mansion of Millions of Years (i.e., of Ramesses II) at Thebes. According to the Amarna correspondence, troops and horses stationed in the north in one of the Egyptian bases or crossing the Levant on a military campaign were housed and fed by native rulers allied with Egypt. Supplies for men and animals included beer, wine, cattle, poultry, and small cattle, honey, oil, grain, water and straw. Vassals were also obliged to dispatch military units and ships in order to assist the Egyptians in military campaigns, to provide horses, donkeys, cattle, all kinds of food, and tents for the soldiers or to cultivate the lands under Egyptian administration around garrison cities.296 Also, pAnastasi I refers to this common practice during the period of Egyptian imperialism in the Levant:297 Provisions prepared by a Syro-Palestinian ally for an army counting 5,000 men, for which the Semitic term šlmt “peace gift” was used, comprised two bread-types, small cattle and wine. The quantity of rations that was charged to the local ruler had to be accurately calculated by the army scribe, who again was responsible to the commander of the campaign. A text from the Late Egyptian Miscellanies instructs in provisions to be prepared for the arrival of Pharaoh on his way back home from a military campaign.298 Neither the sender nor the addressee of the   The terminus technicus used here is snn jp.w ẖr jnb.t, pSallier I 9,8.  See A.R. Schulman, “Some Observations on the Military Background of the Amarna Period”, JARCE 3 (1964), 63f. with a list of letters in n. 99, which contain or answer to royal orders to prepare supplies or troops before the arrival of an Egyptian army. Cf., on more general terms, N. Naʾaman, “Economic Aspects of the Egyptian Occupation of Canaan”, Israel Exploration Journal 31 (1981), 172–185; id., “The Egyptian-Canaanite Correspondence”, in: Amarna Diplomacy, 132, and Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 155. 297   pAnastasi I 17,2–18,2, Fischer-Elfert, Satirische Streitschrift. Textzusammenstel­ lung, 119–122; id., Satirische Streitschrift. Übersetzung, 148–157. 298   pAnastasi IV 13,8–17,9 (in parts also copied on pKoller 5,5–8, and pAnastasi IIIA 1–8), Gardiner, LEM, 49–54, Caminos, LEM, 198–219. 295 296



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letter are mentioned, but from a passage that lists different kinds of ointments to be allocated at the arrival it can be inferred that the main recipients were the king’s “army and chariotry”.299 Although the sheer diversity of the mentioned items, nicely grouped according to product types, characterizes the letter as a didactic text, exploring the lexicon connected with state logistics and provisioning, it gives an idea about the victuals and allowances in kind awaiting an army returning from the battle field. These consisted of various kinds of breads, among them one thousand loaves of kemeh-kyllestis-bread300 intended as provisions for the army, while high-quality bread was meant for high-ranking persons:301 The big, good baked bread is meant as provisions for the Great Ones, while kemeh-bread and mixed bread of the Asiatics (šbn n ʿ¡m.w) will be the provisions of the army. They will be in trays below the window of appearance of the right sight.

According to this passage, the listed supplies were, in fact, part of the recompensation of the army, which took place in public and was carried out by the king himself, who rewarded soldiers and commanders personally by receiving and honoring them below the window of appearance.302 Beside the bread rations, the full range of victuals comprised cakes, dried meat, entrails, milk products, fruits, vegetables and herbs, geese, grain, honey, and (fresh) meat, also reeds, wood, weed and charcoal, incense and different kinds of oils and unguents, cattle, poultry and fish, as well as different kinds of drinks such as­

  pAnastasi IV 15,4–5.   Kyllestis-bread was also mentioned among the products sent by a family to a Troop Commander on mission abroad (see above). 301   pAnastasi IV 17,5–7. 302  A similar procedure is described in the Annals of Amenemhet II, ll. x+25–26, H. Altenmüller and A.M. Moussa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. aus dem PtahTempel von Memphis. Vorbericht”, SAK 18 (1991), 18, and later on in Horemheb’s Decree, see above the section “The Royal Guard”. In an iconographic parallel to the scene described in the text, the stela of Mesu from Qantir/Piramesse, now Hildesheim Pelizaeus-Museum 374, dating to Ramesses II, shows in the lower part the king rewarding the army (p¡ mšʿ r-ḏr=f  ), with the owner next to the king and his statue, H. Kayser, Die ägyptischen Altertümer im Roemer-Pelizaeus-Museum in Hildesheim (Hildesheim 1973), 59f., Abb. 51, and Vomberg, Erscheinungsfenster, 235f., fig. 136 with bibliography. 299 300

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Egyptian and Qedy-beer,303 Levantine wine and special beverages for the servants.304 Soldiers’ Civil Careers: Aspects of a Loyalistic Model of the State In terms of government appointments, New Kingdom Egypt was not very far from its modern counterpart. Up to this day, army commanders build the government and set themselves up as state leaders, securing their power by filling important government posts with military colleagues or handing over to them important economic enterprises, although most recently, in a period of political change, the old clannish elite may loose power and give way to a more democratic system. First struggling for political independence from foreign domination (Hyksos), then indulging in expansionistic goals, also the rulers of the New Kingdom belonged to the military elite and were heavily dependent on the efficiency and reliability of their armed forces (see above “Political power of the army”). Ever since, trusted soldiers were granted special remuneration in form of luxury goods, allotment of land and slaves, exclusive royal presents and provisions, while from the 18th Dynasty it became common practice to install them in prestigious positions within the state, town or temple administration, most often connected with considerable economic profit.305 This purpose is made quite clear in a royal decree issued in favour of an earned Commander of the Royal Fleet, Nebamun, dating to the middle of the 18th Dynasty:306 Year 6. Order issued in the Majesty of the Palace, L.P.H., on this day for the Mayor and Commander of the Ships of Upper- and Lower-Egypt. The order says: ‘My Majesty, L.P.H., has ordered (to the effect that) you may receive a good old age by favor of the King in order to satisfy the needs of the Standard-Bearer of the Royal Ship Meri[imen] Nebamun after he has reached old age while following Pharaoh, L.P.H., in (his) presence truthfully, improving every day in doing what has been ordered to him without being blamed, nor have I found (any) reproof (in him), 303  According to the passage, Qdy-beer, originally a foreign beverage, was also produced in Egypt: “Every (grown) man among them (i.e., the service staff consisting of young men) will be at the production sites and prepare Qdy-beer für the King’s House, L.P.H., and seasoned(?) ale (srm.t nj t¡ ʿn.t)”, pAnastasi IV 16,3–4. 304   p¡wr is an unknown drink of inferior quality, see Caminos, LEM, 157f. 305  See above section “Political power of the army” and, in general, Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft. 306  TT 90, transverse hall, west wall, south side, Davies and Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials, 35, pl. 26, and Säve-Söderbergh, The Navy, 83f.



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instead, the firebrand (lit.: producer of heat) was reported to him. Then My Majesty, L.P.H., appointed him Head of the Police on the Westside of Thebes (ḥrj-mḏ¡y.w ḥr jmnt.t W¡s.t) at the entire site(?) and at the site “Great is the Power”, until he has reached the status of reverence. And I gave him household staff, cattle, fields, servants, and property on water and on land, without allowing them to be interfered with by any agent of the King, any Standard-Bearer of (the Ship) Meryamun, or any veteran of the [crew?]307 [. . . . . .].’

The position of a Head of the Police at Thebes required an official residence equipped with all the commodities an elite household demanded. Parts of his property, including his house, are depicted in his Theban tomb.308 A similar text has survived from the reign of Ramesses II, although in this case the promotion of a career soldier to Head of the Desert Police (wr nj mḏ¡y.w) and Director of Works in the temple of Ramesses II at Western Thebes was sanctioned by a divine resolution in the temple of his hometown Koptos.309 In contrast to the Ramesside military, officers of the 18th Dynasty who ended up their career as state officials did barely refer to their former military ranks.310 A stereotype often used in biographies or tomb inscriptions to describe active military service was to present themselves as Royal Retainers or Followers of the King/at the King’s Feet to Foreign Countries on campaigns to Nubia or Canaan.311 Some of them were foster brothers of the future king, who had enjoyed military 307  Davies and Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials, pl. 26, complements [t]nj nj p[¡] j[j] [. . .], “veteran of the soldiery(?)”, but could also be completed to [t]nj nj p¡ [ẖn] j[j.t] [. . .]. 308  TT 90, transverse hall, west wall, north side, Davies and Davies, The Tombs of Two Officials, pl. 30 (a garden with pond, a vineyard, and a wine press) and pls. 33–34 (house). 309  Stela of Penra from Koptos, a former Troop-Commander, Director of Foreign Countries in the Levant, and Charioteer of the King, Ashmolean Museum 1894.106d, KRI III, 270–271, KRITA Translations III, 192f.), and S. Gohary, “The Remarkable Career of a Police Officer”, ASAE 71 (1987), 97–100 and fig. 1. For his professional history see Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 156f. Cf. also, above the section “Military management, work forces, and army logistics”, the later career of the officer ­Amenemone. 310  See, in contrast, Redford, Wars in Syria, 195–197, who argues that at the time of Thutmose III, the military entourage of the king broadly consisted of civil title holders: “. . . the core of recruited force, i.e., those immediately surrounding the king, were drawn from household, administration, or ‘the nursery’”. 311  See biographies of the earlier 18th Dynasty translated by Redford, Wars in Syria, 165–181, and H. Guksch, Königsdienst, 58–61, 65–67. Shirley, in: Egypt, Canaan and Israel, 291–319, however, argues that some of these officials carried out only civil functions during the wars their kings waged abroad, such as the collection of taxes or

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training side by side with the Princes at court and were, thus, apt to follow their lord on military operations abroad. Qenamun, the famous Superintendant of the Royal Estate at Perunefer under Amenhotep II, was one of them. Having served as a Standard-Bearer, Fortress-Commander and imperial tax collector in his early years (see above the section “Foreign administration and the military in Asia”), he ended up as Overseer of the Cattle of Amun and Mayor, First Royal Herald and finally as Royal Superintendant, taking over a series of prestigious economic and politically important positions in the royal administration. His rather unusual biography inscribed on a model shabti coffin dedicated to his mother312 gives a glimpse of the circumstances in which a royal favor resulted in promotions and privileges:313 When I was on the curricle (ḥtrj) alone with him, he told me about his decision to make me first of the whole country, without being there any­ body equal to me. He confided to me many horses, fresh and beautiful, 50 were harnessed for me, when I followed his Majesty. He entrusted to me many prestigious positions from the (best) choices of the Black Land. His Great Ones saw me how I was greeted and how the earth was kissed in presence (of the king), when I was with him. I was sweeter (to him) than his (own) son, when he looked at me, to the delight of the Overseer of Cattle Qenamun.

Qenamun’s records allow a portrait of his personal history. Grown up as a foster brother of the crownprince and as his comrade-in-arms, he accompanies the king as a young man on military campaigns. Common experiences and Qenamun’s efficiency prompt the king to entrust him with leadership roles in the army, where he advances into the positions of a Standard-Bearer, Fortress-Commander and finally to the prestigious post of a Stablemaster of the royal horses (see also above the section “Foreign administration and the military in Asia”). As imperial executive sent to the Levant for collecting taxes, he becomes well acquainted with the royal administration, in particular, the Royal Treasure and the Treasury, a qualification that might later

tribute, and that they never held military ranks. Cf. again above the section “Foreign administration and the military in Asia”. 312   For references see above n. 259. 313  Ll. 16–29, Pumpenmeier, Schabtidepot, 18, fig. 6 and pl. 4 below and center right.



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have ­facilitated his promotion into the ranks of the Overseer of Cattle and of the King’s Superintendant. Bureaucratic careers launched by former officers can also be retraced for the Ramesside Period. After the establishment of a professional army, a process that was completed at the end of the 18th Dynasty,314 career soldiers did usually not leave the military organization except for entering the Nubian imperial administration, where they could rise to the position of the Troop-Commander of Kush or even that of the Viceroy.315 Although Ramesside biographies of soldiers are rare at that time, as the genre had shifted its focus from the individual’s social integration towards religious behaviour and divine service,316 historical records, mostly title sequences, sometimes allow for reconstructing major career moves. Paser, for instance, who lived at the end of the 18th Dynasty, passed from the ranks of a Standard-Bearer and Stablemaster to that of a Marshall, until he finally qualified for the position of the Governor of Nubia at the end of his professional life, succeeding his father Amenhotep/Huy in office.317 Huy’s military past had been quite similar to that of his son: He held the rank of jdnw nj ḥ m=f m tj n.t-ḥ trj, Lieutenant-Commander of His Majesty in the Chariotry, i.e., Commander-in-Chief of mobile forces, while his son as jmj-r¡ ssm.wt had been the strategic and administrative head of this branch of the professional army.318 A similar career can be retraced for a namesake of his and successor in office in the time of Ramesses II. This later Huy is known first to have been Troop Commander, then Marshal and King’s Lieutenant-Commander in the Chariotry. Before he was appointed Viceroy of Kush, he became involved as a Royal Envoy319  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 17–34.  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 66–79, 134–139. 316   Cf. A.M. Gnirs, “Autobiography”, in: Ancient Egyptian Literature. History and Forms, A. Loprieno ed. (Leiden, New York, Köln: PdÄ 10, 1996), 233–236, and E. Frood, Biographical Texts from Ramessid Egypt (Atlanta: Writings from the Ancient World, 2007), 19–23, 24–26. 317  Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 73f. The combination of the titles ṯ¡j-sry.t and ḥ rj-jḥ w is uncommon in the Ramesside Period. See, however, Qenamun’s professional history described in his biography above. 318  Owner of Theben Tomb No. 40, Davies, Tomb of Huy, and see above the section “Nubian provincial administration and the military”. 319   The diplomatic corps between Egypt and Khatti consisted of Hittite and Egyptian Envoys, the wp.wtj-nsw Netjeruimes/Nemtimes(?) alias Parekhnu(a)/Parihnawa (Babylonian) probably being the most prominent Egyptian official involved in the formation of the peace treaty as well as in Ramesses’ First Diplomatic Marriage, Roth, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 97f. with n. 39. On the reading of his name as Nmtj-ms see 314 315

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in the so-called First Hittite Marriage of Ramesses II, a diplomatic act of highest priority pursued by both Egypt and Khatti in order to strengthen their peace treaty.320 In one of his inscriptions, he is said to have “come up to Khatti, brought her Princess (from her homeland to the Egyptian border) and reported all that which has never happened before”. The official version of the same event, which refers to the King’s troops and chariots mixed with those of the Hittites to escort the princess and the international delegation,321 shows that his military qualification as a Troop Commander of Sile and Commander-in-Chief of the Chariotry made him suitable for this delicate mission. High-ranking combat soldiers did not usually switch from active military service to the administrative headquarters of the army to obtain the rank of a jmj-r¡ mšʿ (wr) and to enter from there an office in the upper royal bureaucracy. Some of them, however, broke this rule like Iupa and his father Urkhija early in the 19th Dynasty.322 Originally from a Hurrian background, Urkhija must have made his career as a Troop-Commander of the King in the reign of Sety I. His unusual promotion into the rank of a Commander-in-Chief of the Army, jmj-r¡ mšʿ wr, which brought him into the highest senior executive position in the military organization, paved his way for entering the royal administration as a (Super)Intendant of the King’s Mansion of Millions of

M. Müller, Akkadisch in Keilschrifttexten aus Ägypten. Deskriptive Grammatik einer Interlanguage des späten zweiten vorchristlichen Jahrtausends anhand der Ramses-Briefe (Münster: AUAT 373, 2010), 16, with further bibliography. His tomb in the Memphite necropolis, called Bubasteion I.16 by its excavators, was discovered by A. Zivie, Les tombeaux retrouvés de Saqqara (Monaco: 2003), 120–141, and id., “Le messager royal égyptien Pirikhnawa”, BMSAES 6 (2006), 68–78. According to his tomb inscriptions, Zivie, BMSAES 6 (2006), 69 and 74f. figs. 3–4, and id., Tombeaux retrouvés, pls. on pp. 121, 123, he held a high position at the Royal Residence, being Director of the Treasury as well as Superintendant of the Royal Estate at Memphis. In this function, also Haremhab, the later king, acted as a delegate and negotiating partner with foreign delegations, see also above the section “Political power of the army”. 320  Stela Berlin 17332, ll. 3–5, KRI III, 79:15–80:1, and RITA III, 55, and cf. K.A. Kitchen, “High Society and Lower Ranks in Ramesside Egypt at Home and Abroad”, BMSAES 6 (2006), 32, who translates the phrase jj ḥ r Ḫ t¡ “who came from the Hattiland” (cursive by the author). See also above pp. 692f. 321  Inscription at Abu Simbel, ll. 35–36 and 39–41 (KRI II, 248:4–15, 250:7–251:11), and Davies, Egyptian Historical Inscriptions, 117–143; cf. also H. Klengel, Hattuschili und Ramses. Hethiter und Ägypter—ihr langer Weg zum Frieden (Mainz: Kulturgeschichte der antiken Welt, 2002), 127–139; cf. also D. Lefevre, “Le marriage comme instrument politique au Proche-Orient ancien: Ramsès II et la princesse Hittite”, Égypte, Afrique & Orient 39 (2005), 3–12; S. Roth, in: Der ägyptische Hof, 90f., 97f., 102–106. 322  See Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 56f., 147f., and 180f.



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Years at Thebes under Ramesses II. As Urkhija also bore the title of a Director of Works, a function that was often assigned to Army Commanders, he might have been involved in the construction of the mentioned temple at Western Thebes. Iupa first followed his father’s steps to finally surpass the latter’s career: It seems that he left the professional army sometime after he had become Marshal. Like his father, he was army commander and construction supervisor, who was involved at one of the building sites of the newly founded Residence Piramesse, i.e., “the Great Stable of Ramessu-Meryamun”, according to an account book from the 5th year of Ramesses II, the so-called Paris Leather Roll.323 Later on during his career, he became not only Superintendant of the Ramesseum at Thebes, but also Director of the Treasury of the King and Director of the Granaries. Conclusions The historical records of the New Kingdom show the flexibility of the Egyptian bureaucratic system, which allowed career moves between different departments, especially between the military and the higher royal administration, thus facilitating access to higher social and economic distinction. The shift of a professional elite from the military to the royal administration on the basis of seniority was a common practice not only in Egypt, but also in other ancient bureaucracies and point to a loyalist system of promotion. In the earlier New Kingdom, it seems that the military, broadly supported by the King’s House, exerted a strong influence on other departments. Sources suggest that executive power was often delegated ad personam according to relations with the king rather than according to institutional hierarchies. To fill important positions constantly from the higher echelons of the army worked against the natural tendency towards hereditary offices and the rise of powerful family clans.324 Apart from this, the military played a crucial role in politics and society throughout the New Kingdom, 323   Col. II,1 and II,6, KRI II, 790:3 and 790:12. Piramesse was built during the first years of the reign of Ramesses II. In the account, the Great Stable of Ramesses­Meryamun is mentioned as the institution, for which Iupa had ordered a huge amount of mud bricks, cf. also Klengel, Hattuschili und Ramses, 109–111. 324  Within the military, this is rarely documented, see, for instance, the founders of the 19th Dynasty, the Paramessu-family (section “Political power of the army”), or the Iurkha/Iupa family (section “Soldiers’ and careers”), Gnirs, Militär und Gesellschaft, 56f., 147f., 179–181.

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owing to its increasing interests abroad. One of the ideological cornerstones of Egyptian kingship was the submission of the outside world. While the king was always de iure Supreme Commander of Egypt’s armed forces, during the late 18th and the early 19th Dynasty military expertise as essential condition for the claim to the throne was no longer taken for granted, but became an explicit requirement of royal succession expressed in the rank of a Commander-in-Chief of the Army. At the same time, the title Regent was introduced to designate the crown prince. At that point, kingship had given up its divine status in favor of a bureaucratic understanding of responsibilities (section “Political powers of the army”). In Egyptian society, demarcation lines between different spheres of competence were not clearly cut, as shown by a significant number of letters of complaints and royal decrees that refer to overlapping between military and bureaucratic institutions (cf. above the sections “Abuse of military authority” and “Supplies of troops, fortresses and garrisons”). However, infringements by military personnel clearly prevailed, which led, at times, to new laws and exemption decrees. Most breaches occurred in the economic sphere wherever the military had direct access to manpower, facilities and supplies for the army. In contrast, the advantage of this “fuzzy” range between authorization and malfeasance characteristic of the interactions of the military with other state institutions was a fast and unbureaucratic implementation of royal projects and missions or of emergency cases and instant ­shortages. Demarcation lines were, however, at work within the military organization. After the establishment of a permanent army, which strongly relied on specialized units such as bowmen troops, mercenaries and chariotry, combat soldiers and officers followed a different career than army commanders, military scribes and logistics managers, who constituted the upper army administration. While the latter often had access to prestigious offices connected with the King’s House at the end of their professional lifetime, career soldiers did barely leave the army. When they moved up the career ladder, at best, they became Marshal or, on a more temporary basis, Lieutenant-Commander of the Chariotry. Experiences in royal missions abroad and/or in armed conflicts qualified some of them for posts in the imperial tax and tribute administration, in the Egyptian diplomatic corps or in the provincial government of Nubia, where they could take over the most powerful positions of the Troop-Commander of Kush or of the Viceroy.



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While during the New Kingdom Nubia was totally under Egyptian control, divided into two main provinces with different administrative key zones and a fully developed administration, Egypt’s imperial grasp on the Levant was much looser and less bureaucratic due to the complex geo- and socio-political situation of the region, consisting of more or less independent political centers and kinglets. Although the King’s House had built up a dense network of Egyptian bases and residencies at various locations and could rely in the north on a well established and rapidly working communication system between the Court and Egyptian representatives or vassals as well as on foreign infrastructure, Egypt never knew a hierarchically organized imperial government in Canaan comparable to that of Nubia. Except for the fortresses that were built already during the Middle Kingdom in Nubia and that were partly taken over as strategic and economic sites by the kingdom of Kerma during the Second Intermediate Period, after the defeat of the Kushites Egypt had to rebuild its own infrastructure in the reconquered south. Military presence was a general feature of Egyptian imperialism. While the Nubian government always underheld tight relations with the professional army, truly military operations were rare since local elites could be integrated into the imperial system soon after the reconquest of the province. The stationing of troops was mainly directed at protecting the exploitation of resources and their transport to Egypt and at guaranteeing a constant flow of trade goods and tribute back home. On the one hand, military bases in the Levant served similar purposes, on the other hand, they secured and defended Egypt’s political claim on city-states and regions at local as well as at international level, using the zone as a buffer against expansionist interests of neighboring states such as the kingdom of Mitanni or that of Khatti. Vassal cities and states had to provide troops and chariots with victuals and other commodities, even with armed forces, while contingents based in Nubia were maintained on the basis of Egypt’s own agricultural production in the Nile Valley. Owing to both its entitlement to maintenance and its constant contribution towards a full state purse, the army underheld close relations with royal institutions and, above all, the two major economic departments of the state, the Granaries and the Treasury, although it seems that official channels were often neglected when the military was in need of resources and material of any kind.

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Archaeological evidence shows that military bases and fortresses were usually equipped with sustainance facilities. From model letters and administrative documents it can be inferred that the diet of soldiers stationed at strongholds or bases abroad was one-sided. Standard food was a particular bread-type, the so-called kyllestis-bread, which was also carried along as supplies during campaigning. While the logistics office of the army was responsible not only for conscribing recruits, but also for giving out soldiers’ rations, provisions were, in fact, allocated by the Granaries’ administration and related institutions. The function of a jdnw n mšʿ was, thus, a truly administrative post at the intersection between bureaucracy and military. An intermediary nature also characterizes the position of a Commander of the Army, who was specialized in organizing and supervising armies on the battlefield as well as in quarries, mines, or on construction sites. Also the navy was structurally located at the crossroads between army and bureaucracy. While transportation of troops by ship was always an important factor of warfare in the Nile valley and along the Mediterranean coast, New Kingdom Egypt did not really have a battle fleet with specialized war vessels and marines. Although we have ample documentation about soldiers and officers serving on ships, their titles suggest that in terms of combat techniques and organization, their domain of operation was not different from that of land troops. Naval warfare, i.e., the defense of Egypt’s borders by ship, might have begun to develop quite late during the New Kingdom, around the time of Ramesses III, who fought the so-called seapeople on land and at sea as battle scenes on the walls of the Great Temple of Medinet Habu suggest (see above section “Military functions and ranks in the ‘navy’ ”). In earlier history, vessels were used for transportation of troops, horses and arms or as mobile bases during warfare, but not for combat. A naval commander in charge of a ship equipped with soldiers was, therefore, on a par with a commander of land troops; his title was then interchangeable with that of a Standard-Bearer, but there was no specific naval ranking title confined to warfare only. Troop-Commanders deployed on ships, on the other hand, were not always sent on military missions, but could be in charge of the transportation of foreign goods or tribute, working then for the Royal Treasury. The same can be said about the Royal Fleet, which was deployable as navy in times of warfare, most often, however, as cargo fleet transporting goods and resources for royal temples or the Treasury. It is, therefore, not surprising that the fleet was administratively subordinated to the office of the Vizier and not to a military cadre.



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In conclusion, it is uncertain whether for New Kingdom Egypt we can speak of a true military organization at work. Although ­foreign policy did rely on a professionalized branch of the army and truly military careers can be traced in the historical records from the 18th Dynasty onwards, the management and the administration of the army were closely intertwined with other departments, especially economic institutions. Egyptian bureaucracy as a whole seems to be characterized by “fuzzy” divisional, hierarchical as well as professional boundaries. This lack of clear-cut confines is a key aspect of a sociopolitical system based on royal patronage, which allowed an increase of professionalization only inasmuch as the network of royal power was not at stake.

The administration of institutional agriculture in the New Kingdom* Sally L.D. Katary The institutional administration of agriculture in the New Kingdom is largely a further development of patterns already established in the Middle Kingdom. Individual landholding under institutional administration, also responsible for large-scale collective cultivation by fieldlabourers, is illuminated but hardly exhaustively explained as a result of the testimony of administrative documents from both the early and late New Kingdom. Literary evidence and tomb inscriptions expand points in the discussion. However, new perspectives and directions of research are suggested by a study of assessment rates in the Wilbour Papyrus. As early as the reign of Ahmose, at the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, documentation on land tenure appears in the historical record in the form of allotments of smallholdings awarded to veterans in appreciation for their military services to king and country. These land grants imply a kind of private landholding that guaranteed virtual private ownership; that is, the right to the land for purposes of cultivation, the freedom to cultivate it as desired, and the right to the harvest, provided taxes were delivered regularly to the appropriate authorities. According to his colourful “funerary autobiography”, inscribed in his rock-cut tomb at el-Kab in Upper Egypt, Ahmose son of Abana entered the military as a soldier on a ship, following in the footsteps of his own father and eventually rising to the rank of commander of a crew (ḥ ry h̠nyt).1 As a distinguished veteran of the wars against the Hyksos, in Palestine at Sharuhen, in the Nubian campaigns of Amenhotep I and Thutmose I, as well as the Syrian campaign of

* I would like to thank Professor Allan B. Daoust of Laurentian University for his assistance with the statistics and computer program. 1   V. Loret, L’inscription d’Ahmès fils d’Abana (Cairo: BdE 3, 1910); M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings. Vol. 2: The New Kingdom (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1976), 12–15; J.K. Hoffmeier, The Content of Scripture. Vol. 2: Monumental Inscriptions from the Biblical World, W.W. Hallo and K.L. Lawson Younger, Jr., eds. (Leiden, 2003), 5–7.

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Thutmose I, Ahmose was endowed with (s¡ḥ m) numerous heritable land grants as “favours” (ḥ sw) of the king to celebrate his illustrious career. Grants consisting of “very many fields” eventually comprised a sizeable estate. These properties, including one of 5 arouras (“a portion (dnἰw) of fields”) in his hometown of Nekheb (el-Kab), reported twice, and 60 arouras in Hadja, along with many (foreign) male and female slaves (ḥ mw and ḥ mwt) to work the fields and seven awards of the gold of valour (nbw n ḥ swt), made him a wealthy man and the patriarch of a family of landholders.2 That Ahmose was endowed with (s¡ḥ m) fields puts his fields in the category of s¡ḥ w, allotted arable fields administered by the vizier’s office, often of small size, over which priests and other officials enjoyed usufruct during the Eighteenth Dynasty.3 It is likely that the fields were also šdw-fields: fields awarded by the vizier in the king’s name but subject to revocation for šdw were allotted to officials by virtue of their office or for services rendered, on the principle of usufruct.4 Although Ahmose’s fields were not tied to an office, they were awards for military service. The condition of usufruct implies that the ultimate owner of all land is the State; however, in the case of awards where there was no cause for revocation, the fields over time were accepted as comprising a permanent personal estate.

2  C.J. Eyre, “Feudal tenure and absentee landlords”, in: Grund und Boden in Altägypten (Rechtliche und Sozio-ökonomische Verhältnisse), S. Allam, ed. (Tübingen, 1994), 114–15; D. Lorton, “Terminology related to the laws of warfare in Dynasty XVIII”, JARCE 11 (1974), 57 on rewards system initiated by the Hyksos, copied by Egyptians. 3  Cf. Wb. IV, 21, 21–23; H.W. Helck, Materialien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Neuen Reiches, Part II (Wiesbaden, 1961), 258; D. Meeks, “Les donations aux temples dans l’Égypte du ler millénaire avant J.-C.”, in: E. Lipiński, ed. State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Conference organized by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven from the 10th to the 14th of April 1978. Vol. II (Leuven, 1979), 646 n. 185; E. Blumenthal, “Die Lehre für König Merikare”, ZÄS 107 (1980), 11 n. 69; G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier: Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom (London and New York, 1988), 186–87, 294. 4  F.Ll. Griffith, Hieratic papyri from Kahun and Gurob (principally of the Middle Kingdom) (London, 1898), pl. 22,39; 23,15; Cf. W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner I (Boston, 1965), 73; P.C. Smither, “A tax-assessor’s journal of the Middle Kingdom”, JEA 27 (1941), 75 (b); van den Boorn, 176, 179, 182, 185 (Section 10 R20), 186, 187–88 and n. 18, 190, 191, 263 n. 76, 316, 322, 380, especially 263 n. 76, over whether Ahmose’s fields were šdw-fields. C. Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis, fondateur de la 18e dynastie (Brussels, 1971), 86 notes that they could not be revoked. For šd(w) as designating a plot in the Iaru-fields, see Urk. IV, 116, 15 (Paheri).



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Since Ahmose son of Abana’s holdings were scattered over a wide area, the commander would likely have utilized local cultivators in addition to slave labour5 to work the land while he resided more comfortably in town. This would make Ahmose an absentee landlord who depended on family, slaves, and contracted labour to exploit his land profitably in separate parcels. Perhaps, like the Twelfth Dynasty mortuary priest (ḥ m-k¡) Hekanakhte, a very self-sufficient landholder, he also managed his holdings with minimal state interference.6 Thus, at the outset of the 18th dynasty, a pattern of landholding was clearly identifiable in which shares (psšt) in the estates of individuals who had received royal land grants as gifts from the king would be inherited without question by their heirs, from one generation to the next, as we see in the case of Ahmose’s wealthy grandson Paheri (see below), so long as the heirs were not delinquent in remitting the taxes owing on the land. This New Kingdom landholding pattern, early on documented with Ahmose son of Abana, has roots that in principle go back to the Old Kingdom grants of land to favoured officials for service to the State.7 The system we see in the New Kingdom acted to bind the State, owner, and workers together in a mutually advantageous relationship and comprised an essential feature of New Kingdom economic history.8 With the movement of veterans and their descendants into the agricultural economy as landholders, the involvement of the military, active and veteran, in landholding was guaranteed and incidentally gave political and economic stability to the countryside. This military stake-holding would continue throughout pharaonic history as rulers increasingly turned toward the recruitment of foreign

5   B. Menu, “Captifs de guerre et dépendence rurale dans l’Égypte du Nouvel Empire”, in: La dépendence rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdE 140, 2004), 187–209. 6  Eyre, Grund und Boden, 111, 115; B.F.F. Haring, “Access to land by institutions and individuals in Ramesside Egypt. (Nineteenth and Twentieth Dynasties: 1294–1070 BC)”, in: Landless and Hungry? Access to Land in Early and Traditional Societies. Proceedings of a Seminar held in Leiden, 20 and 21 June, 1996, B. Haring and R. de Maaijer, eds. (Leiden, 1998), 77; B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization. 2nd ed. (London and New York, 2006), 323. 7   K.B. Gödecken, Eine Betrachtung der Inschriften des Meten im Rahmen der sozialen und rechtlichen Stellung von Privatleuten im ägyptischen alten Reich (Wiesbaden, 1976); Pepinakht-Heqaib, for example, in Urk. I, 131–2. 8  Eyre, Grund und Boden, 114–15.

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mercenaries.9 This practice would reach its zenith in the Ptolemaic cleruchy.10 Valuable as it is, autobiographical documentation of landholding, such as we have in the case of Ahmose son of Abana, does not concern itself with details that explain how the system of land grants actually operated.11 We do not learn, for example, the source from which the king obtained the land he allocated to those whom he wished to reward or what the legal status of the land was prior to the award. Probably much of the land allocated to veterans following the termination of the war of liberation against the Hyksos was land that had been under Hyksos control, probably belonging to the estates of Hyksos overlords and their subordinates.12 Once confiscated by the Crown, these lands may have become royal lands, perhaps becoming royal ḫbsw lands. At the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, there were cultivable lands known as ḫbsw, “hoe(d)-lands” or “freshly acquired arable lands”, attested as early as Heracleopolitan times. While distinct from ¡ḥ (w)tfields and ḫntš-fields, ḫbsw fell under the general category of ἰḥ (w)t or “farmland”.13 In their Heracleopolitan incarnation, ḫbsw were lands that the Assiut nomarch Khety I had restored to cultivable status through irrigation projects.14 These lands are known from the “Duties

 9  H.W. Helck, “Militärkolonie”, in: LÄ IV, 135; D.B. O’Connor, “The geography of settlement in ancient Egypt”, in: Man, Settlement and Urbanism, P.J. Ucko, R. Tringham and G.W. Dimbleby, eds. (London, 1970), 695: the land at dispute in Mose’s lawsuit is of this kind. 10   J.G. Manning, Land and Power in Ptolemaic Egypt: The Structure of Land Tenure (Cambridge, 2003); D.J. Crawford, Kerkeosiris: An Egyptian Village in the Ptolemaic Period (Cambridge, 1971); D.J. Thompson, “Hellenistic science: its application in peace and war: 9c Agriculture”, in: CAH, The Hellenistic World, F.W. Walbank, A.E. Astin, M.W. Frederiksen, R.M. Ogilvie, eds., 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1984) Vol. VII, Part 1, 363–70; id., Memphis under the Ptolemies. (Princeton, 1988); S.L.D. Katary, “Distinguishing subclasses in New Kingdom society on evidence of the Wilbour Papyrus”, in: Élites et pouvoir en Égypte Ancienne, J.C. Moreno García, ed. CRIPEL 28 (2009–2010), 263–319. 11  On the Egyptian autobiographical genre, see comments of I. Shaw, “Battle in Ancient Egypt: the triumph of Horus or the cutting edge of the temple economy?” in: Battle in Antiquity, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (Swansea, 2009), 254. 12   Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis, 86. 13  W.C. Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum [Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446] (Brooklyn, 1955), 27–28; Helck, Materialien, Part II (Wiesbaden, 1961), 290–91; W. Schenkel, Die Bewässerungsrevolution im Alten Ägypten (Mainz am Rhein, 1978), 32–34; W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner I, 37; II, 32, 41; III, 19; IV 10 (Boston, 1965–69). 14  F.Ll. Griffith, Inscriptions of Siût and Dêr Rîfeh (London, 1989), V, 3, 7–8; H. Brunner, Die Texte aus den Gräbern der Herakleopolitenzeit von Siut mit Über-



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of the Vizier” where they fall under the jurisdiction of the vizier as “government-lands”, the ἰmy-r ¡ḥ wt being responsible for the survey of these royal fields some of which may have been under temple authority.15 They are not only known from the “Duties”, but also from the tomb of Menna (TT 69), who in addition to his title of “scribe of the fields of the Two Lands” was also “overseer of the arable fields (ḫbsw) of Amun”.16 The late Middle Kingdom P. Brooklyn 35.1446 suggests that ḫbsw lands were agricultural units that comprised more than simply fields as we infer from the expression “the wʿrt (department of the provincial administration) of the ḫbsw”.17 In the Brooklyn papyrus, stewards (ἰmy-r pr) were attached to these units just as they were to royal or elite estates, leading to the conclusion that such tracts were the personal property of the king or his family.18 Ordinary citizens were assigned to the ḫbsw to fulfil their corvée for the State. Thus, Hayes concluded that ḫbsw lands were “government-created and government-operated farms on which citizens of Egypt were periodically called upon to serve as statute laborers.”19 They may also have been a source for royal land gifts to individuals and institutions in the Eighteenth Dynasty. These royal lands may have been the Eighteenth Dynasty equivalent of khato-land (ḫ¡-n-t¡)20 or minĕ (mἰnt)-land of Pharaoh, so well documented in the Ramesside Period. setzung und Erläuterungen (Glückstadt, Ägyptologische Forschungen 5, 1937), 64; J.H. Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt. Vol.1 (New York, reissue 1962 of 1906 original), §407. 15   van den Boorn, Duties, 52, 127, 156 n. 43, 174 n. 3, 379 (4); E. Graefe, “Amun-Re, ‘Patron der Feldmesser’ ”, CdE LVIII/95 (1973), 39 n. 2. 16   Urk. IV, 746. 17  W.C. Hayes, “Notes on the government of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom”, JNES 12 (1953), 31–32. During the reign of Senwosret III, there was a major reorganization in the provincial administration of Upper and Lower Egypt wherein the power of the hereditary nomarchs was reduced and wʿrwt, or departments of the central government, were created. “Government department” is a better translation for wʿrt than “district” according to evidence of the Thirteenth Dynasty account papyrus Boulaq 18: A. Mariette, Les papyrus égyptiens du Musée de Boulaq. Vol. II (Paris, 1872); A. Scharff, “Ein Rechnungsbuch des königlichen Hofes aus der 13. Dynastie (Papyrus Boulaq Nr. 18)”, ZÄS 57 (1922), 51–68, pl. 1–24. 18  Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, 137. 19  Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, 29. 20  During the Old and Middle Kingdoms, this term referred to a measure of land: ḫ¡-t¡ var. ḫ¡-n-t¡, literally “thousand (of) land”, that is, 1,000 land-cubits (10 × 100) or 10 arouras. Although the term can still possess that meaning in the New Kingdom, as in P. Harris I 27, 12 (A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus. 3 vols. (Oxford, 1941–48) Vol. II, 166; F.Ll. Griffith, “Notes on Egyptian weights and measures”, PSBA 14 (1892), 410–20), there is an altogether new nuance wherein the term is used to refer to a

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Land confiscated from the Hyksos may therefore have become ḫbsw lands or other royal lands or alternatively placed in domains (rmnyt)21 of temples to which the king donated land. Such land may have also been given to favourites of the king. If plots awarded to veterans were derived from royal lands, or were situated on domains administered by temples, they may have remained incorporated into Crown or temple estates for administrative purposes, on the analogy of the fields of smallholders on domains of various temples and secular (Crown) landowning/administering institutions in Wilbour Text A from year 4 of Ramesses V.22 If this was the case, a third party was actually involved in the transfer of rights to cultivate the land when the king made an award of land to a loyal follower.23 Whatever the source of such land grants, while the property became a private holding over which the grantee enjoyed all practical rights of ownership, the “ownership” of land in ancient Egypt was different from what is understood today. “Ownership” of land denoted access to the land for purposes of cultivation as well as the right to the harvest of the land after taxes were rendered to the State.24 It did not mean, as it does in most Western societies today, title to the land as a private possession, safe from seizure by other interested parties at any time. This distinction may help explain the lack of information that clearly sets the physical boundaries of plots of individually held land as would be variety of royal land in many administrative documents, including the Wilbour Papyrus. Like the more obscure minĕ-land, it disappears from use as a term for a specific kind of royal land after the Ramesside Period as the concept of royal land undergoes gradual change down to the Ptolemaic Period (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 166 and 167 and in D. Meeks, Le grand texte des donations au temple d’Edfou (Cairo: BdE 59, 1972), 6 (note 9). See too B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households: Administrative and Economic Aspects of the New Kingdom Royal Memorial Temples in Western Thebes (Leiden, 1997), 319–20. 21   B.J.J. Haring, “Institutional agriculture and the temples in Ramesside Egypt”, in: L’agriculture institutionelle en Égypte ancienne: état de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires, J.C. Moreno García, ed. CRIPEL 25 (2005), 133 gives the following useful definition of rmnyt: “a continuous area under institutional supervision”—a mere book-keeping device that makes it possible to keep an account of claims on the harvest payable by other institutions or private smallholders. 22  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 79–84. 23  Helck, Materialien, Part II, (Wiesbaden, 1961), 275–87; Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 79; A.H. Gardiner, “Ramesside texts relating to the taxation and transport of corn”, JEA 27 (1941), 22–37, id., “A protest against unjustified taxdemands”, RdÉ 6 (1951), 115–27. 24  Ch. Eyre, “How relevant was personal status to the functioning of the rural economy in pharaonic Egypt?” in: La dépendance rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale, B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdE 140, 2004), esp. 168–69.



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expected if “ownership” meant the effective control of a specific plot of earth.25 This is consistent with land ownership in Egypt going back to the Old Kingdom.26 The narrow ancient Egyptian conception of private ownership makes it all the more possible that for administrative purposes private holdings did indeed remain upon the (apportioning) domains of temples and Crown. The rights of the individual holder were acknowledged but absolute control was not involved. Thus, it is conceivable that many private holdings, in the ancient Egyptian sense, were hiding in plain sight, invisible unless there was reason to draw attention to them as was the case with the Wilbour smallholdings (apportioning domains) where the harvest share owing to the State was calculated in a different way from that coming from collectively cultivated land (non-apportioning domains). Institutions themselves did not possess absolute control over the land in their domains for there was an ancient Egyptian version of the modern concept of expropriation. Temples possessed land by royal grant, but ancient Egyptian royal endowments were in fact donations that could be transferred by pharaoh at will to another recipient whenever he wished. Evidence for this is found in the rapid changes in the status of some khato-lands in the Ramesside Wilbour Papyrus when data of Text A are compared with data of Text B. Khato-land from Text B might be transferred to independent domains in Text A where there are non-apportioning paragraphs dedicated to their holdings. In other cases, temples may have lost fields to khato-land when they were not properly cultivated or left fallow.27 This could make for complications in the administrative status of private smallholdings since land granted to smallholders by pharaoh as a reward for valour might well have been situated upon an apportioning domain of an institution responsible for the payment of the smallholder’s taxes to the State. The domain upon which a private smallholding was situated might have been transferred from the management of one landowning/administering institution to another, affecting the book-keeping for the plot and the ultimate destination of revenues accruing from it, without affecting

 Eyre, BdE 140 (2004), 169.   The exception is Metjen’s plot of orchard land (Urk. I, 1–7), the earliest known privately owned plot the location of which is described in Eyre in: La dépendance rurale, 169; H. Goedicke, Die privaten Rechtsinschriften aus dem Alten Reich (Vienna, 1970), 5–20; Gödecken, Eine Betrachtung. 27  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 189, 210; Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 134. 25 26

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the smallholder’s rights of access to it or its harvest. While it is in no way indicated that a third party institution was involved in the case of the private holdings of war veterans such as Ahmose son of Abana and his heirs, that is not to say that a temple or other institution did not in fact play some role in administering the land and calculating the revenues due to the State without our being any the wiser. Smallholders in the Wilbour Papyrus who possessed plots situated on the domains of temples were often military men; virtually all ranks are represented. The plots are comparable in size to many of those received by the navy veteran and his fellows. Therefore, at least some and perhaps many of the Wilbour plots had been awards of land for valour, earned or inherited, for which the holdings of Ahmose son of Abana serve as a valuable precedent.28 Even though temples and secular (Crown) institutions played a role in collecting the State’s share in the harvest of individual smallholders in the Wilbour Papyrus, temple interest appears to have been residual and likely not intrusive in the lives of these private smallholders.29 Military personnel of foreign extraction settled on temple domains of Ramesses III could be, as Eyre suggests, part and parcel of a well-planned royal policy of settling foreign soldiers on his own endowment, though possibly also under even more direct Crown control under other institutions.30 Also unknown in the case of land grants such as those of Ahmose son of Abana and his descendents is how the State interacted with the grantee to complete the transaction with associated records or deeds, or how the new “owner” arranged to cultivate the land, i.e., who the actual cultivator was and how this was decided. Nor is it known how the harvest was divided amongst the parties involved. These details are not provided in any such historical account: not at this date or at any time in the New Kingdom in the case of land granted at royal behest to individuals. Tomb autobiographies mention the award of land along with other wealth simply to exalt the character of the tomb owner and not to explain the land tenure system.

28  O’Connor, Man, Settlement and Urbanism, 695; Eyre, Grund und Boden, 121, S.L.D. Katary, “Land-tenure in the New Kingdom: the role of women smallholders and the military”, in: Agriculture in Egypt: from Pharaonic to Modern Times, A.K. Bowman and E. Rogan, eds. (Oxford, 1999), 75ff. 29  Eyre, Grund und Boden, 121. 30  Eyre, Grund und Boden, 121. See P. Harris I 77, 4–8 and Helck, LÄ IV, 134–36.



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The story of land granted directly to temples and secular (Crown) institutions for their management suggests a tightly organized framework for agriculture for which there are records of endowments both by pharaoh and individual property holders later in the New Kingdom and during the Late Period. Since there are very many more documents dealing with the institutional cultivation of land than there are explicit references to individual smallholders, it appears as though institutional agriculture was the dominant agricultural regime and private smallholding a poor second. The kind of individual smallholding exemplified by Ahmose son of Abana and his descendants, as well as his well-known Twelfth Dynasty antecedents Hapdjefa, nomarch of Assiut, and Hekanakhte, farmer and mortuary-priest, would appear to have accounted for only a small portion of the cultivable land. However, we must factor in the possible over-emphasis upon institutions in the agricultural regime to the neglect of smallholding, especially in the Ramesside Period when the evidence of the Great Harris Papyrus (P. Harris I) and the Wilbour Papyrus, both massively long and detailed documents, not only strongly emphasize the prominence of temples and secular (Crown) institutions in agriculture but, in the case of P. Harris I, provide impressive figures for the extent of fields (¡ḥ wt) assigned by Ramesses III to temple administration, though principally that of his own mortuary foundation at Medinet Habu. These constitute altogether 1,071,780 arouras or approximately 2950 sq. km. (295,007.44 hectares).31 This amounted to some 13 to 18% of the cultivable land to which Ramesses III re-allocated 3.7 or 2.4% of the total population, in Butzer’s and Baer’s calculations respectively,32 to further agricultural operations. These figures led Römer to conclude that very little land would likely have been left for individual smallholders.33 However, as important as P. Harris I and the Wilbour Papyrus are for their sheer quantity of data and detail, they tell only a part of the story and leave much to speculation. The smallholdings of individuals

31   P. Harris I 67, 6 and 8: H.D. Schaedel, Die Listen des grossen Papyrus Harris: ihre wirtschaftliche und politische Ausdeutung (Glückstadt, 1936), 52; P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I. BM 9999. 3 vols. (Cairo, 1994–9), vol. 1, 89; Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 78. 32  Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, 1, 90. 33  M. Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten am Ende des Neuen Reiches: ein religionsgeschichtliches Phänomen und seine sozialen Grundlagen (Wiesbaden: Ägypten und Altes Testament. Studien zur Geschichte, Kultur und Religion Ägyptens und des Alten Testaments 21, 1994), 335.

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recorded in the Wilbour Papyrus likely represent but a small portion of the actual private holdings, far less than previously imagined, since the list of plots is by no means all-inclusive for the area. The remaining plots were likely located on temple or Crown administered domains that simply do not occur in this particular list. The smallholders of the Wilbour Papyrus provide a key to understanding the nature of land tenure in the New Kingdom and the relationships between and among temples, secular (Crown) institutions, and the Crown during the New Kingdom. Smallholding was likely a much more important component of land tenure than has previously been thought because we have focussed too narrowly and relied too much on the limited data of these two primary texts to speak for the situation in the country at large. The assessments on the plots of smallholders give rise to crucial questions concerning the structure of New Kingdom land tenure that will be explored below in an effort to expand understanding of the institutional framework of agriculture. During the New Kingdom, as in the Middle Kingdom, the chief coordinator of the king’s government with responsibility for myriad aspects of administration was the vizier, whose sphere of reference extended into nearly every branch of the state administration. By the middle of the Eighteenth Dynasty, it became clear that the burdensome role of the vizier was too demanding for a single person, and this led to the naming of a vizier for the North (Lower and Middle Egypt) and a vizier for the South (Upper Egypt) to split the responsibilities along a natural geographic divide. Accident of history has provided us with considerably more information about the southern viziers than it has those of the north, since texts from the tomb-chapels of four Upper Egyptian viziers dating to the mid-Eighteenth Dynasty— Amenwosre, Rekhmire, Amenemopet, and Hepu—include the king’s detailed instructions to his vizier upon his installation in office. The existence of an administrative hierarchy responsible for the smooth operation of the agricultural economy early on in the New Kingdom emerges from a close reading of the “Duties of the Vizier”, well-preserved in the Theban tomb of Rekhmire, vizier of the South under Thutmose III and his son Amenhotep II.34 The “Duties of the 34   Urk. IV, 1103,14–1117,5; Ph. Virey, Le tombeau de Rekhmara (Paris, 1889); P.E. Newberry, The Life of Rekhmara (Westminster, 1900); G. Farina, “Le funzioni del visir faraonico sotto la XVIII dinastia”, in: Rendiconti della Accademia dei Lincei. Classe di scienze morali, storiche e filologiche. Serie Quinta. Vol. 25 (Rome, 1916), 923–74, with



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Vizier” is a rich but sometimes ambiguous handbook to the vizier’s proper and authoritative role in civil administration. It enumerates the myriad aspects of civil government, including matters of civil order and security; the channelling of information to and from the king and the exchanging of reports with his top officials; the maintenance of central government archives; the posting and supervision of officials; the assessment and collection of various kinds of imposts and requisitions, including tribute from military campaigns and subject lands; the investigation of property claims with pertinent documentation; the monitoring of the inundation and other environmental concerns; as well as the guarantee of justice throughout the land through the impartial hearing of petitions. Since the Eighteenth Dynasty was a period when the office of the vizier had reached perhaps the pinnacle of its power in the day-to-day operation of the State,35 the vizier’s role as the direct deputy of the king and his involvement in policy-making in agricultural affairs are to be taken as the direct expression of the king’s will and therefore royal policy. Rekhmire was moreover the Overseer of All the Works of Amun and the Steward of Amun, offices that put him at the head of the administration of the Karnak temple of Amun in Thebes and likely other temples of Amun in Thebes, including the royal mortuary temples established and provisioned with staff, goods, and land for the funerary cult of the king.36 Although the title of Overseer of Works in the New Kingdom, usually associated with the building of major state monuments as a superintendant of public works, was usually, but not exclusively, associated with the vizier, other officials might exercise the office.37 The evidence of ostraca at Deir el-Bahri indicates that during the reigns of

plates A and B; R. Anthes, “Ein unbekanntes Exemplar der Dienstordnung des Wesiers”, in: Mélanges Maspero I. Orient Ancien (Cairo, 1935–38), 155–63; N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Rekh-mi-Re at Thebes (New York, 1944, reprint 1973); H.W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (Leiden and Cologne, 1958), 29–43; K. Kitchen, Ramesside Inscriptions I (Oxford, 1975), 290.13–291.10; T.G.H. James, Pharaoh’s People: Scenes from Life in Imperial Egypt (London, New York, Toronto, 1984), 62–67; van den Boorn, Duties. 35  S. Quirke, “Royal power in the 13th Dynasty”, in: Middle Kingdom Studies, S. Quirke, ed. (New Malden, 1991), 135. 36   T.G.H. James, Pharaoh’s People, 105; Haring, Divine Households. 37  W.C. Hayes, “Egypt: from the expulsion of the Hyksos to Amenophis I”, CAH, The Middle East and the Aegean Region c. 1850–1380 B.C. 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1973) Vol. II, Part 1, 359–60; C. Eyre, “Work in the New Kingdom”, in: Labor in the Ancient Near East, M.A. Powell, ed. (New Haven, 1987), 190.

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Hatshepsut and Thutmose III,38 in addition to Rekhmire,39 the Royal Steward Senenmut,40 the Minmose,41 the Benermer[ut],42 and the Treasurer Djehuty43 held this office. It is evident from this office alone that there was both great mobility and even competition at the very top of the state administration with officials able and willing to move from one office to another to acquire the necessary acumen to accomplish the work required. Through these various roles Rekhmire would have had in effect supervisory authority over the land cultivated by the temples as well as the Crown land he supervised as vizier, even though he bore no titles that specifically mention agriculture. Like any elite male, he had himself depicted in his own tomb enjoying the work in the fields, keen to observe the operations of the harvest. Though very poorly preserved, Rekhmire’s agricultural scenes likely depict his supervision of agricultural operations on his own estate, but they could just as well depict the supervision of Crown or temple land under his authority; it is impossible to be certain which estates were the subject of these depictions. Rekhmire is described in his tomb with such epithets as “he who fills the storerooms and enriches the granaries”, “praised of Nepri” (the grain god)”, and “praised of Ernutet” (the harvest goddess), but while these epithets cannot be taken too literally, they are consistent with participation in the agricultural affairs of both the civil administration and the administration of the “Estate” of Amun (pr ’Imn), even if at arm’s length.44 Both spheres were under his general administrative authority over Upper Egypt. In his role as primary deputy or representative of pharaoh and pharaonic authority, the vizier conducted a daily audience in which he conferred with his staff in order to receive reports, issue instructions, and question officials before they resumed their duties on his instructions. Thus, as the “functional extension” of the king’s power, the vizier gathered information from myriad sources flowing into his 38  W.C. Hayes, “A selection of Tuthmoside ostraca from Dêr el-Baḥ ri”, JEA 46 (1960), 38–39; Eyre, Labor in the Ancient Near East, 190. 39  Hayes, JEA 46 (1960), no. 17, 19, 20; Eyre, Labor in the Ancient Near East, 190. 40  Eyre, Labor in the Ancient Near East, §3, 2: 185. 41  Hayes, JEA 46 (1960), no. 2. 42  Hayes, JEA 46 (1960), no. 19. 43  W.C. Hayes, “Varia from the time of Hatshepsut”, MDAIK 15 (1957), 89–90. 44   James, Pharaoh’s People, 105.



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office and channelled this information to officials best qualified to act upon it. The morning meeting with the overseer of the Treasury (ἰmy-r ḫtm) was given top priority since this senior official was in charge of the royal accounts and the material assets of the king, including all operations pursuant to them, but not in all respects, since the vizier had lost some of his responsibilities to the ἰmy-r pr wr, the king’s Chief Steward after Amenhotep II.45 The vizier and his overseer of the Treasury exchanged reports from information each had received from his own subordinates, and they engaged in an exchange of questions and answers concerning the affairs of the pr-nsw (palace) and the ḫtmw. The doors were then opened to receive those who had business in the office of the vizier. The vizier would also open the House of Gold (pr-nbw) in the prnsw in his capacity of manager of the pr-nsw, but the overseer of the Treasury of Pharaoh was surely his co-manager and certainly equal here as is suggested by several contemporary documents as, for example, hierarchically arranged offering lists that enumerate the domains of both top officials consecutively.46 The vizier and the overseer of the Treasury also feature as the highest ranked officials in P. Louvre E 3226, a lengthy administrative document from the time of Thutmose III, though this is not conclusive evidence.47 This close association between the vizier and the overseer of the Treasury had implications for smooth policy-making in the allotment of royal lands to individuals and to institutions since the civil administration represented by the vizier and the Treasury were immediately at the disposition of the pharaoh on a daily basis with accountability guaranteed. The Treasury of Pharaoh also makes an appearance in the Twentieth Dynasty Wilbour Papyrus as a modest landowner/administrator in company with secular (Crown) institutions such as the Fields of Pharaoh, the Landing-Place of Pharaoh (Mi-wer, Keep of ‘Onayna, Hardai), the House of the Great Wife, minĕ-land of Pharaoh and khato-land of Pharaoh. The Treasury of Pharaoh is in charge of seventeen plots cultivated by individual smallholders. We will come   van den Boorn, Duties, 61; Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 81.   P. Vernus, “Omina calendériques et comptabilité d’offrandes sur une tablette hiératique de la XVIIIe dynastie”, RdÉ 33 (1981), 107–8, 113 [t]; joint directorship over construction at Deir el-Bahri (O.MMA Field no. 23001.50), cf. Hayes, JEA 46 (1960), 46. 47  M. Megally, Recherches sur l’économie, l’administration et la comptabilité égyptiennes à la XVIII e dynastie d’après le papyrus E. 3226 du Louvre (Cairo, 1977), 162, 278–81. 45 46

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back to the role of the Treasury of Pharaoh and the other secular (Crown) institutions later to show how they played an important role in the administration of agriculture long after Rekhmire’s time. In the context of agriculture and land tenure, the vizier would consult local land registers, checking and possibly adjusting them. The vizier’s office also had its own registers which were stored in the ḫnrt wr or “great prison”, a sub-department of the vizier’s office,48 possibly situated in Thebes near the pr-nsw, and therefore the vizier’s office. While the ḫnrt wr therefore served as a central archive, it also oversaw the activities of offices of the central administration all the way down to local levels, there being no evidence whatsoever of an intermediary “provincial” level to facilitate and supervise activities of the local echelons as had been the case in the late Middle Kingdom.49 Presumably, an intermediary provincial body (or bodies) came to be perceived as a threat to the control exerted by the central administration over local activities. Keeping the local authorities on a shorter leash tightened control at the top. The structure of civil government reflected in the “Duties of the Vizier” is consistent with the pattern one would anticipate in times of national unity when a strong central government with pharaoh at the head ensured that there was weak provincial leadership and participation in local affairs. Here the important term is the sp¡t or “towndistrict” which administered both urban centres (nἰwwt and ḥ wwt) and ww or adjacent rural areas (hence “rural districts”).50 Fields for cultivation would have been located in the ww and been supervised by members of the magistracy (ntyw m srwt), including councillors of the district (qnbty n w) in conjunction with overseers of the fields (ἰmy-r ʿḥ wt). These officials, together with the mayors (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) of the nἰwwt and ḥ wwt or urban areas and the settlement-leaders (ḥ q¡ ḥ wt), would have constituted the governing magistrates of the sp¡t. To some degree, the responsibilities of officials of the nἰwwt and ḥ wwt would have overlapped with officials of the ww. Just as councillors must have been occupied with hydraulic problems and other technical jobs in  S. Quirke, “State and labour in the Middle Kingdom. A reconsideration of the term ḫnrt”, RdÉ 39 (1988), 83–106. 49   van den Boorn, Duties, 325–26. 50   “Quarter, district, area” later in the Miscellanies: R.A. Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies (London: Brown Egyptological Studies 1, 1954) (hereafter Caminos, LEM), 351; 506, even “nome” in the technical Old Kingdom sense: van den Boorn, Duties, 261. 48



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areas adjacent to towns and overseers of the fields were responsible for the ww of town districts, so too mayors could certainly not divorce themselves from partaking in rural responsibilities (cf. section 16). Since we understand these officials to have functioned in tandem with overlapping responsibilities, the term w does indeed appear applicable to the land where the rural countryside abutted the town as van den Boorn notes.51 Thus, it seems as though the administration of land in rural districts under the vizier’s authority was delegated to the leading functionaries of the sp¡t: mayors, councillors, and overseers of the fields, working in close association with each other without any clear demarcation of tasks along a rural-urban divide. Under these officials came the scribe of the fields (sš n ¡ḥ wt) and the scribe of the mat (sš n t̠m¡) who would compose a council (d̠¡d̠¡t) (see below).52 Moreover, since the officials of the urban centres appear to have been limited in their authority to a single urban centre and did not enjoy authority over subordinates, who in turn governed clusters of townships, there is no evidence to contradict what appears to be the conspicuous absence of the middle level of civil administration. State control of land was direct, though always at a distance; communication was effected through personal contact and the bearing of messages, the effectiveness of the procedure under direct review by the vizier. The vizier would have been perceived as the essential administrator and indeed personal director for the agricultural administration, including such vital local issues as the control of irrigation.53 In fact, his subordinates (officials and their assistants) would have done the legwork in preparing judicial and administrative matters for his approval, for the vizier had neither the time nor the opportunity to

  van den Boorn, Duties, 328.  For scribe of the mat see: Smither, JEA 27 (1941), 74–78, esp. 75 l. 17; R. Engelbach and B. Gunn, Harageh (London: BSA 28, 1923), 32–33, here no. 3 fragment; Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 139; id., “Feldereinteilung und–vermessung”, in: LÄ II, 150–51; van den Boorn, Duties, 157–81, 327; B. Haring, “The Scribe of the Mat”, in: Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium AD: A Tribute to Jac. J. Janssen, R.J. Demarée and A. Egberts, eds. (Leiden, 2000), 129–58, especially 129 n. 1 for complete sources on scribe of the mat. For scribe of the fields see Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, 29–30; Helck, LÄ II, 150–51. 53  Ch.J. Eyre, “The agricultural cycle, farming, and water management in the Ancient Near East”, in: Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, J.M. Sasson, editor-inchief (Farmington Hills, MI, 1995) Vol. 1:175–89; id., “The water regime for orchards and plantations in pharaonic Egypt”, JEA 80 (1994), 57–80. 51 52

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track the cases from the beginning. But he would have exerted a substantial measure of control, under ideal conditions, by interviewing officials and their assistants personally and then checking and rechecking the documentation for each case presented for his consideration. As pharaoh’s direct deputy, the vizier would have been authorized to approve or disapprove the work of his staff in accordance with state policy for systemic balance and fairness. The use of the “Duties of the Vizier” as a guide to the operation of the civil administration in the Eighteenth Dynasty is based upon an early New Kingdom date for the composition.54 This is advocated in place of the common dating of the text to the late Thirteenth Dynasty, with the notable qualification of Hayes who took pains to emphasize that there was such great continuity in the vizier’s daily routine from the Middle Kingdom to the Eighteenth Dynasty that much of the content of Rekhmire’s inscription would have been valid in the New Kingdom in understanding the operations of the vizierate.55 To establish the date of the composition of the “Duties of the Vizier” in the early Eighteenth Dynasty, van den Boorn analyzes the so-called “New Kingdom Signature” by considering the text from the point of view of writing and language, titles of officials, factual content, and the general cultural and historical background. Several of the points raised relate directly to agricultural administration. The underlying verbal sense of ἰrἰ n in the sentence ntf ἰrr ḥ ¡k n sp¡t nb has been understood by Lorton as referring to persons and goods taken in battle and subsequent plunder so that here the spoils are being “assigned to” each district.56 The vizier is the logical candidate for the official who assigns spoils of war to individual sp¡wt. Early Eighteenth Dynasty evidence of the rewards to valorous soldiers of fields (¡ḥ wt) “in their town” (thus a rural environment) as spoils of war would argue in favour of sp¡t in the “Duties of the Vizier” being taken as an administrative district consisting of the town and adjacent countryside: hence “town district”. Although the spoils of war belonged technically to the king, the vizier redistributed them to

54   The vizier was associated with the ḫnrt or ḫnrt wr, which served as an extension of his administration. G.P.F. van den Boorn, “On the date of ‘The Duties of the Vizier’”, Orientalia 51 (1982), 369–70; van den Boorn, Duties, 333–76. 55  Hayes, CAH (1973) Vol. II, Part 1, 355. 56  D. Lorton, “Terminology related to the laws of warfare in Dynasty XVIII”, JARCE 11 (1974), 65. See too van den Boorn, Duties, 260 for additional references.



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worthy recipients such as loyal soldiers, officials, and favoured institutions. Ahmose son of Abana would have been one such person. If ntf were to be understood as king rather than vizier, as is suggested by Ahmose’s tomb autobiography, it would be perfectly comprehensible in light of his service to the king and also in the context of the “Duties” where the vizier acts for the king who in principle makes the award.57 Thus, the “Duties” links the award of private smallholdings to individuals with the vizier at the start of the New Kingdom and comes full circle in putting the civil administration headed by the vizier at the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty. The private smallholdings of the brave Ahmose were likely to have been derived from confiscated fields in the area of el-Kab, as also the awards given to each of his compatriots “in his town” or sp¡t.58 In the “Duties” we see how interchangeable the terms ¡ḥ t and ʿḥ t had become for describing a “parcel” or “plot” as is seen in the titles ἰmy-r ¡ḥ t and ἰmy-r ʿḥ t, the latter plainly in use in the early Eighteenth Dynasty as a specific but also neutral term for a “demarcated piece of cultivable land, plot” in contrast to ¡ḥ t “field”.59 So too there is the evidence of the construction of “the inlet-/outlet–channels (irt ʿ) in the entire country”, which adds a new and distinctly Eighteenth Dynasty feature to the agricultural regime in providing for the system of artificial irrigation to be carried out across the entirety of Egypt under the command of councillors of the district.60 Another distinctly Eighteenth Dynasty feature in the “Duties” is the reference to r sk¡ r šmw “to cultivate in the summer season (?)”, a phrase that may refer to summer cultivation and perennial irrigation, novel practices in New Kingdom

  van den Boorn, Duties, 263.   Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis, 86 n. 2 on the number of confiscations. 59   van den Boorn, Duties, 153ff., 337; see too Gardiner, JEA 27 (1941), 52ff.; Helck, Materialien, Part II, 240; B. Menu, Le régime juridique des terres et du personnel attaché à la terre dans le Papyrus Wilbour (Lille, 1970), 65–66 with n. 3; 76 n. 126; J.J. Janssen, “Prolegomena to the study of Egypt’s economic history during the New Kingdom”, SAK 3 (1975), 141; Berlev in A. Spalinger, “A redistributive pattern at Assiut”, JAOS 105 (1985), 8 n. 4; S.P. Vleeming, Papyrus Reinhardt: An Egyptian Land List from the Tenth Century B.C. (Berlin, 1993), 71–72. 60   van den Boorn, Duties, 238ff., 339; Meeks, Le grand texte, 63–64; K.W. Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt: A Study in Cultural Ecology (Chicago and London, 1976), 15–56; Schenkel, Die Bewässerungsrevolution, 30 n. 109; 33–34; 23; id., “Kanal”, in: LÄ III, 311; id., “Wasserwirtschaft”, in: LÄ VI, 1157–8; E. Endesfelder, “Zur Frage der Bewässerungen im pharaonischen Ägypten”, ZÄS 106 (1979), 43–45. 57 58

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agriculture.61 These features of the agricultural regime mark the text as (early) Eighteenth Dynasty and clearly relate the vizier’s office to the prevailing agricultural system in interrelated aspects of agriculture. The continuity in the vizier’s role to which Hayes refers is useful in hypothesizing a similar administrational system behind the acquisition, cultivation, and disposition of land by private individuals such as Hapdjefa and Hekanakhte who communicate so many useful details about their landholding even though they themselves date to the Twelfth Dynasty (see below). Thus, there is compelling evidence that a date of composition as early as the second half of the reign of Ahmose is indeed possible; moreover, that the text is “an offshoot of royal propaganda and represents a genre that remains unparalleled in Egyptian literature.”62 It is therefore possible to use the “Duties of the Vizier” as a guide to understanding the civil administration at the time when Ahmose was rewarding his loyal officers for their achievements on the battlefield. The chief features of the civil administration at this time, namely internal stabilization and reorganization following a period of civil war and weak government in the face of mighty military opposition by internal enemy states, suggest that the central government took a firm hand in administering the affairs of the rural countryside with its bounteous fields sufficiently fertile to feed all the people of Egypt. Land was allocated according to the program embraced by the king and administered ultimately, though from a distance, by his vizier in cooperation with the Treasury of Pharaoh and local administrators familiar with the locations of the parcels that could be allocated. With the war winding down, many veterans of both army and navy would have been settled throughout the length and breadth of the country with royal approval. So began the firm establishment of a cleruchal presence in the rural countryside as smallholdings of varying sizes were inherited by sons who then passed them down to their sons. Eventually there would be problems with the inheritance of some of these plots, and cases would 61   van den Boorn, Duties, 243ff., 339 with numerous notes on the word šmw; for “summer cultivation” cf. H.W. Fairman, “Review of Alan H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1941–48)”, JEA 39 (1953), 119; K. Baer, “The low price of land in ancient Egypt”, JARCE 1 (1962), 40 n. 98; id., “An Eleventh Dynasty farmer’s letters to his family”, JAOS 83 (1963), 2 n. 4; Janssen, SAK 3 (1975), 140; Butzer, Early Hydraulic Civilization, 46–50; Schenkel, Die Bewässerungsrevolution, 65–68; Vleeming, Papyrus Reinhardt, 119 n. 18. 62   van den Boorn, Duties, 375.



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come to the attention of the courts wherein the right to manage the estate after many generations had elapsed would have to be decided by judicial review. The Nineteenth Dynasty case of Mose, a descendant of the ship-master Neshi, who was presented a land grant as a reward for valour in the war against the Hyksos, is the best known example of a conflict among heirs over a land grant that was inherited over generations and eventually required judgement in court.63 Documentation of the tax payments of smallholders, stored in the archives of the Treasury of Pharaoh and the Granary of Pharaoh in Piramesse in the Delta, which established the smallholder’s right to the cultivation of the land and its harvest, were in this instance allegedly violated by one of the contesting heirs to the estate. Here, the updating of the registers proves that the Crown continued to maintain an interest in plots that had been granted to veterans, not only because they paid taxes to the Crown which had to be annually registered, but because these privately held fields may not have been entirely divorced from the administrative authority of the Crown. In the case of awards of fields and slaves granted on several occasions to Ahmose, son of Abana and the ship-master Neshi, it is likely that the relevant mayor, overseer of the fields, and councillor of the district all had a hand in the decision concerning how much land was to be awarded (depending no doubt upon the location), where exactly it would be situated, and therefore what would be the hydraulic and personnel requirements for its cultivation. It is probable that as in the case of the Middle Kingdom entrepreneur Hekanakhte,64 about whose farm operations we are fortunate to know so much, the day-to-day operations of the property would have been left to the smallholder, for most veterans would have been rewarded with plots varying in size from 5 arouras (perhaps the usual size for such grants) to 60 arouras, a large plot on the evidence of the Wilbour Papyrus, from the reign 63  A.H. Gardiner, Inscription of Mes: A Contribution to the Study of Egyptian Judicial Procedure (Leipzig: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und Altertumskunde Ägyptens IV, 3, 1905); G.A. Gaballa, The Memphite Tomb-Chapel of Mose (Warminster, 1977); S. Allam, “Some remarks on the trial of Mose”, JEA 75 (1989), 103–12. 64  H. Goedicke, Studies in the Hekanakhte Papers (Baltimore 1984), 31–32 proposes that some of Hekanakhte’s holdings may have been of the type described in Wb. IV 21, 21–23, the word s¡ḥ t with land determinative read by him in the phrase nty m s¡ḥ t in Letter II (33) where James and Baer read which is “in the neighborhood”, an idea Goedicke considers “too vague to be meaningful.” However, he interprets the land as being on lease as a qualification of the land’s legal status. Lease, however, is also indicated by the words m qdb, Letter I (4), cf. 49 (f).

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of Ramesses V some 400 years later, wherein military veterans play a significant role. Soldiers (wʿw) alone account for 12.0% of the plots detailed; stable-masters (ḥ ry ἰḥ ) account for 22.3%.65 It is likely that in awarding land grants, pharaoh drew largely upon land that had not yet been granted to temples, chapels, and officials of high renown. The source may well have been khato-land of Pharaoh, a fluid category of cultivable royal land well known from the Wilbour Papyrus and other Ramesside documents, as well as the Late Egyptian Miscellanies,66 as revenue producing agricultural land over which the king exerted all necessary control to grant to institutions or persons of choice or to retain indefinitely. Khato-land could be located on any temple domain and tilled on pharaoh’s behalf,67 its grain revenues shared with the administrative institution and the remainder of the harvest routinely handed over by governing officials to such authorities as the scribe of the royal Necropolis or the “chief taxing master” (ʿ¡ n št),68 as is clear from the Turin Taxation Papyrus (P. Turin 1895 + 2006)69 and P. Valençay I.70 The involvement of the central administration in the administration of agricultural land during the Eighteenth Dynasty is depicted in a number of tombs, including the handsome el-Kab tomb (EK3) of Paheri, scribe of the Treasury and mayor of Nekheb (el-Kab) and Iunyt (modern Esna), beginning in the reign of Thutmose I and lasting perhaps through the reign of Hatshepsut.71 The tomb sheds light upon the management of agriculture as reflected in Paheri’s myriad roles. As the grandson of Ahmose, son of Abana, Paheri inherited the estates of his father. As a member of the third generation of holders of estates derived from royal donations through inheritance, he was   Katary, Land Tenure, 300 (Appendix F).  A.H. Gardiner (1937) Late-Egyptian Miscellanies (Brussels: Bibliotheca Aegyptiaca 7, 1937) (hereafter Gardiner, LEM); Caminos, LEM. 67   Janssen, SAK 3 (1975), 183–85. 68   J.J. Janssen, “Requisitions from Upper Egyptian temples (P. BM 10401)”, JEA 77 (1991), 79–94. 69   P. Turin Cat. 1895 + 2006 in A.H. Gardiner, Ramesside Administrative Documents (hereafter Gardiner, RAD) (London, 1948), 36–44; id., JEA 27 (1941), esp. 23 and 24. 70  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 205f.; id., RAD, 72 and 73; id., RdÉ 6 (1951), 115–33. 71   J.J. Tylor and F.Ll. Griffith, The Tomb of Paheri at el Kab published in one volume with É. Naville, Ahnas el Medineh (London, 1894); Urk. IV, 111–123, translated in Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, Vol. 2, 16–21; J. Assmann, “Ancient Egypt and the materiality of the sign”, in: Materialities of Communication, H.U. Gumbrecht and K.L. Pfeiffer, eds. (Stanford, 1994), figs. 4–5, 20–24. 65 66



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able to distance himself from the military by establishing himself in the civil administration.72 The west wall of the main chamber of his tomb provides a scene in three registers that depicts Paheri in his official capacity as an administrator of agricultural operations, within his own district, overseeing the annual accounting of the herds, and the tribute of pharaoh’s gold, likely from the Eastern desert, in rings and bags of dust/ore.73 As the scribe of the grain accounts in the Treasury, responsible for a rural district as far north as Dendereh, Paheri refers to himself here as “he who acts and inspects the grain lands of the southern district.”74 As a mayor, he was one of many local authorities to have jurisdiction over an urban centre and adjacent rural land in association with settlement-leaders and overseers of the fields in accordance with Rekhmire’s description of the rural administration. He also had his own staff to attend to day-to-day administration. From evidence of the Wilbour Papyrus, we know that mayors, like prophets and overseers of cattle, were frequently in charge of (r-ḫt) both khatoland of Pharaoh and fields of the Harem of Pharaoh administered by the hand of (m-d̠rt) various subordinate officials. These fields were collectively cultivated by unidentified field-labourers. Paheri’s scenes of field-labourers ploughing and sowing the fields duplicate the painted scenes of the tomb of yet another scribe of the accounts of grain, Wensu, in his mid-Eighteenth Dynasty rock-cut tomb at Draʾ Abu el-Naga (TTA4), some 55 kilometres away: evidence of the repetitive character of agricultural labour in time and space as well as the use of pattern books for depicting similar scenes for officials overseeing essentially the same jobs.75 The land-workers carved in relief in Paheri’s tomb could be the cultivators of the estates he inherited from his grandfather or other estates acquired since then; however, they could also be land-workers on Crown land under his charge as mayor. The cultivators are not identified and work in groups. Although the labour is somewhat idealized and all workers appear willing despite some expected grumbling, they might conceivably include conscripted labourers, such as are encountered in the Middle Kingdom Kahun papyri with the status  For titles see Tylor and Griffith, The Tomb of Paheri, 5–7.   Tylor and Griffith, The Tomb of Paheri, 12–17, pl. III. 74  See too James, Pharaoh’s People, 107. 75  S. Wachsmann, Aegeans in the Theban Tombs (Leuven, 1987), 12–26; L. Manniche, City of the Dead: Thebes in Egypt (Chicago, 1987), 14–15, 30. 72 73

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of mrt, subject to the state corvée;76 however, there is no evidence that this is the case. The absence in Paheri’s tomb of any autobiographical prose narrative deprives us of knowing whether royal favour added lands to his estate in his own lifetime, as is possible, and if he did personally administer Crown land as is also very possible. Scenes from Paheri’s tomb depicting the loading of barges with emmer and barley in a splendid scene implying vast wealth and abundance recall the agricultural report of the scribe Pentwere in P. Sallier I, 4, 5–5, 4 (P. British Museum 10185) from the Ramesside Late Egyptian Miscellanies, dated to a year 1, probably of Merenptah (in rt. 8, 8), wherein Pentwere confidently addresses the chief of the recordkeepers of the Treasury of Pharaoh concerning his successful execution of his responsibilities as regards the cattle, horse-teams, reaping of grain, and loading of the grain upon barges for transport, all with regard to land identified as khato-land of Pharaoh under his authority.77 Scenes from the tombs of Paheri and Wensu depict such activities in vivid detail. The Treasury official alluded to in the P. Sallier I letter would have been one of the subordinates of the overseer of the Treasury whose reports went to the office of the vizier for his daily consultations with the overseer of the Treasury. The mayors’ reports also came to the attention of the vizier when he considered the affairs of the sp¡t and its nἰwwt and ww. Since mayors had an interest in the efficient cultivation of Crown land, if these individuals themselves did not actually cross paths, their reports certainly did. Similarly, P. Sallier I, 9, 1–9, 978 attests the involvement of a chief of record-keepers of the Treasury of Pharaoh in an agricultural context involving the allocation of 30 arouras of fields for the stable-master of the Great Stable of Ramesses-meriamun of the Residence after the

76  Griffith, Hieratic papyri from Kahun and Gurob, 52–54, pl. 21; Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom; see too S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom: The Hieratic Documents (New Malden, 1990), 155–86; J.C. Moreno García, “La population mrt: une approche du problème de la servitude dans l’Égypte du IIIe millénaire (I)”, JEA 84 (1998), 71–83; B. Menu, “Captifs de guerre et dépendence rurale dans l’Égypte du Nouvel Empire”, in: La dépendence rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale. B. Menu, ed. (Cairo: BdE 140, 2004), 187–20; J.C. Moreno García, “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle”, in: L’agriculture institutionelle en Égypte ancienne. État de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires, J.C. Moreno García, ed. (Lille: CRIPEL 25, 2005), 114–15. 77  Gardiner, LEM, xvii, 80–82; Caminos, LEM, 306–12. 78  Gardiner, LEM, 87–88; Caminos, LEM, 325–28.



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fields had allegedly been mistakenly given to the steward of the Mansion of King Usimare-setpenre in the House of Amun, the mortuary temple of Ramesses II. Among the varieties of fields from which the desired land was to be drawn were khato-lands of Pharaoh, minĕ-land of Pharaoh, as well as domain lands (rmnyt) of Pharaoh. Even though this Miscellany was a scribal exercise and therefore cannot be trusted in every detail, it certainly has verisimilitude.79 The letter suggests that by the time of Ramesses II, the civil administration, through the agency of the overseer of the Treasury, was involved in the allocation of land for cultivation to mortuary temples as well as Crown concerns, such as the Great Stable of Ramesses-meriamun of the Residence. The king was making available royal lands, of fluid status, set aside to provide revenue to the Crown, for allocation to institutions as he saw fit or as the need presented itself. We are reminded of the model of New Kingdom government well established under Rekhmire’s tenure by the clear instruction at the end of this letter that the transfer of property be officially documented in the “guise of an incontestable legal document (ἰpw h̠r ἰnb)”80 and recorded in writing in the Office of the Granary of Pharaoh. Since the Miscellanies had been in circulation for an indeterminate length of time, these activities and the cast of characters encountered could easily trace back to the Rekhmire model but still have been consistent enough with affairs in the reign of Merenptah in the Nineteenth Dynasty not to appear ridiculously out of date and old-fashioned for copying by young scribes. The Theban tomb of Menna (TT no. 69 at ʿAbd el-Gurna), the “scribe of the fields of the Lord of the Two Lands of Upper and Lower Egypt” and overseer of the ḫbsw-lands [of Amun] in the reign of Thutmose IV81 also details agricultural life under state authority in conjunction with the House of Amun at Karnak.82 Menna is assumed  Haring, Divine Households, 342–44, especially 343.  Caminos, LEM, 328 (9, 8) for ἰpw h̠r ἰnb: literally, “inventory under a wall.” See Gardiner, Wilbour II, 78 n. 5; T.E. Peet, The Great Tomb-robberies of the Twentieth Egyptian Dynasty (Oxford, 1930), 134 n. 2. 81  See Urk. IV, 746. Note that dating is disputed: see S. Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death in Ancient Egypt: Scenes from Private Tombs in New Kingdom Thebes. Trans. David Warburton (Ithaca and London, 2000), 85 n. 2. 82  No extensive monograph, but see C. Campbell, Two Theban Princes (Edinburgh, 1910), 85–106: hall in R. Mond, “A method of photographing mural decorations”, The Photographic Journal 73 (1933), fig. on p. 15 [upper]; MMA photos T. 805–7; PM I, 1, 2nd ed., 134–9; Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, 85–111; James, Pharaoh’s People, 84, 85, 104, 120, 122, 125–6. 79 80

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to have been a surveyor or archivist by training. His job made him responsible for the records of landowning and their produce in his jurisdiction. He would have assumed responsibility for the assessment of crops in the field and, ultimately, he would have been answerable to the vizier. Though one of his sons was a priest (wʿb), a second was a “scribe of reckoning of grain”, indicating further family involvement with agricultural administration.83 Many of the lightly painted and wonderfully detailed tomb scenes are devoted to the agricultural activities of Menna.84 A wide variety of events in ordinary agricultural life are depicted with extraordinary attention to the careful reproduction of real life: the earth being broken to receive the seed, flax rippled as the flaxcomb and linseeds cascade to the earth, fibres sorted for use in a variety of products, and grain cut down with finely polished sickles.85 A procession of scribes arrayed in fine white linen is attended by servants carrying all their necessary equipment.86 Also depicted at opposite ends of the scene are men who use a rope to measure the fields,87 while the deceased inspects the reaping, threshing, and winnowing. A tax-assessor’s journal of the late Middle Kingdom from Harageh (P. Harageh 3) indicates that the cadaster scribe supervised the work of subordinates: two scribes of the fields, a messenger of the steward, a rope-bearer, a rope stretcher, and a clerical assistant called the “scribe of the mat” (sš n t̠m¡ or tm¡).88 So too the scribes in the tomb of Menna are engaged in the measuring of fields preliminary to determining the share of the harvest due on the land at a time when the grain was ready for harvest. The elderly man who bears a w¡s sceptre and leans his hand on the head of a boy may be the “scribe of the mat” (sš n t̠m¡ with variant, chief scribe of the mat (ḥ ry sšw n t̠m¡) and “keeper of regulations” (ἰry hp)89 whose chief job was likely the verification of the surveyors’ work.90  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, 85.  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, figs. 53–61. 85  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 55. 86  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 59. 87  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 54. 88  Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 139; Smither, JEA 27 (1941), 74–76; Engelbach and Gunn, Harageh, 32–33, no. 3 fragment; B. Haring, Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium, 129–58, see n. 1 on sources; van den Boorn, Duties, 158–61, 327; Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom, 175. 89  Smither, JEA 27 (1941), 76. 90  S. Berger, “A note on some scenes of land measurement”, JEA 20 (1934), No. 1/2, 54–56, pl. X no. 4 depicts this old man from Menna’s tomb. See too the British 83 84



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The various Middle Kingdom references to the scribe of the mat, starting with Stela Leiden V 3 (year 33 of Senwosret I) dedicated by Antefoker, the “scribe of the fields (sš ¡ḥ wt) in the Thinite nome, Abydus”,91 tie in to the “Duties of the Vizier”, the latest dating document to give this office an exclusively agrarian context before it comes to have a definite judicial association in temple affairs and priestly courts.92 That the office of scribe of the mat still retains an agrarian context in the “Duties of the Vizier” fits with the interpretation of the scene of measuring and recording in the tomb of Menna. Menna’s tomb conveys a portrait of agricultural activities by a local official consistent with what is known from both Middle Kingdom texts and the “Duties of the Vizier” for the latter of which van den Boorn persuasively argues an early Eighteenth Dynasty date. Earlier roots are suggested by the understanding of “great prison” (ḫnrt wr) so well attested in Middle Kingdom texts,93 where it could be interpreted as a “labour camp” for the kind of corvée workers possibly employed by officials such as Menna and Paheri rather than more narrowly as a place of punishment for transgressors of the law.94 Menna’s tomb also includes a scene of men being called to task for having failed to carry out an obligation. One individual is prostrate as he is whipped; the other bows in an attitude of submission. These are likely tax defaulters: men who have failed to bring their quotas of produce to Menna’s subordinates.95 While peasants risked beatings for failure to pay their taxes, survey officials risked even more if they were remiss in their responsibilities or took liberties they should not; their own property could be confiscated.96 Interestingly, to the right of the scene with the surveyors,97 a man and a woman are depicted Museum fragment (BM 37982) for another depiction of the sworn official, holding a w¡s sceptre, authorized by the government survey department to oversee surveying work to ensure that all the tax revenues are paid in full (no. 2 in pl. X) in E.A.W. Budge, Wall Decorations of Egyptian Tombs Illustrated from Examples in the British Museum (London, 1914), pl. 7; see too Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom, 175. 91  Haring, Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium, 139. 92  Haring, Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium, 143, 145 referring to P. Berlin 3047 and P. Turin Cat. 2021 from the Nineteenth and late Twentieth Dynasties which involve temple personnel. 93  Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom. 94   Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom, 135–36. 95  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 60. 96  Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 138–39; see too the tomb of Rekhmire, Urk. IV, 1111, 8–13, in van den Boorn, Duties, 185ff. 97  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 59.

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approaching the surveying party with produce: the man (husband?) bearing bread shaped like a triangle as well as woven strands of grain and the woman (wife?) a basket and bowl with food stuffs that may represent their modest tax obligation, or, as James has speculated, a bribe to win favourable treatment or even a symbol of willingness to pay.98 That these offerings may be gifts has also been suggested.99 This is illuminating in two respects: these individuals may be smallholders and, as such, just possibly descendants of recipients of royal land grants. Since they bring their produce (gift, bribe, or symbol, however it is to be interpreted) directly to Menna’s men, they are not fieldlabourers who, judging by evidence of the Wilbour Papyrus, certainly would have had no direct contact with civil authorities. Menna was one of many local officials who were answerable to the vizier for the successful administration of the rural countryside (w). Though a relatively modest administrator, he enjoyed great authority in his role as a tax-collector under the vizier. What we do not know is whether the crops he was responsible for assessing were located on royal lands or possibly lands that had been already given to the temples by the king. While the administration of land by civil administrators receives some treatment in the texts of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth dynasties, reinforced by depictions in tombs going all the way back to the Old Kingdom, it is not until the Twentieth Dynasty that the first great documents appear that detail the convergence of Crown and temple interests in the administration of agriculture: P. Harris I (the Great Harris Papyrus) from the reign of Ramesses IV and the Wilbour Papyrus from year 4 of Ramesses V. P. Harris I and the Wilbour Papyrus provide documentation concerning the status of agricultural land and its administration from multiple perspectives. In keeping with the duty of the divine pharaoh to build and equip houses of eternity for his divine parents and provide them with all manner of luxuries, Ramesses III set out his benefactions to the temples of Egypt in P. Harris I, the final and greatest legacy of his reign.100 Of all the gifts granted to temples, none was as important as the   98   James, Pharaoh’s People, 85; PM I, 1, 2nd ed., 134, 2, four registers depicting agriculture; Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, fig. 59.   99  Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, 94. 100  W. Erichsen, Papyrus Harris I. Hieroglyphische Transkription (Brussels, 1933); Schaedel, Die Listen des grossen Papyrus Harris; Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I.



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agricultural land that enabled the temples to produce their own wealth. In setting out donations of goods, men, and land to temples throughout Egypt, P. Harris I not only verifies the pre-eminence of temples as landholders governing cultivation on vast tracts originating in Crown endowments, but also provides valuable quantitative evidence necessary to assess the land wealth of the temples, especially the primary recipient, the king’s own mortuary temple (ḥ wt) at Thebes.101 The total of 1,071,780 arouras (295,007.44 hectares), comprising some 13 to 18% of the available cultivable land allocated to the temples of Egypt, is indeed a massive figure that cannot be taken lightly.102 Evidence of P. Harris I suggests that temples were an integral component of the State, the king freely granting them all the material goods they required and many generous gifts beyond these in recognition for the legitimacy they provided the government.103 Thus, as Kemp noted long ago, temples performed a vital role in the economy both at a local level as the economic centre of a town and at the state level as a “ready-made self-sufficient unit”, able to administer royal khato-lands and thus serve interests beyond those of cult and religion.104 Even though the bureaucracies of temples and government remained tightly interconnected, the temples were able to retain control over their own production. The interrelationship of temples and government facilitated the conveyance of state wealth to enrich the temples. Flourishing temples were able to directly command the labour of large numbers of royal subjects to till the land in various arrangements under temple control. Haring calculated that to work fields of 864,168 arouras (2,382 sq. km.) donated to the Theban temples alone, 86,486 persons were allocated, a ratio of people to land of about 1:10, including agricultural workers and those assigned to all other responsibilities.105 Since the cultivators of temple lands themselves paid taxes to the State to provide a modest income for the temples, it can be said  Haring, Divine Households, 174–79, 188–9.  M. Römer, “Landholding”, in: The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, D.B. Redford editor-in-chief, Vol. 2 (Oxford and New York, 2001), 257; Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 77–78. 103  D. Warburton, State and Economy in Ancient Egypt: Fiscal Vocabulary of the New Kingdom (Freiburg/Göttingen, 1997), 300–2. 104   B.J. Kemp, “Temple and town in Ancient Egypt”, in: Man, Settlement and Urbanism, P.J. Ucko, R. Tringham and G.W. Dimbleby, eds. (London, 1970), 661–64, 666 and 667 cited in Haring, Divine Households, 20. 105  Haring, Divine Households, 175–76, 179; note that the ratio of people to land for Heliopolis is about 1:12; Memphis 1:3; other temples 1:7. 101 102

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that temples, general population, and the State were, at least in theory, interconnected in a mutually beneficial relationship.106 What remains undetermined, however, is the magnitude of the importance of temples in the ancient Egyptian economy and the agricultural system upon which it was based since we still lack a clear understanding of the economy as a whole.107 Some indications can however be gleaned from an examination of both P. Harris I and the Wilbour Papyrus and their relationship to each other and to other relevant contemporary and near-contemporary texts. The primary document for the administration of agricultural holdings by temples and secular (Crown) institutions is the Wilbour Papyrus from year 4 of Ramesses V, a lengthy document consisting of two related hieratic documents: the larger Text A and the smaller Text B, added later but composed earlier than Text A. Whereas Text A appears to be a land register (dnἰt?)—likely one of many regular registers—that details the measurement and assessment of a total of some 2800 smallholdings held by private possessors, as well as larger landholdings under temples and secular (Crown) institutions, described as located in a small area of Middle Egypt, Text B is concerned only with khato-fields located on temple estates and cultivated by agricultural labourers (ἰḥ wtyw) under the charge of supervisory officials. The two texts are linked by commonalities in the locations of their plots and in their sharing of some personnel. The purpose of the document appears to have been the recording of standard harvests on which to base a determination of the expected revenues in grain (šmw) owing to the State. The dates of assessment found in the headings of the four sections of Text A, from day 15 of the second month of akhet to day 1 of the third month of akhet (8 to 24th of July), suggested to Fairman that the document pertains to summer crops rather than winter crops in which case the crops would have been artificially irrigated on higher land.108

106   J.J. Janssen, “The role of the temple in the Egyptian economy during the New Kingdom”, in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Conference organized by the Katholieke, Universiteit Leuven from the 10th to the 14th of April 1978, Vol. II. E. Lipiński, ed. (Leuven, 1979), 505–15; Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 248–60. 107  Haring, Divine Households, 20. 108  Fairman, JEA 39 (1953), 118–23; but see J.J. Janssen, “The day the Inundation began”, JNES 46 (1987), 129–36, especially 136; Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 127 gives the dates as 7th to 23rd of July.



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The Wilbour Papyrus documents the vital role of temples as landowners and administrators during the Ramesside Period. Temples do in fact lead the list of landowning/administering institutions, preceding secular (Crown) institutions of all kinds, as well as royal lands, the subject of Text B.109 However, the document also underscores the prominence of the Crown as a major landowner both as the possessor of khato-fields in their own domains (Text A) and also situated upon the fields of a wide variety of temples (Text B). Certainly, during the Ramesside Period, agricultural production had become largely the concern of Crown and temple administrators operating in tandem. This regime appears to have continued to dominate the economy of the Late Pharaonic Period (ca. 1069–332) during the Third Intermediate, Saite and Persian periods as can be seen in the activities of temples in the collection of grain revenues (šmw) owing on a variety of landholdings.110 The organization of Text A into two kinds of paragraphs, nonapportioning and apportioning, divided into four sections that follow a north to south geographic orientation, corresponding to four consecutive periods of assessment, makes it possible to distinguish varieties of land tenure under institutional administration easily. Facilitating understanding is the arrangement of the paragraphs under the headings of groups of related or affiliated institutions: the House of Amun, the House of Re, the House of Ptah, followed by smaller local temples, and a very few secular (Crown) institutions. The arrangement gives rise to a host of questions concerning land administration. The non-apportioning paragraphs detail the collective cultivation of temple and royal estates, consisting of domains (rmnyt) divided into numerous fairly large plots worked by anonymous field labourers (ἰḥ wtyw) under a hierarchy of supervisory personnel (“normal domains” in the terminology of Haring,111 “non-apportioning” in the

 Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 127.   B.P. Muhs, Tax Receipts, Taxpayers, and Taxes in Early Ptolemaic Thebes (Chicago: Oriental Institute Publications 126, 2005), 2–3. Note too that throughout Egyptian history, temples were the recipients of much of the booty of Egyptian military activity. The king used this booty to maintain the temples and keep them in condition to be successful in their crucial administrative role. Real life battle in the New Kingdom, for example, had clearly pragmatic economic and political aims. Temple reliefs “inevitably reflected the religious and economic concerns of the priests” (I. Shaw in Lloyd, ed., Battle in Antiquity, 251). 111  Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 79. 109 110

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terminology of Gardiner).112 These individuals constituted the workforce of the institution and laboured to achieve maximum productivity on the land. At the top are officials, such as a steward or overseer of cattle, whose particulars follow the preposition r-ḫt “under the authority of ”, followed by lower level administrators heading domains, often scribes, rwd̠w, or ἰdnw, whose names are introduced by the preposition m-d̠rt. Finally there are the ἰḥ wtyw, low-level administrators who were the immediate organizers of the cultivation. Although routinely described as ἰḥ wtyw, they are neither field-workers nor smallholders, since the fields for which they are held accountable are far too large for a single individual to cultivate on his own behalf: 20, 30, even 50 or more arouras in some instances. Evidence of P. Turin A vs. 2, 2–9 where the ἰḥ wty is responsible for delivering 300 sacks and P. Bologna 1086 where the sowing order (t̠s-prt) of four men, including one youth, amounts to 700 sacks suggested to Stuchevksy that these individuals must be “agents of the fisc”, the only possible understanding of such high figures. Adding evidence of P. Berlin 10463 which details the responsibilities of a ἰḥ wty who clearly does not actually cultivate the land, Stuchevsky’s identification of the ἰḥ wtyw of the Wilbour non-apportioning paragraphs as “agents of the fisc” or “pseudo-cultivators” because of their primarily managerial role seems reasonable.113 Other persuasive evidence for ἰḥ wtyw having responsibility for the labour of groups of cultivators can be adduced from P. BM 10447, P. Louvre 3171, P. Amiens, and the Turin Taxation Papyrus114 and lends credibility to the concept of the ἰḥ wty as an “agent of the fisc” in charge of field-labourers who actually did the work, playing a role in the registration (sph̠r) and division of the harvest among interested parties. Thus, the Wilbour non-apportioning paragraphs identify by name the agents of the fisc who, it will be noted, sometimes bear other occupational designations such as rwd̠w, “controller”, “inspector” (so Amenemhab in A78, 28). The land cultivated under the non-apportioning regime is assessed at three rates 5, 7.5 and 10 measures of grain (h̠¡r) which can be identi Gardiner, Wilbour II, passim.  For references see J.J. Janssen, “Agrarian administration in Egypt during the Twentieth Dynasty”, BiOr 43 (1986), 354–55. 114  See references in Janssen, BiOr 43 (1986), 355. 112 113



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fied as the norms or quotas for production on three types (qualities?) of land: q¡yt: “high-lying” or ordinary land; nḫb: “fresh land”; tnἰ “tired” for t̠nἰ: “elevated (?) land”115 respectively, 5 sacks per aroura reckoned as the average or standardized harvest, probably for administrative purposes. This justifies the description of the Wilbour Papyrus as the record of standard harvests (gross yield) on the basis of which officials made their calculations of taxes payable to the State but intended for the maintenance of the institutions on whose lands the plots were situated. In the final analysis, on the basis of evidence of the corresponding Posh A and B entries that detail plots that were the subject of inter-institutional arrangements for shared cultivation, Stuchevsky determined that fields cultivated by anonymous ἰḥ wtyw and assessed at three separate rates, depending upon the type of land cultivated, were liable to pay 30% of the harvest to the authorities. The remaining 70%, Stuchevsky reckoned, was returned (at least in theory) to the workers themselves, but how it was allocated among them cannot be determined as it was of no interest to the author of the document and is not suggested anywhere else.116 The apportioning paragraphs detail the plots cultivated by private smallholders under institutional management on apportioning (“shared”)117 domains: a separate and distinct regime of cultivation from the “collective” style cultivation detailed in the non-apportioning paragraphs to which Stuchevsky found an analogy in the Soviet collective.118 Smallholding here involved the right of access to cultivable plots located on temple “apportioning (shared) domains” (šmw pš, rmnyt pš), plots that could be inherited, sold or leased to another party, often a fellow smallholder. This means that apportioned plots were privately held rather than leased to smallholders since the plots might easily remain in a family for generations as their own personal property so long as the family respected the claim of the administering institution to a portion of the harvest. While a family enjoyed these rights to the land, the administration of the plot(s) might conceivably pass from one institution to another as the holdings of various temples shrank or grew by royal fiat: older temples, especially mortuary temples, tending  Schenkel, Die Bewässerungsrevolution, 64.   Janssen, BiOr 43 (1986), 365–66. 117  Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 79. 118   Janssen, BiOr 43 (1986), 356. 115 116

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to lose land to newer institutions as they were created and required fields to comprise a significant estate.119 The likelihood that plots cultivated under an apportioning regime by smallholders were easily transferred from the charge of one institution to another as the need arose is a possible explanation for how the kind of land re-allocation documented in P. Harris I, with the gifting of huge amounts of land to the mortuary temple of Ramesses III, could have taken place without deleterious effect upon daily agricultural operations. It was, in effect, the claim on the revenue of the apportioned smallholdings that was being re-allocated rather than the land itself.120 Since it is unlikely that smallholders had any day-to-day business with the administering institution that would have mattered to the cultivation of the individual plots, they would have simply paid the requisite amount of their harvest to whatever institution exercised administrative authority over their land. The identity of the institution would however have mattered to the small farmer if his assessment rate on the plot went up with a change in management as will be seen below as we explore assessment rate. Of course, as far as we know, the smallholder likely had no choice but to accept a transfer. The difficulty in transferring land from non-apportioning domains, as argued by Haring, would hold only in the case that exceptionally small parcels were being transferred. This required the splitting off of only a portion of a non-apportioning domain, an awkward process, upsetting the allocation of resources to work the land efficiently.121 The prominence of the smallholders of the Wilbour Papyrus proves that despite the overwhelming dominance of the agricultural economy during the New Kingdom by institutional owner/managers, there was indeed room in the system for private smallholding in the ancient Egyptian context.122 Although the term nmḥ does not occur even once in Wilbour, the ¡ḥ t-nmḥ , which is well documented during the Late Period as the general designation for private land, may have its origins in the smallholdings of the Wilbour apportioning paragraphs where many smallholders might be judged to be of lower social and economic status. It is noteworthy that there is no particular term or designation  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 133–34.  Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 84. 121  Haring, Landless and Hungry? Access to Land, 84–85; id., CRIPEL 25 (2005), 133–34. 122  Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten, 334 and 335. 119 120



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that has come to light to refer to the plots of smallholders during the New Kingdom other than šdw in the Eighteenth Dynasty. However, by the Twenty-first or Twenty-second Dynasty, such a term emerges in the Griffith and Louvre Fragments (lines 12, 15, 19 in column XII), where smallholders of nmḥ -fields are encountered who may have their antecedents among the lower status Wilbour smallholders.123 These nmḥ w of the Late Period were individuals who appear to have held land which, while nominally belonging to Pharaoh and enumerated under the heading of the “Storage (ʿḥ ʿy) (?)124 of Pharaoh” (column 12, line 7), was theirs to cultivate without intermediary. They therefore paid their taxes directly to the Treasury of Pharaoh, if evidence of P. Valençay I to this effect is reliable.125 This evolution of smallholding is likely what made the coining of a new term or distinction necessary and desirable. Römer, however, is justified when he disputes Gardiner’s broad identification of the Wilbour smallholders with nmḥ w since nmḥ should probably be interpreted in the strict sense of “commoner” or “person of a low social status” rather than “free” (i.e., not “slave”).126 Wilbour indicates that by the Twentieth Dynasty smallholders of all stations in life enjoyed considerable freedom in the cultivation, transference, and inheritance of their fields. The wide range in social rank and prestige found among Wilbour smallholders, from royal prince to ḥ m, confirms that smallholding, with many advantages, was open to rich and poor alike in Ramesside times. The nmḥ w and ¡ḥ wt nmḥ w of the Third Intermediate Period likely ultimately derive from the Ramesside incarnation of smallholding, the legal parameters of their status evolving over time into an increasingly independent status vis à vis both the temples and the Crown.127

123  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 206; Menu, Le régime juridique, 132–34; Helck, Materialien. Part II, 262; id., Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Alten Ägypten im 3. und 2. Jahrtausend vor Chr. (Leiden – Cologne, 1975), 221; Janssen, BiOr 43 (1986), 363; A. Gasse, Données nouvelles administratives et sacerdotales sur l’organisation du domaine d’Amon, XX e–XXI e dynasties: à la lumière des Papyrus Prachov, Reinhardt et Grundbuch (avec édition princips des papyrus Louvre AF 6345 et 6346–7). 2 vols. (Cairo, 1988), I, pls. 15 and 16; Haring, Divine Households, 14, 293, 326–42. especially 339; see too excursus of H. Thompson, “Two demotic self-dedications”, JEA 26 (1941), 74–76. 124  Gardiner, JEA 27 (1941), 35; Helck, Materialien, Part II, (215). 125  Gardiner,  RdÉ 6 (1951), 115–24. 126  Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten, 412–51. 127  Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten, 416–51; Katary, CRIPEL 28 (2009–2010), 281.

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The fields described in the recto of the tenth-century Griffith and Louvre Fragments belong to the domains (rmnyt) of various institutions and include khato-land, donated land, and nmḥ -fields without distinction as to whether the fields belonged to apportioning (shared) or non-apportioning (normal) domains or whether, for that matter, they belonged to any institutional domain at all. The Will of Eueret from the Twenty-second Dynasty is the classic document to argue in favour of the evolution of the nmḥ into a smallholder of fully independent means, cultivating land that was to be distinguished from temple or Crown land and acquiring the status of a small independent farmer.128 Since khato-land in Wilbour Text A is routinely detailed in non-apportioning paragraphs and ḥ nk or donated land represents an anomalous type of apportioned plot in apportioning domains, both shared and ordinary domains may be represented in the Griffith and Louvre Fragments. It is possible that the designation ¡ḥ t-nmḥ here serves to identify fields cultivated by smallholders of non-elite status that in Wilbour occur in apportioning rather than (normal) nonapportioning domains. Here their owners appear to have broken free of temple management. The nmḥ was indeed an individual of lower social status but his land tenure was that of a private smallholder with attendant rights and privileges that may have exceeded those of his Ramesside antecedent and should be equated with the Coptic ⲢⲘϨⲈ and their land the ἰδιόκτητος γῆ of Ptolemaic times. The failure of pharaonic society to recognize the need for legal definition, recognition, and protection of the evolving rights of private ownership was not remedied until the Romans initiated the juridical concept of full private ownership after the Roman conquest at the end of the first century B.C.E.129

128  G. Legrain, “Deux stèles trouvées à Karnak en février 1897”, ZÄS 35 (1897), 12–16, 19–24; see too the Dakhleh Stela from the Twenty-second Dynasty which concerns mw-nmḥ y in the Oasis held by p¡ nmḥ independently of wells under pharaoh’s authority in A.H. Gardiner, “The Dakhleh Stela”, JEA 19 (1933), 19–30, pls. v–vii; I.E.S. Edwards (1982) “Egypt: from the Twenty-second to the Twenty-fourth Dynasty”, in: CAH, The Prehistory of the Balkans; the Middle East and the Aegean World, Tenth to Eighth Centuries B.C., J. Boardman, I.E.S. Edwards, N.G.L. Hammond and E. Sollberger, eds., 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1982). Vol. III, Part 1, 548; K.A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 BC). 2nd ed. with supplement and new preface (Warminster, 1996), §247. 129   J.G. Manning, Land and Power in Ptolemaic Egypt: The Structure of Land Tenure (Cambridge, 2003), 226–34; Thompson, CAH, 2nd ed., Vol. VII, Part 1, 369–70.



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Theoretically speaking, in the cooperative system of land administration described by Ramesside documents, orderly shifts of land from the administration of one institution to another could be expected to occur without fanfare or argument. In reality, the high priest of a mortuary temple losing land (or, more importantly, its revenue) to a newer establishment might be expected to contest the reassignment of property and work to preserve as much property and labour as possible under his institution’s administration. Losses in revenue and prestige would certainly result from the aggrandizing of one institution at the expense of another. We can infer such conflicts as inevitable from the above-cited Late Egyptian Miscellany P. Sallier I 9, 1–9, 9, detailing the granting of 30 arouras of land to the steward of a mortuary temple when it had been already assigned to a royal official directly under the king. The resolution of the conflict came from the chief of the recordkeepers of the Treasury of Pharaoh who ordered that the fields be restored from a wide variety of royal lands “provided they be untended (?) (nḥ ¡).”130 The situation described in the Miscellany, P. Bologna 1094, 2, 8–3, 5, in which the violent and tyrannical behaviour of a stable-master resulted in the abandonment of fields of minĕ-land of Pharaoh by fleeing field-labourers (ἰḥ wty), could also conceivably have come to pass during a transfer in the administration of fields that had not been accomplished in a smooth fashion, leading to labour problems among the workforce as workers refused to accept the authority of new administrators.131 While the new mortuary establishment of Ramesses V came to possess many apportioning fields,132 as Haring suspects followed the land endowment policy for new institutions, the mortuary temple of Ramesses IV had likely been in the meanwhile severely depleted of its revenues from apportioning domains even though its non-apportioning domains and their revenues seem to have remained curiously intact. There are indications of fields belonging to the mortuary temple of Ramesses IV being incorporated into the domains of the new mortuary temple of Ramesses V. In a paragraph heading (§62), a domain of the older temple is registered curiously as being “on the foundation (ḥ r sdf )” of the new temple and, elsewhere, an exceptionally large  Gardiner, LEM, 87–88; Caminos, LEM, 325–28, esp. 328 n. (9, 7).  Gardiner, LEM, 3; Caminos, LEM, 11–12; Gardiner, JEA 27 (1941), 22; Gardiner, Wilbour II, 78–79. 132  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 131–32. 130 131

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piece of property (50 arouras) of the mortuary temple of Ramesses V, held by a Sherden smallholder, is said to be situated in a “herdsman’s district (w-mnἰw)” of the mortuary temple of Ramesses IV (§123, A49, 4–5).133 These curious entries might denote transfers of property in progress and therefore not yet complete and are all the more odd because of the usurpation/continuation (?) of the building of the mortuary temple of Ramesses IV by his successor Ramesses V and the possibility that there may no longer have been two truly distinct institutions.134 That sdf does not occur elsewhere in Wilbour prevents any deeper understanding of the process of property transfer, institution to institution, and may suggest that a transfer in progress was not a common occurrence (presuming that a dnἰt, such as Wilbour surely was, was recorded periodically). As Haring suggests, it may be significant that such odd entries only occur with the temples of the reigning king and his immediate predecessor, an unimportant king with a short and undistinguished reign.135 Transfers of land were likely more easily accomplished on khato or minĕ-land of Pharaoh or other types of royal land under institutions he more directly controlled. Details of plot size and assessment in Wilbour apportioning entries indicate that although most of the plots were only 3 or 5 arouras in size, only a tiny portion of the plot was assessed at a uniform rate of 1½ sacks (h̠¡r) per aroura. The State therefore received only 1½ sacks from a 3 aroura plot with an assessed area of 1 aroura at the rate of 1½ sacks per aroura, which constitutes a mere 10% of the quota of the same size plot in a non-apportioning domain.136 The size of the average plot combined with the proportion of the harvest retained (as far as we know) by the smallholder was therefore sufficient to enable the smallholder to support his family comfortably.137 While the smallholder could manage well enough, the administering institution was receiving relatively little income. Apportioning domains made up of smallholdings were utilizing considerable temple land but producing small returns.138 Haring does not calculate the actual area in arouras for the apportioning domains because of difficulties in computation owing  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 60–61, 79, 117–18; Haring, Divine Households, 307–8.  Haring, Divine Households, 308; id., CRIPEL 25 (2005), 132. 135  Haring, Divine Households, 308; S.L.D. Katary, Land Tenure in the Ramesside Period (London and New York, 1989), 66 and 67. 136  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 128. 137  Eyre, Grund und Boden, 114 with n. 32 for details and references. 138  Haring, Divine Households, 414, tables 8 and 9. 133 134



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to the uncertain status of some fields and the applicable measurement unit, though this certainly can be attempted.139 Diminished income for temples as the result of smallholding is also suggested in the case of P. Harris I if a significant amount of land assigned by Ramesses III to the temples of Thebes and Heliopolis consisted of apportioning domains the income of which, from the temples’ point of view, was exceedingly small.140 Smallholding was likely not such a negligible component of the agricultural regime and was hiding in plain sight unless there was reason to direct attention to it. Wilbour tells us that smallholders occasionally possessed more than one plot. There are more than 160 instances of split holding (secure and probable cases as determined by the certainty of the identification of the smallholder) that account for more than 400 plots or approximately 18% of the Text A apportioned plots.141 While several of the individuals with multiple holdings are individuals of especially high rank or title (e.g., the high priest of Amun-Re at Thebes (ḥ m-nt̠r tpy), the high priest of Heliopolis, (wr m¡w “The Greatest of Seers”), and the overseer of the Treasury), most are what could be termed “ordinary” smallholders: for example, prophets, priests, and scribes. This figure of 18% makes split holding among smallholders a significant component of land tenure on institutionally managed apportioning domains. It is especially noteworthy that the split holdings of a Wilbour smallholder sometimes came under the authority of more than one institution. This suggests that the holdings were acquired in different ways and from different sources, quite likely on different occasions altogether. As in the well-known case of the Middle Kingdom mortuary priest (ḥ m-k¡) and farmer Hekanakhte, who claimed title to a variety of parcels spread out south of Thebes, dispersed over a number of villages, the plots may have been acquired through inheritance, through gift or sale, in payment of a debt, or as reward for services rendered, possibly veterans’ military service. That one smallholder could cultivate plots under the aegis of different institutions is testimony to the essentially cooperative rather than competitive character of institutionally managed agriculture at  See, however, Katary, Land Tenure, Appendix E for such an estimate.  Haring, Divine Households, 178. 141  S.L.D. Katary, “O. Strasbourg H 106: Ramesside split holdings and a possible link to Deir el-Medina”, in: Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium AD: A Tribute to Jac. J. Janssen, R.J. Demarée and A. Egberts, eds. (Leiden, 2000), 193–94. 139 140

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this time. We also know that a source of smallholdings was khato-land of Pharaoh, the fluid pool of Crown-owned but often institutionally managed lands available to both individual and institutional landholders at Pharaoh’s will, according to evidence of Text B that khatoland under a particular temple was formerly apportioned for a private smallholder in several instances (e.g., B11, 24, 25; 20, 18: wnw pš n PN “which were formerly apportioned for PN” identified in B11, 24 as the scribe of the Granary of Pharaoh Haremhab).142 Gardiner proposed that these plots became khato-land of Pharaoh on fields of the same temple when the smallholders, for some reason, “[relinquished] their tenancy of the plots.”143 The financial aspect of khato-land situated on the fields of temples and other institutions comes to light in both Text A and Text B of Wilbour. In Text A, khato-land is often the subject of the corresponding Posh A and B entries, an amount of grain equal to 7.5% of the harvest payable to the temple that took responsibility for the cultivation. Other plots of khato-land are the subject of their own nonapportioning paragraphs listed along with minĕ-lands at the very end of each section of Text A, where they follow the regime of collective cultivation, under agents of the fisc, as autonomous institutions. It remains to be established however whether these domains represent khato-lands that were once incorporated in temple domains as Haring speculates144 or whether these domains represent long-standing concentrations of khato-land into and out of which properties could be transferred to other institutions or individuals, including transactions involving donations and, at a later time, nmḥ -fields.145 Haring attempted to assess the importance of royal khato-land in the agricultural regime by calculating the extent of the khato property on fields of the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu, through a comparison of data of Texts A and B.146 From data of Text B, he estimated the yield on 1800 arouras of q¡yt-land and 43 arouras of nḫb-land as 675 sacks of grain, a figure that likely greatly exceeds the revenues produced by fields in the non-apportioning domains of

 Gardiner, Wilbour II, 59, 76, 182.  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 182. 144  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 134. 145  For nmḥ fields see Menu, Le régime juridique, 132–34; Römer, Gottes- und Priesterherrschaft in Ägypten, 412–51. 146  Haring, Divine Households, 325–26; Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 135. 142 143



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the temple, fields cultivated chiefly on its own behalf. This comes out to be about four times the revenue of the temple’s apportioning fields in Text A.147 These figures point to the likelihood that khato-land of Text B should be considered not only a significant component of the agricultural regime under institutional administration, but also a key factor in facilitating the changes that occurred in the distribution of land between and among institutions because its allotment was easily mandated by pharaoh, its ultimate owner. The ubiquity and flexibility of khato-land are key points in evaluating the assessment data of the Wilbour Papyrus and the role of the Crown vis à vis the temples as will be demonstrated below. In light of the importance of khato-land in the Ramesside agricultural regime, it is not surprising that it continues to be documented during the Third Intermediate Period as is clearly established by data of the Griffith and Louvre Fragments, P. Ashmolean 1945.94 + Louvre AF 6345, of tenth century BCE date.148 These fragments from a (likely) Twenty-first to Twenty-second Dynasty document detail the grain revenues forthcoming from domains (rmnyt) of various institutions from fields located in the tenth nome of Upper Egypt, in the vicinity of modern-day Qaw el-Kebir.149 The fields include khato-land (of Pharaoh) under the administration of various institutions, as well as donated land (ḥ nk) and ¡ḥ t nmḥ w. The administrative institutions recall those of the Wilbour Papyrus and P. Harris I and are enumerated in the same sequence. The fields are identified according to the type (quality?) of the land using the terms found in Wilbour (q¡yt and nḫb, with t̠nἰ appearing only in the verso) but with corresponding assessment rates that are just 20% those of the Wilbour Papyrus: 1 h̠¡r for q¡yt-land and 2 h̠¡r for nḫb-land. The system of cultivation governing the fields in the Griffith and Louvre Fragments may be comparable 147   That is, 182 sacks in Haring, Divine Households, 325–26, see too 326 n. 3 on calculations. 148  Gardiner, RAD, 68–71; Gasse, Données nouvelles, I, 3–73, pl. 1–31; II, pl. 78–98; S.P. Vleeming, review of Gasse in Enchoria 18 (1991), 217–27; Haring, Divine Households, 326–40; S.L.D. Katary, “The wsf plots in the Wilbour Papyrus and related documents: a speculative interpretation”, in: L’agriculture institutionelle en Égypte ancienne. État de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires, J.C. Moreno García, ed. (Lille: CRIPEL 25, 2005), 151–53, 152 for date with n. 74 references. 149   The date is problematic. This date is that of Vleeming, Enchoria 18 (1991), 221; id., Papyrus Reinhardt, 8 and 9. Gasse, Données nouvelles, I, 23 (1), 33 (51), 34 (57), 50, however, suggests the reign of Ramesses XI or the very end of the Twentieth Dynasty on the basis of the royal name.

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to that documented in Wilbour Text A but without any discernible distinction between apportioning and non-apportioning domains of the various governing institutions. It is conceivable that these fields were “apportioning” fields cultivated by smallholders who were “virtual owners” or “private possessors” of plots, with freedom to convey and dispose of them. The plots therefore may have been in the process of becoming ¡ḥ t nmḥ w as may have been the case with some earlier Wilbour smallholdings.150 The lack of distinction between apportioning and non-apportioning domains in the Griffith and Louvre Fragments does not, however, mean that collective cultivation came to an end with the close of the Ramesside Period. Quite to the contrary, the persistence of a collective system of cultivation as exemplified by the Wilbour non-apportioning paragraphs is indicated by data of P. Reinhardt, a fragmentary land register dating as much as 200 years after the Wilbour Papyrus.151 This document enumerates the yields of fields belonging to the Amun temple of Thebes, under the supervision of three distinct levels of administrators and cultivated by an institutional workforce in a system that recalls the domains of the Wilbour non-apportioning paragraphs and may have been derived from khato-land.152 What is noteworthy in Reinhardt, however, is the use of the terms ἰḥ t and ἰḥ t-bḥ to identify the fields in question, bḥ “corvée” clearly establishing the compulsory nature of the labour on many of the fields. It is clear that the agricultural system represented by the Wilbour Papyrus was in no danger of serious reorganization during the Third Intermediate Period, but there were changes in the organization of the labour force. Institutional agriculture during the New Kingdom clearly benefitted by donations of land and other property to temples in payment of ritual services to be conducted on behalf of the donor following his death. We trace this custom back to the Middle Kingdom with reference to the above-cited Twelfth Dynasty tomb inscription of Hapdjefa (I) of Assiut, a high priest of Wepwawet and of Anubis and a nomarch (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) in the reign of Senwosret I.153 This document not only details the   Janssen, SAK 3 (1975), 149; id., BiOr 43 (1986), 363; Haring, Divine Households, 339; Katary, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 151–52. 151   Vleeming, Papyrus Reinhardt, 8–9. 152   Vleeming, Papyrus Reinhardt, §§12, 18. 153  A. Erman, “Zehn Verträge aus dem mittleren Reich”, ZÄS 20 (1882), 159–84; Griffith, The Inscriptions of Siût and Dêr Rîfeh, pls. 1–9; G.A. Reisner, “The tomb of Hepzefa, nomarch of Siut”, JEA 5 (1918), 79–98; Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 159–62 150



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donation of land to a temple to provide for the establishment of a mortuary cult, it provides crucial data on income from landed property and makes a clear distinction between lands and their income possessed by virtue of an official role that was not alienable and income, consisting of lands, tenants, and cattle, inherited as a private individual from a paternal estate that was alienable. The testament of Si-mut, called Kyky, scribe and inspector of cattle in the stalls of Amun in the reign of Ramesses II, is a Ramesside example of the transfer of land from private to temple control in order to secure a personal benefit. This contract with the temple of Mut, inscribed on three walls of Si-mut’s Theban tomb (No. 409), provides for his care in old age, his funeral, and his mortuary cult in the absence of immediate family to attend to these responsibilities.154 Despite the poor preservation of the lower part of the inscription, it is clear that this benefaction, and others like it, gave temples control over private property that excluded more distant relations of the donor from any possibility of inheriting from the estate.155 The possible legal ramifications of the transfer of private land to institutional cultivation can be seen in P. Berlin 3047, a poorly preserved record of a lawsuit dating to year 46 of the reign of Ramesses II. P. Berlin 3047 documents the transfer of the administration of private property to a temple of Mut. The plaintiff Neferabet is a contestant in the dispute concerning rights to the private family estate and the income from the fields under a profit-sharing arrangement providing for a one-third share in the yearly harvest. The transfer of the land to and 210–11; A. Théodoridès, “Les contrats d’Hâpidjefa”, RIDA 18 (1971), 109–251; H. Beinlich, “Djefai-hapi I”, LÄ I, 1105–7; Spalinger, JAOS 105 (1985), 7–20, full bibliography 7 n. 1; Eyre, Grund und Boden, 123–24. 154  M.A.-Q. Muhammed, “Two Theban Tombs. Kyky and Bak-en-Amun”, ASAE 59 (1966), 157–84, pls. I-CVII; J.A. Wilson, “The Theban Tomb (No. 409) of Si-Mut, called Kyky”, JNES 29 (1970), 187–92; P. Vernus, “Littérature et autobiographie. Les inscriptions de S¡-Mw.t surnommé Kyky”,  RdÉ 30 (1978), 115–46; J. Assmann, Ägyptische Hymnen und Gebete (Zurich and Munich, 1975), 374–78, No. 173; H. Brunner, Religionsgeschichtliches Textbuch zum Alten Testament (Göttingen, 1975), 63–65; B. Menu, “Note sur les inscriptions de S¡-Mwt surnommé Kyky”, RdÉ 32 (1980), 141–44; M. Negm, The Tomb of Simut Called Kyky: Theban Tomb 409 at Qurnah. (Warminster, 1997); Hodel-Hoenes, Life and Death, 227–40. 155   J.J. Janssen and P.W. Pestman, “Burial and inheritance in the community of Necropolis workmen at Thebes (P. Bulaq X and O. Petrie 16)”, JESHO 11 (1968), 137–70; P.W. Pestman, “The law of succession in ancient Egypt”, in: Essays on Oriental Laws of Succession, J. Brugman et al. (Leiden: Studia et documenta ad iura orientis antiqui pertinentia 9, 1969), 58–77; Vernus, RdÉ 30 (1978), 115–46; Menu, RdÉ 32 (1980), 141–44.

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the temple guaranteed a regular income for someone loath to take on the responsibilities of farming the land personally.156 Such a transfer of property had benefits to the parties involved since the temple wanted control of the land and had the expertise and personnel needed to ensure the best results in its cultivation. Believing that they too had a stake in the property, other family members would naturally oppose the transaction if they themselves did not also benefit from it. These and other documents detailing arrangements by means of which individual landholders turned their property over to the management of temple estates for their own personal benefit testify to the potential increase in the land wealth of institutions at the expense of private smallholdings during the New Kingdom and into the Third Intermediate Period. Yet another form of land donation in an institutional context is evidenced by the Wilbour Papyrus. There are in Wilbour the so-called “donation” entries that likely reflect the donations of plots of cultivable land by wealthy private persons to the cults of royal statues. There are 37 plots among the apportioned plots in Wilbour identified as “Land donated (ḥ nk) to the god(s) of Pharaoh” (28 cases of nt̠r, 9 cases of nt̠rw), which are described as being under the authority of (r-ḫt) individuals identified as a military officer, a civil administrator, a scribe or a priest. Gardiner believed that the ḥ nk entries were related to four non-apportioning paragraphs (§§71–74)157 dedicated to the holdings of “the god (nt̠r) of Usima´re-meriamun” (Ramesses III), which are intercalated near the end of the Theban series of institutions in Section II between the House of Haremhab in the House of Amun (§70) and the Eighteenth Dynasty Mansion of King ʿAkheperen(?)re in the House of Amun (§75), the last of the Theban institutions before the Heliopolitan series begins at §76. Gardiner saw the paragraphs as related to those dedicated to the domains of the sšm-ḫwἰ (Gardiner’s “Tabernacle”, also “Protected Image”) of Usimaʿre-meriamun (Ramesses III) in Section III (§§141–43), located just before the Heliopolitan series begins but following a wrongly placed provincial temple

156  H.W. Helck, “Der Papyrus Berlin P 3047”, JARCE 2 (1963), 65–73, pls. 9–12; Baer, JARCE 1 (1962), 36–39; A. Théodoridès in Recueils de la Société J. Bodin 41—Les Communautés rurales, II, 28–42; Katary, Land Tenure, 223–25; A. Erman, “Beiträge zur Kenntniss des ägyptischen Gerichtsverfahrens”, ZÄS 17 (1879), 71–76 and pl. I; Helck, Materialien, Part II, 263–64, 271–73; Eyre, Grund und Boden, 118–19, 121. 157  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 17, 86f., 111ff.



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(§140) inserted at the end of the Theban series. Also of interest is the “Tabernacle (sšm-ḫwἰ) of Pharaoh, LPH” in §235 in Section IV, placed just before the beginning of the Heliopolitan series following a misplaced local temple in §234. Gardiner concluded on the basis of the locations of all these paragraphs and evidence of P. Harris I (11, 1–3), as well as a study of Nelson,158 that they all refer to “one and the same cult-object, namely the sšm-ḫw of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu.”159 This, Gardiner surmised, would have been a statue of the king fashioned in some peculiar combination with the god Amun-Re. Quoting P. Harris I (11, 1–3): “The tabernacles, statues, and groups (ἰb-ἰbw) to which the officials, standard-bearers, controllers, and people of the land contributed, and which Pharaoh placed upon the foundation (sdf ) of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods, for (him to) protect them and defend them to all eternity: 2,756 gods, making 5,164 persons”.160 Gardiner understood the “gods of Pharaoh” of the ḥ nk entries to be wayside royal statues surrounded by fields, donated by high officials or prophets in charge of the foundations, an idea in accord with the inscriptions of the mostly late dating donation stelae set up by private donors, wherein the king appears as the dedicator because of his royal right to alienate property.161 The real dedicators would be the very persons who in Wilbour are said to be in charge of the fields. The sšm-ḫwἰ named in P. Harris I are described as gods and may have been cultstatues that received private endowments on the sdf (endowment) of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods at Karnak. Statues are also called nt̠rw, leading Gardiner to assume that the “god of Usimaremeriamun” (of §§71–74) is the same as the “Tabernacle” (sšm-ḫwἰ) of Ramesses III. For Haring, however, although the “protected image” (sšm-ḫwἰ) of Pharaoh in §235 refers to a statue of Ramesses III on the basis of corresponding Posh A and B entries that identify the sšm-ḫwἰ as that of Ramesses III, it cannot be proven that this cult image and the cultimage called “god” (nt̠r) in §§71–74 are indeed one and the same, especially in light of the use of the term sšm-ḫwἰ for the image of the 158  H.H. Nelson, “The identity of Amon-Re of United-with-Eternity”, JNES 1 (1942), 127–55. 159  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 17. 160  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 17. 161  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 17, 112 with n. 4.

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god Re in §78, another paragraph of Section II.162 The choice of two different terms for “statue” would indicate that two different things were intended. He further questions Gardiner’s identification of the domains of the “god” of Ramesses III with the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu163 by pointing to the likelihood that the domains of §§71–74 were separate domains with high officials as their founders that had no connection to the mortuary temple of Ramesses III, either personally or through subordinates. Even the Posh entries in §§73 and 74 with their corresponding ḥ nk entries go against Gardiner’s interpretation. Nevertheless, donated land, for whatever cult or purpose, was a component of land transfer and management that must be taken into account. In the broader context of institutional landholding, the cults of royal statues played a role, albeit a relatively minor role, during the Ramesside Period. This is evident in the number of plots and relatively small area of land these plots comprise. Moreover, that plots comprising the domains of “the god of Usimaʿre-meriamun” (§§71–74), the Tabernacle/Protected Image (sšm-ḫwἰ) of Usimaʿre-meriamun, LPH” (§§141–43), and the Tabernacle/Protected Image (sšm-ḫwἰ) of Pharaoh (§235) are all non-apportioning and the ordinary ḥ nk entries are always found in apportioning domains indicates that the institutional management of plots that constituted donations of land was not standardized from an administrative and fiscal point of view. Donation entries, interspersed as they are throughout Text A, are most strongly associated with the mortuary temple of Ramesses V: 11 ḥ nk entries or 29.7% of the 37 ḥ nk entries. The institution with the second highest frequency is the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu with 10 of the 37 ḥ nk entries or 27.0%. The mortuary temple of Ramesses II accounts for 3 ḥ nk entries or 8.1%. These three mortuary temples altogether account for 64.8% of the ḥ nk entries. One Heliopolitan temple, the Mansion of Ramesses-meriamun in the House of Re, is also important (5 ḥ nk plots or 13.5%). The high correlation with mortuary temples, especially those of Ramesses III and Ramesses V, and a Heliopolitan temple with the name of Ramesses III, reveals how donations of land to the cult of the reigning king, as Pharaoh is no doubt to be interpreted here, could be incorporated into a variety of

 Haring, Divine Households, 313.  Haring, Divine Households, 313–14.

162 163



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institutions, most frequently with royal association and therefore of greater accessibility to the Crown.164 There are occasional annotations in Text B in red ink that describe khato-land as m ḥ nk (B6, 29; 15, 1.3.28), only one occurrence providing the name of the alleged donor (B15, 1: “in (as) donated (land) of the mayor Dhutmose”). This involvement of a mayor in the disposition of khato-land of Pharaoh traces back to the role of mayors, councillors, and overseers of the fields in the functioning of the sp¡t with responsibility for an urban centre and adjacent rural land as learned in the “Duties of the Vizier” and seen in the activities of Paheri. Evidence of the Wilbour Papyrus indicates that mayors, like prophets and overseers of cattle, were frequently in charge of (r-ḫt) both khato-land of Pharaoh and fields of the Harem of Pharaoh. Does this unusual notation in Text B suggest that the khato-land referred to in this entry was not a donation of fields belonging to the mayor Dhutmose in his own right but rather the transfer of khato-land of Pharaoh from one mayor’s authority to another’s (the mayor Muimwese in the heading of §11), the transfer possibly perceived as a kind of “donation” since mayors administered khato-land for the king? If so, this seems to be an odd choice of terminology for a transfer but we have no relevant terminology elsewhere. In support of this idea, other peculiar annotations in Text B refer to khato-land “(as) ḥ nk to the god of (?) the Sherden” . . . (B13, 20) and simply “(as) ḥ nk 20, making 10” (B18, 28), suggesting that the transfer of khato-land from one royal estate to another was likely perceived as an “in house” transaction. This terminology links these annotations to the ḥ nk entries in Text A because they too concern land donated to the cult of a royal statue, the god or gods of Pharaoh, the source of which was likely an official of some wealth and status. Such plots became property of the Crown because they involve royal statues even if there is no mention of khato (or minĕ) land or any other kind of royal domain. What is the history of the dedication of land to the statue of pharaoh that lies behind the curious Wilbour paragraphs and ḥ nk entries? Just at the dawn of the New Kingdom, the story of institutional landholding unfolds with the uncovering in 2009 in the el-Kab tomb of Sataimaou (no. 1) of an autobiographical scene—one of the very earliest of the New Kingdom—decorating the south wall of the niche   Katary, Land Tenure, (n) 119.

164

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where Sataimaou, “the wʿb priest and scribe of Horus Behedety, the ḥ nky priest (‘he who offers’) of Nebpehtyre (Ahmose I)” receives many favours from the king for the benefit of the great royal statue (twt) of millions (of years) of the Majesty of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Nebpehtyre for which he is the personally appointed officiant.165 These gifts consist in part of 10 (?) arouras of low-lying land (ḫrw) and 30 arouras of high-lying land (q¡yt), the statue endowed in perpetuity with all kinds of supplies and lands necessary to its cult by royal decree recorded in the temple of Edfu. The royal statue was placed in a hall of the temple and identified with an inscription as that of Ahmose. This early Eighteenth Dynasty endowment of a cult of a royal statue is a precursor to different kind of temple endowment that occurred later in the Eighteenth Dynasty. The Steward of Amun Senenmut under Hatshepsut instituted a private endowment of land to the temple of Amun at Karnak as well as to the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahri.166 The donations recorded on a stela in a chapel near the temple of Mont at Karnak included land previously awarded to Senenmut by royal favour. Eight arouras of land were donated to the temple of Amun (at Karnak?) together with a slave and a slave-girl; 5 arouras were given to the mortuary temple of Hatshepsut in return for offerings to be delivered to the funerary cult of Senenmut. Similarly, the autobiographical inscription of the chief steward of Memphis, Amenhotep-Huy, son of Heby, inscribed on a quartzite statue of the steward (Ashmolean Museum no. 1913.163), is an account of the many gifts he made to the statue of Amenhotep III in his Memphite mortuary temple.167 Included among the gifts are 430 arouras (some 118 hectares) of cultivable land and slaves to provide a workforce. For his gifts, Amenhotep received a portion of the daily offerings from the temple of Ptah to be offered to the cult of the king’s new statue and from there to Amenhotep’s own tomb in a “reversion” of offerings.168 Many but not all such donations have a mortuary character. An

165  W.V. Davies, “La tombe de Sataimaou à Hagar Edfou”, Égypte, Afrique et Orient 53 (2009), 25–40, esp. 33–36. 166   PM II, 2nd ed., 17, H; L.-A. Christophe, Karnak-Nord III (1945–1949). Fouilles Conduites par C. Robichon (Cairo, 1951), 86–89, pl. XV; H.W. Helck, Historischbiographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und Neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 1995), 122–26; Haring, Divine Households, 143–44. 167  W.M.F. Petrie, G.A. Wainwright, and A.H. Gardiner, Tarkhan I and Memphis V (London, 1913), 33–36, pls. 78–80, lines 22–23; R.G. Morkot, “Nb-m¡ʿt-Rʿ-United with Ptah”, JNES 49 (1990), 323–37; Haring, Divine Households, 142–43. 168  Haring, Divine Households, 142.



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endowment to a temple drawn from a personal estate was intended to secure future benefit for both parties in the form of offerings that often applied to the next life of the donor, all the while greatly enriching the temple recipient. Most often the recipient temples were the newer institutions, especially flourishing temples of the reigning king which ensured financial stability all around.169 Centuries later, in the reign of Ramesses II, P. British Museum 10447 provides an account of the fields that supplied grain annually to the great statue of Ramesses-meriamun, possibly as the gift of a rich official.170 Still later, the Wilbour Papyrus provides details that do not exist elsewhere to place the donations of cultivable land to royal statues in the context of institutional landholding as a whole where the players are civil administrators and high officials with the clout to manage/transfer land to Crown control via royal cults that earned the donors royal favour and the recipients considerable land wealth. Further statistical analysis of the data of the Wilbour Papyrus will advance understanding of the institutional management of agricultural land and contribute to solving the difficult problem so painstakingly explored by Haring more than a decade ago in his monumental work on the royal memorial (mortuary) temples: the meaning of the phrase m pr + divine name, and specifically, m pr ’Imn.171 The sequence of the temples mentioned in Texts A and B of Wilbour follows that of P. Harris I. First listed are temples associated with the main Theban temple/cult centre, second are temples associated with the main Heliopolitan temple/cult centre, third are temples associated with the main Memphite temple/cult centre, and finally smaller or often less wellknown temples dedicated to various deities. Temples associated with Thebes, Heliopolis, and Memphis are identified with the phrase m pr + divine name (’Imn, Rʿ, Ptḥ ) as an element in the full or expanded name of the temple, with the translation “in the House (Estate/Domain?) of Amun/Re/Ptah”. In the case of Theban royal mortuary temples, the phrase m pr ’Imn is as much a part of the name as it is in the case of the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods at Karnak. Studies of the identifying phrase focus on the phrase m pr ’Imn largely because Theban temples constitute the largest and wealthiest family of temples and  Haring, Divine Households, 155.  S.R.K. Glanville, “Book-keeping for a cult of Ramesses II”, JRAS no. 1 (1929), 19–26, pl. 1; W. Spiegelberg, Rechnungen aus der Zeit Setis I (Strassburg, 1896), 77; Gardiner, RAD, 59; Gardiner, JEA 27 (1941), 58–60. 171  Haring, Divine Households. 169 170

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include the royal mortuary temples of Ramesses II, Ramesses III, and Ramesses V which received large royal donations. Temples with the extensions “in the House of Re/Ptah” or even “Beloved like Re/Ptah” have received far less attention. The most common interpretation of the phrase m pr + divine name among Egyptologists today involves an administrative or legal interpretation; the phrase is not perceived as simply a term of religious/ cultic affiliation. Kemp’s identification of the “estate of Amun” as a cultic ensemble comprising the Theban temples and the processional routes connecting one with the other is a departure from more conventional interpretations.172 Helck’s understanding of m pr + divine name as indicative of economic dependence or administrative control relates the phrase to the word sd̠f¡ or sdf derived from sdf¡ “to feed”, also “foundation” “provision”, and might refer to the supplying of one institution by another with essentials including manpower and stock.173 Menu points to the use of the term the “House of Amun” in place of the expanded version “House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods” and suggests that the emphasis is on a material understanding (material dependence?) rather than a religious one.174 The evidence of Third Intermediate Period documents that pertain to the “Domain of Amun” have been interpreted by Gasse as constituting a “hierarchical complex of Theban temples”.175 These would include satellite temples, that is, intermediary temples of the Karnak temple mentioned in the Griffith and Louvre Fragments.176 Kessler’s suggestion that the supraregional god Amun headed a state domain (pr) comprising the temples (rw-prw) of the local god Amun, where a kind of incorporation bound the temples together in a compact, is also to be considered but remains vague.177 Morkot expands the discussion by bringing up the Nubian

172   Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 266, fig. 97, 274; see too M. Mallinson, “Excavation and survey in the Central City, 1988–92”, in: Amarna Reports VI, Occasional Papers 10. B.J. Kemp, ed. (London, 1995), 205 in contrast to the many authors cited in Haring, Divine Households, 30 n. 3. 173  Helck, Materialien, Part I, (8) and (9). For sd̠f¡ and sdf see Gardiner, Wilbour II, 116–18; Haring. Divine Households, chap. VI, §3, 169–73. 174  Menu, Le régime juridique, 8. 175  Gasse, Données nouvelles, 170, 175, 176, 217, 223, 224, 235. Cf. S. Allam, “Review of Annie Gasse, Données nouvelles administratives et sacerdotales . . .”, CdE LXX (1995), 139 and 140. 176  Haring, Divine Households, chap. X, §5, 328–32. 177  D. Kessler, Die heiligen Tiere und der König (Wiesbaden, 1989), 46–52; see too S. Bickel, “Les domaines funéraires de Thoutmès IV”, BSEG 13 (1989), 25.



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temples that remained a part of the pr-domains of Amun, Re, and Ptah despite their distance from the mother centres of Thebes, Heliopolis, and Memphis.178 Finally, Haring himself expresses doubts about the administrative incorporation theory applied to m pr ’Imn.179 There are other indications of the existence of fiscal ties between and among institutions belonging to a greater “domain”. The Amiens Papyrus and its other half Papyrus Baldwin evidence the joint operations of Theban temples in shipping grain owed as tax to the Theban granaries for reception by the authorities there.180 Haring cites Eighteenth Dynasty inscriptions that also reveal the dependence of some temples upon the main local temple as indicated by the inscription on the above-cited statue of the chief steward Amenhotep in the reign of Amenhotep III.181 This is the earliest occurrence of the expression ḥ r sd̠f¡ “for the provision (?) of ”. Haring also cites lists that detail the distribution of incense to Theban temples by the Treasury of the Karnak temple of Amun.182 Haring concludes that in spite of such evidence, from the end of the Eighteenth Dynasty, the material dependence that Helck presumed with respect to the royal mortuary temples expressed in the phrase m pr ’Imn is no longer viable.183 The ties of these temples to the temple of Amun at Karnak that can be identified in the Ramesside Period are economic and ritualistic in character but do not indicate economic dependence.184 Haring also notes that while grouped under the temple of Amun at Karnak in P. Harris I and the Wilbour Papyrus, the Theban temples of Mut, Khonsu, Ptah, and Mont are never described with the phrase m pr ’Imn and yet are no less dependent upon the Treasury of Amun according to the evidence of Eighteenth Dynasty incense lists. Since various connotations can be ascribed to the word

 R. Morkot, JNES 49 (1990), 328–30.  Haring, Divine Households, 31–32. 180  Gardiner, JEA 27 (1941), 37–56 and J.J. Janssen, Grain Transport in the Ramesside Period: Papyrus Baldwin (BM EA 10061) and Papyrus Amiens (London: Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum VIII, 2004). 181  Statue Ashmolean 1913.163. See note 167 above and also Haring, Divine Households, chap. VI, §3, 169 (a). 182  Haring, Divine Households, chap. 4 §4, 134ff. 183  Haring, Divine Households, 32. 184  So R. Stadelmann, “Tempel und Tempelnamen in Theben-Ost und—West”, MDAIK 34 (1978), 173; B.J.J. Haring, “The economic aspects of royal ‘funerary’ temples: A preliminary survey”, GM 132 (1993), 46 and 47 (C); id., Divine Households, chaps. II and III for transfers of offerings. 178 179

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“pr” “house”, depending upon the context, it is necessary to seek some tangible evidence of the kind of inter-institutional relationship that is conveyed by the phrase m pr ’Imn (m pr Rʿ and m pr Ptḥ similarly). Gardiner was certainly incorrect in claiming that the phrase m pr ’Imn emphasized the location of the temples at Thebes,185 the institutions so identified being located as far afield as Nubia.186 The question then comes down to whether it is correct to assert that temples so far flung geographically were not part of an administrative domain that had its centre in one of the major cult centres187and involved some kind of dependency upon or at least nominal acquiescence to the fiscal policies of the primary cult centre. This in turn influenced their own fiscal operations. The possibility that the phrase m pr + divine name is to be understood primarily as having administrative implications, where some dependency (or even inter-dependency) is implied, can be investigated by examining the application of the phrase to the temples documented in the Wilbour Papyrus where there is quantitative data for analysis. Haring’s analysis of the phrase m pr ’Imn in the context of royal mortuary temples and their relationships with other temples needs to be widened to discover whether there is any evidence that has not yet come to light that may illuminate the understanding of the phrase m pr ’Imn.188 A statistical study of the Wilbour apportioning paragraphs that analyzes the quantitative variable assessment rate (“assratio” in tables) calculated on the plots of smallholders provides insight by offering another perspective from which to view the controversial word “pr” as it qualifies groups of temples (m pr ’Imn, etc.). The assessed portion of the plot divided by the size of the plot gives an assessment rate that can be analyzed in various ways. Institutions can be taken individually or grouped according to the general categories: Theban, Heliopolitan, Memphite, Other (Temples), and Secular (Crown). It is also possible to compare cult temples, mortuary temples, and secular (Crown) institutions. These data can be submitted to a one-way analysis of variance where the mean assessment rate for each institution,

185  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 134, §64: “. . . those words helped to emphasize the location at Thebes.” This could, however, be correct in some administrative contexts. See too Allam, CdE LXX (1995), 139 and 140. 186  Morkot, JNES 49 (1990), 329 and 330. 187  Haring, Divine Households, 33. 188  Haring, Divine Households, 33.



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institutional group or type of institution can be compared with those of the other institutions, groups, and types of institutions in order to determine whether the differences attested are statistically significant and therefore indicative of real differences between and among these institutions, their respective groups, and classes. If there are statistically significant differences, the variation in the means cannot be the result of pure chance and must reflect an underlying economic reality. The variable Institutional Group will be calculated in two ways. First, by following the grouping of institutions in Wilbour (as well as Harris): temples of the Theban group come first, followed by those of the Heliopolitan group, and then temples of the Memphite group. Temples of the group “Other” follow these three main groups. There are however occasional intercalations of temples that clearly are listed in the wrong places. The second method of classification will take all temples with extensions such as “Beloved like Re”, “Beloved like Ptah” or a known close association with a temple group (e.g., House of Mut, the Great, Lady of Ishru/Ashru associated with Karnak) and place them in appropriate categories labelled Theban Related; Heliopolitan Related; and Memphite Related. This provides a test for the phrase m pr + divine name: to see how the means of the groups are affected by the elimination of these temples. A comparison of the two sets of data will reveal the degree to which an affiliation to the main cult centre differs from a “direct” relationship as expressed in the phrase m pr + divine name. Looking first at the institutional groups with all temples related to one of the main groups counted in, it immediately stands out that the plots of smallholders on land belonging to or assigned to secular (Crown) institutions for management, including the Fields of Pharaoh (¡ḥ wt Pr-ʿ¡), the Treasury of Pharaoh, Landing-Places of Pharaoh (Hardai and the Keep of ‘Onayna), and the House of the King’s Wife, were subject to an assessment rate with a mean of 9.2743% with a minimum of .63% and a maximum of 50.00%. This turns out to be a relatively low mean in comparison with the following statistics for the mean assessment rate of the other institutional groups: Theban Group 12.2789%; Heliopolitan Group 12.4959%; Memphite Group 14.1111%; and Other (temples) 11.5398%. The differences between the mean assessment rate for secular (Crown) institutions and those of all of the other groups of institutions are statistically significant, meaning that it is not by mere chance that the plots under the charge of secular (Crown) institutions were assessed at rates with a range and frequencies that produce such

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a low mean rate of assessment. A strategic plan was perhaps operative here under the direction of the Crown/State to establish a reasonable range for the assessment of the plots of smallholders that underlies the means of the assessment rates of the temple groups we observe. While the end results are clear in the mean assessment rates (and associated statistics) generated in the distribution of assessment rate, the logic that led to these results remains obscure. Large temples were of course a very powerful component of the largely agricultural economy and, like the globally recognized phenomenon of Walmart, could afford to charge lower rates than they actually did because their volume was so high. The Crown, on the other hand, had relatively few smallholdings under secular institutions and, as well shall see, these were not institutions well-equipped with agricultural expertise. Royal khato or minĕ-land was usually collectively cultivated, but not always under the administration of temples. When these royal lands were cultivated in autonomous domains as in Wilbour Text A, no smallholding was involved unless it was the subject of Posh arrangements. Therefore, the secular (Crown) institutions analyzed here were not charged with khato-land but with other property of Pharaoh. They recognized their inability to match the expertise of temple conglomerates with lowered rates, while temples, keeping an eye on the bottom line, often allowed profit to speak more loudly. While the second lowest mean rate of assessment among the institutional groups is that of the group Other (temples other than those of the Theban, Heliopolitan and Memphite groups), the difference is striking nevertheless: 11.5398% where the range extends from .42% to 25.00%. Temples of this group are often very small or obscure (for example, the House of Har-min and Isis: one plot, 0.0%), but include some temples that while not well known, account for a great many plots among the totality of apportioned plots registered in Wilbour Text A: for example, the House of Sobek-Re, Lord of Anasha (111 plots, 4.9%) and the House of Heryshef, King of the Two Lands (also 111 plots, 4.9%).189 The differences between the mean of temples of the group Other and those of both the Secular (Crown) Group, which is really low, and the Memphite Group, which is really high, are statisitically significant. However, the differences between this mean and those of the Theban and the Heliopolitan groups are not statistically significant,   Katary, Land Tenure, Appendix F 298.

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since the mean of the group Other temples is much closer to the (albeit higher) means of both the Heliopolitan and Theban groups. The Memphite Group has notably the highest mean assessment rate: 14.1111% with a range from 2.50% to 33.33%. The minimum assessment rate is the highest of the four groups but the maximum is lower than that of the Theban group (high at 66.67%). The differences between the mean of Memphite Group’s data of assessment rate and those of all the groups, with the exception of Heliopolitan, are statistically significant. This means that there is a commonality between the Memphite and Heliopolitan groups despite some differences in their distributions: their data are essentially homogeneous. There are some possible explanations of the means that should be examined to assess the impact they have upon the statistics obtained. At first glance, it would seem likely that the statistically significant differences between means reflect differences among the land values of the plots, the highest quality land incurring the highest assessment rates. That however would suggest that temples of the Memphite Group controlled land of the highest calibre when in fact Memphite temples consistently stand third to the Theban and Heliopolitan groups in both P. Harris I and Wilbour: third in priority as reflected by sequence and third in land wealth and endowments as reflected by the amount of land in both texts and numbers of personnel allocated in Harris. Both texts give priority to temples of the Theban group, especially the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu. Since Wilbour dates later than Harris, it naturally also puts great emphasis upon the mortuary temple of the reigning monarch, Ramesses V, in both the number of plots as well as the area of land under the control of this temple. This is easily understood historically and politically. What is known about the land values of the smallholdings in Text A? The logical way to examine land value is to use a variable of land quality or variety. The measurement lines of the apportioning entries mention two distinct types of land discussed by Gardiner: ἰdb (“riparian land”? Wb. I, 153, 2ff.) and pʿt land (Wb. I, 504, 2).190 Q¡yt-land does occur occasionally in Text A measurement lines but may refer specifically to land standing higher than the surrounding land (i.e., as a landmark). From Text B, it appears that q¡yt land refers to ordinary arable land in contrast to nḫb (fresh land) and tnἰ (t̠nἰ “elevated  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 26–27; Helck, Materialien, Part II, 293.

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land?”) land. These last two, so important in the scheme of assessment in non-apportioning paragraphs and in Text B, are not mentioned in the apportioning entries.191 While a preliminary analysis of assessment rate on ἰdb and pʿt has already been executed, it is wise to add q¡yt land and other less frequently occurring descriptions of land (e.g., island (ἰw), meadow land (š¡), new land (m¡wt), flooded land (ḥ ¡yt), basin (h̠nm) land, and the unknown mšrw) to the analysis to see what means are obtained for all descriptions of land in the measurement lines of the Text A apportioning paragraphs and integrate this material with data from both the non-apportioning paragraphs and the Griffith and Louvre Fragments where ἰdb and pʿt also occur. This analysis is currently underway. It is most likely that the mean assessment rates obtained for the institutional groups reflect the assessment rates justified by the income generated from the land the institutions controlled that would warrant higher assessment rates for temples that were demonstrably lowerranking in income from both recent royal donations and lands already registered to them as is established by data of both P. Harris I and Wilbour. These statistics suggest a need on the part of Heliopolitan and especially Memphite temples to acquire more income from the land they controlled under cultivation by smallholders—and therefore revenue-producing—than was the case with the richer Theban temples—the Walmart of temple groups. The number of plots and the area involved tell part of the story; whereas the assessment rates, particularly as revealed by the descriptive statistics for the assessment rate and a one-way comparison of the means, add another dimension to the picture that has been hitherto missed. This is indeed evidence for evaluating the well-known ranking of the three groups of temples, Theban, Heliopolitan, and Memphite from P. Harris I and the Wilbour Papyrus. Since the evidence of wealth and status indicated in these documents is consistent with the data of assessment rate, we come to assume that richer temples could, in theory at least, have afforded to demand a lower return on their smallholdings. The rankings of the three groups based upon mean assessment rate is completely consistent with both Harris and Wilbour. Ranking lowest to highest means we get the sequence Theban, Heliopolitan, and Memphite. The mean assessment rate is the best statistical confirmation of this sequence that  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 27–28, 178ff., 185, 198; Fairman, JEA 39 (1953), 120–23.

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we have anywhere to date. Temples of the group Other are a mixed lot and as such come after the temples of the three major groups in both P. Harris I and Wilbour. They cannot be easily generalized. However, these were local temples; they would have enjoyed local support which certainly, at least in a few cases such as the House of Sobek-Re, Lord of Anasha (111 plots, 4.9%) and the House of Heryshef, King of the Two Lands (also 111 plots, 4.9%), resulted in an impressive landholding profile. There is yet another angle to examine. Although we know nothing of the system by which smallholders’ plots were assigned in the midTwentieth Dynasty, we cannot exclude the possibility that there was some competition among the temples to attract the most competent and reliable smallholders, especially if the smallholders were high officials, the recipients of awards of land or if their descendants stood in good stead in their tax payments. In this scenario, temples of the Theban group perhaps saw value in offering the best terms to smallholders as reflected in the temples of the Theban group recording the lowest mean assessment rate followed closely by the Heliopolitan group, there being no statistical significance for the difference between these two means. The Memphite Group mean stands out, of course, as significantly higher than that of the Theban Group. This scenario is derived from one of the Late Ramesside Letters, P. British Museum 10412,192 wherein a deputy (ἰdnw) of the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu writes to the prophet of Mont, Lord of Armant demanding an aroura of land in a particular place next to the plot of a god’s father (ἰt nt̠r) so that he could have it farmed in fruit (dqrw). Officials seeking land on behalf of another institution (acting officially or even on their own behalf ) would of course be receptive to the best terms available on the land they desired to cultivate or have cultivated. We know that plots were allocated to smallholders of importance by the wide range of titles and offices borne by the Wilbour smallholders.193 We have no way of knowing how many plots in the Wilbour apportioning entries were assigned or allocated to individuals with clout enough to make institutions offer them more attractive terms since they were desirable smallholders and had the financial means to pay the share of the harvest due the administering institution regularly.

  Černý, LRL, 55–56; Wente, LRL, 70–71.  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 79ff.; Katary, CRIPEL 28 (2009–2010), 263–319.

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It stands to reason that only the richest temples could afford attractive assessment rates because they could undercut the competition. Obviously when we look at assessment rate from the perspective of individual institutions, the prominence of certain major institutions, such as the House of Amun-Re, King of the Gods at Karnak and especially the west bank mortuary temples of Ramesses V, Ramesses III, and Ramesses II, requires comparative study and investigation vis à vis not so prominent temples and secular institutions. It is possible to determine from the table just where the comparison of means reveals statistically significant differences. At a glance, it is obvious that the means of the pr ’Imn temples vary widely: the Karnak temple of Amun high at 14.9055% (a total of 120 cases); the mortuary temple of Ramesses V somewhat lower at 13.2359% (278 cases); the mortuary temple of Ramesses IV extremely low at 7.5000 (however one case only), the mortuary temple of Ramesses III higher but still relatively low at 10.1884% (220 cases), and the mortuary temple of Ramesses II slightly higher at 10.9115% (80 cases). The wide variation here shows the Karnak temple of Amun at the very top and older mortuary temples consistently having much lower means—even the important establishment of Ramesses III. The Theban series also has low means for some small institutions such as the House of Mut, The Great, Lady of Ishru (10.4167%, 3 cases) which, not surprisingly, is not described as m pr ’Imn. Comparing the Heliopolitan chief temple, House of Re-Harakhte, with the Memphite chief temple, the Great Seat of Ramesses-meriamun, the former has a higher mean of 12.7083% (30 cases) and the latter an even higher mean of 13.9693% (38 cases): both means expected from the data of their respective institutional groups. Means of secular (Crown) institutions are consistently lower: the Landing-Place of Pharaoh at Hardai at 9.8255% (74 cases), the Treasury of Pharaoh at 10.3922% (17 cases), and the Fields of Pharaoh at 9.5062% (27 cases). The House of the King’s Wife has an especially low mean of 7.1644% (18 cases). All but the last of these institutions are in line with the group mean. Taking a higher frequency Other group temple, the House of Sobek-Re, Lord of Anasha, it is found to have a relatively low mean of 7.3763% (62 cases) which intrigues. The means of individual institutions have been compared using post hoc tests to examine the standard error of means in order to determine the statistical significance of the differences between the means: another step forward in understanding. However, this is a long table indeed for discussion here. While these data are



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intriguing in their own right, in light of our minimal knowledge of the financial situation that they reflect, we cannot do much more than acknowledge that there are great distinctions among the institutions, the Theban group’s data being the most heterogeneous when analyzed individually, institution by institution. It will be necessary to conduct a separate study of these institutions and the relationships between and among them as indicated by the mean percentages of assessment and other quantitative measures. The low mean assessment rate of the Secular (Crown) Group institutions is certainly related to the fact that these institutions were not major landholders. The Treasury of Pharaoh stands out as an administrative institution par excellence, the basic functions and characteristics of which probably remained much the same during the New Kingdom since the time of Rekhmire, though there undoubtedly were changes in the administrational structure and leadership initiatives of the Treasury over time to suit the changing conditions and politics. As an administrative institution, the Treasury of Pharaoh did not have the infrastructure the temples possessed with their complex hierarchy of agricultural specialists that we see delineated in the non-apportioning paragraphs, the cross-listed Posh A and B entries, as well as in Text B. While the purpose of temples was to provide a home for the gods where they could be served and worshipped, their commercial enterprise was land management in all its aspects and all its potential commercial success. The produce of their fields, whether cultivated by land-workers communally (the “normal” or non-apportioning domains of Wilbour) or by relatively independent smallholders (the “shared” or apportioning domains), was an extremely significant source of income. As the branch of the state administration charged with receiving income for the country as a whole, the Treasury of Pharaoh had no known history of land cultivation from its inception in the Early Dynastic Period.194 In this early incarnation, as revenues (ἰnw) came into the Treasury from Upper and Lower Egypt under the ḫtmw-bἰty, they went into large-scale storage facilities (pr-šnʿ) which managed the government storage of “buffer” stocks of grain (in granaries (šnwt)) for redistribution (in the pr-ḥ rἰ-wd̠b) to and provisioning (tz-d̠f¡) of members of the court and myriad dependents. Some grain

194   T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt (London and New York, 1999), figs. 4.3 and 4.6.

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received as revenue was retained in granaries for use as emergency supplies in years of poor harvest. While the Treasury maintained specialist departments administered by overseers (ἰmy-r) that processed agricultural produce and secondary manufactured products, it was, from its inception, clearly not a land-administering or farming institution. It did not compete with temple agro-businesses. This conception of the Treasury of Pharaoh is confirmed in the early Eighteenth Dynasty by the “Duties of the Vizier”. The low frequency of 17 plots (0.8%) in the Wilbour apportioning entries (both aroura and land-cubit measured) ascribed to the Treasury of Pharaoh indicates that it was not at all a significant player in directing the agricultural holdings of smallholders in this part of Middle Egypt. It must be remembered, however, that the Treasury of Pharaoh was not situated in this part of Egypt, but rather at the state capital, and that the bulk of its landholdings may have been closer to home. Therefore, Wilbour may not reflect the true land wealth of this institution or any other that likely possessed fields in its own vicinity. The House of the King’s Wife is insufficiently documented for any judgement to be made except to note that only 19 plots (0.8%) are listed under its supervision. It is to be noted that the land controlled by the Royal Harems (pr-ḫnr) at Memphis and Mi-wer (Moeris, Kom Medinet Ghurab) (Memphis in §§38.110.277; Mi-wer in §§39.111.112.278.279) occur in peculiar non-apportioning paragraphs.195 The Landing-Places (mnἰw(t)) of Pharaoh, of which we know very little, were situated on the Nile or the Bahr Yusuf and are clearly secular (Crown) entities, presumably under pharaoh’s direct control. These institutions, for want of a better term, do not at first sight appear to be entities that would have expertise in agricultural management, yet the Landing-Place in Hardai, located at Cynopolis (Cynon polis)196 controls 85 plots (3.8%) and that in the Keep of ‘Onayna, north of Mi-wer (i.e., Kom Medinet Ghurab)197 14 plots (0.6%). It is noteworthy that the Hardai landing-place has a greater number of apportioned plots under its charge than the great Memphite temple, the Great Seat of Ramesses-meriamun in the House of Ptah (69 plots, 3.1%). In §155, the Landing-Place of Pharaoh in the Keep of ‘Onayna is described as  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18, 108f.  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 50ff. Ptolemy places Cynon polis on an island and Strabo partly agrees, §§84.154.241. 197  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18. 195 196



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r-ḫt (under the authority of ) the Mayor of the Keep of ‘Onayna. It is moreover connected to the Fields of Pharaoh, which occurs as a separate entity in §86 where it is described as “(in) this domain”, referring very likely to the preceding Landing-Place in the Keep of ‘Onayna (§85), and occurs again in §§156.242, also in association with landingplaces. The smaller number of plots for the ‘Onayna institution may therefore be misleading as to its importance. The Landing-Place in Mi-wer (§37) occurs in the heading of a non-apportioning paragraph and therefore does not provide data of assessment. What it does do, however, is provide another instance of a secular (Crown) institution that was assigned fields under collectivized cultivation but remained autonomous like khato-lands of Pharaoh in Text A. Gardiner sees the Fields of Pharaoh as connected with the landingplaces but gives no explanation.198 There are two pairs of corresponding Posh A and B entries in Texts A and B (Gardiner’s examples of Text A corresponding posh entries ((4) §201: A73, 5 and A46, 3; B3, 24 in §2 in Text B and (16) §201: A72, 37 and A46, 38, B3, 26 in §2 in Text B)199 that suggest that the words “(on fields) of Pharaoh” refer to the Theban temple of the reigning king. If so, this would mean that khato-land located on fields of Pharaoh in Text B is identical to khato-land in a Posh relationship to the mortuary temple of Ramesses V in Text A. However, Haring points out geographical discrepancies that cast doubt upon Gardiner’s two examples and asserts that it is highly doubtful from Gardiner’s examples that “Fields of Pharaoh” refers to the Theban temple of the reigning king.200 Generally speaking, it cannot be assumed that the fields mentioned in a Posh A entry with a corresponding Posh B entry are exactly the same, the locations being identical only in a small number of cases. Moreover, no other document suggests that “Fields of Pharaoh” refers to temple fields. Paragraphs of Text A suggest that the “Fields of Pharaoh” was a separate institution altogether. Haring sees no alternative to excluding this institution from his discussion of the royal memorial temples altogether.201 Fields of Pharaoh was an institution in its own right and a secular (Crown) institution at that. One is reminded of the wʿrt of

 Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18.  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 169–72. 200  Haring, Divine Households, 321–22 with n. 6. 201  Haring, Divine Households, 322. 198 199

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the ḫbsw of the late Middle Kingdom whose stewards managed the cultivation of royal farmlands. The Fields of Pharaoh has very modest figures in the apportioning plot frequencies: 48 plots, 2.1%. Once again, it has to be recalled that the location of the bulk of this institution’s fields is unknown. However, the Fields of Pharaoh makes sense as a Crown institution with some supervisory control of smallholding. The key to this interpretation may lie in the above-cited Late Egyptian Miscellany P. Sallier I 9, 1–9, 9. The enigmatic “Fields of Pharaoh” in Wilbour may be identified with “the fields of estates of Pharaoh” recorded in P. Sallier I 9, 1–9, 9 in a list of domains cited by the chief of the record-keepers of the Treasury of Pharaoh as sources from which fields might be demarcated for the stable-master of the Great Stable of Ramesses-meriamun of the Residence after his 30 arouras were erroneously allocated to the steward of the mortuary temple of Ramesses II.202 The sources for fields that could be readily allocated to make up for the error include not only the odd “enclosures (?) of Pharaoh” (swt n pr-ʿ¡); property (ʿḥ ʿw) of Pharaoh, which seems clear enough; mἰnt and ḫ¡-n-t¡ lands of Pharaoh; šmw lands; rmnyt lands, but also “the fields of estates of Pharaoh”, provided they are nḥ ¡, “dangerous, rough, hard” hence “untended?” according to Caminos.203 The scribe has made his share of mistakes in this passage in duplicating the phrases “of enclosures of Pharaoh” and “of property of Pharaoh”. This suggests that “fields of the estates of pharaoh” could possibly be the same as the entity “Fields of Pharaoh” in Wilbour paragraph headings, the difference in the name insignificant and not unexpected in letters that are not genuine administrative correspondence. These lines in P. Sallier I suggest that the king needed to have land at his disposal to allocate as needed to whomever or for whatever purpose he saw fit. Khato and minĕ lands were ordinarily put under collectivized cultivation according our understanding of the “normal” or ordinary non-apportioning domains administered by temples, those in Text A being autonomous domains. Lands worked as units under temple teams of labourers likely could be as conveniently accessed for royal use as land cultivated by smallholders despite the number of field-workers involved requiring coordination in any re-allocation,

 Gardiner, Wilbour II, 78–79.  Caminos, LEM, 328 (9, 7).

202 203



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provided entire domains under a single authority (r-ḫt) were being accessed so that all workers could be shifted en masse and teams kept together. If the king wished to “bank” land that he would later allocate to serve various needs quickly and expeditiously, he would prefer the institution to be directly under his control (i.e., “of Pharaoh”) and the land to be immediately accessible. Did the Wilbour secular (Crown) institutions, whose landholding differs significantly from that of temples as a whole, as well as each of the religious institutional groups, play a role in the re-allocation of land as could be inferred from the model letter P. Sallier I 9, 1–9, 9? The Crown would not make a great income from this land if it were not under expert management, but a Crown institution could serve as a holding place for plots that had been recently transferred from royal lands, including khato or minĕ lands of Pharaoh, even if a temple administered the khato-land for the Crown (as in Text B). Third parties were a nuisance but not an insuperable obstacle for the Crown since temples were required for the good of all to cooperate with the Crown. As a land administering institution, the Fields of Pharaoh would have been extremely useful to the Crown. In a case resembling that of the Sallier I model letter, a lower assessment rate might have been offered because of the apparent mistake in the earlier allocation of the 30 arouras. It is unlikely that this letter reflects a unique situation. Lower assessment rates might result from special considerations in land allotment. If we now examine the alternate institutional group variable, we can examine the effect of the reclassification of the temples related to the major cult centres but not identified as m pr + divine name. There is hardly any change for the Memphite group, only one plot being transferred to the Memphite Related category. In the case of the Heliopolitan Group, the Heliopolitan Related category with a total of 59 plots and a mean of 8.7076% causes the mean of the Heliopolitan Group to rise to 13.8842%, just slightly lower than the revised mean for the Memphite Group of 14.0672%. The Theban Group loses only 3 plots to the Theban Related category with the result of a mean that is almost identical to the mean in the original calculation (12.2864% as compared with 12.2789%). The groups Other (temples) and Secular (Crown) are not affected. It becomes evident that if we analyze the data of temples by distinguishing between those identified m pr ’Imn/ Rʿ/Ptḥ and those related to the major cult temples but with different identifying extensions, Memphite and Heliopolitan temples m pr Rʿ/ Ptḥ become much more similar in their means, the difference found

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not to be statistically significant. The single case of a Memphite Related temple results in a category for which no statistics can be generated other than the assessment rate of that particular plot. It is therefore the Heliopolitan Related category that causes the strongest effect. If we remove the Memphite Related institution, we can carry out post hoc tests on the means and determine statistical significance. We find that Theban Related category (one institution with just 3 cases) has a mean where the difference between it and and that of the Theban Group temples (pr ’Imn) is not statistically significant. The difference is also not statistically significant from the mean of any other institutional group. This is likely related to the low frequency of 3 cases. However, the difference between the mean of Heliopolitan Related temples, based upon a much larger frequency of 59 cases, is statistically significant when compared to that of not only Heliopolitan group temples (m pr Rʿ), but also all other institutional groups except Secular and the odd category Theban Related. We can say tentatively, based largely upon the statistics of the Heliopolitan Group and Heliopolitan Related Group, that while there is indication from the means of the variable assessment rate that there was a well thought out strategy behind the assessment rates related to the individual groups where secular (Crown) institutions stand out as markedly different from all the rest, the “related” categories for the three major temple groups do indeed resemble “satellite temples”, related but at a greater distance (at arm’s length) and likely not sharing to the same degree in the benefits/liabilities of belonging to a conglomerate. In all instances, the means of these “satellite temples” are visibly different from those of the main groups: the Heliopolitan Related temples evidence a much lower mean than the Heliopolitan temples (a mean that can be statistically tested) as do the Theban Related temples to a lesser degree (many fewer cases lead to a less reliable test). The single case of a Memphite Related temple with an assessment rate much higher than the mean of the Memphite group as a whole is suggestive but not conclusive. Thus, these data of “satellite temples” are markedly dissimilar from those of the groups. They suggest that there is something distinct— certainly of a fiscal nature—about the extensions m pr ’Imn/Rʿ/Ptḥ that is not shared by related temples even when those temples are acknowledged as related by their location in the sequences of temples m pr ’Imn/Rʿ/Ptḥ in P. Harris I and Wilbour. These related temples are certainly not comparable to those identified as m pr + name of deity, but it would be wrong to assume that



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the extensions m pr ’Imn/Rʿ/Ptḥ do not have a fiscal context that might involve “dependency”. This was likely not a dependency upon financial assistance or support, but an obligation to, at the very least, acknowledge the course of action or fiscal policy endorsed by the group as a whole and fall within its scope as measured by the standard error of the means. Variation within each group is the result of the fact that the component temples were not identical in their financial situations or in their risk-taking. We need to pursue the implications of these results with other analyses that can be accomplished with the data at hand. If we turn our attention to the comparison of means for secular (Crown) institutions with those of cult and mortuary temples taken as separate categories, we see some interesting things happening that suggest that pharaoh’s authority over the land had some effect on the rates of assessment. When temples are classified according to the function they fulfill, mortuary temples and cult temples have very different mean assessment rates, the mean of mortuary temples being closer to the mean of secular (Crown) institutions, i.e., institutions “of Pharaoh”. Secular (Crown) institutions have a mean assessment rate of 9.2743% as compared with mortuary temples with their assessment rate of 11.7537%, whereas cult temples have a higher mean assessment rate of 12.9654%. The differences between and among these means are found to be statistically significant and therefore reflect an underlying economic reality, possibly to be understood as implying some considerable degree of authority wielded by the Crown over mortuary temples which were, after all, royal institutions as well as temples of Amun-Re. Pharaoh could not claim this kind of influence over cult temples. Even though the mortuary temples have a mean that is closer to that of secular (Crown) institutions, the latter still have a markedly lower mean assessment rate. If land values are discounted as a factor that cannot for the moment be verified by anything other the assessment rate, it would appear as though the higher mean of the mortuary temples in comparison with the mean of secular (Crown) institutions reflects the management of these temple domains by the superior qualified staff they shared with cult temples. These may have been truly cooperative farming ventures: government officials working in tandem with temple staff, likely with some inevitable conflict in policies or leadership, leading to less efficient control over cultivation. Mortuary temples had a more distant connection to pharaoh because of their co-existent tie to the cult of the chief deity Amun-Re, though

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their means are distinctly lower than those of cult temples, especially that of Amun-Re at Karnak. This is the first tangible evidence of the dominance of temples as agro-businesses and the lesser degree of success encountered by secular (Crown) institutions when cultivation was supervised by staff lacking the agricultural expertise of the temples and the power that large agro-businesses could exert on an economy through land wealth and sheer numbers of employees. The Crown/State retained control over considerable amounts of land—much of it presumably khato-land and other royal land—as can be seen in the moving of large amounts of land from one mortuary temple to another, the earlier mortuary temples being greatly depleted of their fields over the years (centuries in some cases, just a few years in others) in favour of the mortuary temple of the reigning king. This movement of land from mortuary temple to mortuary temple demonstrates the ease with which the king could make dramatic transfers of land within institutions over which he could claim considerable authority and an undeniable right of access. Khato-land of Pharaoh is the clearest example of discretionary land to which the king had the easiest access to use as he saw fit. These royal lands were likely the repositories of the greatest agricultural land wealth of the day according to Texts A and B of the Wilbour Papyrus,204 our most valuable land administration document for the New Kingdom, even if it covers only a small portion of the totality. The swift changes that occurred in the status of khato-land, including autonomous non-apportioning khato domains in Text A and khato-land formerly apportioned for smallholders, sharply contrast with the greater stability of the longer lasting, not so easily dispersed, temple administered non-apportioning domains so evident in the case of mortuary temples from Ramesses III to Ramesses V.205 Mortuary temples, a peculiar hybrid of temple and state management, were in effect at arm’s length Crown corporations able to cultivate the land with greater efficiency than the secular (Crown) institutions, but perhaps not as effectively as cult temples that benefitted from a greater market share, superior control over labour resources, and enjoyed greater freedom from Crown interference. Variation in assessment 204  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 135: the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu had 750 arouras of non-apportioning domains, some 485 arouras of apportioning domains, and some 1800 arouras of khato fields according to Texts A and B. 205  Haring, CRIPEL 25 (2005), 133.



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rates among the cult temples is pronounced and suggests that many were rich and powerful enough to adjust their assessment rates to suit changing market conditions and balance sheets: the determinants of profit for institutions with the fiscal characteristics of a Walmart. Their financial success enabled them to call the shots. Sometimes the freedom to adjust fiscal policy benefitted the smallholder; other times it clearly did not. Mortuary temples and secular institutions, however, were more strongly influenced by royal interests, the result being a delicate balance between the accumulation of institutional wealth and the accommodation of the interests of the State. This scenario is not the only possible scenario that could be derived from the data presented, but it is plausible. Although pharaoh as head of State and the temples as mega-economic organizations, with unsurpassed competence in large-scale farming, worked in a cooperative but also competitive relationship to guide the ship of State, ultimately the king and his government were held accountable for the success of the agrarian system and the policies that underlay them. The temples were better masters of profitable cultivation than the Crown, but even they had to function within certain bounds for the country as a whole to prosper. The tumultuous later years of the Ramesside Period with their well-documented food shortages and civil disorder, notwithstanding the potential bounty of the land, is a lesson in the consequences of unbridled greed and power-seeking among the component institutions of the State that played a significant role in jeopardizing the institutional and ultimately economic integrity of the late New Kingdom.

A Bureaucratic Challenge? Archaeology and Administration in a Desert Environment (Second Millennium B.C.E.) John Coleman Darnell Desert roads were important yet narrow bands of control through the desert hinterlands of the Nile Valley, and the Egyptians recognized both their importance and potential fears ( fig. 1). The passes of the roads, the points where they ascended and descended the high desert plateau, were so easily controlled, by both friend and foe, that they could be termed “narrow doors.”1 The image of roads blocked—by human agency2 as well as the absence of provisions3—that appears in several Middle Kingdom and New Kingdom texts4 was probably more than a topos. Apparently both at camp in some distant, and perhaps desert, site, and well ensconced at home or in some more permanent caravansary, a far-traveling merchant’s life could be a worried one. The admittedly biased Satire of the Trades says of the express courier (sḫ ¡ḫ .ty): “Whether his home is of cloth or of brick, contentment does not come.”5 Nevertheless, a properly patrolled route might well be safe—in a text in his tomb at Siut, the nomarch Tefib claims that “when night

1  See J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey in the Egyptian Western Desert I (OIP, 119; Chicago, 2002), 35–36. For assistance in the preparation of this chapter the author would like to thank M.W. Brown and C. Manassa. 2  Cf. Wadi Hammamat inscription no. 17, ll. 11–13 (J. Couyat & P. Montet, Les Inscriptions hiéroglyphiques et hiératiques du Ouâdi Hammâmât [MIFAO 34; Cairo, 1912], pl. 5 and p. 40), linking the elimination of rebels and the opening of desert roads; note also the Ballas inscription of Monthuhotep II (below). 3  So in the Wadi Mia Temple inscriptions of Sety I, the route is said to have been šr-blocked prior to Sety’s well digging activities (S. Schott, Kanais, der Tempel Sethos I. im Wadi Mia [NAWG I. phil.-hist. Klasse 1961/6; Göttingen, 1961), text A, ll. 2–3). 4   The Ballas inscription of Monthuhotep II apparently refers to opening šr-blocked roads and to decapitating desert dwellers who hindered his passage (J.C. Darnell, “The Eleventh Dynasty Royal Inscription from Deir el-Ballas,” RdÉ 59 [2008], 89–90). The image of mṯn.w wn.w šrἰ, “roads which were blocked,” appears in l. 14 of the great Speos Artemidos inscription of Hatshepsut (A.H. Gardiner, “Davies’s Copy of the Great Speos Artemidos Inscription,” JEA 32 [1946], pl. 6). 5   W. Helck, Die Lehre des Dw3-Ḫ ty (KÄT 3/2; Wiesbaden, 1970), 97, XVIe, pp. 98–99; S. Jäger, Altägyptische Berufstypologien (Lingua Aegyptia-Studia Monographica 4; Göttingen, 2004), 144–145 and 177, with LVII–LXI.

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Figure 1. Cairn on a low hill, with tracks of the pharaonic Girga Road in the distance, on the high desert plateau between the Nile and Kharga Oasis. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University)



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falls the one who sleeps on the road praises me; like a man in his house is he, the fear of my army being his protection.”6 For the pharaonic state, the chief concern of desert administration outside of the oases appears to have been the securing of the vital and at the same time vulnerable desert roads. The major caravans and expeditions themselves appear to have operated under a dual direction, with an overseer from the major institution from which the group originated sharing authority with a representative of direct royal authority, essentially a bipartite command in which one director reported up a normal chain of rank and command, while the other—as a check and counterbalance to the former—made report to the highest levels of the administration. Through the Old Kingdom—Sealers of King and God, and Egyptianized Nubians Although Early Dynastic expeditions frequented the desert hinterlands of the Nile Valley,7 the exact organization thereof remains elusive. In rock art along desert roads, tableaux of royal ritual power come to replace earlier images of the solar cycle during the Protodynastic Period,8 suggesting an attempt to bring activities in the deserts directly under royal control; the proliferation of serekhs at desert sites during the Archaic Period continues the trend of royal annexation of the deserts and the routes through them,9 and implies the possible presence of treasury officials, predecessors of the later ḫ tmwy-nṯr-officials.10

  6  Siut III, 10 = H. Brunner, Die Texte aus den Gräbern der Herakleopolitenzeit von Siut (ÄF 5; Glückstadt, Hamburg, and New York, 1937), 43–44, ἰἰ wḫ sḏr-ḥ r-mṯn ḥ r dἰ.t n(=ἰ) ἰ3(w) wnn=f mἰ s m pr=f snḏ mšʿ(=ἰ) m mk.t=f. For the benighted traveler, see C. Cannuyer, “nox in ea nocetur . . . les dangers de la nuit dans la littérature didactique de l’ancienne Égypte,” GM 73 (1984), 13–22.   7  T.A.H. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt (London, 1999), 162–176.  8   J.C. Darnell, “Iconographic Attraction, Iconographic Syntax, and Tableaux of Royal Ritual Power in the Pre- and Proto-Dynastic Rock Inscriptions of the Theban Western Desert,” Archéo-Nil 19 (2009), 83–107; Id., “The Wadi of the Horus Qa-a: a Tableau of Royal Ritual Power in the Theban Western Desert,” in: Egypt at its Origins 3, R.F. Friedman & P.N. Fiske, eds. (Leuven, 2011), 1160–1180.   9   The late Second Dynasty ruler Qa-a took a particular interest in the desert hinterlands of Upper Egypt, leaving his serekh in the desert hinterland of Elkab, Thebes, and Kharga Oasis—see J.C. Darnell, in: Egypt at its Origins 3, 1181. See also J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 19–20. 10  On whom see E. Eichler, Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches (Wiesbaden, 1993), 192–197 and 234–254.

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Ultimately, the latter title appears to be replaced by the wpwty-nsw.t,11 suggesting that the ḫ tmwy-nṯr-title itself represents direct royal control. In addition to recording mining and military expeditions of the Old Kingdom,12 rock inscriptions and archaeological remains provide evidence of long distance trade and travel.13 Some Old Kingdom officials involved in desert travel, in both Egypt and Nubia, bore naval titles (such as imy-irty ʿpr wἰ¡),14 nautical rankings that suggest a similar exploratory mentality and corresponding administration that could be applied to diverse landscapes. During the reign of Merenre in the Sixth Dynasty the “overseers of Egyptianized Nubians” (imy-r ἰʿ¡.w)15—much less frequently specified with the name of the region where they served as interpreters16—essentially replaced the earlier ḫ tmwy-nṯr-officials as the textually most visible overseers of desert travel. The change from a form of treasury official to the Egyptianized Nubians in the oversight of desert expeditions in Sinai and the deserts of Upper Egypt and  See M. Vallogia, “Chanceliers du dieu et messagers du roi à l’est de l’Égypte,” in: Le Sinai durant l’antiquité et le moyen age, D. Valbelle & C. Bonnet, eds., (Paris, 1998), pp. 39–43. 12   Cf. inter alia E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, passim; I. Shaw, “Exploiting the Desert Frontier: the Logistics and Politics of Ancient Egyptian Mining Expeditions,” in: A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott & E.W. Herbert, eds., Social Approaches to an Industrial Past (London, 1998), 242–258. 13  Some of the many possible references are collected in E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, passim; A.J. Peden, The Graffiti of Pharaonic Egypt (Leiden, 2001); K.P. Kuhlmann, “Der ‘Wasserberg des Djedefre’ (Chufu 01/1). Ein Lagerplatz mit Expeditionsinschriften der 4. Dynastie im Raum der Oase Dachla,” MDAIK 61 (2005), 243–289. Of great importance is F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg, eine pharaonische Karawanenroute durch die Libysche Wüste (forthcoming), and the references cited there. Note also that Old Kingdom campsites appear on the Girga Road between the Thebaïd and Kharga Oasis—J.C. Darnell, “The Deserts”, in: The Egyptian World, T. Wilkinson, ed., (London, 2007), 33–34. 14  M. Valloggia, “Note sur l’organisation administrative de l’Oasis de Dakhla à la fin de l’Ancien Empire,” Méditerranées 6/7 (1996), 61–72; Id., “Les Amiraux de l’Oasis de Dakhleh,” in: Mélanges Offerts à Jean Vercoutter, F. Geus and F. Thill, eds., (Paris, 1985), 355–364. 15  See the remarks of E. Edel, “Zwei neue Felsinschriften aus Tumâs mit nubischen Ländernames,” ZÄS 97 (1971), 57–58. Note that Patrolmen of “indigenous” Western Desert origin are attested already by the Third Dynasty (H. Goedicke, “Die Laufbahn des Mṯn,” MDAIK 21 (1966) 49–50; K.B. Gödecken, Eine Betrachtung der Inschriften des Meten im Rahmen der sozialen und rechtlichen Stellung von Privatleuten im ägyptischen Alten Reich [ÄA 29; Wiesbaden, 1976], 122–123 [n. 32]; P.-M. Chevereau, “Contribution à la prosopographie des cadres militaires de l’Ancien Empire et de la Première Période Intermédiaire,” RdÉ 38 [1987], 38–39). 16  So the “overseer of the interpreters of Yam” on the Sixth Dynasty stela of ʾIwt (CGC 1638) from Naqada—H.G. Fischer, Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome (AnOr 40; Rome, 1964), 27–30 and pl. 10. 11



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Nubia apparently represents a decentralization of control over desert activities,17 and reflects a burgeoning policy of liaising with local Nubians, thereby providing wide-ranging oversight of territories without necessarily maintaining corresponding direct physical control. Titles related to roads appear in the Old Kingdom as well,18 although the exact extent of the jurisdiction of their holders is uncertain. Men such as an imy-r itḥ .w smἰt mnw(.w) nsw.t, “overseer of Desert strongholds and royal forts,”19 appear to have overseen the infrastructure of military and paramilitary control of desert outposts, for which much more evidence is forthcoming from the Middle Kingdom (see below). First Intermediate Period and Middle Kingdom—Economic Integration After the collapse of the Old Kingdom, Thebes capitalized on the geomorphology of her location to control routes through the Eastern and Western Deserts.20 During the First Intermediate Period, the bureaucratic challenge of warring nomes in Upper Egypt was tackled at least once through the annexation of desert routes. Already by the late Old Kingdom,21 the governors in the northern portion of the Qena Bend

 See the remarks of C. Manassa, “The Crimes of Count Sabni Reconsidered,” ZÄS 133 (2006), 158–159; E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, 192–197 and 234–254. While L. Bell, Interpreters and Egyptianized Nubians in Ancient Egyptian Foreign Policy: Aspects of the History of Egypt and Nubia. (Ann Arbor, 1976) has noted multiple occurrences of the title in the Nile Valley, these almost always refer to foreign expeditions; see also M.W. Brown, ‘Keeping Enemies Closer:’ Desert Rock Inscriptions and Role of the Viceroy in the New Kingdom Nubian Administration (forthcoming). 18  H.G. Fischer, “Sur les routes de l’Ancien Empire,” CRIPEL 13 (1991), 59–64. 19  H. Junker, Giza 3; Die Mastabas der vorgeschrittenen V. Dynastie auf dem Westfriedhof (Vienna, 1938), p. 172. Such structures probably resembled that in G. Mumford & S. Parcak, “Pharaonic Ventures into South Sinai: El-Markha Plain Site 346,” JEA 89 (2003), 83–116. 20   J.C. Darnell et al., Theban Desert Road Survey 1, 30–46; A link between Thebes, Nubia, and the Western Desert is clear in the title in a rock inscription at Kumma, belonging to a: r-pʿ.t ḥ 3ty-ʿ r3-ʿ3 Šmʿw W3s.t T3-Sty, “prince and count of the (narrow) door (of the desert) of Upper Egypt, of Thebes and Nubia” (G.A. Reisner, D. Dunham & J.M.A. Janssen, Semna Kumma [Boston, 1960], pl. 100G and p. 156; F. Hintze, W.F. Reineke, with U. Hintze & A. Burkhardt, Felsinschriften aus dem sudanesischen Nubien [Berlin, 1989], 126, no. 451, and pl. 172). 21  So a Sixth Dynasty governor of the Seventh Upper Egyptian Nome—P. Montet, “Les Tombeaux dits de Kasr-el-Sayed,” Kêmi 6 (1936), 84–109; Urk. I 257–258; T. Säve-Söderbergh, The Old Kingdom Cemetary of Homra Dom (El-Qasr wa esSaiyad) (Stockholm, 1994), 36–56. 17

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adopted titles that suggest a control of the desert hinterlands of Upper Egypt, by virtue of the network of desert roads focusing on the great bend of the Upper Egyptian Nile Valley. By the end of the Heracleopolitan Period, the governors of the Coptite nome claimed control of the deserts, although conflict with their southern neighbor led to a dwindling, and eventual collapse, of their desert authority.22 Even while it suggests a diminution in authority, the title “Overseer of the Eastern and Western Deserts” (ἰmy-r ḫ ¡s.wt ἰ¡bt.t ἰmnt.t) of one Coptite governor corresponds to his successor’s title of “Confidant of the king in the Door of the Desert of the South” (mḥ-ἰb n nsw.t m r¡-ʿ¡ ḫ ¡s.t Šmʿ),23 revealing that the control of the desert areas was first and foremost a control of desert roads—desert oversight for the Nilotic administration was more arterial than territorial. Officials with oversight of the deserts could claim the confidence of the ruler,24 and this confidential nature of administrative oversight, part of a bipartite system of control of desert activities, persisted through the New Kingdom. Maneuvering through the deserts against her enemies, late First Intermediate Period Thebes dominated Upper Egypt and ultimately reunified Egypt, founding the Middle Kingdom. Although the First Intermediate Period general Djemi claims to have “subjected the Wawatians to b¡k-status for each governor who arose in this nome (apparently the Theban nome),”25 his impositions were not permanent but repeated, apparently concessions won by diplomacy or military coercion, perhaps in the form of treaties creating temporary alliances. Monthuhotep II added the areas to the south and west of the Upper

 See J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey 1, pp. 34–46.  Ibid., discussing the inscriptions in H.G. Fischer, Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome, 43–49. For later implications of the epithets of “confidence” and the association thereof with direct royal contact, see C. Raedler, “Zur Struktur der Hofgesellschaft Ramses’ II.” in: Der ägyptische Hof des Neuen Reiches: seine Gesellschaft und Kultur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Außenpolitik, R. Gundlach & A. Klug, eds. (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 2; Wiesbaden, 2006), 50. 24  E. Edel, ZÄS 97 (1971), 56–59. The Coptite governor Tjauti claimed to be “Confidant of the King in the Door of the Desert of Upper Egypt” (mḥ -ἰb n nsw.t m r¡-ʿ¡ ḫ ¡s.t Šmʿ), and his Theban contemporary claimed the similar title of “confidant of the king in the narrow door of the desert of the south” (mḥ -ἰb n nsw.t m r¡-ʿ¡ g¡w ḫ ¡s.t rsy)—J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey 1, 35. 25  T.G. Allen, AJSL 38 (1921), 56–57; A. Roccati, “Gebelein nelle Lotte Feudali,” Rivista degli Studi Orientali 42 (1967), 65–74; L. Gestermann, Kontinuität und Wandel in Politik und Verwaltung des frühen Mittleren Reiches in Ägypten (GOf IV/18; Wiesbaden, 1987), 203–204; G. Meurer, Nubier in Ägypten bis zum Beginn des Neuen Reiches (ADAIK 13; Berlin, 1996), 77. 22

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Egyptian Nile Valley—W¡w¡.t and wḥ ¡.t respectively—to the Theban state. He further claims to have been the first ruler for whom the dwellers in all those regions performed b¡k-work—grammatically, under Monthuhotep II Lower Nubia and the oases become the subjects rather than the objects of the verb b¡k.26 The economic activities of Old Kingdom rulers in Lower Nubia27 and in the region of Dakhla Oasis28 indicate that Monthuhotep is concerned with a change in the earlier relationship of those areas to Egypt; areas that presented ἰnw-tribute to his predecessors,29 and who were occasionally subjected to repeated but clearly short-lived b¡k payments, would now render perpetual b¡k-payments to Monthuhotep and his successors. As b¡k later represents physical labor and the proceeds thereof paid on a regular basis from within Egypt, or from external areas integrated into the Egyptian economy,30 Monthuhotep appears to refer to a complete integration of Lower Nubia and the western oases into the Upper Egyptian state, and an internalization of the economy and those regions—tribute-giving and possibly loot-furnishing outsiders become tax-paying insiders. In an inscription of the reign of Sesostris I from the Wadi el-Hudi amethyst mines the Steward Hor offers devotion to the Egyptian ruler, and the resulting entry into b¡k-work status, as the means whereby Nubians might achieve ḥ m-servant status.31 A passage through the ­status of  Note that on the interior rear wall of his Dendera chapel, Monthuhotep II also refers to having subjected Nḥ sy.w-Nubians to b¡k-status (L. Habachi, “King Nebhepetre Menthuhotp: his Monuments, Place in History, Deification and Unusual Representations in the Form of Gods,” MDAIK 19 [1963], fig. 6, first column of text to right, behind royal figure), although this is more in the realm of heraldic and “propagandistic” imagery. 27  See J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: économie, administration et organization territoriale (Paris, 199), 153, discussing a ḥ w.t of Snofru at Aswan. 28  See L. Pantalacci in the present volume. 29   A.M. Blackman, “The Stela of Thethi, Brit. Mus. No. 614,” JEA 17 (1931), pl. 8, l. 6 (facing p. 56; reference to inn.t n ḥ m n nb(=i) m-ʿ ḥ q¡.w ḥ ry.w-tp dšr.t, “that which is brought to the person of (my) lord by the hand of the rulers upon the Red Land”); J.J. Clère & J. Vandier, Textes de la première période intermédiaire et de la Xième Dynastie (Bib. Aeg. 10; Brussels, 1948), 15 §20. 30  E. Bleiberg, “The Redistributive Economy in New Kingdom Egypt: An Examination of B|kw(t),” JARCE 25 (1988), 157–168; P. Grandet, Papyrus Harris I, vol. 2 (BdE 109/2; Cairo, 1994), 61 n. 229; J.J. Janssen, “B¡kw: From Work to Product,” SAK 20 (1993), 91–94; J.C. Moreno García, “Acquisition de serfs durant la Première Période Intermédiare,” RdÉ 51 (2000), 129–130 n. 41; S.T. Smith, Wretched Kush (LondonNew York, 2003), 182–183. 31   Wadi el-Hudi n° 143 (Cairo JdE 71901)—A.I. Sadek, The Amethyst Mining Inscriptions (Warminster, 1980 and 1985), vol. 1, 84, l. 15; vol. 2, pl. 23; references 26

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ḥ m-servant was a route of acculturation to which the properly instructed and socially inducted prisoner of war might aspire.32 The reign of Monthuhotep II is a seminal one for the broadening of Egypt’s administrative control over desert routes, and the creation of a new “desert” policy with a corresponding bureaucratic system. A hieroglyphic inscription from Deir el-Ballas describes the process by which Monthuhotep II first secured desert roads and incorporated the hinterlands of Upper Egypt into the pharaonic economy.33 After referring to opening desert routes and apparently visiting the Red Sea, Monthuhotep states (l. x+9) that he assigned rwḏw-agents to Elephantine, and at least one other place of which the name is lost to a lacuna. The implementation of Monthuhotep’s policy of integrating Lower Nubia and the oases to Upper Egypt may have fallen primarily on the shoulders of rwḏw-agents.34 Appointed by the king, each apparently an early example of the later rwḏw ḥ q¡, “agent of the ruler,”35 these representatives of royal authority in economic matters could also be involved in more physical border control and frontier policing.36 The rwḏw-officials could be concerned with both economic and military activities, just as later they appear to have been active in agricultural management (farms and storage depots) and in certain military

in C. Obsomer, Sesostris Ier, Étude chronologique et historique du règne (Brussels, 1995), pp. 630–635. The rendering in J.M. Galán, “The Stela of Hor in Context,” SAK 21 (1994), 75, suffers from a number of problems. The transformation of foreigner into ḥ m is significant, given the general separation of ḥ m-servants from foreigners in Egyptian texts of the Middle Kingdom—see the remarks of T. Hofmann, Zur sozialen Bedeutung zweier Begriffe für : b¡k und ḥ m (Aegyptiaca Helvetica 18; Basel, 2005), 169–171 and 257–258 (Hofmann, ibid., does not mention the Wadi el-Hudi stela of Hor, which in fact supports and clarifies several of his conclusions). 32   B. Menu, in: La dépendance rurale dans l’antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale (BdE 140; Cairo, 2004), 187–209. 33   J.C. Darnell, RdÉ 59 (2008), 81–106; Id., “The Route of Eleventh Dynasty Expansion into Nubia,” ZÄS 131 (2004), 23–37. 34   The rock inscriptions of Mererteti and Khety at Aswan (W.M.F. Petrie, A Season in Egypt, 1887 (London, 1887), pl. 8, nos. 243 [Mererteti] and 213 [Khety]; J. De Morgan, et al., Catalogue des monuments et inscriptions de l’Égypte antique 1, Haute Égypte 1, de la frontière de Nubie à Kom Ombos [Vienna, 1894], p. 37, no. 151 [Mererteti]) may belong to two of these rwḏw-officials. 35   W.A. Ward, Index of Egyptian Administrative and Religious Titles of the Middle Kingdom (Beirut, 1982), 102, n° 848. 36  R. Anthes, “Eine Polizeistreife des Mittleren Reiches in die westliche Oase,” ZÄS 65 (1930), pl. 7, l. 7; Kay refers to himself there as rwḏw=f n ʿq ἰb=f, “his (the king’s) trusted agent.”



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e­ xpeditions.37 The rwḏw-officials appear to have resided at the places where they held oversight.38 The incorporation of Lower Nubia and the oases into the pharaonic economy required not only personnel like the rwḏw-agents stationed at Elephantine, but a physical infrastructure as well. These structures need not be impressive in size or extent, like the later Twelfth Dynasty Nubian fortresses, but could represent through their remote locations along desert roads the long arm of pharaonic administration. One such outpost has now been identified in the Northwest Wadi of Kurkur,39 consisting of a modestly sized rectangular structure (ca. 5m × 5m) (  fig. 2). The original construction employed courses of large, naturally flat limestone slabs; the north and west walls were straight, the northwest corner itself initially open and forming the main entrance to the building. The ceramic material within and surrounding the structure indicate a date in the early Twelfth Dynasty; the absence of Marl C fabric supports a date prior to the move of the capitol from Thebes to Lisht, and thus suggests that the structure may have been originally set up as part of Monthuhotep’s desert policy. Such a date—late Eleventh through incipient Twelfth Dynasty—is thus slightly earlier than the date of the Abu Ziyar outpost on the main Girga Road between the Thebaid and Kharga Oasis (see below). The ceramic material is approximately one-third Egyptian Nile Valley and two-thirds C-Group Nubian material, suggesting that the administration (however small) at this outpost in Kurkur Oasis exploited local Nubian human resources. Textual

37  See the references in A.G. McDowell, Jurisdiction in the Workmen’s Community of Deir el-Medîna (Egyptologische Uitgaven 5; Leiden, 1990), 59–65; D.B. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III (Leiden-Boston, 2003), 42 n. 252; J. Winand, “Les Décrets oraculaires pris en l’honneur d’Henouttaouy et de Maâtkarê (Xe et VIIe pylônes),” Cahiers de Karnak 11 (2003), 661 n. j; A.R. El-Ayedi, Index of Egyptian Administrative, Religious and Military Titles of the New Kingdom (Ismailia, 2006), 288–291. For the rwḏw as one who “appears to manage estates on behalf of far distant temples that owned them,” see A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica 1 (Oxford, 1947), 32*. For rwḏw-agents and desert cisterns/wells, see J.C. Darnell, “Abu Ziyar and Tundaba,” http://www.yale.edu/egyptology/ae_tundaba.htm. 38  Compare L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases (Warminster, 1987), 83. 39  Excavation of this structure and survey of surrounding area is part of the concession of the Yale Toshka Desert Survey; for a preliminary presentation of the pre-pharaonic remains in the same area, see D. Darnell and J.C. Darnell, “The Archaeology of Kurkur Oasis, Nuq‘ Maneih, and the Sinn el-Kiddab,” in: The First Cataract—One Region, Various Perspectives, D. Raue, S.J. Seidlmayer & P. Speiser, eds. (Mainz am Rhein, forthcoming) (a slightly abbreviated, on-line version of this article is available at http://www.yale.edu/egyptology/ae_kurkur.htm).

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Figure 2.  A dry stone structure at Kurkur Oasis, southwest of Aswan— a mixture of Nilotic Egyptian and Nubian ceramic material, of early (preSesostris I) Middle Kingdom date suggests that this may have been the seat of a rwḏw-agent of the sort appointed by Monthuhotep II to oversee the newly annexed regions of Lower Nubia and the Western Desert oases. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University)

e­ vidence supports the presence of Nubian auxiliaries of the Egyptian state in the area of Kurkur during the early Middle Kingdom,40 and the mixed Nubian and Egyptian ceramic material at the Middle Kingdom structure in Kurkur is archaeological evidence for the same. The early Middle Kingdom structure in the Northwest Wadi of Kurkur would fit well as the seat of a rwḏw-agent, monitoring economic and military activities along the extensive road network that converged on the small oasis. The treasurer Khety who accompanies the father of Monthuhotep II in the great Schatt er-Rigal tableau was apparently not a “desert” agent,41 but may well have been concerned with the reception of trade

40   J.C. Darnell, “The Rock Inscriptions of Tjehemau at Abisko,” ZÄS 130 (2003), 31–48; Id., ZÄS 131 (2004), 23–37. 41  He is probably not the same man as a rwḏw-agent named Khety who appears at Aswan—see J.P. Allen, “Some Theban Officials of the Early Middle Kingdom,” in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson 1, P. der Manuelian, ed. (Boston, 1996), 7.



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goods at the Nile Valley terminus of a desert road.42 The contemporaneous “great steward” Henenu personally visited desert areas, and exercised fiscal control as well, perhaps at different stages of his career. Henenu was both ḫ tmw n wḥ ¡.t, “sealer of the oasis,” and involved in the taxation of the Eighth (Thinite) and Tenth (Lower Aphroditopolite, or Antaeopolite) Nomes43—the latter tasks imply that Henenu’s oasian fiscal duties involved the main Girga-Kharga route, and an early manifestation of the northern extension of the Darb el-Arbaîn,44 thereby combining the Nubian and oasian regions that Monthuhotep II had annexed.45 Monthuhotep II already envisaged the incorporation of Lower Nubia and the oases into the Egyptian state by means of an economically driven acculturation, an administrative and economic bonding of the areas far different from the “hegemonic domination” that held sway in Upper Nubia through the high New Kingdom.46 A governor of the early Middle Kingdom attested in Dakhla Oasis may represent a further elaboration of the earlier system of rwḏw-agents already during the reign of Monthuhotep II,47 perhaps a direct replacement for a

42  If the Schatt er-Rigal inscription shares a regnal year 41 date with that of an inscription of the rwḏw-agent Khety at Aswan (J.C. Darnell, ZÄS 131 [2004]: n. 50), then Khety of the Aswan inscription may well be one of the rwḏw-agents to whom the Ballas inscription refers. 43   W.C. Hayes, “Career of the Great Steward Henenu under NebhepetreMentuhotpe,” JEA 35 (1949), pl. 4, l. 4; L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 54–55. For Henenou see also J.P. Allen, in Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson 1, pp. 11–12. 44  L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 53–54, discusses Wawat and the oasis in the Ballas inscription; Id., ibid., 54–55, she discusses the stela of Henenu, and suggests that “the presentation in this inscription of Ḥ nnw’s duties in the Thinite-Aphroditopolite region and then in Wḥ ¡.t suggests that the latter was in direct relationship with the former”. 45   Already during the First Intermediate Period, the products of Wawat and the Western Desert may have been linked—the general Djemi refers to having subjected Wawat to b¡k, and to having brought g¡.wt m T¡-wr, “bundles of goods from the Thinite Nome” (T.G. Allen, “The Story of an Egyptian Politician,” AJSL 38 [1921]: 56–57). An hieratic literary fragment in W. Spiegelberg, Hieratic Ostraka and Papyri found by J.E. Quibell in the Ramesseum, 1895–6 (London, 1898), pl. 42, A2, l. 2, mentions Knm.t, “Kharga,” and the g¡.wt-bundles of T¡-ḥ n-nfr, “Nubia.” 46   For which see Smith, Wretched Kush, 94 et passim. 47   For the governor and his probable date, see C.A.Hope & O.E. Kaper, “A Governor of Dakhleh Oasis in the Early Middle Kingdom,” in: Egyptian Culture and Society. Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati 1, A. Woods, A. McFarlane & S. Binder, eds. (CASAE 38; Cairo, 2010), 219–245.

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pro-Heracleopolitan, if not semi-autonomous, governor whom a Theban expedition may have found still in place at Balat.48 Agricultural security may have been at least one major impetus for Monthuhotep’s desire to administer the oases and Lower Nubia, and the products thereof, as elements of the Upper Egyptian economy. The pḥ w-regions, marginal lands on the outskirts of the Egyptian nomes, were of no inconsiderable economic value,49 annually offsetting to some extent effects of periodic low Niles,50 and the early Middle Kingdom state may have sought the products of Lower Nubia and the Western Desert in order to fulfill the same function.51 In the Dendera chapel of Monthuhotep II, the ruler’s subjecting the Nubians to b¡k-status results in the acquisition of the products of the southern lands—Medjaw, Wawat, Tjemehou, and the pḥ w-regions.52 Low areas, clay pans, seasonally cultivated, are known—compare the Nuq Maneih pan west of Gebel Barqa, to the west of Kom Ombo53—and the text of the stela BM 1203 may refer to such cultivation by a desert ranger.54  See the remarks of F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg.  See the remarks of J.C. Moreno Garcia, “La gestion des aires marginales: pḥ w, gs, ṯnw, sḫ t au IIIe millenaire,” in: Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati 2, A. Woods, A. McFarlane & S. Binder, eds. (CASAE 38; Cairo, 2010), 49–69. The Admonitions reveal that even the apparently somewhat modest products from the oases were important during times of strife and economic disruption—see Admonitions §3,6–3,10—something that would have been very much on the minds of Monthuhotep II and his contemporaries. 50  S. Aufrère, in Id., ed., Encyclopédie religieuse de l’univers végétal 1, 8–9. 51   Already an Old Kingdom official (J.C. Moreno Garcia, Ḥ wt, 225 n. 55; ibid., 225–227 for the “crier”) could combine titles of land administration, “crier” (nḫ t-ḫ rw), and “overseer of Farafra” (imy-r T¡-iḥ w), the latter therefore almost certainly being more specifically an oversight of the products thereof. 52  In the Dendera text the pḥ w-regions appear to be part of the southern terrain, not the northern marshes, for which, even in southern inscriptions, see L. Gabolde, “La stèle de Thoutmosis II à Assouan, témoin historique et archetype littéraire,” in A. Gasse & V. Rondot, eds., Séhel entre Égypte et Nubie (Montpellier, 2004), 139 and n. 27. 53  G.W. Murray, “The Road to Chephren’s Quarries,” Geographical Journal 94 (1939), 100–101; D. Darnell and J.C. Darnell, “The Archaeology of Kurkur Oasis, Nuqª Maneih, Bir Nakheila, and the Sinn el-Kiddab,” in: The Archaeology of the First Cataract, D. Raue, ed. (forthcoming) (an abbreviated version is available at http://www .yale.edu/egyptology/ae_kurkur.htm#nuq). 54  Clère & Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire, 19, §23, l. 17; W. Schenkel, Memphis-Herakleopolis-Theben, die epigraphischen Zeugnisse der 7.–11. Dynastie Ägyptens (ÄA 12; Wiesbaden, 1965), 227 n. [b]. The stela owner, a nwwhunter, describes putting ḫ mw-grain on the desert (tp smἰt). The ḫ mw-grain also appears in the text of the stela of Merer in Cracow (J. Černy, “The Stela of Merer in Cracow,” JEA 47 (1961), pl. 1 and p. 7, l. 12). The fact that the stela owner follows his claim to have put the grain out on the desert with a statement of working 48 49



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Access to manpower and Nubian auxiliary troops was also one very real concern for the early Middle Kingdom.55 Major Old Kingdom raids into Lower Nubia had secured large numbers of Nubians for Egyptian service,56 and the Nubians who already traveled the desert roads of Upper Egypt during the late Old Kingdom57 The northern expansion of Theban forces at the end of the First Intermediate Period appears to have been accompanied by a northern expansion of Nubian groups,58 and the inscriptions of Tjehemau at Abisko in Lower Nubia—at the terminus of a route from Kurkur Oasis—describe the Nubian soldier’s recruitment under Monthuhotep II, and subsequent activities, by both river and desert road, probably during a period of internal conflict during the reign of Amenemhat I.59 Monthuhotep II’s annexation of Wawat and the oases, and his integration of the regions into the Upper Egyptian economy, took several subsequent reigns for full implementation. The early Middle Kingdom policeman Kay, a rwḏw-agent, referred to exploring the routes of

with other plants by night suggests a nocturnal grain offering for an Osirian-lunar festival—compare S. Aufrère, “Du marais primordial de l’Égypte des origines au jardin médicinal,” in: Encyclopédie religieuse de l’univers végétal 1, Id., ed. (Orientalia Monspeliensia 10; Montpellier, 1999), 22–23; N. Guilhou, “Présentation et offrande des épis dans l’Égypte ancienne (I) les documents antérieurs à l’époque ptolémaïque,” in: ibid., 357–358. 55  See the remarks of J.C. Darnell, ZÄS 131 (2004), 23–37. 56  E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, 112–113 and 125; J. Lopez, Las Inscripciones Rupestres Faraónicas entre Korosko y Kasr Ibrim (Orilla Oriental del Nilo) (Comité Español de la UNESCO para Nubia. Memorias de la Misión Arqueológica 9; Madrid, 1966), 25–30 and pls. 16–17 (nos. 27 and 28); Id., “Inscriptions de l’Ancien Empire à Khor el-Aquiba,” RdÉ 19 (1967), 51–66; J.C. Darnell, ZÄS 131 (2004), 31 n. 35. Captives of the sort recorded in the Khor el-Aquiba inscriptions may be behind the settlement of Nubians at Dashur under Snofru (for which see the references in L. Bell, Interpreters and Egyptianized Nubians in Ancient Egyptian Foreign Policy: Aspects of the History of Egypt and Nubia [Ann Arbor, 1976], 71–72), probably patrolling the desert road from Dahshur/South Saqqara to Siwa—see Petrie, A Season in Egypt, 35; O. Perdu, “Stèles royales de la XXVIe dynastie,” BSFE 105 (1986), 28–29; H. Goedicke, “Psamtik I. und die Libyer,” MDAIK 18 (1962), 26–49; M. Basta, “Excavations in the Desert Road at Dashour,” ASAE 60 (1968), 57–63; A.M. Moussa, “A stela of Taharqa from the Desert Road at Dahshur,” MDAIK 37 (1981), 331–334. 57  Compare the inscription of Mereri from Dendera, who refers to himself as mry n sw¡ἰ(wty)w nḥ sy.w nw ḫ ¡s.t, “beloved of those who pass by, and the Nubians of the desert”—H.G. Fischer, Dendera in the Third Millennium B.C. Down to the Theban Domination of Upper Egypt (Locust Valley, 1968), 138 and 140–141. 58  Compare the remarks of M. Bietak, “Zu den nubischen Bogenschützen aus Assiut, ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Ersten Zwischenzeit,” in Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar 1 (BdÉ 97/1; Cairo, 1985), 94. 59   J.C. Darnell, ZÄS 130 (2003), 31–48; Id., ZÄS 131 (2004), 23–37.

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the “western oasis,” and—together with a force of perhaps some size (mšʿ)—bringing back a fugitive (wtḫ w).60 On the basis of the probable find spot of Kay’s stela, the expedition apparently originated in the Thebaïd, traveling along the Wadi Alamat Road via Gebel Qarn el-Gir to Hou and ultimately Kharga.61 The steward Dediku appears to have traveled the same route when he departed from Thebes to secure the land of the oasians, retuning via Abydos to erect his stela.62 The most important officials of desert control and development during the early Middle Kingdom appear to have been the rwḏw-agents and ἰmy-r pr-stewards. The title of steward is attested at desert sites, in both exploration (so the Mery southwest of Dakhla) and in military or paramilitary command.63 Dediku was a steward (ἰmy-r pr), as well as leader of the ḏ¡m.w-recruits of the nfr.w-cadets on a mission to the oases under Sesostris I,64 and both ḏ¡m.w and nfr.w appear as members of other desert expeditions, both to mining regions in the Eastern and Western Deserts, and to the coast of the Red Sea.65 More 60  R. Anthes, ZÄS 65 (1930), pl. 7, ll. 4–6; for the date see R.E. Freed, “Stela Workshops of Early Dynasty 12,” in: Studies in Honor of William Kelly Simpson I, 304. Another desert policeman of the same era is Beb of Abydos—P.A.A. Boeser, Beschreibung der aegyptischen Sammlung der Niederlandischen Reichsmuseum der Altertümer in Leiden II part 1, Stelan (The Hague, 1909), 5 and pl. 10 (Stela Leiden V 88); G. Andreu, “Les titres de policiers formés sur la racine ŠNʿ,” CRIPEL 9 (1987), 19–20, is probably incorrect in her assessment that Beb must have patrolled in the north. 61  See D. Darnell and J.C. Darnell, Theban Desert Road Survey I, 41. 62  H. Schäfer, “Ein Zug nach der grossen Oase unter Sesostris I,” ZÄS 42 (1905) 124–28. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 56 and nn. 136–42 (p. 108–109; note that she erroneously suggests that there is no known Thebes-oasis route). 63   J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, p. 73, with a butler from the northwestern hinterland of ancient Thebes, and references to the Mery inscription and corrections to previous readings thereof; see also F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg (forthcoming). A further connection between an ἰmy-r pr and a military title may appear in D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib auf Elephantine (Heidelberg: SAGA 9, 1994), 62–63. 64  H. Schäfer, “Ein Zug nach der grossen Oase unter Sesostris I.,” ZÄS 42 (1905), 124–128. 65  Examples include an ἰmy-r ḏ3m.w under Amenemhat II at Gebel el-Asr (see R. Engelbach, “The Quarries of the Western Nubian Desert. A Preliminary Report,” ASAE 33 [1933], 71, fig. 2, l. 5; J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, “A Trusty Sealbearer on a Mission—the Monuments of Sabastet from the Gebel el-Asr Quarry,” in: Denkschrift für D. Franke, H.-W. Fischer-Elfert, ed. [forthcoming]), additional recruits of the cadets at Wadi el-Hudi (Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi 1, 16 [no. 6], ll. 7–9: ḏ3m.w nḫ t n nfr.w), and nfr-cadets in the Wadi Hammamat (G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres du Wadi Hammâmât [Paris, 1957], ll. 16–17 of no. 59; W.K. Simpson, “Historical and Lexical Notes on the New Series of Hammamat Inscriptions,” JNES 18 [1959], 32), and at Wadi Gaasis (A.M.A.H. Sayed, “Discovery of the Site of the 12th Dynasty Port at Wadi Gawasis on the Red Sea Shore,” RdÉ 29 [1977], 162, l. 1).



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directly linking of the titles is the unnamed “chief of the house of recruits” (ἰmy-r pr ḏ¡m.w) in the Wadi el-Hôl.66 The late Middle Kingdom “great steward of Bahariya” (ἰmy-r pr wr n Ḏ sḏs), Monthuhotep,67 apparently reveals the more permanent attachment of a steward not to an expedition or undertaking, but to a place, like the earlier rwḏwagents whom Monthuhotep II installed. The seemingly even more domestic title “butler” (wdpw) is also attested at desert sites.68 Middle Kingdom Expeditions—Quarrymen and Developers As the early Middle Kingdom progressed, the assertion of governmental oversight of desert activities appears to have become more apparent; early Middle Kingdom expeditions become increasingly a matter of a penetration of the Nilotic government and its work forces and expeditions into the desert, and less a potential bilateral interaction of Nilotic and desert folk. Although Eleventh Dynasty expeditions in the Nubian deserts appear to have been more collaborative and to have included relatively few Egyptian administrators,69 headed by an “­overseer of

66   J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 123–124, possibly a variant of the title ἰmy-r pr nfr(.w), for which see G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals Principally of the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period (Oxford, 1971), 92, no. 1182, and pl. 29, fig. 36. 67  See L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 63–64; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten der ägyptischen Zentralverwaltung zur Zeit des Mittleren Reiches: Prosopographie, Titel und Titelreihen (ACHET Schriften zur Ägyptologie A2; Berlin, 2003), 99 and 114. 68   For wdpw in Sinai, compare A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, The Inscriptions of Sinai 2 (EES Excavation Memoir 45; London, 1955), 230 (also appearing in a “confused” inscription in A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, The Inscriptions of Sinai 1 [EES Excavation Memoir 36; London, 1952], pl. 96); an wdpw appears on a tiny inscribed stone from Abu Ziyar on the Girga Road (J.C. Darnell, “The Girga Road: Abu Ziyar, Tundaba, and the Integration of the Southern Oases into the Pharaonic State,” in: Desert Road Archaeology in the Eastern Sahara, H. Riemer & F. Förster, eds. [Cologne, in press]); at the Gebel el-Asr site (J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, in Denkschrift Franke, on stelae JE 59485, 59489, 59491, and the stela in W.K. Simpson, HekaNefer and the Dynastic Material from Toshka and Arminna [New Haven, 1963], 50–1, fig. 41). 69   The inscriptions and archaeology of the Wadi el-Hudi reveal this diachronic shift. The site consists of three centers of Middle Kingdom activity that arrange themselves chronologically: an Eleventh Dynasty mine and fortified settlement (Site 5); a Twelfth Dynasty mine and fortress (Site 9); and a hill with inscriptions (Site 6). Although none of the Eleventh Dynasty inscriptions provide explicit information on the size or composition of the Egyptian contingent, the Site 5 settlement, which presumably housed the Egyptians, was small, consisting of only about 40 huts—I. Shaw & R. Jameson, “Amethyst Mining in the Eastern Desert: A Preliminary Survey at Wadi el-Hudi,”

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Egyptianized Nubians” who in turn liaised with local Nubians for mining labour,70 Twelfth Dynasty inscriptions describe larger expeditionary forces with a more complex administrative contingent.71 The continued employment of a Nubian workforce was offset by the selection of labor that was both unarmed and semi-acculturated.72 This apparently increased “colonial” approach to desert administration finds some reflection in Sesostris I’s network of Nubian ­fortresses73—of seven major projects that Sesostris I began in Nubia, five sat in close proximity to mining regions or desert routes: a drystone fort overlooked the Wadi el-Hudi amethyst mines; settlements at Aniba and Areika monitored the road from Toshka to the carnelian mines and diorite quarries; Ikkur sat opposite the re-envisioned Qubban at the mouth of the Wadi Allaqi. This group of symbiotically related fortifications extended Egyptian control from the processing of raw material and goods at nodes of contact with native Nubians to the JEA 79 (1993), 81–97; A.I. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi I, 1–2; A. Fakhry, The Inscriptions of the Amethyst Quarries at Wadi el-Hudi. (Cairo, 1952), 9–12. For changes in Nubian desert administration, see M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer. Much of this section relies heavily on Ms. Brown’s work and conclusions. 70  Compare the text in A.I. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi I, 10 (WH 4), describing an “army of the south coming thousand upon thousand,” and working alongside “every Nubian of Wawat” who comes “because of th[eir] Lord,” a designation conveying a sense of voluntary service (compare Urk. IV 132.5, and A.M. Bakir, Slavery in Pharaonic Egypt [CASAE 18; Cairo 1952], 16). 71  Compare WH 6—A.I. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi 1, p. 16. 72  In WH 6 (A.I. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi I, 16), beyond the enumeration of “1000 strong men” a workforce is conspicuously absent from the inventory. Attributed to the same individual (O.D. Berlev, “A Social Experiment in Nubia during the Years 9–17 of Sesostris I,” in: Labor in the Ancient Near East, M.A. Powell, ed. [AOS 68; New Haven, 1987], 143–57), WH 143 may confirm the continued employ of a Nubian workforce. 73  See inter alia F. Monnier, Les fortresses égyptiennes, du Prédynastiques au Nouvel Empire (Brussels, 2010); S.T. Smith, Askut in Nubia. The Economics and Ideology of Egyptian Imperialism in the Second Millennium B.C. (London-New York, 1995); B.B. Williams, “Serra East and the Mission of Middle Kingdom Fortresses in Nubia”, in: Gold of Praise: Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honor of Edward F. Wente, E. Teeter & J.A. Larson, eds. (SAOC 58; Chicago, 1999), 435–453; B. Gratien, “Départements et Institutions dans les Forteresses Nubiennes au Moyen Empire”, in: Hommages à Jean Leclant, II. (BdE 106/2, Cairo 1993), 185–197; Id., “Les Institutions égyptiennes en Nubia au Moyen Empire d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, CRIPEL 17/1 (1994), 149–166; Id., “Les fonctionnaires des sites égyptiens en Nubie au Moyen Empire”, in: Séhel, entre Égypte et Nubie. Inscriptions rupestres et graffiti de l’époque pharaonique, A. Gasse & V. Rondot, eds. (OrMonsp 14; Montpellier, 2003), 161–174; J. Wegner, “Regional Control in Middle Kingdom Lower Nubia: The Function and History of the Site of Areika,” JARCE 32 (1995), 127–60; J.C. Darnell & C.M. Manassa, Tutankhamun’s Armies (Hoboken, 2007), 93–102.



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provisioning of expeditions and the movement of goods and services from the Nubian deserts into Egypt.74 Along with the network of massive fortifications and smaller outposts along the Second Cataract, Middle Kingdom Egypt established a string of border defenses in the eastern Delta, known collectively as the “Wall of the Ruler.”75 A similar defensive line may have guarded the northwestern border and the desert routes nearby, although as yet a fortified temple in the Wadi Natrun is the only known element thereof, a harbinger to the string of fortresses that Ramesses II constructed in the far northwest.76 In the Wadi Natrun fortification of Amenemhat I, a temple structure appears to have taken pride of place, an indication that the priestly aspects of desert expeditions may have allowed the temple economies of the Nile Valley to maintain some oversight over their economic relations in remote areas. Personnel of the Middle Kingdom Mining Expeditions—The Sabastet Expeditions The organization of Egyptian mining expeditions, most profusely documented for the Middle Kingdom, is inconsistent, and suggests that in this type of undertaking, as in others, activities in the desert are not themselves centralized. They are extensions of some organization in the Nile Valley, the only desert aspects of the activity being present in the paramilitary groups—hunters, soldiers, etc.—who represent the patrols that might otherwise have roamed the area. In control of the expeditions to the Wadi el-Hudi, the early Eleventh Dynasty titles “steward” and “overseer of Egyptianized Nubians” give way under Sesostris I to sealers of various treasury departments, with later expeditions under 74  Cf. B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 233–240; B. Gratien, in: Hommages Leclant, II, 185–197; Id., CRIPEL 17/1 (1994), 149–166; Id., in: Séhel, 161–174. 75  S. Quirke, “Frontier or Border? The Northeast Delta in Middle Kingdom Texts,” in: The Archaeology, Geography and History of the Egyptian Delta in Pharaonic Times, A. Nibbi, ed. (Oxford, 1989), 261–274. 76   For the Wadi Natrun structure, see the preliminary publication of A. Fakhry, “Wâdi-el-Natrûn,” ASAE, 40 (1940), 837–848; later work by a French mission at the site has apparently concentrated exclusively on late material (cf. S. Marquié, “Les amphores trouvées dans le Wadi Natrun (Beni Salama et de Bir Hooker),” Cahiers de la céramique égyptienne 8 [2007], 77–114). For the Ramesside fortresses, see S. Snape & P. Wilson, Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham I: The Temple and Chapels (Bolton, 2007); S. Snape, “The Emergence of Libya on the Horizon of Egypt,” in: Mysterious Lands, D. O’Connor & S. Quirke, eds. (London, 2003), 93–106.

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a variety of seemingly lesser officials until an apparent reassertion of higher authority during the Thirteenth Dynasty.77 In Sinai, although ḫ tmw-nṯr appears as a title labeling the immediate function of the official, the highest bureaucratic designation of officials—initially including a nautical title and a herald, amongst others—becomes almost exclusively an ἰmy-r ʿẖnwty or ἰmy-r ʿẖnwty wr, often explicitly associated with the treasury.78 The titles of the leaders of expeditions to the Wadi Hammamat were more varied, with royal representatives for the early expeditions (such as “steward,” “vizier,” and “royal messenger”) giving way to a more militarized organization later.79 The reign of Amenemhat III witnessed intensive mining and quarrying activity throughout the deserts of Nubia, Egypt, and Sinai;80 particularly well-documented expeditions to the Gebel el-Asr quarries west of Toshka during that ruler’s regnal years 4 and 6 may serve as a case study of the organization of a Middle Kingdom expedition to

77   K.-J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu den Expeditionen des Mittleren Reiches in die OstWüste, (HÄB 15; Hildesheim, 1981), 115–131. For the archaeology of the site, see I. Shaw, Hatnub: Quarrying Travertine in Ancient Egypt (EES Excavation Memoir 88; London, 2010). 78   K.-J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu den Expeditionen, pp. 184–220; he notes that the designation ḫ tmw-nṯr may relate to the Sinai being an indisputable element of the region of T¡-nṯr. I. Shaw, Hatnub, 127, states that the overall controller was usually a ḫ tmw-nṯr “for most of the pharaonic period,” but this appears to be the case for the Old Kingdom only, and later is more restricted. Men with the simple title seal bearer could accompany a higher official in a paramilitary context (compare P.E. Newberry, El Bersheh Part I (The Tomb of Tehuti-Hetep), ASE 3 [London, 1894], pl. 29, bottom), and also appear as members of expeditions (See K.-J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu den Expeditionen, 18 and n. 13; compare also G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres, 50, pl. 2). These are probably attendants to an official (as in the el-Bersheh tomb cited above, and like Megegi following his senior Tjetji on the stela BM 614—see A.M. Blackman, “The Stele of Thethi, Brit. Mus. No. 614,” JEA 17 [1931], pl. 8), and not expedition leaders, although the titles could conceivably be clipped forms of the title ḫ tmw-nṯr (for which see P.-M. Chevereau, “Contribution a` la prosopographie des cadres militaires du Moyen Empire,” RdÉ 43 [1992], 11–16; E. Eichler, Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen des ägyptischen Alten Reiches [GOF IV/26; Wiesbaden, 1993], 234–254. As W.A. Ward, Essays on Feminine Titles of the Middle Kingdom and Related Subjects [Beirut, 1986], 126, notes: “if the title is simple ‘Sealer’ and no . . . specification is given, it is not possible to state what position a Sealer held.”). 79   For Hammamat expeditions, see the remarks of D. Farout, “La carrière du wḥ mw Ameny et l’organisation des expéditions au Ouadi Hammamat au Moyen Empire,” BIFAO, 94 (1994), 143–172; Seyfried, Beiträge zu den Expeditionen, 257–269. 80  E. Mahfouz, “Amenemhat III au Ouadi Gaouasis,” BIFAO 108 (2008), 273–275 (to which add the Gebel el-Asr material); I. Matzker, Die letzten Könige der 12. Dynastie (Frankfort am Main, 1986), 150–161; R. Leprohon, The Reign of Amenemhat III (unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Toronto, 1980), 217–227.



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a mining area to the Western Desert.81 The four stelae of the Sabastet group of stelae indicate that the Year 4 expedition was led by the ἰmy-r ʿẖnwty n pr-ḥ ḏ (“interior overseer of the treasury”) Dedusobek82 and the ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb (“trustworthy sealbearer”) Sabastet, the latter probably also a member of the treasury administration (  fig. 3).83 The ἰmy-r ʿẖnwty n pr-ḥ ḏ was under the authority of the ἰmy-r pr-ḥ ḏ, controller of the administrative apparatus of the central treasury (pr-ḥ ḏ), to which most expeditionary treasury officials are related, rather than to the other branch of the treasury, directed by the ἰmy-r ḫ tm.t, “overseer of sealed items”84 (although the ἰmy-r ḫ tm.t and his agents are also attested with expeditionary duties).85 The title ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb86 appears

81   This section summarizes J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, in: Denkschrift für D. Franke, based on initial examinations by D. Darnell and J.C. Darnell. 82  In Sinai, the grander title imy-r ʿẖnwty n pr-ḥ ḏ is common for expedition leaders in Sinai under Amenemhat III—S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Égypte, des origines à la fin du Moyen Empire (Paris, 2006), 341–342. The “interior overseers of the treasury” oversaw both expeditions in the hinterlands, and construction sites within the Nile Valley (S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC [London, 2004], 57). 83   Although rarely attested as a title for expedition leaders, a parallel exists in the ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb Sobekhotep who led a mining expedition to the Sinai during the reign of Amenemhat III—A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, Inscriptions of Sinai 2, 119–121 (nos. 116 + 164); in inscription no. 405 (ibid., 205–206), Sobekhotep has the title ḫ tmw-nṯr kf¡-ἰb “trustworthy sealer of the god”; K.-J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu dem Expeditionen, 179–180 and 205 (he suggests that the title should be read ḫ tmty-nṯr ḫ tmty kf¡-ἰb, and that the first title refers to Sobekhotep as expedition leader, while the second title refers to his association with the treasury; no evidence, however, confirms this suggestion). 84  See the cogent analysis of S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Égypte, 338–348, 400–411; cf. also W. Grajetzki, Two Treasurers of the Late Middle Kingdom (Oxford, 2001), 9. 85   W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 73. 86   The simple title (attested for members of nome administrations as well: cf. W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 156 n. 8) also appears as ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb n pr-ḥ ḏ (W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reiches [Leiden, 1958], 84; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 52–53; W.A. Ward, Index, 173 no. 1495; W. Grajetzki, Die höchsten Beamten, 78; Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Égypte, 373–374). The only other commonly attested addition to the title ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb is n ḫ rp k¡.t—note the full and abbreviated forms in I. Hein & H. Satzinger, Stelen des Mittleren Reiches (CAA Kuntshistorisches Museum, Wien, Lieferung 4; Mainz am Rhein, 1989), ÄS 105, 1/5–2/5.

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Figure 3. Gebel el-Asr Stela OE 59499, referring to an expedition during regnal year 4 of Amenemhat III, under the direction of the Interior Overseer of the Treasury Dedusobek (col. 1), and his father, the Trustworthy Sealbearer Sabastet (col. 4). (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University)



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in Nubia87 and the Eastern88 and Western89 Deserts suggests that the ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb may have been specifically appointed—probably by the ruler, outside of the treasury administration hierarchy—to lead a mission outside of the Nile Valley.90 These are the only two officials with treasury titles recorded on the stelae of the Sabastet expedition,91 and the remaining personnel divide into two categories: stone-workers and military/paramilitary units.92 The stone-working groups in the Sabastet texts include ἰky.w, “quarrymen” (JE 59499, l. 8), ms.w-ʿ¡.t, “stone-cutters” (JE 59484, ll. 3–4), and an ἰmy-r wʿr.t ms-ʿ¡.t, “overseer of a guild of stone-cutters” (JE 59499, l. 11). These terms refer to two groups of specialized workmen: the ἰky.w possessed particular skills for the digging of galleries/pits for stone extraction, while the ms.w-ʿ¡.t were trained in the extraction and refining of semi-precious stones.93 Additionally, one individual holds the otherwise unattested title, sš wʿr.t Nḫ n, “scribe of the district of Nekhen,” which similar titles relate to the procurement of men and

87   B. Gratien, “Les fonctionnaires des sites égyptiens de Nubie au Moyen Empire,” in A. Gasse & V. Rondot, Séhel entre Égypte et Nubie (Montpellier, 2004), 171 (most from rock inscriptions at Kumma). 88  E.g. Wadi el-Hudi no. 17 (A. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi I, 38–39); Wadi Magharah (A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, Inscriptions of Sinai I, pl. 13, no. 30; Amenemhat III, Year 43); Ain Sukhna (M. Abd el-Raziq, et al., Les inscriptions d’Ayn Soukhna [MIFAO 122; Cairo, 2002], 44–45, inscription no. 6, l. 4). 89  G. Castel & P. Tallet, “Les inscriptions d’El-Harra, oasis de Bahareya,” BIFAO 101 (2001), 108–110. 90  Compare S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 52–53. The title appears in a damaged section of the Duties of the Vizier (see G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier, Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom [London, 1988], 287, correcting his transliteration). The Old Kingdom title ḫ tmw nṯr may have been similar to the later ḫ tmw kf¡-ἰb in the realm of royal appointments for specific missions to desert and foreign areas—see K.O. Kuraszkiewicz, “The title ḫ tmty-nṯr—god’s sealer—in the Old Kingdom,” in The Old Kingdom: Art and Archaeology, M. Bárta, ed. (Prague, 2006), 193–202. 91   The “sealbearer” Samut named on the offering table JE 59503 may also have accompanied the expedition. 92   An overview of mining personnel and labor organization on mining expeditions appears in I. Shaw, “Exploiting the desert frontier: the logistics and politics of ancient Egyptian mining expeditions,” in: Social Approaches to an Industrial Past: The Archaeology and Anthropology of Mining, A.B. Knapp, V.C. Pigott & E.W. Herbert, eds. (London, 1998), 242–258. Note that the text in G. Posener, “Un stèle de Hatnoub,” JEA 54 (1968), 67–70 (text pl. IX, ll. 7–8) suggests that the ἰky.w on an expedition could well be literate. 93  See K.-J. Seyfried, Beiträge zu dem Expeditionen, 207–212; J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, in Denkschrift Franke.

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material from a large area of Upper Egypt.94 This title appears to relate to a revival of titles such as the s¡b r¡-Nḫ n.95 The military personnel of the Sabastet expeditions are diverse: ḏ¡m.w, nfr.w, and ʿḥ ¡wty.w troops all appear in JE 59499 (ll. 9 and 12). The final line of JE 59499 states that 100 nfr.w and 10 ʿḥ ¡wty.w accompanied the Sabastet mission at Gebel el-Asr, indicating, along with other sources, that the latter possessed more training and experience. Another important official was the ἰmy-r nw.w, “overseer of rangers,” who appears to have been part of the vanguard of Sabastet’s mission (JE 59499, l. 6); other examples of ἰmy-r nw.w in expeditionary contexts suggest that the overseer of rangers might have interfaced with local, Nubian tribesmen as well.96 As with the earliest expeditions, treasury officials are important in all expeditionary matters. Either the mission is acquisitive and produces materials that must be sealed, in addition to those that must be opened as provisions, or the expenditures of the venture, whether militaristic or exploratory, still require the unlocking of official materials such as provisions. For all desert activity, officials who claim a special royal confidence may be present. A dual reporting system appears to have been in effect, as with later patrols on the Sinn el-Kaddab (see below), and the grouping of high treasury official and trustworthy seal bearer may represent a sharing of responsibility between a high official in an established hierarchy of reporting—the “interior overseer of the treasury”—and an official who was expected to report directly to a higher authority, presumably the ruler or vizier, with a parallel report—the “trustworthy seal bearer.” According to the text on a rock-cut stela along the Egyptian-Nubian border at Aswan, a ḫ tmw   For the waret’s of the north, south, and Head of the South, and their economic relationships to other portions of the administration, see R.J. Leprohon, “Some Remarks on the ‘Administrative Department’ (wʿr.t) of the Late Middle Kingdom,” JSSEA 10 (1980), 161–171. On the different titles employing the element wʿr.t, see S. Quirke, “‘Art’ and ‘the Artist’ in late Middle Kingdom administration,” in: Discovering Egypt from the Neva, The Egyptological Legacy of Oleg D Berlev, S. Quirke, ed. (Berlin, 2003), 90–97. 95   J.C. Darnell, “Pharaonic Rock Inscriptions from HK 64 (Chiefly of the Second Intermediate Period and Early New Kingdom),” in: R. Friedman, et al., “Preliminary Report on Field Work at Hierakonpolis: 1996–1998,” JARCE 36 (1999), 27. 96   For the nw.w and foreign groups, compare J. Couyat & P. Montet, Ouadi Hammamat, pp. 82–83. (Wadi Hammamat 114, ll. 10–12); P. Newberry, Beni Hasan Part I (London, 1893), pl. 30 (for the Asiatics in the scene, see S. Aufrère, “The Deserts and the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Upper Egyptian Nomes during the Middle Kingdom,” in: Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the Desert, R. Friedman, ed. [London, 2002], 210–211). 94



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kf¡-ἰb Hepu explains that he came:97 “to perform an inventory in the fortresses of Lower Nubia.” Textual Expressions of Middle Kingdom Administration—The Deserts and Paleography Desert roads also served as postal routes, initially for runners and later for mounted couriers, at least some of them official messengers.98 The Old Kingdom title ἰmy-r3 mnw.w-nsw.t, “overseer of the mnw-forts of the king,” designated an official in charge of district fortification towers that may have formed posts for signaling or message relays.99 Inscriptions of Egyptian couriers—bearing the titles sἰnw, “express courier,” and wpwty-nsw.t, “royal messenger”—occur at the Wadi el-Hôl site in the Western Desert, associated with the name of a “General of Asiatics (ʿ¡m.w).”100 Like other Western Asiatic groups working with Egyptian expeditions in the Sinai (see above) the Asiatic troops attested in the Wadi el-Hôl (a group composed of both men and women, if one may judge by the determinatives in the inscription) may have provided logistical support for the Egyptian couriers, further suggesting that mobile paramilitary bases under the command of a general may have provided intermediate rest facilities and provisioning for more rapidly moving individuals and small groups in the desert.

  97   J. de Morgan, Catalogue des monuments et inscriptions de l’Egypte ancienne I.1 (Vienna, 1894), 25 no. 178; on the date of the text, see W.A. Murnane, Ancient Egyptian Coregencies (Chicago: SAOC 40, 1977), 7 and n. 27, and A. Hutterer, “Nochmals zur Lesung der Felsstele des ʾIpw bei Assuan,” in: Texte–Theben–Tonfragmente, Festschrift für Günter Burkard, D. Kessler, et al., eds. (ÄAT 76; Wiesbaden, 2009), 214–222.   98   The presence of the names of foreign couriers in execration texts—G. Posener, Cinq figurines d’envoûtement (BdE 101; Cairo, 1987), 41–42—suggests that such traffic in messages along the desert roads may not have been one way.   99  E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, pp. 202–203. On towers see also E. Martin-Pardey, Untersuchungen zur ägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung bis zum Ende des Alten Reichs (HÄB 1; Hildesheim, 1976), 82–84, although the apparent ḫ 3s.t-sign at the top is probably only a representation of crenellations. 100   J.C. Darnell & C. Dobbs-Allsopp, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions from the Wadi el-Hôl: New Evidence for the Origin of the Alphabet from the Western Desert of Egypt (Annual of ASOR 59; Boston, 2005), 85–90 and 102–106. The more “literary” designation of the express courier, sḫ 3ḫ .ty, appears in the Satire of the Trades (W. Helck, Lehre des Dw3-Ḫ ty, 97, XVIe, and pp. 98–99).

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The numerous inscriptions left by desert expeditions provide evidence for the “daybook” style,101 suggesting that scribes—particularly associated with or belonging to the treasury102—maintained a diary of the desert missions. The scribes who left the rock inscriptions of desert expeditions continued a paleographic tradition originating during the Old Kingdom, and created a reasonably standardized synthesis of hieratic and hieroglyphic sign forms, marrying the relative speed of hieratic with the formality of hieroglyphs and creating a lapidary hieratic script103 ideally suited to the requirements of expeditions in desert regions. As with Nubians, Asiatic auxiliary troops are attested in Middle Kingdom Egypt, with their own scribes,104 and functioned as armed support elements for Egyptian quarrying expeditions in Sinai;105 at least on certain occasions, even Asiatic groups might assist Egyptian expeditions in areas far removed from their homelands,106 just as their Nubian counterparts did with seemingly greater frequency.107 Out of the interac H. Grapow, Studien zu den Annalen Thutmosis des Dritten und zu ihnen verwandten historischen Berichten des Neuen Reiches (Berlin 1949), 50–54; see the expanded description of the genre in A.J. Spalinger, Aspects of the Military Documents of the Ancient Egyptians (New Haven, 1983), 120–128. On the early appearance of evidence for the daybooks, see J.C. Darnell, ZÄS 130 (2003), 35–36 (n. h), 38 (n. a), 41 (n. d), and 48; J. Hsieh, “Grammatical Analysis and Commentary on Four Gebel el-Girgawi Rock-Cut Stelae Dated to the Middle Kingdom,” ZÄS (forthcoming). 102   As the Annals of Thutmosis III seem to suggest—D. Redford, Pharaonic KingLists, Annals, and Day-books (Mississauga, 1986), p. 101. 103   For the Old Kingdom see H. Vandekerckhove & R. Müller-Wollermann, Die Felsinschriften des Wadi Hilâl (Elkab 6; Turnhout, 2001), 347–349; for lapidary hieratic see inter alia J.C. Darnell & C. Dobbs-Allsopp, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions); M. Ali, Hieratische Ritzinschriften aus Theben (GOf IV/34; Wiesbaden, 2002), 12–22. 104   For Asiatic troops see the references in G. Posener, “Syria and Palestine, c. 2160– 1780 B.C.,” in: The Cambridge Ancient History 3rd ed., vol. 1, part 2, I.E.S. Edwards, C.J. Gadd & N.G.L. Hammond, eds. (Cambridge, 1971), 542; for the title “scribe of the Asiatics,” see U. Kaplony-Heckel, Ägyptische Handschriften I, 3 and 5–6 (compare also the apparent Asiatic who was both scribe and priest in a Sinai inscription—A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, Inscriptions of Sinai 1, pl. 46—discussed in J.C. Darnell & C. Dobbs-Allsop, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions). 105  See D. Valbelle & H. Bonnet, Le Sanctuaire d’Hathor, maîtresse de la turquoise (Paris, 1996), 34–35 and 147; A.H. Gardiner, T.E. Peet & J. Černy, Inscriptions of Sinai II, 19 and 206; R. Giveon, The Stones of Sinai Speak (Tokyo, 1978), 131–135; J.C. Darnell & C. Dobbs-Allsopp, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions, 87–90 and 102–106. 106  Note the inscription of the “general of the Asiatics, Bebi,” and the Early Alphabetic inscriptions probably originating with those very auxiliary troops, in the Wadi e-Hôl—Darnell & Dobbs-Allsopp, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions. 107  Compare the settlements of “pacified Nubians” already during the Old Kingdom, and the far ranging activities of the Nubian Tjehemau at the dawn of the Middle 101



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tions of Egyptian scribes and Asiatic support elements of expeditions arose an Early Alphabetic script during the Middle ­Kingdom.108 Emplacements in the Desert—Huts, Cisterns, and Patrolmen The physical infrastructure at Kurkur Oasis, a hub of desert routes, and at Abu Ziyar, along the Girga Road, were nodes of permanent Egyptian presence within a system of road-monitoring that appears to have relied primarily on mobile patrols. Rock inscriptions along roads within the Qena Bend indicate that most desert policing was performing by roving units.109 Such paramilitary units probably made use of the numerous groupings of dry-stone tent bases that occur— with consistent kits of “government issue” ceramics—at various points on the desert roads of Egypt.110 The numerous rock inscriptions of various Middle Kingdom police and military officials, in the Egyptian and Nubian deserts—in evidence both in names with titles (see below) groupings of names at strategic locations,111 and the occasional depiction of a patrolman112—provide some evidence on the administration of the desert regions, independent of the expeditions that moved through those areas. Kingdom (Darnell, ZÄS 130 [2003], 31–48; Id., ZÄS 131 [2004], 23–37). Note also the statement of the overseer of Nubian troops and general of the army Antef: ἰw ḫ d.kwἰ ḫ nt.kwi [ḥ nʿ] r-p[ʿ.t] ḥ ¡ty-[ʿ] ḥ ry-tp ʿ¡ n Šmʿ Intf, “I travelled north and south with the nomarch Antef ” (Clère & Vandier, Textes de la première période intermédiaire, p. 7, no. 11, ll. 2–3). 108   J.C. Darnell and C. Dobbs-Allsopp, et al., Two Early Alphabetic Inscriptions; see also G. J. Hamilton, The Origins of the West Semitic Alphabet in Egyptian Scripts (Washington, D.C., 2006). 109   The border patrol could be termed the pẖr.t—compare Wb. I 548, 17; Z. Žaba, The Rock Inscriptions of Lower Nubia (Czechoslovak Concession) (Prague, 1974), 75 and 85. See important conclusions in D. Darnell, Securing his Majesty’s Borders (forthcoming). 110   These kits include most commonly ovoid silt jars, globular Marl A3 vessels, and the ubiquitous Middle Kingdom hemispheric cups—see the comments in J.C. Darnell & D. Darnell, “Theban Desert Road Survey,” Oriental Institute Annual Report 1996–1997 (Chicago, 1997), 66–76; M. Chartier-Raymond, et al., “Les Sites miniers pharaoniques du Sud-Sinaï, Quelques notes et observations de terrain,” CRIPEL 16 (1994), 61–64; D. Dunham, Second Cataract Forts II: Uronarti, Shalfak, Mirgissa (Boston, 1967), 141–142; D. Darnell, Securing his Majesty’s Borders. 111  H. Smith, “The Rock Inscriptions of Buhen,” JEA 58 (1972), 55–58; Cl. Obsomer, Sesostris Ier, 284–286. 112   J.C. Darnell, “Opening the Narrow Doors of the Desert: Discoveries of the Theban Desert Road Survey,” in: Egypt and Nubia—Gifts of the Desert, R. Friedman, ed. (London, 2002), 145.

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A title that appears several times at the Gebel Tjauti rock inscription site is ἰmy-r šnṯ, referring to an official who appears to have functioned much like the “sheriff ” of the nineteenth century American West (  fig. 4).113 The reason for his presence in the “wild west” of the Egyptian Western Desert receives some clarification from a passage in the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant, in which the peasant likens an official to an ἰmy-r šnṯ, a ḥ q3 ḥ w.t, and an imy-r w.114 With the second and third of these titles referring respectively to authority over economic hubs115—and the agricultural lands over which they exercised control—and marginal areas outside of the Nilotic regimen,116 the first title—ἰmy-r šnṯ—should somehow approximate the authority of the other two titles, but cover a third sort of area, perhaps one belonging neither to ḥ w.t or w, perhaps covering both the “incorporated” areas of the other two titles, and the great stretches of “unincorporated” areas that lay between, and even surrounded, the others. As a probable representative of the royal administration,117 the “sheriff ” may ultimately represent a royal oversight and fact-finding official who investigates the activities of other officials in both the Black and Red Lands, overseeing the collection of the produce of those marginal areas as well.118 113  So D. Franke, Das Heiligtum des Heqaib, 59 and n. 185; for the title see also G. Andreu, “Deux stèles de commissaires de police (ἰmy-r šnṯ) de la Première Période Intermédiaire,” CRIPEL 13 (1991), 17–23. 114   F. Vogelsang & A.H. Gardiner, Literarische Texte des Mittleren Reiches I Die Klagen des Bauern (Hieratische Papyrus aus den königlichen Museen zu Berlin 4; Leipzig, 1908), pl. 12, ll. 192–193; p. 31 ll. 12–13. 115   The title ḥ q3 ḥ w.t in the passage from the Eloquent Peasant is essentially anachronistic for the ḥ ¡ty-ʿ that was already replacing the earlier title—see the full discussion in J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt, 188–194. 116  See the discussion of w in B. Russo, The Territory w and Related Titles during the Middle Kingdom and the Second Intermediate Period (Golden House Publications Egyptology 13; London, 2010). Compare also P. Anastasi IV 10, 5: m ḏd n¡ mnἰ.w m sḫ .t n¡ rḫ ty.w ḥ r mrw n¡ mḏ¡ἰ.w pr p¡ w n¡ gḥ sy.w ḥ r mrw, “so say the herdsmen in the field, the washermen at the river bank; the Medjoy of the unincorporated regions, and the gazelle on the desert.” The Medjoy are associated with the realms beyond the influence of the Nile, apparently a bridge between the world of fields and riverbank mentioned just before, and the animals of the true desert and humanly uninhabited world. 117  In the Instruction for the Vizier, the “sheriff ” is assigned to the ḫ ¡ ny Pr-nsw.t (see Moreno García, Ḥ wt, 190–193). 118  In his biography on the “second” stela in his Dra Abu-n-Naga tomb, the Eighteenth Dynasty chief treasurer Djehuty (time of Hatshepsut) relates that at the beginning of his career he was appointed to the position of šn.t-policeman (Urk. IV p. 436, l. 3); in this capacity he oversaw the collection of the “annual tax” of some foreign



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Figure 4.  The four signatures of the Sheriff Merer from Gebel Tjauti. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University, published in Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, pp. 61–64 and pls. 35–38)

The imy-r šnṯ Senwosretsoneb, recorded in a Nubian rock inscription, also assumed a string of exhaulted titles (r-pʿ.t ḥ 3ty-ʿ r3-ʿ3 Šmʿw W3s.t T3-sty, “prince and count of the (narrow) door (of the desert) of Upper Egypt, of Thebes and Nubia”) that link him with desert routes between the Thebaïd and Nubia.119 The activities of the ἰmy-r šnṯ might

land (ḥ tr n tnw rnp.t—ibid., 436, ll. 4–5), and the “[tribute of the] northern [bed]ouin” ([ἰnw ḥ ry.w-š]ʿ mḥ t.t—ibid., 436 7–11). 119  Hintze, Reineke, with Hintze and Burkhardt, Felsinschriften, 126, no. 451, and pl. 172). For another ἰmy-r šnṯ with probable desert duties, see E.J. Brovarski, The Inscribed Material of the First Intermediate Period from Naga-Ed-Der (Chicago, unpublished PhD dissertation, 1994), 402–404.

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extend to strengthening the borders (srwḏ t¡š.w) through his oversight of the delivery of bricks.120 Other paramilitary officials mentioned at desert sites, apparently representative on the whole of an expansion of the police titles—if not presence—on the desert roads and at desert installations of the late Middle Kingdom, are the s¡-pr-policemen—appearing with both the simple title and in the slightly more exalted ἰmy-ḫ t s¡-pr121—the sḫ m-ʿ,122 the ¡ṯw n ṯ.t-ḥ q¡,123 the ʿnḫ n ṯ.t-ḥ q¡,124 and probably also the ἰmy-r šnṯ. Their duties almost certainly included both the patrolling and clearing of the desert roads, and the control of material passing along those roads.125 Expeditions also received support from desert rangers or frontiersmen, the nw.w-hunters,126 who routinely interacted with various foreign groups.127 Dakhla, the outpost of Old Kingdom Egypt in the west, continued to oversee desert passes in and out of the distant oasis,128 and Baha Stela MFA 13.3967/20.1222—R.J. Leprohon, “A New Look at an Old Object,” JSSEA 12 (1982), 75–76. 121  See the discussions with references in J. Yoyotte, “Un corps de police de l’Égypte pharaonique,” RdÉ 9 (1952), 139–151; J.C. Moreno Garcia, Ḥ wt, 224–225. For desert examples, note G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres, 54–55, 65–66, and 81–85, and pls. 7, 11, and 23–24 (nos. 20, 33, and 61); J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 56–58 and 60–61; I. Régen & G. Soukiassian, Gebel Zeit II. Le materiel inscrit (FIFAO 57; Cairo, 2008), 43. For the Old Kingdom already, see E. Eichler, Expeditionswesen, 209–210. 122   J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey 1, p. 59. 123  Ibid.; see also J.C. Darnell, in: Friedman, et al., JARCE 36 (1999), 23–26, for such officers at the rock outcropping Hk64, to the northwest of Hierakonpolis proper, overlooking the Darb Gallaba. 124  E.g. at Gebel el-Asr—J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, Denkschrift Franke—and in a number of Nubian rock inscriptions. 125   According to Wadi Hammamat 114, ll. 11–12 (J. Couyat & P. Montet, Ouadi Hammamat, 83 and pl. 31), the s¡-pr-policemen were clearing the way (ḥ r ḏsr w¡.t) and felling the rebel (ḥ r sḫ r.t sbἰ). 126   Kay was an ἰmy-r nw.w (R. Anthes, ZÄS 65 [1930]: 108–114); other examples are K. Seyfried, Beiträge zu dem Expeditionen, 90–91; G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres, no. 61; J. Couyat & P. Montet, Ouadi Hammamat, 82–83 (specifying their function as “bodyguards”); J.C. Darnell & C. Manassa, in Denkschrift Franke. 127   An ἰmy-r nw.w introduces the Asiatics in the tomb of Khnumhotep at Beni Hassan (P. Newberry, Beni Hasan Part I [London, 1893], pl. 30), and the nw.w are associated with “children of the desert” in Wadi Hammamat Inscription No. 114 (J. Couyat & P. Montet, Ouadi Hammamat, 82–83). An apparent association between an ἰmy-r ἰʿ¡.w and an ἰmy-r nw.w appears on the stela CG 20186 (H.O. Lange and H. Schäfer, Grab- und Denksteine des Mittleren Reiches [Cairo, 1902], 215). 128  Compare J. Osing, “Notizen zu den Oasen Charga und Dachla,” GM 92 (1986), 81–82; M. Baud, F. Colin & P. Tallet, “Les gouverneurs de l’oasis de Dakhla au Moyen Empire,” BIFAO 99 (1999), 1–19; G. Burkard, “Inscription in the Dakhla Region,” 120



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riya as well witnessed the passage of a number of Middle Kingdom visitors.129 The Abu Ballas track southwest of Dakhla appears to preserve the remains of a caravan road, and evidence for the provisioning thereof, probably from the time of the early Middle Kingdom’s expansion into the deserts, apparently accessing the region of Gebel Uweinat, and points beyond.130 The Girga Road—the major artery of traffic between the Thebaïd and Upper Egypt—provides some of the most abundant and informative remains of Middle Kingdom through New Kingdom activity in the Western Desert, and preserves evidence of changes in the relationship of the western oases to the Upper Egyptian economy. During the early Middle Kingdom, apparently as part of the implementation of Monthuhotep II’s plan to integrate the oases into the Upper Egyptian economy, the Nilotic administration established an outpost at a site (Abu Ziyar) approximately one third of the way out from the Nile Valley along the Girga Road.131 The site measures approximately 55m east to west by 45m north to south, with a large, dry stone structure in the southwest area, and consists primarily of the remains of hundreds of Marl C storage jars. The latter alone are sufficient indication that the site was provisioned from the Residence at Itjy-Tawy.132 Most of the other ceramic material at the site is also of Nile Valley manufacture, with only a few sherds of oasis fabric present. The closest parallel to this outpost, with its plethora of large storage jars, is at the Gebel el-Asr quarry site,133 a similarity that reinforces the impression of Abu Ziyar as an outpost outfitted by the central Sahara 9 (1997), 152–153, with corrections in J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 73, and the discussion in F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg (forthcoming). 129  G. Castel & P. Tallet, BIFAO 101 (2001), 99–136. 130   F. Förster, “With donkeys, jars and water bags into the Libyan Desert: the Abu Ballas Trail in the late Old Kingdom/First Intermediate Period,” British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan 7 (2007), 1–36 (http://www.thebritishmuseum.ac.uk/ research/publications/bmsaes/issue_7/foerster.aspx); Id., Der Abu Ballas-Weg. 131   Preliminary publication in J.C. Darnell, in Desert Road Archaeology; see also J.C. Darnell, with D. Darnell, “Abu Ziyar and Tundaba,” at www.yale.edu/egyptology/ ae_tundaba.htm. 132   For Marl C vessels as material of Memphite manufacture, see D. Arnold, “The Pottery,” in: Die. Arnold, The Pyramid of Senwosret I (South Cemeteries of Lisht 1; New York, 1988), 112–116; B. Bader, Typologie und Chronologie der Mergel C-Ton Keramik. Materialien zum Binnenhandel des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit (Tell El-Dabʿa 13; Vienna, 2001), 30–36; the Abu Ziyar jars are of a clear early Middle Kingdom form—ibid., 155–160. 133  I. Shaw, “The 1997 Survey of the Ancient Quarrying Site of Gebel el-Asr (‘The Chephren Diorite Quarries’) in the Toshka Region,” ASAE 74 (1999), 63–67; I. Shaw

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administration for the control of a route between the Nile Valley and Kharga Oasis, probably intended for the development of the latter. The shape of the Marl C zirs, the vessel indices of the hemispheric cups,134 and other particulars of the ceramic corpus at the site, along with the parallels for the sigillographic material from the site, point to an early Twelfth Dyansty date for the outpost, probably during the reign of Sesostris I; a c-14 date from an ash pit to the west of the dry stone structure is consistent with this date.135 Early Middle Kingdom mud sealings provide evidence for careful Middle Kingdom administration at the site.136 The surviving fragments—most of Nilotic clay, with a few of probable oasis origin— derive from thirteen different seals; names are not in evidence, as befits the early Middle Kingdom date of the corpus.137 Most are oval sealings from smaller containers, with one large sealing from what appears to have been a large vessel. The large sealing (site Type IV)(  fig. 5) contains the hieroglyphic group pr-ḥ ḏ, “treasury,” stamped by a seal that may have belonged to a “scribe responsible for the seal of the treasury” (sš ḥ ry-ḫ tm n pr-ḥ ḏ), well attested in Upper Egypt and at the Nubian

& E. Bloxam, “Survey and Excavations at the Ancient Pharaonic Gneiss Quarrying Site of Gebel El-Asr, Lower Nubia,” Sudan and Nubia 3 (1999), 13–20. 134   202 for the Nilotic cups, 210 adding an oasis cup as well—compare Do. Arnold, in: Die. Arnold, Pyramid of Senwosret I, 140–143; C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII: Untersuchungen in der Stadt des Mittleren Reiches und der Zweiten Zwischenzeit (Archäologische Veröffentlichungen 91; Mainz, 1996), 186–188. 135  Conventional 14C age: 3605 +/- 48BP (13C measured of 25.047% vs PDB); calibrated 14C date: 2026 BC: 1904 BC 68.2% (1 sigma) (IFAO Sample 234). 136  Close parallels appear in the corpora from Abu Ghâlib in the western Delta (T. Bagh, “Early Middle Kingdom Seals and Sealings from Abu Ghâlib in the Western Nile Delta—Observations”, in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, M. Bietak and E. Czerny, eds. [Vienna, 2004], 13–25; Id., “Abu Ghâlib, an early Middle Kingdom Town in the Western Nile Delta: Renewed Work on Material Excavated in the 1930s,” MDAIK 58 [2002], 29–61; S.J. Seidlmayer, Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich [SAGA 1; Heidelberg, 1990], 389–392; cf. D. Ben-Tor, “The Absolute Date of the Montet Jar Scarabs,” in: Ancient Egyptian and Mediterranean Studies in Memory of William A. Ward, L.H. Lesko, ed. [Providence 1998], 1–17), with additional design parallels from seals and scarabs at Elephantine (von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, 242–249) and the Nubian forts (S.T. Smith, “Sealing Practice at Askut and the Nubian Fortresses: Implications for Middle Kingdom Scarab Chronology and Historical Synchronisms,” in: Scarabs of the Second Millennium BC, 203–219). 137  See G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, 3; D. BenTor, “Egyptian-Levantine Relations and Chronology in the Middle Bronze Age: Scarab Research” in: The Synchronisation of Civilisations in the Eastern Mediterranean in the Second Millennium B.C. 2, M. Bietak, ed. (Vienna, 2003), 241–242.



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Figure 5.  Four different types of sealings—including the Treasury sealing— from the site of Abu Ziyar, on the Girga Road between the Nile and Kharga Oasis. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University)

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fortresses.138 The pr-ḥ ḏ, an administrative department present in the Second Cataract forts, was concerned with the provisioning of expeditions.139 The one institution directly named in the surviving sigillographic material from Abu Ziyar is the treasury, the institution most consistently present in the directorship of mining expeditions. Pot marks on large storage jars include pre-firing and post-firing marks, some of the latter exactly reproducing the former; pre-firing marks appear on the exterior body and interior rim, while post-firing marks are all on the exterior—in the form of graffiti-like scratched lines and small, circular boring (the latter perhaps indicative of some sort of dry measure), and at least one ink annotation—often close to earlier, pre-firing marks. These non-textual marks, present at other sites provisioned with Marl C storage jars,140 appear to reveal some checking or certification of the contents of the vessels, and provide yet further evidence for the care with which the Middle Kingdom bureaucracy tracked supplies in the deserts. Other ingot-like sealings at Abu Ziyar—all secondarily fired—are papyrus sealings, their condition suggesting that the papyri that surely once arrived at the site were, with their sealings, were systematically burned.141 Although few Middle Kingdom document sealings appear to survive at Elephantine, the more common occurrence of such at the fortress of Buhen,142 along with the sealings at Abu Ziyar, suggests that reports such as those documented in the Semna Dispatches may have been penned and read at remote sites.

138  S. Desplancques, L’institution du Trésor en Égypte des origines à la fin du Moyen Empire (Paris, 2006), 386–387; for the related title ḫ tmw pr-ḥ ḏ, “sealer of the treasury,” see ibid., 373–374. A close parallel to the impression is the seal G.T. Martin, Egyptian Administrative and Private-Name Seals, p. 142 [1844] and pl. 47 [20]. 139   B. Gratien, “Départements et institutions dans les forteresses nubiennes au Moyen Empire,” in: Hommages à Jean Leclant 2, C. Berger, G. Clerc & N. Grimal, eds. (BdÉ 106/2; Cairo, 1994), 188–190 and 192. 140  See I. Shaw, “Non-Textual Marks and the Twelfth Dyansty Dynamics of Centre and Periphery: a Case-Study of Potmarks at the Gebel El-Asr Gneiss Quarries,” in: Non-Textual Marking Systems, Writing and Pseudo Scripts from Prehistory to Modern Times, P. Andrássy, J. Budka & F. Kammerzell, eds. (Lingua Aegyptia-Studia Monographica 8; Göttingen, 2009), 69–82. 141  Types D and C of C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, 238; J. Wegner, The Mortuary Temple of Senwosret III at Abydos (New Haven, 2007), 300–304; for the burning, compare C. von Pilgrim, Elephantine XVIII, 234. 142  H. Smith, Fortress of Buhen, The Inscriptions (EES Excavation Memoir 48; London, 1976), pp. 23ff.



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Other evidence from Abu Ziyar refers to an official of a sort not commonly attested in mining expeditions, in charge of men who are not specified by occupation. Ostracon Abu Ziyar 2, a small “calling card” written on a piece of limestone in a Middle Kingdom bureaucratic hieratic hand, records a work foreman (ṯsw)143 and his crew of apparently 300 men (s.w, not ἰkwy.w or ẖ rty.w-nṯr of the usual mining inscriptions), apparently tax laborers, evidence for at least one government managed work crew at Abu Ziyar.144 The 300 men probably represent one of a number of groups traveling from the Nile Valley to Kharga Oasis, to judge from the overwhelmingly Nilotic ceramic material, quite possibly on the way to Kharga Oasis as part of the early Middle Kingdom’s efforts to integrate the oases into the Upper Egyptian economy. Middle Kingdom through Second Intermediate Period outposts might also provision allied foreign groups as well as Egyptian caravans. The Late Middle Kingdom (Thirteenth Dyansty, reign of Sobekhotep II) P. Boulaq 18 refers to the official provisioning of certain Medjoy visitors, who may have been patrolmen in the service of the Upper Egyptian administration.145 Changes in Desert Policy and Administration during the New Kingdom After the reorganization of the state and its administrative titles at the end of the Second Intermediate Period, pharaonic control of the hinterlands of the Nile Valley and the desert roads thereof, the pharaonic presence in the deserts-undergoes some basic changes. Although early New Kingdom officials in the regions of Thinis and Thebes might, like their Coptite predecessors of the late Old Kingdom and First

 S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux, 83 and 102.   They are from the administrative world of the Reisner Papyri; note, however, that at least one ṯsw is attested in the Wadi el-Hudi material (A. Sadek, Wadi el-Hudi I, 56 and possibly 74 [nos. 30 and 90B]). The ṯsw in the Wadi el-Hôl may well also be in charge of workmen. 145   A. Scharff, “Ein Rechnungsbuch des königlichen Hofes aus der 13. Dynastie,” ZÄS 57 (1922), 60–61; S. Quirke, The Administration of Egypt in the Late Middle Kingdom, the Hieratic Documents (New Malden, 1990), 19–22; A.J. Spalinger, “Foods in P. Boulaq 18,” SAK 13 (1986), 222. D.B. Redford, From Slave to Pharaoh (Baltimore, 2004), 33 and n. 21, assumed that the provisioning was given to visiting representatives of Nubian polities. 143 144

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­Intermediate Period, acquire several titles giving them oversight of areas and duties in the Western Desert,146 no general Nilotic hegemony is established over the oases. A few oasis mayors are attested, with the title ḥ¡.ty-ʿ n wḥ¡.t alone, or with the specification “southern oasis” (wḥ¡.t rsy.t, Kharga and Dakhla) or “northern oasis” (wḥ¡.t mḥt.yt, Bahariya).147 Priestly associations of the Abydene area and northern Upper Egypt with the southern oases appear,148 and as late as the final pre-Ptolemaic dynasties (ca. 28–30) an administrator might combine fairly sweeping Upper Egyptian duties with oversight in the oases.149 Royal interest in desert matters, and the oversight of activities by officials claiming a direct and even confidential relationship to the person of the ruler, is a theme of desert administration that continues from the Coptite confidants of the king, appearing in the titles of royal heralds involved in desert activities, like their Middle Kingdom predecessors, and in the royal messengers as well.150 Royal butlers—many of whom were themselves Egyptianized foreigners—also represented the ruler in desert activities.151

146  See the references in B. Bryan, “Administration in the Reign of Thutmose III,” in: Thutmose III: A New Biography, E.H. Cline and D. O’Connor, eds. (Ann Arbor, 2006), 100 and 104 (Thinite mayors Antef and Min); L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 69 (Antef) and 71 (Min); other officials overseeing oasian products, probably as part of royal oversight of the normal economic procedures, note the examples ibid., 70–74. 147  See the references ibid., 81–82. 148  Compare the titles of the Nineteenth Dynasty official Parennefer (CGC 586— Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 82–83), who was both “chief commissary officer of the estate of Osiris in the Southern Oasis” (ἰmy-r s.t n pr-Wsἰr m wḥ ¡.t rsy.t) and “agent un the estate of Osiris in the Southern Oasis” (rwḏw m pr-Wsἰr m wḥ ¡.t rsy.t); for further religious associations of the oases and the Thebaïd, see J.C. Darnell, D. Klotz & C. Manassa, “Gods on the Road: The Pantheon of Thebes at Qasr el-Ghueita” (forthcoming), and the references given there. 149  On the stela Louvre C 112 (see Fr. von Känel, Les prêtres-ouâb de Sekhmet et les conjurateurs de Serket [BEPHE, Section des sciences religieuses 87; Paris, 1984], 107– 111, with references), the apparently Thinite official Hor bore priestly titles linking him with the Sixth through Thirteenth Upper Egyptian Nomes, while also claiming the posts of “royal director of Upper Egypt (ḫ rp nsw.t n Šmʿ)” “royal account scribe (sš-nsw.t ḥ sb) of the Southern Oasis and Hibis.” 150  See B. Bryan, in Thutmose III, 89–93. An excellent example is Qenamun’s title “eyes of the king as far as the roads of the bow troops” (ἰr.ty-nsw.t r w¡.wt pḏ.wt)— N. de Garis Davies, The Tomb of Ken-Amun at Thebes 1 (New York, 1930), pl. 57B, ll. 5–6. 151   A. Schulman, “The Royal Butler Ramessesemperre,” JARCE 13 (1976), 117–120; Id., in: B. Rothenberg, et al., The Egyptian Mining Temple at Timna (Researches in the Arabah 1959–1984; London, 1988), 143–145; Id., “The Royal Butler Ramessessami’on: an Addendum,” CdE 65 (1990), 12–20; B. Bryan, in: Thutmose III, 95–96; C. Riggs & J. Baines, “Ethnicity,” in UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, E. Frood, J. Dieleman



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The overseers of Medjoy and their patrolmen appear to some extent to have consolidated many of the earlier paramilitary and military titles and functions. The Medjoy are also attested with economic duties, best known from the workmen’s village at Deir el-Medina,152 and they probably also exercised similar functions in the deserts of Egypt. A consolidation of earlier titles and duties probably explains the decrease in the titles—and rock inscriptions of those bearing the titles—associated with the deserts during the New Kingdom; such a focus on the Medjoy as agents of administrative and economic control, as well as state sponsored protection of caravans, may explain why Dedi, under Thutmosis III and Amenhotep II,153 bears the somewhat archaizing titles “Overseer of the Deserts on the West of Thebes” (ἰmy-r ḫ ¡s.wt ḥ r ἰmnt.t nἰw.t) and “Royal Messenger in All Foreign Lands on account of his deep-seated excellence” (wpwty-nsw.t ḥ r ḫ ¡s.wt nb.t n-ʿ¡.t-n mnḫ =f ḥ ry-ἰb), alongside the newer and perhaps summarizing title of “Chief of the Medjoy” (ḥ ry Mḏ¡y.w). The physical manifestations of pharaonic presence in the deserts change as well. Small towers are attested both archaeologically and pictorially, of a sort attested already for the Early Dynastic Period, serving as bases for the supply of desert policemen.154 The groups of huts that appear to have represented the stopping places of perambulating Middle Kingdom patrols are not so much in evidence, perhaps replaced to some extent by mounted patrols. Both depictions155

& W. Wendrich, eds. (Los Angeles, 2012), 6 (http://digital2.library.ucla.edu/viewItem .do?ark=21198/zz002bpmfm). 152  See conveniently K. Liska, “ ‘Medjay’ (no. 188) in the Onomasticon of Amenemope,” in: Millions of Jubilees, Studies in Honor of David P. Silverman, Z. Hawass & J.H. Wegner, eds. (Cairo, 2010), 315–331. 153   Urk. IV 995, 10, 15, and 15; see also B. Bryan, in: Thutmose III, 106–107; R.J. Demarée, “A Letter of Reproach,” in: Gold of Praise. Studies in Ancient Egypt in Honor of Edward F. Wente, E. Teeter & J.A. Larson, eds. (SAOC 58; Chicago, 1999), 78 n. b. 154   J.C. Darnell, in: Egypt and Nubia, 139–141, and the references cited there. These structures were the local desert representatives of the weapons storehouses attested already during the Old Kingdom (E. Eichler, Untersuchungen zum Expeditionswesen, 207–209). 155  Ibid., 135–138 and 143–144; J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 139; compare also B.B. Piotrovsky, Vadi Allaki—put’ k zolotym rudnikam Nubii: drevneegipetskie naskal’nye nadpisi: rezul’taty rabot arkheologicheskoĭ ėkspeditsii AN SSSR v Egipetskoĭ arabskoĭ respublike 1961–1962, 1962–1963 gg (Moscow, 1983), 49 (no. 53), and 51 (no. 73). Horse patrols could well cover more than twice the distance of dismounted patrols—Alexander the Great and the small force that accompanied him to Siwa Oasis traveled at a rate of approximately 22.5 miles per day (D.W. Engels,

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and titles156 associated with equestrian matters indicate the presence of riders at desert sites during the New Kingdom. At least some of these horsemen may have been mounted patrolmen,157 and evidence from the Wadi el-Hôl is consistent with that site having functioned as a relay point for mounts on an established courier route. The title “chief of the stable ‘Its-Fetchings-are-Frequent’ ” (palaeographically of late Nineteenth Dynasty date)158 may preserve the name of a stable at some point along the Farshût Road—the route itself known as the “Road of Horses” by the Twenty-First Dynasty159—if not in or overlooking the Wadi el-Hôl itself. Who might have made use of such a service is unclear, although the only letter that might well be said to have traveled the Farshût Road is P. Berlin 10463,160 from the mayor of Thebes under Amenhotep II to a farmer at Hou, was indeed the missive of a high official. Cisterns and Caravansaries Large, stratified debris mounds, the collected and compacted detritus of associated New Kingdom caravansaries, appear in the Theban

Alexander the Great and the Logistics of the Macedonian Army [Berkeley, 1978], 153; in Assyria, Alexander’s cavalry covered about 46 miles per day). 156  Such as the groom Heqanakht on the Edfu to Marsa Alam road—Z. Žaba, Rock Inscriptions of Lower Nubia, 230–231 and fig. 394 (no. A13). 157   For references to mounted Medjoy patrolman, and a preliminary notice of a possible outpost of such a unit in the desert northwest of ancient Thebes, see J.C. Darnell, in Egypt and Nubia, 143–144. 158   J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 139. For the name of the stable, compare the name of the “census house” in Z. Žaba, Rock Inscriptions of Lower Nubia, 151. 159   At least two of three fragmentary stelae erected along the Farshût Road during the pontificate of Menkheperre appear to have had parallel texts (J.C. Darnell, in: Egypt and Nubia, 132–5) referring to the route as the “Road of Horses” (w¡.t ssm.wt)— a name similar to the “the way of cattle” (t3 mi.t n ἰḥ .w) in inscriptions of Taharqa from Bab Kalabsha (F. Hintze, “Eine neue Inschrift vom 19. Jahre König Taharqas,” MIO 7 [1959/60], 330–333; note also road names in H.G. Fischer, CRIPEL 13 [1991], 59–64). Menkheperre’s intention to reassert authority over the desert is clear from his construction of forts at the Nile Valley termini of desert routes (cf. K.A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 BC), 2nd rev. ed. [Warminster 1986], 249 and 269–270), and his Farshût Road stelae, on a route accessing the Girga Road to Kharga Oasis, may relate to the return of exiles from the oases as related on his Stela of the Exiles (J. von Beckerath, “Die ‘Stela der Verbannten’ im Museum des Louvre,” RdÉ 20 [1968], 7–36). 160  See the remarks of R. Caminos, “Papyrus Berlin 10463,” JEA 49 (1963), 32 and 36.



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Western Desert, and the amount of traffic on the desert roads increases to such an extent that depots and cisterns were not simply for the support of work crews and military expeditions, but additional dutycollecting extensions of the regular Nilotic and oasian administrations and economies. Maintenance of water resources, an important consideration for earlier expeditions—witness the water depots at Abu Ziyar on the Girga Road, and at Abu Ballas southwest of Dakhla161—leads to a more expanded program of well and cistern excavation along a number of roads, both major highways and routes to quarries.162 Although the digging of wells in the Wadi Hammamat is attested for the Middle Kingdom,163 the New Kingdom sees an expansion of the program in a series of fortified watering posts on the Ways of Horus across northern Sinai. A deep cistern at the midpoint of the Girga road reveals the application of the techniques and “architecture” of tomb shaft excavation to hydraulic installations, and a shift of such outposts from being solely recipients of governmental support to participating elements in a desert economy. On the Girga Road, the Middle Kingdom outpost at Abu Ziyar is abandoned for another site, Tundaba, almost exactly at the mid point between the Nile in the area of Girga, and the northeastern wells of Kharga Oasis. Instead of providing evidence of a major expenditure by the central government, Tundaba appears rather to have been an officially controlled cistern, the ceramic remains revealing not a push out from the Nile, but rather an interaction at the site of caravans originating almost equally in the Nile Valley and the oases.164 The Girga Road 161  See above, and the numerous pertinent remarks in F. Förster, Der Abu Ballas-Weg; see also A. Gasse, “L’approvisionnement en eau dans les mines et carriers (aspects techniques et institutionnels),” in: Les problèmes institutionnels de l’eau en Égypte ancienne et dans l’antiquité méditerranéenne, B. Menu, ed. (BdE 110; Cairo, 1994), 169–176 (but note that her apparent denial of the importance of pot dumps in pharaonic desert activities is entirely incorrect). 162   For the Wadi Mia inscription of Sety I, referring to his well-digging activities, see S. Schott, Kanais, passim. For Sety I and Ramesses II in the Wadi Allaqi, see K.A. Kitchen, Ramesside Inscriptions. Historical and Biographical 2 (Oxford, 1979), 252–260. Merneptah—K.A. Kitchen, Ramesside Inscriptions. Historical and Biographical 4 (Oxford, 1982), 18, ll. 5–8—claims to have reopened neglected wells. 163   J. Couyat & P. Montet, Ouadi Hammamat, 83 and pl. 31 (ll. 13–14). 164  See http://www.yale.edu/egyptology/ae_tundaba.htm and the links there; also J.C. Darnell, in: Desert Road Archaeology, H. Riemer and F. Förster, eds. In construction, the closest parallel is L. Gabolde, H.I. Amer & P. Ballet, “Une exploration de la ‘Vallée du Puits’: la tombe inachevée No 41,” BIFAO 91 (1991), 179–186.

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sites provide evidence for a shift from an expeditionary mentality under the Middle Kingdom rulers, to a more intra-national administrative and economic approach to the desert hinterlands. Desert roads are less tracks for extending state control than highways of ultimately internal traffic, with their own arteries into the regions beyond. An early Eighteenth Dynasty ostracon from the Tundaba outpost (East Feature, south room)165 records the calculation, in hnw-measurements, of š¡(y).t-duty.166 The ostracon appears to represent the calculation of an assessment for using the facilities of the site, and almost certainly records a well tax levied on a caravan stopping at Tundaba; the rough nature of the calculation is consistent with the subsequent recording of the assessment in a more formal ledger. A well tax is already in evidence in Old Kingdom documents,167 and is probably the source of the revenue for payments for which the rwḏwcontrollers of wells were responsible, according to the Turin Taxation Papyrus.168 During the New Kingdom, rwḏw-officials were both agricultural agents and members of military expeditions,169 in those latter roles perhaps to some extent commissariat officers. The Tundaba ostracon may have been written by or for a rwḏw-agent attached to the well outpost, a calculation of the š¡y.t his command owed to some administrative entity.

165   Photograph at http://www.yale.edu/egyptology/ae_tundaba_remains.htm; photograph and facsimile in J.C. Darnell, in: Desert Road Archaeology, Riemer and Förster, eds. 166   For which see the remarks of D. Warburton, State and Economy in Ancient Egypt: Fiscal Vocabulary of the New Kingdom (Freiburg, 1997), 278–281; P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, Vol. 2. 167  R.Weill, Les Décrets royaux de l’Ancien Empire égyptien (Paris, 1912), pl. 3; H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (ÄA 14; Wiesbaden, 1967), 73, note 30, fig. 5; W. Helck, “Abgaben und Steuern,” LÄ I (Wiesbaden, 1975), col. 4; E. Otto, “Brunnen,” LÄ I (Wiesbaden, 1975), col. 872. 168  In lines 8, x+1–6, the rwḏw-controllers in charge of wells appear to be responsible for delivering a payment, perhaps the š¡y.t which appears in lines 3, 4; 3, 19; 4, 20; 4/5, 25; 6, x+4; and 7, 1. The wells are associated with the immediately following line 8, x+7, which summarized the ḥ tr-tax of the “southern and northern oases” (contra W. Helck, Materialien zur Wirtschaftsgeschichte des Neuen Reiches [Wiesbaden, 1961–1969], 250). See also D. Warburton, State and Economy, 159–164. 169  D.B. Redford, The Wars in Syria and Palestine of Thutmose III (Leiden, 2003), 42 n. 252; J. Winand, “Les Décrets oraculaires pris en l’honneur d’Henouttaouy et de Maâtkarê (Xe et VIIe pylônes),” Cahiers de Karnak 11 (2003), 661 n. j; J.-M. Kruchten, “L’évolution de la gestion dominiale sous le nouvel empire Égyptien,” in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East, E. Lipiński, ed. (Leuven, 1979), 517–522.



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Oversight of Grain Shipments In the Wadi el-Hôl on the Farshût Road, across which considerable shipments of grain and other foodstuffs passed during the New Kingdom—much of the bounty probably originating in the fields of Amun at Hou and destined for the storehouses of the Estate of Amun at Thebes170—officials in charge of accounting and weighing made at least occasional visits. The botanical materials surviving in the extensive deposits of pottery, animal dung, and plant remains at three points along the Farshût Road are predominantly undigested hulled 6-row barley (hordeum vulgare ssp. vulgare) and emmer wheat (triticum turgidum ssp. dicoccon), with far lesser amounts of hard wheat (triticum turgidum ssp. durum).171 Most of the grain at the three sites reveals no sign of digestion by animals, suggesting that the grains were on the whole intended for human consumption.172 The quantity of grain present in all of the layers of the stratified deposits, suggests that some form of customs center may have existed at Qarn el-Gir (the junction of the Theban route and the oasis roads) and at Gebel Roma/the Wadi el-Hôl. The inscriptions of a grain accounting scribe (sš ḥ sb ἰt) and an unnamed “chief attendant of the scales of Amun” (ἰry mḫ ¡.t ḥ ry n pr-ʾImn) occur in the wadi proper, and an inscription of the second prophet of Amun of Karnak, Roma-Roy (later to become high priest of Amun of Karnak under Ramesses II) at the Gebel Roma deposit above the Wadi el-Hôl supports the idea of official oversight of goods ­passing 170   For the fields at Hou see R.A. Caminos, The Chronicle of Prince Osorkon (AnOr 37; Rome, 1958), 126–127 and 132–133; W. Helck, “Die Opferstiftung des Sn-mwt,” ZÄS 85 (1960), 32; S. Sauneron, Villes et légendes d’Égypte (Cairo, 1974), 29–31; S.P. Vleeming, The Gooseherds of Hou (Pap. Hou) (Leuven 1991), 8, 21, and 37; compare also the priestly duties at Thebes and Hou in F. Haikal, Two Hieratic Funerary Papyri of Nesmin (Bib.Aeg. 14: Brussels, 1970), 1 and 13–16. An inscription in the Wadi el-Hôl refers to the “divine offerings of Amun”—J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, p. 154. 171  L. Sikking & R.J.T. Cappers, “Eeten in de woestijn: voedsel voor mens en dier op doortrocht in de Westelijke woestijn van Egypte,” Paleo-Aktueel 13 (2002), 100–106; R.J.T. Cappers, L. Sikking, J.C. Darnell & and D. Darnell, “Food Supply Along the Theban Desert Roads (Egypt): the Gebel Romaʿ, Wadi el-Hôl, and Gebel Qarn elGir Caravansary Deposits,” in: Fields of Change: Progress in African Archaeobotany, R. Cappers, ed. (Groningen Archaeological Studies 5; Groningen, 2007), 127–138; J.C. Darnell, in: The Egyptian World, 43–46. 172   The presence of considerable numbers of rachis nodes indicates that much of the grain shipped along the Farshût Road and through the Wadi el-Hôl had undergone an initial threshing, but not the final separation of the grains.

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along a desert road by an official of an institution to which at least some of that material is destined (  fig. 7–8).173 In this administrative structure, grain accounting scribes may have loaded and perhaps even accompanied the shipments themselves—the caravans transporting the grain—much as they are associated with riverine grain shipments; also similar to the oversight of grain shipments in the Late Ramesside Period, a high official of the estate of Amun, even the high priest himself, might have at least titular oversight of the physical means of transport, whether boat or donkey caravan.174 Probably in his position of “second prophet of Amun,” the official Puyemre during the reign of Thutmosis III could receive products from both the southern and northern oases (Kharga/Dakhla and Bahariya) as royal donation for the temple of Amun,175 a connection of the oasis ring from Bahariya through Kharga to the temple of Amun at Karnak that still functioned during the Ptolemaic Period. Desert Administration in New Kingdom Nubia Nubia during the New Kingdom develops into a southern model of Egypt, with an administration mirroring that of the senior, northern partner—the “King’s Son of Kush” with two ἰdnw-lieutenants in the south corresponding to Pharaoh and his twin viziers in the north.176 The transformation of the commander of Buhen into the Viceroy of Kush, and the development of the chief Egyptian governmental officer in Nubia from regional military governor to colonial administrator, occurred during the reign of Thutmosis I.177 The territory under the viceroy’s control stretched from Karoy in the south—near Kurgus between the Fourth and Fifth Cataracts—to the area of Elkab and the

  J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 92, 155, and pp. 159–160.   For the accounting scribes and vessels of the divine offerings of Amun, see J.C. Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, 92 and n. 17 ( fig. 7); for the high officials in charge of individual grain transport boats, see J.J. Janssen, Grain transport in the Ramesside Period: Papyrus Baldwin (BM EA 10061) and Papyrus Amiens (HPBM 8; London, 2004), 34–36 and 66–67. 175  See L. Giddy, Egyptian Oases, 70; for the Ptolemaic evidence, see J.C. Darnell, D. Klotz & C. Manassa, “Gods on the Road: The Pantheon of Thebes at Qasr elGhueita.” 176  Much of this section is based on M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer. 177  G.A. Reisner, “The Viceroys of Ethiopia (Continued)”, JEA 6 (1920), 11ff. 173 174



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Eastern Desert gold mines in the Wadi Barramiya to the north.178 During the reign of Tutankhamun, a particular interest in administration and control of the Nubian deserts becomes apparent, coinciding with the definitive transformation of the earlier office of “Deputy of the Viceroy” (ἰdnw ny s¡-nsw.t)179 into the dual offices of the overseers of Upper and Lower Nubia, respectively the “Deputy of Kush” (ἰdnw ny K¡š) and the “Deputy of Wawat” (ἰdnw ny W¡w¡.t)(  fig. 6).180 Following successful campaigns by the viceroys of Amenhotep III and Akhenaton against local tribes threatening the gold mining region of the Wadi Allaqi, and what was probably a campaign of Tutankhamun himself against a group to the west (perhaps Irem),181 Tutankhamun’s Nubian administration appears to have exercised an oversight of desert matters even more nuanced than what we can see for Egypt itself.

178   For the extent of viceregal administration, see M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer. In N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Huy, Viceroy of Nubia in the Reign of Tutankhamun (No. 40) (Theban Tomb Series 4; London, 1926), pl. 6., note the statement of the chief of the treasury as he hands the seal of his office to the newly invested Viceroy Huy: “I hereby delegate to you (power) from Hierakonpolis to Napata.” 179   Four inscriptions from the Wadi Dunqash, an offshoot of the Wadi Bezeh, name such a viceregal deputy (R.D. Rothe, W.K. Miller & G. Rapp, Pharaonic Inscriptions from the Southern Eastern Desert of Egypt [Winona Lake, 2008], 288, 290–292; M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer), possibly an official of Thutmosis III. 180  Until recently, the first known attestation for the title “Deputy of Wawat” was that appearing on the stela of Tutankhamun from Kurkur Oasis, identified with a man named Penniut, formerly known from the durbar scenes in the tomb Huy as Commander of the fortress of Faras (traditional seat of viceregal authority)—J.C. Darnell, “A Stela of the Reign of Tutankhamun from the Region of Kurkur Oasis”, SAK 31 (2003), 73–91 (esp. 78–79); N. Davies and A.H. Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy (London, 1926), 16; G.A. Reisner, JEA 6 (1920), 84–85. David Klotz (in press) demonstrates that the statue of a man (from Semna, probably with the name Thutmose) whose cryptographically written title designates him as ἰdnw ny W¡w¡.t, probably during the reign of Amenhotep IV, and certainly before the proscription of Amun, is the earliest surviving appearance of the title, a foreshadowing of Tutankhamun’s apparent codification of the fully developed Nubian administrative system (the statue is MFA 24.743, G.A. Reisner, D. Dunham, and J.M.A. Janssen, Semna Kumma, 33–43; the title is at the top of p. 37 [typically, Drioton’s imaginative and acrophonically derived transliteration and translation are almost entirely inaccurate; I thank Dr. Klotz for discussing this statue with me). 181   For the campaign of Merymose under Amenhotep III, see BM 138, ll. 3–4 = I.E.S. Edwards, Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, etc. 8 (London, 1939), pl. 20; Urk. IV 1659 (no. 564), l. 13; cf. D. O’Connor, ”Amenhotep III and Nubia”, in: Amenhotep III, Perspectives on his Reign, D. O’Connor & E. Cline, eds. (Ann Arbor, 1998), 268–269. For the campaign of Djehutymose see H.S. Smith, The Fortress of Buhen: the Inscriptions. (London, 1976), 124–5 and pl. XXIX, no. 1595; for the campaign of Tutankhamun see J.C. Darnell & C.M. Manassa, Tutankhamun’s Armies, 119–125.

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Figure 6.  The Tutankhamun Stela from Kurkur Oasis, containing the earliest surviving reference to the Deputy of Wawat, and evidence for the functioning of the “Western Wall of Pharaoh.” (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University)



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Tutankhamun may also have been the architect of the “Western Wall of Pharaoh,” probably a line of outposts and patrol routes along the Sinn el-Kaddab Plateau, extending at least as far as Kurkur Oasis in the north.182 No formal towers or rectilinear enclosures survive on the Sinn el-Kaddab, but dry stone walls and small structures, and probably brush and thorn zeribas, along with the mobile patrols, appear to have constituted the “wall.”183 The patrol at Kurkur did not report to nearby Aswan, but rather to the administration of the Deputy of Wawat. The apparent leader of the patrol appears textually merely as a Medjoy, without indication of being an overseer, but was required on occasion to receive a seal of office from the Deputy of Wawat. The fact of a patrolman not high in the chain of paramilitary command reporting around his immediate predecessors directly to a high official suggests the presence of a system of dual oversight on the border, in which reports making their way up from local patrolman through the offices and potential embellishments and alterations of mid-level officials could be compared to reports passing directly from an observer on the border into the hands of a high administrator. At least from the reign of Tutankhamun, certain Nubian patrolmen appear to have paralleled in such a function the later Roman beneficiarius consularis.184 The Kurkur patrolman claims to have carried out a daily patrol of four iteru, or roughly 42 kilometers, too fast to be accompanying a caravan, but consistent with a fast moving, perambulating patrol, perhaps even mounted for part of the effort. While the duties of the viceroy himself ranged from supervision of military campaigning to oversight of infrastructure, the economic responsibilities of the office provide the greatest insight into ­Egyptian

182   For the Sinn el-Kaddab patrols and related matters see J.C. Darnell, SAK 31 (2003), 73–91. 183  Compare the dry stone hilltop enclosure in J. Hester & P.M. Hobler, Prehistoric Settlement Patterns in the Libyan Desert (University of Utah Anthropological Papers 92 Nubian Series 4; Salt Lake City, 1969), pp. 60–62. 184   The beneficiarii consularis were military veterans who conducted surveillance and oversaw the patrol and economic functions of border outposts, often with particular reference to military roads, and reported directly to the cognizant local governors—N.J.E. Austin & N.B. Rankov, Exploratio, Military and Political Intelligence in the Roman World from the Second Punic War to the Battle of Adrianople (London and New York, 1995), 195–204; see also C.J. Fuhrmann, Policing the Roman Empire: Soldiers, Administration, and Public Order (Oxford, 2012), 249–252 et passim.

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administrative policies in the Nubian deserts at this time.185 The chief economic responsibility that fell to direct viceregal oversight was the supervision of tribute preparation for presentation to the king at his durbar, a ceremony that served as a venue for bestowing honors, inducting new honorees into office, and in a living tableau providing a guide to the equations and interactions of Egyptian and Nubian ranks and titles.186 A significant portion of Nubia’s tribute was gold, over the mining of which the viceroy had full control. Rock inscriptions from the gold-mining region of the Wadi Barramiya, which lay within viceregal jurisdiction, reveal that Nubians were active in the region, most notably the well-known Chief of Miam, Heqanefer,187 whose activities under Tutankhamun were likely related to the intensified exploitation of the gold mines in this region by Merymose, the viceroy under Amenhotep III. Present at the durbar of Tutankhamun, Heqanefer may have been acting in a similar capacity for Amenhotep III.188 Not coincidentally, Merymose was the first Viceroy to assume the additional title “Overseer of the Gold Lands of Amun” (ἰmy-r ḫ ¡s.wt nbw ʾImn).189

185   The autobiography of the Nineteenth Dynasty Viceroy Setau (K.A. Kitchen, Ramesside Inscriptions. Historical and Biographical 3 [Oxford, 1980], 91–94) best describes viceregal duties. 186   J.C. Darnell and C. Manassa, Tutankhamun’s Armies, 125–131. 187   The rock inscriptions of Heqanefer always occur near inscriptions belonging either to Merymose himself, or to members of his support personnel. For the Heqanefer graffiti in the Wadi Barramiya see Z. Žaba, Rock Inscriptions of Lower Nubia, 227–228 (A5 and A6), to which add two additional rock inscriptions of Heqanefer in the nearby Wadi Bezeh (not recognized in the original publication), for photographs of which see R.D. Rothe, W.K. Miller & G. Rapp, Pharaonic Inscriptions, 252 (BZ04) and 264 (BZ17); M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer; M.W. Brown and J.C. Darnell, “Review of Pharaonic Inscriptions from the Southern Eastern Desert of Egypt”, JNES (forthcoming). 188   Although the ceremony is not yet attested for Amenhotep III, an increased exploitation of the Wadi Barramiya gold mines during his reign is suggestive of preparations for a durbar, attested already for Amenhotep II and Akhenaton—see R.A. Caminos, The Shrines and Rock Inscriptions of Ibrim. (London, 1968), 67f, pl. 32; N. Davies, The Rock Tombs of El Amarna 2 (London, 1903–1908), pl. 37, 40; Id., The Rock Tombs of El Amarna 3 (London, 1903–1908), pl. 13; compare also the earlier shrine attributed to the Viceroy Nehy (reign of Thutmose III). Rock inscriptions place the earliest New Kingdom exploitation of the Wadi Barramiya gold mines in the reign of Thutmosis III—see R.D. Rothe, W.K. Miller & G. Rapp, Pharaonic Inscriptions, 297– 298 (DN14), 328 (DN 44). The association between a large ceremony and this gold region, in conjunction with the presence of the Nubian chief Heqanefer, suggests that the yields of these Egyptian mines were earmarked for Nubian tribute: M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer; M.W. Brown and J.C. Darnell, JNES (forthcoming). 189  G.A. Reisner, JEA 6 (1920), 77–79; E-S. Mahfouz, “Les Directeurs des Déserts Aurifères d’Amon”, RdÉ 56 (2005), 55–78; M.W. Brown, Keeping Enemies Closer.



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The presence of Nubian officials in the gold mining regions east of Edfu, within traditional Egyptian borders, is consistent with an emphasis on arteries rather than broad territories in desert administration. At the end of the Ramesside Period, the raids of desert tribesmen and the hoarding economy of the terminal New Kingdom appear to have conspired to limit activity in the Egyptian deserts. The reign of the Twenty-First Dynasty pontiff Menkheperre saw another attempt by a Nilotic administration—echoing the activities of Monthuhotep II and his immediate predecessors—to eliminate criminal elements in the oases (this time by pardon). Menkheperre sought to open up the deserts again, setting up stelae on the track (the Farshût Road) connecting Thebes with the Girga Road, and constructing fortresses at the Nilotic termini of several desert roads.190

190  See provisionally the extremely brief overviews of the evidence in J.C. Darnell, in: The Egyptian World, 45–46; Id., in: Egypt and Nubia, 132–136. For the Banishment Stela and the fortresses, see also the references in J. Lull, Los sumos sacerdotes de Amón tebanos de la wḥ m mswt y dinastía XXI (ca. 1083–945 a.C.) (BAR International Series 1469; Oxford, 2006), 227–240. For the Libyan raids of the Late Ramesside Period, see B.J.J. Haring, “Libyans in the Late Twentieth Dynasty,” in: Village Voices, R.J. Demarée A. Egberts, eds. (Leiden, 1992), 71–80. Much of the information in this chapter draws on the work of Deborah Darnell and John Coleman Darnell on the Theban Desert Road Survey and Yale Toshka Desert Survey.

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Figure 7.  Wadi el-Hol Inscription n° 1. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University, published in Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, p. 92 and pl. 71b)

Figure 8.  Wadi el-Hol Inscription n° 40. (Theban Desert Road Survey, Yale University, published in Darnell, et al., Theban Desert Road Survey I, p. 155 and pl. 120b)

THE RamessidE STATE Pierre Grandet In contrast to our hopelessly rudimentary knowledge of other aspects of Egyptian civilization, we are able to form a rather satisfactory idea of the Egyptian State of the New Kingdom. In addition to a wealth of individual sources, this era produced actual treatises on this subject, that provide us with coherent explanations of its structures: the closing section of the text entitled The King as a Sun Priest, The Duties of the Vizier, The Instructions to the Vizier, The Decree of Horemheb, the Onomasticon of Amenemope, and others.1 The picture we gain from these sources is, as we said, satisfactory. We cannot claim that it is as complete or as precise as we should like. The reason is, on the one hand, the naturally ambiguous and incomplete nature of the past’s remains, and on the other hand the fact that all the sources produced by the Egyptian civilization, whether representational or textual, present in a more or less unmistakable manner the point of view of the political and administrative power. We shall therefore keep in mind that even when they originate in daily practice, 1   We shall provide the references to these compositions throughout the text. There exist several monographs relative to the origins of the Egyptian State and the forms it adopted in the Ancient and Middle Kingdoms (e.g., J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire [Ægyptiaca Leodiensia 4; Liège, 1997], 95–151; R. Gundlach, Der Pharao und sein Staat, Die Grundlegung der ägyptischen Königsideologie im 4. und 3. Jahrtausend [Darmstadt, 1998]; T. Wilkinson, Early Dynastic Egypt [London-New York, 1999]; St. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC [Golden House Publications, Egyptology 1; London, 2004]; R.J. Wenke, The Ancient Egyptian State. The Origins of Egyptian Culture (c. 8000–2000 BC)[Case Studies in Early Societies, 8; Cambridge, 2009]). Relatively few recent general studies appear to exist concerning the New Kingdom State, with the exception of very general studies of the type represented by those of E.F. Morris, “The Pharaoh and Pharaonic Office”, in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt, A.B. Lloyd, ed., (Chichester, 2010), 201–217, and B. Haring, “Administration of the Law: Pharaonic”, in: ibid., 218–236. The best such study is still that of W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reiches (PdÄ 3; Leidenn, Cologne, 1958), revised and corrected by D. O’Connor, in B.G. Trigger, B.J. Kemp, D. O’Connor, A.B. Lloyd, Ancient Egypt. A Social History (Cambridge: 1983), 204–218. See also D. Valbelle, L’Égypte pharaonique, in G. Husson and D. Valbelle, L’État et les Institutions en Égypte, des premiers pharons aux empereurs romains (Paris, 1992), 11–177, and Id., Histoire de l’État pharaonique (Paris, 1998).

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they provide a subjective, largely idealized, and even purely symbolic image of reality. Only a thorough inventory of the pertinent archaeological data and their comparison with these sources would make it possible to correct the distortions created by this angle of vision, but this inventory has yet to be done.2 We shall try to present here, successively, the theoretical and practical aspects of the government of Egypt in the second half of the New Kingdom; that is, its intellectual principles and their implementation. In so doing, we shall allow the Egyptian sources themselves and the intellectual model that they represent to speak for themselves rather than providing secondary-source interpretations. The relative paucity of these sources for the relevant period will often force us to refer to chronologically earlier sources. We think that this fact, if correctly evaluated, does not constitute an essential obstacle to the establishment of the required evidence, insofar as it is obvious that—as if the better to deny the occurrence of the Amarna interlude—the Ramessid era took over the essence of the intellectual ideas and institutional practices of the Eighteenth Dynasty predating the reign of Akhenaten, and even, through them, those of the Middle Kingdom, as preserved by the Theban kingdom of the Second Intermediate Period.3 *  *  * The very subject of this study requires us, as a necessary preliminary, to formulate a minimal definition of the State. After considerable hesitation, due to the intellectual challenge in defining the concept, we shall stick with the following formula, in which we combine empirical 2  In this respect, cf. the important contribution made by B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, Anatomy of a Civilization (London, New York, 20062), in particular 302–335. 3   Basic evidence includes the Juridical Stela of Karnak, Cairo JE 52453, ed. P. Lacau, “Une stèle juridique de Karnak” (CASAE 13; Cairo, 1949); W. Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und Neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (KÄT 6,1; Wiesbaden, 20023), 65–69, n° 98, and the P. Berlin 10470, ed. P.C. Smither, “The Report concerning the Slave-Girl Senbet”, JEA 34 (1948), 31–34, pl. VII–VIII, Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 50–54, n° 69. These items confirm the administrative picture that emerges, for the end of the Middle Kingdom, from the evidence provided by the “Kahun” papyri (F.Ll. Griffith, The Petrie Papyri, Hieratic Papyrus from Kahun and Gurob [Londres, 1897–1898], pl. 9–37; U. Luft, Das Archiv von Illahun, Briefe 1 [HPB 1; Berlin 1992; Id., Urkunden zur Chronologie der späten 12. Dynastie, Briefe aus Illahun [DÖAWW 34; Wien, 2006]; M. Collier, St. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Letters [BAR International Series 1083; Oxford, 2002]; The UCL Lahun Papyri: Accounts [BAR International Series 1471, Oxford, 2006]; The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical [BAR International Series 1209, Oxford, 2006]. Cf. B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 211–221.



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observations with the views of theoreticians such as the illustrious Max Weber:4 A State is the institutional authority that, in a given period, claims and holds a monopoly of the political and administrative power over a given territory and population, according to the legitimating modalities set forth in its own laws or its own traditions.

This authority is institutional; that is, it exists in time and is separate from its holder, even if the holder is the most absolute of monarchs. It does not disappear with his death or with the end of his mandate; rather, his successor is seamlessly invested with it, according to the principle Le mort saisit le vif (The estate is vested in the heir the moment the owner dies): The King is dead! Long live the King! It directs the country politically, deciding on both the development and exploitation of its resources and determining, in its relations with other countries, the fittest measures for the protection or promotion of its interests (wars, alliances, etc.). It manages its subjects by means of orders, laws, and regulations, and has resources for encouraging them or compelling them to obey (courts, police). In this connection, it constitutes a moral and juridical authority aimed at bringing about, even in human relations, the reign of a consensual “normalcy” and enforces the laws or traditions that define it. Lastly, it enjoys right of eminent domain over and a monopoly of authority in the territory it administers. Even if it can delegate some of its prerogatives to subordinate authorities, it cannot however legally recognize, over the extent of its territory, the existence of any political or administrative authorities having prerogatives equal to its own. Alluding to the Hyksos king Apopi, while addressing his council on the eve of launching the war 4   “Staat ist diejenige menschliche Gemeinschaft, welche innerhalb eines bestimmten Gebietes—dies: das ‘Gebiet’, gehört zum Merkmal—das Monopol legitimer physischer Gewaltsamkeit für sich (mit Erfolg) beansprucht”/“Today, however, we have to say that a state is a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory. Note that ‘territory’ is one of the characteristics of the state.”/“Par contre il faut concevoir l’État contemporain comme une communauté humaine qui, dans les limites d’un territoire déterminé—la notion de territoire étant une de ses caractéristiques—revendique avec succès pour son propre compte le monopole de la violence physique légitime”, Max Weber, Politik als Beruf (Munich, Leipzig, 1919), 4 (English translation, “Politics as Vocation,” translated and edited by H.H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills, in From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology, New York, Oxford University Press, 1946, pp. 77–128; French translation, Le métier et la vocation d’homme politique, dans Le Savant et le politique [Paris, 1959]).

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to reconquer Egypt, Kamosis declared: “I cannot show signs of respect for someone who shares the country with me”.5 Regardless of the organizing modalities of such an authority, they are of necessity established by a constitution or a fundamental law, presumed to specify both the method of selecting the legitimate holder of power and the scope of his mandate, and to establish constituted bodies whose activity allows the country’s government and management. This law, whether written or simply traditional, also expresses the collective values deemed to constitute the basis for the State institution and to serve as a framework for its exercise. Any State claims to represent the shared interests of the persons it administers and/or its constituents (God, the people, an oligarchy, etc.) and to report to them thereon by its acts, implementing a basic “social contract” according to which the governed give up to it a portion of their freedom and their labor in exchange for its services. A Constitution for New Kingdom Egypt “Since the time of the god, there has been a king.”6 Viewed from a modern standpoint, there is not the slightest doubt that institutionally Ancient Egypt was an absolute monarchy. During the New Kingdom, the concepts pertaining to this model of political organization are expressed, in scattered order, by numerous sources (particularly the elements of the royal titulatures).7 However, they were also the subject of an explicit, consistent, concise but thorough formalization

5   Kamosis Stela I, l. 9 (W. Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 82). This state of mind accounts for the continual refusal by the Theban kings of the Second Intermediate Period to deny to the Hyksos sovereigns the title of n(y)-sw.t bjty, in favor of wr, “native prince” (Tablette Carnarvon I, l. 3 [Helck, ibid., 83]), ḥ q¡ n(y) Ḥ w.t-wʿrt, “sovereign of Avaris” (Kamosis Stele II, l. 20 [Helck, ibid., 94]), or “de facto authority” (sḫ m-jr=f, literally “acting power”), Decree of Coptos of Antef V, Cairo JE 30770 bis, l. 8 (Helck, ibid., 74). 6   Literally, “a king appears,” ḏr rk nṯr, n(y)-sw.t ḥ r ḫ ʿ.yt, Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, l. 63 (KRI II 329,17). 7   Cf. E. Hornung, “Zur geschichtlichen Rolle des Königs in der 18. Dynastie”, MDAIK 15 (1957), 120–133; E. Otto, “Legitimation des Herrschers im pharaonischen Ägypten”, Sæculum 20 (1969), 385–411; N. Grimal, Les termes de la propagande royale égyptienne, de la XIXe dynastie à la conquête d’Alexandre—Études sur la propagande royale égyptienne VI (MAIBL, NS VI; Paris, 1986); M.-A. Bonhême, A. Forgeau, Pharaon, Les secrets du pouvoir (Paris, 1988); J. Assmann, Stein und Zeit (Munich, 19952), Chap. IX–XII, etc.



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in the shape of a text of which the oldest complete known version was engraved under Amenhotep III in the temple of Luxor [Fig. 1].8 Its validity for the Ramesside period is guaranteed by the existence of variants dated from this era.9 Despite its brevity, this text formulates a genuine “constitution” for the Egypt of the New Kingdom; that is, a text that must be taken as the starting point for any analysis pertaining to the concepts of monarchy and State for this period, since it is the only element likely to provide, for the scattered body of sources, a unity and a consistency that cannot be imparted to them, for instance, by mere lists of titles or administrative bodies. This text as such is not an autonomous composition but rather the last two sections of a short theological and political treatise in six parts, authoritatively published in 1970 by J. Assmann under the title Der König als Sonnenpriester. Although it is part of a scene depicting the king adoring the deified sun at sunrise, it does not constitute either the caption for this scene or words put into the mouth of the sovereign, as is normally the case for such accompanying texts. Rather, it is an explanation of the reasons why the sovereign, being aware of and understanding what he owes to the god, must address him his daily morning prayers. The portion of this composition that we shall here discuss is composed of twelve “verses” divided into two groups of six.10 Each of these groups (A and B below) is composed of three distichs dealing, respectively, with the function of the king and his position in the hierarchy of beings and society. The two concepts are associated dialectically (the function flows from the position/the position authorizes the function), and apparently cover the manifestation, in the person of the pharaoh,   Room XVII, east wall, top register; cf. J. Assmann, Der König als Sonnenpriester (ADAIK, ÄgReihe 7; Glückstadt, 1970) and H. Brunner, Die südlichen Räume des Tempels von Luxor (ArchVer 18; Mainz am Rhein, 1979), pl. 65.   9   J. Assmann, op. cit. The author publishes seven variants of the text, and assumes that it is originally a late Middle Kingdom composition. Valid grammatical arguments support this opinion. The currently oldest known fragmentary version, dates from the time of Queen Hatshepsut. The versions that postdate Amenhotep III range in time from the Twentieth to the Twenty-fifth Dynastics (including one version from the time of Ramesses III, at Medinet Habu). There are two additional versions in R.A. Parker, J. Leclant, and J.-C. Goyon, The Edifice of Taharqa by the Sacred Lake of Karnak [BEStud VIII; Providence-Londin, 1979), pl. 18 B and 38–40. 10   We are using the word “verses” here in a vague sense, without reference of any kind to the various theories on Egyptian metrics. We reject, in particular, J. Assmann’s metrical analysis of the text, as it is based on the theory of G. Fecht and ignores inter alia obvious parallelisms.   8

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Figure 1. Amenhotep III adores the rising sun.

of the two aspects of power that are combined, in the New Kingdom, in the figure of Amun-Re: Amun, the all-powerful god who governs on earth (via oracles), and Re, the sun, which reigns in the sky, but does not govern and which recreates the Universe each morning by the effect of its mere appearance.11 Obviously, then, it is not by chance that the first part of the text uses the name of Amenhotep III which contains the name Amun, Jmn-ḥ tp(=w) Ḥ q¡-W¡s.t, and associates it with the earth (t¡), while the second part uses the name of the king that contains that of Re, Nb-M¡ʿ.t-Rʿ, and associates it with the sky (p.t). A.  Function of the king 1  jw rd~n Rʿ n(y)-sw.t Jmn-ḥ tp(=w) Ḥ q¡-W¡s.t ḥ r tp t¡ n(y) ʿnḫ .w, Re has placed the king Amenhotep Heqawaset in the land of the living, 2  n nḥ ḥ ḥ nʿ ḏ.t, until the end of time and of the Universe, 3  ḥ r wḏʿ rmṯ, ḥ r sḥ tp nṯr.w, so that he may judge humans and appease the gods, 4  ḥ r sẖpr m¡ʿ.t, ḥ r sḥ tm jsf.t, bring about the advent of maat and annihilate isefet, 11   For the structure and the reasons for this association, we refer naturally and in general to J. Assmann, Re und Amun, Die Krise des polytheistischen Weltbilds im Ägypten der 18.–20. Dynastie (OBO, 51; Fribourg-Göttingen, 1983). English-language edition, revised and supplemented by the author: Egyptian Solar Religion in the New Kingdom. Re, Amun and the Crisis of Polytheism (Studies in Egyptology; London-New York, 1995)(translation by A. Alcock). Summary in J. Assmann, Ägypten, Theologie und Frömmigkeit einer frühen Hochkultur (Urban-Taschenbücher, Bd. 366; Stuttgart, Berlin, Cologne, Mainz, 1984).



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5  jw=f d=f ḥ tp.wt n nṯr.w, while he makes offerings to the gods 6  pr.t-ḫ rw n ¡ḫ .w, And funeral offerings to the deceased B.  Position of the King in the Hierarchy of Beings and Society 1  jw rn n(y) n(y)-sw.t Nb-M¡ʿ.t-Rʿ m p.t mj Rʿ; The name of King Nebmaatre is in the heavens as Re; 2  jw ʿnḫ =f m ¡w.t-jb mj Rʿ Ḥ r-¡ḫ ty. He lives from exaltation as Re Horakhty. 3  ḥ ʿʿ pʿ.t n m¡¡=sn sw, At the sight of him the “notables” rise, exulting, 4  jr n=f rḫ y.t hnw, and “the people” acclaim him on their knees, 5  m jrw=f n(y) nẖ nw, at his appearance as a child, 6  (m) prt Rʿ m Ḫ p{r}j. (as) when Re appeared as Khepi (morning sun).12 Section A This section very clearly defines the King of Egypt as the personal representative of the god Re, Creator of the World,13 who has entrusted him with managing the entirety of his Creation, as his representative, his “lieutenant” on earth14 “It is you yourself who placed me on the

12  I reject the traditional reading of “Khepri” for this divine name, because it has been clearly established that in the Egyptian terms having a terminal –r in an unstressed syllable, this –r was transmuted into –j (cf. the example of the verb ḫ pr > ϣⲟⲡⲉ). The sequence –rj, in this position, thus represents merely the written form of two chronologically sequential phonemes (ḫ pr > ḫ pj), an invitation to chose the most recent transliteration of the graphy. This was very clearly explained by Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, 3rd ed., § 279, in connection with the verbs swr > swj and d¡r > d¡j. 13   He is “the one chosen by Re,” as expressed by the epithet Setepenre (Stp(w)~n-Rʿ), a well-known component of the coronation name (“given name”) of Ramesses II (Wsr-M¡ʿ.t-Rʿ Stp(w)~n-Rʿ Ousermaâtrê Sétepenrê); cf. J. von Beckerath, Handbuch der ägyptischen Königsnamen (MÄS, 49; Mainz am Rhein, 19992), 154 (T9). 14   Nḥ ḥ and ḏ.t describe the entirety of Creation, conceived as a cyclical spacetime created by the apparent movement of the sun (flow of time) and the changes in the intensity of its light during the day (expansion / contraction of perceived space). Taking into account the respective determinatives of the two terms (symbol of the sun/symbol of the earth), I therefore take the risk of translating r nḥ ḥ ḥ nʿ ḏ.t as, “until the end of time and the limits of the Universe,” with the understanding that while

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throne of Egypt as lieutenant (jdnw) of your Two Lands.”15 Symbolically, this appointment is often said to have been entrusted to the king by means of a written document jmy.t-pr;16 that is, an actual “inventory” of Creation. It should be noted that the text omits any explicit allusion to the traditional order of royal succession (from father to son, by right of primogeniture, as established by the myth of Osiris),17 although the mention of a real king, Amenhotep III, identified by his name and representative of an actual, human dynasty, is an implicit allusion to it. The combined meaning of this silence and this veiled allusion is clear: while the status of heir to the crown qualifies the holder to occupy the royal function, any human being, even if he is an heir to the crown, can only reign over Egypt according to divine will, Dei gratia, by the grace of God: “It is you who established me in the place of my father, as you established Horus in the place of Osiris” (note the alternance of the second- and third-person pronouns).18 The divine choice is generally considered to have been determined by the exceptional qualities of the future king: “[This god] extended his hand to chose His Majesty LPH from among millions (of individuals), ignoring ultimately these terms merely designate two aspects of the same reality, they are not simply interchangeables even in the period under discussion here (contra J. Assmann, Zeit und Ewigkeit im Alten Ägypten [AHAW 1975/1], Heidelberg, 1975). 15   Ntk smn(w) wj ḏs=k ḥ r ns.t T¡-Mry, m jdnw n n¡y=k T¡.wy (Ramesses III to Amun), KRI V 224, 4. In the Egyptian administrative terminology the key term, jdnw, designates the “second” of a military leader or the “substitute” of a civilian official. 16   “The powerful position of Atum (the monarchy) is established in writing in the form of an jmy.t-pr, inscribed on an iron bar pursuant to your father’s order,” Book of the Dead (Hu) 183, 14 (P. London BM 9901 (pHunefer), Tb 183 (line [14]). “For you I want to bind the sut plant with the papyrus (= the two parts of the country), as an jmyt-pr for your fist”, dmḏ=j n=k sw.t n w¡ḏ m jmy.t-pr n ḫ fʿ=k, MH IV, 284 B, 3–4 (words spoken by Thot to the king in a scene of Sema-Taouy). 17  It seems to us that one of the functions of this narrative was to secure patrilineal succession as a basic law by rooting it in myth, rejecting as illegal the agnatic procedure of succession, in which succession passes to the eldest surviving brother of the sovereign or the head of the family, here incarnated by Set. 18   Ntk smn(w) (w)j ḥ r s.t n(y) jt=j, mj j-jr=k n Ḥ r r s.t Wsjr, P. Harris I, 3,9 (ed. P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, 3 vol. [BiEt 109 and 129], Cairo, 1994 and 1999). Words spoken by Ramses III to Amon. Note also this striking formulation: jr m¡ʿ.t, f¡ ʿ¡ n(y) nṯr, d=f sw n mr=f, “Maat (that is, the mission to implement it) is a major mission of the god, and he will delegate it only to the person of his choice,” Instructions of Amenemope, 21,5–6 (H.O. Lange, Das Weisheitsbuch des Amenemope aus dem Papyrus 10, 474 des British Museum [DVSM XI, 2; Copenhague, 1925]; cf. V.P.M. Laisney, L’Enseignement d’Aménémopé [StudPohl.: Series Maior 19; Rome, 2007]). For the legitimating criteria of the king of Egypt’s rule, cf. E. Otto, “Legitimation des Herrschens im pharaonischen Ägypten”, Sæculum 20 (1969), 385–411.



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the hundreds of thousands (of others) who were before him.”19 He is considered to have taken up his position upon his gestation (“It was when I was in the egg that he entrusted the earth to me”),20 or even upon his conception: the Egyptian concept of theogamy makes the father of the sovereign, inhabited by the god at the time of procreating his future successor, the instrument of the divine will, making possible a particularly appropriate association of the concepts of divine selection and filiation through the body.21 Although it did not lead, as in the Eighteenth Dynasty, to major textual or pictorial developments, this concept was obviously still part of the monarchical ideology in the Ramesside era. Thus, Ramesses II, speaking to his courtisans, asserts: “I came out of Re, although you say that it is Menmaatre (Sety I) who raised me,”22 and Ramesses III, speaking to Amun, characterizes Ramesses IV at the same time as “my son,” and “the seed issued from your body.”23 The primacy assigned, during the New Kingdom, to this concept of divine selection is undoubtedly explicable by the vicissitudes of Egyptian history. It was the only concept likely to authorize elevation to the throne of sovereigns not called to that position by birth, such as the founders of dynasties, and to condemn to obscurity sovereigns who were legitimate by reason of their blood line, such as Akhenaten, but whose action appeared to have been contrary to divine intention. While we have very little information about the reality that the fiction of divine choice was designed to conceal, it seems obvious that in the New Kingdom the men crowned in the absence of a legitimate pretender to the throne normally came out of the ranks of the general officers.24 19   ¡w [. . .] ʿ=f (?) stp=f ḥ m=f ʿ. w. [s.] ḫ nty ḥ ḥ .w, mkḥ ¡=f ḥ fnw.t r-ḥ ¡.t=f, Elephantine Stela of Setnakht, 4–5 (KRI V 672, 2–3), ed. St. Joh. Seidlmayer, “Epigraphische Bemerkungen zur Stele des Sethnachte aus Elephantine”, in: Stationen. Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Ägyptens, Rainer Stadelmann gewidmet, H. Guksch & D. Polz, ed. (Mainz am Rhein, 1998), 363–386, pl. 20–21, Beilage 3a; for the passage commented on here, cf. in particular 375 (translation) and 378 (commentary). 20   D~n=f n=j t¡, jw=j m swḥ .t, Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, l. 48 (KRI II 327,13). 21  Summary and bibliography in H. Sternberg el-Hotabi, “Mythen: Der Mythos von der Geburt des Gottkönigs,” in: Weisheitstexte, Mythen und Epen, O. Kaiser, ed. (TUAT, NF 3; Gütersloh, 1990–1997), 991–1005. 22   Pr~n=j m Rʿ, ḫ r jw ḏd=tn : “m Mn-M¡ʿ.t-Rʿ mnʿ(w) wj”, Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, l. 47 (KRI II, 327,11–12). 23   My pr(w) m ḥ ʿ.t=k, P. Harris I, 22,3–5. 24  Strong presumption in the case of Thutmose I and Ay (the expedition led by Thutmose I to the Euphrates at the beginning of his reign presupposes sound military

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We know nothing of the process that led to their designation,25 but it seems evident that it was formalized by an oracular ceremony, while expecting that the reign’s achievements would constitute its retrospective justification.26 The singleness of the king logically implies the singleness of the god that delegated him on earth. Here we shall merely note that the deified sun Re represents the visible manifestation of a single god, of whom all the gods of the Egyptian pantheon were only hypostases, and to whom, for purposes of simplification, Egyptian theology assigned chiefly the biune form Amun-Re from the Twelfth to the Eighteenth Dynasties, and thereafter the triune form Amun-Re-Ptah in the Ramessid period [Fig. 2].27 This grouping is actually a trinity and not a triadic combination of three different divinities. Each of its elements is in fact only one of the complementary aspects of an ineffable, unique, and transcendental divinity that created and governs the world and maintains its continuing existence: the “Universal Lord” (Nb-r-ḏr), “the One who has manifestested itself in millions of forms,”28 whose designation is the word “hidden” (jmn), whose appearance is the Sun (Re), and whose knowledge); certainty in the case of Horemheb, Ramesses I, and Setnakht. As to the case of women, Hatshepsut’s reign obviously represents an usurpation (improper extension of a regency), while that of Tausert seems to originate in an attempt to maintain on the throne, until its extinction because of lack of a male heir, the legitimate royal line of the Nineteenth Dynasty. 25   The examples of Thutmose I and Horemheb attest to a matrimonial union with the preceding line, but we do not know if this was a condition precedent or a way of strengthening a posteriori the position of the king. Ay was probably related by marriage to the royal house of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Ramesses I appears to have been personally chosen by Horemheb to succeed him. The cases of Ay, Ramesses I, and Setnakht, all three of them very elderly at the time of their accession, as is indicated by the shortness of their reigns, suggests a rule of seniority (eldest officer in the highest rank). Lastly, it is possible that certain founders of dynasties were elected to the royal position by their peers (the generals). The Harem conspiracy at the end of the reign of Ramesses III, and the scope of the repression that resulted from it (P. Grandet Ramsès III, Histoire d’un règne [Paris, 1993], 330–341), could be interpreted, for instance, as an attempted revenge by a faction that supported a candidate who had been supplanted by Setnakht at the time of the founding of the Twentieth Dynasty. The examples that we have given probably illustrate, each in its own way, a mixture of these various possibilities, to which we can add a simple de facto seizing of power by the then-current strongest man. 26   This is notably one of the functions of P. Harris I. 27   “All the gods are: Amun, Re, and Ptah, and they have no equal,” Chapter 300 of the Leiden, Hymn to Amun, P. Leiden I, 350, IV, 21 (J. Zandee, De Hymnen aan Amon van Papyrus Leiden I, 350 [Leiden, 1948]). 28  Magical papyrus Harris (P. BM 10042), 4,1, H. O. Lange, Der magische Papyrus Harris (DVSW XIV 2; Copenhagen, 1927); Chr. Leitz, Magical and Medical Papyri of the New Kingdom (HPBM VII; London, 1999), 31–50, pl. 12–25.



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substance is the earth (Ptah),29 but whose real name is unknown, and for whom any attempt at determination would be an approximation.30 As the chosen of God, the king is invested with absolute power. However, he is not a tyrant, exercising an arbitrary power outside of any control. Rather, he is a public officer: an exegete and executor of the divine will.31 The counterpart of (and justification for) the absolute nature of the royal power is an absolute responsibility to society, formulated by two fundamental and overlapping precepts, the second of which represents the purposes, and the first of which the means, of royal action. The broadest precept is sḫ pr m¡ʿ.t, “bring about the advent of maat,” and sḥ tm jsf.t, “annihilate isefet.” The term maat, the understanding of which has been obscured rather than clarified by the innumerable studies devoted to it, includes in our opinion a basically simple concept, deriving very naturally from its etymology: “the ruler” (measuring instrument),32 whence, figuratively, “­regulation,” “norm,” and numerous contextual meanings (“truth,”

  “His name is hidden as Amun, he is Re when seen, his body is Ptah,” P. Leiden I, 350, IV, 21–22. 30   “His appearance is not known. He is more distant than the sky. He is deeper than the Duat. No god knows his exact shape. His image is not revealed by the writings. We have no definite testimony concerning him. He is too mysterious for the unveiling of his prestige. He is greater than what we imagine, more powerful than what we discern. Instant death from fear is the fate of anyone who would pronounce his secret name, unconsciously or otherwise. No god knows how to name him by this name, spirit (b¡) whose name is hidden, such is his mystery.” P. Leiden I, 350, IV, 17–21 (Chapter 200). For the history of this religious synthesis, which proceeds, intellectually, from the need to reconcile the absolute nature of the divine and the plurality of gods, we refer to J. Assmann, Ägypten, Theologie und Frömmigkeit, in particular Chapt. 9; P. Grandet, Hymnes de la religion d’Aton (Paris, 1995), 68–70. All we know of this ineffable god are his external manifestations, as illustrated by the “Pantheistic Bes” or the famous vignettes in the Brooklyn Magical Papyrus. S. Sauneron, Le papyruys magique illustré de Brooklyn [Brooklyn Museum 47.218.156] (WilbMon III; Brooklyn, 1970), frontispiece and figs. 2–3. Note the striking parallel with the description of the “universal form” of Vishnu, as described in Chapter 11 of the Baghavad-Gītā. 31  A new man, like Ramesses III, is very careful to distance himself from suspicion of usurpation: bw ʿšq=j, bw ḥ wrʿ=j ky m s.t=wf, “I have not been a tyrant, nor have I deprived anyone of his position,” P. Harris I, 3,9–10. 32   Considering that this is a nomen instrumenti with m- prefix, according to the scheme m- + root +.t of the feminine, expressing the idea of “instrument used to perform the action expressed by the root”; ex. mḏ¡.t, “balance”, literally “the instrument that is used to measure (weight),” from ḏ¡j, “to measure.” In this case, maat would be “the object that is used to measure (size),” from ʿ¡j, “to grow larger.” A secondary etymology holds that it is a “base,” literally, “the object that is used to make things larger,” whence, for example, its use, in the iconographic repertory, to represent the base of the temples or the base of the image of Ptah. 29

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“justice,” “order,” “harmony,” etc.).33  In the case at hand, maat apparently designates the perfect (“normal”) state of the world established by the Creator and later corrupted by humans, so that it now only exists on earth as an archetyp: a Golden Age characterized by peace, social harmony, and material abundance. This idyllic state resulted from the mere presence on earth of the Creator, a being whose omniscience, omnipotence, and ubiquity sufficed to give the world its perfect form, to preserve it from attacks by the outer darkness, and, by imposing a social discipline permitting the triumph of the general interest over individual interest, to ensure the physical happiness of its inhabitants thanks to the equitable redistribution of resources. Since this world was created perfect, the manifest imperfection of the world in which we live seemed, in the eyes of the Egyptians, to be explicable only as the result of a fall, a punishment for an original sin, described in The Book of the Heavenly Cow34 as a plot hatched by humans against the Creator during the Golden Age, when the Creator was living among them on earth. The reason for this attitude seemed to be explicable by the ontological inability of humans, because of their small stature and hence their limited vision,35 to understand the need for a higher authority, even when it is acting in the general interest, and to accept its orders without discussion. Descriptions of times of trouble state that “each individual followed his own law, because there was no longer any commander,” and “everyone individually worked for himself.”36 It is precisely this inability—this stigma of their imperfection—that seems to be expressed by the word jsf.t (Wb I, 129,9–14). The etymology of this word is obscure, but its frequent use as a substitute for grg, “the lie,” in similar contexts implies that it designated a speech act, regardless of the abstract metaphors subsequently derived from it.37 I would take the risk of translating it as “the sedition,” in 33  See the outline by J. Assmann, Ma‘at, Gerechtigkeit und Unsterblichkeit im Alten Ägypten (Munich, 1990) (of which J. Assmann, Maât, l’Égypte pharaonique et l’idée de justice sociale [Paris, 1989], is an abridged preparatory version), and the useful review of this work by St. Quirke, “Translating Ma‘at”, JEA 80 (1994), 219–231. 34   E. Hornung, Der ägyptische Mythos von der Himmelskuh (OBO 46; FribourgGöttingen, 1982). 35   For the relationship between hierarchical elevation and the angle of vision, see below, p. 852. 36   S nb m ʿq¡=f, nn n=w r(¡)-ḥ ry, P. Harris I, 75,3; jrr n=f s nb ḥ r rn=f, Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, 64 (KRI II 369,13). 37   Jrr(w) m¡ʿ.t šw(=w) m grg, “a person who practices Maat is without lie,” Ptahhotep, 16,2. [sḥ tm] grg, sḫ pr m¡ʿ.t, “annihilate lying and bring about maat”, Eloquent Peasant R 16,1–2 (R.B. Parkinson, The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant, [Oxford, 20052]).



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its connotation of a lack of discipline. According to Ptahhotep, this is precisely the disease inflicted upon children at their birth, before education enables them to overcome it.38 The punishment for this sin was the divorce between the Creator and his creatures, unable, so to speak, to live together on earth because of ontological incompatibility. Withdrawing to heaven, where he has reigned since then in the form of the sun, the god allowed humanity, lacking a guide, to plunge into the darkness and to give in to its natural tendencies toward isefet and its procession of calamities, but not until after he had first condemned it to almost total extermination, thus manifesting the thunderbolts of his anger and the scope of his power: “I am going to kill them; when no one is left, there will no longer be anything to limit the expanse of my power.”39 Once the crisis was over, returning naturally to the supreme solicitude that together with the destructive omnipotence forms the twin face of absolute power, the god gave humans the means of collective redemption: the institution of the monarchy, according to which the pharaoh unquestionably appears as the “messiah” of the Egyptians, the chosen of God, his son, elected by him to restore on earth the original Golden Age while canceling out the effects of the original sin. Like any agent assigned by his superior to perform a task, the king is accountable to the god for the performance of his mandate. It is precisely this rendering of accounts that is often depicted in Egyptian monuments by the scene entitled ḥ nk m¡ʿ.t n nb m¡ʿ.t, “offering maat to the lord of maat,” by which the king symbolically affirms the restoration of maat on earth—that is, the work of his reign—, by presenting god(s) with the hieroglyph write its name [Fig. 2].40

(C 10A), which served to

  M rd(w) ʿḏʿḏ=t(w)=k: srwd m¡ʿ.t. ʿnḫ msw.w=k jr tp jr(y), (jw=sn) j=y ẖr jsf.t, “Do not allow anyone to heckle you; maintain order. Your children (= disciples) can only live according to such a principle, for they arrived (= were born) bearers of sedition,” Ptahhotep, 18,1–3. 39   sm¡=j s.t; (m-ḫ t) sp~n jwty, nn wn ʿnd(w) ʿw.t ʿ=j, Book of the Heavenly Cow, Sety I, col. 27–28. Sp~n in my opinion can be explained only as a perfective nominal form of the verb spj, “remain” (Wb III, 439–7-15), forming an adverb in protasis. 40   The study by E. Teeter, The Presentation of Maat. Ritual and Legitimacy in Egypt (SAOC 57; Chicago, 1997), offers a complete catalogue of these scenes, but in our opinion does not propose a convincing interpretation. 38

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Figure 2. Sety I offers maat to the “Ramesside trinity,” Amun, Re, and Ptah.41

More concretely, this rendering of accounts also took the form of texts and representations commemorating the great deeds of a king or the most important achievements of his reign on the walls of the temples. Exceptionally, and in response to exceptional events (an attempted coup d’état), it even led to the drafting of a one-of-a-kind document, the Papyrus Harris I, which claims to contain a complete report, with supporting figures, on all the achievements of Ramesses III’s reign. The “vignettes” that introduce the major sections of the document show the king exhibiting his work to the most prominent divinities of the country [Fig. 3]. We note how, in his address gesture, the king’s uttering of the text’s contents iconographically takes the place of the symbol maat in the preceding scene. The existence of such compositions, and the fact that they were placed in semi-public locations and therefore not just addressed to gods but rather to anyone who was able to read them (literate people), shows that the pharaohs were fully aware of the fact that the royal mandate, albeit of divine origin, could not be properly discharged without the approval of public opinion (at any rate, the opinion of the elites),

  Round-top of the decree of Sety I at Nauri (Sudan), Griffith, JEA 13 (1927), pl. 39.

41



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Figure 3.  Ramesses III reports his reign’s achievements to the Theban Triad (Amun, Mut, Khonsu).42

Figure 4. Details preceding illustrations.

and therefore, to some extent, under its control.43 Absent any representative authority making it possible to institutionally exercise such control, it was feared that demonstrations of disapproval or protest would take its place, for example the strikes by the workers of Deir el-Medina 42   P. Harris, pl. 2, drawing by P. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. 1 (BdE 109; Cairo, 1994), 225. 43   The elites, the only literate people, then disseminated the message orally to the rest of society. Note, for example, how the Late-Period “Sesostris Romance” still visibly contained elements of propaganda going back to Ramesses II and even to the Middle Kingdom.

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or the attempted coup d’état, known as the “harem conspiracy,” that characterized the end of Ramesses III reign. The mediatization of his acts of power through the aforementioned texts and depictions, and the highlighting, both of his achievements and of his act’s conformity with the requirements of his position, were thus the preferred method of preventively building the consensus of public opinion around his policy. The growing place occupied on the temples walls by military scenes, from the Eighteenth Dynasty on, seems to present us with an excellent illustration thereof.44 The framework of the royal activity having been determined by the injunction to “bring about the advent of maat” and “annihilate isefet,” the means for achieving such an endeavour are then indicated by the expressions wḏʿ rmṯ,  “judge humans,” and sḥ tp nṯr.w, “appease the gods,” equivalent, respectively, to the ideas of “governing” (preserving social harmony by arbitration of conflicts and correct redistribution of resources) and “performing worship” (rendering an account, by appropriate rites, of the discharge of the divine mandate). The defense of Egypt against foreign aggression, which one would expect to see named as an additional task, is not explicitly mentioned in the text, inasmuch as it is implied by the need, for the king, to preserve Creation as he received it. It is therefore included in the precept sḫ pr m¡ʿ.t. The satisfaction or “appeasement” of the gods guarantees their daily return to earth; in the case of Re, in the form of the daytime sunlight; for the other gods, in the spiritual form (ba) that comes to inhabit their statues. In contrast, their dissatisfaction would cause them to return to heaven, leaving humanity to drown once again into the shadows of barbarity, until the start of a new cycle of human history. This accounts, for instance, for the disturbances at the end of the Nineteenth Dynasty and the arrival of Setnakht, founder of the Twentieth Dynasty: “This country . . . was in confusion, because it had departed from the loyalty to the god45 . . . but when the gods (once again) decided to appease themselves in order to restore the country to its balance, according to its traditional state, they established their bodily son as sovereign LPH of the entire country in their great place . . .”46

44  See the monograph of S.C. Heinz, Die Feldzugdarstellungen des Neuen Reiches, Eine Bildanalyse (DÖAWW XVIII;Vienna, 2001). 45   Elephantine Stela of Setnakht, l. 5 (KRI V 672). 46   P. Harris I, 75, 6–7.



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The first section of the text ends with two lines extending the king’s responsibility to the gods to the deceased, deified by their death; a fact confirmed by the tomb inscriptions, which continually link with royal intervention the partial reversion of the divine offerings to the cult of the dead. This responsibility was not a mere detail, for the worship of the departed permitted, by reading the edifying biographies of the tomb, the transmission from one generation to another of the moral values on which the continued existence of society was based. Section B The second section offers a metaphorical description of the Egyptian society as a pyramid with three levels, stratified not in social classes but in functional orders, in a way reminiscent, mutatis mutandis, of French society during the Ancien Régime. The upper stratum is occupied by the king alone, who dominates the rest of society without having contact with it, just as Re dominates the earth, being raised to the heavens by the ¡w.t-jb, the triumphal feeling of his own superiority, by analogy with the image of the sun, whose daily rising was related to a victory over the forces of darkness (the seemingly red color of the sun at dawn being deemed to reflect the blood of his vanquished enemies).47 The exaltation of the king’s position, carefully embodied, in the real world, by architecture such as the “window of appearance,” was designed to show him as the earthly embodiment of an ontological singularity. “A species unto himself, without equal,”48 he represented the sole known combination of a human body (mortal) and divine attributes (immortal), of which he was merely the depositary. This is obviously a distant king’s predecessor of the theory of the two bodies, put forth in the famous essay by Ernst Kantorowicz.49

47  As we know, this was the feeling experienced by the king when he returned victorious from war. The translation of Wb I, 4, 17–19, “joy,” is somewhat weak. According to the etymology, it is an “expansion of the mind/of awareness.” It is, mutatis mutandis, the feeling from which the Romans sought to protect triumphant generals by placing behind them a slave whose job it was to remind them that they were only mortals. 48   Urk. IV 1077, 8. 49   The King’s Two Bodies, a Study in Mediaeval Political Theology (Princeton, 1957), trad. française Les deux corps du roi, essai sur la théologie politique au Moyen-Âge (Bibliothèque des Histoires; Paris, 1987), republished in Kantorowicz, Œuvres (coll. Quarto; Paris, 2000), 643 et seq.

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KING

Informations

p‘.t (Executive agents)

Orders

rhy.t ̮ (Executors)

Figure 5a.  The Egyptian social pyramid.

Dominated by the king, the rest of society was composed of two categories, subordinated the one to the other, and designated by the archaic terms pʿ.t and rḫ y.t, the original meanings of which are unclear, but which are conventionally translated by egyptologists as “leaders” and “subjects.” The position and social function of these categories are expressed symbolically, in the text, not only by the precedence given to the pʿ.t over the rḫ y.t, but also by the way in which they are said to adopt, in the presence of the king, body postures externalizing (as indicated by the determinatives of the terms) the two primary psychological attitudes that the encounter with absolute power is supposed to arouse in the human mind (disapproval being in this case excluded): enthusiastic adherence, which leads to acclaiming the leader while standing up as if to touch him (ḥ ʿj, det. ); and respectful submission, which leads the subject to kneel before him while praising his greatness (hnw, det. ). It is clear that the first of these attitudes was considered to manifest the active adherence to his person and policy that an absolute sovereign expects of his executive agents; and the second, the passive obedience that he requires of the ordinary executors of his orders. It is thus obvious that in the framework of Egyptian society the pʿ.t and the rḫ y.t represented, respectively, the managers (in other words, the scribes) and the producers of resources.



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The functions of the three orders composing Egyptian society can be deduced from the foregoing analysis as follows: 1. The task of the king was to design and order execution, on the basis of knowledge, of a policy designed to protect Egypt (by means of war), ensure social harmony (by means of conflict resolution), and ensure the physical well-being of its inhabitants (by means of redistribution of resources). In contrast to his subordinates, whose inferior position allowed them to perceive only a portion of reality and to act only within those limits, his exceptional, superhuman position enabled him, and him alone, to discern the interests of society as a whole and to act accordingly. Knowledge and action were mutual determinants: being omniscient, the king was omnipotent. These concepts are expressed particularly in the attribution to the king, in our sources, of the divine attributes Sj¡ and Ḥ w, “knowledge” and “the power to give orders followed by execution,”50 and the quality of nb jr.t ḫ .t, “master of action.”51 2. The managers had the duty of carrying out the decisions of the monarch52 and providing him with the information pertinent or necessary for their formulation.53 As executive agents, they caused the activity of the monarch to be felt even in the most remote areas of the country, just as the rays of the sun penetrate the smallest corners of Creation: omniscient and omnipotent as God, he was thus equally endowed with ubiquity. 3. Lastly, the mere executors, unaware of the full details and the outcomes of the orders they received, were supposed to carry them out passively, without discussing or seeking to understand them. Obviously there is no place here for any separation of powers (the king commands, makes law and judges) nor for the slightest theoretical distinction between religious and secular (the pharaoh was both

  LÄ III, col. 65–67.   J. von Beckerath, Handbuch, 30. 52   The scribe is said to be “Someone who is able to transform attention into immediate action”: Satire of Trades, 10,9 (W. Helck, Die Lehre des Dw3-Htjj, Teil I-II [KÄT; Wiesbaden, 1970]). 53   The vizier Rekhmire is thus described as the ears and eyes of the sovereign, Urk. IV 1076, 14–16. 50 51

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king and priest). It seems obvious that for the Egyptian ideologues, as for those of other ages as well, only absolute power offered the king the possibility of performing rationally the innumerable tasks the dogma imposed upon him, and him alone.54 Concepts of this type are rooted in a pessimistic vision of the human being, who by his nature would be ignorant and hence in revolt against authority and even against his own interests, while prone to conflict, and therefore responsible for his own miseries. It is not surprising, then, that during its millennia of existence, Egyptian power was forced, by means of innumerable documents, to promote its own version of the social contract: peace, concord, and well-being in exchange for submission to authority. In the words of Ramesses III, exhorting his subjects to be faithful to his heir, Ramesses IV: Be you attached to his sandals! Kiss the earth in his presence! Bow down to him! Serve him at all times! Adore him! Show him respect! Exalt his perfection as you do for Re at dawn! Bring your gifts for him to his august palace! Bring him gifts from the lands of Egypt and from foreign countries! Absorb his words and decrees pronounced among you! Respect his words, and you will be preserved from his anger! Work for him as one man in all types of work: Drag monuments for him, dig ditches for him! If everything that your arms must do has been done for him, you will gain his favors and the sustenance that he dispenses each day will be heaped upon you.55

As we said, pharaoh’s power resulted from a delegation of God’s power, who has established him on earth as sole constituted body. Since this power is absolute, the king has the power to delegate it, in turn, to his executive agents, who can delegate it to their subordinates, and so on down to the base of the social structure (the father of the family being undoubtedly considered the ultimate holder of this power); the

54  Morever, the argument that unity of command and pre-eminence of position above and beyond parties are necessary tenets of absolute power seems to have been through the ages one of the principal intellectual justifications for this kind of authority. For the example of the French absolute monarchy, see in particular R. Koselleck, Kritik und Krise (Frankfurt, 1973; French translation, Le règne de la critique [Paris 1979]). 55   P. Harris I, 79, 7–11.



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only limitation being in principle the obligation to work, like the king, to restor maat on earth. The Vizier Rekhmire is thus described as “priest of maat”56 and his principal secretary as “scribe of maat,”57 while any official, and in fact any person with any level of education, was morally compelled to “practice (jrj) maat.” Let us note incidentally that various circumstances (minority or advanced age of the king, inability to rule, lack of political support, etc.) sometimes required the king, or required that he be forced, to delegate all his powers to an agent: regents like Hatshepsut or Horemheb, “prime minister,” like Bay under Siptah, or “dictator” (in the Roman meaning), like the future Ramesses III under the reign of Setnakht: “I was the commander in chief (r(¡)-ḥ ry ʿ¡) of the regions of Kemet, leading the entire country, united in a (single) entity.”58 The metaphor of the pyramid, which serves to express the stratification of Egyptian society, also makes it possible to express the idea that the field of exercise of power is in proportion to the hierarchical position of the person exercising it, by symbolizing that position as an elevation in space. The breadth of this field is determined by both the projection onto the reality to be administered of the angle of vision resulting from the degree of elevation [Fig. 5b], and by a “lateral” restriction due to the coexistence of colleagues of the same rank [Fig. 5c]. The higher the angle of vision, the more limited the number of colleagues and the broader the field. The portion of reality included in the angle of vision is proportionally identical with the field of exercise of power by virtue of the correlation between knowledge and action that we have already emphasized. Egyptian society thus appears not only as a pyramid but rather as a “pyramid of pyramids,” whose leaders were at each level the representatives of the higher authority. The very shape of the pyramid (seen in cross-section as a triangle) allows us to imagine, from top to bottom, that the points composing it increase in geometric progression by a common ratio of 2.  This idea formalizes the Egyptian thinking that a leader was in general the equivalent of two subordinates, as examplified by the image of the basic administrative triangle formed at the

  Urk. IV 1118, 16.   Urk. IV 1092, 4–5. 58   P. Harris I, 75,10–76,1. 56 57

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Social elevation

A

B

C

D

D C B A Field of perception / field of exercise of power

1

Social elevation

A

2

B

C

4

3

5

6

7

D C

C

C

B

C B

A Field of perception / field of exercise of power

Figures 5b and 5c. Social position and field of exercise of power.



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head of the State by the king and his two viziers or, at Deir el-Medina, the image formed by the scribe (the local representative of the vizier) and the two team leaders. *  *  * The text we just analyzed thus reveals very clearly that for the Egyptians, in contrast to the famous definition by Henri-Irénée Marrou, history was not the mere “knowledge of the human past” that forms the subject of academic research;59  that rational, objective, and disinterested research, which extends, without discrimination and according to linear time, to all human societies and all areas of their activity, and of which these societies are basically the collective actors. On the contrary, the Egyptians viewed history as a moral drama that produced ethical and social values: the perpetually cyclical struggle of good against evil, which the king alone had the power and the mission to lead, at the price of a meritorious effort aimed at redeeming the human race; a drama that unfolded in an idealized space (Creation) and a circular time, timed by the cyclical succession of days and nights, seasons, reigns, periods of stability and periods of disruption; as such symbolizing on the whole the dialectical opposition of light and darkness, good and evil, being and nothingness. In a word, their view was a philosophy of history, conveying the idea that history has a meaning and a purpose, and that its unfolding depends on a single, providential causality: a divine project that is sometimes disconcerting but which wise men and scholars can proclaim, explain, and reveal, right down to even the most paradoxical events. In this intellectual framework, there is nothing to differentiate political history from a religion and the king from a priest. Every act by a pharaoh, whether political, military, economic, or religious, is equivalent to the performance of a rite (restoration of maat) that embodies a myth (the institution of maat) and serves to accomplish the divine purpose (Redemption).60 During the New Kingdom, these ideas led to the formulation of almost all the written and plastic productions intended for public consumption, in which historiography, reduced

  H.-I. Marrou, De la connaissance historique (Paris, 1975), 29.   The concept of “history as festival,” developed by E. Hornung in his famous essay, Geschichte als Fest, Zwei Vorträge zum Geschichtsbild der Frühen Menschheit (Libelli, Bd. 246; Darmstadt, 1966), 9–29, seems to us somewhat too restrictive in this regard. We would prefer to speak of “history as worship.” 59 60

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to a biography of the kings,61 was devoted to the sole celebration of those events whose commemoration was considered pertinent.62 They also served to mediatize a method of evaluating reigns: a legitimate king restores maat by his acts because, by virtue of his divine election, he is endowed with the charismata that enable him to ensure the triumph of the general interest over the individual. Conversely, any catastrophic period in Egyptian history proves (retrospectively) that the king reigning during that period lacked these charismata and had therefore usurped his office, even if inherited according to human law: as in the Saint Paul of the “Verus Israel,” the relationship through the spirit takes precedence over relationship through the body. In the New Kingdom these two extremes are personified, so to speak, by the personalities, each emblematic in its own way, of Ramses II and Akhenaten. From Constitution to Institution The institutional space inside whose boundaries the drama of history unfolds—the Egyptian State—is not the land of the geographers, but rather a sacred space, Creation, being itself a projection of the mind of the Creator. It is his domain, and in administering its fruits the king is merely acting as his steward. This space is defined by an identity, expressed by a name; a territory, bounded by frontiers; a population, identified as such; and, lastly, autonomy of management. These characteristics were found in the institutions (pr) that the king might establish on earth for the worship of the gods, but the Egyptian State was distinguished from these institutions by the fact that it was contained in no other and contained them all. In this framework, and as we understands it according to the text discussed in the preceding section, the mandate to restore maat, on earth or, in less symbolical terms, “Egypt’s normal condition” (sḫ r=f mty)63

61   P. Grandet, “L’Historiographie égyptienne, (auto)biographie des rois ?”, in: Évenement, récit, histoire officielle, L’écriture de l’histoire dans les monarchies antiques, acte du colloque du Collège de France 2002, N. Grimal & M. Baud, eds. (Études d’égyptologie 3; Paris, 2004), 187–194. 62  In this case, the items that remain, sp (Wb III, 435,1–436,1), from spj, “remain” (Wb III, 439-7-15). 63   P. Harris I, 75, 6.



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imposed upon the pharaoh a three-fold political program associated with three means of action ensuring its realization and three agencies entrusted with their implementation: Objectives

Means of Action

Agencies

Social harmony

Arbitration of disputes/ redistribution of wealth

Administration

Protection of Egypt

War and diplomacy

Army, envoys

Worship

Establishment and maintenance of ad hoc institutions

Clergy

A striking feature of the Egyptian institutional system is the fact that some of the means of action enumerated above could be implemented by the king not only directly (which was generally the case of the administration and the army) but also indirectly, by the granting of royal rights to autonomous authorities (“foundations,” to use a generic term) whose divine domains, invoked above, are the best documented examples (see below, section B). A.  Direct Government Action The King The Residence of the King In the Eighteenth Dynasty, except during the Amarna phase, the official residence of the king as head of state had normally been Memphis. In the Ramessid period, he governed Egypt from Pi-Ramesses (Tell el-Ḍ abʿa / Qantir), in the northeastern Nile delta, where buildings erected for this purpose housed the ministers and the dignitaries of his court. However, he had numerous other residences, established wherever leisure or need led him, including the Merenptah Palace at Memphis and the palace of Ramesses III at Tell el-Yahudīya, north of Heliopolis, not to mention those normally associated with the royal funerary temples on the left bank of Thebes, such as the Ramesseum and Medinet Habu. The proliferation of these residences was justified specifically by the fact that the king often had to travel around Egypt for official purposes. In addition to his coronation, which took him to Thebes, he might cross Egypt from north to south as leader of military campaigns

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in Nubia, or engage in inspection tours,64 unless he ordered other parties to perform them; for the Ramesside era, the general inspection of the temples of Egypt under Ramesses III is the best documented example.65 More specifically, however, the performance of his duties involved, according to a custom begun by Thutmose III, that he travel with the court to Thebes once a year to preside over the ceremonies of the festival of Opet and announce various government decisions.66 His presence on that occasion in a city that was the residence of the Vizier of Upper Egypt, for a period of time that increased steadily during the New Kingdom (from 11 days under Thutmose III to 27 days beginning with Ramesses III),67 was a way of specifically assuming his duties as king of Upper Egypt and regularly ensuring the political liaison of the two areas of the country, administratively separated by the existence of a two-fold vizierate. A specific agency, the “escort harem” (pr-ḫ nr ḥ r šms),68 handled the logistics for these trips, while river stations, the “pharaoh’s landing stages,” equipped with their own resources, were maintained to serve as stopping places.69 The official residence of the king at Thebes is not known, but it was probably on the east bank. The palaces of the royal funerary temples seem in fact much too modest to have been anything more than pieds-à-terre on the left bank of the Nile, where the king stayed only long enough to preside during his sojourns over certain specific ceremonies. The palaces of Amenhotep III in Malqata were for their part merely temporary structures, abandoned after the performance of the sed festivals for which they had been built.

64  Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 3 and 7 (ed. J.-M. Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb, Traduction, commentaire épigraphique, philologique et institutionnel (Brussels, 1981). 65  See Grandet, Ramsès III, 219–225. 66  Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 27–31. 67   Cf. Grandet, Papyrus Harris I, vol. 2, n. 325. 68   Numerous references in the Judicial Papyrus of Turin, KRI V 350–360; e.g. 352,16–353,1. 69  Decree of Horemheb, loc. cit. Numerous references in the P. Wilbour, A §37, 84–85, 154–155, 241 (A.H. Gardiner, The Wilbour Papyrus, 4 vol. [London, 1941– 1952]); cf. Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18. The “military ports” of the Levantine coast  mentioned in the Annals of Thutmose III are probably nothing more than these landing stages; cf. my book, Les Pharaons du Nouvel Empire (1550–1069 av. J.-C.): Une pensée stratégique (L’Art de la guerre; Paris, 2008), 97–98.



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The Powers of the King As an absolute monarch, the king held all the powers that modern political doctrine has endeavored to separate since Montesquieu: he directed, he judged, and was the sole source of legislation. As a matter of fact, it seems that the Egyptians never imagined that the union of these various competences in a single person could be contradictory; the inevitable manifestations of such a contradiction—favoritism, corruption, etc.—were viewed simply as human weaknesses. On the contrary, like other adherents to the doctrine of the absolute power of the State, they always considered the exercising of justice and the establishment of legislation as prerogatives of authority, intrinsically associated, “out of fear that Justice would lack Strength and Strength would lack Justice.”70 Inasmuch as justice seemed to them to be basically the application of a disciplinary law, aimed at preserving or restoring maat—social harmony—any holder of authority seemed to them naturally placed in the position being an arbitrator for his subordinates. As we have seen in the text analyzed in the preceding section, the Egyptian language moreover designated government action by the verb “to judge” (wḏʿ), thus relating it basically to the performance of arbitration. The king’s hold on power was reinforced by the fact that certain ranks or offices appear to have been reserved to members of his family. The heir presumptive was often given the title general in chief, and seems to have actually assumed these duties as soon as he was of age to do so. At the end of the reign of Ramesses III, when the heir to the throne, the future Ramesses IV, was actually exercising these powers, his next younger brother was general of chariotry, that is, second in command of the Egyptian army.71 Lastly, in a tradition that went back at least to Ramesses II and the appointment of the famous Khaemwaset as head of the clergy of Memphis, the positions of the high priests of

  Liber augustalis (“Constitutions of Melfi”) I, 31 (1251 A.D.), quoted by E. Kantorowicz, Les deux corps du roi, essai sur la théologie politique au Moyen-Âge, in Kantorowicz, Œuvres (coll. Quarto; Paris, 2000), 736. Four centuries later, Pascal expressed the same idea in his Pensées, in words astonishingly similar: “Justice without strength is powerless; strength without justice is tyrannical” (ed. Brunschvicg, §298). 71   Ramesses as chief of the army: KRI V 372, 15–373,-6, 412–414; with his brother, the general of chariotry: KRI V 214, 4. 70

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Heliopolis and Memphis seem to have sometimes been reserved to other sons of the king.72 As an interpreter of the divine intentions, the king assumed all legislative powers, with no other formality than proclaiming his decisions in this regard before the members of his council.73 As far as we can determine, the acts in question fell into three categories: “laws” (hp), “decrees” (wḏ), and “regulations” (tp-rd). These terms had approximately the same meaning that they have in modern times. Laws were universal in scope, while decrees had a specific range, and therefore served in most cases to define the scope of application of a law or to exempt persons and institutions from its provisions. Lastly, regulations simply organized the activity of a community or the discharge of a duty. Unfortunately, very few elements of this legislation have come down to us. It had to be supplemented by numerous customary-law provisions and a body of precedential case-laws that unfortunately is no better known. These acts were promulgated, under the responsibility of the vizier,74 by dissemination in the form of circulars to the various branches of the administration, but did not acquire force of law until they were recorded in the day-books of the addressee institutions.75 For some of these acts, it was also considered necessary to publish them by “posting” their text or excerpts thereof on stelæ or any other support, in locations where their presence was felt to be appropriate, so that no one could be deemed to be unaware of their contents. This was notably the case of decrees.76 72   This was the case, for example, in the time of Ramesses III; cf. Grandet, Papyrus Harris I, vol. II, n. 529 and 718. 73   The king is a replica of Horus, of whom it is said that hpw n(y) t¡ jw(=w) r ʿḥ ʿw=f, “the laws of the country have come about by virtue of his status (as king),” Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, 60 (KRI II 329,6–7). 74  Duties of the Vizier, col. 21–22 (Urk. IV 1112, 4). The laws were kept in his archives: P. Leiden I 344 r°, 6,9–10 (R. Enmarch, The Dialogue of Ipuwer and the Lord of All [Oxford, 2005]). 75  Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 4. See the examples given below, n. 96. 76   Examples include the Decree of Horemheb, placed in the courtyard of the tenth pylon of Karnak; the Decrees of Nauri and Elephantine (Griffith, JEA 13 [1927], 193– 208, KRI I 45–58, et V, 342–345), both placed in strategic positions on the bank of the Nile, where they were deemed to be seen; or the Twenty-first Dynasty version in hieratic writing incised in stone (to be better read and understood) of the famous decree preserving the burial foundation of Amenhotep, son of Hapu (stele BM 138), Cl. Robichon, A. Varille, Le temple du scribe royal Amenhotep fils de Hapou (FIFAO 11; Cairo, 1936), 1–10. Another example is the texts of the decrees from eras antedating the Middle Kingdom, and their very special material presentation; H. Goedicke, Königliche Dokumente aus dem Alten Reich (ÄgAbh 14; Wiesbaden, 1967). The fact



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Justice was conceived of as a means of restoring the order of the world that had been disrupted by a conflict between individuals or between individuals and institutions (civil and administrative justice), or by an offense against social order (criminal justice), or by an internal conflict within an institution (ordinal justice). The king was naturally the supreme judge of all his subjects. However, he exercised this prerogative only exceptionally; normally he delegated its exercise to his administrators (appellate justice), local government councils (regular justice), or even commissioners (special justice).77 His personal interventions were limited chiefly to the exercise of the right of pardon (the death penalty could be administered only with his formal approval)78 and to serving as supreme avenue of appeal, to which every Egyptian theoretically had the right to petition directly, in conformity with the “patriarchal” ideal of pharaonic society. However, to prevent the sovereign from being overwhelmed by a flood of inept or frivolous petitions, a procedural rule required that they be first submitted to the vizier, in writing,79 for his ruling on their admissibility. The fact that oral petitions were not considered presupposes the existence of a class of scribes authorized to embody these petitions in writing (the vast majority of the population being illiterate), or even to represent at hearings those persons who were unable to appear personally, thereby assuming the functions of attorneys at law.80 At municipal and village level, justice was administered by emanations of the councils of notables who controlled the various human communities, and who met as a court when circumstances so required. These bodies were designated by the simple term “council” (qnb.t), a term that in the Egyptian language served as a generic name for any collegial deliberative administrative body from the national government, down to a village or a temple administrative council. The powers of that these documents were deemed to have been read, although in practice very few people were able to do so, was, as in our times, a legal fiction intended to support the supposed universality of legislation. 77   For the third case, a clear example is the investigative committee formed to judge the participants in the Harem conspiracy. KRI V 350, 11–16. 78   P. Léopold II-Amherst, 4,11–12 (KRI VI 489,6–8); reminiscence in P. BM 10052, 8,19 (KRI VI 787,6–7). 79  Duties of the Vizier, 20–21 (Urk. IV 1111,14–1112,2). The hero of the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant does not subscribe to this practice . . . 80   The use of a lawyer (the term used is rwḏw, “delegate”) is attested, without the slight ambiguity, in the Second Intermediate Period, in the Juridical Stela of Karnak, Cairo JE 52453, l. 17, 19, 27 (Lacau, Stèle juridique).

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these local councils were not in any way limited to the administration of justice; rather, they included extensive administrative tasks, in particular the validation and recording of property transfers. Horemheb bragged of having established them,81 but in fact this type of institution had existed since antiquity: multiples various documents of the Middle Kingdom and the Second Intermediate Period illustrate their procedures and numerous powers.82 In his Karnak decree, Horemheb provides us with valuable information on their composition and their mode of operation: “The members of the councils (qnb.t) are the prophets of the temples, the governors of the interior of this country, and the wab priests of the gods, and they establish any council they wish in order to judge any citizen.”83 An Egyptian court was thus defined only by the list of persons qualified to compose it and the delegation of power granted to it by the king, without need for a permanent organization involving a specific location, an office, scheduled sessions, or even a composition determined by name. This flexibility is baffling to those who would like to see in ancient Egypt a reflection of our own institutions, but is particularly characteristic of the two local “courts” for which we are best documented in the New Kingdom: the qnb.t of Deir el-Medina, and the high council (qnb.t ʿ¡.t) of Thebes, which judged the Theban tombs robbers at the end of the Twentieth Dynasty.84 These courts did not constitute local agencies of a specific “national” organization of the judiciary (which did not exist), and their members were only local notables who were probably poorly informed of judicial realities. However, it is obvious that these councils, established as courts, obeyed specific procedural rules (a model of which is provided by Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead), and, with respect to the matters submitted to them, had to be familiar with the pertinent

 Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 7–8.  Incomplete list of such documents: the legal papyri of Kahun, Griffith, The Petrie Papyri, pl. IX–XIII; Collier, Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri:Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical (BAR-IS 1209; Oxford, 2006), 99–123; the P. Berlin P 10470 (P.C. Smither, JEA 34 [1948], 31–34, pl. VII–VIII; Helck, Historisch-­Biographische Texte, 50–54, n° 69); the P. Brooklyn 35.1446 (Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom); the Juridical Stele of Karnak (Lacau, Stèle juridique). 83  Decree of Horemheb, right face, l. 7. 84   For the former, cf. A.G. Mac Dowell, Jurisdiction in the Workmen’s Community of Deir el-Medîna (EgUit 5; Leidenn, 1990). For the latter, cf. G. Demidoff, Le pillage de la nécropole et des temples thébains à l’époque Ramesside. Aspects chronologiques, factuels et institutionnels, unpublished doctoral dissertation, École pratique des Hautes-Études, IVe Section, dir. M. Pascal Vernus, Paris, 2004. 81 82



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legislative texts. Their members were moreover expected to occupy their office with integrity and impartiality,85 and their decisions had to be based on grounds and be in conformity with law (mj nt(y).t r hp), or otherwise had to respect the principle of fairness (mtr).86 Lastly, although judgments were viewed as the impersonal application of a uniform law, the judges were often asked to mitigate its rigors with benevolence.87 These various considerations involved administrative control of the operation of the “courts” and their decisions. Various examples show that the vizier’s administration was always represented, regardless of the title of its representative: wḥ mw or “reporter” in most cases, ordinary scribe in the case of Deir el-Medina and, undoubtedly, in the case of most local communities. If we can extrapolate from the rules in effect in other eras, the vizier had to formally confirm the judgments of the local courts before they were recognized as valid.88 The exception was the death penalty, the confirmation of which, as we have seen, was a royal prerogative. The vizier’s archives were required by law to contain copies of all judgments handed down in the country, as well as the deeds of transfer that the “courts” had approved. This documentation enabled the vizier’s council to function as a court of appeals, as we learn from the Duties of the Vizier or the texts pertaining to the case of Mose.89 Lastly, we note that the ability to investigate and judge the professional shortcomings of all members of the administration was reserved to the vizier. This gave him the added status of supreme administrative judge.90

85  Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 5–6; Instructions to the Vizier, col. 11–12 (Urk. IV 1090, 1); col. 19–20 (Urk. IV 1092, 9–13). 86  Instructions to the Vizier, col. 5 (Urk. IV 1088, 5–6). 87  Instructions to the Vizier, col. 9–11 (Urk. IV 1089, 9–15); col. 12–13 (Urk. IV 1090, 3–10). 88  In P. Brooklyn 35.1446 (Hayes, Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom), the vizier confirms the judgments handed down by local courts, pursuant to mechanical application of the law, condemning persons guilty of anachoresis to enslavement. His intervention in these cases may have been ascribable to the seriousness of such a measure. 89  Inscription of Mose, N 13–15 (KRI III 428). 90  Duties of the Vizier, col. 8–9 (Urk. IV 1107, 3–9).

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The Administration In theory, the Ramesside pharaoh held political and administrative power -with no other restriction than due respect for maat- over the entire country, within the limits of its frontiers, which were often materialised in situ by appropriate emblems or short inscriptions.91 This absolutism gave him the right to delegate temporarily or permanently some or all of this power, according to his wishes. Temporary delegation could assume a wide variety of forms, from a simple mission to regency of the country. A permanent delegation organized an administrative office whose existence, independent of its holder, was sanctioned by law or by tradition, and which could be defined by its competences and/or its position in a hierarchical system of similar offices.92 Next to this type of delegation, whose beneficiaries were individuals, a special procedure allowed the king to grant royal powers to independent institutions constituting legal entities, like the divine domains (cf. below, B. Indirect government action). A fundamental principle of delegation of power is post eventum monitoring of the activity of the agent (the delegate), to whom the principal (the delegator) is deemed to have allocated the resources, freedom of action, and time necessary for the performance of the task he has been assigned to perform. This monitoring is done by means of a rendering of accounts in which the principal examines the results of the agent’s activity and his use of the resources made available to him. Just as the king had to account to the god for the discharge of his mandate (scene of the maat offering, above, Fig. 2), the governors of the provinces were required to render an accounting of their activity to the vizier, with supporting documentation, at the beginning of each four-month period; any management irregularity was the subject of a reprimand that was recorded in the offender’s personal file.93 Obviously the same applied to each subordinate with respect to his 91  See the example of the “frontier panels” of Tombos (Urk. IV, 87–88) and the inscriptions of the Ḥ agar el-Merwa at Kurgūs (W.V. Davies, “La frontière méridionale de l’Empire: les Égyptiens à Kurgus”, BSFE 157 [2003], 23–44). 92  A good example of a detailed definition of competences is provided by the Juridical Stela of Karnak, l. 12–13 (Legrain, Stèle juridique), which states that pursuant to a renewable one-year mandate the scribe of the “Great closed chamber” (the archives of the vizier) assumes the position of scribe of the reporter for the northern district of the country in the event of the death of this scribe. 93  Duties of the Vizier, col. 13–15 (Urk. IV 1108,15–1109,7).



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superior. Concerning this point we need only recall the omnipresence, in the Old Kingdom mastabas, of scenes showing the rendering of accounts by the managers of funerary domains. The Administrative Organization The Ramesside pharaoh governed Egypt by means of a complex administration organized on two levels, central and local. Barring explicit exemption, the agents could request all the human and physical resources needed for the performance of their mandate. In the Ramesside era, this administration still generally adopted a two-fold structure, corresponding to the institutional division of the country into two major districts or “kingdoms,” the respective capitals of which were Thebes and Memphis, the “two major cities (njw.ty-wr.ty) of Upper and Lower Egypt.”94 Although they were still used in literary and poetic texts, the terms traditionally designating these entities, Šmʿw and Mḥ w, literally “the narrow country” and “the inundated country,” are replaced, in contemporary administrative texts, by the more prosaic names ʿ-rsy and ʿ-mḥ y, “southern part” and “northern part” of the country.95 It is difficult to provide a very precise organizational chart for this administration; on the one hand because of the incomplete and ambiguous nature of our sources (in particular, it is often difficult to determine if the title of an official corresponds to a local or national office); on the other hand, because of its complexity; a natural by-product of its ambition to monitor all human activities, and the concommitant need to record all acts for purposes of periodical verification by a higher authority. As a consequence, this administration have produced mountains of written documents. Unfortunately, only a tiny portion of this material 94  Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 4. The history of the office of the vizier in the Twentieth Dynasty is not well known. In the year 29 of the reign of Ramesses III, the vizier of Upper Egypt, To, was promoted to the office of vizier of the entire country. We believe, however, that this must have been a mere temporary measure designed for allowing a more rational administrative organization of the king’s jubilee, and not an institutional reform. (Moreover, the appointment of a single office holder at the head of two administrations does not inevitably imply a merger of the two.) The courts that judged the thieves who plundered the royal tombs at the end of the dynasty were presided over by the governor of Thebes and the vizier of Upper Egypt. This clearly implies the continued existence of a duplication of the vizier’s office at the end of the Twentieth Dynasty. 95  Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 24; P. Harris I, 7,10, 10,3–5, 59,5, etc.

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has come down to us. From various sources we know that every administrative agency had to maintain at least a day-book (“journal”) that described and quantified its daily activity, and in which its administrative correspondence (orders, reports), as well as newly promulgated laws and decrees, were recorded.96 In addition to this journal, every administration preserved in its archives a copy of the documents within its jurisdiction, with the original being sent to the central administration if appropriate, then issued copies to the parties affected by its decisions. A very simple act, for example a deed of transfer, could thus generate four sets of identical documents (local archives, central archives, copies to the parties concerned), provided that it was not deemed necessary for several central administrative offices to preserve additional copies. Given the vital nature of the use of writing in the Egyptian administration, it is obvious that the capacity of scribe was a mandatory prerequisite for joining this body, and, to this extent, it can be agreed that all Egyptian officials were scribes (although not all scribes were officials). This hypothesis presupposes the existence of an educational system, about which we know very little,97 and official certification of knowledge, embodied in the issuance of a specific degree that led to immediate incorporation into the ranks of the officials. This degree could be that of “royal scribe” (sš n(y)-sw.t). It is worthy of note that

96   Two examples from the Middle Kingdom: P. Reisner II (W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II: Accounts of the Dockyard Workshop at Thinis in the Reign of Sesostris I, Transcription and Commentary [Boston, 1965]), “The Semnah Dispatches” (P.C. Smither, “The Semnah Despatches”, JEA 31 [1945], 3–10, pl. II / IIa–VII / VIIa). Allusions in the Decree of Horemheb, right face, col. 4. The documentation of Deir elMedîna illustrates this point in numerous ways; cf., e.g., G. Botti, T.E. Peet, Il Giornale della Necropoli di Tebe (Turin, 1928); K. Donker Van Heel & B.J.J. Haring, Writing in a Workmen’s Village, Scribal Practice in Ramesside Deir el-Medina (EgUit 16; Leiden, 2003). 97   For the Ramesside period, the biography of Bakenkhonsu is the best source (statues Cairo CG 42155 [KRI III 295–297], and Munich, Gl. WAF 38 [KRI III 296–299], E. Frood, Biographical Texts from Ramesside Egypt [Society of Biblical Literature: Writings from the Ancient World, 26; Atlanta, 2007], 40–45). Allusions to the studies are scattered throughout the “miscellanies” and other Egyptian texts (LÄ V, col. 737–739, s.v. “Schülerhandschriften” [H. Brunner]). Memorization of the classics must have been part of the basic education of scribes throughout Egypt, as indicated, for example, by the recent discover of an excerpt from Kemyt in the Dakhla oasis; cf. O.E. Kaper, “A Kemyt Ostracon from Amheida, Dakhleh Oasis”, BIFAO 110 (2010), 115–126.



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just about any New Kingdom administrator appears to have automatically borne this title as the first component of his titulature.98 The appointment of an official was the venue for a ceremony in which a speech reminding the appointee of the scope of his mandate was given by the delegating authority, with possible delivery of a copy of the pertinent regulations: the issuing of an official seal identifying him by his title, and, in the absence of any monetary system, the award of a beneficial interest in resources in kind (residence, agricultural property, proceeds from various taxes, etc.) intended to provide the appointee with a salary and to enable him to support his rank.99 The existence of official seals still constituted an aspect of the omnipresence of written documents in the administrative sphere. Apposition of such seals, like that of our modern wet and dry stamps, identified the acts of an official and rendered him legally liable for them, as for example when the vizier ordered the nighttime closing of the gates of the royal palace by causing seals to be apposed in his name.100 The Central Administration By synecdoche (pars pro toto), the central administration of Upper and Lower Egypt seems, in our opinion, to have been generally designated   98  At any rate, the title appears to assume this meaning starting with Amenhotep III, as is illustrated by its generalization from this era on; cf. A. Onasch, “Der Titel ‘Schreiber des Königs’—Ursprung und Funktion”, in: Jerusalem Studies in Egyptology, I. Shirun-Grumach, ed. (ÄAT 40; Wiesbaden, 1998), 331–343. The omnipresence of the scribe in the Egyptian administration can be compared with that of the royal secretaries (“notaries”) in the Kingdom of Sicily during the time of Friedrich II Hohenstaufen (1194–1250), the first Western absolute monarch: “Notaries were numerous, even at the lowest levels of the administrations of finance, the army, strongholds, domains, forests, and ports, because they had to execute the documents of an administration that was based entirely on the exchange of written communications” (emphasis ours), E. Kantorowicz, Kaiser Friedrich der Zweite (Stuttgart, 1927), French translation L’Empereur Frédéric II (Bibliothèque des histoires; Paris, 1987), republished in Kantorowicz, Œuvres (coll. Quarto; Paris, 2000), 260.   99  See the scenes of the delivery to Huy of the seal of viceroy of Kush and the accompanying speech, in TT 70, N. de G. Davies, A. H. Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, Viceroy of Nubia in the Reign of Tut’ankhamun n° 70 (The Theban Tomb Series, 5; London, 1926), pl. 5–6; Urk. IV 2064, 6–8, 17–19. The Instructions to the Vizier is the text of a speech of this type, while The Duties of the Vizier is an example of the regulations given to the vizier at the time of his appointment; cf. infra. Concerning the remuneration of officials, cf. Juridical Stela of Karnak, 6–7, Urk. IV 1114,9, etc. For the Middle Kingdom, the text of the Contracts of Assiüt (P. Montet, “Les tombeaux de Siout et de Deir Rifeh,” Kêmi 3 [1930–1935], 45–69), shows us that a provincial governor enjoyed an official land estate for this purpose, and the proceeds of various taxes. 100  Duties of the Vizier, col. 3–5 (Urk. IV 1105,2–1106,16).

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by the term ‘arreryt, literally “the entrance” (to the royal palace), in a remarkable analogy with the way in which the Ottoman government was designated as Bab-ı Ali, “the Sublime Gate” of the residence of the Grand Vizier.101 One of the principal sources for our knowledge of this administration in the Ramesside period is the Onomasticon of Amenemope, which dates from the end of this era.102 This text is one of the onomastica, an Egyptian genre the existence of which is attested to at least since the Middle Kingdom, and which consists in simple lists of names compiled by Egyptian scholars to describe all the elements of the environment in which they lived. Even as no definitions are given for the terms, the order in which they are listed partially replaces such definitions, since this order is not arbitrary, as is for example the alphabetical order of our encyclopedias articles, but is instead hierarchical, beginning with the elements of the Universe and continuing with its resident beings, the cities of Egypt, and so on down to the most humble realities, such as the various types of bread or the various cuts of meats. The opening section of the Onomasticon of Amenemope [n° 67–125] thus contains an actual Notitia dignitatum of Ramesside Egypt, listing by title most of the officials comprising the upper echelon of its political and administrative structure, notwithstanding the existence of several repetitions and various inconsistencies, a situation that sometimes makes interpretation difficult. The King and His Council A first section devoted to the court [67–85] lists the king, the members of his family (including the heir presumptive), and a genuine government council consisting of about a dozen persons, which was probably duplicated into two such separate councils for Upper and 101   For the term in general, Wb I, 210–211, cf. the study by P. Spencer, The Egyptian Temple. A Lexicographical Study (Studies in Egyptology; London, 1984), 168–175. For the ʿrry.t as point of contact between the power and the outside world, cf. G.P.F. Van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier. Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom (Studies in Egyptology), London and New York, 1988, 81–84 and 278–281. “Disguised” as a loan word for reasons of fashion, the term is used in P. Harris I, 4,2 to designate the entrance lodges (“migdols”) of Medînet Habu (Grandet, Papyrus Harris I, vol. II, n. 67). As entrance to the royal palace, cf. Stele Cairo CG 34001, l. 12–13 (Urk. IV 18, 3–4), the formulation of which clearly evokes a structure similar to that of Medinet Habu. As designation of the central administration, cf., e.g., Peasant, B1 215–216 (Parkinson, Tale of the Eloquent Peasant), Satire of the Trades, 11,2 (Helck, Lehre des Dw3-Ḫ tjj). 102  A.H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, 2 vol. text, 1 vol. pl. (London, 1947).



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Lower Egypt. The council members included the vizier [73], head of the civil administration; a private confidential adviser designated by the title “sole friend” [74], undoubtedly chosen on the basis of his experience and probably the most eminent of a group of advisers of the monarch; the eldest son of the king [75], undoubtedly included in the debates for the purpose of training him in his future role as sovereign; the general in chief of the army [76], a position held by the heir presumptive when he was of age to hold it; the dispatch scribe [78], head of a correspondence office whose function was, inter alia, to supervise displomacy, this activity being fundamentally considered a bilateral exchange of correspondence;103 the head of the chamber[79], who represented within this council the private service of the king, and whose duties undoubtedly required him to be one of his confidential advisers;104 the first herald of the king [80], that is, the head of his spokesmen;105 a works manager, appointed to direct the restoration or construction of monuments [81–82]; the director of chamberlains [83], who represented the king’s household; and, lastly, the head of the office of the king and his scribe [84–85], who probably managed the council office. This body is sometimes called the “council of listeners” (qnb.t sḏmy.w),106 a term sometimes used in other contexts to designate a court.107 Its powers are deduced from the duties of its members. As can be seen, they were chiefly advisers to the king, executive agents, and managers of its communications with the outside world. The Civil Administration A second section of the Onomasticon of Amenemope repeats the list, starting with the vizier and the general in chief, and sets forth in 103   Example of use in a context that excludes all foreign policy considerations, the participation of two dispatch scribes in the special twelve-member court convened to judge the members of the harem conspiracy, KRI V 350, 11–16. Their presence apparently served to keep the king informed by his own communication office of the progress of the trial. 104   The importance of the duties of such a person is illustrated by the key role held in the “harem conspiracy,” at the end of the reign of Ramesses III, by the man known by the surname of Paybakkamen: P. Judiciaire of Turin, 4,2 (KRI V 352, 2–9) and many other allusions in this text; P. Rollin (KRI V 360–361). 105   Toward the end of the New Kingdom, their powers seem to overlap partially with those of the royal cupbearers (see below, p. 874), and to lose in importance to their benefit. 106   KRI V 343,13–14. 107  Decree of Horemheb, right face, 7. P. Vienne 9340, r° 9 (Mohamed Salah ElKholi, Papyri und Ostraka aus der Ramessidnzeit [Siracusa, 2006], 25 and pl. 3).

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Title Vizir, ṯ¡ty [73] Sole friend, smr wʿty [74] Eldest son of the king, s¡-n(y)-sw.t   smsw [75] General in chief, (j)m(y)-r(¡) mšʿ   wr [76] Dispatch Scribe, sš šʿ.t [78] Head of the chamber, ʿ¡ n(y) ʿ.t [79] First herald, wḥ mw tpy [80] Works manager, jrw k¡.t [81–82] Dir. of chamberlains, (j)m(y)-r(¡) jmy.   w-ḫ nt [83] Office manager, ʿ¡ n(y) ḫ ¡ [84]

Attribution Head of civil administration Head of advisers Heir presumptive Chief of the army Head of correspondence office Head of personnel office Head of spokesmen Head of royal works Head of the king’s household Head of administrative office

­ ierarchical stages the principal ranks of the civil administration, the h army [86–112], and the royal administration, with irregular alternation of members of the three categories, which somehow inevitably complicates analysis. With respect to the civil administration, the vizier [86] is followed by the department heads composing the “high council” (qnb.t ʿ¡.t), which is often equated with a “government” composed of “ministers.” However, the position of vizier is more like that of a “minister of the interior” rather than a prime minister, since diplomacy and the command of the army were not part of his portfolio. These departments can seemingly be grouped into three branches of activity: management of resources, management of worship, and management of relations with other countries (as an activity separate from diplomacy). After the vizier, the most important member of this council was the director of the Treasury [90], whose title summarizes only imperfectly his powers as manager of all the resources of the country. In addition to this official, resources management was represented in the council by the directors of more specialized administrative departments: the director of cattle [92], who had to maintain an up-to-date inventory of these animals (particularly the breeding bulls) and collect their hides;108

108  Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 25–27; cf. also Duties of the Vizier, col. 31 (Urk. IV 1115–7), in which this function is attributed to the vizier as head of administration.



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the director of the double granary [121]; and the chief of taxation of the entire country [110], whose duties included the task of preparing and supervising the harvest and its collection.109 The human and material aspects of worship were represented, respectively, by a dignitary whose title was director of the priests of Upper and Lower Egypt [100], a position that at least under Ramesses III appears to have been reserved to the first prophet of Amun, and the superior of the scribes of the institution of divine offerings [99].110 These officials were followed by individuals whose duties related to the frontiers of Egypt and the relations of Egypt with other countries. The first of them, the director of the closing of the Sea [105], was probable the head of an economic administration that can be equated with a customs agency.111 (The defense of the Delta coasts was the job of a general officer, the director of the downstream mouths [109], whom we shall discuss later.) The directors of the foreign countries of Kharu and Nubia [106] were the resident governors of the Egyptian possessions of Cana’an (Kharu) and Nubia (Kush). The second title is probably equivalent to royal son of Kush, that is, the Egyptian viceroy of Nubia, since in the document there is no more mention of this dignitary than of his three principal subordinates: the lieutenant governors of Wawat and Kush who administered Lower and Upper Nubia under his orders, and the chief of the troops of Kush, who commanded its armed forces. Envoys of the king, described later, handled the liaison between the central administration and these officials. Lastly, the head of the scribes of the mat of the High Council [112] obviously performed the office duties of this institution.

  For this official, cf., e.g., Gardiner, Wilbour II, 10.   The duties of the first of these officials must have been to manage, so to speak, a “list of benefits” awarded to the priests. While the temples enjoyed a very high level of autonomy (below, Section B), the king had supreme control over appointments to clerical positions (cf. infra, n. 166) and over the allocations of resources involved; according to the Decree of Antef V at Coptos, Cairo JE 30770 bis, l. 5–7 (Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 73–74), the resources awarded to a priest depended on his registration in the Treasury roll. 111   The position is erroneously represented, in the onomasticon, by the substitute (  jdnw) of the director of this institution. The text also mentions a subordinate of this official, the head of the guardians of the archives of the sea [113]. 109 110

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Vizier [86], head of the entire country, ḥ ry-tp n(y) t¡ r-ḏr=f [104] • Administration of resources Director of the Treasury, (j)m(y)-r(¡) pr-ḥ ḏ [90] Director of cattle, (j)m(y)-r(¡) jḥw [92] Director of the Double granary, (j)m(y)-r(¡) šnwty [121] Chief of taxation, ʿ¡ n(y) št [110] • Administration of worship Director of the priests of Upper and Lower Egypt, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ḥ m.w-nṯr n(y).w Šmʿw Mḥw [100] Superior of the scribes of the institution of divine offerings, ḥ ry sš w¡ḥ ḥtp-nṯr n nṯr.w nb.w [99]112 • Relations with foreign countries Director of the closing of the Sea, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ḫtmw n(y).w W¡ḏ-wr [105] Director of the foreign countries of Kharu, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ḫ ¡s.wt n(y).w Ḫ ¡rw [106] Director of the foreign countries of Kush, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ḫ ¡s.wt n(y).w K(¡)š [106] • Council secretary Head of the scribes of the mat of the High Council, ḥ ry sš n(y) tm¡ n(y) t¡ qnb.t ʿ¡.t [112]

The Army The Onomasticon of Amenemope seems to divide the command of the army into three branches as well: high command, command of ­services, and tactical command. It enumerates, in hierarchical order, the general in chief [87] (already mentioned as member of the king’s council); his second in command, the lieutenant general [89]; and then the general (literally, director) of the chariotry [94] and his lieutenant general [89]. The fact that the text goes to the trouble of citing, in addition to the two highest officers of the army (general in chief and general of the chariotry) the titles of their seconds in command must be explained by the fact that these two leading positions were normally reserved to sons of the king, a situation that required partnership with professional officers until they were of age to exercise their commands. Such was the case in particular under Ramesses III, whose son, the future 112   The text also cites a subordinate of this official, the ordinary scribe of the institution of divine offerings [125]. The author of the Instructions of Amenemope assumed this title, 2–3 (Lange, Weisheitsbuch des Amenemope).



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Ramesses IV, and his younger brother, Prince Amenherkhopshef II, the future Ramesses VI, actually did command forces once they attained the appropriate age.113 In addition to these individuals, the list also mentions an officer who was director of the downstream mouths [106], whom we shall place on the same level as the generals previously mentioned. In contrast to the director of the closing of the Sea, mentioned above, whom we consider a director of customs, we propose to see him as an officer responsible for the defense of the mouth of the Nile, an area that since the middle of the Eighteenth Dynasty had often been the victim of inopportune visits by Aegean pirates. Joining these various officers were the scribe of troops [88], the scribe of rations [107], and the scribe of conscription [108]. These three definitely represented the general staff, divided into three main services: troops, administration, and recruitment. Concerning the latter point, it is known that the Egyptian armies of the New Kingdom were composed of a steadily growing number of former prisoners of war. The pharaoh probably hoped in this way to avoid conscription of an equal number of native-born Egyptians. Ramesses III was thus able to boast of having ordered a specific measure abolishing the custom of recruiting one-tenth of the temple personnel for the army.114 Considered to be a public service acting on behalf of the general interest, the army enjoyed certain privileges, such as the right to commandeer hides and the right to require right of pasture for its horses.115  The rest of the list enumerates the titles of three subaltern officers, undoubtedly included in the army command as representative leaders of groups of specialists composed of their similarly ranked colleagues the chariot driver [96], the seneny officer [97], who represented the combat element of the chariot crew, and the standard-bearer [98], the title borne generically by most of the heads of units below the level of the “divisions,” which were commanded by generals. Next to the superior officers, in charge of strategy, they were probably specialists in military tactics within the high command.   KRI V 114, 14; 214, 4; 372, 15–373, 8; 412–414.   P. Harris I, 57,8–9. For the use of former prisoners of war as soldiers, cf. P. Harris I, 76,8–9; 77,5–6; P. Wilbour, passim (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 79–82). 115   The right to collect hides, in reasonable proportions, could easily turn into an abuse. Horemheb had to regulate such activities: Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 23–27. The right of pasture was likewise a frequent source of conflict; cf. Gardiner, Wilbour II, 77–78. 113 114

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• High command General, (j)m(y)-r(¡) mšʿ [87] Lieutenant general, jdnw n(y) p¡ (j)m(y)-r(¡) mšʿ [89] General of the chariotry, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ssm.t [94] Lieutenant general of the chariotry, jdnw tj-n(y).t-ḥt{r}j [95] Director of downstream mouths, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ḥ ¡wty n(y).w pḥww [109] • Command of services Scribe of troops, sš mnfy.t [88] Scribe of rations, sš dnj [107] Scribe of conscription, sš sḥwy [108] • Tactical command Chariot driver, kṯn [96] Senneny officer, snny [97] Flag-bearer, ṯ¡y-sry.t [98]

The Royal Administration Lastly, the Onomasticon of Amenemope lists officials composing what we shall call, for lack of a better word, the “royal administration,” in order to distinguish it from the “civil” administration, although its head was again the vizier, called in this position these superior of the secrets of the palace [103].116 The titles borne by the officials point toward a division of this administration into three branches, which we shall call, respectively, “king’s house,” “royal domain,” and “private service.” The first branch, managed by the director of the king’s house [93], was apparently an administration established to facilitate the king’s discharge of his duties providing him and the court with every material support.117 Analogous “sub-domains” were devoted to the maintenance of the queen(s) and the princes(ses), who had the use of residences (called “harems”) in various locations in Egypt, and the

116  It was in this capacity that the vizier directed, in the name of the king, the Deir el-Medina institution, which was entrusted with the task of excavating and decorating the tombs of the reigning family. 117   References to “residences” (s.wt) and to “Pharaoh domains (pry.wt)” in the Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 15 et 31–33; Pharaoh Fields, in P. Wilbour, §86, 156, 242; Royal Residence of Natho, Ibid., §77, Houses of the Queens, Ibid., §109, 153, 276 (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18). The service of the king justified numerous extortions from ordinary individuals; cf. Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 13–16, 21–23, 31–34.



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“escort harem,” which organized and accompanied their movements.118 The house of the king also included a ritualist of Horus [114], whose function may have been that of a priest (the usual meaning of the Egyptian term translated as “ritualist”), or that of a master of ceremonies, and a scribe of the House of Life [115], that is, the manager of what appears to have been both a library and an academy of scholars (in the Alexandrian meaning of the term). Consultation with such people and perusal of the archives could serve to enlighten the king on the decisions to be taken.119 The royal domain was directed by a chief steward of the lord of the Two Lands [124]. The sources tend to show that this institution was not designed for expansion, inasmuch as its principal function appears to have been to serve as a pro tempore legal custodian for property deemed to be res nullius: lands lacking heirs or newly brought under cultivation (edges of the desert, alluvial “islands” recently appeared in the river) as well as war booty (land, prisoners, and livestock). The property collected was destined to be awarded as soon as possible to other beneficiaries, such as the divine domains or meritorious officers whom the king wished to reward.120 In this connection, the senior administrative agents of His Majesty [102] were multi-task officials, sent to assume the temporary administrative tasks required for the management of these properties. In addition to these officials, the job of the king’s envoys to every foreign country [91] was to serve as liaison

118   Harem of Memphis, Ibid., §38, 110, 277 (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18), and KRI V 269, 8–12; Miwer Harem, Ibid., §39, 111, 278–279 (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18; it also had its own landing stage, §37) and RAD, 15–35. For the escort Harem, cf. supra, n. 68. Here again, the king’s travels could generate various attempts at extortion and conflicts with local authorities on the part of the people who catered to their needs; cf. Decree of Horemheb, principal face, l. 27–31. 119   Thus Sety I based his intention to establish a festival for the Nile at Gebel elSilsila on his knowledge of the various stages of the inundation: “I know what is in the archives, and what is preserved in the library,” KRI I 88, 14 and 16. We are here concerned with the House of Life attached to the monarchical institution, the function of which can perhaps be compared, mutatis mutandis, to the function assigned by the Founding Fathers of the United States to the Library of Congress. The major temples also had their Houses of Life, which sometimes specialized in a single branch of knowledge; cf. the classic article by Gardiner, JEA 24 (1938), 157–179. 120   The lands reverting to the crown and temporarily exploited before being allocated to new tenants are the khato lands, P. Wilbour, A, §45–50, 113–116, 201–207 and Text B in its entirety; cf. Gardiner, Wilbour II, 59, 76 and 209–210. The exact function of another category of royal lands, the mine, id., §40–43, 198–200 (Gardiner, Wilbour II, p. 18), is still uncertain.

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between the king and the managers of the foreign possessions of Egypt (the directors of the foreign countries, whom we met earlier). Lastly, the king had his own private service, whose departments were directed, in order of increasing intimacy, by the chief of the house of the sovereign [111], followed by the director of the private apartments [123]. A ritualist of the royal couch [116] performed specifically for the king the same functions of priest or manager of etiquette that the ritualist of Horus performed for the court (see above). The royal cup-bearers [122],121 the last category on this list, deserve a separate discussion. As demonstrated by numerous examples in other civilizations and other periods of history (for example, the freed slaves of the Roman emperors), the royal cup-bearers, because of their daily contact with the king, ultimately became his confidants, to the point of acquiring, during the Ramesside era, and despite their modest title, the status of genuine missi dominici: personal emissaries of the king, assigned to perform specific or difficult missions and to represent him in any situation in which he judged representation to be necessary. Their names show that they were often of Near Eastern origin, which gave them both a knowledge of foreign languages (which qualified them for certain missions) and the advantage of being in theory indifferent to considerations of local politics of the places to which they were sent on mission.122 Vizier [86], superior of the secrets of the palace, ḥ ry sšt¡ n(y) pr-n(y)-sw.t [103] • King’s house Director of the King’s house, (j)m(y)-r(¡) pr-n(y)-sw.t [93] Ritualist of Horus, ẖry-ḥ b.t m (pour n(y)) Ḥ r [114] Scribe of the house of life, sš pr ʿnḫ [115] • Royal Domain Chief steward of the lord of the Two Lands (j)m(y)-r(¡) pr wr n(y) Nb T¡.wy [124] High administrative agents of His Majesty, n¡ rwḏ.w ʿ¡.w n(y) ḥ m=f [102] King’s envoys to every foreign country, wpwty-n(y)-sw.t r ḫ ¡s.t nb [91]

  The text mentions the title in the singular, with a generic meaning.  Summary by J. Màlek, JEA 74 (1988), 134–136. They form, for example, 5 of the 12 members of the committee appointed to judge the parties guilty of the harem conspiracy at the end of the reign of Ramesses III; P. judiciaire of Turin, 1,9–2,4, KRI V 350,11–16. This body also included a herald. 121 122



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• Private Service chief of the house of the sovereign, ʿ¡ n(y) pr n(y) ḥ q¡ [111] Director of the private apartments, (j)m(y)-r(¡) ʿ-ẖnwty [123] Ritualist of the royal couch, ẖry-ḥ b.t mn.t-bjt [116] Royal cup-bearer, wdpw n(y)-sw.t [122]

In the Egyptian texts, the government, in the broad sense of the term, is sometimes still designated, in the Ramesside era, by the archaic expression “council of thirty” (mʿb¡y.t).123 If we exclude the army (represented in the council of government by its general in chief), and count the vizier only once, since he headed each of its components, we find that the administrative system described above was composed of exactly thirty persons divided into three groups of ten: council of government, civil and royal administrations. The current state of our knowledge does not allow us to determine if this remarkable coincidence is the result of chance or of necessity, but unqualified implication of chance seems difficult to accept.124 The Office of the Vizier All the competences and all the areas of action of the Egyptian administration were concentrated in the position of the vizier, since, as we have seen above, the holder of this office held the positions of chairman of the council of government, head of the civil administration, and head of the royal administration. Given his importance and the specificity of the sources that describe the position, we shall discuss it here in particular detail.

123   For example, under Ramesses III, at Medinet Habu: KRI V 23,14; 113,12; 400, 15; 412, 2. Another reference exists in the Instructions of Amenemope, 20,18 (Lange, Weisheitsbuch des Amenemope). The Admonitions of Ipuwer invoke the protocol of the Council of Thirty (sšmw . . . mʿb¡y.t), P. Leiden I 344 r°, 6,11 (Enmarch, Dialogue of Ipuwer). 124   There are numerous allusions in Egyptian documentation to decemviral administrative panels. In addition to the “Ten Great Ones of Upper Egypt” (Wb I, 329,13), also attested to in the Duties of the Vizier, col. 1 (Urk. IV 1104, 2), there is the qenbet of the temple of Assiut at the time of Senusret I (Contracts of Assiut, 283, Montet, Kemi 3 [1930–1935], 54–55), and the various councils of government antedating the Middle Kingdom: the Great Council (ḏ¡ḏ¡.t wr.t), House of Life (ḥ w.t-ʿnḫ ), chamber of Horus (sḫ Ḥ r); cf. J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Ægyptiaca Leodiensia 4; Liège, 1997), esp. 132–140, 140–145 and 129–132.

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On the theoretical level, various metaphors are used in these sources to describe the vizier as first deputy to the sovereign and his first executive agent. Thus, in the Book of the Heavenly Cow, which explains its mythical institution,125 the office of the vizier appears as a reflection of the royal power, just as the moon is a reflection of the sun: having risen into the sky to punish humans for their sin against his authority, but persisting nevertheless in his will to act for their sake, Re (the Sun) appointed Thot (the Moon), to be his lieutenant (sty) on earth and the first vizier. In the biography of Rekhmire, another metaphor, made all the more appropriate by the fact that ancient Egypt was a river civilization, makes the vizier the “captain” (nfw) of the Ship of State, relieving the king of the task of steering it.126 More subtly, four hundred years before the Ramessid era, in the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant, another nautical metaphor, of matchless pertinence, made the “chief steward” (who in this text is clearly substituted to the vizier) not the captain but rather the helmsman of the Ship of State: “The king is in the forward cabin, but the rudder (of government) is in your hands” (Peasant, B1 158). The richness of the metaphor only becomes apparent when compared with the reality out of which it is constructed: unable, because of his position at the stern of the vessel, to clearly see the route he had to follow, the vizier-helmsman was compelled to steer his rudder by blindly following the hand-signals addressed to him by the pilot-king standing at the bow. In other words: the king orders, the vizier executes. On a less symbolic level, the office of the vizier is particularly well documented thanks to two texts, known respectively as “The instructions to the Vizier” and “The duties of the Vizier,” the principal versions of which appear in the tomb of Rekhmire (TT 100), vizier of Upper Egypt in the time of Thutmose III, and a line of similarly ranked dignitaries going back to the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty.127   Book of the Heavenly Cow, Sety I, 62–74.   Urk. IV 1076, 17–1077, 3, and corr., 116–117. Note the famous post-pharaonic use of the same metaphor by Plato, The Republic, VI 488–489. 127  Instructions to the Vizier: No. of G. Davies, The Tomb of Rekh-mi-rê at Thebes, vol. II (PMMAEE XI; New York, 1943), pl. XXVI–XXVII (Urk. IV 1086–1093), R.O. Faulkner, “The Installation of the Vizier,” JEA 41 (1955), 18–29. Duties of the Vizier, Davies, pl. XXVII–XXVIII (Urk. IV 1103, 14–1117, 5). Synoptic edition (including the versions of these texts from the tomb of his uncle, the vizier Ouser), Ibid., pl. CXIX–CXXII. Principal study: G.P.F. Van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier. Civil Administration in the Early New Kingdom, Studies in Egyptology (London-New York, 1988). More recently, St. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC (Golden House Publications, Egyptology 1; London, 2004), 18–23. 125 126



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The first of these texts is considered to be a transcription of the speech the king to the vizier at the time of his appointment. The sovereign details the general principles that must guide his action: 1) the vizier is responsible only to his master, whose directives he must apply, without concern for his personal popularity; 2) he must consider all the petitions submitted to him, and in the case he denies them explain the grounds thereof; 3) his decisions must be taken with complete impartiality, by simple mechanical application of the law; 4) however, he must perform his duties with kindness, aware that he is acting under the eyes of public opinion, and that excessive severity would lessen the exemplary nature of his decisions; 5) lastly, he must pay particular attention to the management of agricultural lands, commissioning if necessary land surveys to this effect. The “Duties of the Vizier” is an invaluable document, since it appears for its part to be a transcription of the official regulations governing the discharge of his duties. The king gave the vizier a copy of the document at the end of the inaugural speech described above. It is a longer and more complex text than the “Instructions to the Vizier,” and its understanding is somehow complicated by the fact that its last section has been almost completely lost. However, it has the invaluable advantage of causing us to move from theory to the level of administrative practice. The text begins with describing the etiquette of the meetings at which the civil servants appeared before the vizier, whether because he had summoned them, or because they were compelled by their position to periodically report to him on their management, such as the provincial governors and their subordinates, who were required to do so once every four months. This protocol was designed to demonstrate, by its pomp, the full majesty of the royal authority of whom the vizier was the representative. Seated in an armchair, flanked by his chief officers and his scribes, he held court in a vast colonnaded hall, seated while all other parties were standing, holding the scepter of command and wearing the insignia of his position, while guards forced the summoned officials to prostrate themselves before him. Another indicator of his power was his being provided, for the despatch of his messages and summonses, a special corps of emissaries (wpwty.w), who, as per regulations, had to be shown the same marks of respect as the vizier himself. When dispatched to any official, the recipient was thus required, under pain of severe penalties, to meet with them as soon as they presented themselves at his office or his residence. The said official was not rightfully allowed to keep them waiting or to require

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of them the slightest sign of respect, but had to hear immediately and without discussion the messages they carried. A careful reading of this text indicates that the vizier appears to have been invested with two essential duties: on the one hand, to manage and ensure the peace and security of the royal residence, its persons, and its properties; on the other hand, to manage the civil administration. The first duty implied, first, supervision of the opening and closing of all the exterior and interior doors of the vast complex of the royal residence, its offices, and its storehouses, by putting on them seals in the evening after closing, and breaking them each morning after verification of their integrity, and, secondly, the monitoring of all traffic entering and leaving his jurisdiction. At the same time, the vizier was responsible for the guards and police of the palace, and for organizing the king’s escort when he traveled. He even had the power, in this one instance, to issue instructions to the military leaders who had to supply detachments for this purpose. In addition, he was responsible for all communications between the royal palace and the outside world (except in the case of communications with foreign countries, for which ad hoc personnel existed). In this capacity, he supervised the dispatch of the king’s messages or orders to the various administrations of the country. In this area of activity he had, lastly and more specifically, the responsibility of promulgating laws and decrees under his seal. In his position as head of the government, the vizier’s first task was to report each morning to the king on the state of the country, even before opening the doors of the residence. (This warrants the supposition that the administrative offices able to prepare such reports worked day and night.)128 This daily briefing was followed immediately by a report to the vizier by the official responsible for the seals (jm(y)-r(¡) ḫ tm.t),129 who—ideally—confirmed that he had not noted any attempt to breach the doors and buildings of the residence sealed for the night on the preceding evening. Once his activity had been approved, this officer was ordered to have the doors opened for the day.

128   This may explain the well-known stereotype of the manager working “night and day” for the good of the service. Rekhmire said: “I was the king’s captain, and I knew not slumber, day or night,” Urk. IV 1076, 17–1077, 1, and corr., 116–117. 129   The traditional interpretation that holds that this official might be the “director of the Treasury” designated everywhere else by the title (j)m(y)-r(¡) pr-ḥ ḏ is completely unsuitable in this context, and we therefore feel that it is a complete mistranslation.



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The vizier was also the head of the administration. His competences in this domain were unlimited, since it was he who appointed all officials to their positions and decided on their promotion, keeping their personnel files in the archives of his office, known as the “great closed chamber” (ḫ nr.t wr.t),130 and awarding them with lands and revenues whose produce served them, in the absence of any monetary system, as salary and representation allowance. Except in special cases, these officials, like the vizier himself, exercised a permanent delegation of power that defined their duties and sufficed for assignment of their tasks without any further instruction on his part (except, perhaps, for the scheduling of deadlines). Thus he supervised their activity only by applying the principle of post eventum control: the principal officials and their subordinates were required to report to him on their activity only at the start of each four-month period, as we said, but they were then required to submit to him complete evidentiary documentation. The vizier also had judicial powers. As we already said, he reviewed petitions presented to the king, provided that they were reviewed in writing. He also ruled on requests addressed to him directly, particularly in cases of conflict between individuals or communities and the administration. Lastly, he constituted an appellate jurisdiction second only to that of the king. He had to confirm certain judgments handed down by the courts—except for the death penalty, whose confirmation exclusively rested with the king131—and had to keep a copy of every judgment in the “great closed chamber” (ḫ nr.t wr.t) in which his archives were stored. Lastly, as head of administration, the vizier was the sole disciplinary instance of this body of officials (his subordinates were specifically forbidden to judge their own subordinates). He summoned officials in dispute with one another, officials against whom a complaint had been filed, and officials whose management had been reported for irregularity, at hearings specially held for this purpose. At these hearings he sent for the personnel files of the officials involved and reports of any disciplinary measures that had been taken against them. In such situations he could also require any administration to produce any document, which had to be delivered to him with the seal of its originating office, to which it was returned after consultation,

130   This institution is mentioned in P. Leiden I 344 r°, 6,12 (Enmarch, Dialogue of Ipuwer). The laws were also preserved there (above, n. 74). 131   For these two points, cf. above, n. 78 and 88.

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bearing his personal seal. An interesting procedure distinguished ordinary documents, which were brought to him by the archivists of the concerned office, from documents deemed confidential, which had to be requested specifically by his emissaries. This difference in treatment was obviously intended to prevent the tampering of documents during their transfer from their custodial administration to the office of the vizier. However, even this procedure was sometimes insufficient, as we learn, under Ramesses II, from the records of Mose’s famous lawsuit against Khay, in which documentary evidence had been directly altered by corrupt officials in the archives of ministerial departments.132 Egyptian administrative sources do not leave the slightest doubt that one of the principal tasks, if not the principal task, of Egyptian officials was to organize the production, collection, and redistribution of resources, the most important among them being, naturally, agricultural resources. It is rather surprising to note that, in contrast, management of individuals is merely mentioned. While the text of the Decree of Horemheb, already mentioned, and the archives of Deir el-Medina show that, in this regard, a large amount of freedom was left to local communities, provided that this did not affect their work, the situation is probably to be explained by our sources being incomplete. We lack Ramesside-era documents, such as P. Brooklyn 35.1446, which would allow us to form a satisfactory idea of forced-labor performance of community agricultural infrastructure projects during the Middle Kingdom, such as the restoration of dikes and irrigation channels. However, this system must have remained in use, since it met a continued need.133 And while we no longer possess any trace of the 132   Chapel of Mose, N 6–16 (ed. G.A. Gaballa, The Memphite Tomb-Chapel of Mose [Warminster, 1977]), KRI III 426–428. 133   Note, however, the mention of the opening in the alluvial banks by the district councillors, upon orders by the vizier, of the water intakes allowing the Nile inundation to flood the surrounding country, according to The Duties of the Vizier, col. 24–25 (Urk. IV 1113,4). Note also the reference under Ramesses V or VI, in the region of Qau el-Kebir, according to P. Amiens, r° 5, 3 (RAD, 7, 10–11, Jac. J. Janssen, Grain Transport in the Ramessid Period, Papyrus baldwin (BM EA 10061) and Papyrus Amiens [HPBM VIII; London, 2004], 25 and pl. 10), of an “Agricultural estate of the Domain of Amonrasonther, which the king Usermaatre Meryimen (Ramesses III) founded by means of people who were brought there because of their crimes,” which evokes irresistibly the labor camps holding persons condemned to forced labor because of anachoresis toward the end of the Middle Kingdom, according to the testimony of P. Brooklyn 35.1446 (Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom, 35–42). The



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“office of the supplier of personnel” (ḫ ¡ n(y) dd(w) rmṯ) that managed it at that time, obviously it could not have been implemented without the establishment of lists of names of the inhabitants of the country; lists inevitably subject to periodic revisions to take marriages, births, and deaths into account. In addition to the Middle Kingdom examples known to us from the Kahun documentation,134 there are a few literary allusions to such lists during the New Kingdom,135 as well as the list of houses on the left bank of Thebes listed on the reverse of P. BM 10068136 and the census of Deir el-Medina (known as the Stato civile) preserved in the Turin Museum.137 The “economic” responsibility of the administration affected the competences of the vizier in numerous ways.138 First, he was the guarantor of the country’s land organization. As such, he supervised and preserved in his office the complete land register of Egypt (the inscription pertaining to the Mose case attests to the preservation of similar registers in the Treasury and the Double Granary departments),139 which he had to keep continually updated. For this purpose, he had to be informed of any transfer of property (jmy.t-pr) and had to approve it through an intermediary agent, in this case the reporters (wḥ mw), whom we shall discuss below. A document like P. Wilbour was obviously a register established, for the purposes of grain collection, according to a nominative list of land holders. In this connection, the vizier also arbitrated land disputes, including those involving individuals against the administration; he had the power to compel

Decree of Horemheb contains at least two references to the requisition of persons in the State’s employ for various forced labor assignments (principal face, l. 21–23, right face, col. 1–2). An exemption decree like the Decree of Nauri (Griffith, JEA 13 [1927], 193–208) is aimed precisely at protecting temple personnel from such requisitions. 134   Griffith, The Petrie Papyri, pl. IX–XI; M. Collier & St. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical (BAR-IS 1209; Oxford, 2006), P. UC 32164–32166, pp. 110–117; cf. Kemp, Ancient Egypt, 220–221. 135  According to P. Leiden I 344 r°, 6,7 (Enmarch, Dialogue of Ipuwer), the administration preserved censuses distinguishing individuals by their social status. 136   KRI VI 747–755. 137   R.J. Demarée & D. Valbelle, Les registres de recensement du village de Deir elMédineh (Le “Stato Civile”)(Leuven-Paris, 2011). 138   The responsibilities of the administration with respect to cultivable lands are summarized perfectly in the Teaching of Amenemope, 1,13–2,12 (Lange, Weisheitsbuch des Amenemope): collection of grains, demarcation of lands, preservation of the land register. 139  Inscription of Mose, N 7 (KRI III 426, 7–8), N 14–16 (KRI III 428, 3–15).

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the parties and the administrators concerned to appear before him. An explicit provision compelled him, in this regard, to rule within three days on disputes concerning land close to his administrative headquarters, but within three months for land situated at a greater distance. Let us add that mere performance of his tasks caused in and of itself a modification of the land register, inasmuch as he allocated to (or took away from) officials and the local councils the lands whose products constituted their stipend. His role in the exploitation of resources also meant that he had to be informed as quickly as possible of the start of the Nile flood, that marked the beginning of the agricultural year, and to issue orders to the provincial officials known as land advisers (qnbty n(y) w) to open, in the alluvial slopes along the riverbanks, the water intakes that allowed the river to flood the countryside. Once the waters receded, he arranged the supervision of the ploughing and harvesting by the governors of the cities (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) and the heads of the villages (ḥ q¡-ḥ w.t). He sent officials known as scribes of the mat, seconded by detachments of soldiers, into the countryside to inspect the harvests and collect from them the government’s share.140 In areas of agricultural activity rendered all the more interesting by the fact that they are less frequently evoked by other sources, he also supervised the felling of trees (a rare resource in Egypt) and maintained an up-to-date inventory of bulls (for the obvious purpose of evaluating in advance the renewal of livestock). The duties of the vizier were not limited to management of the agricultural resources of Egypt. He also managed crafts production (at least the production that fell under the responsibility of the State) as well as the numerous “presents” (tributes and diplomatic gifts) from other countries. Management of production naturally led to management of the distribution of the products collected, since he managed offerings and in general allocated any asset to anyone who needed it for the performance of his duties. However, his principal task and that of the Egyptian administration as a whole was to implement, in the name of the king, who bore for it ultimate responsibility, an economic system of redistribution supposed to actually ensure the material wellbeing of the population as a whole. 140   Note their mention in P. Leiden I 344 r°, 6,8–9 (Enmarch, Dialogue of Ipuwer); for the title, in general, cf. B. Haring, “The Scribe of the Mat, From Agrarian Administration to Local Justice,” in: Deir el-Medina in the Third Millenium AD, A Tribute to Jac. J. Janssen, R.J. Demarée & A. Egberts, eds. (EgUit 14; Leiden, 2000), 129–158.



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While labelled as “economic”, the only economic aspect of such a system is in its name, at least in the modern sense of the term, since it excluded in particular the idea that profit could be a driver of economic activity, that the individual, in his “egotistical” search for profit, exercised in a “market,” could be one of its essential players, and that money could play a determining role in this search, in being itself a commodity for trade.141 It represents in reality a system of political and administrative organization in which the State, sole and ultimate owner of all the resources of the country (its « propriétaire éminent » in ancient french legal terminology), bears the right to collect, physically or legally, all the output of these resources in order to redistribute it in equitable portions to all members of the society according to their needs, after deduction of what is deemed necessary for the financing of community services (administration, army, etc.) [Fig. 6a]. In particular, this system presupposes an ideal world in which all the members of the society would agree to subordinate their individual interests to the general one (that is, to receive from the system, if necessary, less than they contribute to it, and as a matter of principle to refrain from requiring more than their due), when all of historical experience shows that when placed in such a situation, the human being almost always spontaneously adopts the opposite attitude. Wherever it has been put into operation (from ancient Egypt to the defunct “Socialist” bloc), these systems are thus afflicted with a structural shortfall that has to be moderated by the contribution of outside resources and the existence of a parallel economy, based on profit and more or less tolerated. As we have seen, the Egyptian ideology

141   Cf. chiefly K. Polanyi, “L’économie en tant que procès institutionalisé”, in: Les systèmes économiques dans l’histoire et dans la théorie, K. Polanyi & C. Arensberg, eds. (Paris, 1975), chap. 13, 239–260 (translation of Trade and Market in the Early Empires Economies in History and Theory [New York, 1957]). Another important work by the same author: La grande transformation, Aux origines politiques et économiques de notre temps (Bibliothèque des sciences humaines), Paris, 1983 (the original in English dates from 1944). An excellent elaboration of the theses of Polanyi in their application to the history of the Ancient East is M. Liverani, Prestige and Interest. International Relations in the Near East ca. 1600–1100 B.C. (History of the Ancient Near East / Studies—I), Padua, 1990. Cf. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, Vol. II, n. 229 et 266; and Jac. J., « Prolegomena to the Study of Egypt’s Economic History during the New Kingdom », SAK 3 (1975), 127–185; B.J.J. Haring, Divine Households. Administrative and Economic Aspects of the New Kingdom Royal Memorial Temples in Western Thebes (EgUit 12), Leiden, 1997, 12–17, and my remarks in this regard in CdE 77/153–154 (2002), 113–115. The Egyptians were familiar with money only as an abstract unit of value that made it possible to standardize exchanges in relation to a standard; cf. infra, p. 888.

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a

b

a

b

Pa / Cb

Ca / Pb

Figure 6a.  Theoretical redistribution. P/C = producer / consumer A/b = products of any kind (a = b)

= flow of goods (collection/redistribution) = flow of information (collection/ redistribution)

considered that this “inability” to perceive the need to sacrifice oneself temporarily for the greater good and to obey without argument the orders of the organizing authority constituted precisely humanity’s original sin. It thus constituted the principal justification for the establishment on earth of an absolute monarchy, the only type of government that can compel human beings to make this sacrifice, and the prime cause of the establishment of a tentacular administration designed to monitor and evaluate all aspects of their activities. Difficult to implement strictly because of its utopian nature, such a system was also difficult to implement for practical reasons, since it would have involved, in theory, immense tasks of collection, transportation, storage, and redistribution, as well as the incredibly complex prudential allocation of each resource to its potential consumers. It was thus more expedient to dematerialize, to the utmost possible extent, the flows of goods that it would have had to handle. For example, by leaving a portion of his output with a peasant, the Egyptian government achieved both the collection of his product and the redistribution of the share that was due to him. Similarly, by establishing regulations requiring direct exchanges of goods between producers and consumers who were geographically close [Figs. 6b and 6c], the government avoided the task of collecting and redistributing them.



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KING

a

b

a

b

b a

Pa / Cb

Ca / Pb

Figure 6b.  Partial dematerialization.

KING

a

Pa / Cb

b

a

b

b a

Ca / Pb

Figure 6c.  Full dematerialization. Dematerialization of redistribution (see captions in preceding figure)

While it made the implementation of the redistribution system easier, this dematerialization was a source of additional administrative complexity, since the dematerialized flows of goods had to be replaced with accounting entries. Since this could be a case of the cure being worse than the disease, the Egyptians quickly realized that the only real way of simplifying this system was to delegate its operations to social and economic institutions charged with implementing it within their proper bounds. The more important of such institutions were the

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divine domains, which we shall discuss at length below when dealing with the indirect administration. The Local Administration Less well known than the central administration, the local administration is represented only in the onomastica by the governors of the cities and villages [101] (which is to be understood as the governors of the cities and the governors of the villages). Various other sources, such as the text of the Duties of the Vizier or its accompanying scenes in the tomb of Rekhmire nevertheless allow us to fill in to some extent this schematic picture, despite the frequent use of an archaic terminology.142 As in all the other eras of the country’s history, Egypt was divided in the New Kingdom into a number of administrative districts that we shall call “provinces,” in order to avoid the anachronism of the Greek administrative term “nome.” According to the traditional lists, there were 22 such provinces for Upper Egypt and 20 for Lower Egypt (although during the New Kingdom, these figures certainly no longer represented the institutional reality), and they formed the essential framework of its local administration. According to our sources, each province was directed by the governor (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) of its capital city.143 A direct subordinate of the vizier, this official presided over his own government council, designated, in the Duties of the Vizier, by the archaic expression council of the mat (ḏ¡ḏ¡.t n(y).t tm¡), and for which the scribes of the mat (sš n(y) tm¡)144 provided office services. After the governor, the most important members of this council were the reporter (wḥ mw) and the land adviser, (qnbty n(y) w), both department heads provided with an office staff. The land adviser appears to have been the provincial administrator responsible for the management of the agricultural resources. As for the reporter, the sources of the Middle Kingdom and the Second Intermediate Period145 allow us to deduce that he assumed the function of a kind of provincial notary responsible for the recording and   Cf. chiefly Van den Boorn, The duties of the Vizier, 325–329.   The ancient titles of “nomarch”, as in ḥ r(y)-tp ʿ¡, had long fell into discuse by the time of the New Kingdom. 144   For this title, cf. above, n. 140. 145   Papyrus of Kahun, Griffith, Hieratic Papyri, pl. XII, Collier & Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Religious, Literary, Legal, Mathematical and Medical, 104–105 [P. UC 32058]; 122–123 [P. UC 32293]; P. Berlin 10470, Smither, JEA 34 (1948), 31–34, pl. VII–VIII (Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 50–54, n° 69); Juridical Stela of Karnak (Legrain, Stèle juridique). 142 143



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approval of transfers of property (which involved the sending of the original deeds to the vizier, the local preservation of copies of these documents, and the preparations of supplementary copies for all parties concerned). Junior reporters assigned to the secondary cities of the provinces were subordinate to him. In ordinary villages, where the performance of such functions could be combined with other tasks, a scribe could replace him, as at Deir el-Medina, in which this was clearly one of the powers of the incumbent scribe. The governor’s council also included the heads of the secondary urban centers of the province, also called governors (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ)146 and the land directors (jm(y)-r(¡) ¡ḥ .t), who assumed at this level the functions of the land advisers. B.  Indirect Government Action The Foundations In contrast to direct government action, carried out by means of delegation by the king of his administrative powers to officials who were regarded as extensions of himself (his “eyes,” his “ears,” and his “hands”), the sovereign was able to grant all his royal powers over a portion of the territory, the population, and the resources of Egypt to institutions specifically founded to perform worship, whether divine or funerary, while retaining the right to eminent domain. Reduced to its fundamental characteristics, an institution of this type which we shall call a “foundation” (but which was possibly generically designated in Egyptian by the term pr, “house,” “domain”)147 consisted in a wealth of resources and persons gathered around a cultural center (a temple, a statue, or a tomb), and endowed with a collective identity expressed by a name (e.g., “Domain of Amun”). This group was established on the initiative of or with the approval of the king, to form an inalienable estate, established in perpetuity as a self-governing authority under the control and protection of the State, and was exempt, to varying extents, from the rules of customary law.148 Its purpose, its operation, and its organization were specified by an organic charter.

  The Duties of the Vizier, col. 11 (Urk. IV 1108,5), 22 (Urk. IV 1112,3), 25 (Urk. IV 1113,5 et 7), 32 (Urk. IV 1115,12), use the archaic title ḥ q¡-ḥ w.t, “head of village”. 147   P. Grandet, “L’Égypte, comme institution, à l’époque Ramesside,” DE 8 (1987), 77–92. 148   Complete list of exemptions in favor of the temple of Sety I in Abydos in the Decree of Nauri, KRI II 45–58, Exemption from conscription by one-tenths of the personnel of the temples, P. Harris I, 47,8–9. 146

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It assigned managers, administered its proceeds as usufructuaries and were accountable only to the founder. Recourse to this type of organization, attested to in the Nile Valley from the beginning of history, was based chiefly on economic reasons. While it had worked out a complex system of value units that made it possible to estimate goods and services and in this way allow their exchange, Egyptian civilization never used fixed currency guaranteed by the State that could have served as value reserve and could, as such, have dissociated the financing of human activities from the immediate present and their material basis. These activities thus had to be financed by allocation of resources in kind, and if the said activities had an institutional character, these allocations had to be regular, perpetual, established according to legal forms, and protected, by the rigors of the law, from the vicissitudes that could affect them. In the framework of the Egyptian civilization, and while we have earlier emphasized the religious institutions, this method of organization was “universal,” insofar as the maintenance of the king, queen, princes, the court, officials, clergy, craftspersons, soldiers, and more generally any person who did not produce foodstuffs to feed himself had to be supported by institutions of this type. The same was true of the public services, government agencies, worship cults of the gods and the deceased, and the various branches of central government administrations, temples, and local governments, among others.149 However, while their method of organization was in this sense “universal,” these institutions had various degrees of independence and autonomy that allow us to classify them in four specific groups. 1. At the highest level, Egypt itself, the only such institution that could be considered independent, was regarded as an institution of this kind: the supreme institution, containing all the others, established by the Creator, and governed by the king.

149   To the examples mentioned above, n. 69 (the Pharaoh’s landing places), 99 (remuneration of a governor) and 117–118 (domains of the members of the royal family, harems), we can add, inter alia, the existence of a domain cultivated by Shardanes to produce the pay for the army scribes, P. Amiens, r° 5, 4 (RAD, 7, 12–13, Janssen, Grain Transport), domains used to produce food for the temple animals, P. Wilbour A, §31–32, 104–107, 175, 181–195, 243–247, or to finance a service for transporting donkeys to the Northern Oasis, organized by the Treasury, P. Wilbour A §196–197. Interesting example, a contrario, of a thieving priest, condemned to the loss of all his means of existence: Decree of Coptos of Antef V, Cairo JE 30770 bis, l. 5–7 (Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 73–74).



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2. On the second level were institutions devoted to the worship of the principal divinities of the country (for instance, the Domain of Amun), the essence of which was that they enjoyed, after the State, the highest possible degree of autonomy.150 Hierarchically, their leaders were thus in theory on the same level as the vizier, since there was no intermediate level of authority between themselves and the sovereign. Thus, the Onomasticon of Amenemope only mentions the high priests of Amun of Thebes, Re of Heliopolis, and Ptah of Memphis as religious dignitaries being on a par with the State’s principal officers.151 3. At the third level, were institutions devoted to a secondary cult, divine or funerary. They enjoyed autonomy, but within another institution, itself autonomous, and entrusted with the task to serve them legally as guarantor and protector. Ramesses III thus placed under the protection of Amun of Thebes both his burial temple at Medinet Habu,152 which probably managed at least one-twentieth of the population of Egypt and one-fifteenth of its useful area,153 and the approximately 3,000 institutions created under his reign, in the countryside, for the worship of royal or divine statues, and

150  In the Ramesside era there obviously existed an official classification of the cults in hierarchical order: cult of Amon of Thebes, cult of Re of Heliopolis and of Ptah of Memphis (“The Ramesside trinity”, supra, Fig. 2); cults of the major provincial divinities; cults of secondary divinities. Such classification fits the order of the different sections of P. Harris I or the classification of the agricultural domains in the Wilbour Papyrus and in similar documents; cf. Gardiner, Wilbour II, 10–11, Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. II, n. 761. 151   Onomasticon of Amenemope, Nos. 117–120 (Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica). This list includes four titles: the first prophet of Amun in Thebes, ḥ m-nṯr tpy n(y) Jmn m W¡s.t [117] (or high priest of Amun), the leader of the seers of Re-Atun, wr-m¡w n(y) Rʿ-Jtm [118] (the high priest of Re), the leader of the artisans of He who is at the south of his wall, wr ḫ rp ḥ mw.t n(y) Rsy-jnb=f [119] (the high priest of Ptah), and the setem priest of He of the comely face, stm n(y) Nfr-ḥ r [120] (an administrator generally associated with the former in a kind of bicephalous direction, specific to the clergy of Memphis). 152   “I established his properties by documents squeezed in your fist,” KRI V 117, 11–12. 153   Calculations based on the following lines of reasoning: (1) Medinet Habu’s initial allocation of personnel: 64,480 men (150 priests, 62,626 peasants, 1,084 shepherds, and 770 workers, P. Harris I, 10,1–11,1 and KRI V 143, 12–144, 4), rounded off to 65,000 x 4 (low hypothesis of families with one woman and two children) = 260,000 persons out of an average population estimated at 5 millions persons. (2) Initial allocation of arable land: the largest part of the 1,780 square kilometers given by Ramesses III to the Domain of Amun as a whole (P. Harris I, 11,7) 20 000 sq. km. out of a maximum of; cf. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. I, 128, n. 8.

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which employed an average of only two persons.154 At this level there could be interlocking and nesting of several institutions of the kind, each of which nevertheless retained its own identity and its own existence. Under Ramesses III, for example, the burial foundation of the Karnak works ­manager, ­Amenmose, son of Pauia, was an autonomous institution within the domain of the burial temple of Ahmes-Nefertari, on the left bank of Thebes, which in turn was an autonomous institution within the domain of Amun.155 4. Lastly, at the bottom of the ladder, were institutions that we shall classify as dependent. They served only to render a specific service to another institution (like a temple’s herd or an administrative agency) and enjoyed only enough autonomy to allow them to perform their function. It must be emphasized that in all cases the basic concept was that of autonomy, that is, self-administrative capability. When the pharaoh devoted a portion of the State’s domain to worship, this was a way of reducing, not increasing, his control; of relieving himself of management tasks by turning the actual responsibility over to others. There is not the slightest doubt that this was an invaluable advantage for the State, when we consider the complexity of the tasks involved in implementing a system of redistribution on a territory of the magnitude of ancient Egypt’s, and the inherently inefficient nature of an administrative apparatus based solely on the exchange of written information carried by messengers. Similarly, when a new institution, such as Medinet Habu, was established within a pre-existing religious domain, such as the domain of Amun, it reduced the administrative control of the existing institution by the same proportion, and relieved it in equal proportion of the need to manage its resources.156 The institutions thus created had their own administration. In extreme cases, such as the Domain of Amun, the administration was as complex as that of the State, and partly reproduced its structure.157 In all cases, however, the king retained nominal   P. Harris I, 9,4–7 and 11,1–3; 21b, 11–16; 68a, 3–68b, 3. Allusion to the countryside chapels, Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, 79, KRI II 331, 13. 155   KRI V 415–417, Frood, Biographical Texts, 185 and 187. 156   Contradiction on this point in Haring, Divine Households, 30–34, 167–168, 199– 210, 372–388, 389–392; cf. Grandet, CdE 77/153–154 (2002), 117–119. 157  Survey of the administrative organization of the Domain of Amun: Grandet, Ramsès III, 231–238; of Medinet Habu: ibid., 137–141. 154



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suzerainty over all these institutions and, through the reporting obligation of their managers, the right to review their operation and the composition of their personnel. We have seen (p. 869) that the management of their human and material components was represented, within the civil administration, by two officials, the director of the priests of Upper and Lower Egypt and the superior of the scribes of the institution of divine offerings. All the elements that we have enumerated above to define the foundations applied in particular to the principal religious institutions of the country, which because of their optimum degree of autonomy had the task of operating its indirect administration. Their establishment depended only on the will of the sovereign, empowered with the means to do so by his status as representative of god on earth and pre-eminent owner of all of Egypt. To take effect, his intention was embodied in a “decree” (wḏ.t), sometimes called an “inventory” (jmy.t-pr) or “inventory decree” (wḏ.t jmy.t-pr),158 which had to be recorded and preserved in the archives of the State and of the ­institutions concerned. While no actual New Kingdom document of this type has come down to us,159 secondary sources allow us to infer that they contained a list of resources granted to the proposed foun­ dation (jmy.t-pr strictly speaking),160 the body of regulations governing  Declarations by Ramesses III to the gods of Egypt: “I promulgated decrees (wḏ. wt) intended to organize them on earth, for the benefit of the kings who will succeed me,” P. Harris I, 57,9. “I organized your temples by means of major decrees, preserved in each archives office (ḫ ¡ nb n(y) sš.w) and concerning their people, their lands, and their herds, (as well as) their menesh and ahau boats (made to travel) on the river,” P. Harris I, 57,6. Reference versions of the donation decrees (wḏ.wt jmy.t-pr) could be engraved on metal tablets: P. Harris I, 6,6–6,10. Despite its literal meaning, the term jmy.t-pr describes any act of transfer, based on the legal fiction of a prior inventory of the properties being transferred; cf., e.g., Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. II, n. 131. 159   The economic data in P. Harris I contains extracts of documents of this kind: type A lists record the means of production granted to the institutions founded by Ramesses III or supplementing the allocations of such means to pre-existing institutions; B lists record the annual allocations paid to them; and C-E lists record occasional allocations resulting from gifts granted by the king, either to facilitate their operation (C lists) or to cover the costs of cult worship (the D lists record allocations of grain, the E-F lists allocations of other goods used particularly for the celebration of religious festivals); cf. Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. I, § 16. 160   These resources were in general land, personnel, and any other “means of production.” But they could also be a regular allocation or an income (cf. preceding note). As far as we can judge, the cult of the statute of Ramesses III established in Memphis in the year 24 of the reign of Ramesses III (KRI V 249–250) received only allocations paid jointly by the king and the treasury of Ptah. 158

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its management (tp-rd), and a statement of its mission, as well as a list of its exemptions from customary law, together with a codified list of the punishments that would be meted out to violators of the exemptions. It is this part of the foundations’ charters that is the best known, inasmuch as it was often the subject of publication, in a stela or a rock inscription form.161 However, even thus protected, the foundations were constantly victims of thefts or abuses of all sorts, particularly by the State authorities themselves, often eager to use for general-interest projects labor and material resources that their exemption from customary law theoretically forbade them to use. Times of political disruption naturally exacerbated this tendency, giving rise to periodic verifications of the temporal domain of the temple, and to various reorganization measures.162 Such, for instance, the situation of the temple of Horus-Khenty-Khety of Athribis in the era of Ramesses III: I (re)organized his august domain on water and earth by means of major decrees in his name, (valid) for all eternity. I left the priests and the seers of his domain to their own administration, in order to direct his community of serfs on earth and to manage his domain. I caused the vizier to stop disposing of them, and I liberated all the members of his personnel who had been under his control. I (thus) rendered it similar to the (domains of the) major temples of this country, protected and safeguarded for all eternity by what had been ordered. I brought back all the members of his personnel who had been scattered under the control of people of all kinds and overseers of all sorts, and brought back each to perform his task in his august domain.163

In principle, as we have seen, the religious institutions were established as inalienable and perpetual units. However, the king retained suzerainty over them, and in this capacity could alter them in any way

161   Cf. the examples quoted above, n. 76. Note that the Decree of Horemheb is not an exemption decree but a decree aimed at protecting the inhabitants of the domain directly managed by the State from abuses that its own offices could commit against them. 162   Cf. in particular the general inspection of the temples of Egypt, in year 15 of Ramesses III (Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. I, § 21 et II, n. 461; Id., Ramsès III, 219–223). P. Harris I in its entirety echoes this enterprise. A few special measures deserve to be noted: the reconstitution and preservation of the sacred herd of Heliopolis (P. Harris I, 30,3), the pure foundation of young men in the same place (Ibid., 30,2), the pure foundation of women of Ptah in Memphis (Ibid., 47,9); lastly the Apis herd (Ibid., 49, 4). 163   P. Harris I, 59,10–60,1.



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he chose. In addition to the power to establish a foundation within a pre-existing foundation, such as that of Medinet Habu, established by Ramesses III in the Domain of Amun, he could both increase the resources of an institution or reduce them in favor of another institution. To take again the example of Medinet Habu, the information in P. Wilbour lead us to think that Ramesses III was able to give this temple the extremely large resources that he allocated to it only by despoiling the Ramesseum, the burial temple of a king whom he had nevertheless taken as a model!164 An Intellectual Model The autonomy of the religious institutions of ancient Egypt resulted from the fact that they were established for the performance of worship, just as the earth itself, its resources, and humanity had been created by the Creator only to worship him by accomplishing his plan. There is not the slightest doubt, in fact, that the establishment of such institutions, regardless of their material bases, was intellectually conceived as an imitation of the Creation. Just as the created world was simply a projection of the Creator’s mind, that this mind inhabited, thereby giving it form and meaning, a religious institution was merely the material embodiment of its founder’s intention to create an organized “world” in which the performance of ceremonies would allow the daily recall to earth of the supreme divinity, the Sun, whose light gave it new form and meaning for the day. In addition, and just as the Creator had created the earth, its inhabitants, and its resources, out of the pre-existing chaos, and had then entrusted them to a king, solely accountable to Him, and who had the task of protecting and developing it, redistributing its riches, and ensuring social harmony and the performance of worship, the founder of a religious institution allocated to his foundation, for the same purposes, a territory (defined by borders), a population (defined by exemption from customary law), and resources (identified by name) that he entrusted to a steward, similarly accountable to him alone, to assume the same obligations.165 We should note, ­however, that just as   Here I am following the suggestion of Haring, Divine Households, 304–305.  Although they date from the Middle Kingdom and thus antedate the period under discussion here, genuine enlightenment is provided by the instructions of the nomarch Djefaihapy to his burial priest, forming the preamble to the famous Contracts of Assiut, col. 269–272, Montet, Kêmi 3 (1930–1935), 54–55. For a particularly 164 165

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the king was deemed to hold his position only from god—father-son succession in order of primogeniture being considered only a human custom—the heads of foundations held their power only from the kings, even if the kings could temporarily allow genuine dynasties to develop at their heads.166 To the best of our understanding and in the preceding light of the outline, it is not possible to over-emphasize the fact that along with the conduct of war and the administration of the territories under the State’s direct supervision, the foundation of religious institutions represented for the king of Egypt the political act par excellence. It actually enabled him, by an imitation of the Creation, to perform simultaneously his duties to human beings and to the gods, as described in the New Kingdom “constitution” of Egypt (redistribution of resources, social harmony, performance of worship), while manifesting by his meritorious character (the foundation of an institution is conceived as an intentional and unilateral act—a sacrifice—implying on the part of the founder the giving up of a portion of his assets), the effort he made to please the god and thereby gain the redemption of humankind. Like all the acts of the pharaoh, it was thus a religious act—the consecration of an offering—and like all religious acts, it had to be continually repeated in order to retain its value. A Legal Fiction As earthly representative of the Creator, the pharaoh was, as we have said, the prominent owner of all of Egypt and its resources, and, in this capacity, the only legally competent person to devote whatever portion of it he desired to the foundation of religious institutions. In most cases this privilege was exercised when he awarded to foundations properties that had no actual owner: conquered lands, virgin

interesting description of the establishment of a foundation, cf. Amarna frontier stela S, l. 13–25 (Urk. IV, 1984,1–1986,11); also the Great Dedicatory Inscription of Abydos, l. 82–93 (KRI II 332,4–333,11). 166   For example, the family of Bakenkhonsu and Roma-Roy, in charge of the domain of Amun from Ramesses II to the end of the Nineteenth Dynasty, or the family of Merybastet, at the head of the same institution from Ramesses III to the end of the Twentieth Dynasty; cf. e.g., Grandet, Ramsès III, p. 233 and pp. 138–139. Appointment to a high clerical function was also a means by which the kings provided income for a deserving servant. A famous case is that of the scribe of the army and chariotry (chief of the General Staff) Anhurmose, appointed high priest of This under Ramesses II-Merenptah, KRI IV 141–147, H. Kees, “Die Laufbahn des Hohenpriesters Onhumes von Thinis,” ZÄS 73 (1937), 77–90; Frood, Biographical Texts, 107–116.



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lands, lands missing an owner, captured livestock, prisoners of war, and the like. However, in very many cases—perhaps even the majority, if we include all the burial institutions from the start of Egyptian civilization—we find that the properties so awarded, and of which he appeared as donor, were in reality private possessions167 given up by the owner in order to ensure either the worship of a statue or his own burial cult.168 However, this “voluntary expropriation” was performed only on condition that the actual donor was recognized as steward, generally hereditary, of the foundation that his properties had served to establish.169 For instance, the donation stela of Medamud, dating from year 2 of Ramesses III, outlines the king’s consecration to the cult of a statue of himself and of a statue of Amun, as well as his purposeful allotment to them of 50 arures of farm land (ca 19 hectares), whose management he entrusted to the former owner, Khaemope, son of Iiemseba, “from son to son and heir to heir, unto all eternity.”170 In other words, such a foundation was based on the legal fiction that an owner, desiring to devote his properties or some of them to a religious worship cult, restored effective ownership thereof to the king, its eminent owner, so that the king could transfer it to the beneficiary 167   The existence of private property in Eygpt is proven by the distinction drawn by the governor of Assiut Djefaihapy, of the Twelfth Dynasty, between his patrimonial assets (“of the house of his father”) and his position assets (“of the house of the governor”), Contracts of Assiut, 284, 288, 301, 304, 313, 321 (Montet, Kêmi 3 [1930–1935], 55–69). Private property could be the result of inheritance, as in this example, or could have been given, during their lifetimes, by the king to persons whom he wished to distinguish or compensate. P. Wilbour offers numerous examples thereof (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 75–83). 168   The basic article is still that of D. Meeks, “Les donations aux temples dans l’Égypte du Ier millénaire avant J.-C.”, in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East I, J. Lipiński, ed. (OLA 5; Leuven, 1979), 605–687. An example of burial cult worship: P. Wilbour A, § 10 (Gardiner, Wilbour II, 18). The donor probably participated in the making of the statue: P. Harris I, 11,1–3 talks about statues for which (b¡k n=w) various types of persons worked. 169   Naturally, there must have been cases of worship cults founded by childless persons. The Contracts of Assiut, 270–271 (Montet, Kêmi 3 [1935–1935], 54–55) offer an interesting case of father-to-son succession without order of primogeniture, in which the manager of a funerary foundation (the ḥ m-k¡) had to be in each generation a son personally chosen by his father. It can be supposed that this arrangement made it possible, for example, to provide a younger son with the same resources as an elder son, heir to the largest part of his father’s assets. 170   K.A. Kitchen, “A Donation Stela of Ramesses III from Medamud”, BIFAO 73 (1973), 193–200 (KRI V 227, 3–12). Other examples and bibliography will be found in Grandet, Le Papyrus Harris I, vol. II, n. 183 and 222. Add P. Turin 1879 v° (KRI VI 335–337), W. Hovestreydt, “A Letter to the King relating to the Foundation of A Statue (P. Turin 1879 VSO.)”, LingAeg 5 (1997), 107–121.

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pierre grandet KING Eminent ownership

Eff ec

ip rsh ne ow ive

tiv eo wn ers hip

ec t Eff

Individual Usufruct

Tax

God X Bare ownership

Figure 7.  Gifts by individuals to temples.

god, who however retained only bare ownership, and left the fruits to the donor [Fig. 7],171 less the share that he had to devote to the religious worship for which the foundation had been established. This share represented, so to speak, a recognition of the god’s suzerainty, similar, in a way, to the feudal cens or quit-rent. The king’s participation in this transfer was made necessary by virtue of his position as Egypt’s overlord and eminent owner, and offered the guarantee of the State to a transaction that like any other had to be registered by the competent offices. The success of this kind of foundation (examples of which begin to proliferate with the Ramesside period) resulted from its equally preserve individuals’ and the State’s mutual interests. For the State in the person of the king, the private origin of the properties used to establish these foundations made it possible, first, to resolve the contradiction between the obligation to continually create new religious institutions or increase their size, and the necessarily limited nature of the res nullius resources that he could devote to them. But it also enabled him to increase the number of places of worship, as was his duty, without making any other effort than providing legal approval for a foundation 171   The Contracts of Assiut, 272 (Montet, Kêmi 3 [1930–1935], 56) provide us with a remarkably precise designation for the position of usufructuary, in the form of the periphrase wnm(w)-n-sbj(n)~n=f, “the person who eats [the revenues] without being able to diminish [the property].”



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already materially existing. For individuals, the dedication of personal property to the creation of institutions of this type was a means, for a minimal price (giving up of bare-ownership and payment of a tax), of continuing to benefit from all the advantages they had benefitted from their possession (usufruct) while avoiding what was undoubtedly the major disadvantage of real ownership: the division among heirs, which in each generation reduced the material bases of the prosperity of a family’s individual members. In addition, it offered the worthwhile guarantee and protection of a religious institution for the continued existence of the resources thus exploited.172 To take only one (admittedly famous) example: We know that around 1534 B.C., Ahmose I offered to Neshi, a squadron leader who had fought under his orders in the war for reunification of Egypt at the start of the Eighteenth Dynasty, a vast agricultural-estate in the region of Memphis, called “Neshi’s farm” (ḥ np.t Nšj), whose existence would still be attested, almost four hundred years later, in year 4 of Ramesses V,173 and at the center of which was the cult worship of an individual divinity, “Amun of the village of Neshi,” associated with the goddess Mut and depicted as a ram. Thanks to the famous inscription engraved on his Memphite tomb by Mose, one of the descendants of Neshi, around year 20 of Ramesses II (1233 B.C.),174 we know that from its beginning this property was statutorily operated in common by the descendants of Neshi, under the management of one of them, acting as trustee of his collateral relatives. And despite the various frictions that this arrangement had caused during the New Kingdom (first, a proceeding aimed at delimiting the individual parcels under Akhenaton and Horemheb, then, the lawsuit filed by Mose and his mother against a person who under Ramesses II usurped the role of trustee and descendant of Neshi), it is that the estate owed its exceptional longevity to this clause, since operation in common was the only way to avoid the fragmentation of the property that would have resulted from more than fifteen generations of division of inheritance. Since only religious foundation status guaranteed this kind of inalienability, it seems highly

172   The Decree of Horemheb, which discusses the abuses suffered by the private owners in that part of Egypt directly managed by the State, and who, precisely, did not enjoy such protection, shows, a contrario, the full value of that protection. 173   Papyrus Wilbour, B 9,22; 9,24. 174   Gaballa, The Memphite Tomb-Chapel of Mose (KRI III 425–435).

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probable that “Neshi’s farm” had been organized from the beginning as a religious foundation, serving for the worship of the form of Amun that it sheltered. In conclusion, and regardless of the intellectual rationale behind the foundation of religious institutions, it is obvious that this type of organization could not have survived throughout millennia if it had not simultaneously offered the pharaonic State numerous practical advantages, the principal ones being, in our opinion, three in number: 1. The existence of religious institutions relieved the State of the extremely complex task of administering directly the portions of the country that they managed; that is, they organized, in its stead, the collection and redistribution of resources and the management of persons and properties. By the simple act of their creation, the king could moreover claim to be simultaneously performing his government and religious duties. 2. The foundation of such institutions represented an ideal instrument for developing the territory, since it permitted at once the maintenance of land and the exploitation or development of agricultural resources under-exploited or until then not exploited at all. The establishment of the Egyptian temples in Nubia in the Middle and New Kingdoms is certainly an excellent example of this procedure, but we can also mention the foundation of Amarna, the city sacred to the god Aten, in a territory that its border stelae designated specifically as res nullius.175 3. Lastly, because of their inalienable nature, the establishment of these institutions made it possible to oppose property fragmentation, since their application exempted foundation lands from the normal rules of ownership, which required their division among heirs. As such, it also represented an instrument of social regulation, since it prevented the concomitant impoverishment of social groups who derived their income from agriculture, and whose loyalty was one of the necessary supports of the monarchical institution. The large number (37) of agricultural parcels exploited under this formula, according to the evidence provided by the Wilbour Papyrus, under the name of “Lands sacred (ḥ nk) to the worship of   Frontier stela K of Amarna, l. 22–23 (Urk. IV 1968, 15–17).

175



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the gods of Pharaoh,”176 and the fact that all seem to have initially been gifts of the king to deserving servants, particularly former soldiers, tends to show that they were dedicated to cult worship as soon as possible, and even as soon as they were received.177 *  *  * We would finally like to point out how the organization of the various levels of independence and autonomy of the Egyptian institutions reflects the diagram of a “pyramid of pyramids” type of organization mentioned on page 851–853 above, in connection with the social hierarchy. In this instance, the model reflects itself in the form of a supreme institution, including autonomous institutions, which in turn included autonomous institutions of lesser rank, arranged in as many tiers as necessary, down to the bottom of the edifice. With all due proportions being observed, we could thus define institutional Egypt as the co-existence of these autonomous institutions and that portion of the country directly managed by the royal administration, in a structure that could at one and the same time be classified as “federal” (partnership, under the sponsorship of a central State, of institutions having the same level of autonomy) and as “feudal” (hierarchical partnership of institutions with varying degrees of autonomy).

  Gardiner, Wilbour II, 86–87.  In addition to Neshi, cf. as well the examples of Ahmose, son of Abana (Urk. IV 10,14–11,2), the charioteer Kery (St. Berlin 14994, Helck, Historisch-Biographische Texte, 116, n° 129), and the Fayum donation stela, KRI V 270. 176 177

Administration of the Deserts and Oases: First Millennium B.C.E. David Klotz Introduction Evidence for desert administration is sparse during the early first millennium B.C.E., but activity increased dramatically in Dynasties 26–27, and most extant inscriptional and archaeological remains date to the Graeco-Roman period. Desert travel had always demanded substantial resources and fastidious maintenance. When Egypt was under Achaemenid, Macedonian, or Roman control, manpower was more readily available and consequently more installations popped up across the Eastern and Western deserts. While the Persians and Ptolemies continued to exploit the valuable mineral deposits in the East, they also viewed Egypt from a broader international perspective, and thus the deserts became gateways to profitable trade routes in the Sahara, Red Sea, and Western Mediterranean. Third Intermediate Period Since the Eleventh Dynasty, the Western Oases had been linked administratively to Thebes. At the end of the New Kingdom, the High Priest of Amun, Menkheperre, personally oversaw Kharga and Dakhla. Stelae from Gebel Antef, west of Thebes, mention Menkheperre in connection with stonemasons and horses travelling along desert roads;1 a stone door jamb found at Hibis temple, meanwhile, appears to mention the same Theban pontiff and General.2 In the ‘Banishment Stela’, 1   J.C. Darnell, “Opening the Narrow Doors of the Desert: Discoveries of the Theban Desert Road Survey”, in: Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the Desert, Renée Friedman, ed. (London: 2002), 132–36, fig. 3. 2   J. Osing, Denkmäler der Oase Dachla: aus dem Nachlass von Ahmed Fakhry (AV 28; Mainz am Rhein, 1982), p. 39, Pl. 9. Although the name is missing, extant traces suggest restoring the title as: “Generalissimo of Upper [and Lower Egypt] (imy-r¡ mšʿ wr n Šmʿ[-Mḥ w]),” rather than “Generalissimo who appeases [the two lands] (imy-r¡ mšʿ wr sḥ tp [t¡.wy]” (so Osing, who ascribed the monument to Pinudjem); this epithet

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the same Menkheperre intercedes on behalf of Theban priests whom Amun had exiled to the oases.3 He also organized expeditions to the Wadi Hammamat in the Eastern desert.4 Fragmentary temple reliefs from Dakhla attest to sporadic temple construction during the Third Intermediate Period.5 The most important document is the ‘Greater Dakhla stela’.6 This inscription records a visit to Mut by Wayheset, Chief of the Meshwesh and Governor of the Two Oasis Lands (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n p¡ t¡ snw n wḥ ¡.t), most likely the Southern or Great Oasis (Kharga, Dakhla) and the Northern Oasis (Bahariya). Sheshonq I had dispatched Wayheset to restore order in the Oases, and the official regulates agricultural disputes concerning wells and irrigation, appealing to the local god Seth for divine authority.7 Wayheset also bears religious titles which link him to Hû (Diospolis Parva), a region closely linked to the Oases via desert roads, and the lunette of the stela appears to depict the Bat-standard (sḫ m) sacred to the Seventh Upper Egyptian nome.8 The extent of Pharaonic control of Nubia during the Third Intermediate Period is debatable.9 The office of Viceroy of Kush is attested through Dynasty Twenty-Two, and a stela found at Elephantine records of Menkheperre occurs, inter alia, on the Banishment stela (JWIS I, 72, line 8). Another block mentioning a High Priest of Amun, perhaps Menkheperre, was found at Mut: O.E. Kaper, “Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh in the Libyan Period”, in: The Libyan Period in Egypt: Historical and Cultural Perspectives into the 21st–24th Dynasties, G.P.F. Broekman, R.J. Demarée & O.E. Kaper, eds. (EgUit 23; Leuven, 2009), 154. 3   J. von Beckerath, “Die ‘Stele der Verbannten’ im Museum des Louvre”, RdÉ 20 (1968), 7–36; K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit. Teil I: Die 21. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2007), 72–74; see also G. Vittmann, “A proposito di alcuni testi e monumenti del Terzo Period Intermedio e dell’Epoca Tarda”, in: Aegyptiaca et Coptica. Studi in onore di Sergio Pernigotti, P. Buzi, D. Picchi and M. Zecchi, eds. (BAR 2264; Oxford, 2011), 335–37. 4   A.J. Peden, The Graffiti of Pharaonic Egypt. Scope and role of informal writing (ProbÄg 17; Leiden, Boston, Cologne, 2001), 276. 5  O.E. Kaper, “Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh in the Libyan Period”, 149–59. 6   A.H. Gardiner, “The Dakhleh Stela”, JEA 19 (1933), 19–30; K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit. Teil II: Die 22.–24. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2007), 23–26. 7  For the cult of Seth in Mut see O.E. Kaper, “The Statue of Penbast : On the Cult of Seth in the Dakhleh Oasis”, in: Essays on Ancient Egypt in Honour of Herman te Velde (EgMem 1; Groningen, 1997), 231–41; C. Gobeil, “Une plaque céramique à l’effigie du dieu Seth à Ayn Asil”, BIFAO 110 (2010), 103–14. 8   Ph. Collombert, “Hout-sekhem et le septième nome de Haute-Égypte II: les stèles tardives,” RdÉ 48 (1997), 53–54. 9   K. Zibelius-Chen, “Überlegungen zur ägyptischen Nubienpolitik in der Dritten Zwischenzeit”, SAK 16 (1989), 329–45.



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a visit by Osorkon II.10 However, while scholars continue to interpret the inscription of Queen Katimala from Semna as evidence of Libyan engagement in Upper Nubia,11 recent studies have demonstrated that she is most likely a contemporaneous Nubian ruler.12 Napatan Period (Dynasty 25) There is little evidence for Napatan interest in the Eastern or Western deserts. Only a handful of inscriptions commemorate Napatan expedition through the Wadi Hammamat,13 while on a building text from Kawa, Taharqa boasted that he conscripted expert vintners from Bahariya Oasis to produce the wine for Amun of Gempaaten.14 Nonetheless, the so-called ‘Smaller Dakhla stela’, discovered in Mut, records temple donations during the reign of Piye, enacted by a “sealbearing scribe in the Oasis (sš-ḫ tm m wḥ ¡.t)”; based on his religious titles, he seems to have been dispatched from Thebes.15 Saite Period (Dynasty 26) After Psamtek I led a military campaign against Libya,16 Saite kings became increasingly involved in the Western Oases, Libya, and the new Greek colony of Cyrenaica.17 Apries provided military support to

  K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 120–21.  I.e., identifying her with the similarly-named Karoma or Karomama; C. Bennett, “Queen Karimala: daughter of Osorchor?”, GM 173 (1999), 7–8; K. Zibelius-Chen, BiOr 64 (2007), 379–81; R. El-Sayed, LingAeg 15 (2007), 345. 12   J.C. Darnell, The Inscription of Queen Katimala at Semna (YES 7; New Haven, 2006); Ph. Collombert, “Par-déla Bien et Mal: L’inscription de la reine Katimal à Semna”, Kush 19 (2003–2008), 209–10. 13   A.J. Peden, The Graffiti of Pharaonic Egypt, 276–77. 14   Kawa VI, 16; K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit. Teil III: Die 25. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2009), 140. 15   J.J. Janssen, “The Smaller Dâkhla Stela (Ashmolean Museum no. 1894.107b)”, JEA 54 (1968), 165–72; K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit II, 363–65. 16  H. Goedicke, “Psammetik I. und die Libyer”, MDAIK 18 (1962), 26–49. 17  Fr. Colin, “Les fondateurs du sanctuaire d’Amon à Siwa (Désert Libyque). Autour d’un bronze de donation inédit”, in: Egyptian Religion: the Last Thousand Years. Studies Dedicated to the Memory of Jan Quaegebeur, I, W. Clarysse, et al., eds., (OLA 84; Leuven, 1998), 329–55. 10

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the Libyans, but after a humiliating defeat the Egyptian general, Amasis, usurped the crown with Greek and Cyrene backing.18 Inscriptional material provides evidence for increased Egyptian presence in the Western Oases, with chapels in Dakhla (Amheida, Mut),19 Bahariya (El-Qasr,20 Ain Muftella,21 El-Bawiti),22 and even Siwa (Aghurmi).23 While there are relatively few records of Saite activity in the Eastern Desert,24 the preponderance of greywacke statues from this period suggests intense quarrying activity in the Wadi Hammamat. Not much is known of the desert administration at this time, except for the interesting title “overseer of Tjemehu and Tjehenu Libyans.”25 This office presumably involved guarding the Western frontier and monitoring trade along the various caravan roads, perhaps similar to the better understood “Oveerseers of the Doors of Foreign Lands (imy-r¡ ʿ¡ ḫ ¡s.wt).”26 Nonetheless, various documents mention the toponym “land of the Tjemehu Libyans,” apparently a frontier region near Marea in the North-West Delta,27 so the administrative title might refer to this specific locale. A private statue from the Delta, almost certainly

18  F. Chamoux, Cyrène sous la monarchie des Battiades (BEFAR 177; Paris, 1953), 135–6; A. Leahy, “The Earliest Dated Monument of Amasis and the End of the Reign of Apries”, JEA 74 (1988), 189–199. 19  O.E. Kaper, “Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis in the Late Period”, in: New Perpectives on the Western Dersert of Egypt. Sixth Dakhleh Oasis Project International Conference, Università del Salento, Lecce, 21–24 September 2009, R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli, and C. Hope, eds. (in press). 20   PM VII, 299–301; F. Colin and F. Labrique, “Semenekh oudjat à Bahariya”, in: Religions méditerranéennes et orientales de l’antiquité, F. Labrique ed. (BdE 135; Cairo, 2002), 60–72. 21  F. Labrique, “Les divinités thébaines dans les chapelles saïtes d’Ayn el-Mouftella”, in: « Et maintenant ce ne sont plus que des villages . . . ». Thèbes et sa région aux époques hellénistique, romaine et byzantine, A. Delattre and P. Heilporn, eds. (PapBrux 34; Brussels, 2008), 3–16. 22   PM VII, 299. An offering bowl found at Hibis bears the cartouches of Apries (H.E. Winlock, Hibis I, Pl. 26), but no other evidence directly indicates Saite activity in Kharga Oasis. 23   K.-C. Bruhn, „Kein Tempel der Pracht“. Architektur und Geschichte des Tempels aus der Zeit des Amasis auf Aġūrmī, Oase Siwa, Ammoniaca I (AV 114; Mainz am Rhein, 2010), 15, 76. 24   A.J. Peden, The Graffiti of Pharaonic Egypt, 283–84. 25  L. Gestermann, “Grab und Stele von Psametich, Oberarzt und Vorsteher der T̠ mḥ .w”, RdÉ 52 (2001), 127–47. 26   G. Posener, “Les douanes de la Méditerranée dans l’Égypte Saïte”, RevPh 21 (1947), 117–31; C. Somaglino, “Les ‘portes’ de l’Égypte de l’ancien empire à l’époque saite”, Egypte, Afrique & Orient 59 (2010), 3–16. 27  O. Perdu, “Documents relatifs aux gouverneurs du Delta au début de la XXVIe dynastie”, RdÉ 57 (2006), 174, n. c.



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of Saite date, records a voyage to Punt via Coptos by a simple “royal messenger (wpwty-nsw).”28 Persian Period (Dynasty 27) When Cambyses invaded Egypt by land in 526 B.C.E., the Achaemenid army learned firsthand the necessity for maintaining strategic desert outposts. In order to cross the unforgiving terrain between Gaza (Kadytis)29 and Pelusium, the Persian troops relied on the logistical support of Arabic tribes who provided directions and established various watering stations (Hdt. III, 4–9). The next two centuries saw an increased Persian presence in the Sinai desert, with continued occupation of Saite fortresses and more substantial constructions at sites such as Tell Hebua and Tell Kedwa.30 Numerous graffiti from the Wadi Hammamat, composed in both hieroglyphs and Aramaic, attest to renewed interest in mining expeditions and Red Sea travel.31 These expeditions took place under the supervision of the Egyptian official Khnumibre, who served as Director of Works for all Egypt and all foreign lands, from late in the reign of Amasis through regnal year 30 of Darius I (492 B.C.E.).32 Afterwards, the Wadi Hammamat was under control of an Egyptianized Persian eunuch (saris) named Athiyavahya who governed from Coptos.33 Here 28  M. Betrò, “Punt, la XXVI dinastia e il frammento di statua del Museo Pushkin I.1.B 1025,” EVO 19 (1996), 41–49. 29   J. Quaegebeur, “À propos de l’identification de la ‘Kadytis’ d’Hérodote avec Gaza”, in: Immigration and Emigration within the Near East. Festschrift E. Lipiński, K. van Lerberghe and A. Schoors, eds. (OLA 65; Leuven, 1995), 245–270. 30  D. Valbelle, C. Defernez, “Les sites de la frontière égypto-palestinienne à l’époque perse”, Transuphratène 9 (1995), 93–99; C. Defernez, “Le Sinaï et l’Empire perse,” in: Le Sinaï durant l’antiquité et le Moyen Age. 4000 ans d’histore pour un désert, D. Valbelle and C. Bonnet, eds. (Paris, 1998), 67–74; E.D. Oren, “Le Nord-Sinaï à l’époque perse. Perspectives archéologiques”, in ibid., 75–82; D. Valbelle, “A First Persian Period Fortress at Tell el-Herr”, EA 18 (2001), 12–14. 31   G. Posener, La première domination perse en Égypte: recueil d’inscriptions hiéroglyphiques (BdE 11; Cairo, 1936), 88–130; G. Goyon, Nouvelles inscriptions rupestres du Wadi Hammamat (Paris, 1957), 118–20; L. Bongrani Fanfoni, F. Israel “Documenti achemenidi nel deserto orientale egiziano (Gebel Abu Queh—Wadi Hammamat,” Transeuphratène 8 (1994), 75–93. 32  For Khnumibre, see also G. Vittmann, “Ägypten zur Zeit der Perserherrschaft”, in: Herodot und das Persische Weltreich, R. Rollinger, B. Truschnegg and R. Bichler, eds. (Classica et Orientalia 3; Wiesbaden, 2011), 389–90. 33   G. Vittmann, “Ägypten zur Zeit der Perserherrschaft”, 392. Not only did Athiyavahya adopt the Egyptian nickname “Djedhor,” but he depicted himself worshipping

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workmen quarried materials for major Persian monuments, including the famous statue of Darius I at Susa.34 Darius and his successors drafted thousands of Egyptian artisans to decorate their palaces in Iran,35 voyaging to the Persian Gulf from the Red Sea,36 possibly by way of Coptos and the Eastern Desert.37 While some work took place in the Eastern Desert, considerable resources ventured out west, expanding beyond Saite settlements and continuing engagement with Cyrenaica. Persian Period activity concentrated heavily in Kharga Oasis, which saw the reconstruction of temples to Amun at Hibis and Qasr el-Ghueita under Darius I,38 and a temple of Osiris at ʿAyn Manawir under Artaxerxes I;39 decoration also continued at the Thoth temple in Amheida (Dakhla Oasis).40 Largescale exploitation of the Oases was facilitated by the introduction of Min and learned to write hieroglyphs; D. Klotz, “Darius with the Letter h”, CdE 83 (2008), 113–15. 34   J. Trichet and F. Vallat, “L’origine égyptienne de la statue de Darius”, in: Contributions à l’histoire de l’Iran. Mélanges offerts à Jean Perrot, F. Vallat, ed. (Paris, 1990), 205–8; J. Yoyotte, “La statue égyptienne de Darius”, in: Le Palais de Darius à Suse: une résidence royale sur la route de Persépolis à Babylone, J. Perrot, ed. (Paris, 2010), 256–99. 35  M. Wasmuth, “Egyptians in Persia”, in: Organisation des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans les pays de l’empire achéménide, P. Briant and M. Chauveau, eds. (Persika 13; Paris, 2009), 133–41. 36   C. Tuplin, “Darius’ Suez Canal and Persian Imperialism”, in: Achaemenid History VI: Asia Minor and Egypt: Old Cultures in a New Empire, H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg and A. Kuhrt, eds. (Leiden, 1991), 275–78. Hundreds of Persepolis Fortification Tablets mention Egyptians in connection with Tamukkan (vars. Taokê; Takh(u)makka) near the Persian Gulf: W.F.M. Henkelman, “From Gabae to Taoce: the geography of the central administrative province”, in: L’archive des Fortifications de Persépolis. État des questions et perspectives de recherches, P. Briant, W.F.M. Henkelman and M.W. Stolper, eds. (Persika 12; Paris, 2008), 303–16; a Demotic papyrus from Saqqara refers to Egyptians headed towards the toponym Twmrk during the Persian Period (CG 50067; W. Spiegelberg, Die demotischen Denkmäler, III: Demotische Inschriften und Papyri [Berlin, 1932], 57), quite possibly the same locale. 37   G. Posener, La première domination perse en Égypte, 179–80. 38   J.C. Darnell, “The Antiquity of Ghueita Temple”, GM 212 (2007), 29–40. E. CruzUribe’s proposal to date most of Hibis temple to the Saite Period (“Hibis Temple ­Project: Preliminary Report, 1985–1986 and Summer 1986 Field Seasons”, VA 3 [1987], 227–30), is frequently repeated (e.g. G. Vittmann, “Ägypten zur Zeit der Perserherrschaft”, p. 385), but rests solely on questionable evidence. Various factors support a datation under Darius I, as the inscriptions claim; see D. Klotz, “The Date of Hibis Temple” (in preparation). 39  M. Wuttman, et al., “Premier rapport préliminaire des travaux sur le site de ‘Ayn Manāwīr (oasis de Kharga)”, BIFAO 96 (1996), 385–451; Id., “ ʿAyn Manāwīr (oasis de Kharga). Deuxième rapport préliminaire”, BIFAO 98 (1998), 367–462. The earliest dated ostracon from the temple dates to regnal year 22 of Artaxerxes I (443 b.c.e.). 40  O.E. Kaper, “Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis in the Late Period”.



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Achaemenid qanat technology at ‘Ayn Manawir in South Kharga,41 although there is evidence for other methods of irrigation at Qasr el-Ghueita before Dynasty 27. As in earlier periods, desert roads primarily linked Kharga and the other oases to Thebes,42 but reliefs from Hibis temple reveal the importance of other prominent routes leading to the Nile Valley such as Thinis/Abydos, and Asyut.43 The Persians were likely interested in improving land transport to Cyrenaica and Carthage,44 and tapping into the trans-Saharan caravan routes.45 In building texts from Hibis and Ghueita, Darius I claims to have used timber from “Western lands,” apparently Libya or someplace further west.46 Although Kush technically belonged to the Achaemenid Empire as part of the Egypto-Libyan satrapy, limited material evidence indicates an official presence in Nubia.47 Elephantine, at least, was home to a substantial Persian military settlement. Late Period (Dynasties 28–30) In the brief interval of Egyptian independence (Dynasties 28–30), occupation continued in the Western deserts. Achoris, Nectanebo I

41  M. Wuttman, “Les qanats de ‘Ayn Manāwīr (oasis de Kharga, Égypte)”, in: Irrigation et drainage dans l’antiquité: qanats et canalisations souterraines en Iran, en Égypte et en Grèce, P. Briant, ed. (Persika 2; Paris, 2001), 109–36. 42  Note especially graffiti from the entrance to the Darb Rayayna west of Armant mentioning Amun of Hibis and Darius I: Chr. Di Cerbo and R. Jasnow, “Five Persian Period Demotic and Hieroglyphic Graffiti from the Site of Apa Tyrannos at Armant”, Enchoria 23 (1996), 32–38. Significant numbers of Saite-Persian sigha-pots along Theban Desert roads reflect the increased activity to Kharga: D. Darnell, “Oasis Ware Flasks and Kegs from the Theban Desert”, CCE 6 (2000), 227–233. 43   J. Osing, “Notizen zu den Oasen Charga und Dachla”, GM 92 (1986), 80–81. 44   Cambyses conquered Cyrenaica and Libya during his invasion to Egypt, and the Persian army unsuccessfully interfered in local political disputes (Hdt. IV, 165–205; B.M. Mitchell, “Cyrene and Persia”, JHS 86 [1966], 99–113). For Persian interest in Carthage, cf. Hdt. III, 17. 45  M. Liverani, “The Libyan Caravan Road in Herodotus IV.181–185”, JESHO 43 (2000), 496–520. 46   J.C. Darnell, D. Klotz, and C. Manassa, “The Theban Pantheon at Ghueita and the Temple Economy of the Oases”, in: Documents de Théologies Thébaines Tardives, II, C. Thiers, ed. (CENIM 7; Montpellier, forthcoming). 47  R. Morkot, “Nubia and Achaemenid Persia: sources and problems”, in: Asia Minor and Egypt: Old Cultures in a New Empire, H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg and A. Kuhrt (ed.), (Achaemenid History 6; Leiden, 1991), 321–35.

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and II added a forecourt, portico, and enclosure wall to Hibis temple,48 Nectanebo I built a temple to Amun in Bahrein Oasis,49 while Nectanebo II constructed another in Siwa (Umm Ubeyda).50 The funerary stela Louvre C 112 (also Dynasties 28–30) offers a rare glimpse into the administration of the desert territories during this period.51 The owner, Hor, bears an impressive array of administrative titles in the greater Thebaid, including both “royal director of Upper Egypt (ḫ rp-nsw.t n Šmʿ)” and “royal account scribe (sš-nsw.t ḥ sb) of the Southern Oasis (Kharga and Dakhla) and of Hibis.” At the same time, Hor received high sacerdotal honors linking him to several districts in Middle Egypt (UE nomes VI–XIII), centered around the Thinite region. Ptolemaic Period When Alexander the Great entered Egypt, he did not stop at Memphis but continued deep into the Western Desert to visit the oracle of Amun in Siwa Oasis. While motives of ideology and political propaganda certainly lay behind this remarkable expedition,52 Alexander likely aimed to establish Macedonian control of the Western Desert and reach out to Cyrenaica. Ptolemy I Soter annexed Cyrenaica to Egypt in the second year of his satrapy (323 B.C.E.), and it became a permanent part of Egypt when Ptolemy III Euergetes married the Cyrene princess Berenike.53 The Ptolemies entrusted the administration of Cyrenaica to various strategoi, although Polybius (15.25.12) also mentions the title libyarch.54

48  H.E. Winlock, The Temple of Hibis in El Khārgeh Oasis, I: The Excavations (MMAEEP 13; New York, 1941), 20–34. Note especially the statue of Achoris found at Hibis: E. Cruz-Uribe, VA 3 (1987), 220–24. 49   P. Gallo, “Ounamon, roi de l’oasis libyenne d’El-Bahrein,” BSFE 166 (2006), 11–30. 50   K. Kuhlmann, “The Ammoneion Project Preliminary Report by the German Institute Mission to Siwa Oasis Season 4th February, 2005–4th April, 2006”, ASAE 82 (2008), 189–204. 51  Fr. von Känel, Les prêtres-ouâb de Sekhmet et les conjurateurs de Serket (BEPHE 87; Paris, 1984), 107–11, with references to text editions. 52   G. Hölbl, A History of the Ptolemaic Empire (London-New York, 2001), 9–11. 53  For the history of Ptolemaic engagements in Cyrene, see A. Laronde, Cyrène et la Libye hellenistique: Libykai Historiai de l’époque républicaine au principat d’Auguste (Paris, 1987). 54  R.S. Bagnall, The Administration of the Ptolemaic Possessions Outside of Egypt (CSCT 4; Leiden, 1976), 33–37.



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In addition to new foundations in Cyrene itself,55 the early Ptolemaic Period witnessed continued occupation of the Western Oases. A small temple in Bahariya (Qasr el-Megisba) features decoration from the reign of Alexander,56 work continued at Hibis under Ptolemy II–III,57 while Qasr el-Ghueita expanded under Ptolemy III and IV. At the latter temple, bandeau inscriptions state that Ghueita served as an entrepôt, receiving natural products from Bahariya Oasis and redistributing them towards Thebes.58 Just as Ptolemy III Euergetes imported grain from his Aegean possessions to handle a famine in Egypt,59 so did he rely on the more dependable Oases to supply food and other resources to Upper Egypt. As in earlier periods, the Ptolemies aggressively explored and settled the Eastern Desert, both to increase the number of mining expeditions, and also to facilitate Red Sea travel and commerce.60 Ptolemy II expanded earlier canals at Suez, numerous ports were established along the Red Sea coast, and troops protected the desert routes at various fortifications. If the Ptolemies were first drawn to this region in their search for African war elephants, the infrastructure and nautical exploration enabled more profitable trade with Arabia and India for the coming centuries. The Eastern mining regions were closely linked to Coptos near the Qena Bend, and to Edfu in the south; a Greek stela from the latter region indicates that desert exploration in SouthEastern Egypt and Lower Nubia were supervised by the “toparch of the Three (Nomes).”61

55   K. Mueller, Settlements of the Ptolemies: City Foundations and New Settlements in the Hellenistic World (StudHell 43; Leuven, 2006), 143–146. 56  F. Colin, “Un ex-voto de pèlerinage auprès d’Ammon dans le temple dit « d’Alexandre », à Bahariya (désert Libyque)”, BIFAO 97 (1997), 91–96. 57  H.E. Winlock, The Temple of Hibis I, 39; H.G.E. White, H.G. Oliver, The Temple of Hibis II: Greek Inscriptions (New York, 1939), 49–50, No. 7. 58   J.C. Darnell, D. Klotz, and C. Manassa, “The Theban Pantheon at Ghueita”. 59  H. Heinen, “Hunger, Not und Macht. Bemerkungen zur herrschenden Gesellschaft im ptolemäischen Ägypten”, AncSoc 36 (2006), 14–22. 60  For Greek and Roman activity in the Eastern Desert, see recently S.E. Sidebotham, Berenike and the Ancient Maritime Spice Route (Berkeley-Los Angeles, 2011). 61  R.S. Bagnall, J.G. Manning, S.E. Sidebotham, and R.E. Zitterkopf, “A Ptolemaic Inscription from Bir ’Iayyan”, CdE 71 (1996), 317–39.

From conquered to conqueror: the organization of Nubia in the New Kingdom and the kushite administration of egypt Robert Morkot Terminology: Nubia is used throughout in the conventional way as a general geographical term for the Nile Valley from the First to Fourth Cataracts. Nubia under Egyptian Rule during the New Kingdom: The Evidence Although a huge number of monuments document those who worked in the administration of Wawat and Kush under New Kingdom rule, relatively few are of a type that informs us about the workings of the system. This means that much has to be reconstructed or inferred from titles, parallels with Egypt, and broader assumptions about “Nubia” and the way it functioned. A large and immensely important prosopographical literature forms the foundation for any study of the Egyptian ruling class within Egypt and Nubia; but prosopography, whether of an office,1 of a single reign or a whole period;2 or related to a single monument,3 or an archaeological site,4 although fundamental to any understanding of the subject,  G.A. Reisner, “The Viceroys of Ethiopia” JEA 6 (1920), 28–55, 73–88; H. ­Gauthier, “Les ‘Fils royaux de Kouch’ et le personnel administratif de l’Ethiopie”, RT 39 (1921), 179–238; B. Schmitz, Untersuchungen zum titel S¡-njswt “Königssohn” (Bonn, 1976); M. Vallogia, Recherche sur les «messagers» (wpwtyw) dans les sources égyptiennes profanes (Génève, 1976); J. Pomorska, Les flabellifères à la droite du roi en Égypte ancienne (Warsaw, 1988). 2  W. Helck, Zur Verwaltung des Mittleren und Neuen Reichs (Leiden, Cologne, 1958); P. Der Manuelian, Studies in the reign of Amenophis II (HÄB 26; Hildesheim 1987); B.M. Bryan, The Reign of Thutmose IV (Baltimore, London, 1991). 3  E.g. L. Habachi, “The graffiti and work of the Viceroys of Kush in the region of Aswan” Kush 5 (1957), 13–36; the literature relating to the prosopography of the New Kingdom administration of Nubia is vast and for practical reasons references in the following discussion have been severely limited. 4  G. Steindorff, Aniba II (Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte- Mission archéologique de Nubie, 1929–1934; Glückstadt, Hamburg, 1937); H.S. Smith, H.S., The Fortress of 1

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has until recently taken precedence over more generalised analytical studies. For Nubian Studies specifically, despite the distinguished work of Habachi and others, a full prosopography of the Nubian administration still awaits publication,5 and Reisner’s (1920) study of the Viceroys remains the only published survey of these most important officials.6 A small number of monuments do give us some greater insights into the ordering and working of the administration. By far the most important is the tomb of the Viceroy Amenhotep-Huy at Thebes (TT40), published by Davies and Gardiner.7 This shows the appointment of Huy as Viceroy, followed by his journey to Nubia where he is received by the chief officials. We also see him involved in various duties attended by named subordinates. Although there are tombs of other officials of the administration at Thebes, these have not been published.8 The chapel of Setau at Qasr Ibrim depicts the Viceroy with officials of the administration, giving some indication of key places and positions.9 Very few administrative documents survive: some economic texts indicate connections between the administration and Egypt, and the Nauri Decree details the functioning of one specific institution. The Political Geography of New Kingdom Nubia The general literature up until 2000 reflected the large amounts of archaeological activity throughout the Nile Valley south of Aswan as far as the Fourth Cataract, most of it concentrated between the First and Second Cataracts. The process of Egyptian expansion and ­domination Buhen II. The Inscriptions (London, 1976); A. Gasse, V. Rondot, Les inscriptions de Séhel (MIFAO 126; Cairo, 2007). 5  I. Müller’s doctoral dissertation (Berlin-GDR 1979), Die Verwaltung der nubischen Provinz im Neuen Reich, remains unpublished, as does M. Dewachter’s Répertoire des monuments des vice-rois de Kouch (de la Reconquête ahmoside à la morte de Ramsès II) (Paris, Sorbonne, Mai 1978) and the present writer’s own corpus. 6  Complete lists have been published by Schmitz, Untersuchungen and by Habachi in LÄ III, 630–640, the fundamental works of Habachi have discussed various periods. 7  N. de Garis Davies, A.H. Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, Viceroy of Nubia in the reign of Tutʿankhamūn (No.40) (London, 1926). 8  TT156 Pennesuttawy: L. Habachi, “The owner of tomb n° 282”, JEA 54 (1968), 107–13; TT 282 Anhurnakhte: Id., ibid., 107sq.; TT289 Setau; TT383 Merymose; TTD1 Nehi, Qurnet Murai seen by early travellers, PM I.2 461. 9  R.A. Caminos, The Shrines and rock-inscriptions of Ibrim (London, 1968).



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can be charted through inscriptional and archaeological material, much of it known for a long time. Whilst there is a general agreement on the military expansion that brought about Egyptian domination of the region, there is more division on the way in which the conquered territories were controlled, the degree of absorption within a ‘colonial’ system, and the geographical extent of Egyptian rule. The generally accepted view by the late 1970s characterized the Egyptian expansion into and control of Nubia thus:10 •  In the late 17th and early 18th dynasties the Egyptian campaigns against Kush saw the reconquest of Lower Nubia and reoccupation of Buhen, followed by a move south of the Third Cataract, and the founding of a new fortress on the island of Sai. The position of King’s Son was created to oversee the new territory. Thutmose I (probably) destroyed Kerma, although it was immediately renewed. Thutmose I also established a border on the Nile at Hagar el-Merwa. There were further rebellions and Egyptian military actions during the reigns of Thutmose II and Hatshepsut. Thutmose III completed the conquest of Kush along the river as far as Gebel Barkal and the Fourth Cataract, and also renewed Thutmose I’s border at Hagar el-Merwa. •  The whole of Upper Nubia from the Second to the Fourth Cataracts then became the administrative province of “Kush”, ruled by the Viceroy (King’s Son) and his deputy the ἰdnw. Egypt exploited the whole of Nubia and the regions beyond through systems of “tax” and “tribute”. •  There was perhaps “colonial” settlement with, possibly, Egyptian settlers. The main centres were Mi‘am (Aniba), Sehetep-netjeru (Faras) and Aksha in Lower Nubia, and Soleb, Sedeinga, Sesebi, Kawa and perhaps “Napata” (some writers even proposed that “Napata” was the viceregal capital) in Upper Nubia.

10  W.Y. Adams, Nubia: Corridor to Africa (London, 1977); Id., “The First Colonial Empire: Egypt in Nubia 3200–1200 B.C.”, Comparative Studies in Society and History 26 (1984), 36–71; B.G. Trigger, Nubia under the pharaohs (London, 1976); J. ­Vercoutter, “La XVIIIe dynastie à Sai et en haute-Nubie” CRIPEL 1 (1972), 9–38; see also Ch. Bonnet, Kerma, royaume de Nubie. Exposition organisée au Musée d’art et d’histoire, Génève 14 juin–25 novembre 1990 (Génève, 1990); S. Säve-Söderbergh, L. Troy, 1991, New Kingdom Pharaonic sites. The finds and the sites (SJE 5:2; Copenhagen, Oslo, Stockholm and Helsinki, 1991), 1–13.

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•  Agricultural decline set-in during the 18th dynasty and by the end of the 20th (in some accounts the 18th) there was little agricultural production. Some—but not all—of these assumptions were challenged by Kemp, O’Connor, and Frandsen in influential papers.11 In the late 1980s and early 1990s a number of major publications of material from the UNESCO campaign added considerable detail to that already known, but also offered some challenges to the conventional interpretation. From the 1980s onwards there has been considerably more survey and excavation south of the Third Cataract: Egyptian temples have been identified at Dokki in the northern part of Kerma, and a strong interaction with Egypt is now revealed in the material from Tumbos; the survey of the Dongola Reach, however, has not found New Kingdom Egyptian material. A Different Model for New Kingdom Wawat and Kush The present writer presented a model for “Nubia” under Egyptian control during the New Kingdom arguing that the rise of the Kushite kingdom should be viewed as a post-imperial, and to an extent post-colonial, phenomenon.12 This model was not enthusiastically 11  P.J. Frandsen, “Egyptian imperialism”, in: Power and Propaganda. A Symposium on ancient empires, M.T. Larsen, ed. (Mesopotamia 7; Copenhagen, 1979), 167–190; B.J. Kemp, “Imperialism and empire in New Kingdom Egypt (c. 1575–1087 BC)” in: Imperialism in the ancient world, P.D.A. Garnsey, C.R. Whittaker, eds. (Cambridge, 1978), 7–57; D. O’Connor, “The toponyms of Nubia and of contiguous regions in the New Kingdom”, Cambridge History of Africa I: From the earliest times to c. 500 BC (Cambridge, 1982), 925–940; Id., “New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period c. 1552–664 B.C.”, in B.G. Trigger, B.J. Kemp, D. O’Connor and A.B. Lloyd, Ancient Egypt, a Social History. Cambridge, 1983). 12  Original outline in R.G. Morkot, “Studies in New Kingdom Nubia 1. Politics, economics and ideology: Egyptian imperialism in Nubia”, Wepwawet 3 (1987), 29–49; Id., “Nubia in the New Kingdom: the limits of Egyptian control”, in: Egypt and Africa, W.V. Davies, ed. (London, 1991), 294–301; also in: Centuries of Darkness, P.J. James, et al. (London, 1991); various papers presented at conferences: Geneva 1991=R. Morkot, “The Nubian Dark Age”, in: Etudes Nubiennes II, Ch. Bonnet, ed. (Genève, 1994), 45–47; Berlin 1992=R. Morkot, “The origin of the ‘Napatan’ state. A contribution to T. Kendall’s main paper”, Studien zum Antiken Sudan. Akten der 7. Internationalen Tagung für meroitistische Forschungen vom 14. bis 19. September 1992 in Gosen/bei Berlin (Meroitica 15; Wiesbaden, 1999), 139–148; Lille 1994=R. Morkot, “The Economy of New Kingdom Nubia”, in: Actes de la VIIIe Conférence Internationale des Études Nubiennes (CRIPEL 17; Lille, 1995), 175–188; Id., “The Origin of the ­Kushite



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accepted.13 Arguments against the model emphasised that there had been little survey and excavation between the Third and Fourth cataracts, and that New Kingdom “sites” might yet be found there. One particular factor that stimulated my reassessment of the Egyptian frontier in Upper Nubia was the number and the nature of the “temple towns” (Soleb, Sedeinga, Sesebi, and Amara West) north of the Third Cataract balanced with the evidence from the region of the Third to Fourth Cataracts. South of the Third Cataract, the presence of Egyptian temples, artefacts, and inscriptions does not, in itself, mean the full absorption and integration of the region into the territories directly ruled by the Egyptian administration. Some Egyptologists have argued that the temple towns reflect an expansion—even programme of expansion—with new towns and increasing population, perhaps including “colonial” Egyptians, during the later 18th–20th dynasties. It is true that our archaeological knowledge of the Third to Fourth Cataract region is less than that further north, but the tombs at Soleb, and the inscribed material from Amara West townsite, show that these were at different times the seats of the ἰdnw—the Viceroy’s deputy. This is supported by the scenes in the tomb of Tutankhamun’s Viceroy, Huy. From this evidence we can state that the administrative centre for the province of Kush was Soleb during the reigns of Amenhotep III and Tutankhamun, and Amara from the reign of Ramesses II to the end of Egyptian rule in the late 20th Dynasty. Although no inscribed material from Sesebi names officials, the town may have been the key centre under Akhenaten. Sesebi was officially reoccupied in the reign of Sety I, although probably ceased to be the administrative centre as soon as Amara was completed. South of the Third Cataract there is New Kingdom evidence from Kerma and Kawa, but it is the nature of this material and that from Soleb and Amara that suggests a model for Egyptian control radically different to that generally assumed by earlier writers.

State: a response to the paper of László Török”, in: ibid., 229–242; Wenner-Gren 1997=R. Morkot, “Egypt and Nubia”, in: Empires. Perspectives from Archaeology and History, S.E. Alcock, T.N. D’Altroy, K.D. Morrison, C.M. Sinopoli, eds. (Cambridge, 2001), Chapter 9, 227–251. Also R. Morkot, The Black Pharaohs: Egypt’s Nubian rulers (London, 2000). 13  S.T. Smith, Wretched Kush: Ethnic Identities and Boundaries in Egypt’s Nubian Empire (London and New York, 2003), 94 supports the argument in detail but without any reference to this writer.

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Rather than full Egyptian administrative integration extending as far as the Fourth Cataract, the evidence suggests that the administrative border was at the Third Cataract, with the region between the Third and Fourth Cataracts left largely in the control of local elites. This would conform to the “colonial” model with an extension of the direct rule found in Wawat to the new “province” of Kush under the ἰdnw, and further south, local autonomy and the “elite emulation” and imperial model argued by Higginbotham for western Asia would have operated. The Egyptian officials directly involved would have been the Overseers of the Southern Foreign Lands (some of the local weru, the Viceroy, and the Chief of Bowmen of Kush), with the Royal Envoys also playing a role. This has repercussions in considering the administration and its officials. I propose that the “Overseers of Southern Foreign Lands” constituted a group of officials with responsibility for this area rather than, as in the older interpretation, the title being nothing more meaningful than a “poetic variant” on King’s Son of Kush. Some of the title holders are members of the indigenous elite. The model also has repercussions for understanding the economy: how did the Egyptians control the production of this region? How did they control cross-frontier traffic? I suggested that it may have been advantageous to them to use the local elites of Upper Nubia to do the work then paid as ἰnw and b¡kw with reciprocal gift-exchange, support for regimes, and defence against cross-frontier attack. This use of local power structures and control of peripheries has parallels elsewhere.14 To review the proposed model in more detail: Egypt defined its southern frontiers by use of natural features, originally the First Cataract, and later, with the Middle Kingdom occupation, the natural barrier of the Second Cataract. The 18th-Dynasty expansion south of the Second Cataract limited itself firstly at Tombos and the Third Cataract, and ultimately in the locality of Karoy. Most writers have identified Karoy with the Fourth Cataract region.15 The texts in the tomb of 14  Discussed at length in R. Morkot, “The Economy of New Kingdom Nubia”, CRIPEL 17 (1995), 175–188, and Id. in: Empires, S.E. Alcock, T.N. D’Altroy, K.D. Morrison, C.M. Sinopoli, eds.; cf. the model for the Asiatic empire discussed by C.R. Higginbotham, Egyptianization and Elite Emulation in Ramesside Palestine. Governance and Accomodation on the Imperial Periphery (Leiden, 2000). 15  T. Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien (Lund, 1941), 156; Cl. Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis fondateur de la XVIIIe dynastie (Monographies Reine Elisabeth; Brussels, 1971), 65 n.6; K. Zibelius, Afrikanische Orts-und Völkernamen in ­hieroglyphischen



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Huy16 tell us that, at his investiture as Viceroy, Huy was given control of the regions ‘from Nekhen to Karoy’ and ‘from Nekhen to NesutTawy’. Generally, these have been understood as ‘poetic variants’, but they may define two different spheres of authority: Nekhen to NesutTawy (Gebel Barkal) indicating riverine Nubia, and Nekhen to Karoy the deserts and wadis as far as Kurgus. The southernmost Egyptian fortress, called Sm¡ ḫ ¡swt, was established at the Fourth Cataract by Thutmose III. After the campaign of his 3rd year, Amenhotep II had an Asiatic prince hung from the walls of the fortress which is now referred to in Egyptian texts as Napata. Later New Kingdom references to the fortress are few, and no archaeological remains have yet been located.17 Although it has been proposed that Napata functioned as a viceregal seat and the major administrative centre for Upper Nubia, there is no evidence to support this, and indeed, the evidence indicates the contrary. It has also been suggested that Napata served as both the frontier fortress and major depot for the transfer of products from further south,18 but the alternative model for the method of trade argued here assumes that was more directly controlled by the Kushite elites. In any case this would be a remarkably vulnerable location without a major fortress. Gebel Barkal certainly had religious importance due to its identification with the ‘Throne of the Two Lands’ and dwelling place of Amun. A sacred site in a remote place does not, however, predicate either a large temple and town, or a major cult and pilgrimage centre.19 The popularity, and hence wealth and importance, of centres such as the Amun oracle at Siwa belong to a later phase of religious development. A small temple (B 600) probably dates from the reign of Thutmose IV20 and the first larger temple, the eventual core of B 500, was begun by und hieratischen Texten (TAVO Beiheft Reihe B/1. Wiesbaden, 1972), 162–163; Kemp, “Imperialism and empire”, 29. 16  Davies and Gardiner, TheTomb of Huy, pl. VI. 17  A Ramesside (?) statue of an ἰdnw of Kush, found at Kawa, has a text referring to Amun-Re Lord of Thrones of the Two Lands ḥ ry ἰb d̠w wʿb: M.F.L. Macadam, The Temples of Kawa. I. The Inscriptions (London, 1949), 84 [inscr.XXII], pl. 36; Id., The Temples of Kawa. II. History and archaeology of the site (London, 1955), pl. LXXII [0895]. 18  Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien, 155; Kemp, “Imperialism and empire”, 28. 19  Many quite sizeable and well-decorated temples can be found associated with mining or quarrying sites e.g. Serabit el-Khadim, Timna, Wadi Mia. 20   Foundation deposit plaques: D. Dunham, The Barkal Temples (Boston, 1970), 63.

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Horemheb using talatat blocks of a temple of Akhenaten, and completed by Sety I and Ramesses II.21 The removal of the sculptures from Amenhotep III’s temple at Soleb to adorn the enlarged Amun temple (B 500),22 surely indicates that there had been no monumental statuary at Barkal to re-use. It is significant that such documentary sources as the tomb of Huy refer to Napata only as the limit of Viceregal authority, and to the officials of Kha-em-Maet (Soleb) and Sehetep-netjeru (Faras) as the leading towns of the regions. It should also be noted that no specifically Napatan officials are recorded in any known surviving New Kingdom source. Napata is not referred to in later New Kingdom sources, except in relation to Gebel Barkal.23 It has generally been assumed that, with the border established at the Fourth Cataract, the river valley northwards was all in control of the viceregal administration, under colonial rule, and Egyptianised.24 The more recent survey and archaeological work in the region between the Third and Fourth cataracts has had significant results. Grzymski carried out a detailed survey in the Letti Basin and found no Egyptian or Egyptianising material that was dateable to the New Kingdom, concluding that the area was occupied by a non-Egyptianised indigenous population.25 S.T. Smith has excavated at Tumbos and found far more complex mixtures of indigenous and Egyptian material and practices: both artefacts and burial positions suggested that there was a—perhaps gendered—difference in contemporaneous burials from the later 18th into 19th dynasties. Further south, a survey of the west bank identified a very few graves of New Kingdom date which produced some small quantities of Egyptian imported pottery and local

21   The re-use of talatat noted by Reisner suggests that Horemheb may have begun the work. The stela of Sety I must indicate construction was well advanced. 22   The inscription of Taharqo from Sanam Temple (F.Ll.Griffith, “Oxford excavations in Nubia [Sanam]”, LAAA 9 [1922], 67–124, on pp. 102–103) seems to refer to the removal of sculptures from Sai. A fragment of a throne of a seated statue carries a recarved cartouche with the name of Piye (ibid., 87, pl. XIII.3, pl. XV.1). 23  Named for the first time as the D̠ w wʿb n Npwt in the Thoth chapel at Abu Simbel. T. Kendall informs me that there are graffiti at Gebel Barkal, but these are unpublished and no further details are available. 24  E.g., Adams, Nubia: Corridor to Africa, 243. 25   K. Grzymski, Archaeological Reconnaissance in Upper Nubia (Toronto, 1987); Id., “Canadian expedition to Nubia: The 1994 season at Hanbukol and in the Letti Basin”, Kush 17 (1997), 236–243.



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versions; Reinhold and Welsby also found no colonial sites.26 Recent excavations at Dokki-Gel (north Kerma) have found a temple that can be dated to the reign of Thutmose IV by the foundation deposits, and perhaps has slightly earlier origins. Whilst the new material from Tombos emphasises the complex cultural interactions of the frontier region—and in the principal Kushite centre of Kerma—it does not, I think, challenge the model I propose. From earlier excavations, the most notable monument is the temple of Tutankhamun at Kawa. Although the inscriptions identify the town as Gem-Aten, no other Egyptian material has yet been found. It has been assumed that another Egyptian temple, built by Amenhotep III or Akhenaten lies beneath the later temple of Taharqo, but without further excavation, it is not possible to confirm that, and to place the Tutankhamun temple within a context. Even if, with presumed activity by Amenhotep III/Akhenaten, there was an Egyptian temple town, this may have been a short-lived phase. The cemetery of Sanam has produced some New Kingdom material. The present writer argued that there may have been a cemetery of the local elite during the New Kingdom, a view supported by Lohwasser’s reassessment of the material.27 New Kingdom material has also been identified in the graves at el-Kurru although the interpretations offered regard this as “pillage” from earlier burials or later imitation of New Kingdom types. Obviously, the geographical factors affected the Egyptian advance into Nubia and its control. Ultimately the Bayuda, and the difficulties of navigating the Nile between the Fourth and Fifth Cataracts, presented a barrier across which the Egyptians might campaign, but would have found integration very difficult. The Ruling Elite: Background and Education Although a few writers have characterised the New Kingdom elite as an hereditary aristocracy, Egyptological literature generally has been pervaded by the belief that it was possible to rise to the highest offices although born into the humblest classes of society. This attitude, which has been expressed in the publications of numerous inscriptions of 26  Smith, Wretched Kush, 89–94; J. Reinold, “S.F.D.A.S. Rapports préliminaire de la campagne 1991–1992 dans la province du Nord”, Kush 16 (1993), 142–68; D. Welsby, The Kingdom of Kush (London, 1996). 27  Morkot, Black Pharaohs, 138; A. Lohwasser, The Kushite Cemetery of Sanam. A Non-royal Burial Ground of the Nubian Capital, c. 800–600 BC (London, 2010).

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the highest officials of the New Kingdom is allied with an indiscriminate and undefined terminology. Even in recent works it is possible to read that Akhenaten appointed “new men”, and that the founders of the 19th Dynasty were “plebeian in origin”, despite the very definite meanings of both terms in Roman politics and society, whence they originate. This situation derives both from the attitudes which have dominated Egyptology and the difficulties imposed by the ancient material. At the most general level it is difficult to assess the implications of certain terms related to social status; and within the hierarchy there is no clear understanding of the many ‘honorifics’ held by officials, and whether they should be interpreted as “ranking titles”28 or merely “decorations”. A further contributory factor in Egyptological interpretation may derive from the tendency of Western historiography to place great emphasis on the growth of institutions and to play down the role of hereditary elites. Greater emphasis on the elites, their relationship to the king and to their own dependents, would dispute the concept of institutional independence. Hopkins29 emphasised the importance of the Roman nobility in palace politics, and the emperor’s limited capacity to ensure execution of his orders: the power of high officials could, for example, effect the failure of embassies to secure an audience. Discussions of palace politics in Egyptology have erred towards the Orientalist, with emphasis on phenomena such as “Harem conspiracy” or the influence of foreigners (usually seen as malign). Power in Egypt was in the hands of the literate, and, equally, the powerful controlled literacy. Didactic texts which laud the occupation of a scribe above all others are documents which would have been read only by those who were in fact scribes, or were training to become scribes. Any study of the Egyptian elite must acknowledge that literacy was the access to power, and that literacy was limited to perhaps as little as 1% of the population.30

 Some writers have interpreted the large number of titles as the stages of a cursus; cf. Reisner, “Viceroys” and the publications of many Theban tombs. 29   K. Hopkins, “Rules of Evidence”, JRS 68 (1978), 178–186, esp. 181. 30   J. Baines, Ch.J. Eyre, “Four notes on literacy”, GM 61 (1983), 65–96 although their conclusions are controversial; cf. comments of J.J. Janssen, “Literacy and letters at Deir el-Medina”, in: Village voices. Proceedings of the symposium “Texts from Deir el-Medina and their interpretation” Leiden, May 21–June 1, 1991, R.J. Demarée, 28



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In the New Kingdom there are indications of a more structured and professionalised hierarchy, with a tendency to specialise in one of the institutions, but all had the same elite education with its emphasis on writing. Whilst the elite doubtless kept the new art of chariotry as its own preserve, literacy remained the basis of elite education. Indeed, the narrative of the High Priest of Amun, Bakenkhons, suggests that the ‘stable’ was a type of military academy where writing was learnt alongside the equestrian arts. The expansion of the Egyptian ‘empire’ in the early 18th Dynasty must have led to a rapid expansion of the bureaucracy, and possibly necessitated drawing in new members to the elite. At the same time, the larger bureaucracy required to administer the foreign possessions and the royal and temple domains must have magnified the importance of the highest officials. Symbols of prestige thus became important to distinguish the ranks of bureaucrats: the social structure did not change, but the elite grew. The relationship of the king to the elite was emphasised through gift of prestige goods, which, whilst being a transfer of ‘luxury’ commodities, was part of a complex of mutual obligations. Although obviously significant, the economic aspects of gift-exchange were not necessarily the most important of the transaction. Prestige and status were also crucial to the elite. The public presentation of gifts, as at Amarna, also emphasises the importance of the official to the crown vis à vis the other ­officials—but also, of course, the reliance of the official upon the king. This system is well documented for New Kingdom Nubia. Whilst the Egyptian elite probably comprised an hereditary aristocracy of a relatively small number of families, there must have been input from the ‘lower’ strata, particularly in the period of the early-18th Dynasty expansion, but the extent and nature of this is indeterminable. Obviously, the most powerful officials were those closest to the throne but they were also the most vulnerable. The importance of the Royal Nurses and Tutors, and other palace officials, such as the Royal Stewards is clear from the size and splendour of their tombs and by their familial connections. A large number of the most important officials were sons of women who bore the title hkrt nswt, clearly a

A. Egberts, eds. (Centre for Non-Western Studies Publications n° 13; Leiden, 1992), 81–94.

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denominator of great significance.31 A number of Viceroys certainly had a palace background and education, and some were related to hkrt nswt, Royal Nurses, and other palace officials. The Career Structure It may be assumed that an official would not be appointed to a major office without some years’ service elsewhere. Bierbrier32 cites the evidence of the career of Bakenkhons as First Prophet of Amun who achieved his first religious position after four years at school, and 11 years in the stable of Sety I. He then served four years as a minor priest before being appointed a prophet, a position which he held for 12 years before becoming Third Prophet of Amun, and eventually rising to be Second and First Prophets. Bakenkhons was educated within the temple of Amun, where his father was Second Prophet. The Viceroy Setau, also of the reign of Ramesses II, was educated within the palace. His first position was in the office of the vizier, from which (according to his autobiographical text)33 he was appointed to be Steward of Amun at Thebes, and Leader of the Festival, and then to be Viceroy. The ἰdnw Amenemopet’s three-stage career likewise suggests a system in which ability was important.34 However, the apparent restriction of literacy to a small percentage of the population must indicate that birth was the most significant factor in gaining access to education and the bureaucracy. Even if patronage did play an important part, for very obvious reasons patrons would have needed to ensure the competence of their protégés. We may safely generalise that an official was the son of an official, whose own rank (‘major’ or ‘minor’ office holder) was only one factor affecting the ultimate success of his children. A cursory examination of families known over two or three generations shows that ‘major’

 A. Brack, A., “Discussionsbeitrag zu dem Titel ḥ krt nswt”, SÄK 11 (1984), 183–186.  M.L. Bierbrier, “The length of the reign of Sethos I”, JEA 58 (1972), 303; K. JansenWinkeln, “The career of the Egyptian High Priest Bakenkhons”, JNES 52 (1993), 221–225. 33  Cairo 41.395/41.397 (13476–77): W. Helck, “Die grosse Stele des Vizekönigs St¡w aus Wadi es-Sabua”, SÄK 3 (1975), 85–112; K. Kitchen, “The great biographical stela of Setau, Viceroy of Nubia”, in: Miscellanea in honorem Josephi Vergote, P. Naster, H. de Meulenaere, J. Quaegebeur, eds. (OLP 6–7; Leuven, 1975–76), 295–302; E.F. Wente, “A new look at the Viceroy Setau’s autobiographical inscription”, in: Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar II (BdE XCVII/2; Cairo, 1985), 347–359. 34   Urk IV 1935 (725). 31 32



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officeholders (e.g. high priesthoods, overseer titles, vizier, stewards etc.) may have a large number of relatives who are only ‘minor’ officeholders (e.g. scribal positions, lesser priestly titles).35 In the late 18th and 19th Dynasties, education, in one of the palace or temple schools, was, apparently followed by a period in the royal stables. Since Bakenkhons records only 4 years at ‘School’ compared with 11 years in the ‘Stables’, this was surely a place where education was continued, but where chariotry was also learned. It is likely that the chariotry corps was formed from the younger members of the elite—those who had completed their education but had not yet been appointed to their first offices. There is no clear evidence for any form of ‘military service’ but this too seems probable: the titles ḥ ry ἰḥ w, ḥ ry ssmwt and ‘charioteer of his majesty’ are common at this time, and might apply to such young officials; the Viceroy Huy is accompanied by four sons, some of whom use these titles. There is no direct evidence for how this education and training system worked in Nubia. Certainly sons of the ruling weru were taken to the Egyptian court and educated there, but the slighter lower levels were presumably educated within the Viceregal centres and schools attached to temples. We consequently have no means of assessing levels of literacy within Egyptianised Nubia. Nor can we determine what proportion of the lower level of the Nubian administration came from Egypt and how much from Nubia. The tomb of Pennut at Mi‘am (Aniba) suggests that within Wawat the Egyptian system operated, and (whatever the origins of this family) key families controlled the important offices for several generations. The impact on the regions at and beyond the border is even harder to assess, but is important in post imperial/colonial developments. The Development and Structure of the Viceregal Bureaucracy The Egyptian expansion into Lower Nubia in the reigns of Kamose and Ahmose was against territories which had been controlled by the Kushite kingdom of Kerma throughout the Second Intermediate Period. The Kushite rulers had installed Egyptian overseers in the fortresses of Buhen, and possibly in others, and there was an Egyptian or Egypto-Kushite population in these centres. Nothing further is known 35   The well-documented family of Rekhmire, for example, held the vizierate for three generations, but most of the family were “minor” office-holders.

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of the local socio-political composition at this date, although it seems probable that the princedoms which are attested later already existed, perhaps as vassals of the Kerma chiefs. This system must have had its own bureaucracy, and bilingual ‘scribes’: the communication between the Kerma and Hyksos rulers, and with the Egyptians of the fortresses, was presumably carried out in Egyptian. There is no evidence for any indigenous language being written at this time. This, of course, raises numerous unanswerable questions about the administration and accounting of foreign trade in the Kerma period.36 The changing power configurations of the princedoms of Lower Nubia during the late Old-Kingdom37 should serve as an indicator of the dynamic nature of Nubian society, even though the supporting documentary evidence is invariably absent. The continued existence of a ‘chiefdom’ as a territorial unit does not, of course mean that the chiefs were not replaced by others more amenable to the Egyptian administration. Since Lower Nubia had a fairly substantial population the imposition of some sort of civil administration at an early date was clearly imperative, and there is a strong likelihood that a Viceroy, Tety, was appointed by Kamose.38 The activities of the early 18th Dynasty pharaohs were initially military, and centred upon the re-occupied or newly-constructed fortresses. The relationship between the Egyptian administration and the indigenous population in Lower Nubia outside of the fortresses is, during this period, elusive. There was doubtless an increasing involvement, and by the co-reign of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III, members of the indigenous elite families were employed in the administration. The reign of Amenhotep II or Thutmose IV saw the emergence of   For the Kerma kingdom see T. Säve-Söderbergh, “The Nubian kingdom of the Second Intermediate Period”, Kush 4 (1956), 54–61; Vandersleyen, Les guerres d’Amosis, 51–52; Ch. Bonnet, Kerma, royaume de Nubie (Genève, 1990). For the history of Buhen in the SIP: H.S. Smith, The Fortress of Buhen II. The Inscriptions (London, 1976), 80–85, and for the officials see 73–76. For Middle Kingdom Egyptian administration and the evidence for trade and diplomacy with Kerma see D. Valbelle, “Les Institutions égyptiennes en Nubie au Moyen Empire d’après les empreintes de sceaux”, in: Actes de la VIIIe Conférence Internationale des Études Nubiennes (CRIPEL, Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et Egyptologie de Lille 17. I: Communications principales; Lille, 1995), 149–166. 37  Discussed by D. O’Connor, “The locations of Yam and Kush and their historical implications”, JARCE 23 (1986), 27–50 and “Early states along the Nubian Nile”, in: Egypt and Africa, Davies, W.V., ed. (London, 1991) 145–165. 38  W.K. Simpson, Hekanefer and the dynastic material from Toshka and Arminna (New Haven, Yale, 1963), 32sq. 36



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the mature Viceregal bureaucracy, when the ἰdnw were defined as “of Kush” and “of Wawat”, and a dual system was established for the two parts of Nubia. This was almost certainly a conscious re-organisation rather than simply a development. The New Kingdom administration divided Nubia into two civil regions, Wawat and Kush, with—it is proposed here—a frontier zone under control of the militia and indigenous rulers. The cities were governed by ḥ ¡ty-ʿ-mayors and the office of “Overseer of the towns of Kush” is also documented. At about this time also the Viceregal title became s¡ nsw n K¡š.39 Although the alteration of title has been suggested to be a way of distinguishing a royal prince from the likename Viceroy, it is perhaps more likely that it reflects some change within the Egyptian administration: at about the same time the highest officials are grouped with the title t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt.40 No major changes can be seen in the later phases of the Egyptian domination. Although disputed by many writers, I would argue that the viceregal bureaucracy was controlled very largely by Nubian families, whether of indigenous, Egyptian, or mixed origin, with only the highest officials being appointed directly from Egypt. In its reorganised form the Viceregal bureaucracy seems to have deliberately paralleled Egypt’s dual administration. As in Egypt there were several distinct, but interdependent, branches: 1. The civil administration, under the King’s Son of Kush (Viceroy), ἰdnw and ḥ ¡ty-ʿ (Mayors) of towns. 2.  The gold mines and foreign trade. 3. Agricultural production. 4. The religious foundations, controlled by the Overseers of Prophets of all the gods of Ta-Sety. 5.  The military, under the ḥ ry pd̠t n K¡š. 6. The Peripheries: the Overseers of Southern Foreign Lands ἰmy-r ḫ ¡swt rsyt. 7.  The indigenous princedoms of Wawat and Kush.

39   The first s¡ nsw n Kš was Amenhotep, who served Thutmose IV. Various reasons have been suggested for the change in the title see e.g. Reisner, “Viceroys”, 32. 40  On this title see I. Pomorska, Les flabellifères à la droite du roi dans l’Égypte ancienne (Warsaw, 1984).

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robert morkot The Officials of the Administration 1. The Civil Administration

The Viceroy—s¡ nsw n K¡š Reisner published a list of Viceroys and their monuments, which has been considerably expanded by the survey and excavation work in Nubia, and the better publications of many inscriptions recorded by early visitors. It is unlikely that many additions will be made to the list of known New Kingdom Viceroys.41 There is now evidence that the title continued in use throughout the Third Intermediate Period, but probably with a more limited jurisdiction: this is discussed below. The Viceroy was a royal official and he was directly responsible to the king. Thus, although his duties in many ways paralleled those of the Viziers, the title must imply that Wawat and Kush were considered to be part of the royal possessions. The earliest Viceroys were designated simply s¡ nsw but from the time of Thutmose IV they were specified as s¡ nsw n K¡š. In his tomb, the Viceroy Huy is shown being appointed to office in the presence of Tutankhamun.42 He is invested with the seal of office, and the Treasurer announces his sphere of jurisdiction.43 Huy also receives the rolled-up sash and the ḫ wἰ-fan, indicative of his elevation to the rank of t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt. Although the act is not shown, and the texts do not refer to it, the scenes reveal that during the investiture Huy has also been decorated with the šbyw-collars and ­msktw-bracelets, indicating his elevated status, and he has received floral bouquets. The distribution of gifts to the officials of the administration is also noted in the greeting of Huy by the ἰdnw on his arrival in Nubia: “you are come loaded with the ḥ sw-rewards of the ḥ q¡-ruler”.44 The appointment to a new office was thus a time when an official would receive largesse from the king which would then be passed on to the local officials. After his installation Huy proceeds to the temple with his family, where he makes offerings, and then departs for Nubia on the Viceregal ship. The accompanying texts45 make it certain that the ceremony has  Cf. Schmitz, Untersuchungen, 267–272 (list: 270–272); Habachi, LÄ III, 630–640.  Davies and Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, 10–13, pls. IV–VIII. 43  Davies and Gardiner 1926, The Tomb of Huy, p.11 n.2. 44  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, 17, pls. XIII, XXXIX.6. 45  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, pl. XI. 41 42



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taken place in Thebes and the installation of an official of this rank in the royal presence is to be expected. Huy is greeted on his arrival in Nubia by the chief officials of the administration and of the principal administrative centre of the reign, Sehetep-netjeru (Faras).46 Further light is shed on the events surrounding the accession of a Viceroy by inscriptions of the reign of Siptah. Those of year 1, at Abu Simbel,47 and at Buhen,48 mark the installation of Sety as Viceroy. Sety was conducted on this first tour of duty by the royal envoy Neferhor, who also brought ḥ sw-rewards for the ḥ ¡wtyw of Ta-Seti; doubtless some form of accession largesse (bakhsheesh). A second group of texts from Siptah’s reign probably records the installation of Hori as Viceroy, by Aipy son of Nayebo49 in year 6. It was in that year that Hori’s son, the royal envoy Webekhusen left an ex voto in the South Temple at Buhen.50 A graffito on Sehel,51 depicting both father and son, may have been carved whilst travelling south to take up his appointment. The appointment scenes in the tomb of Huy inform us that by the late 18th Dynasty the Viceroy’s jurisdiction extended from Nekhen (Hierakonpolis) to the region of the Fourth-Fifth Cataracts, specified as Nesut-tawy (Gebel Barkal) and Karoy. This may, as O’Connor suggested, have been to include the gold-mining regions of Upper Egypt under Viceregal control. O’Connor dates this to the time of Amenhotep III and the Viceroy Merymose, but as early as the reign of Thutmose III the Viceroy Nehi may have controlled from Nekhen southwards. The specific extent of control from Nekhen to Nesut-tawy, and from Nekhen to Karoy, probably indicate control of the river, and of the deserts and routes to the Berber-Shendi reach. The extent to which the Viceroy had any authority in the valley towns of Upper Egypt, and how that authority related to that of the Vizier, is undocumented.52

 Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, pl. XIII–XV.  PM VII: 98 (9); Säve-Söderbergh, Ägypten und Nubien, 242 n.2, Rekhpahtef, who is named in the Abu Simbel graffito, also left an inscription at Buhen, ST 3: R.A. Caminos, The New-kingdom temples of Buhen (London, 1974), 19–20. 48  ST 6 W: Caminos, The New-kingdom temples of Buhen I, 26–27. 49  ST 35 E: Caminos, The New-kingdom temples of Buhen I, 75–76. 50  ST Col 14 E: Caminos, The New-kingdom temples of Buhen I, 42. 51  Gasse, Rondot, Séhel, 253 [SEH 403]; L. Habachi, “The graffiti and work of the Viceroys of Kush in the region of Aswan”, Kush 5 (1957), 13–36, 34–35 [37]. 52  O’Connor 1981, 259; Id. “The location of Irem”, JEA 73 (1987), 99–136, p.187; see also comments of Säve-Söderbergh, Troy, New Kingdom Pharaonic sites, p. 4. 46 47

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Many Egyptologists have regarded the Viceroys as primarily military officials. Kadry,53 for example, commented that their responsibilities “being mainly of military nature . . . left no room for civil officials of the Theban families to occupy this office”. There are no texts which specify the duties of the Viceroy, but these seem, contrary to Kadry and others, to have been predominantly civil; particularly the collection of the revenues, and control of the gold production. They were also responsible for the building of temples. Viceroys were not, after the early 18th Dynasty, specifically military officials, although they are sometimes recorded as leading campaigns; as part of an elite which combined military and bureaucratic education, this is not in any way contradictory. The militia appears to have been directly under the ḥ ry pd̠t, and there may have been a division of authority for very practical reasons. Priestly titles were rarely held by Viceroys during the 18th Dynasty, ἰt nt̠r mry nt̠r, being the most usual. A number of rock inscriptions in Nubia name Ahmose Turo with the titles Temple Scribe, God’s Father, Overseer of the Cattle, Mayor and First Prophet (sš ḥ wt nt̠r ἰt nt̠r ἰmy-r ἰḥ w ḥ ¡ty-ʿ ḥ m nt̠r tpy). Gauthier and Habachi attributed these inscriptions and titles to the Viceroy, but assumed that they belonged to the period before his appointment, but were divided as to whether these functions were performed in Egypt or Nubia. In the 19th and 20th Dynasties more Viceroys held specific priesthoods, but even then it was far from regular.54 As in Egypt, it was the High Priests of the temples who deputised for the king. Doubtless the responsibilities of the Viceroy in relation to the numerous temple-building works would have required him to hold some form of priestly office. Whether Viceroys were mostly resident in Egypt, as some have suggested,55 or in Nubia, is unclear and doubtless changed over time. The early Viceroys, who were predominantly military and active in regaining control of Wawat and the Second Cataract, followed by a push south, would have made Buhen their centre. Under Thutmose III, Nehi was very active at Sai, and Smith suggested, on the basis of jar  A. Kadry, Officers and officials in the New Kingdom (Studia Aegyptiaca VIII; Budapest, 1982), 10. Turo was t̠sw n Bhn, but later Viceroys used epithets such as qn n ḥ m.f. 54  Wentawat was ḥ m nt̠r tpy n ’Imn-n-Rʿms.s and ḥ m nt̠r tpy n ’Imn-h̠nmt-W¡st (usually equated with the Ramesseum, but possibly Amara West). 55  E.g. Säve-Söderbergh, Troy, New Kingdom Pharaonic sites, followed by Higginbotham, Egyptianization and Elite Emulation. 53



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sealings, that he had made Buhen one of his bases. Viceroys of the later New Kingdom, with a different agenda, were presumably in constant progress throughout their domains, and must have regularly visited the court to present the ἰnw and to report to the king. AmenhotepHuy 1 possessed a house at Thebes,56 and similarly, the presence of the (unnamed) Viceroy at the head of the funeral procession of the Vizier Ramose, indicates his importance amongst the Upper Egyptian ­officials.57 Whether the Viceroy (probably Dhutmose) was actually present at Ramose’s funeral is irrelevant: he and three other officials form a group, followed by the “Companions” and “Chiefs of the City”. The three officials are the First Royal Herald, the Overseer of the Treasury and the Second Royal Herald, emphasising the Viceroy’s rank as a royal official. Royal visits to Thebes to celebrate such major festivals as the Opet, would have been a time when the Viceroy presented the ἰnw, reported on affairs in Nubia, and received royal directives. A relief in Luxor temple shows the presentation of ἰnw to Ramesses II, the accompanying text stating that the ἰmy-r ḫ ¡swt rsyt mḥ yt were responsible.58 The evidence for royal visits to Kush is limited to reports of military activities, although they may have been more frequent. An accession tour might be expected, although this was usually accompanied by a display of military strength to quell the “rebellion” which is often reported. Nubia probably lacked the city-specific festivals, such as Opet, which were usually celebrated by the king in person and it is likely that any royal religious visits related to the sed-festival. The Viceroy Paser 2 is stated to have been at the fortress of Senmet (the First Cataract), and this doubtless served as a major base, as it had in the Old Kingdom. Family and Previous Careers of Viceroys As is usual for elite families throughout the 18th Dynasty, information about the families of Viceroys is extremely limited. There can be little doubt, however, that they were invariably appointed from the elite families, and probably those most closely connected with the

56   From the literal reading of the tomb scene Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, 26, pl. XXIII (from Lepsius). 57  N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Ramose (Oxford, 1941), pl. XXVII. 58  PM II 308 Higginbotham, Egyptianization and Elite Emulation, 38.

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­ alace. Usersatjet was son of a s¡b and a hkrt nswt, Nenwenhirmentes,59 p and himself bore the title h̠ rd n k¡p, indicating an upbringing in the palace.60 In Shrine 11 at Silsila he is associated with a Royal Nurse and with an Overseer of the King’s Apartments in Thebes.61 All of these factors emphasise Usersatjet’s close connections with the palace from his childhood onwards. The title s¡b doubtless indicates little more than that his father was an official, and suggestions that this epithet was given to men “of humble origins” can probably be discounted. Usersatjet seems to have been a Royal Steward at some stage of his career.62 Of other Viceroys with close palace connections, Amenhotep-Huy 1 was possibly related to the Steward of Queen Tiye at Amarna and may have been a wpwty nsw prior to his appointment. The title appears in his tomb, and he is shown presenting the ‘tribute’ of the northern foreign lands. Huy’s mother is depicted among his extended family in his tomb, as a woman with white hair. Her name, Wenhir, is attested only once elsewhere, in the tomb of the Chief Steward of Queen Tiye at Akhetaten, Huya. There she is clearly a close relative of Huya, but the relationship is unstated. It is possible that the name is an abbreviation of one such as Nenwenhirmentes. Although the identification of Huya’s relative with Huy’s mother is speculative, the palace associations accord with the likely background for a Viceroy. Setau was educated within the palace and may have been related to one of the most influential family groups of the reign of Ramesses II, which also included the Viceroy Paser 2.63 Setau was appointed as scribe to the Vizier in charge of tax and was then elevated to become 59  Silsila Shrine II: R.A. Caminos, T.G.H. James, Gebel es-Silsilah I. The Shrines (London, 1963), 30–34, pl. 25; statue from Deir el-Medina: Urk. IV 1287–1289 (462). 60  Caminos, James, Gebel es-Silsilah I, 30–34. 61   The relationship between the various individuals represented in the Shrine is not clear. The statues depicted Usersatjet and his mother, with the Overseer of the King’s Apartments, Senynufe, and his wife Hatshepsut and the Great Nurse and Fosterer of the King, Hentowe. Reliefs depicted the Prophet of Khnum, and High Priest of Harwer and Sobek, and the son of the High Priest of Nekhbet. These titles relate to Aswan (or, perhaps less likely, Esna?), el Kab and Kom Ombo, to the north and south of Silsila. Without further information it is impossible to assess whether the presence of these dignitaries indicates a powerful group of intermarried elite families or simply the nearest shrines to Silsila. 62  On the stela from Buhen, BM EA 623: Urk. IV 1486–1487 (460), Usersatjet is called ἰmy-r pr Mr-tm (Medum). 63  See Reisner, “Viceroys”, 41, 45–46; H. Gauthier, “Une fondation pieuse en Nubie” ASAE 36 (1936), 49–71; KRI III 74–76; for their connection with the High Priests of



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Steward of Amun. This, one of the key offices of the New Kingdom, was usually the pinnacle of a career, and Setau had his tomb (TT289) in Dra Abu el-Naga with most of his funerary equipment, made with that title, and that of “Leader of the Festival”. Setau was, however, elevated further. His numerous monuments are remarkably reticent about family connections, apart from naming his wife, Mutnofret. The name Setau may have a connection with el-Kab, and Mutnofret was wrt h̠ nr of Nekhbet. The leading family of the town in the 20th Dynasty was that of Setau, High Priest of Nekhbet, perhaps a descendant or member of the same extended family.64 Further connections may be indicated by the family monument of the Chief of the Madjoy, Amenemone. This includes Amenemone’s sister, who was married to the Steward of Amun: the names of both are lost, but considering the dating of the monument, Setau is certainly a strong candidate. The extent of the Amenemone family’s power in Upper Egypt is well documented, stretching from their family seat at Tjeny, with offices and marriage connections in Akhmim, Abydos, Dendera, and Thebes. There is a possibility that one of the sisters of Amenemone was a wife of Ramesses II (perhaps Queen Isetnofret). If this was the case, it raises the question whether the family’s power (and elevation of the father to the rank of High Priest of Amun) was due to the marriage connection, or whether the new royal family wished to ally itself with a powerful Upper Egyptian family. Certainly Amenemone and Ramesses II were close contemporaries and associates. Other members of this extended family were the Viceroy Paser 2, who left few monuments in Nubia, but is named on the family monument of Amenemone, and the ḥ ry pd̠t n K¡š Pennesuttawy whose son Minnakht, and grandson Anhurnakht succeded him in the same office.65 Ahmose Turo, who served Amenhotep I and Thutmose I, was son of Ahmose Sa-Tayit, who is also given the title of Viceroy on monuments, although it is not clear that he actually held the office. Unusually, several monuments attest Ahmose Turo’s own grandsons and great-grandson: these show that the family served in priestly offices

Anhur see B.M. Bryan, “The career and family of Minmose, high priest of Onuris”, CdE LXI/121–122 (1986), 50–60. 64  An earlier Setau, of the reign of Amenhotep III, left a stela dedicated to Amun and Nekhbet. 65   L. Habachi, “The owner of tomb 282 in the Theban necropolis”, JEA 54 (1968), 107–113.

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at Thebes.66 A depiction of the Viceroy Turo in the Silsila shrine of Rekhmire’s father the Vizier Amatju, suggests a possible connection with another highly influential family.67 Ahmose Turo was Commandant of Buhen before his appointment as Viceroy. The Viceroys Huy 2 and Hori were appointed from the ranks of the wpwty nsw.68 The Viceroy Nehi uses the title “First Royal Herald”, but whether this indicates a position prior to his appointment is unknown. Our knowledge of wives of Viceroys is minimal and it is difficult even to cite examples, much less to make generalizations. One of the few known is Mutnofret, the wife of Setau.69 Mutnofret bore the title wrt h̠ nr of Nekhbet, Chantress of Amun and wrt h̠ nr of Amun. The last two titles derive from her husband’s office of Steward of Amun, which he held before his appointment as Viceroy. Setau is not, so far, recorded as possessing a priestly title associating him with Nekhbet, although he did dedicate a chapel at el-Kab.70 Mutnofret’s position as wrt h̠ nr of Nekhbet is not to be connected with her husband’s viceregal funtion, and may reflect a family association with el Kab.71 Setau’s tomb is at Thebes, but this, along with some of his burial equipment72 was made whilst he served in the city as Steward of Amun and Leader of the Festival. Much more difficult to interpret is the evidence relating to Taemwadjsy, variously suggested to have been the wife of AmnhotepHuy 1, of the ḥ ry pd̠t n K¡š Khaemwaset or of the Viceroy Paser 1.73 66   L. Habachi, “The first two Viceroys of Kush and their family”, Kush 7 (1959), 45–62. 67  Caminos, James, Gebel es-Silsilah I, no 17. 68  Hori is attested in this capacity before his appointment as Viceroy. 69   L. Habachi, “Setau, the famous Viceroy of Ramses II and his career”, CHE 10 (1967), 51–68 discussed this woman and speculated that she was related to Ramesses II. 70  Ph. Derchain, El Kab I. Les monuments religieux à l’entrée de l’Ouady Hellal (Brussels, 1971), pl. 28–30. 71   The name occurs at el-Kab, where a High Priest of Nekhbet was buried in the reign of Ramesses III (on his family see M.L. Bierbrier, The Late New Kingdom in Egypt [Warminster, 1975], 11–12, 17–18). 72  TT 289; some of the funerary equipment see L. Habachi, “Miscellanea on Viceroys of Kush and their assistants buried in Dra Abu el-Naga, south”, JARCE 13 (1976), 113–116, on pp. 113–114; the sarcophagus, BM EA 78 see M.L. Bierbrier, The British Museum. Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae etc., Part 10 (London, 1982), 20, pls. 42–43. 73  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, 7; Macadam, The Temples of Kawa I, 4; L. Bell, “Aspects of the cult of the deified Tutankhamun”, Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar I (BdE XCVII/1; Cairo, 1985), 31–59, on p. 43 n 8.



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­Taemwadjsy carries the titles of wrt h̠ nr of Amun and wrt h̠ nr of Nebkheperure in Sehetep-netjeru. Although the evidence is equivocal, the simplest reading would make her the wife of the Viceroy Huy 1 and mother of the Viceroy Paser 1. She was perhaps also the mother of the ḥ ry pd̠t Khaemwaset. If this is the correct interpretation, it would give three generations of Viceroys-Huy 1, Paser 1, and Amenemopet—in one family, along with a ḥ ry pd̠t, and perhaps also a Prophet of Nebkheprure in Sehetep-netjeru, Merymose. Both Mutnofret and Taemwadjsy set up monuments in their own right,74 and the importance of such women would seem to be confirmed by the occurrence of the otherwise extremely rare name Taemwadjsy at Mi‘am in the early 19th Dynasty.75 Some relatives of Viceroys are known to have held offices in Nubia, the clearest example being the three generations of ḥ ry pd̠t who were cousins of the Viceroy Paser 2. Amongst the officials who greet Amenhotep-Huy 1 on his arrival in Nubia is the Second Prophet of Nb-h̠ prw-Rʿ in Sehetep-netjeru, Merymose.76 This priest is described as “his brother” (sn.f ), and as Gardiner pointed out, this must refer to Huy as the most significant person in the tomb and the scene. Gardiner was cautious as to whether actual brotherhood was meant, but did suggest that this man was named after the viceroy of Amenhotep III: indeed it is possible that there was a family relationship between the two Viceroys.77 Sons of Viceroys may have acted as deputies for their fathers, or accompanied them in an official capacity: Amenemhab son the Viceroy Sety, served as ἰdnw,78 although more usually sons held their own offices such as wpwty nsw79 or bore chariotry titles, suggesting that they were young officials with no specific job allocations.80

  The offering bowl and blocks from a chapel at Faras, J. Karkowski, Faras V: The Pharaonic Inscriptions (Warsaw, 1981), 130–136 [74–79], 89–90 [8], were dedicated by Taemwadjsy. A stela from Sebua was dedicated by Mutnofret: L. Habachi, “Five stelae from the temple of Amenophis III at el-Sebua now in the Aswan Museum”, Kush 8 (1960), 45–52, esp. 47–48 and 49, fig. 3. 75  Shabtis from tombs SA 37 and S 57 at Aniba, Steindorff, Aniba II, 78, 85. The titles on these differ from those held by Huy’s wife. 76  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, pl. XV. 77  However, we know nothing of the family of Amenhotep III’s Viceroy, despite a large number of surviving monuments. 78  PM VII: 89; KRI IV 166[d]. 79  E.g. Webekhusen son of Hori. 80  E.g. Amenemopet son of Paser 1. 74

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A number of Viceroys81 and Chief of Bowmen of Kush82 were buried at Thebes, but this does not necessarily indicate that it was their town of origin. The concentration of 18th-dynasty tombs in the necropolises of Thebes and Memphis has somewhat obscured the role of “lesser” and “provincial” centres and the importance of the elite families within them. The late New Kingdom furnishes more examples of such families, most notably the Hori family which, serving from the reign of Siptah into the 20th Dynasty, originated in Per-Bastet. There the family tomb has been excavated,83 and an unusual group of rock inscriptions at Nag Abidis84 apparently records the procession taking the body of the elder Hori to his home-town for burial. The family’s association with Per-Bastet and their devotion to its patron deity, are affirmed by their inscriptions which include the city’s eponymous goddess. Priestly titles of the family of Wentawat suggest that Asyut was their home town.85 The Viceroys Messuy and Sety were both buried at Mi‘am which, although not conclusive evidence, suggests that they may have belonged to elite Nubian families:86 Sety’s son, Amenemhab, served as idnw, an office which seems otherwise to belong to the Nubian elite. Duties of Viceroys It is clear that the duties and functions of the Viceroys changed throughout the long span of the Egyptian domination. The earliest Viceroys were responsible for reasserting Egyptian control over 81  Seni, funerary cones, N. de G. Davies, M.F.L. Macadam, A Corpus of inscribed funerary cones. Part 1. Plates (Oxford, 1957), 342–343. Nehi, sarcophagus, Berlin 17.895, pyramidion and shabtis. Merymose TT 383: PM I.2; Huy 1 TT 40: Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy; Anhotep TT 300: PM I.2, 208; Habachi, “Miscellanea on Viceroys”, 114. Setau TT 289: PM I.2, 369. 82  Anhurnakht TT 282 and Pennesuttawy TT 156: Habachi, “The owner of tomb 282”; Id., “Miscellanea on Viceroys”. 83  H. Gauthier, “Un Vice-roi d’Ethiopie enseveli à Bubastis”, ASAE 28 (1928), 129– 137; L. Habachi, Tell Basta (ASAE Cahier 22; Cairo, 1957), 100. 84  Z. Žaba, The Rock Inscriptions of Lower Nubia, Czechoslovak Concession (Prague, 1974), 136–142 n° 101–115. 85   Three female relatives of the Viceroy were chantresses of Wepwawet, recorded on stela BM EA 792: Bierbrier, Hieroglyphic Texts Part 10, 20–21[2]. 86  Messuy tomb SA 36: Steindorff, Aniba II, 21, 58, pls. 7, 34, jamb, faience plaque; note also shabti from cemetery 152 at Wadi es-Sebua: W.B. Emery, L.P. Kirwan, The Excavations and Survey between Wadi es-Sebua and Adindan, 1929–1931 (Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte. Mission archéologique de Nubie, 1929–1934; Cairo, 1935), 103–104; Sety tomb SA 34: Steindorff, Aniba II, 84, pl.32, 23 shabtis.



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Wawat and refortifying Buhen, before establishing the new fortress on Sai: their functions were therefore largely military. The evidence from the early 18th Dynasty is not precise as to the activities, although in Wawat there were significant temple constructions within the fortresses, at Amada, rock cut chapels at Ellesiya and Ibrim, and extensive construction work at Mi‘am. Further south, the fortress of Sai was the focus of activity, with a later rock-cut shrine at Gebel Dosha. The fortress of Sm¡-ḫ ¡swt near Gebel Barkal was founded by Thutmose III, and there is a possibility of some early-mid-18th Dynasty activity at Sesebi and Amara. Later Viceroys were occasionally involved in military activities: Setau states that he captured Libyans in one of the oases of Wawat who were put to work constructing the temple of Wadi es-Sebua. The main function of the Viceroy that we have attested from the mid-18th Dynasty onwards is the collection and presentation of the “tribute” and the gold resources. One of the major scenes in the tomb of Huy shows him receiving gold, weighed and recorded by named scribes. A small number of additional documents shed light on the Viceroy’s activities. The Ostracon Gardiner 362 relating to preparations for the Opet Festival records a letter of the village Scribe of Deir el Medina, Ramose, to the Royal Scribe and Overseer of Cattle, Hatiay. It records that the Viceroy Paser 2 is at the fortress of Senmet (the First Cataract), and refers to things being sent for the Opet Festival and to Nebseny, Mayor of Abu (Elephantine). This is significant in suggesting that things were specifically sent to the village, another institution directly associated with the palace, by the Viceroy for the celebration of a key Theban festival. A Viceroy (perhaps also Paser 2) was named on stela of the same scribe Ramose, from the village chapels at Deir el-Medina. Whilst it is dangerous to generalise for the entire period from one piece of evidence, the Viceroy Huy clearly had a large personal staff. He is depicted with his four sons; in addition, he has groups of rwd̠w and sd̠mw-ʿš, who were presumably seconded to do specific duties as and when required. The Viceroy’s personal secretaries are named in several scenes and also attested on other monuments, as is the Scribe of Gold. In addition there is evidence for the household officials commensurate with his rank: sailors, charioteers and stablemasters. A number of private monuments was dedicated to their superiors by members of the Viceregal staff.

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The administration maintained direct contact with the palace, its principal agents probably being the wpwty nsw,87 from whose ranks several Viceroys were drawn. A number of inscriptions of the reign of Siptah is particularly illuminating as to the activities of the wpwty nsw and their relationship to the Viceregal administration. The Viceroy Sety was conducted on his first tour of duty by the royal envoy Neferhor, and in year 3 of the same reign a delegation, led by Pyiay, arrived to receive the b¡kw of Kush.88 The Chancellor Bay accompanied the progress,89 which may have been met by the Viceroy Sety at Aswan.90 The dignitaries included Pyiay’s son, Amennakht,91 and the royal envoy Hori, son of Kema (himself a later Viceroy).92 The ἰdnw Originally designated simply ἰdnw or ἰdnw n s¡ nsw, these offices were later specified geographically as ἰdnw n K¡š and ἰdnw n W¡w¡t: this suggests a formalisation or restructuring of the system in the period of Amenhotep II-Amenhotep III. Variant forms are: ἰdnw n Nb-T¡wy, ἰdnw m T¡-Stἰ. The evidence from the cemeteries of Mi‘am in Lower Nubia and Kha-em-Maet (Soleb), the tomb of Huy and the settlement of Amara West in Upper Nubia show that, from the later 18th Dynasty onwards these towns, with Sehetep-netjeru (Faras) were the residence of the ἰdnw and principal administrative centres.93 The ἰdnw appear to have been drawn from the hierarchy within Nubia and not appointed from Egypt. In outlining the career path, the   Vallogia, Recherche sur les “messagers”.  ST Col 7W: Caminos, The New-kingdom Temples of Buhen I, 29–30. 89  Buhen ST 32: Caminos, The New-kingdom Temples of Buhen I, 72; cf. Smith, Buhen II. The inscriptions, 201. 90  Sehel inscription: De Morgan 1894: 86 (29); LD III 202b; Habachi, “Graffiti”, 33 [35]. Aswan-Shellal road inscription: J. de Morgan, Catalogue de monuments et inscriptions de l’Égypte antique I: De la frontière de Nubie à Kom Ombos (Wien, 1894), 28[6]; LD III 202c; Habachi, “Graffiti”, 34 [36]. 91  Who dedicated ST 11 E (Caminos, The New-kingdom Temples of Buhen I, 34) on behalf of his father. 92  ST 11 S (Caminos, The New-kingdom Temples of Buhen I, 34–35) and probably the ex voto ST 16 N (Id., ibid., 46–47) dated to this reign, but without year. The titles indicate before Hori’s elevation to the rank of Viceroy. 93  Burials of ἰdnw are known from Aniba and Soleb. Door jambs with the name of the ἰdnw n Kš Paser (temp Ramesses III) and the ἰdnw Sebakhau were found at Amara: Fairman, JEA 34 (1948), 9, pls. V.1, VI.4, see now P. Spencer, Amara West I. The Architectural Report (London, 1997), pls. 149–167. 87 88



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best-attested holder of the office is Amenemopet, who worked entirely within the Kushite administration: beginning as a “letter-writer” (personal secretary) to Merymose, he was advanced to be Comptroller of Works for Dhutmose, and ended his career as ἰdnw of Kush under Huy. Amenemopet left the record of his advancement at the temple of Ellesiya near Mi‘am, and he may have belonged to the elite of that town.94 His ultimate position saw him in control of Upper Nubia, and it was in the administrative capital at Soleb that he was buried.95 Pennut, ἰdnw of Wawat in the reign of Ramesses VI, was the son of an earlier ἰdnw, although there is insufficient evidence to demonstrate that he was descended from the Pennut who served as ἰdnw of Wawat in the reign of Ay.96 Pennut’s relatives held a number of priestly and scribal offices and certainly constituted the most important family in Mi‘am in the 20th Dynasty. It is impossible to know whether the name Pennut indicates a Theban origin for this family, although they were certainly resident in Wawat for several generations. The Mayors of Towns—ḥ ¡ty-ʿ The ḥ ¡ty-ʿ-Mayors are attested by their own monuments and by the scenes in the tomb of the Viceroy Amenhotep-Huy 1 and the chapel of the Viceroy Setau at Qasr Ibrim. Huy is greeted on his arrival in Nubia by the ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Sḥ tp-nt̠rw (Faras) and the ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Ḫ ʿ-m-M¡ʿt (Soleb), the seats of the two idnw. The chapel of Setau depicts a group of Mayors, but although their names are given, their towns are not named. From other monuments we know the ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Miam (Aniba), ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Bhn (Buhen), ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Šʿt (Shaat, Sai) and ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n Gm-p¡-’Itn (GemAten, Kawa). The duties and responsibilities of these officials were presumably the same as those of their equivalents in Egypt. Smith observes that the characteristically Middle Kingdom office of Commandant of Buhen (t̠sw n Bhn) was held by Ahmose Turo early in the 18th Dynasty, but was (perhaps immediately) replaced by the civil office of ḥ ¡ty-ʿ. At Buhen, the position of Mayor was sometimes held by the First Prophet of Horus of Buhen.

 PM VII: 91 (d-e); Reisner, “Viceroys”, 8sq.  M. Schiff Giorgini, Soleb. II. Les nécropoles (Firenze, 1971), 227 fig. 435, 234 fig. 451, 277 fig. 537. 96  PM VII: 76–77; Steindorff, Aniba II, 242–245. 94 95

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The Treasury A number of titles attest officials associated with the Treasury of the administration, although nothing details its workings. The head was variously styled ἰmy-r pr ḥ d̠, ἰmy-r pr ḥ d̠ m T¡-Stἰ, ἰmy-r pr ḥ d̠n nb t¡wy m Mἰʿm, ἰmy-r pr ḥ d̠ n nb t¡wy m T¡-Stἰ. The civil servants attached were the sš pr ḥ d̠ or sš pr ḥ d̠ n nb t¡wy m T¡-Stἰ. The Civil Service The bulk of the officials employed in the administration were civil servants, generally terms “Scribes” sš, often with additional designations for their particular departments, such as treasury, cattle, or gold counting. The scenes in the tomb of Huy show, as in Egypt, multiple accounts being taken of the various activities. The family monuments, such as the tomb of Pennut, also demonstrate that, as in Egypt, the majority of titles held in even the most powerful families were “modest” scribal positions. 2.  The Gold Mines and Foreign Trade Vercoutter discussed the gold production of Nubia in detail.97 The gold production was under the direct control of the Viceroy. The titles Overseer of Gold Lands of the Lord of the Two Lands, and Overseer of the Gold Lands of Amun, occur from the time of Merymose (under Amenhotep III) to the 20th Dynasty, but are used by only a few Viceroys and are even then infrequent on their monuments. This led Reisner to suggest that these were just “poetical or boastful” versions of “Overseer of the Southern Foreign Lands”. Scenes in the tomb of Huy show the Viceroy overseeing the collection and weighing of gold which is brought by men and women in small bags. The weighing and accounting is carried out by the Scribe of Gold Hornefer, the ḥ ry ἰḥ w, Hati, and the Viceroy’s secretary, Kha. At Tombos, the funerary cones in the large pyramid tomb of Siamun designate him a “Scribe of Gold”.98 In this case, the scale of the tomb and the additional titles, suggest that this man may have been a local ruler.   J. Vercoutter, “The Gold of Kush”, Kush 7 (1959), 120–153.  Smith, Wretched Kush, 138–66, figs. 6.4–6.6, gives the titles as ‘Scribe of the Treasury’ although there is no pr hieroglyph. 97 98



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The Nauri Decree of Sety I lists gold washers as part of the temple staff, along with “bargees, packers and foreign traders”. This is the only reference to “foreign traders” in a Nubian context.99 3.  Agricultural Production It has generally been assumed that the Egyptian redistributive economy was introduced in Nubia under the Egyptian rule, with the temples as key institutions in storage and distribution.100 This would have necessitated redistributing land partly, or completely, according to the Egyptian system: whether this was done in one move early in the years of the Egyptian occupation, or over a longer period of time is not documented. Some confirmation of this is found in the texts in the tomb of the ἰdnw Pennut at Mi‘am which give an indication of the pattern of landholding in the 20th Dynasty. They reveal a system that is very similar to that of Egypt, with institutions, individuals, and cult images all owning small fields. Numerous titles refer to Overseers of granaries or of cattle (sometimes specified as “of Amun”). Lower Nubia could not have been a large-scale arable producer and although the Kerma-Letti region is the most fertile region south of Silsila, it may have been given over to cattle—and perhaps horse—pasturing rather than arable production. As early as the reign of Thutmose III there are clear distinctions in the numbers of cattle sent to Egypt annually: averaging around 100 head from Wawat, but 300 from Kush. The Nauri Decree details the staff and animals attached to the local estates of the king’s House of Millions of Years “Heart’s Ease in Abydos”. These include bee-keepers, gardeners, vintners, fishermen, cattle, asses, geese, hounds, dogs, and goats. In addition, as noted above, the same temple had gold washers and foreign traders. Whilst some of the agricultural products may have found their way to Abydos, some must have been used locally as rations for the temple employees. A subscene in the tomb of Amenhotep-Huy 1 shows domestic animals being brought to the Viceroy with scribes recording the numbers: horses, cattle, geese, goats and donkeys.101   99   The primary publication is F. Ll. Griffith, “The Abydos decree of Seti I at Nauri”, JEA 13 (1927), 193–208. 100  Generally see Morkot, “The Economy of New Kingdom Nubia”. 101  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, pl. VIII; on horse-breeding in Kush see R.G. Morkot, “War and the Economy: the International ‘arms trade’ in the Late Bronze Age and after”, in: Egyptian Stories. A British Egyptological Tribute to Alan

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Temple building began very soon after the Egyptians reoccupied Buhen fort, additions being made in the reign of Ahmose. A temple was constructed in the new fortress established on Sai in the reign of Ahmose, and new temples and cults are one of the most obvious surviving features of the Egyptian occupation. As with all other aspects of the administration, the evidence for the priestly offices is patchy, and generally richer from the later phases. Allocation of land to the temples, and to statue-cults, is documented by the texts in the tomb of Pennut at Mi‘am, and by the Nauri Decree of Sety I. The Nauri Decree is the earliest source indicating a close relationship of an Egyptian temple with Nubian land holdings. The temples of Ramesses II at Wadi es-Sebua, Gerf Hussein, and ed-Derr all indicate both a spiritual and perhaps economic tie to temples in Egypt. The “Elephantine Decree”, probably of Ramesses III, seems to be very similar to the Nauri Decree, but relates to land holding of the temple of Khnum on Elephantine in Lower Nubia.102 This land may be the origin of the Dodekaschoinos. Altogether, the evidence appears to suggest a close attachment of land and temples in Nubia to temples in Egypt during the later New Kingdom. The temples were eventually controlled by the Overseers of Prophets of all the gods of Ta-Sety. The more significant temples appear to have had two “Prophets” and groups of lower ranking priests. The recorded titles are from temple dedications and funerary monuments and the priesthoods of many important sanctuaries remain undocumented. At Buhen there is evidence for two prophets of Amun (ḥ m-nt̠r n ’Imn and ḥ m-ntr 2nw n ’Imn) in addition to the two Prophets of Horus of Buhen (ḥ m-nt̠r n Ḥ r nb Bhn, ḥ m-nt̠r 2nw) and lesser ranks of wʿbpriests, along with the Prophet of Isis (the Scorpion), the consort of Horus at Buhen. Elite women played a role in the cults as wrt h̠ nr n ’Imn, wrt h̠ nr n ¡st, ḥ syt and šmʿyt. Similarly at Miʿam, there was a ḥ m-nt̠r tpy n Ḥ r nb Mἰʿm, wʿb-priests as well as wrt h̠ nr, chantresses and songstresses. A First Prophet of Horus of Baki (ḥ m-nt̠r tpy n Ḥ r nb B¡kἰ) is also known.

B. Lloyd on the Occasion of his Retirement, T. Schneider, K. Szpakowska eds. (AOAT 347; Münster, 2007), 169–95. 102  Griffith, “The Abydos decree”, 207–08.



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The royal cult is particularly well-attested for Tutankhamun in his foundation at Faras. Among the officials who greet AmenhotepHuy 1 on his arrival are the First and Second Prophets (ḥ m-nt̠r tpy n Nb-Ḫ prw-Rʿ ḥ ry ἰb Sḥ tp-nt̠rw, ḥ m-nt̠r 2nw) and several wʿb-priests. The Second Prophet is stated to be Huy’s brother. Huy’s wife, Taemwadjsy, held the office of wrt h̠ nr n Nb-Ḫ prw-Rʿ ḥ ry ἰb Sḥ tp-nt̠rw. Manufacturing would have been, as in Egypt, attached to some of the key temples, and as Nubia lacked the palace complexes of Egypt, these may have been the major production centres. The earliest work in the temple at Buhen shows affinities with the construction carried out under the Egyptian garrison. Even if, in the earlier years of Egyptian rule, sculptors were brought from Egypt, local workshops must have been set up, and sculptors (sʿnḫ ) are attested. Before his elevation to the rank of ἰdnw, Amenemopet served as Comptroller of Works for the Viceroy Dhutmose, and was presumably responsible for overseeing the construction of the temple-town of Sesebi, work at Soleb, and perhaps the “Aten” temples. The Overseer of Craftsmen (ἰmy-r ḥ mwt) Roka is depicted in the chapel of Setau at Ibrim, and thus ranks as one of the leading members of the Nubian administration: his burial is known from Mi‘am. 5.  The Military The Chief of Bowmen of Kush—ḥ ry pd̠t n K¡š Whilst the Troop Commander, or Chief of Bowmen of Kush, was undoubtedly the head of the Nubian militia, it is unclear whether he was subordinate to the Viceroy or directly to the pharaoh. Most Chiefs of Bowmen were also Overseers of the Southern Foreign Lands— the officials, it is argued below, who had jurisdiction in the Nubian Marches. The importance of the office of Chief of Bowmen is emphasised by the use of the rank of t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt. The office is not well-documented before the reign of Amenhotep III, and may have been a creation of the re-structuring of the bureaucracy suggested to have occurred around the time of Amenhotep II–Thutmose IV. This may even have been the point when the office of Viceroy became more of a civil than a military one. Our knowledge of the Chief of Bowmen of Kush and their families is scant, and it is difficult to make generalisations about titles that they might have held. Khaemwaset, known from a dyad discovered

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at Kawa, was holder of the office in the late 18th dynasty. As noted above, he is accompanied by a woman who holds the office of wrt h̠ nr of Amun and wrt h̠ nr n Nb-ḫ prw-Rʿ at Sehetep-netjeru, called ­Taemwadjsy.103 Bell identified this Khaemwaset with the First Prophet of Nebkheperure at Faras, Kha, depicted in the tomb of Huy,104 assuming an hypochoristic form of the name. It seems unlikely that a Chief of Bowmen would hold important priestly offices concurrent with his military duties.105 Taemwadjsy is, perhaps more probably, to be identified as wife of the Viceroy Amenhotep-Huy 1, and possibly mother of the Chief of Bowmen, Khaemwaset.106 Khaemwaset was certainly a relative of the Viceroys Huy 1, Paser 1 and Amenemopet, and in the reigns of Ramesses II a similar situation occurred, when cousins of the Viceroy Paser 2 held the office for three generations: Pennesuttawy, Minnakht, and Anhurnakht. A close connection between one ḥ ry pd̠t and the palace is recorded in the “Harem Conspiracy Papyrus”.107 The “great criminal Binemwaset (Bἰn-m-W¡st) formerly Captain of Archers in Nubia” had received a letter from his sister who was in the harem, telling him: “Incite the people to hostility! And you come to begin hostility against your lord”. The true identity of this ḥ ry pd̠t is unknown, unless he is the official who added the ex voto to Buhen ST 15 beneath the band of cartouches of Ramesses III.108 The Harem Conspiracy Papyrus emphasises the close connections between the palace and the senior officials of the viceregal administration, and the inherent dangers. Although such palace intrigues are well-attested in other ancient Near Eastern monarchies, the Turin Papyrus is an  Macadam, The Temples of Kawa I, 3–4.  Davies, Gardiner, The Tomb of Huy, 18 and fig.3; Bell, “Aspects of the cult”, 43 n 8. 105  It should be noted that a similar juxtaposition of titles occurs on two statues of a Chief of Bowmen and Overseer of the Northern Lands, also called Khaemwaset, excavated at Tell Basta, and dating from the reign of Amenhotep III (Habachi, Tell Basta). The texts name the official’s (presumed) wives as a Chantress of Bastet, and as a Chantress of Sakhmet, Songstress of Bastet and wrt h̠ nr of Bastet. The implication is that the two women bore important titles in Bubastis. 106   This is the most economical interpretation of the evidence, but, obviously, not necessarily the correct one. 107  BAR IV 208–221: Breasted noted that the text reads literally “in Nubia” a rendering “against the usual custom”. 108  Caminos, The New-kingdom Temples of Buhen, p. 43: t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt, ḥ ry pd̠t n K¡š sš nsw ἰmy-r pr wr ἰmy r ἰpt št̠h ḥ m nt̠r hnr wr ’Imn Rc [?] Bekenset son of Penwepwawet. Caminos observes that the text could have been carved before, or after, the frieze of Ramesses III’s cartouches. The official is depicted in the act of adoration, and the cartouches of a king would have filled the now destroyed area. 103 104



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almost unique record from Egypt, and it remains impossible to judge how unusual an event this was. The involvement of this senior member of the Nubian militia in palace politics was due as much to his personal as to his official connections, but indicates just how close the family connections between these officials and the palace was. Textual evidence does not detail the activities of the ḥ ry pd̠t, but he was presumably responsible for maintaining security within the Nile valley and patrolling the frontiers and deserts. 6.  The Peripheries The Overseers of Southern Foreign Lands—ἰmy-r ḫ ¡swt rsyt The title was used in combination with s¡ nsw n K¡š from the early Viceroys such as Ahmose Turo onwards. Higginbotham views the Overseers of Southern Foreign Lands as subordinate to the Viceroy and Overseer of Bowmen, but the title is usual for both of those officials as well as being held by others.109 In the case of the Viceroy it has generally been regarded as little more than a poetic variant upon s¡ nsw n K¡š. That it was, however, a more specific, and meaningful, appellation is indicated by the other holders. The title is not attested for any or the princes of Lower Nubia, but only for officials who had some jurisdiction over Upper Nubia. Therefore its connection with Nubia must have been specific. “Overseer of Foreign Lands” and the variant “Overseer of Northern Foreign Lands”, is a title held by officials at Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham, the westernmost of the Libyan frontier fortresses, and at Beth Shean and Megiddo.110 The most plausible explanation is that “Overseers of Foreign Lands” were those officials responsible for the frontier zones: in Nubia these included the Viceroy, as chief of the administration of Egyptian dominions in Nubia, the Overseer of Bowmen, as chief of the militia, and, almost certainly, various of the Upper Nubian princes as rulers of the Marches. The text attached to the Luxor Temple scene of presentation of the ἰnw of Nubia and Asia states that this was done by the ἰmy-r ḫ ¡swt rsyt mḥ yt. Tomb scenes from Thebes and Amarna show a number

  Egyptianization and Elite Emulation, 39–40.   L. Habachi, “The military posts of Ramesses II on the coastal road and the western part of the Delta”, BIFAO 80 (1980), 13–30, esp. 15. PM VII 376–380 Ramessesuser-khepesh PM VII 380–381. 109 110

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of ­officials with specific titles presenting tribute, which again suggests that the title embraces a group. 7.  The Indigenous Rulers Older literature suggested that the administration comprised largely Egyptian “colonials”, and, with the exception of the local princes, indigenous elites were of little significance.111 The model argued here proposes that direct Egyptian control extended only as far as the Third Cataract, and that the region to the south may have been controlled by indigenous Kushite princes (weru). A certain amount of textual evidence can be adduced in support of this, and the settlement pattern in the Abri-Delgo reach is most easily explained within this model. Further theoretical considerations make it likely that the Egyptians would have established a buffer zone between their ‘colonised’ territory and the actual frontier at Napata. The parallelism of texts relating to Nubia and Asia demonstrates clearly that the Egyptians did not view their relationship with the two regions as essentially different: both were suppliers of both ἰnw and b¡kw, both had wrw-rulers. Obviously the nature of the geography, made direct control of parts of Nubia easier than western Asia, but earlier assessments of Egyptian rule argued for different approaches based on a more urbanised and hierarchical (and, implicitly, more ‘sophisticated’) society in western Asia. The continued existence of powerful Kushite princedoms later than the early 18th Dynasty is not accepted by all scholars, some of whom believe the wrw to have been little more than village headmen of only local and moderate importance. However, there is ample evidence for Kushite chiefs in the early 18th Dynasty leading resistance to the Egyptians, and any total disappearance of them, not paralleled in other imperialist expansions, needs to be accounted for. A valuable comparison may be found by examining the role of elites and chiefs in more generalised models of frontier expansion, in which one “weaker” people retreats before a stronger culture. Here it can be seen that retreat (physical) or resistance emphasise the power of local chiefs. Indeed, in

111   Frandsen, “Egyptian imperialism”, 169 commented that at “all levels of the administration the majority of the officials seem to have been Egyptians”. Trigger, Nubia under the pharaohs, 207 commentary to plate 50, on the contrary, suggests that many “Egyptian” officials might actually have been indigenous.



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societies which are loosely structured during peaceful times (e.g. due to the agricultural capabilities of the land) a former village headman may increase his power and become a chief because of a tightening in the society’s structure. If they are recognised as representatives of the communities by the invading power in order to impose the institutions of that power, or to establish a framework for co-existence of the two communities, the power of chieftains over their own people is increased even further. The hereditary principle is also strengthened, and a family of chiefs may have a vested interest in perpetuating the subordination of the people as a whole. This situation is quite compatible with tribal insurrections against the dominant people. Emergent elites who control the economic wealth may come to rely on the continuance of “trade” to maintain their privileged positions within the society. Instances where a stronger culture has come under the authority of a greater military power, such as Asia Minor under Roman rule, show quite clearly that certain practices of that controlling power will be adopted by individuals or groups within the elite, as a strategy in the constant struggles within the elite itself for prestige and status.112 Similarly, when Ife came into contact with Islam seeking “luxury” commodities, the power and prestige of the local ruler who already had a local network at his disposal was emphasised. Early New Kingdom Nubia, in which the invading power was both militarily and culturally dominant, may thus have seen the affirmation of, or increase in, the power of certain local princes for whom the adoption of Egyptian manner and practices was a means of increasing their status within their community through their links with the new rulers. First Dynasty hostility towards the A-Group rulers of Qustul is now seen as an attempt to gain ‘direct’ control of trade without middlemen, but this could only be direct trade with Upper Nubia (probably Kerma). New Kingdom actions initially destroyed Kerma’s power as an aggressor, but must have aimed at control of trade under more amenable rulers. Egyptianisation of the indigenous elite in Wawat was rapid, as the example of the princes of Th-ḫ t, buried at Debeira, illustrates.113 By 112  S. Price, S., Rituals and Power. The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge, 1984), 89–91. 113  Well-known from earlier publications by Säve-Söderbergh and widely discussed; the fullest publication is now Säve-Söderbergh, Troy, New Kingdom Pharaonic Sites, 190–204.

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the co-reign of Thutmose III and Hatshepsut, they had adopted additional, Egyptian, names, and were employed within the Viceregal administration, whilst retaining their Kushite titles. They were buried in Egyptian-style tombs with grave goods and statuary manufactured in the royal workshops (in Nubia, if not directly from Egypt). Junior members of the family were also employed in the administration, one being buried at Aswan. Thutmose II took a Kushite prince as hostage and four sons of the prince of Irem were sent to Egypt in year 34 of Thutmose III. The msw wrw of Ḫ nt-ḥ n-nfr and of Kush continue to be referred to, or depicted in texts and scenes until the reign of Tutankhamun.114 Whilst this practice of sending elite children to the Egyptian court is usually seen as a way by which the Egyptians were able to control the Kushite (and indeed Asiatic) princes, it was probably also highly desired by the elites themselves, as a means of distinguishing themselves, increasing their status, and consolidating their political power. The princedoms of Wawat are well-attested in the 18th Dynasty.115 From his detailed study of both the archaeology and the agricultural potential of the region, Trigger argued that Wawat was divided into three princedoms.116 One primary supporting piece of evidence is the scene in the tomb of Tutankhamun’s Viceroy, Huy, in which three rulers are shown prostrating themselves, with the caption wrw n W¡w¡t. Beneath these three rulers of Wawat are six figures labelled as the wrw n K¡š. Recent studies argue that the scene should not be read literally, but as indicative of a plurality of states. Trigger argued that each of the three chiefdoms in Wawat was more or less equivalent to the major areas of settlement and agriculturally productive land. The northernmost, although not attested from inscriptional material, would probably have had Baki-Kubban at its centre (although Kalabsha appears always to have been a significant location). No local rulers have been identified for this region, although the Chief Steward of the Queen’s House, Nakhtmin, buried at Dehmit, might be a candidate.117 The middle princedom, Mi‘am, was based on Aniba, although the princes were buried a little to the south at Toshka.  Davies, Gardiner, Tomb of Huy, pls. XXVII and XXVIII.  See most recently Säve-Söderbergh, Troy, New Kingdom Pharaonic Sites, 207–209. 116  B.G. Trigger, History and settlement in Lower Nubia (Yale University Publications in Anthropology, 69; New Haven, 1965); Id., Nubia under the Pharaohs. 117  A. Fakhry, “The tomb of Nakht-min at Dehmit”, ASAE 35 (1935), 52–61. 114 115



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The best-documented of these chiefs, Heqa-nefer, is attested by graffiti, his tomb and funerary objects, and from the scene in the tomb of the Viceroy Huy.118 The southernmost of the princedoms, Th-h̠ t, is represented by a family of chiefs, buried at Debeira and further attested by statuary and inscriptions. A wr of Th-h̠ t is known from the reign of Ramesses II,119 showing that these princedoms are not specifically an early-colonial phenomenon. The geographical factors and archaeological evidence support, to some extent, Trigger’s thesis for three states in Wawat. Whether or not any or all of these states continued throughout the New Kingdom is much less clear: the process of Egyptianisation may have been such that they did disappear. It is possible that the ruling families died out and were not replaced, or that they were totally absorbed into the administration in either Egypt or in Nubia (perhaps as ἰdnw). Even so, local rulers continue to be referred to as leaders of rebellion within Egyptian controlled territory (as in the rebellion of Wawat against Merneptah), or on the periphery and beyond. The evidence from the southern region is, at present, far scantier. The scene of the presentation of the Nubian tribute in the tomb of Huy depicts six wrw of Kush, none identified by name or territory. Similarly, an obscure passage in the inscription of Thutmose II, describes the ‘rebellion’ at the king’s accession and how the sons of the ruler of Kush had divided the land into five pieces.120 This was a temporary development, but there were probably several different principalities in Upper Nubia: their number, and extent, no doubt varying with internal dynamics. It is difficult to identify such princes in the historical record, and the limits of their individual rule are less easily defined than those of Lower Nubia, since the region does not fall naturally into separate agricultural zones. Nevertheless, some of these local rulers might be identifiable amongst the Overseers of Southern Foreign Lands. To speculate, once could propose that likely centres would be Tombos, Kerma, Kawa, Nugdumbush in the Letti Basin, Korti and Sanam. Egyptianisation of the Kushite elite in Wawat was rapid from the reign of Thutmose I onwards, its effects appearing particularly clearly during the co-reign of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III. The local princes adopted Egyptian names; they and their relatives worked within the

 Simpson, Heka-nefer, 2–18, 24–27.  Ipy: Säve-Söderbergh, Troy, New Kingdom Pharaonic Sites, 204. 120   Urk. IV 139, 4–6. 118 119

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viceregal administration, and were buried in Egyptian-style tombs; they received Egyptian funerary objects and their statues were the product of the royal workshops in Nubia. The Aniba cemetery similarly demonstrates the numbers and ranks of Nubians within the administration. In the reign of Thutmose III, four sons of the prince of Irem were sent to Egypt along with the b¡kw of year 34. This may have been part of the Egyptianisatian policy, although O’Connor121 argues that they were prisoners of war from a campaign in the central Sudan. Kushite princes were accorded high honours at the Egyptian court, demonstrated by the burial of one such, Maiherpri, in KV 36.122 His burial furniture carries only the titles h̠ rd n k¡p and t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt; both exalted ranks, but not offices. That he was a Kushite (perhaps Medja) is certain from his mummy and funerary papyrus. He was probably a contemporary of Thutmose IV.123 It is quite likely that some elite Nubians educated in Egypt joined the administration there and never went back to their homeland. Whilst it is self-evident that not all nobles with the title h̠ rd n k¡p were sons of foreign rulers, the k¡p was where such msw wrw would have been educated. Heqa-nefer carries the title h̠ rd n k¡p along with such “honorifics” as “King’s Sandal-maker” and “Bearer of the folding chair of the Lord of the two Lands”. Frandsen has already argued that the Kushite youths were educated to be members of the ruling class within Egypt as well as in Nubia, and he suggests that names compounded with ḥ q¡, such as Heqa-nefer, were, in fact, such Kushites.124 It should be noted that others have regarded such ḥ q¡-names as more generally indicative of foreigners, Asiatics as well as Kushites.125 There  O’Connor, “The location of Irem”, 109–110.  C.N. Reeves, Valley of the Kings. Decline of a Royal Necropolis (London, 1990), 140–147. 123  Reeves, ibid., 146 discussed the dating and the various interpretations of earlier writers. Steindorff considered Maiherpri to have been a contemporary of Thutmose I, Daressy of Hatshepsut and Quibell of Thutmose III, whilst Maspero suggested that he was a son of Thutmose III and “a negro princess” although later he ascribed paternity to Thutmose IV. 124   Frandsen, “Egyptian imperialism”, 169–170, 183 n.14. 125  E.g. Helck, Zur Verwaltung, 152. Paheqamen Benja is suggested to have been an “Asiatic” see H. Guksch, Das Grab des Benja, gen. Paheqamen. Theben Nr 343 (AV 7; Mainz-am-Rhein, 1978), 43–44. His parents were named ἰrtἰn-n¡ and t¡-rw-k¡k, suggested by Guksch to be “hethitischen und hurritischen” or “subaraische” (Mitanni), although equally possibly Kushite. Benja was a h̠ rd n k¡p, ἰmἰ-r k¡wt, ἰmἰ-r hm.t n.t nb t¡wy, ἰmἰ-r sd̠¡w-tjw. 121 122



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is no evidence to indicate whether Heqa-ro-neheh and Heqa-reshu were of Kushite or Asiatic origin:126 these officials held significant court offices and may have been related to Queen Mutemwiya.127 Using titles and names such as this, it might be possible to identify some of the princes of Upper Nubia. Dewachter128 discussed the monuments of (Pa)-Heqa-em-sasen, attested by a statue discovered at Gebel Barkal, a double inscription at Tombos, funerary cones and a double-statue from Thebes. The statue and cones indicate that Heqaem-sasen had a tomb at Thebes, but his titles that he had authority in Upper Nubia. He was r-pʿ ḥ ¡ty-ʿ and t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt, denoting his high rank, and also mr rwyt “Director of the Antechamber” which emphasises his relationship with the king (Amenhotep II). He was also an “Overseer of Southern Foreign Lands”, a title which, allied with the large inscription at Tombos, suggests he may have been a prince from the Kerma-Kawa region. A second “Overseer of Southern Foreign Lands”, Khay, may also have been a Kushite prince. Known from a relief from the second court of Temple A at Kawa,129 dated to the reign of Tutankhamun, Khay carried the additional titles h̠ rd n k¡p and t̠¡y ḫ w ḥ r wnmy nswt, but no specific office. The burial of the Overseer of Foreign Lands Siamun, excavated by S.T. Smith at Tombos,130 serves as a model for the process of Egyptianisation: a pyramid tomb, with Egyptian style burial and artefacts. It is uncertain whether this is man was of Egyptian or Kushite origin. Siamun was also a “Scribe of Gold”. Apart from the princes given court titles, other members of the Kushite elite were quite probably employed in Egypt itself, although it is almost impossible to identify them. The common name Panehesy can hardly be used as a criterion, especially as many so-named are demonstrably Egyptian.131

 TT 64 (Heqaroneheh) PM I.2, 128–129.   The issue of Egyptological attitudes in discussion of royal marriages with Kushites is discussed in Morkot, Black Pharaohs, 87–88. 128  M. Dewachter, “Un fonctionnaire préposé aux marches méridionales à l’époque d’Amenophis II: (Pa)-Hekaemsasen”, CRIPEL 4 (1976), 53–60. 129  Now Oxford, Ashmolean Museum. M. Gabolde suggested that this may actually be the Viceroy Huy 1. 130  Smith, Wretched Kush, 136–166. 131  E. Lüddeckens, “Nḥ sj und Kš in ägyptischen Personennamen”. In: Ägypten und Kush, E. Endesfelder et al., eds. (Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur des Alten Orients 13; Berlin-DDR, 1977), 283–291. 126 127

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That the activities of the Kushite princes were not confined to the Nile valley is demonstrated by the rock inscriptions of Heqa-nefer in the Wadi Barramiya, some 88 kms east of Edfu132 and the inscriptions on the road east of Buhen.133 The Elite of New Kingdom Nubia and the End of the Administration The elite of New Kingdom Nubia was part of the Egyptian system by education, employment, and by culture. If the indigenous elites played a significant role in the administration of the country, this raises questions about what happened with the withdrawal of the Viceregal system. It has often been assumed that members of the elite went to Egypt, but how would they have been absorbed into the Egyptian administration? The late New Kingdom was a time when the Egyptian elite families were increasingly pressing their hereditary claims to offices. How do elites respond to the end of imperial rule in which they played a significant role?134 There was periodic opposition to Egyptian rule by indigenous power-holders, primarily in Upper Nubia (the valley or the BerberShendi Reach), but also, in the reign of Merneptah, apparently in Lower Nubia too. The removal of Egyptian military power may have led the local elites to re-assert their own positions. The military expeditions recorded in Nubia after the reign of Thutmose III were directed against two different regions: the Eastern Desert (the toponyms Ibhet and Ikaytja) and Irem. In the former, nomadic tribes presented a constant threat to the gold-mining stations, and perhaps also to the riverine settlements. The location of the second region, Irem, has been the subject of some controversy, but is fundamentally important for our understanding of Egyptian activities in the Nile ­Valley and Central Sudan. As noted above, a number of places between the Third and Fourth Cataracts could have served as centres of local princedoms: Tombos, Kerma, Kawa, Nugdumbush/the Letti Basin, Korti and Sanam. Such  PM VII 325 (30).  In the Wadi Hamid, see M. Damiano-Appia, M., “Iscrizioni lungo le piste da Kubban, Buhen e Kumma a Berenice Pancrisia”. Preprint of paper presented at the 7th International Conference for Meroitic Studies (Berlin, 1992), 4–6. 134  Cf. Morkot, Black Pharaohs, 133; Id., “Egypt and Nubia”, 243–246. 132 133



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princes, like their northern counterparts, would have been raised at the Egyptian court and would have acted as the intermediaries in the crossfrontier trade and transfer of goods from the central Sudan. Egyptianisation, however, need not have spread beyond the elite themselves, as the earlier examples of Seyala, Qustul, and Kerma ­demonstrate. The location of Irem has been much debated, most recently by O’Connor135 whose new interpretation conflicts with the view, most cogently argued by Priese, and which had gained wide acceptance, that Irem was to be equated with the Old Kingdom Yam and Meroitic Arme/ Armi, both perhaps to be located in the vicinity of Kerma. Acceptance of O’Connor’s theory would require a complete re-evaluation of Egyptian military activity in the Third to Sixth Cataract region. O’Connor’s preference is for a location somewhere in the Berber-Shendi Reach, and he makes a strong argument in favour of this. O’Connor emphasises that the location of the toponym is of crucial importance to our understanding of Egyptian control of Upper Nubia. If Irem is to be identified with part of riverine Nubia, the Egyptian control of that region is found to be considerably less secure than had usually been accepted. Indeed the Egyptians would have faced sporadic rebellions in the region throughout the 18th and 19th Dynasties. If Irem is to be located in the central Sudan, the Pharaonic military activities were more wide ranging and aggressive than previously thought, indeed, comparable with those in Asia. Significantly, this alternative view posits a more aggressive reaction by the “princedoms” of the Central Sudan towards Egypt and its Nubian possessions. The Disestablishment of the Viceregal Administration The disestablishment of the Viceregal administration is suggested to have occurred at the end of the reign of Ramesses XI. Firth, largely on the lack of evidence for cemeteries, argued that the agricultural decline of Lower Nubia began in the later 18th Dynasty, and he was followed in this by many archaeologists. The result was a vision of Ramesside Nubia in which the colossal temples of Abu Simbel and elsewhere were created in an almost unpopulated land. Säve-Söderbergh adhered to this view, but arguing that the Egyptian focus moved southwards to

 O’Connor, “The location of Irem”.

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the temple-towns of the Abri-Delgo Reach. Even if hydraulic crisis had caused depopulation, there must have a point at which the Egyptians decided to quit Nubia.136 There is evidence that gold production had declined significantly by the reign of Ramesses III, but clearly the integration of Nubia into Egypt was such that there was no incentive to completely abandon it. There is no evidence for climatic changes in Nubia, or agricultural decline, and Jacquet-Gordon argued against Firth’s thesis. Williams has also argued that some material can be attributed to the late New Kingdom to ‘Napatan’ phase.137 Whilst it is perhaps possible that the elites would have gone to Egypt, without severe agricultural disruption in Nubia itself it is difficult to believe that the agrarian population would have moved. O’Connor138 suggested that the intensity of Herihor’s and Paiankh’s campaigning in Nubia was responsible for the de-population; but again it is difficult to see what the Egyptians would have achieved by this, other than the repression of a formidable military opponent who was threatening the security of Upper Egypt. If the titular Viceroys in Thebes were attempting to re-establish Egyptian authority over Nubia there would have been little point driving out its population. In any case, the intensity of the campaigning is hardly likely to have been greater than that of the pharaohs of the early 18th Dynasty who established Egyptian control over Nubia; they did not drive out the population. The disestablishment of the 500-year old administration can hardly have been effected overnight, and the landholding officials may not have wanted to abandon their property. It was the record of Panehesy’s presence in Thebes earlier in the reign of Ramesses XI, and the appearance of Herihor and Paiankh with the Viceregal titles later in the reign, which led Reisner to suggest that Thebes had been the Viceregal centre in the late 20th Dynasty.139 This is fallacious; but has maintained an unwarranted authority in literature. Viceregal titles continued to be held by Theban royalties and officials of the 21st and 22nd Dynasties, but opinion was, until very 136   Cf. Morkot, “Studies in New Kingdom Nubia”; James et al., Centuries of Darkness, 206–208. 137  H. Jacquet-Gordon, “Review of W.Y. Adams Meroitic North and South (Meroitica 2)”, OLZ 77 (1982), 451–454. B.B. Willams, Twenty-fifth Dynasty and Napatan remains at Qustul: Cemeteries W and V (OINE VII; Chicago, 1990). 138   O’Connor, “New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period c. 1552–664 B.C.”, 268. 139   Reisner, “Viceroys”, 63.



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recently, unanimous that this does not indicate a continued Egyptian control of Nubia. Newly published material identifies more Viceroys of Third Intermediate Period date and combined with the new archaeological evidence from Qasr Ibrim requires us to reconsider Egyptian activities in, and attitudes towards, Lower Nubia. The lack of Viceregal monuments in Upper Nubia after the reign of Ramesses IX, although the area is inadequately surveyed and excavated, suggests that fragmentation may have begun in the late 20th Dynasty. The campaigning of Panehesy in Middle and Upper Egypt during the early years of Ramesses XI, and possibly as early as the reign of Ramesses X, would have presented ample opportunity for new powers to establish themselves in Upper Nubia. Even if he was not resident at Thebes, Panehesy seems still to have been involved with the area as late as year 17 of Ramesses XI, and the political situation in Egypt possibly distracted him from events in more southerly parts of Nubia. Certainly, the campaigning of Herihor and Paiankh would have preoccupied the Viceroy in Lower Nubia, and possibly have forced a withdrawal of troops from the southern garrisons, if not an abandonment of the territory south of the Second Cataract. The excavations at Amara suggested the possibility that the site had been systematically closed down, rather than simply abandoned or destroyed in a period of unrest. Given that the latest work there belongs to the reign of Ramesses IX (dated to year 6), it is perhaps possible that the reigns of Ramesses X or Ramesses XI saw a withdrawal by the Egyptians back to the Second Cataract in the face of a rising Kushite power to the south.140 This, of course, is speculative, but the later years of the reign of Ramesses XI must have been marked by considerable political disturbance in Nubia and Upper Egypt. However, Panehesy may still have acknowledged Ramesses XI as his sovereign, even if the king and government had technically deprived him of office. Whether the fortification of Qasr Ibrim was effected by Panehesy as a defensive point against the campaigns of Paiankh, or an attacking position opposite Mi‘am, cannot be established. The death of Ramesses XI, and with it the end of the Dynasty, may have been the turning point in the political situation in Nubia. With a new dynasty in the Delta, and the High Priests of Amun at Thebes arrogating the royal style, the successor of Panehesy, and perhaps other  Spencer, Amara I, 217–221 for discussion of dating of the levels.

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Nubian chiefs, may likewise have assumed the symbols of a power they already actually possessed. The Transition from Egyptian Rule to Kushite Kingdom The interpretation of the evidence for this phase is extremely controversial. It is certain that a Kushite state emerged that was sufficiently militarily and economically powerful, centralised, and organised to take over Egypt. How this was achieved remains unknown, and there is hardly any evidence for the administration of the region during this dynamic period. Even under the rule of the “25th Dynasty” there is remarkably little evidence of how the Kushite homeland was governed. Viceroys During the Libyan Period The use of the titles associated with the Viceroy by Nesikhons A, wife of Pinudjem II, were known to Reisner and dismissed in the most disparaging way.141 Her titles associate her with the cult of Khnum and Satet at Elephantine, and of Nebet-hetepet lady of Sered (perhaps a Lower Nubian locale) as well as being Overseer of the Southern Foreign Lands and Viceroy. A single later occurrence, also noted by Reisner, was dismissed as of any significance, but excavations by the DAIK on Elephantine have now recovered more inscriptions relating to Libyan Period Viceroys, all of whom have an association with the cult of Khnum. An unnamed official with the titles is dated to the reign of Osorkon II; Hat-nakht of the reign of Takeloth II has the titles King’s Son of Kush and Overseer of the Southern Foreign Lands; the Vizier Pamiu of the time of Osorkon III or Takeloth III was King’s Son of Kush, and Ankh-Osorkon probably a descendant of Osorkon III, carried the titles, again as Prophet of Khnum. It is tempting to see the use of these titles as indicative of Libyan Egypt’s new southern frontier territory. The association of the temple of Khnum with control of part of Lower Nubia would perhaps be a continuation of that established in the Elephantine Decree of 141  Reisner, “The Viceroys of Ethiopia”, 53: “to satisfy the vanity of a woman”, a comment not improved upon by K.A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 B.C.) (Warminster, 1973), 275–276. See for this period K. Zibelius-Chen, “Überlegungen zur Ägyptischen Nubienpolitik in der Dritten Zwischenzeit”, SAK 16 (1989), 329–345.



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Ramesses III and continuing into the Late Period, culminating in the pseud-epigraphic “Famine Stela” attributing the grant of land to Djoser. There is hardly any evidence of how the Kushite kings administered their southern territories. The inscriptions refer to the nomes of Nubia, but this is more likely to be an archaism of language than an indicator of an administrative system. Similarly, the Meroitic nomoi listed at Philae, although interpreted by some as administrative districts, cannot be more than a list of important towns. The post-25th Dynasty stela referring to Piye’s son, Khaliut, as Mayor of Kanad, may suggest that royal princes were appointed as district governors. More significantly, there is a possibility (but only that) that the vast territory was divided and the region south of Aswan placed under the rule of a prince, perhaps the designated successor. The prime evidence is a reference in the inscription of the Assyrian ruler Sargon II at Tang ı-Var in Iran that suggests that Shebitqo was ruling in Kush (but not as “Pharaoh”) in 707/706 B.C., while Shabaqo was reigning in Egypt.142 Certainly the size of the Kushite kingdom would have meant that it was impossible to rule from one point, and would have required division into territories and constant communication between the centres. There is no evidence for the administration from any of the reoccupied sites of Lower Nubia: Mirgissa, Buhen, or Qasr Ibrim. The administration of Nubia changed, developed and expanded according to the Egyptian activities in Nubia. It appears to have moved quite quickly from a primarily military to civil system, the military concentrating on the frontiers. The advantages of the system to the local elite were quickly realised, although they may as equally have taken advantage of Egyptian weakness to reassert their own independence. The, admittedly scanty, evidence of the post-New Kingdom suggests the origins of the system found in Late and Ptolemaic Egypt, in which a territory to the south of the First Cataract acted as a border zone, and was attached to the temple of Khnum at Elephantine. The Administration of Egypt under Kushite Rule There are many officials documented for the late-Libyan and Kushite periods and there are many studies of the Libyan-Kushite periods and 142  A considerable literature has been generated by this one reference: this is considered in detail in R.G. Morkot, P.J. James, “Shebitqo” (forthcoming).

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specific offices.143 Unfortunately, rather few officials are linked directly through their monuments to rulers and, inevitably, there are problems of precise dating of individuals. As a result, much dating relies on genealogical connections and/or stylistic evidence of coffins and statuary which is itself often related to genealogies anchored, sometimes tenuously, to kings. Despite these problems, it is possible to give some indications of how the Kushites controlled Egypt. The Kushites first appeared in Upper Egypt in the reign of Kashta: a fragment of a stela from Elephantine, and a possible reference in the Karnak Priestly Annals being the only contemporary records. However, the early inscriptions of Piye confirm that the Kushites already had garrisons and were acknowledged in Thebes. The length of Kashta’s reign is unknown, as are the processes by which the Kushites gained control of Thebes and Upper Egypt. It is generally, if tacitly, assumed that there was some sort of military invasion: some scholars have speculated that the political situation in Thebes saw opportunism by the Kushites, or that they were ‘invited’ by one or other faction. Kashta ensured that his daughter, Amenirdis, was installed as eventual successor to the God’s Wife of Amun, Shepenwepet I, daughter of Osorkon III. Although a considerable number of writers have assumed that the installation of Amenirdis was effected by Piye, there is no evidence to support that, and all other God’s Wives were installed by their fathers.144 Kashta may have left a military presence in Thebes and elsewhere in Upper Egypt, and the princess would doubtless have had 143  In addition to numerous articles (some cited below) major studies are: J. ­Yoyotte, “Les principautés du Delta au temps de l’anarchie libyenne”, in: Mélanges Maspero, vol. I.4 (Cairo, 1961), 121–181; K.A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 BC) (Warminster, 19963); F. Gomaà, Die libyschen Fürstentümer des Deltas vom Tod Osorkons II. bis zur Wiedervereinigung Ägyptens durch Psametik I. (TAVO Reihe B, Nr.6; Wiesbaden, 1974); G. Vittmann, Priester und Beamte im Theben der Spätzeit. Genealogische und prosopographische Untersuchungen zum thebanischen Priester-und Beamtentum der 25. und 26. Dynastie (Beiträge zur Ägyptologie 1; Wien, 1978); E. Graefe, Untersuchungen zur Verwaltung und Geschichte der Institution der Gottesgemahlin des Amun vom Beginn des Neuen Reiches bis zur Spätzeit (ÄA 37; Wiesbaden, 1981). See also G.P.F. Broekman, R.J. Demarée & O.E. Kaper, eds., The Libyan Period in Egypt. Historical and cultural studies into the 21st–24th Dynasties: Proceedings of a conference at Leiden University 25–27 October 2007 (Egyptologische Uitgaven, 23; Leuven, 2009). A number of recent doctoral dissertations are, as yet, unpublished. 144  See lengthy discussions of R.G. Morkot, “Kingship and kinship in the empire of Kush”, in: Studien zum Antiken Sudan. Akten der 7. Internationalen Tagung für meroitistische Forschungen vom 14. bis 19. September 1992 in Gosen/bei Berlin (Meroitica 15; Wiesbaden, 1999), 179–229 with references. Kitchen, Third ­Intermediate Period,



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an entourage: there is no evidence that any other Kushites were placed in significant administrative offices at this point. The earliest record from the reign of Piye, the sandstone stele from Gebel Barkal,145 makes it clear that he was the effective ruler of all Egypt: this might be the result of additional military activities as yet undocumented. The text of the stela tells us that Piye had the power to confirm, install, and depose rulers: He to whom I say “You are a Chief (wer)”, he shall be a Chief, He to whom I say “You are not a Chief (wer)”, he shall not be a Chief, He to whom I say “Make an Appearance (khau i.e. as King)”, he shall make an Appearance. He to whom I say “Do not make an Appearance (i.e. as King)”, he shall not make an Appearance.

Thus the distinction between the wer-chiefs and the nesut-kings is clearly drawn. The political situation in Egypt is described in more detail in the narrative of the ‘Victory Stela’ recording Piye’s military actions against the ‘rebellion’ of Tefnakht ruler of Sais.146 The Victory Stela is dated to the beginning of year 20 and most scholars attribute the conflict described to years 19 and 20. From the narrative we learn that there were four rulers who are described as ‘uraeus-wearers’ and had full royal titles. They are named on the ‘Victory Stela’ as Nimlot of Khmunu (Hermopolis), Peftjauawybast of Nen-nesut (Herakleopolis), Osorkon (usually ‘IV’) of Per-Bastet (Bubastis), and Iuput of Tentremu. The historical background to this division of Egypt into four

followed Macadam in arguing that Piye installed Amenirdis, and has been followed by many other writes. 145   Khartoum SNM 1851: most recently D.A. Welsby & J.R. Anderson, Sudan Ancient Treasures (London, 2004), 162–163 (146) with bibliography; for discussions, see R.G. Morkot, “The Origin of the Kushite State: a response to the paper of László Török”, in: Actes de la VIIIe Conférence Internationale des Études Nubiennes. I: Communications principales (CRIPEL 17; Villeneuve d’Ascq, 1995), 229–242; Id., The Black Pharaohs: Egypt’s Nubian Rulers (London, 2000), 179–80; Id., “Tradition, innovation, and researching the past in Libyan, Kushite, and Saïte Egypt”, in: Regime Change the Ancient Near East and Egypt from Sargon of Agade to Saddam Hussein, H. Crawford, ed. (Proceedings of the British Academy 136; London, 2007), 141–164. 146  N. Grimal, La stèle triomphale de Pi(ankh)y au Musée du Caire. JE 48862 et 47086–47089 (Études sur la propagande royale Égyptienne I, MIFAO 105; Cairo, 1981); numerous translations and discussions, all older ones cited in Grimal. Cf. also T. Eide et alii, ed., Fontes Historiae Nubiorum. Vol. I: From the Eighth to the MidFifth Century BC (Bergen, 1994); R.G. Morkot, The Black Pharaohs; R.K Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy. Inscriptions from Egypt’s Third Intermediate Period (Writings from the Ancient World, 21; Atlanta, 2009).

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kingdoms plus the Thebaid is highly controversial: what matters is that Piye placed or confirmed these rulers (or perhaps their predecessors) in office early in his reign. In addition to the four kings, the ‘Victory Stela’ of Piye lists the other weru-rulers: eight ‘Great Chiefs’ and ‘Chiefs’ of the Ma, who had specified territories in the Delta. They are referred to, and depicted on the Stela, as the ‘plume-wearing chiefs’. There was also another layer of local rulers who had Egyptian titles, such as ‘Mayor’. The leader of opposition to Piye, Tefnakht, carried the titles Chief of the Ma and Chief of the Libu, along with a range of other Egyptian titles which indicate that he was the ruler of (Sau) Saïs and the western Delta. Although the emergence of the four kingdoms appears to be a late development, the existence of a system of Great Chiefs and Chiefs is documented throughout the Libyan period, although by monuments of individual dynasts. It is the Victory Stela of Piye and the Assyrian documents of the later 25th Dynasty that show most clearly how it functioned in practice.147 The text of the ‘Sandstone Stela’ from Gebel Barkal shows that early in his reign Piye acknowledged other kings, and appears to have confirmed them in office, presumably in return for their fealty. From the narrative of the ‘Victory Stela’ it is clear that Nimlot of Hermopolis and Peftjauawybast of Herakleopolis—the two territories immediately to the north of the Kushite controlled Thebaid—were allies of Piye. Even after Piye’s victory over Tefnakht and his coalition of Delta rulers, the Kushites maintained the system of Libyan dynasts. This continued into the later 25th Dynasty when both Taharqo and Tanwetamani both faced the dynasts’ collaboration with the Assyrians. Looking broadly at the evidence, it would appear that neither Kushites nor Assyrians could effectively control the Delta without eradicating the kings and dynasts completely, which is what, ultimately, the Saite victor Psamtik I had to do. So, from the appearance of the Kushites in Upper Egypt under Kashta, until their withdrawal in the reign of Tanwetamani—a period of roughly a century—a system of kings and chiefs continued. Towards the end of the reign of Piye, Bakenranef, assumed to have been the direct successor of Tefnakht, started to expand the Saite kingdom once again. His control of Memphis is confirmed by the series

147   The Assyrian lists have been examined most recently by H. Verreth, “The Eastern Egyptian Border Region in Assyrian Sources”, JAOS 119/2 (1999), 234–47.



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of stelae recording the burial of an Apis bull in his sixth year, but his defeat and death at the hands of Shabaqo are documented only by the Greco-Roman tradition. Shabaqo is recorded in Egypt (Thebes and the Delta) in his second year (probably 710 B.C.), and he does seem to have seized Memphis and established himself as a Pharaoh there, rather than just in Thebes: this does mark a change in Kushite policy. Memphis was also used by his successors Shebitqo, Taharqo, and Tanwetamani as a major royal residence, no doubt because the Delta and western Asia were now the focus of their actions. The Kushite system of rule thus reflected that of the preceding Libyan pharaohs. The main difference from the earlier Libyan period is the existence of other nesut-kings. Although the internal chronology remains problematic and subject of debate, it is certain that there were kings who used the full five-fold titulary and who must be contemporary with the Kushites. In Hermopolis, Nimlot is attested as the ruler at the time of Piye’s campaign, and certainly had been in power for some time before. His family connections are unknown, as are the origins of the kingdom. Nimlot was also the name of the ‘king’ (sharru) of Hermopolis at the time of the Assyrian invasions, although most writers assume that this is a second of the name, perhaps a grandson.148 Another ruler of Hermopolis was Thutemhat, but whether he preceded Piye’s ally Nimlot, or reigned between Nimlot ‘I’ and Nimlot ‘II’ remains speculative.149 In Herakleopolis, Peftjauawybast was the king who allied himself to Piye and was consequently besieged in his city by Tefnakht and the coalition. Peftjauawybast was related by marriage to the family of Osorkon III, Takeloth III, and Rudamun. It has been proposed that he was the former High Priest of Memphis and representative of the senior royal line descended from Osorkon II.150 He had no male successor and the region was under the control of the ‘Shipping Masters’ or ‘Masters of the Quay’ by the late 25th Dynasty (also appearing

148   The Assyrian is ‘Lamentu’: K.A. Kitchen, Third Intermediate Period, 397: Nimlot ‘E’; no regnal years are known for Nimlot, and there is a possibility that he reigned from the time of Piye to the Assyrian invasions. 149   K.A. Kitchen, Third Intermediate Period, 97–98, 136–7, 371; H. Wild, “Une statue de la XIIe dynastie utilisée par le roi Hermopolitain Thot-em-hat de la XXIIIe”, Revue d’Égyptologie 24 (1972), 209–215. 150  R.G. Morkot & P. James, “Peftjauawybast, king of Nen-nesut: Genealogy, art history, and the chronology of Late Libyan Egypt”, Antiguo Oriente 7 (2009), 13–55, with all relevant previous literature.

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with the equivalent Assyrian title rab kari). Verreth has equated the Hinishi of the Assyrian records with Herakleopolis Magna, rather than with the Delta city more usually assumed, proposing that a ruler, ­Nah-ke was installed by Esarhaddon in 671 and still in office under Assurbanipal.151 The dynastic connections of Iuput of Tent-remu and the base of his power are unknown and there is no evidence that he had successors in the kingdom. The identity of Osorkon of Bubastis, recorded on the Victory Stela of Piye, has long been a subject of controversy, and opinion is still divided. Some writers think that he is Osorkon III of the line established by Shoshenq I, but many identify him with an otherwise barely attested Osorkon ‘IV’.152 The excavations at Tanis produced blocks of king Gemenefkhonsubak that must, on stylistic grounds, belong to the early Kushite period. Other blocks belong to a king Pedubast, undoubtedly the same as the Putubishti ruler of Tanis named by the Assyrian lists. It seems likely that the Tanite line was interrupted at one or two points in the late-Libyan and Kushite periods: no king is named by Piye, and fragmentary inscriptions suggest that there was a period of Saite control. Indeed, the throne name of Gemenefkhonsubak, Shepseskare, is clearly related to that of Tefnakht, Shepsesre; and his personal name has the same construction as that of Tefnakht’s father.153 Sais was the major seat of opposition to the Kushites, but even there the same dynasty may have retained, or regained, control. Inscriptional evidence of the reigns of Shabaqo and Taharqo shows that the Kushites did extend their authority over the western Delta, and the (unreliable) epitomators of Manetho state that there was a Kushite ruler in Sais.

151  H. Verreth, “The Eastern Egyptian border region in Assyrian sources”, JAOS 119 (1999), 234–247; cf. e.g. K.A. Kitchen, Third Intermediate Period, 397. 152  E.g. K.A. Kitchen Third Intermediate Period, 372–75. Whether Osorkon III was part of the Tanite line or a member of a ‘Theban’ or ‘Hermopolitan’ ‘23rd Dynasty’ had been subject of considerable debate: see generally papers in G.P.F. Broekman, R.J. Demarée & O.E. Kaper, eds., The Libyan Period in Egypt. Blocks excavated recently at Tanis, which had been reused as building material in the Sacred Lake of the goddess Mut, carry the simple ‘archaising’ forms ‘Usermaetre Osorkon’ as found in the Chapel of Osiris Heqa-Djet at Karnak for Osorkon III, but will probably generally be assigned to ‘IV’. 153   For the debate over the king Tefnakht being Tefnakht ‘II’ see conveniently D. Kahn, “The Transition from Libyan to Nubian Rule in Egypt: revisiting the Reign of Tefnakht”, in: The Libyan Period in Egypt, G.P.F. Broekman, R.J. Demarée & O.E. Kaper, eds., 139–148.



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Interruptions in, and replacements of, dynastic lines would have been affected by a range of political (as well as personal) factors. The policy of confirming or replacing dynasts is expressed in the early inscription of Piye, and no doubt continued. The Kushite conflict with Assyria in 701 B.C. and the later Assyrian invasions saw the capture, execution, and deportation of rulers: some of these may have been replaced by family members, or others, with or without Kushite royal assent. The implication of this system is that local kings and chiefs would have had authority within certain territories and although the Kushite kings may have installed and removed the highest level of rulers, appointments at a lower level would have been in the hands of those local dynasts. Obviously areas directly ruled by the Kushites—Thebes for example, and perhaps Memphis and Heliopolis, would have seen a more active control. Unfortunately, Kushite evidence from Memphis and Heliopolis is very limited, much building and sculptural material having been destroyed or reused during the Assyrian invasions and later Saite rule. The Kushites followed Libyan practice by making marriage alliances with the elite, probably throughout Egypt. Although the evidence is not as clear as with the earlier kings, we can document marriages of Kushite royal women with Montjuemhat, Mayor of Thebes, and the northern Vizier Montjuhotep. Marriages with the Libyan dynasts are probable, and the name of the daughter of the chief of the Ma Akanosh, Takushit, is generally accepted as implying such an alliance. Amongst other rulers, Patjenfy of Pharbaithos was probably related to Shebitqo. The evidence from the Theban region is far clearer and more abundant than it is from other parts of Egypt, and it reveals that the Kushites did place their own nominees in key roles within the administration.154 The highest ranks in the priestly offices of Thebes were those of Gods’ Wife of Amun and High Priest (First Prophet) of Amun. Following the death of the Libyan holder, Shepenwepet I, the office of God’s Wife passed to her Kushite heiress, Amenirdis I and thence through Kushites until Psamtik I installed his own daughter as the eventual successor in 656 B.C.

154  R.G. Morkot, “Tradition, innovation, and researching the past . . .” in: Regime Change the Ancient Near East.

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Since the reign of Shoshenq I, the office of High Priest of Amun had been held by a son of the reigning king who does appear to have exercised some religious functions, but was equally significant as a Viceroy and military figure in the south. Indeed, many High Priests seem to have been resident at el-Hiba, a key stronghold founded by the High Priests of the 21st Dynasty. Kitchen assumed a gap in the pontificate of some fifty years before the appointment of Haremakhet son of Shabaqo who is documented from the reigns of Taharqo and Tanwetamani. Haremakhet was succeeded by his son Harkhebi who was pontiff when the Saite princess Neitiqert was sent to Thebes in year nine of Tanwetamani and Psamtik I (656 B.C.), an event generally regarded as marking the end of Kushite rule in Upper Egypt. Harkhebi is also depicted on the ‘Saite Oracle Papyrus’ of year 14 of Psamtik I (660 B.C.), showing that he continued to serve under the new regime, as did many other Kushite appointees. It seems likely that these two princes were born and brought up in Egypt: Haremakhet’s wife is unknown but may have been a member of the Theban elite. Of the other major priesthoods of Amun at Thebes some, such as that of Second Prophet, seem to have ‘gaps’ in the recorded holders.155 Nesishutefnut, son of Taharqo was appointed as Second Prophet, but the date is unknown. The rank of Third Prophet became hereditary in the family of Pediamennebnesuttawy who had married a daughter of Takeloth III, and had also served Piye. They retained the office into the 26th Dynasty. The seemingly lower rank of Fourth Prophet was for a period linked to that of Mayor of Thebes, and does demonstrate Kushite intervention. The Fourth Prophet and Mayor, Karabasken (Kelbasken), clearly holds a Kushite name. His tenure of office is difficult to determine: Kitchen placed him under Piye and Shabaqo, from around 725 B.C., but the style of the tomb decoration might suggest a slightly later date in the reigns of Shabaqo and Shebitqo. Both offices were also held by Montjuemhat, member of one of the leading Theban families, who is attested under Taharqo, was regarded as the ‘king’ (sharru) of Thebes by the Assyrians, and continued in office into the reigns of Tanwetamani and Psamtik I. Montjuemhat had several wives, one being the granddaughter of Piye: it is possible 155   The most recent discussion is G.P.F. Broekman, “The Leading Theban Priests of Amun and Their Families under Libyan Rule”, JEA 96 (2010), 125–48. Also see, D.A. Aston & J.H. Taylor, “The family of Takeloth III and the ‘Theban’ Twenty-third Dynasty”, in: Libya and Egypt c. 1300–750 BC., A. Leahy, ed., (London, 1990), 131–154.



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that there had been an earlier Kushite marriage in the family also. Montjuemhat’s family originally held the Vizierate, but that office was given to Nesipeqashuty ‘C’ and continued in his family far into the 26th Dynasty. It is difficult to be precise about the dating of these changes in office-holding, but it looks as if one change was effected in the earlier years of Taharqo. As far as we can see Kushite rule did not alter the way in which Egypt was administered: the alterations were more straightforwardly related to the holders of office, whether individuals or families. There was probably most change in the Delta where the dynasts were confirmed or replaced, deported, executed, or killed in conflict. In the Theban region, there was continuity in the elite families: many of them were descendants of the earlier Libyan kings through the female line, and had established marriage alliances with Osorkon III and Takeloth III. The families continued to hold office under the Kushites and the Saites. There is evidence suggesting that ‘new’ families such as those of Pediamennebnesuttawy and Nesipeqashuty were appointed to key offices: in fact, we do not know the origins of these individuals, but their positions certainly show an intervention. The apparent moving of offices hereditary in one family to another one (as with the Vizierate) again suggests royal intervention: but this is nothing new or particularly unusual. The negotiation of power between the elite—always desirous of hereditary office—and the king was one of the characteristics of Egyptian government. This involved marriage alliances, and favouring of individuals (perhaps with close royal associations). Placing of officials from elsewhere in key Theban offices is also well-documented from earlier: those new appointments usually established alliances with the Theban families very quickly. There were certainly Kushites appointed to both major and lesser offices, but all seems to have worked within the well-established administration of Libyan period Egypt.

THE SAITE PERIOD: ThE EMERGENCE OF a Mediterranean power Damien Agut-Labordère preliminary remarks 1.  Unless otherwise specified, all dates are B.C. 2. P. Louvre 7848, a document drafted in abnormal hieratic and dating from the year 12 of the reign of Amasis, indicates both solar and lunar dates, making it possible to synchronize the Egyptian calendar with the Julian calendar. Year 12 of the reign of Amasis thus runs from 10 January 559 to 9 January 558.1 The Saite dynastic list is thus: Psamtik I 664–610 Nekau II 610–595 Psamtik II 595–589 Apries 589–570 Amasis 570–526 Psamtik III 526–525 3.  abbreviations: ar. = Aramaean dem. = demotic gr. = Greek ab. hierat. = abnormal hieratic O.P. = Old Persian

The Saite period corresponds to the 26th Manethonian Dynasty, and covers approximately the century and a half of Egyptian history between two invasions from the East: that of the Assyrians in the first half of the seventh century, and that of the Persians in 526.2 The first invasion put an end to the Kushite domination of Egypt, while the second confirmed the domination of the Achaemenid Persians. In 570, a coup d’État by General Amasis interrupted the dynastic continuity and led to the overthrow of Apries. After his lengthy reign of 44 years, his son and successor Psamtik III reigned for only a few months before being overthrown by Cambyses.

1   R.A. Parker, “The Length of Amasis and the Beginning of the 26th Dynasty,” in: Festschrift Junge = MDAIK 15 (1957), 208–212. 2   J.F. Quack, “Zum Datum der persischen Eroberung Ägyptens unter Kambyses,” JEH 4/2, 2011, pp. 228–246.

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The widely used and abused term “Saite Renaissance” is so fraught with error and simplification that its meaning requires explanation. It originated in the work of the art historians, who quickly determined that the Saite monuments, statues, and votive inscriptions cut into the hard stones were characterized by a search for archaism, an unquestionable taste for what was ancient. Scribes and lapidaries used ancient titles and turns of phrase, some of which dated from the Old Kingdom, to designate the positions of their time.3 In our opinion, this practice, which creates the illusion of a millennial continuity of functions, helps to conceal the changes. Worse, it can lead the epigraphist to interpret a sixth-century position in terms of an identical title attested to more than a millennium earlier. Historians of the Saite period must therefore be wary of engaging in a kind of “nominalism of titles” consisting in confusion of words and objects. Papyrus documentation (in both abnormal hieratic and in demotic) is of great help in this regard. By putting flesh on the simple statement of titles and positions that constitutes the ordinary work of the epigraphist, papyrus texts show the agents of the king and the gods in action, and supply vital information on the duties, scope of action, and position in the hierarchy of titles that in and of themselves are sometimes not very revealing. Thus, in this short history of the Saite royal administration, we shall look chiefly at the positions explained by both the epigrapher and the papyrus. The best method for clarifying the functioning of the Saite administration is to cross-reference these two types of documentation as often as possible. Two very penetrating studies serve as the basis for the historiography of the period. Kees has analyzed the meaning of the Saite domestic policy established as resumption of control over the Egyptian territory and the centralization of the administration.4 Meanwhile, Kienitz has described Saite foreign policy and positioned it in the long term by showing that it foreshadowed that of the Ptolemies.5 It is true that for   P. der Manuelian, Living in the Past. Studies in Archaism of the Egyptian TwentySixth Dynasty (London, 1994). The archaizing trends go back to the seventh century; F. Payraudeau, “Les prémices du mouvement archaïsant à Thèbes et la statue Caire JE 37382 du quatrième prophète Djedkhonsouiouefânkh,” BIFAO 107 (2007), 141–156. 4   H. Kees, Innenpolitik der Saitenzeit (Göttingen, 1935). 5   F.K. Kienitz, Die politische Geschichte. Ägyptens vom 7. bis zum 4. Jahrhundert vor der Zeitwende (Berlin, 1953), 140–149 (Chapter 12). 3



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the historian, Saite Egypt offers an example of very profound transformation of the administrative structure of a monarchy in a fairly short time, barely a century and a half. Egypt, politically fragmented and conquered, became a centralized monarchy that recovered a preponderant role in the Middle East and in the eastern Mediterranean in particular. This analysis has led us to give preference to a dynamic approach to Saite administrative history, in order to show how the choices made in domestic and foreign policy led to the perfecting of the administrative machinery. The first Saites had to gain territorial control of the country (Part 1), and then build a military tool that, in view of Egyptian strategy choices, had to become very burdensome (Part 2). Our hypothesis is that it was this cost that gradually forced the Saites to transform the financial and tax administration (Part 3) which could draw on the resources generated by the economic activities conducted particularly on the margins of that other Egyptian institutional entity, the temple (Part 4). 1.  Territorial Sovereignty (Psamtik I—592/591) The Saites came from the area around Sais, Buto, and Imau, known at the turning point of the eighth and seventh century as the Kingdom of the Western Provinces.6 A family of minor kings closely connected with the temple of Neith in Sais appeared at this time. They chose to be buried within the walls of the temple, an act that called attention to their close connection with this city. After the defeat of Nekau I by the Nubians, his son Psamtik I was chosen by the Assyrians to be his successor.7 Despite this somewhat inglorious origin, the reign of Psamtik I served as a benchmark for the entire Saite period and well beyond (a Psamtik V was still reigning around the year 400).8 It is true that the new master of Egypt was to benefit from exceptional circumstances. First, the unusual length of his reign enabled him to ensure the permanence of his policy of control of the­

  J. Yoyotte, “Les principautés du Delta au temps de l’anarchie libyenne (Études d’histoire politique),” in: Mélanges Maspero. Volume 1: Orient ancien (MIFAO 66/1, fascicule 4; Cairo, 1961), 121–181, especially 151–159, III. 7   O. Perdu, “De Stéphinates à Néchao ou les débuts de la XXVIe dynastie,” CRAIBL (2002), 1215–1244. 8   M. Chauveau, “Les archives d’un temple des oasis au temps des perses,” BSFE 137 (1996), 32–47. 6

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country, an effort that would have stood little chance of success without the simultaneous weakening of the imperial powers. In the south, the Kushite pharaohs appeared to have given up on Egypt after the reign of Tanutamon/Tantamani, while in the east, the declining Assyrian power was engaged with its Babylonian rival. The Saite thus restored the pharaonic monarchy in the shadow of these two declines. The king and his immediate entourage (1.1) obviously constituted the heart of this mechanism, which imposed its yoke first in the Delta, fragmented into a multitude of principalities, and then into a Thebaid dominated by the powerful temple of Amun (1.2). In addition, Psamtik I created an enormous “Southern Land” that extended from Syene (Aswan) to Memphis, under the management of a high-level official known as the Leader of the Fleet (1.3). 1.1  The King and His Entourage A small kneeling statue represents General Djedptahiufankh, who was active during the reign of Psamtik I (Cairo JE 36949).9 The large inscription that runs along the front of his robe begins with a list of titles indicating the closeness of this important figure to the king: (1) “Prince and count, royal chancellor, sole friend, beloved” (rp-ʿ ḥ ¡ty-ʿ ḫ tm bἰty smḥ r wʿ mr nsw m n ἰb). His other court titles, including Agent for the Residence (ἰmἰ-r¡ h̠ nw.tἰ), Agent for the royal scribes of the repast (ἰmἰ-r¡ sh̠ ¡.w nsw ʿb-r¡), Royal Spokesperson (wḥ m nsw) and Agent for the harem (ἰmἰ-r¡ ἰp.t nsw), indicate missions largely extrapolated from events that antedate the Saite period.10 We shall therefore concentrate instead on the handful of functions connected with the direct service of the king for which we have contextual elements. Among the palace titles, we shall examine chief physician of the king (1.1.2) and Manager of the Antechamber (1.1.3), beginning, however, with an examination of the two functions combined around the king, the purpose of which was to second the king in the administration of Egypt.

 9   H. de Meulenaere, “La statue du général Djed-ptah-iouf-ankh, Caire JE 36949,” BIFAO 63 (1965), 19–32 [with 4 plates]; J.A. Josephson & M. el-Dalmaty, Catalogue Général of Egyptian Antiquities in the Cairo Museum. Statues of the XXVth and XXVIth dynasties (Cairo, 1999), 87–90, pl. 37. 10   D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten. Die Verwaltung in der 26. Dynastie in Ägypten (664–525 v. Chr.) (Tübingen, 1998), 15–16 (ἰmἰ-r¡ h̠ nw.tἰ), pp. 16–17 (ἰmἰ-r¡ sh̠ ¡.w nsw ʿb-r¡), pp. 19–21 (wḥ m nsw), pp. 21–22 (ἰmἰ-r¡ ἰp.t nsw).



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1.1.1  The Advisers to the King The statuette of General Djedptahiufankh is an almost complete work, very carefully executed. It includes an eight-line inscription that is essential for an understanding of the organization of the advisers to the king. In this text, Djedptahiufankh says that the king spoke of him in these terms: “(3) relies on his words on the day of the High Council (sḥ ʿ¡), distinguished by the king because of his excellent ideas (4), pronouncing wise judgements in the Council of Nobles (sḥ n srw) and speaking to them next to the king so that they were satisfied by his remarks.” The text thus differentiates between two meetings. The first is called the High Council. According to the description given to us by Djedptahiufankh, the king listened to his closest advisers and was possibly able to “rely” (ʿḥ ʿ ḥ r) on the opinions that he felt were the bestadvised. This was thus a council of government convened to assist the sovereign in taking decisions. We do not know the nature of Djedptahiuefankh’s role in such meetings. The narrative passage of the literary text known as the Instructions of Chasheshonqy (P. BM 10508) can perhaps provide some clarification.11 The chief physician of the king, Harsiesis son of Ramose, was reported to have been involved in a plot aimed at assassination of a Saite sovereign. The pharaoh summoned him and publicly accused him during a council meeting (demotic qnb.t) that was attended by the principal officials of the court: “(3. x + 7) On the following morning, Pharaoh took his place in the hall of the palace at Memphis. The guards were at their posts and the generals were in their seats. The king looked toward (3. x + 10) the place of Harsiesis son of Ramose.” The presence of generals (dem. mr-mšʿ) is immediately reminiscent of the High Council mentioned in the inscription of Djedptahiufankh. Thus it was perhaps in this capacity that this general had to be present at this event. The fact is that the lengthy proscymene that runs along the edge of the base of his statue is preceded by the title of general (ἰmἰ-r¡ mšʿ II. 4). We should point out, however, that while Djedptahiufankh held high-ranking positions in the Egyptian army, we must not automatically attribute a military meaning to the

11   S.R.K. Glanville, The Instructions of ‘Onchsheshonqy (British Museum Papyrus 10508) (London, 1955), 9; F. Hoffmann & J.F. Quack, Anthologie der demotischen Literatur (Berlin, 2007), 277; D. Agut-Labordère & M. Chauveau, Héros, magiciens et sages oubliés de l’Egypte ancienne (Paris, 2011), 277.

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title ἰmἰ-r¡ mšʿ. The ἰmἰ-r¡ mšʿ is, strictly speaking, a “chief,” the leader of a group of individuals, regardless of the nature of the task that he is required to perform.12 In this regard, the ambiguous use of the Egyptian ἰmἰ-r¡ mšʿ is completely comparable to that of the title râbu sabū in recent Babylonian documentation.13 More broadly, the language of the narratives shows that the term can also be used to designate any person of importance. For example, in the tale of Meryre and the pharaoh Sisebek (Narrative in P. Vandier), the obscure magician Meryre assumes the title of mr-mšʿ throughout the second part of the narrative without assuming the position of command.14 He seems to deserve it, since his abilities have been recognized by the king. Meryre, who until then had been ignored by the court of scheming magicians, then becomes “general,” i.e., a person who counts. An assembly of “nobles,” like the one evoked in the inscription of Djedptahiufankh, is mentioned in another biographical text engraved on a fragmentary stelophorous statue from the Theban region (Phil. Univ. Mus. E 16025).15 This monument belonged to a vizier named Harsiese, a probable contemporary of Psamtik I, who also participated in a meeting with the sovereign. Harsiese was able to boast of being the person “in whose word the king trusts during the convocation of nobles” (x + 6). We find here the same formula that Djedptahiufankyh applied to the High Council, employed this time to a meeting of nobles. Are we to deduce from this that the meetings were of the same type? We do not think so. If we consider the inscription of Djedptahiufankh, compared with the High Council, which probably included persons who had been distinguished by the king, the Council of Nobles seems to be of a different type. General Djedptahiufankh describes himself as being more active there since he “persuades them (= the nobles) to take the side of the king” (wp sw r-gs nsw). In other words, he succeeds in persuading the members of the council to adopt the opinion

12   F. de Cenival, “Remarques sur l’imprécision des titres dans l’armée et l’administration en démotique,” in: Atti del XVII Congresso Internazionale di Papirologia. Volume Secondo (Pisa, 1984), 723–726. 13   CAD R p. 31b. 14   G. Posener, Le Papyrus Vandier (Cairo, 1985), 59. 15   H. de Meulenaere, “La statue d’un vizir thébain, Philadelphia, University Museum E. 16025,” JEA 68 (1982), 139–144, 4. Pl.



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of Psamtik I. Thus, far from being a consulting council called to assist the sovereign in his task, the Council of Nobles appears to have been a deliberative meeting in which the king had to defend his point of view and obtain adherence. Psamtik I does not dominate, or at least does not visibly dominate, the members of this meeting. It is strange that Djedptahiufankh was a member of this council without ever claiming the status of noble (srw). Are we to suppose that membership in this group is contained in a different title present in the inscription? The title of count governor (rpʿ ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) at the beginning of the text could then justify his place among the sr.w. We would then have to presume the existence of a double hierarchy, that of “nobles” and that of the “generals,” the first entitling the holder to sit in a council to which the king must convoke the leaders of Egypt, the second, to sit in a meeting controlled by the sovereign. Let us conclude this survey of the royal councils by saying that the Saite period saw the reactivation of a literary theme that had appeared in the Middle Empire, showing the king in his palace convoking the dignitaries for a presentation of his views.16 At least two Koenigsnovellen known by inscriptions on stone show the king surrounded by his advisors. The Bentehhor stele (Louvre A 83), dated from the year 1 of the reign of Nekau II, offers a list of the embellishments decided upon for Karnak at the very beginning of the reign of this king.17 Installed in his residence, the king informs his courtiers of his desire to renovate the sanctuaries of Thebes, and then confirms the lamentable condition into which they have fallen.18 Another stele dated from the year 1, the famous Elephantine stele, describes combats in the Delta at the very beginning of the reign of Amasis. The “opening scene” shows the king in council being informed of the attack of the Greeks.19

  G. Posener, Littérature et politique dans l’Egypte de la XIIe dynastie (Paris, 1969), 30.   G. Vittmann, Priester und Beamte im Theben der Spätzeit. Genealogische und prosoprographische Untersuchungen zum thebanischen Priester- und Beamtentum der 25. und der 26. Dynastie (Vienna, 1978), 74–75. 18   O. Perdu, “Prologue à un corpus des stèles royales de la XXVIe dynastie,” BSFE 105 (1986), 23–38, esp. 24–25. 19   Y. Ladynin, “The Elephantine Stela of Amasis: Some Problems and Prospects of Study,” GM 211 (2006), 31–57. 16 17

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1.1.2  The Chief Physician The narrative that precedes the Instructions of Chasheshonqy, already mentioned above, introduces a person who is very close to the Saite king: the chief physician (demotic wr swnw).20 In reality, this man, Harsiese son of Ramose, was the source of the plot that led to the imprisonment of the unfortunate Onchsheshonqy (P. BM. 10508 col. 1 to 3). The titles preserved on the very beautiful statue left by the chief physician Udjahorresnet (Vatican inv.196)21 and in the tomb built for him at Saqqara22 show that this high Saite dignitary, active from the reign of Amasis to that of Darius I, was much more than the personal physician to the kings. The title most often associated with him during his lengthy career was that of chief physician of Upper and Lower Egypt (wr swnw Šmʿ Mḥ w), but he also occupied major military positions: leader of Aegean foreign (troops) (ἰmἰ-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt ḥ ʿw nbw) (a title that appears second on the list) and admiral of the royal fleet, (ἰmἰ-r¡ kbn.wt nsw).23 Udjahorresnet thus directed the military fleet and the Aegean contingents, duties that involved two types of abilities very different from those of medicine. His medical knowledge was thus part of a much broader body of knowledge. In the case of a person of this importance, we deduce that the title of chief physician served above all to signify an extremely close relationship with the king, a role of special adviser in whom the sovereign had complete trust, to the point of entrusting his health to this person. The profile of chief physician and chief dentist (wr ἰbḥ ) of Psamtik Seneb is very close to that of Udjahorresnet, since he too was an admiral.24 The naophorous statue of the chief physician Peftuaneith (Louvre A 93) bears what is unquestionably among the richest of the Saite ­biographical

20   On this point, and in general, the reader will consult D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 22–24. 21   G. Posener, La première domination perse en Égypte. Recueil d’inscriptions hiéroglyphiques (Cairo, 1936), 1–26. An indicative bibliography on this text can be found in G. Vittmann, “Ägypten zur Zeit der Perserherrschaft,” in: Herodot und das Persische Weltreich, R. Rollinger, B. Truschnegg, & R. Bichler, eds. (Wiesbaden, 2011), 373–429, esp. 377 n. 17. 22   L. Bareš, Abusir IV. The Shaft Tomb of Udjahorresnet at Abusir (Prague, 1999). 23   L. Bareš, The Shaft Tomb of Udjahorresnet at Abusir, fig. 35, col. 11. 24   P. Ghalioungui, The Physicians of Pharaonic Egypt (Mainz am Rhein, 1983), 32 n° 122; P.M., Chevereau, Prosopographie des cadres militaires égyptiens de la Basse époque (Antony, 1985), 134–135.



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inscriptions that have come down to us.25 The text describes the renovation work done at Abydos and its environs by Peftuaneith during the reign of Amasis. The duties listed at the beginning of the inscription show that his abilities (which we shall discuss later) are economic and financial by nature. 1.1.3  The Manager of the Antechamber The Manager of the Antechamber (ἰmἰ-r¡ rwt) is one of the most prominent members of the Saite court.26 This title is attested to from the reign of Psamtik I to that of Amasis, and disappears with the arrival of the Persians. Ahmosesaneith is the last person known to have held it. Let us note in passing that the existence of this person is also attested to by documents going back to the reign of Nektanebo I. His memory was thus venerated more than a century and a half after his death.27 The term rwt, translated as “propylaea” in the case of a temple,28 very definitely designates here the anteroom that served as a waiting room for people who had requested a meeting with the king. If we accept this theory, the Manager of the Antechamber was thus in charge of organizing the royal audiences. The identification of the equivalent title in demotic (mr rwt) enables us to shed new light on the powers connected with this position.29 In the Petition of Peteise (P. Rylands 9), the Manager of the Antechamber appears as one of the leading officials of the royal administration in Memphis; he has accountant scribes (sh̠ ἰw=f ἰp) to perform investigations throughout the country (P. Rylands 9 19.1–3). Following the advice of his father, Peteise III visits a scribe of the Manager of the Antechamber to report on the wrong done to him by the priests of Teudjoi. The scribe agrees to 25   Lastly, D. Klotz, “Two Studies on Late Period Temples at Abydos,” BIFAO 110 (2010), 127–163, esp. 128–129. 26   D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 17–19. 27   B. Bothmer, Egyptian Sculpture of the Late Period 700 B.C. to A.D. 100 (New York, 1960), 92–94, n° 74. The Manager of the Antechamber Nesisut may more probably be connected with the Thirtieth Dynasty; G. Vittmann, “Rupture and Continuity. On priests and officials in Egypt during the Persian Period,” in: Organisations des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans l’Empire achéménide, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds. (Persika 14; Paris, 2009), 89–121. On the dating of the sarcophagus of Nesisut (BM 30), see p. 100. 28   S. Sauneron, “La justice à la porte des temples (à propos du nom égyptien des propylées),” BIFAO 54 (1954), 117–127. 29   G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9 (ÄAT, 38; Wiesbaden, 1998), 654–660.

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intervene in his favor, and upon his return to Memphis reports to the Manager of the Antechamber the extortion activities of which his protégé has been the victim. The Manager of the Antechamber writes directly to the governor of Heracleopolis and the general in charge of the Heracleopolite nome, asking them to seize the attackers of Peteise and bring them to Memphis (P. Rylands 9 19.8–13). This shows that the Manager of the Antechamber had genuine powers of investigation and command that allowed him to resolve personally some of the matters brought to the attention of the sovereign. For this purpose he had his own investigation service; thus he was not a mere “chamberlain” in charge of maintaining the list of hearings and introducing petitioners. Next to (parallel with?) the Manager of the Antechamber, viziers (t̠¡ty.w) also seem to have played a role of “supreme judge” during this period.30 This would seem to prove the sequence of the titles “judge and vizier” (for example on the Theban statue Phil. Univ. Mus. E 16025, l. x + 10)31 as well as the close association of judges (demotic wpwt.w) and viziers in the royal residence that we observe in P. Rylands 9 (15.9).32 In any event, the Manager of the Antechamber could be only a person who enjoyed the full trust of the sovereign. This closeness is evident in the case of the Manager of the Antechamber Neferibrenefer, who was also the tutor of the children of Nekau II. In honor of their good teacher, the four pupils (one of whom was the future Psamtik II) dedicated to him a statue placed in the temple of Neith in Sais (CG 658).33 1.2  Resistance and Submission: The Delta, the Thebaid, and the Southern Land The Saite monarchy controlled the Egyptian territory thanks to the submission of two aristocracies. The first of them was the Libyan aristocracy, in which the Saites originated and whose representatives held the major cities of the Delta. The second was organized around the temple of Amun of Thebes and the major local priestly families that supported the Kushite dynasty. 30   J. Yoyotte, “Le nom égyptien du ministre de l’économie,” CRAIBL (1989), 73–90, esp. 81 n. 35. 31   H. de Meulenaere, JEA 68 (1982), 139–144, 4 pl. 32   G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 166–167. 33   R. El-Sayed, “Quelques éclaircissements sur l’histoire de la XXVIe dynastie, d’après la statue du Caire CG. 658,” BIFAO 74 (1974), 29–44, 2 pl.



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1.2.1  The Reduction of the Chieftainships of the Delta The Delta is seen to have enjoyed a strategic position in the economic geography of the time. To the east were the incense routes that ended in Palestine; to the north was the Mediterranean. Saite power was born in a flourishing region very well situated from the point of view of the geography of trade. It is here that Psamtik I first had to impose his power, in an area in which political unity had collapsed, to the benefit of principalities held by “warlords” of Libyan origin, the “Great Chiefs of the Ma” (in the singular wr ʿ¡ n M¡). The policy of unification of the Delta under Psamtik I was one of pragmatism. Different methods appear to have been used for the treatment of the competing lines. For example, at Mendes the local High Chief of the Ma suddenly disappears from the documentation starting in the 660s.34 Similarly, the Libyan family that had been established at least since the campaign of Piye at the head of Busiris seems to have been replaced, under unknown conditions, by a leading Saite administrator, a certain Shesmunakht, count and governor at Bus[iris] in An[djet] (rpʿ ḥ ¡ty-ʿ m ʿnḫ [d̠t] D̠ dw). His statue, which depicts him in kneeling position, presents plastic features that are characteristic of works of the transitional period between the Kushite and Saite periods (Vienna, Künsthistorisches Mus. ÄS 8507).35 However, the methods used do not appear to have been always this harsh. At Sebennytos, the transition seems to have been more moderate. The city was controlled by a Libyan family established there since at least the reign of Piye. Akanosh A, the eldest of the members known, appears on the famous Triumphal Stele, and this line can be followed throughout the Twenty-Fifth Dynasty.36 The power of these Libyan chiefs over their region was extremely broad, and even encroached upon the royal prerogatives. The picture that occupies the top of an unpublished donation stele (private collection)37 dating from the year 2 of the reign of Nekau I (671–670)38 shows Akanosh B, very probably the grandson of   P. MacKay, H. de Meulenaere et alii, Mendes II (Warminster, 1976), 173.   O. Perdu, “Documents relatifs aux gouverneurs du Delta au début de la XXVIe dynastie,” RdÉ 57 (2006), 151–197, esp. 176–177. 36   O. Perdu, “La chefferie de Sébennytos de Piankhi à Psammétique Ier,” RdÉ 55 (2004), 102. 37   In course of publication by O. Perdu. See the bibliography provided by D. Meeks, “Une stèle de donation de la Deuxième Période Intermediaire” ENIM 2 (2009), 129– 154, esp. 139–140 (document 24.6.2) available at http://www.enim-egyptologie.fr. 38   Here we follow O. Perdu, CRAIBL (2002), 1241. 34 35

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Akanosh A, “offering the countryside” to the triad of Behbeit el-Hagar. The inscription states that a “major donation of fields”39 was made by this dynasty to Osiris-Andjty, Horus, and Isis of Behbeit. In the caption that accompanies this image, Akanosh B is presented as “the prophet of Isis Lady Hebet, high chief and commander, Akanosh son of Iuput” ([ḥ m]-nt̠r n ¡st nb.t Ḥ bt wr [ʿ¡] ḥ ¡wty ’Ik[n]wš s¡ ’Iw[pw.t]). Thus, while recognizing Nekau I as king, Akanosh B usurps the right to dispose fully of the lands within his area of influence, and seizes upon the royal iconography of the “gift of the countryside.” This document is essential in order to understand the political atmosphere of the birth of the Twenty-Sixth Dynasty. The Saite king initially appears as a primus inter pares, one among other High Chiefs who hold the Delta cities. While these chiefs acknowledge his pre-eminence on a purely honorific level (his name serves to establish the computus, the ecclesiastical calendar), on the other hand they retain royal prerogatives. In subsequent decades, however, the situation evolved in favor of the crown. For example, Akanosh C, the last known representative of the line of the High Chiefs of Sebennytos, left a statue of Osiris (Cairo CG 567) bearing the cartouche of Psamtik I.40 Moreover, in the inscription that accompanies this monument, he is never called high chief (wr ʿ¡); he bears the same title as the administrator Shesmunakht at Busiris, count and governor (rpʿ ḥ ¡ty-ʿ), followed by the priestly title of prophet of Onuris-Shu son of Re lord of Sebennytos. It seems, then, that the highest representative of the principality of Sebennytos ultimately recognized the authority of Psamtik I. In this case, the new power and the former Libyan chiefs had thus found a compromise that allowed the members of the old-line families of the High Chiefs of the Delta who had so decided to rally to and join the local Saite administration. Perhaps this refers to the members of the Council of Nobles mentioned above; a man like Akanosh C could not be treated like an ordinary governor. The presumed interest of Psamtik I in bringing the declining Delta elites into union with his power in order to facilitate their joining forces with him, while at the same time soothing their feelings, is thus understandable. Only the High Chiefs who rejected this type of compromise would have been ultimately defeated. Once integrated into the administration, the descendants of the High

  O. Perdu, RdÉ 55 (2004), 98.   O. Perdu, RdÉ 55 (2004), 95–111; Id., RdÉ 57 (2006), 178–180.

39 40



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Chiefs would have been gradually “digested” by the Saite power. This “digestion” must have taken time: in 601–600, Pmui II of Busiris was still using the title of High Chief of the Ma as part of his titulary.41 In this perspective, the Council of Nobles may have characterized a very particular period, that of the transition of a royal power based on the consent of the High Chiefs to a more absolute form of monarchy. 1.2.2  The Assertion of Saite Authority in Thebes Things were much more difficult in Upper Egypt, where the temple of Amun of Thebes was a unique political structure otherwise more dense than the Delta chieftainships. During almost three centuries, the priests of Amun had become independent of the royal power. Notwithstanding this fact, the Delta and Thebaid aristocraties did have a few points in common. During the seventy years of Kushite domination, the highest army positions had been shared between Kushites and Libyans.42 In both cases, then, the Saites were facing a military aristocracy. These aristocracies could be linked by marriage, as is shown by the union of Takushit, a lady very probably of Nubian origin (bronze statue preserved in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, No. 110) with Akanosh (B?), one of the minor kings of Sebennytos whose line was discussed earlier.43 The powerful temple of Amun of Thebes was headed by Montuemhat, the fourth prophet, prince of the city (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n nἰw.t) and Agent for Upper Egypt (ἰmἰ-r¡ n Šmʿ.t). He had been able to retain his position despite the Assyrian invasion.44 Psamtik I appears to have realized the power of this remarkable political figure, since he retained his position until his death around 648. It was perhaps Nesnaisut, a major Saite dignitary, who had to supervise this transitional phase. He

41   J. Yoyotte, “Des lions et des chats. Contribution à la prosopographie de l’époque libyenne,” RdÉ 39 (1998), 155–178, esp. 176. 42   G. Vittmann, “A Question of Names, Titles and Iconography. Kushites in Priestly, Administrative and other Positions from Dynasties 25 to 26,” MittSag 18 (2007), 139–161, esp. 159. 43   Concerning the paleographic arguments that militate in favor of this attribution, cf. O. Perdu, RdÉ 55 (2004), 98–99, and, more recently, G. Vittmann, MittSag 18 (2007), 152–153. 44   G. Vittmann, Priester und Beamte im Theben des Spätzeit. Genealogische Untersuchungen zum thebanischen Priester- und Beamtentum der 25. und 26. Dynastie (Beiträge zur Ägyptologie; Vienna, 1978), 172 (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n niw.t) and pp. 193–196 (ἰmἰ-r¡ n Šmʿ.t).

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has left a mortuary statue placed in the temple of Horus in Edfu (Berlin 17700).45 The inscription that it bears is important for the understanding of the structure of Saite power on the local level at the very beginning of the period. Before being installed at Edfu, with extensive powers, Nesnaisut was invested by Psamtik I with the government of nine different cities in the Delta and in Upper Egypt. The last three cities named are Thebes, El Kab, and Edfu. It is thus very probable that after assuming management positions in northern cities, Nesnaisut was sent to the south. In eight cases, he bears the title of “governor” (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ). But in Thebes he is rsw, translated as “observer.”46 Nesnaisut was probably the eyes of Psamtik I in a region where the Saite royal power was seeking to strengthen its hold. It was very certainly in the same period that the position of God’s Wife of Amun, held by the Kushite royal princesses, came under the control of the Saites.47 There is no need here to discuss the famous Nitocris Stele, which shows that Nitocris, daughter of Psamtik I, was officially adopted by the God’s Wife Shepenupet II, daughter of the Kushite pharaoh Piye, in 656.48 It seems that Princess Amenirdis, daughter of Taharqa and first adopted daughter of Shepenupet II, was able to hold the title of God’s wife, but around 655 the position passed to the Saite princess. Much later, in the year 1 of the reign of Psamtik II (596–595), Nitocris adopted Ankhnesneferibre, daughter of Psamtik II, who did not succeed her until year 4 of the reign of her brother Apries (586).49 Until the Persian conquest of Cambyses, the position of God’s Wife was to remain in the hands of Saite princesses, sisters or daughters of the king. At the same time we observe, but cannot conclusively interpret, the disappearance at the end of the seventh century of certain positions connected with the administration of Upper Egypt, for example that of vizier

45   H. Ranke, “Statue eines hohen Beamten unter Psammetich I,” ZÄS 44 (1907– 1908), 42–54; O. Perdu, RdÉ 57 (2006), 172–175. 46   H. de Meuleunaere, BIFAO 63 (1965), 31. 47   H. de Meulenaere, “Thèbes et la Renaissance saïte,” Égypte. Afrique & Orient 28 (2003), 61–68; M.F. Ayad, God’s Wife, God’s servant: The God’s Wife of Amun (C. 740–525 BC) (New York, 2009), 23–26. 48   R.A. Caminos, “The Nitocris Adoption Stela”, JEA 50 (1964), 71–101; O. Perdu, Recueil des inscriptions royales saïtes (Paris, 2002), 17–26, document n° 1. 49   A. Leahy, “The Adoption of Ankhnesneferibre at Karnak,” JEA 82 (1996), 145–165, esp. 157–158.



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(t̠¡ty) of Upper Egypt, the last holder of which appears to have been Nespakachuty (TT 312).50 When considering the development towards an increasingly strong influence of the Saites over the Theban region, the campaign conducted by Psamtik II against the kingdom of Napata in 592–591 marks a conclusion. Before that date, the Saites had recognized the Kushite sovereigns of the Twenty-fifth Dynasty as legitimate. Thereafter, however, the Nubian kings were considered—retrospectively—to be usurpers. The cartouches of Piye and his successors, and those of the Divine Adoratrice connected with them, were therefore systematically smashed.51 This eradication of the Kushite past directly affected the aristocracy of the Theban region, which had prospered under the Twenty-fifth Dynasty. However, there is no indication that this led to disturbances in the region. In contrast, by ending the compromise situation worked out during the era of Psamtik I, this rereading of history by the Saites required the powerful families of the Theban region to choose between them and the Kushites. Nevertheless, and despite the growth of Saite power over the region, the Thebaid retained a certain originality. For example, the title of Agent for Upper Egypt (ἰmἰ-r¡ n Šmʿ.t), held by Montuemhat, is attested to at least until the reign of Psamtik II, even if, around 610, it passed into the hands of one Padihorresnet, who was a descendant of an old-line Theban family but whose name indicates support of the Saite cause.52 The same movement is seen in connection with the use of cursive writing. Malinine supposed that the demotic, the writing of the north, must have “infiltrated” into Thebaid thanks to the new officials appointed by the king and coming from the capital, that is, from the northern part of the country, to the Valley of the Nile.53 But in Thebes and its region, the local cursive writing, which we call abnormal hieratic, was used throughout the Saite period. 50   G. Vittmann, “Rupture and Continuity. On Priests and Officials in Egypt during the Persian Period,” in: Organisation des pouvoirs, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds. (Persika 14; Paris, 2009), 89–121, esp. 94–97. 51   J. Yoyotte, “Le martelage des noms royaux éthiopiens par Psammétique II,” RdÉ 8 (1951), 215–239; S. Sauneron & J. Yoyotte, “La campagne nubienne de Psammétique II et sa signification historique,” BIFAO 50 (1952), 157–207, esp. 192. 52   G. Vittmann, Priester und Beamte, 196 (table of holders of this title during the Saite period) and D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 63–69; A. Leahy, “More light on a Saite Official of the God’s Wife of Amun,” JEA 74 (1988), 236–239, pl. XXXIII, see 239 nn. 2 and 3. 53   M. Malinine, Choix de textes juridiques en hiératique “anormal” et en démotique (XXVe–XXVIIe dynasties), I (Paris, 1953), xvii.

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The last abnormal hieratic line known to us, the signature of a witness on the reverse of P. Louvre E 7837, dates from the year 535.54 It must therefore be deduced that the Theban scribes resisted for more than a century and a half the writing of their northern colleagues. Let us note in passing that the question of the spread of demotic is linked not only with the writing system but also the content of the documents. The scribes who used the Theban cursive writing used a different form that was less abstract than the one in use in the demotic contracts. In Middle Egypt, the use of demotic is first attested in El-Hiba during the reign of Psamtik I, but apparently it did not suceed in imposing itself farther south.55 The situation seems to fluctuate at the beginning of the sixth century, precisely during the period in which Psamtik II was conducting his campaign in Nubia. At that time features characteristic of demotic documentation began to “pass” into documentation drafted in abnormal hieratic. For example, the demotic formula used to indicate satisfaction on the part of one of the parties—dἰ=k mtr ḥ ¡ty=y “you have gratified my heart”—appears in abnormal hieratic documents (Louvre E 7861 dated from 568).56 This northern influence is also seen in the onomastic. The Theban scribe Padiamenope gave the name Padihorresnet to his son and successor, active from 568 to 522.57 However, Theban exceptionalism continued subsequently. For example, nine months after the accession of Amasis to the throne thanks to a coup d’État, he was not yet recognized in Thebes, where the ecclesiastical calendar of his unfortunate rival Apries still continued in use.58 However, it is difficult to interpret such inertia. Does it indicate hostility of the Thebans to the new king? Or, more simply, a demonstration of prudence in respect of an uncertain political situation? In any case, by the end of a century and a half of stubborn policy in which the demonstration of force in 592–591 had put an end to a period of compromise, the Theban region had been integrated into the

  K. Donker van Heel, Djekhy & Son (Cairo, 2012), 26–27.   P. Rylands dem. 1, G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 224–225 dated March 644, and P. Rylands dem. 2, G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 225–226 dated April of the same year. 56   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal Hieratic and Early Demotic Texts collected by the Theban Choachytes in the Reign of Amasis. Papyri from the Louvre Eisenlohr lot (Leiden, 1996), 75–81 [n° 1]. 57   K. Donker van Heel, Djekhy & Son, 29–31. 58   A. Leahy, “The earliest dated Monument of Amasis and the End of the Reign of Apries”, JEA 74 (1988), 183–199, esp. 188. 54 55



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Saite kingdom. The campaign in year 4 of the reign of Psamtik II was thus both a military success, the first success of such scope for the Saite kings, and also a political victory that made it possible to breach the link between the Theban region and the kingdom of Napata. In this regard, it marked the completion of the policy of unification that had been in effect since Psamtik I. 1.2.3  The “Southern Land” and the Construction of a Local Administration in Middle Egypt While the Delta and the Thebaid appear to be areas of resistance to Saite power, their respective situations should not conceal what was happening elsewhere, particularly in Middle Egypt. Psamtik I apparently sought initially to administer this ill-defined area as a single unit, ignoring the traditional division into nomes, by merging ­Middle and Upper Egypt into a single large administrative region called “the ­Southern Land” (T¡-Rsy). For example, according to P. Rylands 9 5.13– 15, during the reign of Psamtik I the entire area south of Memphis (“from the Southern limit of Memphis to Syene”) was entrusted to a dignitary who held the title of Leader of the Fleet (ʿ¡ n mry.t = dem. ʿ¡ n mr) based in Heracleopolis.59 The concept of “Southern District” reappears in the Persian era. Known from both Demotic and Aramaean documents (dem. t¡ šdy.t rsy = ar. tšṭrs), it was then dominated by the fortress of Elephantine and was ruled by an administrator whose title is not known. In a document dating from 485, the holder of this position, a certain Parnu (in Old Persian, Farnava), is called simply, “the man of the Southern Land, to whom the fortress of Elephantine is entrusted” (P. Berlin 13582 2–3).60 It has been presumed that this governor held the Old Persian title of *frataraka, but nothing is certain in this regard.61 The concept of “Southern Marches,” a distant south, thus seems common to both the Saite and the Persian powers, although the northern boundary of this area moved far down the Nile between the two periods.

  G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 387–388.   A. Kuhrt, The Persian Empire: A Corpus of Sources from the Achaemenid Empire (London – New York, 2007), 706, n° 14. 61   G. Vittmann in: Organisation des pouvoirs, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds., 108 n. 88. 59 60

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The two Saite holders of the position of Leader of the Fleet known to us were perhaps father and son,62 and were both contemporaries of Psamtik I: Peteise, son of Chasheshonq, and Sematawytefnakht.63 The former is known from a statue preserved in the Stockholm Museum64 where he bears the title of ḥ ¡ty-ʿ wr m Ntr “gouvernor (and?) chief of Buto” (or a locality near that city).65 Very probably a descendant of a line of Delta “Chiefs” who decided to support Psamtik I, he was integrated into the Saite administration initially as head of one of the most important cities of Lower Egypt, later occupying the major post of Leader of the Fleet in Middle Egypt. We learn from the Petition of Peteise (P. Rylands 9) that Peteise son of Chasheshonq is believed to have been the son of a priest of Amunresonter, and that he was appointed Leader of the Fleet in the early years of the reign of Psamtik I, since he appears holding this title in the year 4 (661 B.C.). According to the same source, he may have died in 647. The text of the Nitocris Stele indicates that Sematawytefnakht, whose mother came from a royal line,66 had already succeeded him, since in 656 he already held the title of Leader of the Fleet.67 This succession is echoed in the Petition of Peteise when Udjasomtu I son of Peteise I, seeking to replace his father as leader of the temple of Amun of Teudjoi, paid a visit to Sematawytefnakht, who gave him a gold ring (P. Rylands 9 14.11–14). The Leader of the Fleet thus enjoyed a certain number of priestly positions in Middle Egypt. If we are to believe the narrative of the Petition of Peteise, we must add to these two individuals Peteise I son of Itoru, who also may have been Leader of the Fleet like Peteise son of Chasheshonq, of whom he may have been a cousin, and then his own son (P. Rylands 9 6.5). The interest of Peteise III in claiming that his great-great-grandfather was Leader of the Fleet, thereby connecting his line with an important position, becomes thus understandable. 62   A. Leahy has very recently expressed doubts about the reality of this relationship. A. Leahy, “Somtutefnakht of Heracleopolis. The art and politics of self-commemoration in the seventh century BC,” in: La XXVIe dynastie continuité et rupture. Promenade avec Jean Yoyotte, D. Devauchelle, ed. (Paris, 2011), 197–219, esp. 218–219. 63   G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 708–713. 64   H. de Meulenaere, “Trois personnages saïtes,” CdÉ 31 (1956), 249–256, esp. 251–253. 65   G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 387–388; O. Perdu, RdÉ 57 (2006), 152–153. 66   A. Leahy, “Somtutefnakht of Heracleopolis,” in: La XXVIe dynastie, D. Devauchelle, ed., 217–218. 67   R. Caminos, JEA 50 (1964), pl. VIII, l.9.



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In the absence of any epigraphic element confirming his testimony, this part of the petition of Peteise III should be read with suspicion. In any case, this text enables us to understand the way in which a man living under Darius I perceived the position of Leader of the Fleet, which had long since ceased to exist but which seems to have retained a high level of prestige, on which Peteise III sought to base his case in order to justify his claims in the temple of Teudjoi. According to his narrative, just before becoming Leader of the Fleet, Peteise son of Itoru had exercised extensive financial activities in the Southern Land, where he had been both manager and tax collector (we learn from the text that taxes were paid in silver and grain). Peteise son of Chasheshonq, the “historical” Leader of the Fleet put forward the qualities of his cousin before the king. Since his assignment as inspector, “the Southern Land is very prosperous: its silver and its grain have increased from one to one and a half ” (P. Rylands 9. 6 1–2). During the conversation, we learn, from the own words of Psamtik I, or at least the king whom Peteise III places on the stage, what it meant to be Leader of the Fleet: “You inspected the Southern Land, you will (now) be responsible for its accounting” (dἰ=k mšd r p¡ t¡-rsy ἰ.ἰr(=y) r dἰ.t ἰp=w s ἰrm=k, P. Rylands 9 6.5). The Leader of the Fleet thus appears to have had financial duties; he was the revenue accountant for Middle and Upper Egypt, and thus was in some way concerned about the overall prosperity of this area. The renovation of the Teudjoi temple, which takes up the rest of the narrative, was part of this mission. The position of Leader of the Fleet does not seem to have survived the seventh century. Another passage in P. Rylands 9 (15.3) shows that by 592–591 (Year 4 of the reign of Psamtik II), the main authority over Teudjoi had changed (P. Rylands 9. 15.4). One Horudja son of Horkheby, a Sobek priest, held the title of governor (demotic ḥ ry) of Heracleopolis. Like the Leader of the Fleet, he had the right to award the position of holy servant of Amun of Teudjoi (P. Rylands 9. 15.4). There seems to have been a return to a more traditional division in nomes ruled from a capital city under the authority of a governor. This return to a tighter administrative network is the obvious sign of a greater control of Middle Egypt by the Saites. It is thus possible that the vast Southern Land, too large to be managed effectively as a single unit, was then cut off from Middle Egypt. As for the nautical function suggested by the title Leader of the Fleet but not mentioned in the sources, it may have been transferred to the holder of the title of Manager of the royal boats (ḥ ry n ʿḥ ʿ.w n nb t¡wy), likewise based in

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Heracleopolis. The oldest attested holder of this title is one Paakhraef (whom we shall discuss later). Since this person lived around the end of the reign of Psamtik I, it can be assumed that the position of Leader of the Fleet was abolished in the second part of this period and was broken up into at least two separate positions: a governor of Heracleopolis and a manager of the royal fleet. Conclusion The first part of the Saite period, covering the reigns of Psamtik I and Nekau II, was a phase of increasing territorial control over Egypt. The Saites began by submitting the Libyan aristocracy of the Delta, the very area from which they sprang, and then turned toward the Theban region, which seems to have offered a greater resistance. Initially infiltrated and recruited by the conciliatory Psamtik I, later definitively subdued because of the needs imposed by the Nubian campaign of Psamtik II in 592–591, the powerful clergy of Amun of ­Thebes ultimately had to rally to the Saite cause. In sum, the first Saite period, the seventh century, was a reign of skillful politics aimed at taking over the territory. The second period, the sixth century (the years 592–591 could well mark this turning point), was an age of administrative standardization, and P. Rylands 9 reveals a country divided into nomes (tš.w) (those of Oxyrhynchos, Hermopolis, and Cynopolis appear for exemple in 12. 20–21), even if the territorial powers of intermediate level between the nome and the city, like the “district-qʿḥ .t,” continue to be problematic.68 In a traditional manner, the nome was placed under the responsibility of a governor (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ),69 whose powers are described in a very interesting passage in P. Rylands 9 (19.8–13). In the second half of the Saite period the governor did not have police authority. As we have seen earlier, when the Manager of the antechamber asked the governor of the Heracleopolite nome (demotic pa Ḥ w.t-nn-nsw, literally “the man of Heracleopolis”) to take the case of Peteise III under consideration, he had to write a second letter to the general of the nome (demotic p¡ mr-mšʿ r-wn-n¡w n p¡ tš Ḥ w.t-nn-nsw, literally “the general who was in the nome of Heracleopolis”), one ­Psammetikeineith,   H. Kees, Zur Innenpolitik der Saïtendynastie, 95–106; R. Müller-Wollermann, “Demotische Termini zur Landesgliederung Ägyptens,” in: Life in a Multi-Cultural Society: Egypt from Cambyses to Constantine and Beyond, J.H. Johnson, ed. (Chicago, 1992), 243–247.  69   D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 75–77. 68



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asking for the arrest of the enemies of his protégé. The governor thus could not issue orders to the general; in other words, he did not have the power to command troops of soldiers or police agents stationed in the nome.70 However, there is an area that has been neglected in this outline: the Oasis of the western desert. There too, Saite control made itself felt. The oldest traces of the movement to reoccupy the Western Oases have been found in the oases of Dakhla and Bahariya. In Dakhla, the construction of the temple of Seth in Mut el-Kharab began under the reign of Psamtik I and continued under Psamtik II.71 Construction of the sanctuary of the site close to Amheida very probably began under Nekau II. The edifice also contains the cartouches of Psamtik II and Amasis.72 Moreover, it is certain that the Bahariya Oasis had a residing governor (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ n D̠ sd̠s) from the end of the seventh ­century.73 In contrast, the chronology of development under the Saites in the neighboring oasis of Kharga is more difficult to establish. It has been believed possible to link the foundation of the temple of Hibis to the reign of Psamtik II, but it has not been possible to provide conclusive evidence.74 In the Valley and in the oases, Saite power sought, first, full territorial sovereignty; once this was acquired, it would be threatened by the expansion of first Babylonian and later Persian imperial power. 2.  The Construction of a Military Tool: The Warrior King Saite Egypt cannot be compared with the imperial powers built up by the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Persians. While it was able from time to time to launch expeditions that penetrated deep into foreign territory (as Psamtik II did in Nubia), it never succeeded in establishing a permanent hegemony in the buffer zone of ­Syria-Palestine. In 70   M. Chauveau, “Administration centrale et autorités locales d’Amasis à Darius,” in: Égypte pharaonique: déconcentration, cosmopolitisme, B. Menu, ed. (Méditerranées 24; Paris, 2000), 105–106. 71   O. Kaper, “Two decorated blocks from the Temple of Seth in Mut el-Kharab,” BACE 12 (2001), 71–78, esp. 76. 72   O. Kaper, “A new temple for Thoth in the Dakhleh Oasis,” EA 29 (2006), 12–14. 73   F. Colin, “Le ‘Domaine d’Amon’ à Bahariya de la XVIIIe à la XXVIe dynastie: l’apport des fouilles de Qasr ‘Allam,” in: La XXVIe dynastie continuité et rupture. Promenade avec Jean Yoyotte, D. Devauchelle, ed. (Paris, 2011), 47–84. 74   E. Cruz-Uribe, “Hibis Temple Project. Preliminary Report of 2nd and 3rd Field Seasons,” Varia Aegyptiaca 3 (1987), 215–230, esp. 230.

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605, after the victory of Nabuchodonosor at Karkemish, the Egyptians were thrown out of Syria and Palestine. They then played a supporting role in the various anti-Babylonian and, later, anti-Persian parties and coalitions that formed in the region.75 This timid policy ended in failure. At the time of the invasion of Judea by Nabuchodonosor II, Apries sent troops to protect Jerusalem, which was under siege. But the Egyptians were beaten, and Jerusalem fell definitively into Babylonian hands in 586. Egypt was then directly threatened. This was the start of a new situation on the Near Eastern front. Oddly, Apries and above all Amasis successfully adopted a seemingly wait-and-see policy toward the powers of the East76 while expanding into the Mediterranean: “During the reign of Amasis, Saite Egypt experienced one of its most surprising military successes, with the conquest of Cyprus: “He (Amasis) is the first person to have seized the island of Cyprus and to have reduced it to paying tribute” (Herodotus II. 182). The information relayed by Herodotus in a single line is of considerable historical importance. For the first time, Egypt became a naval power in the Mediterranean. However, this strategy meant that the last Saites had to built a fleet out of nothing (2.2). This effort was part of a broader policy of adaptation of the military tool to the realities of war of the seventh and sixth centuries (2.1). 2.1  The Libyan Heritage and the Adaptation of the Military Tool: From Psamtik I to Nekau II Because of the very origins of the dynasty, the Saite army of the seventh century was largely inherited from Egypto-Libyan military formations that included infantrymen and archers commanded by generals who originated in the West (2.1.1). However, military needs were to lead the Saites to strengthen their mounted units (2.1.2) and to organize “foreign legions” composed of soldiers recruited from the East but also of Aegeans (2.1.3).

75   For a survey of the events and a bibliography, consult D. Kahn, “Some Remarks on the Foreign Policy of Psammetichus II in the Levant (595–589 B.C.),” JEH 1.1 (2008), 139–158. 76   D. Kahn & O. Tammuz, “Egypt is difficult to enter: Invading Egypt—A Game Plan (seventh–fourth centuries BCE),” JSSEA 35 (2008), 37–66, esp. 60.



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2.1.1  Generals, Infantrymen/Calasiries and Archers: The Egypto-Libyan Basis of the Army of Egypt In view of the ambiguity of the above-mentioned title of general (mr-mšʿ), the participation of an individual in the Saite military high command will be deduced from his holding of clearly military titles and positions. The title of chief of the troops (mr mnft) very clearly indicates a military person,77 but his activities cannot always be distinguished from the authority of the mr-mšʿ. Many Saite generals, during at least the first part of the period, are clearly of Libyan extraction.  One example is the general Keref, son of Osorkon, and known from a cube statue (Musée du Cinquantenaire E 7526).78 The general in chief (wr mr-mšʿ) Peteshahdedet has a name based on that of the Libyan goddess Shadedet (statue Petit Palais 307 on deposit in the Louvre).79 Still others, for example Sematayatefnakt, son of Peteise the Leader of the Fleet (cf. supra) and Djedptahiufankh (cf. supra), are natives of northern Egypt. Infantry and archers constituted the basis of the Saite army. Infantry combat is evoked dramatically on a fragment of a statue of General Neshor, a contemporary of Apries and Psamtik II: “the wake of the army the day of the braveheart battle, the day of the melee appeasing hearts unleashed, holding a recompense for each one” (= booty?).80 However, while we cannot describe the manner in which the Saite infantry was used on the battlefield, we do know that the infantrymen received specific training during maneuvers held in camps like the one delimited by six steles, the vestiges of which have been found at Dashur,81 very probably under the supervision of instructor officers like the directors of young army recruits (ḫ rp d̠m¡.w n nfr.w) such as Ouahibre son of Padihorresnet (Statue Caire CG 672, contemporary of Amasis).82 However, we have no idea of the recruitment conditions, or even if a clear distinction should be made with respect to the soldiers of the famous calasiries (dem. gl-šr) corps, who

  D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 89–90.   H. de Meulenaere, CdÉ 31 (1956), 255–256. 79   E. Revillout, “Statue d’un royal ministre, général des troupes, Oer Tep de sa majesté,” RÉg 2 (1881), 62–64; on this name, F. Colin, Les peuples libyens de la Cyrénaïque à l’Égypte d’après les sources de l’Antiquité classique (Bruxelles, 2000), 138. 80   O. Perdu, “Neshor à Mendès sous Apriès,” BSFE 118 (1990), 38–49. 81   O. Perdu, BSFE 105 (1986), 28–30; O. Perdu, Recueil des inscriptions royales saïtes, 43–53, document n° 6A–F. 82   R. El-Sayed, Documents relatifs à Saïs et à ses divinités (Cairo, 1975), 219–220. 77 78

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played the role of a police force under the orders of a general (mr-mšʿ).83 We know that the calasiries units were related to a category of scribes that could in certain cases (to be defined) collect rents.84 In the epigraphic documentation, the calasiries are designated by the archaizing title s¡-pr which reappeared in the Twenty-Sixth Dynasty.85 In close relation to the infantrymen, the Saite army organized groups of archers commanded by a specific officer, “commander of the corps of archers” (ḫ rp tm¡.t).86 It was moreover the Egyptian archers who inflicted the mortal blow on Josiah (2Chr. 35.23). 2.1.2  The Development of the Cavalry and the Frontier Guard The development of the cavalry is one of the characteristic traits of the Saite army, specially in its early phase. A study of the epigraphic documentation shows that in this period the use of the old title chief of horses (ἰmἰ-r¡ ssm.t) made a complete comeback at the expense of the title chief of teams (ἰmἰ-r¡ ḥ tr), in other words the chariots. Under Psamtik I, Iaa, known from an inscription on a cube statue preserved in the Vatican Museo Gregoriano (n° 195),87 was the chief of teams, and passed over this title to his son Paun. It is interesting to note that the chief of horses Sematawytefnakht, active under Amasis, also held the title of chief of Asian foreigners (ἰmἰ-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt stt.yw) (Cairo n° 27/11/58/8).88 Part of the Egyptian cavalry was very probably composed of fighters from the Eastern regions, where the equestrian culture was much more developed than it was in Egypt. Unfortunately, we are not able to determine the exact origin of these Asian cavalrymen. As we shall see later, Sematawytefnakht also held the position of Agent at the gateway to the Libyan foreign countries (ἰmἰ-r¡ ʿ¡ ḫ sw.t Tḥ nw). In this context, it is possible that the “Asian” ­cavalrymen were used on patrol 83   J.K. Winnicki, “Die Kalasirier der spätdynastischen und der ptolemäischen Zeit. Zu einem Problem der Ägyptischen Heeresgeschichte,” Historia, 26 (1977), 257–68; G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 472. 84   In the case of the P.Louvre E 7844, K. Donker van Heel, Djekhy & Son, 89. 85   J. Yoyotte, “Un corps de police de l’Égypte pharaonique,” RdÉ 9 (1952), 139–151, esp. 141. 86   Djedptahiupankh occupied this position under Psamtik I, H. de Meulenaere, BIFAO 63 (1965), 22. 87   G. Botti et P. Romanelli, Le sculture del Museo Gregoriano Egizio (Vatican, 1951), 44–45, pl. XXXVII. 88   E. Bresciani, “Una statua della XXVI dinastia con il cosidetto ‘abito persiano,’ ” SCO 16 (1967), 273–284, pl. I–V.



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within a frontier zone that posed problems for the Saites. Evidence of this is found in the narrative engraved on a stele discovered in 1957 to the west of the Pepy II pyramid. In this Königsnovelle, in year 11 of his reign (654–653) King Psamtik I is faced with a movement of men and women from the Libyan West whom he wants to repel by force.89 It is thus completely possible that the Saite cavalry was used particularly to guard vast frontier areas, before being used on the battlefield. (For example, their presence at Karkemish is attested to, Jeremiah 46, 3–4 et 9). 2.1.3  The First Saite “Foreign Legions” From the very beginning the Saite pharaohs relied on foreign contingents, composed of fighters whom the Greek soldiers in Saite Egypt called alloglossoi.90 The oldest chief of foreigners is Djeptahiufank, who held the title of leader of foreigners (sšm ḫ ¡sw.t) according to the dorsal pillar, and in the principal inscription the title of mouth of His Majesty among the Asians (r¡ n ḥ m=f m-q¡b T̠ t) implying, if our understanding of this title is correct, that he translated royal orders into the language of these “Asians.” Psamtik I also turned his attention to the Aegean world. According to Herodotus, Gyges, king of Lydia, sent military assistance to him.91 Whatever the reality of this story, thanks to a cube statue found in a grotto near Priene, we have exceptional evidence of the existence of an Aegean military force in Egypt under the first Saites. The statue bears an epigraph in Greek left by a certain Pedon son of Amphinneos whom a Psamtik king—very probably the first king of that name—rewarded for his “virtue” (gr. arètè) with a gold bracelet and an Egyptian village.92 89   Perdu, BSFE 105 (1986), 27–28; R.K. Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy: Inscriptions from Egypt’s Third Intermediate Period (Atlanta, 2009), 585–587. 90   E. Bernand & O. Masson, “Les inscriptions grecques d’Abou-Simbel,” Revue des Études Grecques 70 (1957), 1–46, esp. 5–10; A.E. Veïsse, “L’expression de l’altérité dans l’Egypte des Ptolémées: allophulos, xénos et barbaros,” Revue des Etudes Grecques 120 (2007), 50–63, esp. 61. 91   F.K. Kienitz, Die politische Geschichte, 11–12. 92   M.Ç. Şahin, “Zwei Inschriften aus dem südwestlichen Kleinasien,” Epigraphica Anatolica 10 (1987), 1–2; O. Masson & J. Yoyotte, “Une inscription ionienne mentionnant Psammétique Ier”, Epigraphica Anatolica 11 (1988), 171–180; C. Ampolo & E. Bresciani, “Psammetico re d’Egitto e il mercenario Pedon,” EVO 11 (1988), 237–253; G. Vittmann, Ägypten und die Fremden im ersten vorchristlichen Jahrtausend (Mainz, 2003), 203–205; P.W. Haider, “Epigraphische Quellen zur Integration von Griechen

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damien agut-labordère 2.2  Ships and Aegeans: The Saite contribution ( from Psamtik II to Amasis)

2.2.1  Birth of the Egyptian Military Navy Herodotus mentions the construction during the reign of Nekau II of triremes that cruised the Red Sea as well as the Mediterranean (II.159). In this passage, the existence of these fleets is related closely to control of Palestine and particularly the taking of Gaza. The Saite presence on both sides of the Sinai isthmus was aimed at control of the flow of trade transiting between southern Arabia and the Mediterranean.93 While combatting piracy can always be considered one reason, it could only be secondary in a policy of naval outfitting that was inevitably very expensive for the Saite crown. Basically, the goal of the construction of these two fleets was the same as that of the other major con­ struction project begun by Nekau II: the digging of a canal linking the Nile with the Red Sea (Hereodotus II. 158). This waterway made it possible to divert to Egypt the flow of trade between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean while avoiding transshipment operations, and hence to impose a tax on merchants. This desire to control the “incense routes” recalls an event reported, here again, by Herodotus (IV.42), namely, the dispatch of a Phoenician exploratory mission to circumnavigate Africa. Supposing that it did in fact take place,94 we must then assume that this time Nekau II was planning to gain control of a route linking the Red Sea with the Western Mediterranean, without taking into account the north/south length of the African continent. However, the oldest extant attestation of a Saite admiral dates from the reign of Psamtik II. Hor, surnamed Psamtik, is known to us from a naophorous fragment of a statue (Manchester Museum

in die ägyptische Gesellschaft der Saitenzeit,” in: Naukratis; die Beziehungen zu Ostgriechenland, Ägypten und Zypern in archaischer Zeit. Akten der Table Ronde in Mainz, 25.–27. November 1999, U. Höckmann, ed. (Möhnesee, 2001), 197–201. 93   J.C. Moreno-García, “L’évolution des statuts de la main-d’œuvre rurale en Égypte de la fin du Nouvel Empire à l’époque saïte,” in: Travail de la terre et statut de la maind’œuvre en Méditerranée archaïque, VIIIe–VIIe siècles. Table-ronde Athènes 15–16 décembre 2008, J. Zurbach, ed. (Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique; ­Athens, in press). 94   This is refuted by A.B. Lloyd, “Necho and the Red Sea: Some Considerations,” JEA 63 (1977), 142–155.



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3570).95 Hor is chief of royal combat vessels in the Mediterranean (mr ʿḥ ʿ.w nsw n ʿḥ ¡ m W¡d̠-wr). A study of the other components of his titles shows that he was a high officer who specialized in the command of Greek and/or Carian troops. He was in fact commander of Aegean foreign (troups) (ḫ rp ḫ ¡sty.w Ḥ ¡w-nbw), played the role of “counselor for Greek affairs” to the king, and was the “confidant of the king in (the domain) of Aegean foreign countries” (mḥ -ἰb n nsw m ḫ ¡sw.t Ḥ ¡w-nbw). These two areas of competence, the world of the sea and of the Greeks, must not have been strangers to each other. Like Udjahorresnet several decades later, who also held positions in the navy and commanded a troop of Greeks, the crews of the vessels of the fleet commanded by Hor must have been composed of Hellenes. The military port of the Saite fleet was probably the Prw nfr of Memphis. This raises the difficult question of which vessels were moored there. Here the hieroglyphic inscriptions can be a source of confusion. In his admiral title, Hor mentions “royal combat vessels” (ʿḥ ʿ.w nsw n ʿḥ ¡), while Udjahorresnet is “chief of vessels-kebenet of the king” (ἰmἰ-r¡ kbn.wt nsw).96 In contrast to the fairly generic term ʿḥ ʿ “boat” (with a mast), kbn.t is a specialized term designating ocean-going vessels in the New Kingdom.97 The fact that Udjahorresnet, like Hor, held positions in the army, especially at the head of Aegean troops, would point in the direction of warships. A.B. Lloyd supposed that they were ships related to trieres.98 The picture on an Egypto-Carian mortuary stele found in Memphis and now preserved in the Lausanne Museum (Musée historique cantonal n° 4727) is thus very certainly a depiction of one of these vessels.99 This graffito is found on the bottom register in 95  W.M.F. Petrie, Hyksos and Israelite Cities (London, 1906), 18–19, pl. XV et XX; C. Vandersleyen, Le delta et la vallée du Nil, le sens du mot w¡d̠ wr (Brussels, 2008), 38, 87, 106, n° 217. 96   P.M. Chevereau, Prosopographie des cadres militaires égyptiens, 324–325. This title reappears during the Thirtieth Dynasty, F. von Kaenel, “Les mésaventures du conjurateur de Serket Onnophris et de son tombeau,” BSFE 87–88 (1980), 31–45, esp. 44. 97   L. Bradbury, “Kpn-boats, Punt Trade, and a Lost Emporium,” JARCE 23 (1996), 37–60. 98   A.B. Lloyd, “The Inscription of Udjahorresnet: a Collaborator’s Testament,” JEA 68 (1982), 166–80, esp. 168–169, countered by J.C. Darnell, “The kbn.wt Vessels of the Late Period,” in: Life in a Multi-Cultural Society, J.H. Johnson, ed., 67–89. There is an assessment of these questions in A. B. Lloyd, “Saite Navy,” in: The Sea in Antiquity, G.J. Oliver, R. Brock, T.J. Cornell & S. Hodkinson, eds. (Oxford, 2000), 81–91.   99   O. Masson & J. Yoyotte, Objets pharaoniques à inscriptions cariennes (Cairo, 1956), 20–27, fig. 13, pl. II; I.J. Adiego-Lajara, The Carian Language (Leiden – Boston, 2006), 38–39.

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O. Masson et J. Yoyotte, Objets pharaoniques à inscriptions cariennes (Cairo, 1956), 20–27, fig. 13, pl. II From the facsimile reproduced in this work. (Retouching done by S. Larabi, Collège de France)

a frame in which one would expect to find a funerary text.The prow of the vessel is equipped with an embolos (truncated rostrum), while the curved poop has the shape of an aphlaston holding a cabin in which the pedalion (rudder) is installed. We must therefore find H. Hauben correct when he analyzes the Saite building of the Egyptian military navy as a prefiguration of that of the Lagides.100 2.2.2  Recourse to Aegean Combatants The Mediterranean strategy involved recourse to Aegean sailors on a massive scale (the Persians were to do the same with the Phoenicians) placed under the supervision of a chief of Aegean foreign (troops) (ἰmἰ-r¡ ḫ ¡s.wt Ḥ ¡w-nbw) or perhaps, on a lower hierarchical level, a commander of Aegean foreign (troops) (ḫ rp ḫ ¡sty.w Ḥ ¡w-nbw). According to Herodotus (II.154) and Diodorus (I.66), Carians and Ionians supposedly came to assist him in establishing his power over Egypt. He then supposedly installed these men in an indeterminate area called the “Camps” (Stratopeda). Except for the statue of Pedon son of Amphinneos, no archaeological or ­epigraphical element confirms the existence of Aegean combattants engaged in Egypt during this reign.

  H. Hauben, “L’apport égyptien à l’armée navale lagide,” in: Das Ptolemäische Ägypten, Akten des internationalen Symposions, 27–29 September 1976, H. Maehler, ed. (Berlin, 1978), 59–94. 100



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The first epigraphic attestations of the presence of Greek and Carian soldiers in Egypt date from the reign of Psamtik II.101 We have seen earlier the case of the commander of the Aegean foreign (troops), Hor, who served under this king. The inscriptions in Greek engraved on the legs of the Abu-Simbel colossi by one Potasimto (= Padisematawy), commander of the contingents of mercenaries during the expedition launched by Psamtik II in 592–591, also date from his reign. In addition to this epigraph, several other documents shed light on the life of this Egyptian leader of an Aegean contingent. We learn from a statue preserved in the Louvre Museum (E 13109) that he was a native of the city of Pharbaitos in the eastern Delta (Tell Horbeit).102 Along with the “Aegean legion” commanded by Potasimto, there was an Egyptian unit under the orders of a certain Amasis, perhaps the chief of troops (mr mnft) known from a statue fragment (Cairo CG 895).103 At this point in our discussion, we need to make a distinction between two very different types of combatants from other countries. The first was composed of mercenaries who crossed the Mediterranean to enter the service of an Egyptian king in connection with a specific campaign. We know practically nothing about this type of soldier, whose presence in Egypt was necessarily brief. In contrast, we know more about the Aegeans who settled permanently on the banks of the Nile, for example the famous Caromemphites, who have left an abundant epigraphic documentation.104 Some Carians seem to have regarded Egypt as their new country, to the point of choosing the Egyptian onomastic for their children. According to Herodotus (II.154), it was Amasis who

101   For the Carian graffiti, see O. Masson “Remarques sur les graffites cariens d’Abou-Simbel,” in: Mélanges offerts à la mémoire de Serge Sauneron, II (Cairo, 1979), 35–48; I.J. Adiego-Lajara, The Carian Language, 115–119. 102   J. Yoyotte, “Potasimto de Pharbaïtos et le titre de ‘Grand combattant-maître du triomphe,’ ” CdÉ 28 (1953), 101–108 with the corrections made by H. de Meulenaere, CdÉ 31 (1956); supplement with S. Pernigotti, “Il general Potasimto e la sua famiglia,” SCO 17 (1968), 251–264 and Id. “Una nuova statuette funeraria a nome di Potasimto di Pharbaithos,” SEAP 9 (1991), 251–264; G. Vittmann, Ägypten und Fremden, 61, p. 100. 103   G. Lefebvre, “Ποτασιμτω,” BSAA 21/6 (1925), 55–56. 104   Most of these epigraphs are found in O. Masson & J. Yoyotte, Objets pharaoniques à inscriptions cariennes (Cairo, 1956) and O. Masson, Carian Inscriptions from North Saqqâra and Buhen (London, 1978). See, generally speaking, G. Vittmann, Ägypten und Fremden, 155–179 (Chapter VI. Die Karer in Ägypten). These documents have moreover been republished by I.J. Adiego-Lajara, The Carian Language, 30 et seq.

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moved the Carians of Egypt, who until then had been living in the Bubastis region, to Memphis. We should note that the Carians were not the only Aegeans to settle in Egypt. For example, Theocles, the father of Psammetichus, the pilot who led the expedition of Potasimto and Amasis, gave his child the name of an Egyptian king, a sign that the link between his family and Egypt was anything but temporary. The Aegeans are obviously not the only foreigners to have participated in the Saite war effort in the sixth century. Mention must also be made of the Cypriots,105 the Judeans,106 and the Phoenicians.107 The presence of these non-Egyptian troops in the Saite armies nevertheless constituted a powerful factor of political destabilization. The text on the statue Louvre A 90 belonging to Neshor, a high-level Saite administrator who supervised customs operations in southern and northern Egypt, shows that a mutiny of foreign combatants occurred in Elephantine during the reign of Apries.108 This was a case of an on the whole benign case of rebellious combatants (“barbarians-ʿ¡m.w, Aegeans and Asians”) for a reason not known to us, who had decided to flee to Nubia. Conclusion Ultimately, it was in the south, against the Kushites, that the Saites recorded their most outstanding victories, including the most decisive event, the 592–591 campaign of Psamtik II. Perhaps it will be necessary in the future to somewhat re-evaluate our analysis of Saite strategy, and to find that before the Persian menace became more obvious, Nubia represented a priority for Saite foreign policy. In any case, the sixth century, and more particularly the reign of Amasis, witnessed the establishment of an original maritime strategy turned toward the Mediterranean, a choice that was to be crowned with success, initially on the military level, then with the taking of Cyprus by diplomatic means, and later with the alliance between Egypt and

105   H. Cassimatis, “Des Chypriotes chez les pharaons,” Les Cahiers du Centre d’Études Chypriotes 1 (1984), 33–38; G. Vittmann, Ägypten und Fremden, 44–83. 106   D. Kahn, “Judean Auxiliaries in Egypt’s Wars against Kush,” JAOS 127/4 (2007), 507–516. 107   P.C. Schmitz, “The Phoenician contingent in the campaign of Psammetichus II against Kush,” JEH 3/2 (2010), 321–337.  108   H. Schäfer, “Die Auswanderung der Krieger unter Psammetich I. und der Söldneraufstand in Elephantine unter Apries,” Klio IV (1904), 152–163, 4 pl.



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Polycrates of Samos, along with the Ionian cities around Chios109 and Lydia under Cresus (Herodotus I.77.2). For Egypt, a Mediterranean policy involved the construction of a fleet, the size of which, still less the cost, obviously cannot be determined. But we can assume that it was very high, since Egypt lacked the basic materials necessary for a pre-industrial naval power: wood for construction. The sixth-century Saite sovereigns thus had to import everything: wood, engineers, and crews. It can thus legitimately be assumed that the Mediterranean strategy must have constituted a heavy burden for the crown finances. 3.  The Crown Finances If there is one point on which all the historical literature is in agreement, it is this: The reign of Amasis was characterized by a thorough reform of the Egyptian financial administration. Without prejudging the matter (we shall return to the subject at the end of this third section), an examination of the epigraphic documentation shows that the Saite financial and fiscal administration became more substantial throughout the sixth century. An example is the return of the old titles of Agent for the domains (ἰmἰ-r¡ pr.w) and Agent for the treasures (ἰmἰ-r¡ pr.w-ḥ d̠) during the reign of Apries.110 The most important aspect, however, concerns the modifications perceptible in two areas of economic management: the management of the assets of the king (3.1) and taxation (3.2). 3.1  The Improvement of an Administration Dedicated to Management of the Royal Properties The royal domain consisted in a number of properties located throughout the country. These were, obviously, areas of land along with quarries, fisheries, flocks, ships, and other assets; in short, everything that an agricultural economy considers means of production. The supervision and management of this type of structure must have been all the more complex in a country like Egypt, extending over more than a thousand kilometers. Tax revenues were in addition to the revenues from the

109   A. Bresson, “Naucratis: de l’emporion à la cité,” TOPOI 12–13 (2005), 133–155, spécialement pp. 150–151. 110   Generally speaking, D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 29–35.

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exploitation of the royal domain. Generally speaking, the sixth-century pharaohs appear to have paid attention to a better management of their assets by establishing an accounting office (3.1.1) and centralizing the command of the freight fleet that linked the various domains of the crown (3.1.2). The existence of a senti, appointed to manage temple affairs, is attested to at the end of the Saite period (3.1.3). 3.1.1  The Manager of the Scribes of the Council: The General Manager of the Royal Accounting System The existence of an accounting office is attested in the epigraphic documentation emanating from top-level royal administrators holding the title of Manager of the scribes of the concil (ἰmἰ-r¡ sš(w) d̠¡d̠¡.t). Olivier Perdu has traced the existence of this position in a very insightful article.111 The oldest known holder of this title is one Pefteuawyimen, surnamed Psammetichenefer, “beautiful name” that indicates that he was a contemporary of Psamtik II.112 His existence is documented in particular by a statue from the temple of Ptah in Memphis (Turin, ME cat. No. 3020).113 Since this is the only known title for him, it is not possible to trace the career that led him to assume this important technical duty. Such is not the case for Tjaennahebu, known particularly from his tomb at Saqqara.114 Before holding this position, he was Manager of the royal boats, which indicates that he must have been a specialist in logistics and management.115 The same profile characterizes the career followed by Wahibremeryptah, who likewise occupied the positions of Manager of the two granaries (ἰmἰ-r¡ šnwty) and Manager of the scribes of the High Camp (ἰmἰ-r¡ sšw ḫ nr.t wr.t).116 Under the Persians, Udjahorresnet son of Hor, who lived during the first Persian occupation, held this position.117 The other positions that he

  O. Perdu, “Le directeur des scribes du conseil,” RdÉ 49 (1998), 175–194.   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 175–194. 113   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 177–178. 114   E. Bresciani, in E. Bresciani, S. Pernigotti, and M.P. Giangeri Silvis, La tomba di Ciennehebu, capo della flotta del re (Tombe d’età saitica a Saqqara 1), Pisa, 1977, pp. 30–40 and pl. VII–XII. 115   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 178. 116   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 179. 117   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 187; G. Vittmann, in: Organisation des pouvoirs, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds., 101–102. 111 112



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held clearly correspond to a manager. He too was in particular a scribe (attached) to the royal boats (sš nsw n ʿḥ ʿ.w). The Manager of the scribes of the Concil headed a kind of audit office composed of scribes of the Council (sšw d̠¡d̠¡.t), who have been identified with the scribes recording all matters in the Council (sšw ḥ sb ḫ .t nb.t m d̠¡d̠¡.t).118 It is therefore possible that this office centralized, for purposes of verification, the transactions recorded by the royal accounting scribes (sh̠ n Pr-ʿ¡ ἰw-f ἰp) dispersed throughout the various royal domains.119 At the head of this structure, the Manager of the scribes of the Council may have been in charge of evaluating the Crown wealth; however, nothing suggests that he played a role in its management. 3.1.2  The Manager of the Royal Boats The second half of the Saite period, and more particularly the reign of Amasis, witnessed the proliferation of another title in relation to the management of the royal domain. This was the title of Manager of the royal boats (ἰmἰ-r¡ ḥ ʿ.w nsw), to which J.C. Goyon has devoted an important study.120 The oldest attestation (under the form ἰmἰ-r¡ ʿḥ ʿ.w nsw) is that of a certain Paakhraef, known from two statues bearing the cartouche of Psamtik I.121 The title reappears in the same form on the ushabtis statues of one Yulehen during the reign of Psamtik II.122 Not until the reign of Amasis is there a reappearance of this title, held by one Hekemsaf, the title-holder whose career is by far the best documented.123 The position of Manager of the royal boats appears to have been one of the highest positions that he occupied; in any case, it is the one that appears on his very beautiful ushebtis.124 The other titles known from the inscriptions on his tomb in Saqqara

  O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 189.   O. Perdu, RdÉ 49 (1998), 190–192. 120   J.Cl. Goyon, “La statuette funéraire I.E. 84 de Lyon et le titre saïte [. . .],” BIFAO 67 (1969), pp. 159–171. 121   S. Pernigotti, “Una statua du Pakhraf (Cairo JE. 37171),” RSO 44 (1969), 259–271, pl. 1–5; O. Perdu, “Une autre trace de la déesse Âayt dans l’onomastique hérakléopolitaine et l’origine du chef de la flotte Pakhrof,” RdÉ 40 (1989), 195–197; G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 711–713. 122   J.Cl. Goyon, BIFAO 67 (1969), 167. 123   J.Cl. Goyon, BIFAO 67 (1969), 159–165. 124   J.Cl. Goyon, BIFAO 67 (1969), 159–161. 118 119

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and on his sarcophagus show, here again, managerial capabilities: in particular, he was, like Udjahorresnet son of Hor, Manager of the scribes of the High Camp (ἰmἰ-r¡ sšw ḫ nr.t wr.t). The same profile characterizes Tjennahebu, mentioned somewhat earlier. Lastly, there is Psammetichimeriptah, whose Serapeum stele (Louvre 4019) reveals that his activity as Manager of the royal boats took place after the year 15 in the reign of Amasis (556–555).125 Even if three of the five holders identified served under Amasis, we cannot ascribe the establishment of the position of Manager of the royal boats to this sovereign. Its existence dates from at least the second half of the reign of Psamtik I and his reform of the administration in Middle Egypt. This title thus appears at a very early period, and very definitely postdates the elimination of the position of Leader of the Fleet, probably after the management of the Heracleopolite nome and, more generally, the “Southern Land,” was separated from that of the royal fleet (see pp. 983–989). Based on his title, the Manager of the royal boats must have been in charge of organizing freight movements between the various parts of the royal domain, and perhaps of supervising exports of their products to the Mediterranean world via the Delta. Unfortunately, on this point the Saite documentation is non-existent; the only customs record that has come down to us dates from the Persian period.126 The same comment can be made with respect to the management of the royal boats. A petition written in Aramaean and concerning the management of the royal boats dates from the Achaemenid period. This document is addressed to the Satrape Arsama—the title of Manager of the royal boats is no longer attested at this point— by a group of administrators present in Elephantine, and concerns a royal boat that is in need of major repairs. A study of the text shows that the vessel was part of a semi-private system in which the sailors to whom the vessel had been entrusted could use it for their own business but had to submit to the orders of the central administration when they were ordered to do so.127 However, this document enables us to determine the scope of the work of the Manager of royal boats. In   J.Cl. Goyon, BIFAO 67 (1969), 164–165.   B. Porten & A. Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents of Ancient Egypt, III (Jerusalem, 1993), C1.1–2; P. Briant & R. Descat, “Un registre douanier de la satrapie d’Égypte à l’époque achéménide (TAD C3,7),” in: Le commerce en Égypte ancienne, N. Grimal & B. Menu, eds. (Cairo, 1998), 59–104. 127   B. Porten & A. Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents of Ancient Egypt, I (Jerusalem, 1986), A6.2. 125 126



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addition to logistics matters, he also had to ensure the good ­condition of the royal fleet. One of the most intriguing documents concerning nautical affairs during the Saite period comes from Elephantine. It is a fragment of a granite stele containing a list of boats detailing the composition of a fleet inventoried by type of boat and number of units of each type.128 This document, discovered in the environs of the temple of Satis, is unfortunately very fragmentary, and its interpretation is extremely difficult, especially since line 3 mentions a “revolt” by the Nubians. 3.1.3  Supervision of Temple Properties: The Example of the Manager of the Fields The history of the Egyptian administration of this period is characterized by the development of positions involving the supervision of temple properties. The position of Agent for the division of offerings (ἰmἰ-r¡ wpw ḥ tp-ntr) dedicated to supervising the management of the sacred domains129 is attested, in the Saite era, by at least two contemporaries of Psamtik I. Both of them are Thebans, and they hold the primary title of vizier (t̠¡ty). Nespakachuty is known from his tomb (TT 312), while his colleague Harsiese has left a statue (Phil. Univ. Mus. E 16025).130 However, it is difficult to define the role of these high-level administrators. More generally, not until the end of the Saite period and the reign of Amasis do we see direct intervention by the royal power challenging the takeovers of land by a temple, in this case that of Amun of Teudjoi. P. Rylands 9 (16,1–18) shows a royal administrator holding the title of Manager of the fields (mr ¡ḥ ) arriving at Teudjoi and finding two property-management irregularities. At the source of the first of these offenses, one Hormakhoru son of Ptahortais, a highly-placed dignitary with interests in several nomes and protector of the priests of Amun of Teudjoi, obtained, on the pretext of providing for the operation of the royal worship cult, 120 arures (approximately 33 hectares)

  Chr. Müller in H. Jaritz et alii, “Stadt und Tempel von Elephatine. 5. Grabungsbericht,” MDAIK 31 (1975), 39–84, esp. 83–84, pl. 28b; F. Junge, Elephantine XI: Funde und Bauteile (Mainz, 1987), 66–67, § 6.2 and pl. 40c; K. Jansen-Winkeln, “Zur Schiffsliste aus Elephantine,” GM 109 (1989), 31. 129   M. Valloggia, Recherche sur les “messagers” (wpwtyw) dans les sources égyptiennes profanes (Geneva-Paris, 1976), 35. 130   H. de Meulenaere, JEA 68 (1982), 139–144, 4 pl. 128

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of land for the statue of the pharaoh Amasis installed in Teudjoi. He was, precisely, the first priest in charge, since he was its holy servant (ḥ m ntr), a position that made him the principal beneficiary of the revenue of the small agricultural holding thereby created. The Manager of the fields pointed out that such a donation was illegal, citing the example of the erection of an identical statue in the temple of Heracleopolis that had not been accompanied by such a favor (16,8–9). But he did not stop there, he took advantage of the opportunity to discover a second irregularity. The priests of Teudjoi had appropriated a 255-hectare island opposite their city. To punish the offenders, the royal administrator confiscated the statue domain, the island, and 4,000 sacks of grain harvested from the lands held illegally. In his speech (P. Rylands 9.17.12–19), pronounced before the king himself, the Manager of the fields appears as the guardian of property integrity in charge of ensuring that land belonging to the royal domain was not improperly annexed by a temple (as in the case of the island), and that the products of such lands were not diverted by dishonest individuals.131 The agricultural tax map must have been the principal work tool of this high-level administrator.132 3.1.4  The Saite senti The oldest attestation of this title was recently identified by Michel Chauveau.133 It appears on a Saite administrative document copied onto a Ptolemaic-era ostracon discovered at Karnak (O. Karnak LS 462.4). It would seem to be an inventory ordered by Psamtik I in the year 28 of his reign (637–638) following the lossses caused by an exceptional powerful inundation. This operation was performed under the direction of the senti Peftaukhons son of Pnikek. Are we to conclude from this that the senti already existed in the seventh century? Nothing is less certain. As we shall see later, epigraphy attests to its existence at the end of the Saite period, at the earliest. The senti who appears in O. Karnak LS 462.4 leads us to conclude that it is a reformulation of an old title by Ptolemaic-era scribes. Absent from the 131   M. Chauveau, “Titres et fonctions en Égypte perse d’après les sources égyptiennes,” in: Organisations des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans l’Empire achéménide, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds. (Persika 14; Paris, 2009), 123–131, esp. 128. 132   J. Yoyotte, CRAIBL (1989), 75. 133   M. Chauveau, “Le saut dans le temps d’un document historique: des Ptolémées aux Saïtes,” in: La XXVIe dynastie continuité et rupture. Promenade avec Jean Yoyotte, D. Devauchelle, ed. (Paris, 2011), 39–45.



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portion of P. Ryland 9 that covers the end of the Saite period, the senti appears in the first portion of the petition, which covers the reign of Darius I. This is in fact the period of the existence of the oldest sentis attested to by epigraphy:134 Horudja son of Tesnakht (Statue of Cleveland 1920.1978)135 and Hor son of Udjahorresnet (known from two steles from the Serapeum, Louvre C 317 and IM 4018).136 The genealogy indicated by the later on the Louvre C 317 stele mentions another senti, his great-grandfather Horkheby, who would thus have held his position in the time of Amasis. The scope of the task assigned to the senti is difficult to establish. We could extrapolate from what we know of the Hellenistic senti. However, this seems risky and could create an anachronism. At best, we can study the role played by the person holding this position in the first part of P. Rylands 9. Peteise III files a complaint with him, and the lengthy second report tracing the entire family history of Peteise I is addressed to him. In this specific case, he is assigned to arbitrate conflicts among the priests of the domain of Amun of Teudjoi. In summary, the second part of the Saite period witnesses the development of a financial administration. The Manager of the scribes of the council manages the audit office of the Royal Household. The Manager of the royal boats handles logistics liaisons among the various parts of the royal domain. An inspection office composed of Managers of the fields is in charge of protecting the royal lands and their products from attempts at seizure. The senti, top-level administrator in charge of the sacred domains, appears at the very end of the period. Thus, even if the position of Manager of boats existed from the second part of the reign of Psamtik I, the proliferation of these titles related to finance and economy begins in the reign of Psamtik II. Generally speaking, then, it was especially in the sixth century that the Saites become concerned with improving the close management of the crown properties and defending them against the appetites of the temples and speculation. This trend in the history of Saite administrative history to

134  We cannot determine with certainty if they operated under Amasis or under the Persians; G. Vittmann in: Organisation des pouvoirs, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds., 100–101. 135   B. Bothmer, Egyptian Sculpture of the Late Period, 72–73, n° 61, pl. 58; L.M. Berman & K.J. Bohač, ed., The Cleveland Museum of Art. Catalogue of Egyptian Art (New York, 1999), 422–423, n° 316. 136   J. Yoyotte, CRAIBL (1989), 79–80, this is individual B in the appendix on page 87; G. Vittmann in: Organisation des pouvoirs, P. Briant & M. Chauveau, eds., 101 n. 64.

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move from a royal administration composed of relatively autonomous members with poorly defined powers (the most flagrant example of this type of administrator is the Leader of the Fleet) to specialized departments composed of financial, tax, logistics, and other specialists assigned to monitor local administrations is more closely visible in the financial area. 3.2  Expansion of the Tax Domain The second part of the Saite period was also characterized by definite strengthening of the customs administration (3.2.1) and increased tax control over the assets of individuals (3.2.2). 3.2.1  Collection of Trade Revenues: The Agents at the Gate “Gates,” or customs stations, had existed at the frontiers of Egypt from early times. However, the epigraphy of the Saite period testifies to an unprecedented development of customs administration, corresponding very certainly to the advance of trade activities in the Mediterranean area and the Near East.137 This documentation has been assembled by G. Posener in an article that is fundamental for any study of the subject.138 The top administrators who managed the Saite customs administration held the title of Agent at the gate of foreign countries (ἰmy-r¡ ʿ¡ ḫ ¡s.wt). One of them was Wahibre, who served under Amasis, and for whom we have a sizable epigraphic file. Of Saite origin, he appears to have been initially a soldier in charge of Nubian contingents; in effect, he was commander of southern foreign (troops) (ḫ rp ḫ ¡sty.w rsy.w, Cairo JE 34043),139 and held (subsequently?) a top position in the Saite army (Statue BM EA 111).140 In any case, he was knowledgeable in Nubian affairs, since he also held the position of Agent at the southern gate (ἰmy-r¡ ʿ¡ rsy.w) (particularly on statue

137   J.C. Moreno-García in: Travail de la terre et statut de la main-d’œuvre en Méditerranée archaïque, VIIIe–VIIe siècles, J. Zurbach, ed. (Bulletin de correspondance Hellénique, Supplément; Athens) (in press). 138   G. Posener, “Les douanes de la Méditerranée dans l’Egypte saïte,” Revue de Philologie 21 (1947), 117–131; D. Pressl, Beamte und Soldaten, 70–73. 139   H. Gauthier, “À travers la Basse Egypte (suite), X.—Un notable de Salüs: Ouahab-Re,” ASAE 22 (1922), 81–107, esp. 88–89. 140   H. Gauthier, ASAE 22 (1922), 85–88.



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Cairo 34044).141 The oldest holder of this title for the Saite period is none other than the vizier Harsiese (Statue Phil. Univ. Mus. E 16025 x + 3),142 perhaps a contemporary of Psamtik I. If this date proved to be correct, it would show that management of the southern customs administration was turned over to a Saite administrator at a very early period. Before then, it was probably in the hands of Montuemhat, and after Harsiese it passed, directly or otherwise, to one Horudja, who lived during the time of Nechao II, and who is known by a statue fragment (Petrie Museum UC 14634) and a situla (OIC 11395).143 On the first of these documents, he holds the vague title of Agent at the gate of foreign countries, specified in more detail in the second document: Agent at the gate of southern foreign countries (ἰmy-r¡ ʿ¡.w ḫ ¡s. wt rsy.w). It can be noted that on these two documents this position is shown first, while in the case of Harsiese it was placed in second position, after the vizirate. It is thus possible that with the strengthening of Saite power in Thebes it was thought useful to have an administrator devoted exclusively to customs management. After Horudja, no other holder of this position is attested until the reign of Apries: this was the famous general Neshor. The text of statue Louvre A 90 provides a summary of the pre-eminent nature of the position of Agent at the gate: “His Majesty called upon him to fill a very high position, a position belonging to his eldest son, that is, Agent at the gate of the southern foreign countries, for the purpose of repelling weak foreigners. In this regard he aroused fear among the southern foreigners by pushing them aside” (col. 1).144 This passage clearly shows that the Agent at the gate was in charge of ensuring the sealing of the frontier and preventing groups of non-Egyptians from entering Saite territory. Moreover, a document that is highly peculiar but is difficult to exploit, P. Berlin 13165,145 mentions the passage of a caravan under military 141   H. Gauthier, ASAE 22 (1922), 88–89, but also statue Bologna 1820, P.-M. Cheve­ reau, Prosopographie des cadres militaires égyptiens, 107–109 (doc. 142) and 387. 142   H. de Meulenaere in: Studies in Honour of the Centenary of the Egypt Exploration Society 1882–1982, 140. 143   M. Lichtheim, “Situla N°11395 and Some Remarks on Egyptian Situlae,” JNES 6 (1947), 169–179, pl. V–VI. 144   H. Schäfer, Klio IV (1904); for another document attesting to this title of Neshor, cf. P.Vernus, “Une statue de Neshor surnommé Psamétik-Menkhib,” RdÉ 42 (1991), 241–249. 145  W. Erichsen, “Erwähnung eines Zuges nach Nubien unter Amasis in einem demotischen Text,” Klio 34 (1941), 56–61, 1 pl.; K.-Th. Zauzich, “Ein Zug nach Nubien unter Amasis,” in: Life in a Multi-Cultural Society. Egypt from Cambyses to Constantine and Beyond, J.H. Johnson, ed. (Chicago, 1992), 371–374.

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protection in the year 41 of the reign of Amasis (530–529). It is possible that this type of escort was placed under the protection of the top administrator in charge of security in the frontier area, in other words the Agent at the gate of the southern foreign countries. Not until the Thirtieth Dynasy did this title reappear, on the statue of a certain Psamtik initially ascribed to the Saite period146 but the dating of which has now been revised.147 The biography of Neshor shows that during the reign of Apries he had to deal with a mutiny of foreign, particularly Asian, warriors. We learn from a letter in Aramaean sent to the governor of Judea in 407 by Jedeniah, the priest of the Jewish garrison present in Elephantine under the Persians, that Cambyses found Jewish garrisons already installed there. Writing to complain about the destruction of the temple of Yaho by the priests of Khnum, Jedeniah recalls the ancientness of the sanctuary founded in the time of the “kings of Egypt” and the respect shown to it by Cambyses at the time of his passage (P. Cowley 30 l.13–15).148 To the west of the Delta, the very imprecise frontier area between Egypt and Libya was the domain of the Agent at the gate of the Libyan foreign countries. This title was held by the cavalry chief Sematawytefnakht, mentioned above. An unusual feature of this monument is that it has a date, “year 39” of a reign that can only be that of Amasis (532– 531). It is very interesting to note that Sematawytefnakht also assumed the position of chief of Asian foreigners. We learn from a Persian-era funerary epigraph written in Aramaean (Stele Berlin ÄM 7707)149 that the garrison of the site of Khastem (ar. Ḥ STMḤ ég. ḫ ¡s.wt T̠ mḥ .w “Country of the Libyans”),150 a city within the Libyan borders, welcomed a contingent of Aramaean-speaking soldiers. It is thus highly probable that the “Asian” soldiers under the command of Sematayayatefnakht were stationed in this hamlet, identified as Mareia,151 west of Lake

146   J.J. Clère, “Autobiographie d’un général gouverneur de la Haute-Égypte à l’époque saïte,” BIFAO 83 (1983), 85–100, 4 pl. 147   H. de Meulenaere, “Un général du Delta, gouverneur de Haute Égypte,” CdÉ 61 (1986), 203–210. 148   B. Porten & A. Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents of Ancient Egypt, I, A4.7. 149   J. Yoyotte, “Berlin 7707: un détail,” Transeuphratène 9 (1995), 91; G. Vittmann, Ägypten und die Fremden, 14, p. 107 fig. 47, p. 110. 150   O. Perdu, RdÉ 57 (2006), 174, note c. 151   J. Yoyotte, “L’Amon de Naukratis,” RdÉ 34 (1982–83), 129–36, esp. 131 n. 20.



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Mareotis. This was a strategic site from an early time, as is evidenced by the fact that a person as important as Nesnaisut was the governor there during the reign of Psamtik I. There are few references to the eastern frontier in the documentation relative to the Agents at the gate. During the reign of Psamtik II, the chief of the troops (mr mnft) Amasis, known from a statue discovered at Saft el-Henneh (Cairo CG 895—previously cited, New York, MMA 66.99.78)152 and identified with the general Amasis of the inscriptions at Abu Simbel,153 held the title of Agent for the double gate of the northern foreign countries (ἰmy-r¡ ʿ¡.wy m ḫ ¡s.wt mḥ t.w), a title that appears as secondary. Are we to deduce from this that the northern customs posts were less prestigious that those of the south? And how are we to understand the reference to a “double gate”? It can be supposed that Amasis headed two institutions, the first probably oriented toward the Sinai, the second more directly connected with the Mediterranean. If this is indeed the case, these two customs posts appear not to have been permanently connected. We know of at least two Agents at the gate of the foreign countries of the Great Green Area (= the Mediterranean). The first was Neshor, who held this position (ἰm[y-r¡ ʿ¡ ḫ ¡s.wt] W¡d̠-wr) during the reign of Psamtik II (Ermitage 2962)154 before becoming the manager of the southern customs post under Apries. This cursus confirms what we assumed earlier: that the Nubian customs post was more prestigious in the eyes of the Saites, or at any rate that the officials assigned to manage it had to have proven their worthiness elsewhere. During the reign of Amasis the position was held by a certain Nakhthorheb (Statue Varille).155 Here again, the Agent was a soldier. A fragment from the cover of his sarcophagus shows that Nakhthorheb held the title of Chief of troops

152   A. Rowe, “A New Light on Objects belonging to the General Potasimto and Amasis in the Egyptian Museum,” ASAE 38 (1938), 157–195. 153   G. Lefebvre, BSAA 21/6 (1925), 55–56. 154   B. Turajeff, “Einige unedierte Saitica in russischen Sammlungen,” ZÄS 48 (1910), 160–163, pl. II–III; J. Heise, Erinnern und gedenken. Aspekte der biographischen Inschriften der ägyptischen Spätzeit (OBO 226; Freiburg-Göttingen, 2007), 190–192. 155   P. Tresson, “Sur deux monuments égyptiens inédits de l’époque d’Amasis et de Nectanébo Ier”, Kémi 4 (1931), 126–150, esp. 126–144, pl. VII–IX; D. Wildung, “Nach Jahrtausenden wiedervereinigt Kopf und Körper einer ägyptischen Statue finden in Berlin zueinander,” Antike Welt, 27/1 (1996), 1–2. An English translation of the text appears in M. Lichtheim, Maat in Egyptian Autobiographies and Related Studies (Freiburg, 1992), 91–2.

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(mr-mnft).156 It is certain that the Naucratis site was within the jurisdiction of the Agents at the gate of the foreign countries of the Great Great Area. The “domain of the port” (pr-mry.t) of Naucratis may have been established in the early years of the reign of Amasis, following his coup d’État, and its management may have been assigned to the Greek cities located around Chios.157 Naucratis, however, did not yet have Greek city status.158 The cities that were members of the Hellenion received the right to manage the only authorised trade zone connecting Egypt with the Mediterranean world. They appointed the “provosts” of this port market, the prostatai tou emporiou, according to Herodotus (II.178–179). The pharaohs nevertheless maintained within this area a royal establishment in charge of collecting taxes levied in the port. Unfortunately, no Saite document mentions the taxes assessed on trade. Thus, if the Agents at the gates were soldiers before being managers, the management of the flows of goods that transited the frontiers, and their taxation, required them to have a certain ability in dealing with finance. Moreover, some of them held the title of Superior for food offerings (ḥ ry-wtb). This meant that they had the task of turning over a portion of the revenue that they collected to the largest temples in the area under their jurisdiction.159 This allowed them to erect a statue in the sanctuaries of which they had been the benefactors. 3.2.2  Taxation of Individuals According to Herodotus (II.177), Amasis may have been the originator of a tax innovation of considerable scope: “Moreover, it was Amasis who imposed this law on the Egyptians: that every Egyptian had to report his means of existence (gr. bioutai) to the nomarch each year; that anyone who did not do so and did not prove honorable resources would be put to death.” In other words, Amasis may have been the inventor of the first tax on assets and income of ­individuals. 156   H.S.K. Bakri, “Recent Discoveries of Pharaonic Antiquities in Cairo and Neightbourhood,” RSO 46 (1971), 103–105, pp. V–VI. 157   D. Agut-Labordère, “Le statut égyptien de Naucratis,” in: Entités locales et pouvoir central: la cité dominée dans l’Orient hellénistique, Nancy, les 3, 4 et 5 juin 2010 (Université Nancy 2), V. Dieudonné, C. Feyel, J. Fournier, L. Graslin, F. Kirbilher, & G. Vottéro, eds. Nancy, pp. 153–173. 158   A. Bresson, “Rhodes, l’Hellénion et le statut de Naucratis,” DHA 6 (1980), 291– 349 reproduced in A. Bresson, La cité marchande (Bordeaux, 2000), 13–64. 159   G. Posener, Revue de Philologie 21 (1947), 121.



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The death penalty for violators is certainly an attempt at dramatization by Herodotus. Diodorus of Sicily notes that Amasis modified the role of the “nomarchs and the entire administration of Egypt” (I.95). The image of Amasis as reformer, widespread in historiography, is rooted largely in these two short passages.160 A study of the epigraphic documentation makes it possible to flesh out this portrait, or at least to place the Amasian reforms in a broader perspective. We have seen throughout this third section that administrative innovations followed one upon the other throughout the sixth century. If we now examine the contents of the reforms described by the two Greek historians, we shall note their agreement on the fact that they concern in particular the administration of the nomes. It is thus tempting to compare the texts of Herodotus and Diodorus of Sicily with a passage from the inscription on the statue of Peftuaneith (Louvre A 93).161 The envoy of Amasis to Abydos states: “I turned over products (ἰšt) from the Thinite desert to the temple that I found in possession of the nomarch (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ) so that Abydenes would have burials.” However, there is nothing to prove that the transfer from the nomarch to the temple of Osiris of management and collection of revenue from “products of the desert” was done within the framework of a general reform of the nomarchy. It could have been a simple royal donation to the sanctuary, with the nomarch having had use of these “products” until then in the name of the Saite administration. G. Posener has expressed a supposition that the “products” in question could have come from the desert quarries,162 in which case this could be a reference to alum, a mineral used in the mummification process, and definitely attested to as being present in the Great Oasis. In this case, the king, through his emissary, may have decided to give the temple of Osiris in Abydos quarries located in the oases of the Libyan desert. This would then have been a donation similar to the one mentioned on the famine stele, a Ptolemaic-era pseudo-epigraph, in which the

160   The analysis by F. Bilabel, “Polykrates von Samos und Amasis von Ägypten,” Neue Heidelberger Jahrbücher (Neue Folge) (1934), 129–159, esp. 150–151 concerning these passages is still completely pertinent. 161   E. Jelinkova-Reymond, “Quelques recherches sur les réformes d’Amasis,” ASAE 54/2 (1967), 251–287, esp. 256. 162   G. Posener, Revue de Philologie 21 (1947), 126 and note 2. M. Valloggia is of the opinion that: “Le trafic caravanier passa alors sous le contrôle du clergé d’Osiris [The caravan traffic then came under the control of the clergy of Osiris].” M.Valloggia, “This sur la route des Oasis,” BIFAO 81 (1981), 185–190, citation p. 190.

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king gives the god Khnum of Elephantine the right to receive 10% of everything that is produced in the Dodecaschoenus.163 An attempt to see in the inscriptions of the top administrators living during the reign of Amasis an echo of the passages of Herodotus and Psamtik can thus lead to over-interpretation of the epigraphic documentation, a blind alley connected with the very nature of these biographical texts. Placed inside the sanctuaries, they were supposed to remind the community of priests of the good deeds performed by the benefactor in favor of the local divinity. We cannot, and should not, draw hasty conclusions from the piling-up of commonplaces that structure these narratives: the benefactor inevitably finds the temple in ruins, his standing in the court and/or the administration enables him to allocate funds for a rehabilitation of the buildings and the reorganization of the domain of the god. Thus there is nothing to definitively connect the biographical text engraved on the statue of Peftuaneith (Louvre A 93), which indicates that he restored the temple of Abydos from top to bottom, with the tax reform that Amasis is believed to have achieved. A check of the demotic and abnormal hieratic papyri turns up no receipt for a tax of this type. Moreover, a valuation of the assets and revenues of each household would imply that each nomarch had a corps of accounting scribes devoted to this task. We have seen that at least since the reign of Psamtik II the crown had had an audit office directed by the Manager of the scribes of the Council. This type of body could have centralized the information coming from the various nomes. But the major part of the accounting, verification, and collection work necessarily had to be done at the local level. Thus, if it should prove true that Herodotus was right, this would mean that at the end of the Saite period Egypt had one of the most efficient local administrations of its era, because the Egyptian tax collectors would then have been able to tax each household for an amount calculated in proportion to its assets and its revenues. This tax would have been similar to the Athenian eisphora, a contribution based on estimate of wealth (timèma) and imposed by the Athenians starting in 428,164 with this difference: in the

163   M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature. Vol. III: The Late Period (BerkeleyLos Angeles, 1980), 99, l. 25–27. 164   V. Chankowski, “Les catégories du vocabulaire de la fiscalité dans les cités grecques,” in: Vocabulaire et expression de l’économie dans le monde antique, J. Andreau & V. Chankowski, eds. (Bordeaux, 2007), 299–33, esp. 306.



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case of Egypt, it would have been applied to several million taxpayers. In addition, the establishment of this contribution would have presupposed that the administration could verify ownership deeds, leases, and documents creating rights to an income. This verification work would thus have involved the standardization of all private documents pertaining to family income. This is why the tax reform of Amasis described by Herodotus, if it actually took place, could explain the fact that it was precisely during the reign of this king that the demotic permanently supplanted the abnormal hieratic in Thebaid. 4.  Economic Administration in the Temples and Their Environs: The Example of the Domain of Amun in Thebes For the Saite period, it is obviously the Domain of Amun of Thebes165 that has left us the most abundant and varied documentation concerning its economic administration by a group of top administrators whose respective powers it is difficult to determine: the Chief manager (mr pr), the Manager of the granary (mr šnw.t),166 and the Manager of the fields (mr ¡ḥ ), who is not to be confused with the official of the same name in the royal administration (see pp. 999–1000).167 For the Saite period, it is the abundance of “contracts” (perhaps better called declarations) entered into between the temple authorities and individuals, or between individuals, that constitutes the most original feature of the economic documentation emanating from this institution. It seems that this period of Egyptian history was characterized by the development of economic affairs conducted on the periphery of the temples, whether through the leasing of lands belonging to a sacred domain (2), or the management by individuals of funerary activities connected with the necropolis (3). But before looking at these original features, we shall study in particular the economic links between the Saite king and the temples.

  S. Vleeming, The Gooseherds of Hou (Pap. Hou) (Leuven, 1991), 21 note [cc].   Concerning these two titles, S. Vleeming, P. Reinhardt. An Egyptian Land List from the Tenth Century B.C. (Berlin, 1993), 55–56 §. 13. 167   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts collected by the Theban Choachytes in the reign of Amasis. Papyri from the Louvre Eisenlohr lot (Leiden, 1996), 37, note 5. 165 166

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damien agut-labordère 4.1  The King and the Economic Activity of the Temples: Gifts, Peculation, Taxation, and Diplomatic Donations

The Petition of Peteise (P. Rylands IX) constitutes an exceptional document for a better understanding of the organization of the relationship between the temples and the crown during the Saite period.168 This lengthy text is an irreplaceable source for the social, economic, and administrative history of Late-Period Egypt. Written in demotic by one Peteise (III), priest of Teudjoi in Middle Egypt (now El-Hiba), during the reign of Darius I, it sets forth the claim of Peteise III to the position of high priest of the local temple of Amun. In support of his claim, he relates the history of his family since the beginning of the Saite period, when his great-great-grandfather, Peteise I, settled in Teudjoi during the reign of Psamtik I. Reported more than a century and a half later, the events in this text cannot be completely authentic. Nevertheless, they had to appear credible. P. Rylands 9 provides one of the few glimpses we have for the Saite period of the royal taxes weighing on the temples. Its description of the economic situation of the temple of Amun of Teudjoi at the beginning of the reign of Psamtik I reveals an institution in a catastrophic condition. The text deserves to be quoted in its entirety. Peteise III places the words in the mouth of an elderly sacristan who meets his ancestor Peteise I on an inspection tour: “This was (formerly) an opulent sacred domain (6,15) allocated to Amun of Teudjoi, this was the edifice of which it was said that it was the first place of Amonresonter. Then came the bad times: The large temples of Egypt were made to pay a tax, and this city was then burdened with an excessive tax. They (= the priests of Teudjoi) were not able to pay the tax imposed on them. They departed, and even though the major temples of Egypt were thenceforth exempt, people continue to come to us saying: ‘Pay the tax (dem. škr)!’.” The narrative probably dates from the 650s (between 661, date of the promotion of Peteise I to the position of Leader of the Fleet, and 650, the date on which the king awarded him several prebends, particularly in Thebes). The sacristan refers to an 168   The benchmark edition of this text is that of G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, passim. Two more recent translations, in German and in French, have been proposed: F. Hoffmann & J.F. Quack, Anthologie der demotischen Literatur. Einführungen und Quellentexte zur Ägyptologie (Berlin, 2007), 22–54; D. Agut-Labordère & M. Chauveau, Héros, magiciens et sages oubliés de l’Égypte ancienne. Une anthologie de la littérature égyptienne démotique (Paris, 2011), 145–200.



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indeterminate period between the time of elimination of the tax on the temples and the time of its re-establishment, following a decision to exempt the largest sanctuaries from the tax. Obviously it is impossible to establish the date of these various changes, which bear witness to a tax policy that, to say the least, was erratic during the first half of the seventh century. The temple of Amun of Teudjoi had not benefitted from the last of these measures, the one that would have allowed it a tax exemption. We shall note, in passing, that the text distinguishes two types of taxation. The first affects the temple (ḥ w.t-ntr), the second the city (tmy). The priests appear to have been unable to comply with this double taxation, and are believed to have deserted the site. The basic narrative of the Instructions of Chasheshonqy mentions another type of burdensome tax, this one on religious personnel. Positions of “priests exempt from taxes” (dem. wʿb ἰwty tn 1.x + 19) could be awarded by royal decision to the “brothers” of the chief physician (wr swnw). This seems to indicate that specific taxes were assessed on most priestly positions. Was it a sum to be paid upon the obtaining of a title like the Ptolemaic telestikon? A receipt for two debens in fact indicates that this type of tax was levied in Elephantine by the royal treasury during the Persian period (P. Berlin 13582).169 But there is nothing to prove its existence under the Saites. Obviously, evidence concerning the taxes on temples and their priests is limited in quantity and is very vague. On the other hand, by revealing the background of the process of re-establishing the temple of Amun of Teudjoi, the Petition of Peteise allows us to better understand the political motives of certain royal donations. We saw earlier that Peteise I was initially the assistant to a very highly placed administrator, Peteise son of Chasheshonq, the Leader of the Fleet. It was during an inspection tour connected with his duties that Peteise I supposedly discovered the temple of Amun of Teudjoi in lamentable condition. As we shall see later, the temple may have been ruined by iniquitous taxation. Upon his return to his superior in Herakleopolis, Peteise I asked for a consultation of the tax records. It was then realized that the temple of Teudjoi was in fact exempt from the charges that had led to its ruination. The zealous Peteise undertook to report this situation to the Leader of the Fleet,

169   A. Kuhrt, The Persian Empire: A Corpus of Sources from the Achaemenid Empire (London – New York, 2007), 706, n° 14.

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who agreed to refund the improperly collected sum to the priests. The reimbursement was paid through an intermediary, who was none other than Peteise I. The word “intermediary” is too weak, however, since according to his descendant it was Peteise I who supervised the use of the money and organized the restoration of the temple of Amun of Teudjoi. This restoration obviously was not done without a considerable compensation. Peteise I was able to move his family to Teudjoi and, above all, to provide the family with the use of the prebends connected with the temple. Peteise I thus supposedly used his relationships within the royal administration to serve his interests and those of his family, interests that he sought to establish permanently by causing an inscription commemorating his good deeds: Then he went on an inspection tour of the Southern Land. He came to Elephantine, and caused an Elephantine stone stele to be cut, and blocks for two statues in demgui stone, and he had them (7,15) brought to Teudjoi. He departed for the north and arrived at Teudjoi, he had stonecutters, engravers, scribes of the House of Life, and draftsmen brought in. He had them inscribe on the stele the good deeds he had performed at Teudjoi, he had them make his two statues in demgui stone, both kneeling, with a statue of Amun in the lap of one and a statue of Osiris in the lap of the other. He caused on to be installed at the entrance to the chapel of Amun the other at the entrance to the chapel of Osiris.

His descendant Peteise III, eager to obtain every opportunity for his case, recopied the text of this stele: [A:] Copy of the Elephantine stone stele in the dromos of Amun, — detail: Year 1[4], third month of the season of akhet (= April 651), in the reign of Horus the Great-hearted, that of the two Mistresses Master of the arm, the victorious golden Horus, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt Wahibre, the son of Re Psamtik (i), living eternally as Ra. While His Majesty gladdened the country by suppressing its enemies and supplying all the temples of Upper and Lower Egypt, people came and told the first holy servant of Herishef-King-of-the-two-lands, the holy servant of Osiris-of-Naref-on-his-throne, the leader of the holy servants (21,15) of Sobek of Sheded, the holy servant of Amun-Ra-Great-of-renown and his ennead, the Leader of the Fleet of the entire country, Peteise son of Cha Sheshonq: “The temple of Amun-Great-of-renown has fallen into ruins because of the tax imposed upon it.” The dignitary attached (to this temple) and residing in this city, Peteise son of Itoru and Tadebehneith, made certain that this news was learned, and this dignitary (= Peteise son of Itoru) prostrated himself and said: “If you eliminate the tax on the temple of Amun-Great-of-renown, then (22,1) this city in its entirety, relieved of its problem, will serve you.”



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This dignitary (= Peteise son of Chasheshonq) set the establishment of its influence over this city as his goal. Then this administrator sat down to discuss this tax with all the scribes of each city concerned, all the agents and their equivalent officials. (They) said: “This was not done in the ­beginning.” Then he grew angry because of this, then this general (= Peteise son of Chasheshonq) sent southward his subordinate who resided in this city, Peteise son of Itoru, saying: “Let there be no more tax on this temple of Amun-Great-of-renown, nevermore, for all eternity, because this was not done at the beginning. All the priests and all the slaves will be protected and forever exempt from tax by any dignitary, any envoy, any agent, any police officer. He did this to exempt this temple and the people there so that they would work for him (like) heiffers in the (22,5) fields. As for the person who complies with this decree, he shall be in the favor of the benefactor, his name shall be perpetuated, his son (installed) in his place, his house stable on its foundations. As for the person who will destroy this stele, he shall be the terror and the misfortune in the great tribunal at Heracleopolis, he shall be the knife of Heneb who resides in Naref, his son shall be set aside, his house shall no longer exist; his body being brought to the fire, he shall be the fire in the coals of the Eye of Ra who lives in the Hill-of-the-Dog-Ticks, his name shall no longer be among the living for all eternity.”

In reality, the version in the text of the stele is very different from that of the petition. Here it is a different Peteise, Peteise son of Chasheshonq, the Leader of the Fleet, the superior of Peteise I, who plays the principal role. Informed by his assistant of the ruination of the temple of Teudjoi, it is the Leader of the Fleet who takes the steps necessary for its renovation in order to “re-establish its influence in this city” (n rdἰ.t nἰw.t tn ḥ r mw=f ).170 Like the action of Peteise I in the text of the petition, that of the Leader of the Fleet was completely within the sphere of sponsorship. Thus the priests of Amun of Teudjoi found a protector in the Leader of the Fleet, who, thanks to his functions in the royal administration, obtain a tax exemption for them. Peteise I appears solely as the local relay of his powerful master. Contrary to the text of the petition, the text of the stele does not mention the gift of land, the precious vessel, or the construction of a building. It can then be supposed that this aspect of the action of Peteise I at Teudjoi is a

170   Literally, “put the city on its water.” This metaphor, frequent in Late-Period texts, is dicussed by G. Vittmann, Altägyptische Wegmetaphorik (Beiträge zur Ägyptologie, 15; Veröffentlichungen der Institute für Afrikanistik und Ägyptologie der Universität Wien, 83; Wien, 1999).

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pure invention forged by Peteise III to support his claims to leadership of the temple of Amun. Peteise son (7,20) of Itoru, navigated toward Heracleopolis. He appeared before the Leader of the Fleet and reported everything that he had done at Teudjoi. (8,1) Peteise, the Leader of the Fleet, then said to him: —May Herishef king-of-the-two-lands praise you! Amun will reward you for your good deeds! You know that the share of holy servant of Amun of Teudjoi and his ennead belongs to me. Since you loved it as residence, I shall draw up a document granting you the role of holy servant of Amun of Teudjoi and his eannead. The Leader of the Fleet called for a scribe of (the) school, who drafted a document granting him the share of holy servant of Amon of Teudjoi and his ennead.

It is remarkable that although the king appears in the stele, the entire operation was conducted under the authority, and to the profit, of the Leader of the Feet. Moreover, the patronage-relation logic is clearly stated in the very text of the stele. The Petition of Peteise clearly shows that at that point in the reign of Psamtik I, the authority delegated by the king to the members of his household was openly used by them to create a clientele. The highest members of the royal administration served the king and made use of him to establish their influence over the temples and increase their income. Here Peteise I plays only the role of intermediary, and joins the Teudjoi clergy as liege-man of the Leader of the Fleet. His power in Teudjoi thus depended on the career of his master, and his own advancement in the administration. Here we see the role played by epigraphy on hard stone: by preserving the history of its notables and their good deeds in favor of the village community, epigraphy made it possible for their descendants to justify their positions. It is very significant that when the power of the descendants of Peteise I disappeared, the priests of Teudjoi decided to destroy the statues and steles he had left, in order to deprive Udjasomtu II (the father of Peteise III) of any reference to this prestigious past. Then Udjasomtu with his wife and children departed by night on a boat for Hermopolis. The priests and the lesonis learned of this at dawn. They went to his house and took everything that belonged to him. They pulled down his house and his temple dwelling. Then they brought in (18,15) an engraver and had him efface the stele that Peteise son of Itoru had caused to be erected on the stone base. They went toward the other, Elephantinestone stele in the sanctuary, saying: “We have to efface this one too!” But the engraver said:



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—I can’t efface it, only a stone-cutter can—my tools would lose their edge. Then a priest said: —Well, leave it then! Look, no one notices it! Furthermore, he caused it to be erected at a time when he was not yet a priest, a time when Peteise, the Leader of the Fleet, had not drafted a document granting him the benefit of Amun. We can contest it by using it as a basis and saying: “Your father was not a holy servant of Amun!” They left the Elephantine stone stele (18,20), they did not efface it. Then they moved toward his two demgui statues. They threw into the river the statue that was at the entrance to the chapel of Amun, the one that had a statue of the god in his lap, and did the same with the other statue that was in the temple of Osiris, at the entrance to the chapel of Osiris, the one that had a statue of the god in his lap.

Reread in this way, the story of Peteise furnishes the background for royal and private donations. We have a very large number of steles mentioning transfers of assets from a domain of the king to that of a god. In most cases, land is involved. Sometimes, as at Teudjoi, the donation can be multiple in nature, and can lead to a re-establishment of the domain of the god, as is shown by another “biographical” text (“evergetic” might be a better word), that of Peftuaneith preserved on the statue Louvre A 93, which describes his action in favor of the temple of Khentamenti at Abydos.171 Some authors, for example Dimitri Meeks,172 have seen in the royal donations to temples a desire on the part of the sovereign to “maintain the economic activity of which they [the temples] were the center.” The Petition of Peteise leads us to propose a different reading, in which the institutional and sociological aspects take precedence over the economy. It is not absolutely certain that all the “royal” donations were decided by the kings personally. As we have seen in the text of the Petition, they could be

171   Statue Louvre A 93, translation into English by M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature III, 33–36 (available on Googlebooks). 172   D. Meeks, “Les donations aux temples dans l’Égypte du Ière millénaire avant J.-C.”, in: State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East II. Proceedings of the International Conference organized by the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven from 10th to the 14th April 1978, II, E. Lipiński, ed. (OLA 6; Leuven, 1979), 606–685, esp. 652. See also the very stimulating analysis proposed by N. Spencer, “Sustaining Egyptian Culture? Non-royal initiatives in Late Period Temple Building,” in: Egypt in Transition. Social and Religious Development of Egypt in the First Millennium BCE, L. Bareš et alii, eds. (Prague, 2010), 441–490. Based on the corpus of “biographical” inscriptions, this author rightly proposes that individual initiatives be seen at the origin of certain work performed in the temples.

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donation-peculation situations: a local agreement made in favor of a powerful top administrator (and his friends), ultimately to the detriment of the royal domain. However, not all the royal donations can be reduced to this conclusion. The steles testifying to this type of transfer have been studied by D. Meeks in an important article173 recently updated.174 He notes that when the sovereign is the true donor, the donation is the subject of a decree beginning in conventional manner: “His Majesty has ordered” (wd̠ ḥ m=f ) or “His Majesty makes an offering” (ḥ nk ḥ m=f ).175 The assets transferred to a temple could come from a domain that had previously belonged to a high-level administrator. For example, the stele Copenhague Ny Carlsberg AEIN 1037 (Meeks 26.4.4a) testifies to a large donation made in the year 4 of the reign of Apries (586–585). The king offers to the god Banebded of Mendes a property that had been operated by a powerful individual in the time of Psamtik II, General Neshor.176 This property included a village called “The-Wall-of-Paadjed,” with its inhabitants, livestock, fields, and all its appurtenances, covering an estimated 500 arures (approx. 125 hectares). This document can be compared with the stele BM 1427 (Meeks 26.5.8), dated from the year 8 of the reign of Amasis (563–562), which mentions the offering made by the king of “a stable for the senut festival”177 of Horus of Resnet and Horus Mehnet.178 This building belonged originally to the governor of the Saite nome (ḥ ¡ty-ʿ m S¡w), one Wahibre.179 More modestly, and without indicating the source of the donated land, in the year 4 of his reign (607–606) Nekau II offered 20 arures (approx. 5 hectares) to Osiris (stele BM 1655, Meeks 26.2.4).180 The land donated by the king could also be planted; an example is the orchard given to

  D. Meeks, in: State and Temple Economy, II, 605–687.   D. Meeks, “Une stèle de donation de la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire,” ENIM 2 (2009), 129–154. 175   D. Meeks in: State and Temple Economy, II, 628. 176   O. Perdu, “Neshor à Mendès sous Apriès,” BSFE 118 (1990), 38–49, esp. 37; D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 152. 177   The translation of this term is discussed by H. de Meulenaere, “Quelques remarques sur des stèles de donation saïtes,” RdÉ 44 (1993), 11–18, here p. 12, note 5. 178   D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 153. 179   Concerning this governor, R. El-Sayed, Documents relatifs à Saïs et à ses divinités (Cairo, 1975), 92–93. 180   A. Leahy, “Two Donation Stelae of Nechao II,” RdÉ 34 (1982–1982), 77–84; H. de Meulenaere, RdÉ 44 (1993), 15–16. 173 174



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the bull Apis by Apries in the 17th year of his reign (573–572) (Berlin 15393, Meeks 26.4.17).181 It will be noted that this lot had already been offered in the 14th year of the reign of this same king (576–575) to Thot of Hermopolis (Stèle Louvre S (or SN?) 455, Meeks 26.4.14).182 These twin documents, presented in a style that imitates that of the decrees of the Old Kingdom, show that despite the formulaic phrases stipulating that they were made for all eternity, the donations were not permanent, at any rate in the case of royal donations, and they could be abolished. The economic role of the donations can be questioned. It could be supposed that they were part of a strategy of economic support by the crown for the temples. Some of the Saite-period examples available to us, however, should lead us to relativize the scope of this hypothesis. It will have been noted that most of the examples cited above concern small donations (aside from the text of stele Copenhague Ny Carlsberg AEIN 1037). Some donations of land are even laughable. For example, a stele in the Mandel collection, dated from year 14 of the reign of Nekau II (597–596) shows that this king offered a field to enable the Hibis of Baqlieh to play (Meeks 26.2.14).183 This is a completely symbolic use of donation, involving a problem that may be quite close to the question concerning work done by the king in sanctuaries.184 In this context, the pharaoh could have someone represent him at the time the asset was officially returned to the sacred domain. For example, a stele from year 11 of the reign of Nekau II (Meeks 26.2.11, OIC 13943)185 confirms the gift by that king of a field of halva to the temple of Thot in Busiris, and delegates one of the administrators, Padineshmet son of Keremhor, to represent the king at the time of official transfer.186

181   D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 152, which refers to M. Römer, “Zwei Schenkungsstelen der 26. Dynastie,” SAK 37 (2008), 317–326, esp. 317–321. 182   D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 153. 183   D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 151. 184   For a survey of these works, the reader will consult O. Perdu, “Saites and Persians (664–332),” in: A Companion to Ancient Egypt, I, A.B. Lloyd, ed. (Malden, 2010), 140–149. 185   A. Leahy, RdÉ 34 (1982–83), 77–91; D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 151. 186   H. de Meulenaere, RdÉ 44 (1993), 14.

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damien agut-labordère 4.2  The Barley Scribe and Leasing of Land

The great majority of contracts available to us concerning the leasing of lands originate in the domain of Amun of Thebes and concern transactions between individuals.187 Even if the lessor may hold a religious title, possibly that of divine father (ἰt-ntr), a servant of God (ḥ m-ntr), or a choachyte (w¡ḥ -mw), the terminology used in the documents shows that he is acting as owner of the temple land, not in connection with his priesthood.188 At most, we can suppose that the land entrusted to a member of the clergy was part of his remuneration, and that he was to cultivate it directly or lease it to a tenant. For example, in P. Louvre E7837, dating from 535,189 the lessor, the holy father Udjahor, tells his tenant: “I have leased my fields to you . . .” (sḥ n(=y) n=k n¡y(=y) ¡ḥ (.w)). This text specifies that the rent is 1/3 of the output of the ground. The owner also took 1/6 of the share of the tenant as the price for the leasing of an ox for ploughing. The members of the priestly class were thus able to increase their income by leasing lands for which they had received rights by way of remuneration. The priests, and generally speaking everyone who had the means of profitting from access to temple land by means of leasing, went into business. This is also evidenced by the privatization of certain interior temple spaces in which the priests deposited some or all of the items connected with their private business affairs. For example, in P. Rylands 9, when Peteise I, at the time Chief Priest of Amun in the temple of Teudjoi, had a house built during the reign of Psamtik I in the city in question and a “place in the temple” (s.t n ḥ w.t-ntr), this room was explicitly located within the sacred enclosure. M. Chauveau shows that in fact the space consisted in service area “offices” owned individually by priests of a certain rank, who could dispose of them as of personal property. The ostracon O. Man. 5486190 reports the existence in the temple of Manawir of four of these s.t n ḥ w.t-ntr, along 187   For a survey of this documentation, K. Donker Van Heel, “Use of Land in the Kushite and Saite Periods (Egypt, 747–656 and 664–525 BC)”, in: Landless and Hungry? Access to Land in Early and Traditional Societies. Proceedings of a Seminar held in Leiden, 20 and 21 June, 1996, B. Haring & R. de Maaijer, eds. (Leiden, 1998), 90–102. 188   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 41. 189   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 210–215, n° 20. 190   M. Chauveau & D. Agut-Labordère, Les ostraca démotiques de Ayn Manâwir, http://www.achemenet.com.



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with the names of their respective owners at the end of the reign of Darius II.191 With respect to the leases of temple lands, even if they were held by individuals, they nevertheless were part of the domain of Amun and were therefore subject to payment of the shemu tax. The leases signed between two individuals therefore included a clause specifying which of the two parties had to pay the tax, which was 10% of the harvest and had to be paid to a temple official known as the barley scribe (sh̠ ἰt) or scribe of the barley account (sh̠ ḥ sb ἰt).192 After receiving the tax, the scribe drafted a receipt (ἰw) on papyrus.193 It is interesting to note that according to the wording in effect, the payment of the tax was connected with the act of ploughing the field: “his shemu tax for the field that he ploughed” (p¡y=f šmw p¡ ¡ḥ r-sk¡=f ). It can then be supposed that the tax was paid by the person who performed the agricultural work, in other words, by the tenant. However, a study of the few receipts available to us shows that in most cases it was the owner who had to pay it.194 In reality, as K. Donker Van Heel rightly remarks, in this context the verb sk¡ must be understood to mean not simply “to plough” but “to have the responsibility of ploughing” a specific piece of land.195 This detail is of great importance. By means of this formula the temple authorities indicated the reason that led them to entrust a portion of the domain of the god to individuals: the need to cultivate land that otherwise would have lain fallow. The temple of Amun thus opened its domain to individuals in response to a lack of institutional agriculture workers, particularly prisoners of war.196

191   M. Chauveau, “Les archives démotiques du temple de Ayn-Manâwir,” ARTA 2011.002 (19 pages) available at http://www.achemenet.com/document/2011.002Chauveau.pdf. 192   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 173 note VIII. 193   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, documents n° 12 à 16. 194   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 43. 195   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 45. 196   This point confirms the analysis made by J.C. Moreno García concerning the gradual disappearance of the jḥ wty.w, “institutional farmers” in favor of the nmḥ .w, “free farmers ”: J.C. Moreno García, “L’évolution des statuts de la main-d’œuvre rurale en Égypte de la fin du Nouvel Empire à l’époque saïte”, in: Travail de la terre et statut de la main-d’œuvre en Méditerranée archaïque, VIIIe–VIIe siècles. Table-ronde Athènes 15–16 décembre 2008, J. Zurbach, ed. (in press); Id. “Les nmḥ .w. Société et transformation agraire en Égypte entre la fin du IIe millénaire et le début du Ier millénaire,” RdÉ 62 (2011), 105–114, which shows that a very similar phenomenon may have occurred at the end of the Ramesside period.

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The temple could also play the role of lessor directly. P. Louvre E7844 is a lease drafted in demotic in 555.197 Two choachytes (see below) lease fallow parcels for the purpose of growing flax. It is interesting to note that the lessor, the holy servant Khonsirau son of Hor, is acting not as owner but as representative of the Domain of Amun. Here again, the analysis of the formula is determinant. The lease specifies that ⅓ of the harvest product is for the Sacred Offering of Amun and must be delivered (r-d̠r.t) to Khonsairau son of Hor personally. Since this preposition appears in the shemu tax receipts drafted by the barley scribes, this very probably concerns a payment made in favor of the temple.198 Khonsirau son of Hor thus would have played here only the role of intermediary, assigned by the institution to monitor the management of certain lands. In this connection, the mention of the Sacred Offering of Amun (ḥ tp-ntr n ’Imn) in the lease is completely essential. This expression designates all the revenues of the Domaine of Amon,199 and therefore the rent paid by the choachytes were paid directly into the coffers of the god. We must therefore consider that the real property belonging to the temple of Amon was divided into two parts,200 one of which was managed by the temple directly, while the other was sublet to members of the clergy in compensation for their services. The clergy could exploit these fields directly, with the help of their family, or lease them to farmers. Only this portion of the domain was subject to shemu tax. 4.3  The Guilds of Choachytes The opening of the temple lands to individuals was a godsend for a portion of Egyptian society. The necropolis was also a place of intense activity, well documented by the papyri. Egyptian ideas on death required absolute respect for the physical integrity of the cadaver (by means of mummification and burial) and the regular performance at the tomb of the deceased of rites aimed at providing him with supplies in the Kingdom of the Dead. The Saite period saw the development   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 101–106, n° 5.   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 40. 199   G. Hughes, Saite Demotic Land Leases (Chicago, 1952), 21, §j; K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 105 note VI. 200   On this point see also D. Meeks, “Les donations . . .”, in: State and Temple Economy, II, 643 and note 167. 197 198



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of ­mortuary enterprises to which individuals could sub-contract these tasks, against remuneration. For example, a tomb (s.t) and the bodies it contained could be entrusted to a group of individuals known in Greek as choachytes, w¡ḥ .w-mw—literally, “pourers of water”—in Egyptian.201 During the reign of Amasis, the choachytes Djechy and his son Iturodj were in charge of the mummies in at least five tombs in the Theban necropolis.202 They stored their business papers in these tombs, a fact that explains their preservation by comparison with the archives of other professional groups, and the fact that they are overrepresented in our corpus. The business prosperity of the choachyte enterprises thus depended very directly on the number of tombs for which they were responsible. In many cases the tombs were shared among several choachytes joined in partnership by a specific contract. P. Louvre E7843 seals the ­partnership—(mtw=k [p¡]y=y ἰry n pš [n] t¡ s.t n p¡ d̠w, “you are my partner with respect to the tombs of the mountain”)—between the choachyte Khausenmut son of Djeho and Iturodj son of Djekhy in 536.203 The revenue composed of “food rations, field rations, and rations of non-food products” (ʿq ¡ḥ ḥ tp) connected with the work done around two tombs was to be shared equally between the two choachytes. The way in which the choachytes were remunerated can be understood in more detail thanks to P. Turin 2121, a document drafted in abnormal hieratic on 8 December 618.204 This charity foundation deed drafted in favor of the temple of Osiris in Abydos determines the fate of a piece of land consisting of 10 arures (approximately 2.5 hectares) of “raised field—nmḥ ” (¡ḥ .t q¡y.t nmḥ ). A small file composed of four

201   K. Donker Van Heel, “Use and Meaning of the Egyptian Term w¡ḥ -mw,” in: Village Voices. Proceedings of the Symposium “Texts from Deir el-Medîna and their Interpretation,” Leiden, May 31–June 1, 1991, R. Demarée & A. Egberts, eds. (Leiden, 1992), 19–30. 202   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 21–23. Another, very limited file concerns the Memphite region; in this regard, see in particular K. Donker van Heel, “Papyrus Leiden I 379: the inheritance of the Memphite choachyte Imouthes,” OMRO 78 (1998), 33–57; C.A.R. Andrews, “Papyrus BM 10381: an inheritance of the Memphite choachytes,” in: Res Severum verum gaudium. Festschrift fur Karl-Theodor Zauzich zum 65. Geburtstag Am 8. Jun, F. Hoffmann & H.J. Thissen, eds. (Leuven, 2004), 27–32, pl. 1. 203   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 197–209, n° 18. 204   M. Malinine, Choix de textes juridiques en hiératique “anormal” et en démotique (XXVe–XXVIIe dynasties), I (Paris, 1953), 117–124, n° XVIII.

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texts allows us to follow its history.205 After having been transmitted for three generations within the same family, the land was acquired by a certain Peteise. His wife, Rer, subsequently decided to give it as a gift to the temple of Abydos. The contract specifies that these “donation fields” (¡ḥ .w ḥ nk) will be made available to (r-d̠r.t) a choachyte and a group of “child servants” (ḥ m.w šry.w) presumably in charge of the tomb of Peteise. This means that the agricultural produce of the field, or the rent paid by a future tenant, would serve as remuneration for the ceremonies performed at the tomb. We can speculate on why Rer used such a complex proceeding to remunerate those who were going to watch over the last sleep of her husband and, probably, her own. A direct donation of the land to the choachytes would have created a great risk that they would abandon their duties after her death. A donation to the god, with the temple as master of the land and guarantor of the performance of the funerary service, provided a solution for this possibility. It was therefore the temple that benefitted from the donation and that would perform the management and collect the rent to be paid to the choachytes, who thereby became de facto tenants of a piece of land that was part of the sacred domain of Osiris of Abydos and, as such, subject to a deduction in favor of the Sacred Offering. This document thus allows us to supplement our analysis of the donations phenomenon, this time with respect to individuals. It is clear that in the case of P.Louvre 7844, the donation made it possible, by introducing the temple as supervisor, to ensure the proper performance of the funerary service.206 However, this is an analysis of a gift made in a funerary context—a phenomenon also studied through epigraphic documentation207—which does not dispose of the question

205   S. Pernigotti, “Un nuovo testo giuridico in ieratico ‘anormale,’ ” BIFAO 75 (1975), 73–96, pl. XI–XII. 206   P. Louvre 7844 is thus the pendant on papyrus of texts on donation steles, in which the counterpart given in exchange is the establishment of offerings in favor of a beneficiary. For the Saite period, only the Stele of the Nilometre of Rodah (D. Meeks, “Les donations . . .”, in: State and Temple Economy, II, 651 n. 211 [26.0.0a] [but the date is uncertain]) is related to this type of donation. However, we call attention to a Libyan-era stele discovered in Dakhla (stele Ashmolean Mus. 1894/107b) mentioning a scribe establishing, in exchange for a donation of land to the local clergy, a regular offering of five loaves of bread in favor of his deceased father; D. Meeks, “Les donations . . .”, in: State and Temple Economy, II, 651 n. 212 (23.XV.24), to be supplemented with the bibliography provided by D. Meeks, ENIM 2 (2009), 148. 207   D. Meeks, “Les donations . . .”, in: State and Temple Economy, II, 651 concludes on the basis of this documentation that “private donations were intended essentially



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of the significance of the private gifts. Generally speaking, we should reconsider this phenomenon by trying to determine the strategies for the management of private assets that they conceal.208 Giving access to land, or entitling the holder to an income, it is logical that the “possession” of a tomb would lead to disputes among the choachytes, disputes that could be resolved by the taking of an oath, as in P.Louvre 7848 in 559.209 Social control within these associations would have to be quite powerful in order for dishonest individuals, fearing retaliation by the group, to decide not to commit perjury. Moreover, in the Theban region the wording of these oaths underwent a very remarkable transformation. In the documents in abnormal hieratic, it was customary to swear on Amun and the Pharaoh. In the demotic wording, all reference to the Theban divinity was eliminated. It was as if—and it is impossible to say if this was the effect of political intention—Amun had, here again, lost ground.210 It seems that the universe of the choachytes was characterized by great solidarity. They could thus be organized in a kind of guild (swn.t). P.Louvre 7380 presents the accounting report of an association of Theban choachytes for the years 542 to 538.211 The group is placed under the patronage of the god Amenhotep son of Hapu, and very probably meets once a month to share a festive meal in one of the “houses of the association” (ʿwy.w n swn.t).212 The banquets, held at the start of the new year (col. IV recto) or for the feast of the divine patron (col. III recto), are also the occasion for the members to pay their dues, in silver, to the representative of the association (rd n swn.t). On the recto of column IIA there is an invocation addressed by the choachytes to the divine sponsor that allows us to reconstitute the hierarchy of the association. The first reference is to a chief (mr-mšʿ), a term that could be translated as general but for the fact that the military meaning of this terms might mislead the reader. Unfortunately, this title is only very rarely

for funerary worship.” However, H. de Meulenaere rejects this conclusion, RdÉ 44 (1993), 15. 208   J.C. Moreno García in: Travail de la terre et statut de la main-d’œuvre en Méditerranée archaïque, VIIIe–VIIe siècles, J. Zurbach, ed. (in press). 209   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 93–94 [n° 4], 197–209 [n° 18]. 210   K. Donker van Heel, Djekhy & Son, 41. 211   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 143–168, n° 11. 212   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 165, note XXVII.

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attested to elsewhere in the documentation. Are we to conclude from this that it was an essentially honorific position? The chief of the association would then be a kind of honorary president.213 This chief is followed by a lesonis (mr-šn), in charge of financial management. It can be supposed that the same is true here and that this title is held by the treasurer of the association. The lesonis is mentioned together with a scribe (sh̠ ), probably an assistance in charge of entries. Strangely, the title that seems most important, that of Agent for the necropolis (mr ḫ ¡s.t), appears in last position (l.8). In reality, this is because he is assigned to pronounce the invocation to the god. It is better to conclude, then, that it is this title-holder, assigned to address the divinity in the name of everyone, who manages the association. Ptolemaic-era sources show the Agent for the necropolis serving as intermediary between the community of the choachytes and the temple authorities, and supervising the collection and payment to the temple of the silver for the Agent for the necropolis (ḥ d̠ n mr-ḫ ¡s.t), namely, the half a qite of silver paid by the choachytes for each mummy interred in the necropolis.214 We could thus compare the fiscal role of the Ptolemaic Agent for the necropolis to that of the leaders of the merchants (ḥ ry.w šwty.w) of the port of Memphis mentioned in the text of the stele of the Memphite foundation of Taharqa (JE 36861).215 The merchants who worked there operated under supervisors tasked with collecting from them the oil allocated by the king to the temple of Amun. As in the necropolises, supervisors, certainly coming from the ranks of the merchants themselves, served as fiscal intermediaries between professionals who operated in the shadow of an institution (the temple or the port) and its managers (the priests or the king). However, no Saite-period document attests to the existence of this tax. On the other hand, a letter (P.

  K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 24.   M. Depauw, The Archive of Teos and Thabis from Early Ptolemaic Thebes (P.Brux. dem. inv. E. 8252–8256)(Turnhout, 2000), 64; S. Vleeming, “The Office of a Choachyte in the Theban Area”, in: Hundred-Gated Thebes. Acts of a Colloquium on Thebes and the Theban Area in the Graeco-Roman Period, S. Vleeming, ed. (PLBat 27; Leiden, 1995), 241–255, esp. 252–255 § 5 C–D; D. Devauchelle, “Notes sur l’organisation de l’administration funéraire égyptienne à l’époque gréco-romaine,” BIFAO 87 (1987), 141–160, pl. XXIII–XXV. 215   D. Meeks, “Une fondation memphite de Taharqa (stèle du Caire JE 36861)”, in: Hommages à la mémoire de Serge Sauneron, I (Cairo, 1979), 221–259, esp. 249; S. Bickel, “Commerçants et bateliers au Nouvel Empire. Mode de vie et statut d’un groupe social,” in: Le commerce en Egypte ancienne, B. Menu & N. Grimal, eds. (Cairo, 1998), 157–172. 213 214



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Louvre 7850) dated 533 and sent by the agent for the necropolis to a divine father, a certain Djechy (who is not the Djechy son of Iturodj mentioned above), helps us to better understand the links between the Agent for the necropolis and the temple authorities under the Saïtes.216 In this text, the Agent, who very clearly acknowledges the divine father as “his superior” (p¡y=f ḥ ry, l. 1.), acknowledges recipt of a red-haired bull (ἰḥ tšr) coming from the Sacred Offering of Amun. This animal replaces the “assets that are (customarily) delivered to the Agent for the necropolis” (n¡ nkt nty ἰw=w dἰ.t s n p¡ mr-ḫ ¡s.t). We must therefore suppose that the temple paid an income to the leaders of the guild of the choachytes. From this rapid sketch of the economic administration of the temples during the Saite period, we can draw an essential conclusion, even if any summary must always be viewed with caution, given the fragmentary nature of the sources available to us: in the shadow of the temples there prospered a middle class that profited from the shortage of institutional workers to take charge of land while at the same time developing small businesses, like that of the choachytes. The phenomenon fed itself. Small entrepreneurs like Djekhy and his son simultaneously operated a mortuary service business and leased fields for the cultivation of flax for the textile market. For this type of economic agent, the simplified cursive writing styles, like the demotic and the abnormal hieratic, constituted an indispensable tool for formalizing a multitude of minor business transactions involving both agriculture and services.217 Thus it is not surprisng that one of the oldest demotic documents known to us (March–April 657) is a copy on stone of a contract of sale of a tomb, entered into between the Agent for the necropolis Kayrau son of Ptahhotep and a laundry man named Padiamenope son of Pakem (Stele Louvre C 101).218 Paradoxically, generally speaking, this ascendant social group seems to have been spared by the royal tax administration for a long time. A royal tax was not assessed against tenants of the temple lands until the Ptolemaic era.219 Thus, while   K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal hieratic and early demotic texts, 222–225, n° 22.   D. Agut-Labordère, “ ‘La vache et les policiers’: pratique de l’investissement commercial dans l’Égypte tardive,” in: Les transferts culturels et droits dans le monde grec et hellénistique, B. Legras, ed. (Paris, 2012) pp. 269–281. 218   M. Malinine, “Vente de tombes à l’époque saïte,” RdÉ 27 (1975), 164–174, [1 pl], esp. 170–171. 219   G. Hughes, Saite Demotic Land Leases, 4–5. 216 217

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Herodotus is correct when he states that Amasis taxed the assets and the revenues of the Egyptians (II.177), this would mean that not until the end of the Saite period did the crown decide to tax the revenus and the assets of these individuals whose businesses flourished in the shadow of the temples. Conclusion: The Dynamic of the Saite Administrative History The reign of Psamtik I was devoted essentially to gaining control of the Egyptian territory. The warrior aristocracy of the Delta was conquered, and the bases for the integration of the Thebaid were laid down with the adoption of Nitocris by the Divine Adoratrice and with monitoring by royal agents of the activities of the temple of Amun. The Saite administration was then that of a monarchy resting on a strong aristocratic base; the notables of the kingdom played an active role in both the central decision-making bodies (the council of nobles) and also in the local administration (the Leaders of the Fleet). The positions they occupied had flexible boundaries and could be transmitted “from father to son.” This was a patrimonial administration in which positions were managed as an asset within a single family or a clique. The period between the reigns of Nekau II and Apries marked the beginning of profound changes. In completing the conquest of the Thebaid, Psamtik II broke the back of the last major political entity capable of resisting the crown. Nekau II, Psamtik II, and Apries gave the monarchy a powerful military tool and began to develop a complex financial administration. The Saites thus gained in power domestically, while externally, toward the East, they failed, and the route to Palestine was closed to them by the Babylonians. Here we must be prudent and leave unanswered the question of the attitude of the Saite kings of the sixth century, and more particularly the attitude of Amasis in dealing with the Babylonians and then the Persians. Containment? Armed peace? The question is largely open. In any case, the combination of this domestic political success and this military semi-failure outside the country may explain the strange turn taken by Saite history during the reign of Amasis. As a confined power, the Saite monarchy then turned toward the Mediterranean, leaving behind the traditional routes of Egyptian imperialism. Giving up the idea of gaining a foothold in Palestine, Amasis took over Cyprus, and found allies in the Mediterranean world



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in dealing with the Persian menace, which was becoming increasingly urgent. The price of this strategy was certainly very high: the cost of the construction, maintenance, and equipping of a military fleet by a country completely unprepared to play the role of a maritime power. To finance this policy, the Saites benefitted from favorable economic conditions. The development of trade along what is usually called the incense route enabled Egypt to collect customs duties, an activity that required the development of an ad hoc administration and the availability of maritime resources in the eastern Mediterranean. On this point, the fleet made it possible to provide a portion of its financing. Domestically, better management of the crown domains is revealed by the appearance of certain titles, but it is another, more profound movement that allows us more safely to explain the prosperity of the late Saite period, mentioned by Herodotus: the development of small private businesses around the temples. The need for laborers to cultivate their lands, connected in part with the growing shortage of slave labor, forced the temples to lease their lands on a massive scale. The middle class, for which the choachytes were the witnesses, profited from this opportunity to gain access to income derived from land and in this way to increase their prosperity. This movement very certainly made it possible to strengthen the middle layer of Egyptian society, imparting more dynamism to the economy of the country thanks to an increase in domestic demand (whence the development of market cities like Naucratis), but also an increase in its agricultural production capacities. Apparently, however, it was not until the end of the period that the Saite kings, and specifically Amasis, understood the importance of taxing individuals. Thus, while the Saite pharaoh was a warrior king, he was also a tax-collector ruler who endeavored to capture some of the trade exchanges and to derive benefit from the flowering of the intermediary categories. To summarize all this in a few words: Basically, the general and the manager were the key figures of the Saite administration.

THE ‘OTHER’ ADMINISTRATION: PATRONAGE, FACTIONS, AND INFORMAL NETWORKS OF POWER IN ANCIENT EGYPT Juan Carlos Moreno García When Simut-Kyky stated “I have not made a(ny) protector for myself from (other) men, [I have not attached] myself to (any) from among the notables, not even a son of mine” (KRI III 337:3–4), he was not just simply making a rhetorical claim—also known from other sources. He was instead referring to a practice whose roots may be traced back to Middle Kingdom literary texts (like the Teaching of Ptahhotep), and even to Old Kingdom inscriptions like that of Hesi at Saqqara: “His Majesty caused (it) to be done for me because His Majesty knew my name while selecting a scribe because of his hand (= ability), without any backer, (simply because) he remembered the one who had spoken to him wisely.”1 Powerful patrons, well-placed contacts, or membership in influential social networks were informal, but nevertheless essential means for furthering one’s career or, simply, for gaining some protection against difficulties. They were also fundamental in ensuring that authority circulated effectively between upper and lower social strata and between the power core of the kingdom and the provinces. Even if the virtuous statements of Simut-Kyky or Hezi are not to be taken at face value, they nevertheless testify to a common practice often concealed by the scribal culture and its insistence on promotion through merit. The case of Weni of Abydos in the 6th Dynasty is worth remembering in this respect: traditionally considered the archetypal dignitary promoted on the basis of his prudence, capability, and administrative skill, only on the basis of his own autobiographical claims, the recent discovery of his tomb together with new epigraphic evidence at ­Abydos reveals a quite different story.2 In fact, Weni came from a high 1   N. Kanawati and M. Abder-Raziq, The Teti Cemetery at Saqqara. Volume V: The Tomb of Hesi (ACE Reports 13; Warminster, 1999), 37–38, pl. 59. 2   J.E. Richards, “Text and Context in Late Old Kingdom Egypt: The Archaeology and Historiography of Weni the Elder,” JARCE 39 (2004): 75–102; Th. Herbich and J.E. Richards, “The Loss and Rediscovery of the Vizier Iuu at Abydos: Magnetic Survey in the Middle Cemetery,” in Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak

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ranking family of provincial viziers (a title held by his father, by Weni himself, and by his son), well-connected with two queens also from Abydos. Thus his exceptional career appears in a different light, and his success is best explained on the basis of not only his own qualities or the political opportunities of his time (conspiracies, destitution of high officials), but also a favorable and influential family environment. Of course such possibilities were alien to most Egyptians, who were used to enduring arbitrary decisions and the crude exercise of power by the authorities; such a reality was represented in literary works (like The Eloquent Peasant), in teachings (one example is Amenemope XXI, 3–4: “do not accept the gift ( fq¡) of a powerful man (nḫ t) and deprive the weak (s¡-ʿ) for his sake”), and in formulae where the pious official asserted that he protected the poor from the powerful one. In fact, the protection dispensed by powerful men was frequently invoked in literary texts as a crucial means of solving conflicts, even when people had legal recourse: “do not say: ‘find me a strong superior (ḥ rj nḫ t), for a man in your town has injured me’; do not say: ‘find me a protector (st̠¡), for one who hates me has injured me’ ” (Amenemope XXII, 1–4) or “do not go to court against your superior when you do not have protection [against] him” (Ankhsheshonq 8, 11).3 Nothing of this is really new or surprising. Patronage, informal networks of influence, factions, corruption, and favoritism ‘oiled’ the everyday functioning of power in pre-industrial states, to the point that all these elements could simultaneously complete, counterbalance, and menace the authority of the central power.4 But, on the other (OLA 149), ed. I.E. Czerny (Leuven, 2006), 141–49; J.E. Richards, “The Abydos Cemeteries in the Late Old Kingdom,” in Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-first Century. Vol. I: Archaeology, ed. Z. Hawass (Cairo, 2003), 400–7; N. Kanawati, “Weni the Elder and His Royal Background,” in En quête de la lumière: Mélanges in honorem Ashraf A. Sadek (BAR International Series 1960), ed. A.-A. Maravelia (Oxford, 2009), 33–50. For previous interpretations of Weni’s career and social background, cf. Ch. J. Eyre, “Weni’s Career and Old Kingdom Historiography,” in The Unbroken Reed: Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honour of A. F. Shore (EES Occasional Publications 11), ed. Ch. J. Eyre (London, 1994), 107–24. 3   M. Chauveau, “Administration centrale et autorités locales d’Amasis à Darius,” Méditerranées 24 (2000): 99–109. 4   P. Vernus, “Le discours politique de l’Enseignement de Ptahhotep,” in Literatur und Politik im pharaonischen und ptolemäischen Ägypten (BdE 127), ed. J. Assmann and E. Blumenthal (Cairo, 1999), 139–52; A.M. Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption: On Rich and Poor in The Eloquent Peasant,” in Reading the Eloquent Peasant (Lingua Ægyptia 8), ed. A.M. Gnirs (Göttingen, 2000), 125–55; Ch. J. Eyre, “How Relevant Was Personal Status to the Functioning of the Rural Economy in Pharaonic Egypt?” in La dépendance rurale dans l’Antiquité égyptienne et proche-orientale (BdE 140), ed.



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hand, they also procured the kings additional tools, aside from the ‘official’ channels, to exert power, to mediate among (and manipulate) factions, to (re)create the ruling elite, and to penetrate into geographical areas or activity sectors resistant to external interference.5 To consider the impact of such elements in ancient Egypt as alternative paths for the exercise of power, for the display of authority, and for the management of administration may help to balance the traditional view of pharaonic power as an all-encompassing powerful state, efficiently served by a myriad of devoted dignitaries controlling every aspect of the country’s life. Such a view also tends to consider ancient Egyptian institutions like the Granary, the Treasury, the Six Great ḥ wt, and others in terms of departments with clearly defined and delimited functions, like our modern governmental departments, with an internal organization rigidly hierarchical, each official being competent in well-defined areas. While avoiding the opposite view of a pharaonic state as a too tightly organized one, where any attempt of the central government to exert its authority would be nearly illusory, I feel that the analysis of the Egyptian administration would remain incomplete without considering the impact of the informal mechanisms, which are hardly found in the official sources, but which nevertheless constituted the ‘other’ administration. “Great is the Great One Whose Great Ones are Great”: Kingship and Palace Factions The first part of my study concerns Egyptian society at the turn of the 3rd millennium. Once the political instability of the First Intermediate Period was over, new literary genres burst onto the scene in Middle Kingdom high culture to cope with the needs of a bureaucracy and a

B. Menu (Cairo, 2004), 157–86; D. Franke, “Fürsorge und Patronat in der Ersten Zwischenzeit und im Mittleren Reich,” SAK 34 (2006): 159–85; J.C. Moreno García, “La dépendance rurale en Égypte ancienne,” JESHO 51 (2008): 99–150; Moreno García, “Introduction. Élites et États tributaires. Le cas de l’Égypte pharaonique,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 11–50; Moreno García, “Household,” in UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, ed. W. Wendrich and E. Frood (Los Angeles, in press); M. Campagno, “Del patronazgo y otras lógicas de organización social en el valle del Nilo durante el III milenio a.C.,” in Formas de subordinación personal y poder político en el Mediterráneo antiguo, ed. M. Campagno, J. Gallego, and C. García MacGaw (Buenos Aires, 2009). 5   Moreno García, “Introduction. Élites et États tributaries.”

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court in full reconstruction.6 One of the most popular was the teachings, addressed to both kings and high dignitaries as true manuals of practical rule and appropriate conduct. The Teaching for Merikare and The Teaching of Ptahhotep, for instance, frequently testify to the measures to be taken in order to preserve the support of courtiers and followers and to guarantee social order. In fact, regicides, conspiracies, and the destitution of high officials were not infrequent practices in ancient Egypt,7 thus pointing to the crucial importance of the collaboration of the elites for the stability of the kingdom and for the maintenance of royal authority. To put it another way, the elites were not mere instruments in the hands of the pharaoh, but holders of true power, apt to limit and circumvent the extent of royal authority and, consequently, had to be formally or informally integrated within the administration. Delegation of power was also inevitable, and the quest of influential partners, apt to represent the crown in the nomes or, at least, to collaborate with agents of the king, necessarily passed through local potentates. The fact that some families succeeded in repeatedly assuming the most important posts of the kingdom highlights not only their competence, but also their ability, the extent of their contacts, and the scope of their power in order to retain a prominent position in the open and highly competitive environment of the royal palace.   J.C. Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire (Ægyptiaca Leodiensia 4; Liège, 1997); L. Postel, Protocole des souverains égyptiens et dogme monarchique au début du Moyen Empire: Des prémiers Antef au début du règne d’Aménemhat Ier (Monographies Reine Élisabeth 10; Brussels, 2004); L.D. Morenz, “Literature as a Construction of the Past in the Middle Kingdom,” in ‘Never Had the Like Occurred’: Egypt’s View of Its Past (London, 2003), 101–117; Morenz, “Die doppelte Benutzung von Genealogie im Rahmen der Legitimierungsstrategie für Menthu-Hotep (II.) als gesamtägyptischer Herrscher,” in Genealogie—Realität und Fiktion von Identität (IBAES V), ed. M. Fitzenreiter (London, 2005), 109–24. 7   Examples from the beginning of the 6th dynasty (Old Kingdom), from the beginning of the 12th dynasty (Middle Kingdom), and from the reign of Ramesses III can be invoked: S. Köthen-Welpot, “Überlegungen zu den Harimsverschwörungen,” in In Pharaos Staat: Festschrift für Rolf Gundlach zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. D. Bröckelmann and A. Klug (Wiesbaden, 2006), 103–126; H. Goedicke, “The Death of Amenemhet I and Other Royal Demises,” in Es werde niedergelegt als Schriftstück: Festschrift für Hartwig Altenmüller zum 65. Geburtstag (SAK Beiheft 9), ed N. Kloth (Hamburg, 2003), 137–143; P. Vernus, Affaires and Scandals in Ancient Egypt (Ithaca, 2003); N. Kanawati, Conspiracies in the Egyptian Palace: Unis to Pepy I (London, 2003); S. Redford, The Harem Conspiracy: The Murder of Ramesses III (Dekalb, 2002); J.C. Moreno García, “Review of Naguib Kanawati and Mahmud Abder-Raziq, The Teti Cemetery at Saqqara. Volume VI: The Tomb of Nikauisesi (The Australian Centre for Egyptology: Reports 14; Warminster 2000),” BiOr 59 (2002): 509–20. 6



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Here favoritism, rivalries, and intrigues made possible a quicker circulation of power and of high positions among a plethora of candidates, and any durable concentration and distribution of power was certainly problematic; that is why negotiation, carefully planned strategies, mastery of the selected resources of interaction with peers (e.g., the court culture: rhetoric, etiquette, ‘literature’, etc.),8 but also good luck, i.e., being in the right place at the right moment, went hand to hand. Such a competitive environment gave the opportunity, both to the king and to ambitious courtiers, to develop their own individual strategies and to nourish politics, an aspect overshadowed by the official assertions of the all-mighty and exclusive authority of the Pharaoh. As for the provincial world, it displays a rather different configuration of authority, as a reduced number of families (sometimes only a single enlarged family) managed to control a locality or a province for generations, even when the royal power collapsed and was subsequently restored.9 Thus, periods of political crisis and dynastic change may serve as lenses through which phenomena that would have remained otherwise hidden under the appearance of institutional stability and political continuity are brought into focus. The advent of the 6th Dynasty is an excellent case in point.

8   L. Coulon, “La rhétorique et ses fictions: Pouvoirs et duplicité du discours à travers la littérature égyptienne du Moyen et du Nouvel Empire,” BIFAO 99 (1999): 103–32; Coulon, “Cour, courtisans et modèles éducatifs au Moyen Empire,” Egypte, Afrique et Orient 26 (2002): 9–20; Coulon, “Célébrer l’élite, louer Pharaon: Éloquence et cérémoniel de cour au Nouvel Empire,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 211–38; R. Gundlach and A. Klug, Der ägyptische Hof des Neuen Reiches: Seine Gesellschaft und Kultur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Auβenpolitik (Wiesbaden, 2006); R. Gundlach, Ch. Raedler, and S. Roth, “Der ägyptische Hof im Kontakt mit seiner vorderasiatischen Nachbarn: Gesandte und Gesandtschaftswesen in der Zeit Ramses’ II,” in Prozesse des Wandels in historischen Spannungsfeldern Nordostafrikas/Westasiens (Kulturelle und sprachliche Kontakte 2), ed. W. Bisang, T. Bierschenk, D. Kreikenbom, and U. Verhoeven (Würzburg, 2005), 39–68; K. Spence, “Court and Palace in Ancient Egypt: The Amarna Period and Later Eighteenth Dynasty,” in The Court and Court Society in Ancient Monarchies, ed. A.J.S. Spawforth (Cambridge, 2007), 267–328; R. Gundlach and J.H. Taylor, Egyptian Royal Residences: 4th Symposium of Egyptian Royal Ideology (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft Früher Hochkulturen 4/1; Wiesbaden, 2009). 9   For some Old Kingdom examples, see J.C. Moreno García, “Temples, administration provinciale et élites locales en Haute-Égypte: La contribution des inscriptions rupestres pharaoniques de l’Ancien Empire,” in Séhel entre Égypte et Nubie: Inscriptions rupestres et graffiti de l’époque pharaonique (Orientalia Monspeliensa 14), ed. A. Gasse and V. Rondot (Montpellier, 2004), 7–22; Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux et les assises de leur pouvoir: Elkab et El-Hawawish sous la VIe dynastie,” RdÉ 56 (2005): 95–128.

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The end of the 5th Dynasty and the first reigns of the 6th seem to have been one of such periods.10 Monumental art and architecture exhibit hardly any trace of crisis and display an appearance of undisturbed stability. Yet data from the Memphite necropolis, as well as some administrative innovations, reveal that things were quite different. An unconfirmed tradition stated that king Teti, the first sovereign of the 6th Dynasty, was murdered and succeeded by an ephemeral usurper, one Userkare. Later on, king Pepy I was confronted with some troubles in the palace which led to the trial of a queen and the destitution of several courtiers. The reality of such events is confirmed by fresh archaeological and epigraphic evidence from the necropolis of Teti at Saqqara.11 It points to a period of instability, when some of the highest positions of the kingdom (especially that of vizier) were held by a high number of dignitaries during a brief period, sometimes at a surprisingly young age, while many tombs show traces of damnatio memoriae. The provinces also began playing a more relevant role in the politics of the kingdom: permanent necropoles with richly decorated tombs flourished all over Upper Egypt, eminent local potentates were bestowed the new title of ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡ ‘great chief ’ of a province, a network of royal and administrative centres (the ḥ wt) covered all the country, and regional authorities (like the jmj-r Šmʿw ‘overseer of Upper Egypt’) were appointed in the South.12 All these circumstances point to certain adjustments in the balance of power within the Egyptian elites, where the provincial potentates appear as a crucial support for the new dynasty. Many of them were educated at the court, with the princes, before being entrusted with high responsibilities in the central administration or in their nomes. Dynastic marriages were another instrument profusely employed by the pharaohs to seal alliances with prominent families or with powerful courtiers.13 King Teti, for instance, married many of his daughters with some of the highest   Moreno García, “Review of Naguib Kanawati”.   Kanawati, Conspiracies in the Egyptian Palace, passim. 12   J.C. Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire: Économie, administration et organisation territoriale (Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Hautes Etudes— Sciences Historiques et Philologiques, n° 337; Paris, 1999); Moreno García, “The State and the Organization of the Rural Landscape in 3rd Millennium BC Pharaonic Egypt,” in Aridity, Change and Conflict in Africa (Colloquium Africanum 2, ed. M. Bollig, O. Bubenzer, R. Vogelsang, and H.-P. Wotzka (Cologne, 2007), 313–30. 13   Moreno García, “Review of Naguib Kanawati”; N. Kanawati, “The Vizier Nebet and the Royal Women of the Sixth Dynasty,” in Thebes and Beyond: Studies in Honour of Kent R. Weeks (CASAE 41), ed. Z. Hawass and S. Ikram (Cairo, 2010), 115–25. 10 11



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dignitaries of the kingdom, while Pepy I took as many as eight spouses, some of them of provincial origin.14 The sources also speak of the successful careers followed by some officials of provincial pedigree, like Weni of Abydos (cf. above), Tjeti-Kaihep of Akhmim, Qar of Edfu, and Mehu of (probably) Mendes.15 Tjeti-Kaihep lived during the 6th Dynasty and entered the service of the king when he was a young man.16 Some inscriptions from ElHawawish state that he was the son and brother of two great overlords of the nome, while his own titles are exceptional for a provincial official (overseer of the Double Treasury, chief of the royal harem, and Great Seer) and point to a career expected to be continued at the highest level in the central administration. It is also probable that a contemporary tomb built for a high official from El-Hawawish at the cemetery of Teti at Saqqara was in fact intended for him. Nevertheless, Tjeti-Kaihep returned to his province, where he became great chief of the nome and chief of priests, two positions controlled by his family for generations. Tjeti’s unexpected return to El-Hawawish may be interpreted as the consequence of the premature death of his older brother in the absence of an heir, and it also suggests that he preferred to ensure the control of his family’s traditional local power base instead of developing a high rank career in the capital. What makes the case of Tjeti-Kaihep so exceptional is that it provides a rare insight into the strategies of power pursued by a provincial elite family at both the local and palatial level. In fact, analysis of the inscriptions from Akhmim during this period reveals that the positions of great chief of the nome and chief of priests remained in the hands of the dominant branch of the ruling family of the nome, while other titles,   C. Berger-El Naggar and M.-N. Fraisse, “Béhénou, ‘aimée de Pépy’, une nouvelle reine d’Égypte,” BIFAO 108 (2008): 1–27; A. Labrousse, “Huit épouses du roi Pépy Ier,” in Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honor of Naguib Kanawati (ASAE Supplément, Cahier 38), ed. A. Woods, A. McFarlane, and S. Binder (Cairo, 2010), vol. I, 297–314. 15   Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux”; Moreno García, “La tombe de Mḥ w à Saqqara,” CdE 161–2 (2006): 128–35; N. Kanawati, “Interrelation of the Capital and the Provinces in the Sixth Dynasty,” BACE 15 (2004): 51–62. R. Bussmann, “Der Kult für die Königsmutter Anchenes-Merire I. im Tempel des Chontamenti: Zwei unpublizierte Türstürze der 6. Dynastie aus Abydos,” SAK 39 (2010): 101–19, pl. 11–12, suggests that queen Iput I could be from Coptos, while H. Goedicke, “A cult inventory of the Eighth Dynasty from Coptos (Cairo JE 43290),” MDAIK 50 (1994): 82, n. 74, has suggested Ahkmim as her birthplace, in which case Jpwt is to be understood as a nisbe of Jpw ‘Akhmim’. 16   Moreno García, “Deux familles de potentats provinciaux”. 14

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related to the central administration (like that of vizier) were held by a secondary branch of the same family or by the minor sons of the principal one. Integrating the local magnates into the governmental apparatus of the kingdom, as well as shaping a local elite devoted to the service of the king, interested in collaborating with the monarchy and attached to the values of the palatial culture, are also evident from the autobiography of Qar, educated at Memphis in the company of the princes and the sons of other provincial potentates and later returned to Edfu as local governor. Finally, Mehu of Mendes was a simple ḥ q¡ ḥ wt who managed to become vizier and to secure this position for his offspring, in all probability thanks to his ties with the royal family and with prominent dignitaries at the court, like the noble Shepsipuptah and the royal mother Zeshzeshet, mentioned in the inscriptions of his tomb. Similar procedures were apparently operative in the nevertheless different setting of the Middle Kingdom. The provincial potentates maintained collaboration with the monarchy while following strategies seeking to preserve their local authority; marriage alliances with other powerful provincial families and the support of the king appear as the most effective instruments at their disposal.17 But later on, during the 13th Dynasty, the rapid succession of an astonishingly high number of short reigns, together with the ascent to the throne of kings who proclaimed on their monuments the non-royal status of their parents or who may have been high officials before they became pharaohs, suggest profound changes in the organization of power within the ruling elite and the monarchy.18 Quirke has convincingly argued that these events may suggest an underlying oligarchic structure of government, when royalty circulated among a number of important families by irregular rotation, perhaps as a consequence of an elite ill-prepared, after two centuries of rule by one family, to supply a successor family. There is no evidence of strife at this period among the elite, the relation between king and officials provides no evidence of change, and 17   A. Lloyd, “The Great Inscription of Khnumhotpe II at Beni Hassan,” in Studies in Pharaonic Religion and Society in Honour of J. Gwyn Griffiths, ed. A.B. Lloyd, (London, 1992), 21–36; D. Franke, “The Career of Khnumhotep III of Beni Hasan and the So-called ‘Decline of the Nomarchs’,” in Middle Kingdom Studies, ed. S. Quirke (New Malden, 1991), 51–67. 18   W. Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt (London, 2006), 162–3; K. Ryholt, The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period, c. 1800–1550 BC (CNI Publications 20; Copenhagen, 1997).



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circulating succession might have allowed the elite to maintain stability in the absence of a single ruling family.19 Therefore two solutions emerge from the study of the conditions prevailing at the beginning of the 6th Dynasty and at the end of the Middle Kingdom: in both cases the stability of the monarchy rested on the alliance between the pharaoh and certain prominent families of the country, while the rapid succession of pharaohs and of high officials reveals the adjustments in the balance of power between the royal family and different factions of the elite. The analysis of the inscribed material from Edfu and Elkab also reveals a remarkable continuity of the local dominant families from the end of the Middle Kingdom to the advent of the 18th Dynasty. They went on providing senior officials to the royal administration during this troubled period and, like their predecessors of the Old Kingdom, the control over their respective nomes was not incompatible with their participation in the state affairs or the Court.20 It is quite probable that their support was crucial for the Theban kings of the 17th Dynasty, and documents like the Stèle Juridique of Karnak epitomize such reality of power as it shows, on the one hand, the efforts of the dominant family of Elkab to keep the position of local governor under their hands and, on the other hand, the strong links of their members with the Theban kings, as the stela was placed in the temple of Karnak.21 Such strategies seeking to preserve a solid local basis of power and to expand it through alliances with peers, both in other provinces and at the court—without neglecting a close contact with the king himself—exemplify the basic mechanisms of the ‘horizontal’ integration 19   S. Quirke, “Royal Power in the 13th Dynasty,” in Middle Kingdom Studies, ed. S. Quirke (New Malden, 1991), 123–39. 20   A.J. Spalinger, “Remarks on the Family of Queen Hʿ.s-nbw and the Problem of Kingship in Dynasty XIII,” RdÉ 32 (1980): 95–116; Ch. Bennett, “A Genealogical Chronology of the Seventeenth Dynasty,” JARCE 39 (2002): 123–55; Bennett, “Genealogy and the Chronology of the Second Intermediate Period,” ÄuL 16 (2006): 231–43; D. Farout, “Trois nouveaux monuments de la famille des gouverneurs d’Edfou à la Deuxième Période Intermédiaire,” RdÉ 58 (2007): 41–70, pl. 9–15; M. Marée, “Nouvelles données sur l’élite d’Edfou à la fin de la XVIIe dynastie,” Égypte, Afrique and Orient 53 (2009): 11–24; Marée, “Edfu under the Twelfth to Seventeenth Dynasties: The Monuments in the National Museum of Warsaw,” British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan 12 (2009): 31–92; W.V. Davies, “Renseneb and Sobeknakht of Elkab: The Genealogical Data,” in The Second Intermediate Period (Thirteenth– Seventeenth Dynasties): Current Research, Future Prospects (OLA 192), ed. M. Marée (Leuven, 2010), 223–39. 21   P. Lacau, Une stèle juridique de Karnak (ASAE Supplément 13; Cairo, 1949).

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of central and provincial elites essential for the stability of the kingdom. As in the case of the Middle Kingdom nomarch Khnumhotpe II of Beni Hassan (cf. above), the high priest of Osiris Wenennefer of Abydos, who lived under the reign of Ramesses II, might be invoked as a good illustration of this practice (KRI III 447–460). His family dominated the highest priesthood at Abydos from the beginning of the 19th Dynasty and Wenennefer’s descendants continued to hold high priestly offices there for generations. Moreover he also displayed family and ‘inter-peer’ connections with many other members of the high-ranking society of his time, including holders of prestigious priestly functions and eminent dignitaries of the court of Ramesses II. His ‘brothers’, for instance, included the vizier Prehotep (in reality, his maternal uncle), the vizier Nebamun (born to a different father from Wenennefer), the high priest of Onuris at Thinis, and the high priest of Anhur Minmose. As for his wife, she was the daughter of the superintendent of the double granary of the South and the North Qeny, who came from a line of granary overseers going back to the late 18th Dynasty, rooted at Asyut, in Middle Egypt. Erecting statues was a privileged means to display the importance of such connections and to strengthen ties with prominent members of the court, including the king himself. Thus Wenennefer claimed in one of his statues: “The city-governor and vizier Nebamun (etc.): (it is) his ‘brother’, the high priest of Osiris Wenennefer [who perpetuates his name? . . .]” and “the city-governor and vizier Rahotep (etc.): (it is) his ‘brother’ who perpetuates his name, the high priest of Osiris Wenennefer” (KRI III 451–452); several fragments of an inscription found in his tomb also record many royal statues erected (?) in the years 21, 33, 30+x, 38, 39, and 40 of Ramesses II and endowed with offerings of wine and milk as well as with substantial amounts of land (30 arouras in one case: KRI III 457:3–13), a policy which recalls similar claims from other members of the Ramesside elite like Penniut of Aniba (KRI VI 350–353). To sum up, the ‘political’ and marriage alliances established by Wenennefer included powerful families from other provinces, high members of the court, and the king himself, a strategy that in no case neglected control over the local priesthood, the true basis of power for him and his family. It is no wonder that, under these conditions, Wenennefer could proudly boast about being “a prophet (ḥ m-nt̠r), skilled in his duties, a great magnate (ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡) in Abydos” (KRI III 454:3–4).



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What emerges from this evidence is that the support of prominent families of the kingdom was crucial for the stability of the monarchy.22 It also made possible the effective implementation of royal decisions, the exercise of royal authority, and led to complex strategies where marriages, alliances, appointments, favoritism, and destitution were common practices. The upshot was that regicides, conspiracies, and palatial intrigues among factions were also frequent, as the cases of Teti, Pepy I, Amenemhat I, and Ramesses III show. In all, the system opened many possibilities to ambitious courtiers, favorites, and the younger sons of the elite to develop prominent careers. The palace was a rather favorable environment for such maneuvers, but the scarcity of Egyptian sources makes it almost impossible to discern what part of such troubles was due to politics (e.g., diverging long-term strategies about the organization of the state among high dignitaries and factions) and what part to short-term distribution of power among elite factions. The ‘Amarna episode’ and the harem conspiracy of Ramesses III might be interpreted, respectively, as good illustrations of such possibilities. The so-called reforms of Akhenaton were apparently an attempt to reinforce and centralize the authority of the king at the expense of some traditional powers in the Theban area, an aim which met with opposition on the part of some fractions of the elite, even if it apparently never manifested itself overtly during the king’s life. In the case of the Ramesses III, the conspiracy arose quite significantly in the harem and involved not only several of the pharaoh’s concubines, but also palace dignitaries like harem cupbearers and inspectors and high officials like treasury-chiefs, a troop-commander of Kush, a general, as well as several priests, military figures, and scribes of the House of Life, among others. But the core of the conspiracy was the lady Tiyi, probably a secondary spouse 22   Some other examples may be invoked: D.A. Aston and J.H. Taylor, “The Family of Takeloth III and the ‘Theban’ Twenty-third dynasty,” in Libya and Egypt c. 1300– 750 BC, ed. A. Leahy (London, 1990), 131–54; D. Polz, “The Ramsesnakht Dynasty and the Fall of the New Kingdom: A New Monument in Thebes,” SAK 25 (1998): 257– 93; Ch. Raedler, “Die Wesire Ramses’ II.—Netzwerke der Macht,” in Das ägyptische Königtum im Spannungsfeld zwischen Innen- und Aussenpolitik im 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 1), ed. R. Gundlach and A. Klug (Wiesbaden, 2004), 277–416; J.J. Shirley, “Viceroys, Viziers and the Amun Precinct: The Power of Heredity and Strategic Marriage in the Early 18th Dynasty,” JEH 3 (2010): 73–113; G. Broekman, “Theban Priestly and Governmental Offices and Titles in the Libyan Period,” ZÄS 138 (2011): 93–115.

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of Ramesses III and her son, the prince Pentaweret, with the Chief of a Department, Peibakkamen, playing the role of link between the conspirators inside and outside the harem and carrying the messages of the ladies involved to their brothers and mothers. The bonds of some prominent families with the royal family thus appear clearly, with women being sent to the harem as wives or concubines, while their male relatives occupied prominent positions in the palace and in the administration (KRI V 350–366). The fate of queen Tiyi, wife of Amenhotep III and native from Akhmim, is exemplary in this respect. While her parents did not belong to the royal family, her accession to such a prominent position was followed by the promotion of several officials from her province and by some royal building activity there.23 Finally, rebels could arise to dispute the authority of the dominant power and try to establish themselves as rulers. Their fortunes, obviously, varied, ranging from success (typified by the Theban monarchy of the First Intermediate Period), to death or exile (as the Chronicle of prince Osorkon24 and the bannissement stela demonstrate),25 even by royal pardon and the right to preserve their local power basis (as the victory stela of Piye shows).26 To sum up, the administration of the country necessarily relied on the collaboration of the elites, a support itself subject to changes over time due to the different modalities of integration of the provincial potentates, to the local scope of their authority, to the changing balance of power between provincial and central elites, to conflicts between the traditional nobility and dignitaries freshly promoted (including current favorites), and to the balance of power between the king and the different factions of the elite. Finding the most advantageous equilib-

23   Th. M. Davis, G. Maspero, and P. Newberry, The Tomb of Iouiya and Touiyou (London, 1907); J.E. Quibell, Tomb of Yuaa and Thuiu (Cairo, 1908); B.G. Ockinga, A Tomb from the Reign of Tutankhamun at Awad Azzaz (Akhmim) (ACE—Reports 10; Warminster, 1997); Y. El-Masry, “New Evidence for Building Activity of Akhenaten in Akhmim,” MDAIK 58 (2002): 391–98, pl. 40–41. In general, cf. Ch. Herrera, “De la KV 46 aux nécropoles d’Akhmîm: À la recherche de l’élite ‘akhmîmy’ du Nouvel Empire,” Égypte, Afrique and Orient 50 (2008): 37–46. 24   R.A. Caminos, The Chronicle of Prince Osorkon (AnOr 37; Rome, 1958); R.K. Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy: Inscriptions from Egypt’s Third Intermediate Period (Atlanta, 2009), 348–77 [82]. 25   J. von Beckerath, “Die ‘Stele der Verbannten’ im Museum des Louvre,” RdÉ 20 (1968): 7–36; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 124–29 [28]. 26   N. Grimal, La stèle triomphale de Pi(‘ankh)y au Musée du Caire (Cairo, 1981); Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 465–92 [145].



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rium must have been both a source of concern for the king and an opportunity to renew alliances and to mediate among factions in order to strengthen his own position. At a more basic level, shaping a core of select and trusted high officials was an important concern for the sovereigns. The sources reveal that the association of prominent officials with the mortuary complex of the king or with the temples (and with the income associated with them), the education of the children of the nobility with the princes (as ‘royal pupils’, like the sd̠t nswt of the Old Kingdom or the children of the kap), as well as the existence of some kind of royal council, helped in consolidating such a ruling elite, further integrated thanks to a common high culture and values, and cemented by marriage.27 In some particular cases, like the end of the Middle Kingdom, they also provided for indispensable institutional stability when a multitude of ephemeral kings occupied the throne of Egypt.28 The struggle for power within this context could be ruthless, not only in the more extreme cases of regicide, but also when the death of the sovereign opened the way to the ambitions of several pretenders to the throne. The trial of a queen in the reign of Pepy I, the request for a Hittite husband by an anonymous queen of the 18th Dynasty,29 and the trial of the conspirators against Ramesses III highlight a neglected, but essentially constitutive element of the ‘other’ administration: politics. Politics fixed the realistically desirable limits of collaboration among factions of the elite. Beyond such limits the cohesiveness of the ruling elite melted down, thus leading to territorial division, military conflict, and the periodic primacy of narrow interests and reorganization of the ruling elite. It is also quite probable that politics underlies the transfer of the capital from one city to another,   Moreno García, “Introduction. Élites et États tributaires”; Moreno García, Études sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Égypte, 93–151; B. Mathieu, “L’énigme du recrutement des ‘enfants du kap’: Une solution?,” GM 177 (2000): 41–48; S. Quirke, Titles and Bureaux of Egypt 1850–1700 BC (London, 2004), 27–29; B.M. Bryan, “Administration in the Reign of Thutmose III,” in Thutmose III: A New Biography, ed. E.H. Cline and D. O’Connor (Ann Arbor, 2006), 96–97. 28   S. Quirke, “Royal power in the 13th Dynasty,” in Middle Kingdom Studies, ed. S. Quirke (New Malden, 1991), 123–39. 29   F. Pintore, Il matrimonio interdinastico nel Vicino Oriente durante i secoli XV–XIII (Orientis Antiqui Collectio 14; Rome, 1978), 46–50; T.P.J. van den Hout, “Der Falke und das Kücken: Der neue Pharao un der hethitische Prinz,” ZA 84 (1994): 60–88; T.R. Bryce, The Kingdom of the Hittites (Oxford, 1998), 193–99; H. Klengel, Geschichte des hethitischen Reiches (HdO Abteilung 1/34; Leiden, 1999), 161–64; Klengel, Hattuschili und Ramses: Hethiter und Ägypter—Ihr langer Weg zum Frieden (Mainz, 2002), 43–47. 27

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perhaps as a response to internal tensions or to conflicts of interest among the ruling elite. The exercise of royal power thus appears less absolute and rigidly bureaucratic than expressed by the official ideology. Coping with the elite was crucial in this respect. Patronage Patronage appears to be a basic pillar of Egyptian society. It put into contact people from different social strata, constituted an essential path for the circulation of power and authority, and represented a fundamental means of social influence for potentates, while providing some measure of protection and access to authority to common people. The sources are quite informative in this respect, as they reveal, for instance, that the composition of Egyptian households varied greatly depending on their social status, but usually included not only people linked together by blood relations, but also other persons defined as co-residents, serfs, clients, ‘friends’, and dependents—the respective nuances often being quite difficult to distinguish (cf. ¡bt, wḥ jjt, mhwt, h¡w, hnw, h̠ nw, h̠ rw etc.).30 Some formulae in the Coffin Texts, for example, enumerate the categories of people encompassed by the term ¡bt (extended family) and constituting the household of the dead; its core was formed by his father, mother, children, brethren, and serfs (mrt) (CT II 151, 152, 154–5, 164, 181–183; III 52), as well as by other people related to him by social, not family links, such as fellow citizens (dmj), companions (jrj-rmnw), friends (ḫ nmsw), beloved ones (mrjjt), associates (sm¡w), and concubines (mt-ḥ nwt) (CT II 181–183). Broadly speaking, a distinction was made between his (extended) family (¡bt, including his serfs) and his dependents, subordinates, and acquaintances (hnw) (CT II 174–177; Urk. IV 1398: “all his kindred together with the household”), a distinction outlined by other sources where the extended family (h¡w, also including the serfs b¡kw), together with the friends (ḫ nmsw), constituted rmt̠.j nbt ‘all my people’.31 However, a late Ramesside letter makes clear the distinction between the rmt̠ ‘people’ and the smdt ‘servants’ of the writer.32 The illustration of such 30   D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen im Mittleren Reich (Hamburg, 1983), 178–301; Moreno García, “Household.” 31   D. Franke, Altägyptische Verwandtschaftsbezeichnungen, 219–20. 32   Cf. pBibl. Nat. 198, I, ligne 12 = J. Černy, Late Ramesside Letters (Bibliotheca Ægyptiaca 9; Brussels, 1939), 66; E. Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt (Atlanta, 1990), 198 [320].



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a system may be found in the correspondence of a moderately well-off official, like the early Middle Kingdom Heqanakht. On the one hand, he mentions eighteen people belonging to this household, including his mother, his second wife, his son, two daughters, his older aunt or daughter, his youngest brother, his foreman (and this man’s dependents), three cultivators, and three female servants.33 But, on the other hand, the letters and some accounts from his archive record twentyeight men with whom Heqanakht had financial dealings. The most prestigious one was Herunefer, addressed as Heqanakht’s social superior and identified as a jmj-r T¡-Mḥ w ‘overseer of the Delta’. He seems to have been the owner of some fields in the same area as Heqanakht. Two other neighbors were apparently fairly prosperous landowners who sold or leased substantial amounts of land to Heqanakht. Finally, twenty-five people (also neighbors in some cases) owed him barley and emmer, including a ḥ q¡ ḥ wt ‘governor of a ḥ wt’. Thus, the social network built around Heqanakht included people from different social environments (from higher, equal, and lower strata), where a single person could simultaneously occupy different social positions (as a subordinate of Heqanakht, while controlling other dependents, or, like Heqanakht himself, as subordinate of Herunefer, while being the head of a substantial household) and where all the people mentioned could be roughly ascribed to the household proper and to an extended network of social relations. Other sources, like the ink inscriptions found on many jars at the elite necropolis of Qubbet el-Hawa, and dating from the late 3rd millennium, provide detailed insight into the composition and social life of the households of several local high officials, with their tombs being foci of rituals and deliveries of offerings which tied together their kin as well as a dense web of relations, including clients and eminent local personalities.34 In the particularly well-documented case of tomb 88, which belonged to the ḫ tmw-bjtj ‘treasurer of the king of Lower Egypt’ and smr wʿtj ‘Unique friend’ Henababa, it was his apparently younger brother, Sobekhotep, who was in charge of the pr-d̠t and provided the bulk of the offerings to the tomb. But the actual offerings were

  J.P. Allen, The Heqanakht Papyri (New York, 2002), 116–17.   Cf. an example in M. Höveler-Müller, Funde aus dem Grab 88 der Qubbet elHawa bei Assuan (die Bonner Bestände) (Wiesbaden, 2006); Höveler-Müller, “ ‘Tales from the Crypt’: What the Inscribed Pottery from the Qubbet el-Hawa Can Tell Us,” in Zwischen den Welten: Grabfunde von Ägyptens Südgrenze, ed. L.D. Morenz, M. Höveler-Müller, and A. El-Hawary (Rahden, 2011), 254–65. 33 34

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presented by many people, including not only Sobekhotep’s grandmother, father, mother, brother, sisters, and daughters, but also other prominent members of local society, like two overseers of priests, a noble woman of the king, two ladies bearing the title ‘Ornament of the king’, the pr-d̠t of Henuzau, and other individuals without titles. Even in the tomb of his parents the greater part of the offerings came from the ‘house’ of Sobekhotep. So, we can conclude that this official succeeded in achieving eminent status in the local society, to the point that he provided not only for his own funerary cult, but also for that of his parents, thus reinforcing the solidarity of his kin and becoming the focus of a family cult. But Sobekhotep was not only a recipient of offerings. He was also a donor to other members of the local society, like Inihotep. Nevertheless, Inihotep also received funerary gifts from other eminent citizens apparently not related to Sobekhotep, as they were not mentioned in the tomb of the latter.35 So, Inihotep seems to have been involved in social circuits slightly different from those of Sobekhotep, even if both belonged to the local elite. Therefore, Egyptian households appear as multifaceted social networks embracing more distant relatives, serfs, clients, subordinates, and dependents, especially at the uppermost levels of pharaonic society. From this perspective, the silos in the richest villae of Amarna have been interpreted as a mark of status as well as the foci of a redistributive system involving not only their owners, but also their relatives and dependents, also considered members of the household.36 ‘Middle class’ papyri and houses show that the same principle was operative, although on a smaller scale, in the households of relatively modest officials and individuals.37 The fact that the households of the highest members of the elite could include hundreds of people (including dozens of servants), many of whom were also officials or members of a lesser elite (e.g., the Old Kingdom Saqqara tombs of Ti or Niankhkhnum and Khunmhotep)38

35   On Inihotep, see E. Edel, Die Felsengräber der Qubbet el Hawa bei Assuan. II. Abteilung: Die althieratischen Topfaufschriften. Band: Die Topfaufschriften aus den Grabungsjahren 1960, 1961, 1962, 1963 un 1965 (Wiesbaden, 1970), tomb 93. 36   B.J. Kemp, Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization (London, 1991), 309–10. 37   Allen, The Heqanakht Papyri; M.D. Adams, “Household Silos, Granary Models, and Domestic Economy in Ancient Egypt,” in The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt: Essays in Honour of David B. O’Connor (CASAE 26), ed. Z.A. Hawass and J. Richards (Cairo, 2007), vol. I, 1–23. 38   J.C. Moreno García, “La dépendance rurale en Égypte ancienne,” JESHO 51 (2008): 115–16.



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and who could be of memphite or provincial origins,39 it is not difficult to imagine the scope of their social influence. One particular environment—the royal palace—provides rich information about the organization of such patronage networks among the elite. More precisely, data from the funerary complexes of the pharaohs of the Old Kingdom allow for a privileged insight into the marks of status, the bonds of dependence, and the allegiances linking together the members of the palace at a given moment. Certainly, the most eminent courtiers were routinely represented on the walls of the temples in impersonal rows of courtiers paying homage to the pharaoh. However the archives offer additional information about their internal hierarchy. As the mortuary temples were indeed important economic centers, the high officials (who were also holders of lucrative prebends), were the main beneficiaries of royal largesse. Even Sabni of Aswan, a prominent official residing in the southernmost province of Egypt, was bestowed a substantial amount of land belonging to the pyramid of a king (Urk. I 140). The administrative archives from the mortuary temples of Neferirkare and Reneferef, from the 5th Dynasty, reveal that many courtiers, high dignitaries, and provincial officials participated periodically in the feasts and rituals of the temple and obtained in exchange substantial income.40 Nevertheless, given the nature of their ordinary occupations, they usually delegated the practical performance of such ritual activities to other subordinate dignitaries. Thus, the papyri frequently state that a specific duty was effectively accomplished by another man, qualified as d̠t ‘dependant’ or sn-d̠t ‘brother of the endowment’. Other tasks documented for the 3rd millennium sn-d̠t included building tombs for deceased persons, replacing the head of a family in the accomplishment of some works or in the provision of offerings and rituals for the dead, and representing or substituting another person in ceremonial activities or in compulsory work. Their activities were thus quite specific and independent of any actual family relationship between them and their ‘patrons’, as the fact 39   S.J. Seidlmayer, “People at Beni Hassan: Contributions to a Model of Ancient Egyptian Rural Society,” in The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt: Essays in Honour of David B. O’Connor (CASAE 26), ed. Z.A. Hawass and J. Richards (Cairo, 2007), vol. II, 351–68. 40   P. Posener-Kriéger, Les archives du temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï (les papyrus d’Abousir): Traduction et commentaire, 2 vols. (BdE 65; Cairo, 1976); P. Posener-Kriéger, M. Verner, and H. Vymazalová, The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef: The Papyrus Archive (Abusir X; Prague, 2007).

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that true brothers, sons, or wives of the ‘patron’ could also be designed by this term. But the best-documented role played by the sn-d̠t as a substitute or middleman was that of administrator of goods belonging to an endowment (pr-d̠t) for the benefit of his ‘patron’ (also owner of his own pr-d̠t), a procedure which allowed for keeping the two pr-d̠t formally separate while allowing the ‘patron’ to enlarge the range of goods at his disposal and to accumulate additional ritual functions. Usually, only one sn-d̠t was in the service of a ‘patron’, while in some cases two or three are also attested. The case of Ptḥ -ḥ tp II, with his fifteen or sixteen (at least) snw-d̠t, suggests an exceptionally prominent economic and social position, even for the standards of his time, when, from about the middle of the 5th dynasty on, the ‘patrons’ of the sn(w)-d̠t were viziers or officials involved in the administration of the vizier’s bureau. The case of the sn-d̠t is a good illustration of the kind of links which tied together the members of the Memphite elite. In this respect, it is worth remembering that the sn-d̠t were often rich enough to own their own tombs, could be represented at the same size as their ‘patrons’ in the tombs of the latter, and usually displayed important titles. These elements confirm their social status as members of the Egyptian elite, to the point that they could also have their own clients.41 Thus, the vertical integration provided by the patronage system strengthened the links between peers while at the same time putting common people into contact with patrons of lesser status related in turn to powerful potentates. Such was the case of Peteti, the dependent (d̠t) of the acquaintance of the king Itysen, but owner of his own tomb and, in turn, patron of a woman described as dependent (d̠t) and m¡t̠(r)t ‘mourner’.42 In fact, people called pr-d̠t or n(j) d̠t ‘(member) of a (personal) endowment’ are well known from many inscriptions at Elkab or Saqqara.43 In general, the private funerary monuments offer

41   J.C. Moreno García, “Nfr (CGC 57163) and Pttj (tomb G.S.E. 1923): Two New Old Kingdom Inscriptions from Giza and the Problem of sn-d̠t and d̠t in Pharaonic 3rd Millennium Society,” JEA 93 (2007): 117–36. 42   Z. Hawass, “The Tombs of the Pyramid Builders—The Tomb of the Artisan Petety and His Curse,” in Egypt, Israel, and the Ancient Mediterranean World: Studies in Honour of Donald B. Redford (PdÄ 20), ed. G.N. Knoppers and A. Hirsch (Leiden, 2004), 21–39. 43   Cf. LD II 117 [l, p, u]; G. Jequier, Tombeaux de particuliers contemporains de Pepi II (Cairo, 1929), 101, fig. 116. Cf. also titles like ḥ wt-ʿ¡t ‘(member) of the ḥ wt-ʿ¡t’, pr-ʿ¡ ‘member of the palace’, and so on.



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more accurate evidence of the importance of patronage, especially from the Middle Kingdom on, when it became customary to represent the dead, his extended family, and other dependents or clients. The Middle Kingdom chief of sculptors and overseer of the temple, Seshenu, for example, dedicated an altar at the funerary temple of king Snofru at Dashur. Nevertheless, the inscriptions recorded the piety not only of Seshenu, but of about fifteen other men of lesser status, mainly wab priests, a lector-priest, and a sculptor. Judging from the references to their mothers, it is evident that they were not members of Seshenu’s family. Consequently, the monument was erected by a small community of priests and artisans under the control of Seshenu, whose superior status was thus enhanced.44 As for the Senior Scribe Ramose [I] in New Kingdom Deir el-Medina, he left a large number of monuments (twenty-one stelae), the reason for which lies in his social prestige as instigator and overseer of Ramesses II’s cult within the Deir el-Medina community, with his own associated Hathor cult, while being also associated to his superior, the vizier Paser.45 In turn, many other individuals stressed their relationship to Ramose [I] by evoking him and vizier Paser in their tombs and on their monuments, and their social status was boosted thanks to their association with higher-ranking individuals with whom they could display a relationship. As for Ramose [I], he benefited in a similar fashion by inclusion on monuments of others, confirming his place in the monumental record and his central position within the community. Other officials from Deir el-Medina also erected a series of royal statues and provided for their cult by means of private donations,46 a practice which emphasized both their proximity to the court and to important patrons and their familiarity with the codes of high culture. Finally, it was not

44   P. Tallet, “Les équipes d’ouvriers royaux en Égypte au Moyen-Empire,” in Les régulations sociales dans l’Antiquité, ed. M. Molin (Rennes, 2006), 129–37, esp. 133–36. In other instances, the guild of artisans might have provided some protection for the widows of their members: K.A. Kóthay, “The Widow and Orphan in Egypt before the New Kingdom,” Acta Antiqua Academiae Sciantiarum Hungaricae 46 (2006): 151–64. 45   K. Exell, “The Senior Scribe Ramose (1) and the Cult of the King: A Social and Historical Reading of Some Private Votive Stelae from Deir el Medina in the Reign of Ramesses II,” in Current Research in Egyptology 2004, ed. R.J. Dann (Oxford, 2006), 51–67; Exell, Soldiers, Sailors and Sandalmakers: A Social Reading of Ramesside Period Votive Stelae (Egyptology 10; London, 2009), 135–36. 46   W. Hovestreydt, “A Letter to the King Relating to the Foundation of a Statue (P. Turin 1879 vso.),” Lingua Aegyptia 5 (1997): 107–21.

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uncommon for a dignitary to erect a stela in honor of his patron. The ‘domestic-servant’ (ḥ rj-pr) Ptahaa described himself in a late Middle Kingdom stela as a ‘guard’ (šmsw) of the King’s Son Bebi, and declared that he had dedicated the monument to Bebi “like a servant who loves his master should do” (m jrj ḥ m mrr nb.f ).47 Another Middle Kingdom stela, erected by a family from Qaw, but working in Abydos, includes an exceptional ḥ tp-dj-nswt formula that mentions the king, Osiris, and the ḥ ¡tj-ʿ ‘governor’ (of Qaw) W¡ḥ -k¡ as sources of the offerings.48 Later on, about 731 B.C., Horbes dedicated a stela to his father, the prophet of Ptah Pasherienptah, while also requesting the protection of OsirisApis for the Libyan chief Ankhor, a prominent local leader.49 As for the local influence of some patrons, it can be measured thanks to some information contained in titles and administrative quotations. While towns and villages were the basic territorial units from an administrative point of view, in some cases the pr ‘house, domain’ of a dignitary or a local potentate played a similar role. The ink inscriptions from Djeser’s pyramid, the Gebelein papyri, and some titles born by Metjen, all dating from the late Early Dynastic and the early Old Kingdom,50 reveal, for instance, that each of these ‘houses’ encompassed several localities and was a source of deliveries for the administration; shortly afterwards they disappeared from the administrative record until the end of the Old Kingdom, when the pr recovered its former importance. In all these cases it was quite common that the designation of a circumscription-pr was formed after personal names, a feature which might hint at the existence of local potentates. One notorious example is pr-Ḫ ww ‘the house/domain of Ḫ ww’—Ḫ ww being a governor of Edfu at the end of the Old Kingdom—a term used to designate the three southernmost provinces of

47   Stela Cairo CG 20578 = S. Kubisch, Lebensbilder der 2. Zwischenzeit: Biographische Inschriften der 13.–17. Dynastie (SDAIK 34; Berlin, 2008), 145–47. 48   Stela Cairo CG 20549 = J. Wegner, “External Connections of the Community of Wah-Sut during the Late Middle Kingdom,” in Perspectives on Ancient Egypt: Studies in Honor of Edward Brovarski (ASAE Supplément 40), ed. Z.A. Hawass, P. der Manuelian, and R.B. Hussein (Cairo, 2010), 437–58, esp. 442, 455 fig. 5. 49   Stela Louvre IM 3078 = O. Perdu in Tanis: L’or des pharaons (Paris, 1987), 156– 57 [37]. 50   Cf. P. Lacau and J.-Ph. Lauer, La pyramide à degrés. Vol. IV: Inscriptions gravées sur les vases (Cairo, 1959); Lacau and Lauer, La pyramide à degrés. Vol. V: Inscriptions à l’encre sur les vases (Cairo, 1965); P. Posener-Krieger, I Papiri di Gebelein—Scavi G. Farina 1935 (Turin, 2004); Urk. I 1–5.



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Upper Egypt.51 In other cases the geographical provenance of teams of workers was indicated either by the name of the locality from which they came or by the name of the official in charge of a specific region, as if his name had some kind of toponymic connotations, like the teams coming from the rmnjjt ‘domains’ or from the fields-ḫ bsw of some ­potentates.52 Even more extraordinary is the case of the officials designated as bw ‘place’, whose names were followed by the determinative of a town so as to express the geographical provenance of certain groups of workers.53 What this evidence reveals is that prominent dignitaries and local potentates were responsible for the delivery of workers, that the workforce thus mobilized depended in some way of its ‘patrons’, and that such ‘patrons’ were recognized as heads of their circumscriptions; in any case, the system seems compatible with other ways of getting manpower, like the lists of available workers prepared by the scribes and recorded by the administrative sources.54 The importance of such personal bonds in recruiting and organizing teams of workers is also apparent in the light of Old Kingdom graffiti,55 Middle Kingdom papyri,56 and New Kingdom ostraca.57 51   Cf. J. Vandier, Mo‘alla: La tombe d’Ankhtifi et la tombe de Sébekhotep (BdE 18; Cairo, 1950), 163–64. In general, S. Quirke, “The Egyptological Study of Placenames,” DE 21 (1991): 59–71. 52   F. Arnold, The South Cemeteries of Lisht 2: The Control Notes and Team Marks (New York, 1990), 26; W.K. Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II: Accounts of the Dockyard Workshop at This in the Reign of Sesostris I (Boston, 1965), pl. 13. 53   Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II, pl. 12. Cf. also P. Andrássy, “Symbols in the Reisner Papyri,” in Non-Textual Marking Systems, Writing and Pseudo Script from Prehistory to Modern Times (Lingua Ægyptia, Studia Monographica 8), ed. P. Andrássy, J. Budka, and F. Kammerzell (Göttingen, 2009), 113–22. 54   Moreno García, “Households.” 55   G. Castel, L. Pantalacci, and N. Cherpion, Balat V: Le mastaba de Khentika: Tombeau d’un gouverneur de l’Oasis à la fin de l’Ancien Empire (FIFAO 40; Cairo, 2001), 147–49; P. Andrassy, “Builders’ Graffiti and Administrative Aspects of Pyramid and Temple Building in Ancient Egypt,” in 7. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung: Structuring Religion (Königtum, Staat und Gesellschaft früher Hochkulturen 3/2), ed. R. Preys (Wiesbaden, 2007), 1–16. 56   J.C. Moreno García, “Les temples provinciaux et leur rôle dans l’agriculture institutionnelle de l’Ancien et du Moyen Empire,” in L’agriculture institutionnelle en Égypte ancienne: État de la question et perspectives interdisciplinaires (CRIPEL 25), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2006), 113–19. 57   As in the case of the three men recruited from the household of a priestess for the purpose of carrying sand, or the three individuals who provided, respectively, 19, 18 and 20 + x (?) workers according to oDAI/Asasif 56: M. Römer, “Die Ostraka DAI/Asasif 55 und 56—Dokumente der Bauarbeiten in Deir el-Bahri und im Asasif unter Thutmosis III.,” in Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer (MENES 5), ed. E.-M. Engel, V. Müller, and U. Hartung

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It thus becomes clear that the ideal of self-sufficiency proclaimed in many private inscriptions was hardly achievable for many Egyptians, who were obliged to depend on powerful or influential fellow citizens and to join their patronage networks, to the point of being considered part of their households. Such networks provided a kind of ‘vertical integration’ in addition to the ‘horizontal’ one constituted by the family and neighbors, hence linking high officials to minor ones, local potentates to courtiers, officials to ordinary workers and citizens, and so on. A New Kingdom ostracon, for instance, reports that fugitive oarsmen were found in the company (under the protection?) of prominent officials at different locations in the Delta.58 Old Kingdom lists of personnel frequently state that workers were actually replaced by their wives, fathers, brothers, sons, daughters, or by other persons (referred to with terms like sn-d̠t or d̠t) when performing their duties.59 Middle Kingdom papyri from Lahun confirm this practice: in one case the names of several workers were accompanied by annotations specifying that they should be brought in person or replaced by their wives, mothers, or Asiatics (serfs?);60 in another case, a governor requested two workers or, in their place, men or women from among their own dependents (h̠ rw);61 finally, another papyrus not only listed a labor force, but also identified the persons (usually priests and officials) for whom the worker answered the call (in one case the substitute was a h̠ r

(Wiesbaden, 2008), 619–24. Cf. also J. Budka, “Non-Textual Marks from the Asasif (Western-Thebes): Remarks on Function and Practical Use Based on External Textual Evidence,” in Non-Textual Marking Systems, Writing and Pseudo Script from Prehistory to Modern Times (Lingua Ægyptia, Studia Monographica 8), ed. P. Andrássy, J. Budka, and F. Kammerzell (Göttingen, 2009), 179–203. 58   M. Gabolde, “Des travailleurs en vadrouille,” in Hommages à Jean-Claude Goyon offerts pour son 70e anniversaire (BdE 143), ed. L. Gabolde (Cairo, 2008), 181–96, esp. 187–90, 196 fig. 2. Cf. a similar case in pStrasburg 39: S. Allam, Hieratische Ostraka und Papyri aus der Ramessidenzeit (Urkunden zum Rechtsleben im alten Ägypten 1; Tübingen, 1973), 104–5, 307–8; Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 206 [332]. 59   Moreno García, “Nfr (CGC 57163) and Pttj (tomb G.S.E. 1923)”, 126–29. 60   U. Luft, Urkunden zur Chronologie der späten 12. Dynastie: Briefe aus Illahun (Wien, 2006), 92–93. Cf. a recently published Middle Kingdom stela on which several members of the owner’s household are labeled as Asiatics or bear foreign names: H. Satzinger and D. Stefanović, “The Domestic Servant of the Palace rn-snb,” in From Illahun to Djeme: Papers Presented in Honour of Ulrich Luft (BAR International Series 2311), ed. E. Bechtold, A. Gulyás, and A. Hasznos (Oxford, 2011), 241–45. 61   U. Luft, “Papyrus Kairo JdE 71582 (früher Papyrus Berlin P. 10020),” in Egyptian Museum Collections around the World: Studies for the Centennial of the Egyptian Museum, Cairo, ed. M.M. Eldamaty and M. Trad (Cairo, 2002), vol. II, 743–52.



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‘dependent’).62 In one instance, several men were even listed as ‘men of N’, N being a priest or an official.63 New Kingdom sources also mention tenants acting as agents of scribes (Wilbour papyrus A 90, 8) or cultivators ( jḥ wtj) dependent on a dignitary, like the pr n jḥ wtj P¡jj.sn n( j) sš ʿ¡-nrj ‘the house(hold) of the cultivator Paysen attached to the scribe Aanery’.64 In exchange for their services, the superior was to take care of his subjects (for example, in case of illness, lawsuits, etc.).65 Such bonds linking clients and subordinates to their patron’s household were explicitly marked by the use of kinship terms. Thus, compulsory workers were sometimes described as the ‘sons’ of prominent citizens: “N, he is called the son of Senbebu, a priest of Thinis,” “N, he is called the son of Hepu, a commander of soldiers [of Thinis].”66 Such practice was in no way limited to people of lesser status, as palatial officials were also explicitly labeled ‘friends’ (ḫ nms.f ) or ‘(pseudo-)children’ (h̠ rd.f ) of their superior.67 More clearly, the relation patron/client was sometimes formalized by means of legal contracts,68 even by fictitious adoptions which masked what, in fact, constituted the voluntary servitude of the person called šrj ‘son’.69 In other cases, people in trouble 62   M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri: Accounts (BAR International Series 1471; Oxford, 2006), 44–45. 63   Cf. pBerlin 10104 = S. Quirke, “ ‘Townsmen’ in the Middle Kingdom,” ZÄS 118 (1991): 145. 64   Cf. pBM 10068 v° 3:22 = T.E. Peet, The Great Tomb-Robberies of the Twentieth Egyptian Dynasty (Oxford, 1930), 95, pl. 14. 65   Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 56–57 [64]; M. Chauveau, “Administration centrale et autorités locales d’Amasis à Darius”; M. Müller, “The ‘El-Hibeh’-Archive: Introduction and Preliminary Information,” in The Libyan Period in Egypt: Historical and Cultural Studies in the 21st–24th Dynasties (Egyptologische Uitgaven 23), ed. G.P.F. Broekman, R.J. Demarée, and O.E. Kaper (Leiden, 2009), 264. 66   Cf. pBrooklyn 35.1446, r°, I, lignes 5, 6 et 10 = W.C. Hayes, A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum (Papyrus Brooklyn 35.1446) (New York, 1955), 25–26, 30, pl. I. 67   The use of kinship terms to express actual patron-client relations is well known in Middle Kingdom sources: D. Franke, “Sem-priest on Duty,” in Discovering Egypt from the Neva: The Egyptological Legacy of Oleg D. Berlev, ed. S. Quirke (Berlin, 2003), 74. For a similar case attested in Mesopotamia, in which individual dignitaries are declared ‘sons’ of many other men simultaneously, cf. M. Widell, “Reflections on Some Households and Their Receiving Officials in the City of Ur in the Ur III Period,” JNES 63 (2004): 283–90. 68   P.W. Pestman, Les papyrus démotiques de Tsenhor (P. Tsenhor): Les archives privées d’une femme égyptienne du temps de Darius Ier (Studia Demotica 4; Leuven, 1994), 37. 69   M. Malinine and J. Pirenne, Documents juridiques égyptiens (Deuxième série) (Anvers, 1950), 76–77.

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sold ­themselves or delivered their goods to a patron in exchange for protection,70 to the point that a formal distinction between ‘free men’ and serfs was established in Late Period contracts. It is apparent, for instance, in some papyri from the first half of the first millennium that mark a sharp contrast between jr b¡k ‘acting like a serf ’ and jr nmḥ ‘acting like a free man’,71 an opposition seeking to display the social status of people. A papyrus from the reign of Darius I specifies that only some priests could become lesonis and, in contrast to the nominee who was the servant of another man (p¡ ntj-jw b¡k ‘one who is a servant’) and had thus been rejected, an acceptable nominee should be a man of social stature and therefore subservient to no other (rmt̠ ʿ¡ ‘great man, man of importance’). A man who was the servant of another man was not a free man (rmt̠ nmḥ ), but had sold himself and his descendants to another by a contract of servitude; such an indentured person was the opposite of a ‘great man, man of importance’.72 In fact, later sources, like the Ptolemaic self-dedications, document a practice whereby a person declared himself the ‘slave’ (b¡k) of a god, entered his service, and engaged to pay an annual fixed sum, either forever or for a period of ninety-nine years. In return the ‘slave’ could expect protection from the patron.73 It is difficult to assert if such ίεροδουλοι/b¡kw continued a pharaonic tradition.   Cf. the stela Cairo 27/6/24/3 = A.M. Bakir, Slavery in Pharaonic Egypt (CASAE 18; Cairo, 1952), 85–86, pl. 2–4; Louvre E 706 r° = ibid., pl. 17; pLouvre 7832 = K. Donker van Heel, Abnormal Hieratic and Early Demotic Texts Collected by the Theban Choachytes in the Reign of Amasis (Leiden, 1995), 176–82; pRylands V = F. Ll. Griffith, Catalogue of the Demotic Papyri in the John Rylands Library (Manchester, 1909), vol. 3, 53–54. 71   Cf. pBibliothèque Nationale 223, r° 2–3 = M. Malinine, Choix de textes juridiques en hiératique “anormal” et en démotique (XXVe–XXVIIe dynasties) (Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes-Études 300; Paris, 1953), 50–55; pRylands VI 2–3 = F. Ll. Griffith, Catalogue of the Demotic Papyri in the John Rylands Library, vol. I, pl. XVII–XIX; vol. II, pl. XVII–XVIII; vol. III, 54–55, 213–15; pLouvre N 706, 3–5 = Malinine and Pirenne, Documents juridiques égyptiens, 73–74. 72   Cf. pBerlin 13540 = G.R. Hughes, “The So-Called Pherendates Correspondence,” in Grammata Demotika: Festschrift für Erich Lüddeckens zum 15. Juni 1983, ed. H.-J. Thissen and K.-Th. Zauzich (Würzburg, 1984), 75–86, esp. 77–84. On rmt̠ nmḥ cf. H.J. Thissen, Die demotischen Graffiti von Medinet Habu: Zeugnisse zu Tempel und Kult in ptolemäischen Ägypten (Demotische Studien 10; Sommerhausen, 1989), 39–40 [9]. 73   J.A.S. Evans, “A social and economic history of an Egyptian temple in the GrecoRoman period,” Yale Classical Studies 17 (1961): 199; J.G. Manning, “Land and Status in Ptolemaic Egypt: The Status Designation ‘occupation title + b¡k + divine name’,” in Grund und Boden in Altägypten, ed. S. Allam (Tübingen, 1994), 147–75; M. Depauw, A Companion to Demotic Studies (Papyrologica Bruxellensia 28; Brussels, 1997), 70



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Indeed, ‘great men’ quite often appear in the written record from the end of the second millennium as prominent members of their communities. The famous trial of Mose, for example, shows them playing the role of witnesses in the assignation of land to the members of a settlement (KRI III 429:8–9) and taking the oath before the delegate of the Court sent to the village to judge between parties (KRI III 433:3).74 Later, the demotic literature presents the notables of the villages as the main local authorities, as if the localities were entirely in their hands, with no royal authority even mentioned.75 Their ties to the local temples further strengthened their authority, as in the case of a demotic literary text where a local potentate (lit. a ‘great man’) was also a priest in the local temple, a profitable source of income, as he obtained part of the agricultural income of the sanctuary because of his condition of priest and, in addition, he also exploited some fields of the temple as a cultivator in exchange for a part of the harvest; the considerable wealth thus amassed allowed him to pay wages to the personnel of the temple, who were thus considered his clients (the text states that he had ‘acquired’ them) and he could even marry his sons and daughters to priests and potentates (lit. ‘great men’) of another town.76 Quite probably, the chiefs of a village (ḥ q¡ nwt, ḥ ¡tj-ʿ) came from this social milieu, and their condition of real local authorities in troubled political times is expressed, for instance, in a passage of papyrus Harris I referring to the anarchy prevailing at the end of the 19th dynasty: “the land of Egypt was in the hands of chiefs (wrw) and of rulers of towns (ḥ q¡w nwt)”.77 The sources confirm that their social position was further enhanced because of their role as mediators between the royal 136–37; S. Lippert, Einführung in die altägyptische Rechtsgeschichte (Einführungen und Quellentexte zur Ägyptologie 5; Berlin, 2008), 164–65. 74   On the rmt̠ ʿ¡ and the role they played, see S. Allam, “Elders (Πρεσβύτεροι), Notables and Great Men,” in Acts of the Seventh International Conference of Demotic Studies (Copenhagen, 23–27 August 1999) (CNI Publications 27), ed. K. Ryholt (Copenhagen, 2002), 1–26; Allam, “Chief of the qenbet?,” ZÄS 128 (2001): 84–85. Sometimes the term had a negative nuance: W.J. Tait, “P. Carlsberg 207: Two Columns of a Setna Text,” in The Carlsberg Papyri, 1: Demotic Texts from the Collection (CNI Publications 15), ed. K.-Th. Zauzich, J. Tait, and M. Chauveau (Copenhagen, 1991), 30. 75   D. Agut-Labordère, “Les ‘petites citadelles’: La sociabilité du tmy ‘ville’, ‘village’ à travers les sagesses démotiques,” in Espaces et territoires de l’Égypte gréco-romaine (Cahier de l’atelier Aigyptos 1), ed. G. Gorre and P. Kossmann (Paris, in press). 76   J. Tait, “Pa-di-pep Tells Pharaoh the Story of the Condemnation of Djed-her: Fragments of Demotic Narrative in the British Museum,” Enchoria 31 (2008–2009), 113–43, pl. 13, esp. 115–24. 77   Cf. pHarris I 75:4 = P. Grandet, Le papyrus Harris I, vol. I, p. 335.

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administration and the population in general, especially when paying taxes, delivering products at the mooring-posts, providing manpower when requested, or cultivating the fields of the crown and of the ­temples.78 Nevertheless, and in spite of their local relevance, the chiefs of the villages are almost invisible in the archaeological record, and only exceptionally did they have access to the prestigious goods reserved to the elite.79 Sometimes the tombs of apparently wealthy peasants or of people richer than their neighbors reveal such social differences in the countryside.80 The administrative sources of the New Kingdom, like the Wilbour papyrus or the Ramesside administrative documents, frequently mention cultivators ( jḥ wtjw) who worked substantial pieces of land; some of them were even able to deliver thousands of sacks of cereals at different localities. Their position was obviously not that of the poor jḥ wtj of the literary texts but, quite the contrary, that of true rural potentates capable of mobilizing enough manpower to cultivate large tracts of land and to cope with heavy fiscal obligations.81 This might explain why one such jḥ wtj acted as an agent for the ḥ ¡tj-ʿ of

78   Some examples in Posener-Krieger, I Papiri di Gebelein, passim; Urk. I 294; Moreno García, Ḥ wt et le milieu rural égyptien du IIIe millénaire, 229–32; statue Louvre AF 9913 = E. Delange, Catalogue des statues égyptiennes du Moyen Empire, 2060– 1560 avant J.-C. (Paris, 1987), 220–23; G.P.F. van den Boorn, The Duties of the Vizier (London, 1988), 98–109, 234, 286–87, 336–37; N. de G. Davies, The Tomb of Rekhmi-re at Thebes (New York, 1973), pl. 29–35, 40 [1]; Cl. Traunecker, “Amenhotep IV percepteur royal du Disque,” in Akhénaton et l’époque amarnienne (Paris, 2005), 145–82; pTurin 1895+2006 2:5, 14 = A.H. Gardiner, Ramesside Administrative Documents (Oxford, 1948), 37; Gardiner, “A Protest against Unjustified Tax-Demands,” RdÉ 6 (1951): 115–33. As for the mooring posts, cf. Urk. IV 2149:14–2151:13; J.-M. Kruchten, Le Décret d’Horemheb: Traduction, commentaire épigraphique, philologique et institutionnel (Brussels, 1981), 96–99, 109–14; D.B. Redford, Egypt and Canaan in the New Kingdom (Beer-Sheva 4; Beer-Sheva, 1990), 56–61; R.A. Caminos, “The Nitocris Adoption Stela,” JEA 50 (1964): 74, pl. 8. Cf. also pReisner II section D = Simpson, Papyrus Reisner II, 20–21, pl. 7–7a. 79   As in the case of two statues of the Old Kingdom belonging to two ḥ q¡w (nwt): J.C. Moreno García, “Ḥ q¡w “jefes, gobernadores” y élites rurales en el III milenio antes de Cristo: Reflexiones acerca de algunas estatuas del Imperio Antiguo,” in . . . Ir a buscar leña: Estudios dedicados al profesor Jesús López, ed. J. Cervelló Autuori and A.J. Quevedo Alvarez (Barcelona, 2001), 141–54; A.O. Bolshakov, “ʿnḫ -wd̠.s: St. Petersburg–Cambridge,” GM 188 (2002): 21–48; Bolshakov, Studies on Old Kingdom Reliefs and Sculpture in the Hermitage (ÄA 67; Wiesbaden, 2005), 17–32, pl. 1–8. 80   W. Grajetzki, The Middle Kingdom of Ancient Egypt: History, Archaeology and Society, (London, 2006), 149–51; K. Woda, “Provincial Society and Cemetery Organization in the New Kingdom,” SAK 36 (2007): 349–89. 81   J.C. Moreno García, “Les jḥ wtjw et leur rôle socio-économique au IIIe et IIe millénaires avant J.-C.,” in Élites et pouvoir en Égypte ancienne (CRIPEL 28), ed. J.C. Moreno García (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 2010), 321–351.



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Thebes in another province in the 18th Dynasty.82 In other cases, local notables apparently not related to the circle of the scribes, nomarchs, or agents of the crown, nevertheless imitated the noble monuments in use by the higher elite like, for instance, (collective) mastabas.83 Furthermore, the fact that rich anepigraphic provincial tombs were surrounded by minor burials suggest the existence of patronage networks controlled by otherwise unknown local potentates.84 Lastly, the definition of such elusive sub-elites, whose support was nevertheless crucial in order to enforce the orders of the king and of his representatives, is quite a difficult task, as they very seldom produced documents of their own.85 That the priest Sobekaa boasted about serving noblemen and overseers of Upper Egypt at the end of the 3rd millennium is nothing extraordinary in itself.86 However, when other contemporary priests and scribes proudly proclaim that they worked for simple village governors (ḥ q¡w), chiefs (ḥ rjw-tp), and administrators (jmjw-r pr), they reveal the real importance of these authorities, usually hidden under the stereotypical iconography of the punished or bowing chief of a village.87 The simultaneous existence of several 82   Cf. pBerlin 10463 = R.A. Caminos, “Papyrus Berlin 10463,” JEA 49 (1963): 29–37. 83   S.J. Seidlmayer, “Die Ikonographie des Todes,” in Social Aspects of Funerary Culture in the Egyptian Old and Middle Kingdoms (OLA 103), ed. H. Willems (Leuven, 2001), 205–52; Seidlmayer, “Vom Sterben der kleinen Leute: Tod und Bestattung in der sozialen Grundschicht am Ende des Alten Reiches,” in Grab und Totenkult im Alten Ägypten, ed. H. Guksch, E. Hofmann, and M. Bommas (Munich, 2003), 60–74. Cf. also J.C. Moreno García, “La gestion sociale de la mémoire dans l’Égypte du IIIe millénaire: Les tombes des particuliers, entre utilisation privée et idéologie publique,” in Dekorierte Grabanlagen im Alten Reich—Methodik und Interpretation (IBAES 6), ed. M. Fitzenreiter and M. Herb (London, 2006), 223–32; W. Grajetzki, “Multiple Burials in Ancient Egypt to the End of the Middle Kingdom,” in Life and Afterlife in Ancient Egypt during the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period (Egyptology 7), ed. S. Grallert and W. Grajetzki (London, 2007), 16–34. 84   S.J. Seidlmayer, Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich: Studien zur Archäologie der Ersten Zwischenzeit (SAGA 1; Heidelberg, 1990). 85   J.C. Moreno García, “Élites provinciales, transformations sociales et idéologie à la fin de l’Ancien Empire et à la Première Période Intermédiaire,” in Des Néferkarê aux Montouhotep: Travaux archéologiques en cours sur la fin de la VIe dynastie et la Première Période Intermédiare (TMO 40), ed. L. Pantalacci and C. Berger-El-Naggar (Lyon, 2005), 215–28. 86   Hieroglyphic Texts from Egyptian Stelae, etc, I1 (London, 1911), pl. 54. 87   Examples: J.-J. Clère and J. Vandier, Textes de la Première Période Intermédiaire et de la XIème dynastie (Bibliotheca Ægyptiaca 10; Brussels, 1948), 1 [1], 2–3 [3]; J. Černy, “The Stela of Merer in Cracow,” JEA 47 (1961): 5–9, pl. I; Urk. I 258: 3 = T. Säve-Söderbergh, The Old Kingdom Cemetery at Hamra Dom (El-Qasr wa esSaiyad) (Stockholm, 1994), 48, pl. 25.

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such chiefs in a single province again confirms the existence of local potentates whose authority extended beyond the limits of a locality, so as to encompass a circumscription; it also provides some evidence about the pr ‘house’ of prominent men, whose traces can occasionally be detected in the topography.88 Only in the case of the governors of a city is the information about their social origins somewhat more detailed, usually revealing that they enjoyed a higher status: a graffito from Sayala in Nubia, from the end of the 3rd millennium, states that the overseer of artisans, Irunetjeru, was the father of the governor (ḥ q¡) of Hierakonpolis,89 whereas the lady Aset from Edfu, who lived under the 17th Dynasty, was the daughter of a ḥ ¡tj-ʿ and wife, mother, and daughter-in-law, respectively, of three ‘Sons of the King’, the title referring to the military chief of a city.90 Informal Paths of Authority and “Vertical” Circulation of Power Given the official nature of the bulk of the sources at our disposal, any mention of conflict or misconduct is simply ignored or, at best, treated in an exemplary way so as to contrast reprehensible as opposed to virtuous behavior in order to ensure the final triumph of the maat. Therefore, only self-explanatory proclamations, judicial affairs, or private documents like letters, usually restricted to inter-elite trouble, make it possible to learn about disputes, crimes, and intrigues, as well as about the means mobilized by the confronted parties in order to prevail or, at least, to gain support from their superiors. In such cases, the description of the informal resources employed for mobilizing authority—not necessarily alongside with formal or ‘legal’ ones—allow a glimpse of the importance of patronage, social influence, well-placed contacts and corruption in everyday affairs. To being with, we can turn our attention to temples. Being privileged poles of social and economic power in ancient Egypt, their

  Moreno García, “Élites provinciales, transformations sociales et idéologie,” 222–23.   H. Satzinger, “Felsinschriften aus dem Gebiet von Sayâla (Ägyptisch-Nubien),” in Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak (OLA, 149), ed. E. Czerny, I. Hein, H. Hunger, D. Melman, and A. Schwab (Leuven, 2006), vol. III, 140–41 [inscr. n° 4]. 90   M. Marée, “Nouvelles données sur l’élite d’Edfou à la fin de la XVIIe dynastie,” in Égypte, Afrique and Orient 53 (2009): 20. Cf. also his important contribution “Edfu under the Twelfth to Seventeenth Dynasties.” 88 89



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c­ ontrol paved the way for frequent clashes among priests or between the temples and the dominant powers, thus giving unique insight into the social relations built around them and into the conflicting interests among factions in Egyptian society. As has been mentioned above, only local potentates were considered eligible as lesonis in the temples under Darius I reign. In fact, the income, prestige, and influential social relations associated with temple prebendes explain why priesthood—especially middle and high ranking functions—was reserved to members of the elite during the Pharaonic past,91 with severe measures taken to restrict access to such coveted positions. Alternatively, bribes were used as a means of joining the temple staff, to the point that royal decrees were periodically enacted in order to prevent this fraudulent practice.92 In other cases, sacerdotal functions were openly bought and sold.93 And it was not uncommon for former beneficiaries of prebends and fields of the temples that they could be dispossessed by force or see their rights usurped by others,94 including cases in which officials occupying high positions in a temple were removed from office by royal decree as a result of their involvement in conspiracies, while their supporters were threatened with retaliation.95 The troubled times of the Third Intermediate Period witnessed many disruptions in the normal life of sanctuaries, and internal conflicts among their personnel became common currency in the sources. In one case, simple cultivators had become wab-priests in the temple

91   In some cases it was explicitly stated that noblemen and their offspring, as well as military personnel, were to be recruited as personnel of the temples: Urk. IV 1670:10– 11; 2029:9; 2120:9–11. Cf. the contempt expressed by certain priests at the possibility that a son of a merchant could also enter the priesthood (papyrus Turin 1887 r° I, 12–14): B. Porten, The Elephantine Papyri in English: Three Millennia of Cross-Cultural Continuity and Change (Leiden, 1996), 47–48. 92   Cf., for instance, the decrees by Horemheb and Sethi II: Kruchten, Le décret d’Horemheb, 151, 159. The practice is described, for instance, in the pTurin 1887 r° I:12–14: Gardiner, Ramesside Administrative Documents, 75. 93   Cf. pUC 32055: M. Collier and S. Quirke, The UCL Lahun Papyri, 102–3. 94   Cf. pBerlin 3047: KRI II 803–6; pBM 10373: J.J. Janssen, Late Ramesside Letters and Communications (London, 1991), 43–47, pl. 26–29; pBM EA 75016: R.J. Demarée, The Bankes Late Ramesside Papyri (London, 2006), 9–10, pl. 5–6. Cf. also KRI III 41–43; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 258–61 [62], as well as Amenemope VI, 16–17: “do not remove a servant (b¡k) of the god so as to do favours to another”. Cf. also pMunich 809 (W. Spiegelberg, “Ein Gerichtsprotokollaus der Zeit Thutmosis’ IV”, ZÄS 63 [1928], 105-115), where the claims of a soldier over some revenue due to Hathor of Gebelein were disregarded by a court. 95   Cf. the decree of Antef V: W. Helck, Historisch-biographische Texte der 2. Zwischenzeit und neue Texte der 18. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 20023), 73–74 [106].

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of Khnum at Elephantine, and the authorities felt it necessary to send their representatives in order to restore the temple and to return such cultivators to their former condition.96 In another case, the installation of the high priest Menkheperre followed the displacement of an unnamed rival and the exile to the Kharga Oasis of the defeated faction, who were later formally forgiven and recalled by Amun with the full agreement of Menkheperre.97 Finally, an oracular procedure from Karnak records the fiscal abuses inflicted against the Theban lesser clergy by higher clergy and bureaucrats, perhaps in the framework of competing factions surrounding the rival high priests Osorkon (B) and Harsiese (B), the former one being apparently supported by the lower clergy while the latter backed by the local elite.98 The Chronicle of prince Osorkon contains the most detailed account of such fights among Theban factions, including several exiles of Osorkon (B), his return and retaliations against his rivals, and his many endowments to the temples.99 In such a stormy context, the king could be tempted to establish his own sons at the head of all prominent offices of the country, as in the case of Osorkon II: “[You (= the gods) will] fashion my seed, the semen come forth from my body [to become] the great [ruler]s of Egypt, the Hereditary Princes, First Prophets of Amon, King of the Gods, great chiefs of the Ma, [great] chiefs of the foreigners and prophets of Harsaphes, King of the Two Lands, after I have commanded (it)” and “You will establish my children upon their [offices . . . that] I gave to them, without a brother being resentful of his brother.”100 Later, after the restoration of an unified monarchy during the Saite period, the conflicts around the temples continued, especially under the reign of Amasis. A memorandum from Thebes, for instance, records that raising taxes from the temples in the area of Elephantine

  96   S.J. Seidlmayer, MDAIK 38 (1982): 329–34, pl. 72; K. Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit. Teil I: Die 21. Dynastie (Wiesbaden, 2007), 120–21 [33].   97   Von Beckerath, “Die ‘Stele der Verbannten’ im Museum des Louvre,” RdÉ 20 (1968), 7-36; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 124–29 [28].   98   P. Vernus, “Inscriptions de la Troisième Période Intermédiaire (IV): Le texte oraculaire réemployé dans le passage axial du IIIe pylône dans le temple de Karnak,” Cahiers de Karnak 6 (1973–1977), 215–33; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 380–82 [85].   99   Caminos, The Chronicle of Prince Osorkon; Jansen-Winkeln, Inschriften der Spätzeit, vol. II, pp. 161–68; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 348–77 [82]. 100   H.K. Jacquet-Gordon, “The Inscriptions on the Philadelphia-Cairo statue of Osorkon II,” JEA 46 (1960): 12–23; Ritner, The Libyan Anarchy, 283–88 [74].



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was subject to the interference of “enemies”,101 while a contemporary governor was said to have usurped some income from the temple of Khentamenti in Abydos: “I gave income from the desert of the Thinite nome to the temple, having found it in the hands of the governor, so that Abydenes would have burials. I gave the ferryboat of the Thinite nome to the temple, having taken it away from the governor. . . .”102 But the most detailed evidence about the ways in which access to authority could be mobilized in order to support one’s claims undoubtedly comes from Rylands Papyrus 9. Therein an overseer of fields eager to take revenge on a certain Hormakhoru for an unspecified reason learned that Hormakhoru was linked to the priests of Amon in a small provincial town in the Heracleopolitan nome, as he was the priest of the cult of a statue of Amasis endowed with the considerable amount of 120 aruras of land; in addition, he also learned that the priests of this local temple had usurped 444.5 arouras from the royal domain on an island. So the overseer of fields profited from this information to exact his revenge by expropriating the priests all the land they cultivated on the island, both legally and illegally, for a total amount of 929 arouras. The only realistically effective countermeasure available for the priests apparently consisted in asking for help from an official of higher rank than the overseer of fields. So they contacted a courtier without any particular title, but who was quite close to the king and who acquiesced to exert his influence . . . in exchange for a considerable ‘gift’, including a huge quantity of grain, oil, honey, and fowl, and the appointment of his brother as high priest of Amon in their temple. Having heard both parties, the king finally supported the version of the facts provided by the overseer of the fields, returning to the priests the domain that they legally held on the island. The influence mobilized by the priests turned out to be quite ineffective in the end.103 But the story did not end there. When the brother of the courtier was appointed by the priests as a member of the local clergy of Amon,

101   J. Černy, “The Abnormal-Hieratic Tablet Leiden I 431,” in Studies Presented to F. Ll. Griffith (London, 1932), 46–56, pl. 2–7. 102   Statue of Peftuaneith from Abydos (Louvre A 93): M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature. Volume III: The Late Period (Berkeley, 1980), 33–36; J. Heise, Erinnern und Gedenken. Aspekte der biographischen Inschriften der ägyptischen Spätzeit (OBO 226; Fribourg-Göttingen, 2007), 229–33. 103   G. Vittmann, Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9, 2 vols. (ÄAT 38; Wiesbaden, 1998); Chauveau, “Administration centrale et autorités locales d’Amasis à Darius,” 100–3.

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he also learned that his nomination had no legal effect, as the former holder of the position had not formally renounced to it. So the priests put pressure on Udjasomtu, father of the author of the papyrus, Peteise, to force him to sign his resignation. But Udjasomtu and Peteise fled to Hermopolis, a circumstance that did not stop the priests from destroying Peteise’s house, throwing into the river the statues of his ancestor formerly in the temple, and erasing a stela where his priestly titles were displayed. Peteise nevertheless managed to become a scribe in the service of Imhotep, the local deputy of a high Memphite dignitary. Having won Imhotep’s affection through hard work, Imhotep agreed to defend Peteise’s case before his superior, the Memphite overseer of the portal, with the result that the latter dispatched two letters to the local authorities (the governor of Heracleopolis and the overseer of the local troops) instructing them to arrest all the people involved in the destruction of the good Peteise’s family. Nevertheless, the priests did not renounce easily: they denied all the accusations and continued to count on the good offices of their own protector in the court. And when the governor of Heracleopolis realized that the courtier and the Memphite overseer of the portal were not certainly to quarrel about an obscure local matter and that Peteise risked having no satisfaction at all, he finally proposed to Peteise a relatively disappointing compromise: the priests should not be punished but, in exchange, they should pay ten deben in damages and not oppose the return of Peteise and his family to the temple.104 Luckily enough, conflicts and rivalries did not necessarily go so bitterly. Criticizing and running down the deeds of a rival, while extolling one’s own achievements, might serve to gain the esteem of a superior; such was the procedure followed by an administrator against his opponent Nedjem when the former described his astonishing increases in agricultural produce and taxes to the steward of the estate of Sety II in the domain of Amun, while the poor Nedjem “who used to be high steward, did not [approach (?)] me at all” (KRI IV 343). Leaving aside the temple sphere, similar procedures for obtaining justice were operative in the ‘civil’ world. The background of social relations described in the tale of the Eloquent Peasant shows, for instance, many parallels with the story told in Rylands Papyrus 9. Here, again, 104   Chauveau, “Administration centrale et autorités locales d’Amasis à Darius,” 103–5.



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a peasant unjustly deprived of his property by the covetous Nemtinakht, a “client (d̠t) of the High Steward Meru’s son Rensi,” decided to defend his case by directly addressing Nemtinakht’s superior, Rensi.105 Even in the afterlife such bonds continued to be operative, as when Heni, son of the governor and overseer of prophets Meru of Naga edDer, implored his deceased father for aid against Seni, a d̠t of Meru represented in the tomb of the later, murdered in the presence of Heni and who appeared in Heni’s dream.106 In general, crimes reveal networks of ‘horizontal’ complicity and ‘vertical’ protection that put into contact people of different condition. Thus, a band of thieves stole some cloaks and garments from the temple of Anukis at Syene and delivered them to a craftsman, Amenrekh, residing in Deir el-Medina who ‘specialized’ in storing stolen items, on payment of a bribe to a scribe of the treasury performing the office of mayor in Elephantine.107 In another case, a boat’s captain cooperated with the scribes, the inspectors, and the cultivators of the domain of Khnum, and stole gold and five-thousand sacks of cereal from the divine domain of the god.108 Finally, a tomb robber (presumably) had a prophet (ḥ m-nt̠r) of Ptah as accomplice and used to melt gold in the house of the later.109 In other cases, the crimes reveal that complicity was expected from powerful patrons. The robbery of the royal tombs at the end of the New Kingdom provides detailed insight into the bitter rivalry opposing Paser, the mayor of the Theban East Bank, and Pawero, the mayor of the West Bank, and their respective supporters following an inspection ordered by the vizier and city-governor Khaemwase. When examination of the royal tombs proved that they remained generally intact, and that only those of many lesser persons had been plundered, Paser alleged that the robberies had also affected the Valley of the Queens.

  Cf. the excellent analysis by Gnirs, “The Language of Corruption.”   W.K. Simpson, “The Letter to the Dead from the Tomb of Meru (N 3737) at Nag‘ ed-Deir,” JEA 52 (1966): 39–52. 107   Cf. the Turin Indictment Papyrus, pTurin 1887 v° I:2–3 = Gardiner, Ramesside Administrative Documents, 78; pBM 10053 r° 7–8: P. Vernus, Affaires et scandales sous les Ramsès: La crise des valeurs dans l’Égypte du Nouvel Empire (Paris, 1993), 227, n. 45. 108   Cf. pTurin 1887 v° I:9–II:16 = Gardiner, Ramesside Administrative Documents, 79–81. 109   Cf. P. Milan RAN E 0.9.40126 + P. Milan RAN E 0.9.40128, r° col. II, x + 5 = R.J. Demarée, “Ramesside Administrative Papyri in the Civiche Raccolte Archeologiche e Numismatiche di Milano,” JEOL 42 (2010): 57, pl. I. 105 106

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Thus a second, personal inspection by the vizier followed, but when examined, the tomb seals proved to be intact and, consequently, Paser’s accusations unfounded. A mob of West Bank officials (that is to say, under the protection of Paser’s rival, Pawero), implicated in Paser’s accusations, crossed over to East Thebes and mocked him. Enraged, Paser informed them that he had fresh allegations against them and about which he intended to write to Pharaoh himself. A new court of inquiry was then set up, but, eventually, it too pronounced the charges against Pawero and his administration to be false, and a report to that effect was drawn up and filed in the vizier’s archive. What emerges from this conflict is that Paser made use of the robberies to attack his rival Pawero, but the latter replied by minimizing the extent of the plundering and by mobilizing the support of both his subordinates and his superiors, including the vizier himself. In fact, the protection dispensed by the vizier Khaemwase to his subordinate Pawero emerges clearly from the texts: tombs initially declared intact had, in fact, been plundered, a detail ‘passed over’ by the inspection led by the vizier himself; the merit of the enquiry was endorsed to Pawero, while Paser was discredited by the high dignitaries who judged the case; and the final report was stored away in the vizier’s office.110 Of course, such rivalries and instances of selective support were not an innovation of the New Kingdom at all. A letter from Elephantine dating back to the end of the third millennium barely conceals the distrust of the protagonist, Merrenakht, towards his superior, the governor and seal-bearer, Iruremetju, regarding a conflict opposing Merrenakht and another governor and seal-bearer, Sabni. Since Iruremetju and Sabni belonged to the elite of the city and their rank was higher than that of Merrenakht, the latter felt (probably not without reason) that his superior would not support him duly and that, instead, he would be ready to compromise with Sabni.111 As for the letter sent by the chief of police Mininuy to the vizier Khay in the reign of Ramesses II, he complained about having being deprived of his grain and his fields planted with vegetables and “which belong to my lord as the vizier’s share” by a   Cf. pAbbott (= pBM 10221): KRI VI 468–480. A summary of the conflict between Paser and Pawero may be found in Vernus, Affaires et scandales sous les Ramsès, 17–36; A.J. Peden, Egyptian Historical Inscriptions of the Twentieth Dynasty (Documenta Mundi, Aegyptiaca 3; Jonsered, 1994), 225. 111   P.C. Smither, “An Old Kingdom Letter Concerning the Crimes of Count Sabni,” JEA 28 (1942): 16–19. 110



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younger chief of police, Nakhtsobeki, who gave those fields to another chief of police, Monturekh, and to the high priest of Montu. While being deprived of the land formerly granted by an institution appears repeatedly in the epigraphic and papyrological record,112 the conflict discussed by Mininuy suggests that he was being replaced by a newly appointed official who felt not only that he had the right to own the goods probably devolving to his function, but that it was also wise to seek the support of colleagues and influential men, thus bribing them.113 Finally, the richly decorated tombs of some manicurists of the king in the Old Kingdom reveal an influence and wealth due more to their proximity to the sovereign than to the official functions they exerted, a situation quite similar to the case of the courtier documented in the Rylands Papyrus (cf. above). Inversely, courtiers displaying many high titles could well have held only honorific positions, as the lady and vizier Nebet of the 6th Dynasty. Conclusion The picture that emerges from the evidence discussed certainly counter‑ balances the prevailing image of ancient Egypt as a rigidly bureaucratic, but in the end (almost) ‘perfectly’ structured and all-encompassing monarchy, organized along criteria that should stand the comparison with modern states: efficiency, clearly delimited spheres of administrative competence, availability and rational use of administrative information when required, well-defined hierarchies of authorities, easy implementation of governmental decisions . . . and occasional corruption. Certainly archives were used and information stored, administrative departments existed, titles placed officials into an accepted framework of rank and status, and orders where passed on and put into practice. Nevertheless, as in many other pre-industrial societies, this was only part of the story. Power, authority, and influence also circulated in the margins of institutions and official channels of authority. In fact they were also exerted through networks of social and personal relations (from marriages to favorites, from reliability to co-optation), through the use of informal networks of power (like patronage or   Cf. above, note 92.   KRI III 41–43; E. Wente, Letters from Ancient Egypt, 46 [48].

112 113

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local potentates), and also through the mobilization of immaterial resources like prestige, charisma, and religion. ­Furthermore, institutions themselves could evolve over time and be tempted to follow their own increasingly autonomous interests as an institution, not those for which they were initially intended, and to enter into competition with other institutions and spheres of power, the main actors being the palace, the army, the temples, specific services and departments within the administration, and so on. Distance and difficult communications, the multiplication of intermediary instances common in a mature bureaucracy (with its inevitable corollaries of slowing down decisionmaking processes, increasingly hampered circulation of authority, not to mention conflicts between departments about competence) must be also considered, as well as the multiplicity of de facto local bases of power. All these aspects further increased the difficulty for ancient states in exerting thorough control over their territories, resources, and subjects. To overcome such difficulties, central powers reacted by establishing new ways of authority implementation, personal, symbolic, and institutional, in order to cope with such potential nuclei of disruption and alternative authority and to integrate them within controllable structures in the kingdom, not excluding the use of violence and the manipulation of the ideological principles underlying the socially accepted notions of authority, prestige, and order.114 It would naturally have been impossible to deal in detail with all these elements which, in fact, underlie politics in Pharaonic Egypt, the effective use of authority and the limits in the exercise of power. Only when institutional crises erupted or when exceptional documentary evidence records conflicts, even divisions within the ruling elite, it may be possible to catch a glimpse of such phenomena, normally concealed under

114   J. Baines and N. Yoffee, “Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia,” in Archaic States, ed. G.M. Feinman and J. Marcus (Santa Fe, 1998), 199–260; J. Richards and M. van Buren, eds., Order, Legitimacy and Wealth in Ancient States (Cambridge, 2000). Cf. also N. Yoffee, Myths of the Archaic State. Evolution of the Earliest Cities, States, and Civilizations (Cambridge, 2005); J. Haldon, “The Ottoman State and the Question of State Autonomy: Comparative Perspectives,” in New Approaches to State and Peasant in Ottoman History (Library of Peasant Studies 10), ed. H. Berktay and S. Faroqhi (London, 1992), 18–108; Haldon, “Review of I.M. Diakonoff ’s, The Paths of History (Cambridge: 1999),” Historical Materialism 14/2 (2006), 169–201; P.F. Bang, “Rome and the Comparative Study of Tributary Empires,” The Medieval History Journal 6/2 (2003): 189–216.



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the rhetoric of official ideology.115 Nevertheless, by focusing instead in certain selective aspects like patronage, factions, and informal paths of circulation of influence and authority, I hope that the importance of the ‘other’ administration may cast some light on the reality, limits, and capacities of ancient Egyptian bureaucracy.

115   For a preliminary approach based on the role of the elite, see Moreno García “Introduction. Élites et États tributaires,” 11–50, and the bibliography quoted there.

INDEX Kings and Queens Aashyt  248 n. 202 Achoris  907 Adjib  32, 71, 160 Aha  26, 27, 155, 159 Ahhotep  272, 579 Ahmes Nefertary  283, 291, 579 Ahmose  322, 410, 436, 441, 475, 554, 558, 562, 566, 578, 579–582, 585, 617–618, 668 n. 102, 676 n. 155, 719, 764, 897, 939 Aja Meneferre  225 Akanosh  961 Akhenaton  408, 413, 594, 596–601, 602, 604, 622, 623–644, 662, 825, 839, 854, 897, 915, 918, 919, 920, 1039 Alexander  273, 908 Amasis  904, 905, 965, 971–973, 980, 985, 986, 988, 993–995, 997–1002, 1008, 1016, 1021, 1025, 1026, 1027, 1058 Amenemhat I  5, 221, 375 n. 93, 385, 388, 423, 427–429, 430, 433, 797, 801, 1039 Amenemhat II  222, 231, 248, 255, 345, 352 n. 29, 379, 390, 474, 489 n. 55, 617, 707 n. 302, 803 n. 82 and 83, 804 Amenemhat III  231, 250, 483 Amenhotep I  272, 410, 554 n. 100, 558, 563, 577, 580, 581, 719, 931 Amenhotep II  307, 324, 260, 280, 286, 299, 322, 403, 405, 411, 585, 586–589, 593, 619 n. 44, 620, 622, 634, 643, 644 n. 22, 645 n. 25, 654 n. 60, 655, 669 n. 129, 677, 680, 681, 710, 728, 731, 819, 820, 828 n. 188, 917, 924, 936, 941, 947 Amenhotep III  278, 301, 305, 307, 319, 332, 333, 522, 571, 573 n. 152, 592–596, 598, ­615, 619 n. 40, 620 n. 50, 621–622, 626, 631, 668, 669 n. 179, 679, 684 n. 193, 702, 764, 825, 828, 835 n. 9, 836–838, 856, 865 n. 98, 915, 918, 919, 927, 931 n. 64, 933, 936, 938, 941, 1040 Amenmesse  634 Antef II  219, 442

Antef V  268, 289, 318, 434–435, 552, 558, 563, 564, 869 n. 110, 1057 n. 95 Apophis  536 n. 40, 833 Apries  277, 286, 291, 319, 332, 903, 965, 978, 980, 986, 987, 994–995, 1003–1005, 1016–1017, 1026 Artaxerxes I  906 Assurbanipal  960 Ay  287, 306, 316, 319, 407, 422, 601, 606, 646, 839 n. 24, 840 n. 25, 937 Bakenranef  958 Bebiankh  551, 559 n. 113 Berenike  908 Cambyses  905, 965, 978, 1004 Cresus  985 Darius I  905, 906, 907, 972, 983, 1001, 1010, 1052, 1057 Darius II  1018 Den  22, 25, 26, 28, 29, 31, 33 n. 97, 37, 71, 76, 159, 160 Djedefre  72, 464 Djedkare Isesi cf. Isesi Djehuty  549, 550, 551 Djer  27, 28, 30, 37, 160 Djeser  21, 27, 28, 30, 34, 80, 87–88, 90, 91, 97, 179 n. 8, 334, 954, 1048 Djet  28, 29, 30, 53, 162 Esarhaddon  960 Gemenefkhonsubak  960 Gyges  984 Hatshepsut  272 n. 61, 300, 305, 311 n. 220, 318, 404, 407, 411, 522, 571, 581, 582–583, 585, 591, 593, 595, 597, 618, 619, 634 n. 95, 678, 730, 738, 764, 785 n. 4, 810 n. 118, 851, 913, 924, 946, 947 Horemheb  260, 267, 269, 270, 277, 279, 298, 300, 302, 307, 315, 327, 407, 408, 422, 601–606, 624, 646, 653 n. 56, 659, 660–662, 664, 665, 669, 670

1068

index

n. 132, 673 n. 143, 689, 707 n. 302, 712 n. 319, 756, 840 n. 24 and 25, 851, 856, 858 n. 75 and 76, 860, 871 n. 115, 880, 892 n. 161, 897, 918 Huni  90 n. 8 Ihynofret Neferhotep  565 Iput (queen)  123 n. 116, 301, 1035 n. 15 Iry-Hor  25, 26 Isesi  113, 114, 117, 119, 171, 179 n. 6, 194, 464 Isetnofret  931 Izi  292 Iuput  957, 960 Josiah  988 Kamose  130 n. 142, 286, 320, 432, 433, 436, 440, 443, 444, 475, 552, 554, 566, 569, 650 n. 44, 834, 924 Kashta  956, 958 Katimala  903 Kawit  248 n. 202 Khafre  100, 118, 179 n. 8, 180 n. 11 Khaneferre Sobekhotep  286, 308, 322 Khasekhemwy  33, 77, 80, 90, 160 Khayan  533, 536 n. 40 Khentkaus I  194 Khentkaus II  184 n. 30, 185 Khety  128 Khufu  72, 99, 105, 165, 168, 464 Mehetepre Ini  551 Meneferre Ay  549, 550, 551, 558 Menes  155 Menkauhor  113, 179 n. 7, 194 Menkaure  105, 107, 168, 180 n. 11, 181, 194 Merdjefare  533 Merenptah  414, 415, 417, 419, 471, 634, 657, 658, 667 n. 120, 686, 689, 740, 741, 855, 894 n. 166, 947, 950 Merenre  56, 133, 172, 788 Meretneith  31, 64 Merhotepre Ini  558 Merykare  310, 440–442 Montuhotep II  217, 221, 228, 238, 303, 323, 384, 386–387, 443–445, 447, 456, 477, 617, 785 n. 2 and 4, 790–797, 799, 813, 829 Montuhotep III  94 n. 22, 417 Montuhotep IV  231

Montuhotep (queen)  549 Mutemwiya  949 Nabuchodonosor cf. Nebuchadnezzar Nah-ke  960 Narmer  26, 27, 32 Nebiryrau  547, 549, 550, 555, 559 n. 111 Nebka  69, 72 Nebuchadnezzar II  986 Nectanebo I  267, 286, 289, 295, 297, 298, 301, 305, 308, 319, 323, 333, 908, 909, 973 Nectanebo II  907–908 Nedjeftet  123 n. 116 Neferhotep  224, 242, 266, 279, 287, 302, 303, 375 n. 93, 551, 558 Neferirkare  44, 52 n. 45, 57, 61, 107, 108, 109, 110, 112, 120, 168, 169, 171, 179 n. 8, 184–195, 291, 327, 1045 Neferkasokar  334 Neferkauhor  173, 291 Nefertiti  597, 599 Nekau I  967, 975 Nekau II  971, 974, 984–985, 990, 1016–1017, 1026 Nen  248 n. 202 Netjerykhet  cf. Djeser Nimaathapi  38 Nimlot  957, 959 Ninetjer  30 n. 76, 34 Niuserre  118, 133, 155, 166, 168, 171, 174, 179 n. 8 Nubkhaes (queen)  235 n. 111 Nubkhas  551 Osorkon I  269, 283 Osorkon II  301, 305 n. 207, 332, 903, 954, 959 Osorkon III  954, 956, 959, 960, 963 Osorkon “IV”  957, 960 Patjeny  559 Pedubast  960 Peftjauawybast  957 Pepy I  54, 58 n. 80–81, 122, 137, 140, 146, 172, 179, 182 n. 21, 200, 201, 202 n. 19, 301, 448, 464, 1034, 1039, 1041 Pepy II  7, 56, 133, 134, 138 n. 178 and 180, 172, 173, 179, 201, 202 n. 22, 217, 268, 332, 989 Peribsen  29, 33 Piankhi  260, 278



index

Piye  903, 918 n. 22, 955, 957–959, 960–961, 962, 975, 978, 1040 Psamtik I  273, 288, 308, 903, 958, 961–962, 967, 968, 970–971, 973, 975–978, 980–989, 997–1001, 1003–1005, 1010, 1018, 1026 Psamtik II  288, 313, 974, 978–981, 983–985, 987, 993–994, 997, 1001, 1005, 1008, 1016, 1026 Psamtik III  965 Psamtik V  967 Ptolemy I  908 Ptolemy III  908, 909 Ptolemy IV  909 Ptolemy V  261 Putubishti  cf. Pedubast Qa’a  22, 30, 32, 787 n. 9 Rahotep  286, 559, 565 Ramesses I  268, 307, 407, 605, 646, 840 n. 24 Ramesses II  294, 300, 317, 320, 365, 394, 399, 407, 413–414, 415, 419, 456, 606, 611, 614, 624, 625, 634, 646, 656–657, 658, 667, 678 n. 163, 680 n. 170, 683 n. 184, 685 n. 194 and 196, 690, 692, 706, 709, 711, 712–713, 741, 754, 762, 765, 766, 774, 821 n. 162, 823, 837 n. 13, 839, 845 n. 43, 854, 857, 880, 894 n. 166, 897, 915, 922, 931, 932 n. 69, 940, 942, 947, 1038, 1047, 1062 Ramesses III  5, 10, 283, 286, 287, 289, 297, 298, 300, 302, 303, 317, 325, 328, 396, 414, 415, 418, 420, 471, 607, 608, 615, 616, 625, 628, 629, 633, 634, 636, 651, 661, 662 n. 98, 694, 704, 716, 726, 727, 744, 750, 755–756, 760–762, 766, 771, 774, 782, 839, 840 n. 25, 841 n. 31, 844, 845, 850, 851, 856, 857, 858 n. 72, 867 n. 104, 875 n. 123, 880 n. 133, 889–890, 891–893, 894 n. 166, 895, 932 n. 71, 936, 940, 942, 952, 955, 1032 n. 7, 1039–1040, 1041 Ramesses IV  330 n. 302, 628, 703, 754, 774, 850, 857, 871 Ramesses V  608, 629, 724, 738, 746, 753–754, 762, 766, 774, 777, 782, 880 n. 123, 897 Ramesses VI  633, 682, 684 n. 193, 871, 937 Ramesses IX  290, 293, 421, 632, 633, 953

1069

Ramesses X  633, 953 Ramesses XI  292, 634, 647, 757 n. 149, 951–953 Reneb  32 Reneferef  44, 49, 107, 112, 179 n. 8, 182, 184–195, 340, 1045 Rudamun  959 Sahure  114 n. 93, 165, 168, 179 n. 7, 180 n. 10, 194, 461, 464, 470–471 Sanakht  31, 33, 69 Sargon II  955 “Scorpion”  21 n. 11, 160 Sekhemib  33, 34, 80 Sekhemkhet  32, 33 Sekhemre-shedtawy Sobekemsaf  553, 563, 564, 565, 570 n. 147 Sekhen/Ka  26 Semerkhet  36 Senusret I  221–222, 227, 231, 250, 289, 294, 343, 355, 386, 388, 423, 489 n. 55, 500, 743, 758, 791, 798, 800, 801, 814, 875 n. 124 Senusret II  222, 345, 379, 427 Senusret III  208 n. 42, 216, 251, 261, 282, 286, 295, 298 n. 180, 357, 369 n. 76, 378 n. 108, 379, 390, 424, 427, 505, 559 n. 111, 617, 723 n. 17 “Serpent”  cf. Djet Sethnakht  408, 839 n. 19, 840 n. 24 and 25, 846, 851 Sety I  268, 269, 283, 285, 287, 293, 296, 302, 307, 308, 316, 321, 322, 325–326, 328, 329, 331, 413, 414, 471, 646, 653, 655, 665, 671, 685, 686 n. 200, 703, 705, 712, 821, 839, 843 n. 39, 844, 878 n. 119, 887 n. 148, 915, 918 n. 22, 922, 939, 940 Sety II  298, 304, 307, 326, 634, 1060 Sewahenre Senebmiu  553 Shabaqo  955, 959, 960, 962 Shebitqo  955, 959, 961, 962 Shepseskaf  179 n. 7 Sheshonq I  273, 289, 295 n. 172, 306, 317, 323, 330, 960, 962 Siptah  3, 684 n. 193, 851, 927, 936 Snofru  54, 58 n. 80, 72, 95–96, 98, 100, 104, 163, 165, 167, 179 n. 7, 193, 194 n. 89, 464, 797 n. 56, 1047 Sobekemsaf II  434 Sobekhotep II  817 Sobekhotep III  256 Sobekhotep IV  224, 617 Sobekhotep VIII  278 n. 82

1070

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Taharqa  288, 297 n. 178, 320, 470, 903, 919, 958, 959, 960, 962, 967, 978, 1024 Takelot II  273, 954 Takelot III  954, 962, 963, 959 Tanwetamani  958, 959, 962, 967 Tefnakht  285, 299, 957–960 Teti  5, 87 n. 2, 122, 137, 140, 172, 174, 179 n. 7, 1034–1035, 1039 Thutemhat  959 Thutmose I  268, 289, 295, 302, 318, 319, 320, 367 n. 71, 403, 404, 410, 411, 550, 569, 577, 581, 618, 619, 621, 642, 676 n. 155, 719, 738, 824, 839 n. 24, 840 n. 25, 913, 931, 947 Thutmose II  522, 578, 581, 583, 913, 946, 947 Thutmose III  268, 269, 270 n. 51, 276, 277, 280, 284, 286, 287, 298 n. 180, 300, 301, 302, 319, 321, 322, 322 n. 274, 365, 368, 404, 405, 410, 411–413, 414, 430, 443, 571, 583–586, 588, 589, 593, 607, 613, 618, 619 n. 40 and 42, 621–622, 631, 634, 643 n. 21, 645 n. 25, 648, 652, 654, 669 n. 129,

670, 678, 682 n. 178, 686, 688, 695, 697, 700 n. 264, 701, 709 n. 310, 728, 730, 808 n. 102, 819, 824, 828 n. 188, 856, 913, 917, 924, 927, 935, 939, 941, 946, 947, 948, 950 Thutmose IV  299, 319, 330, 399, 477, 589–591, 594–596, 622, 643 n. 21, 669 n. 179, 680, 741, 917, 919, 924, 926, 948 Tiye  592 n. 214, 597, 599, 930, 1040 Tutankhamun  315, 316, 323, 597, 600, 601–604, 605, 624, 663–664, 680 n. 170, 681 n. 173, 825–828, 915, 919, 926, 941, 946, 949 Unas  119, 172, 179 n. 7, 461 Userkaf  113, 167, 179 n. 7, 182 n. 19 Userkare  1034 Wahibre Ibia  549 Weni  151 n. 241 Wepwawetemsaf  559 Yaqubher  536

Divinities Amun  258, 291, 293, 298, 308, 323, 324, 334, 338, 339, 435, 547, 577–579, 584, 591, 592, 595, 599, 614, 615, 617, 618–619, 621, 623, 624, 625–627, 629, 636, 729, 730, 747, 758, 764, 766–767, 774, 779–780, 823, 836, 869, 889, 890, 902, 903, 906, 907 n. 42, 908, 917–918, 921, 922, 931 n. 64, 932–933, 940, 956, 961, 968, 983–984, 999, 1001, 1010, 1018, 1020, 1023, 1024, 1026, 1058, 1060 Amun-Min  268 Amun-Re  227, 607, 625, 628, 629, 631, 660 n. 92, 761, 765, 766, 774, 781, 836, 838 n. 15, 841 n. 29, 845, 840 Amun-Re-Ptah  840 Amun-Re-Sonther  338, 982, 1010 Amun (of ) Taudjoy  273, 299, 308 Anubis  562, 564 Anukis  1061 Apis  959, 1017 Arsaphes  273, 323 Ash  29 Aten  596, 601, 602, 605, 623, 898, 941 Atum  615, 838 n. 16

Atum-Re  227 Banebded  1016 Bastet  942 n. 105 Bes  841 n. 30 Ernutet  730 Geb  281, 336–337 Hathor  107, 109, 201, 623, 1047, 1057 n. 94 Heryshef  770, 773 Hor-Aten  623 Hor-Min  770 Horus  29, 281, 336, 838, 858 n. 73, 937, 940, 976, 978, 1016 Horus of Tjehenu  103 n. 55 Hor-wer  587 n. 193, 930 n. 61 Isis  770, 940, 976 Khenty-Imentyw  1015, 1059 Khepi  837 Khepri  cf. Khepi Khnum  334, 563, 565, 623, 930 n. 61, 940, 954, 955, 1004, 1008, 1058



index

1071

Khonsu  298, 562, 564, 616, 631, 767, 845

779–780, 841, 887, 891 n. 160, 892 n. 162, 996, 1061

Maat  156, 230, 841–842 Min  126, 138, 301, 555, 558, 562, 563–564, 565, 623 Mnevis  319 Montu  562, 603, 623, 624, 764, 767, 773 Mut  298, 616, 759, 767, 769, 774, 845, 897, 960 n. 152

Re  123, 337, 340, 395, 614, 616, 623, 625, 747, 762, 766–767, 769, 779–780, 836–837, 840, 841 n. 29, 846, 847, 850, 876, 887, 976 Re-Horakhty  623, 644 n. 22, 774, 837

Nebet-hetepet  954 Nebkheperrure  933, 942 Neith  285, 299, 323, 967, 974 Nekhbet  930 n. 61, 931, 932 Nun  337 Onuris  562, 603 Onuris-Shu  976 Osiris  144, 227, 242, 293, 300, 337, 339, 398, 559, 562, 563, 565, 614, 623, 625, 838, 906, 960 n. 152, 976, 1016, 1021, 1022, 1038 Osiris-Apis  1048 Ptah  258, 321, 427, 605, 608, 614, 615, 616, 617 n. 32, 625, 644, 656, 666, 674, 747, 764, 766–767, 769, 777,

Satet 90 n. 8, 367 n. 71, 570 n. 147, 954, 999 Seth  902, 985 Shadetet  987 Sheshat  470 Sobek  258, 562, 564, 655 n. 66, 930 n. 61 Sobek-Re  770, 773, 774, 983 Sokar  644 Sopdu  34 Thot  260 n. 7, 280, 340, 673 n. 143, 838 n. 16, 876, 906, 918 n. 23, 1017 Vishnu  841 n. 30 Wepwawet  934 n. 85 Yaho  1004

Individuals Aa-Akhty  21, 116 Aam  530, 533 n. 26, 534 Aamu  528, 534, 553 Aapehty  634 n. 95 Abasch  530 Abed  530 Abihu (Dendera)  145, 148 Achtuan  530, 534 Ahanakhte I (Bersheh)  143 n. 202, 221, 351, 359 n. 47, 387–388 Ahmose Aametu  577, 583 Ahmose Humay  587, 588 Ahmose Pennekheb  569, 581–582 Ahmose Satayit  577, 579, 931 Ahmose son of Ebana  433, 434–435, 437, 476, 569, 581–582, 649 n. 40, 719–721, 726, 735–736, 737, 738, 899 n. 177 Ahmose Tjuro  554 n. 100, 577, 579, 676 n. 155, 931–932, 937, 943 Ahmosesaneith  973

Aipy son of Nayebo  927 Akanosh  975–977 Akhethotep  119, 123 n. 117, 191 n. 68 Amasis  993, 994, 1005 Amatju  932 Amenaa  530 Amenemhab  933, 934 Amenemhat  619, 643 n. 21 Amenemhat (vizier)  231 Amenemhat (Beni Hasan)  cf. Imeny Amenemhat (Thebes)  550 n. 82 Amenemheb  664, 669 n. 129, 670 Amenemheb Mahu  585, 589 Amenemhotep  587, 588, 589 Ameneminet  603, 605, 606 Amenemnekhu/Inebny  682 n. 178 Amenemone  931 Amenemope  597, 680 n. 170 Amenemopet  728, 922, 933, 937, 941, 942 Amenherkhopshef II  cf. Ramesses VI

1072

index

Amenhotep  583, 585, 590, 608, 614, 615, 625, 626, 632, 631 n. 86, 633, 645 Amenhotep Huy  594, 597, 598, 602, 603, 605, 682, 711, 764, 912, 929–930, 932, 937, 939, 941 Amenhotep Si-se  590 Amenhotep son of Hapu  278, 307, 328, 333, 592–593, 668–669, 858 n. 76, 1023 Amenhotep son of Heby  679 Amenirdis  956, 961, 978 Amenmose  585, 698, 700 Amenmose son of Pauia  890 Amennakht  936 Amenwosre  728 Amenyseneb  240, 241 n. 143 Amka  28 n. 55 Amtu  622 n. 57 Anhurmose  894 n. 166 Anhurnakhte  912 n. 8, 931, 934 n. 82, 942 Ankhor  1048 Ankhkhufu  100, 106, 111, 113 Ankhmanetjer  191 n. 68 Ankhnesneferibre  978 Ankh-Osorkon  954 Ankhtifi (Moʿalla)  64 n. 109, 66, 136–137, 145 n. 209, 148, 149, 173, 364, 446–447, 451–452 Ankhu  250 n. 214, 293 Ankhudjes  140 Antef (Thebes)  137, 386, 500, 809 n.107 Antef (Thinis)  818 n. 146 Antefoker  743 Antu  634 Aperbaal  528, 533 Aper-el  597, 598 Apophis  526, 538 Arsama  998 Athiyavahya  905 Atju  527 Ay  599 Aya  550, 551, 555, 557–558 Babaf  165 Bakenkhonsu  634, 864 n. 97, 894 n. 166, 921, 922–923 Bakenptah  700–701 Bawy (El-Hawawish)  133 Bay  3, 851, 936 Beb (Abydos)  798 n. 60 Bebi  561 n. 120, 568, 1048 Bebi (Thebes)  387

Bekenset  942 n. 108 Benermerut  730 “Binemwaset”  684 n. 192, 942 Buau  248 n. 198 Chasheshonq  982 Dagi (Thebes)  253, 387 Debeheni  314 Dedi  585, 819 Dediku  798 Dedu  530 Dedument Senebtyfy  257 Dedusobek  257, 803–804 Demedj  113, 114 Dhutmose  763, 929, 937, 941 Djaf  530 Djari  220 Djaty  143 n. 200 Djau (Abydos)  134, 138 n. 178, 146 Djedptahiufankh  968–971, 987, 988 n. 86, 989 Djehutihotep (Bersheh)  359 n. 47, 362 n. 53 Djehutimose  670, 694, 700 n. 264, Djehuty  554, 563, 578, 583, 696 n. 250, 697, 700, 810, 118 Djekhy  1021, 1026 Djemi  790, 795 n. 45 Duaenra  165 Duahor (Bersheh)  359 n. 47 Duamin  171 Duare  116, 117 Duawyerneheh  583 Emheb  569 Fetekta  116, 117 Hapidjefa (Siut)  353, 490–491, 727, 736, 758, 893 n. 165 Hapuseneb  583, 584, 619 Hapy  668 n. 125 Har  528, 532 n. 24, 533 Harsiese  999, 1003, 1058 Harsiese son of Ramose (literary character)  969, 970 Hatiay  655 n. 66, 935 Hatiay/Raia  598 n. 238 Hatnakht  954 Hatshepsut  930 n. 61 Haya/Huy  701 Heby  594 Hekemsaf  997



index

Hemaka  29, 160 Hemwer  108, 109 Henababa  1043 Henenu  131, 148, 248 n. 198, 250, 795 Heni  1061 Henqu (Deir el-Gebrawy)  142 n. 196 Hentowe  930 n. 61 Henu  219 n. 23 Henuzau  1044 Heny  219 Hepu  728, 807 Heqaemsasen  949 Heqanakht  820 n. 156 Heqanakhte  343, 355, 517 n. 179, 519, 721, 727, 736, 737, 755, 1043 Heqanefer  828, 947, 948, 950 Heqareshu  949 Heqaroneheh  949 Her  591 Herihor  635, 636, 647, 651 n. 49, 952–953 Herkhuf  56, 127, 128, 129, 468–469 Herunefer  423 n. 58, 568, 1043 Hesi (Saqqara)  105, 1029 Hetep (Moʿalla)  136, 173 Hetepi (Elkab) 145 n. 209, 148 Hetepib  193 Hetepni  149 Hetepu  236 Heteri  657 n. 78 Hor  250, 527, 792 n. 31, 908, 1001, 1020 Hor (Thinis)  818 n. 149 Hor/Psamtik  990, 992 Horbes  1048 Horemakhet  962 Horemheb  589, 591 Horemkhauf (Hierakonpolis)  560 Horhotep  256 Hori  336, 517, 537 n. 43, 603, 927, 933 n. 79, 934, 936 Horkhebi  962, 1001 Hormakhoru  999 Hornakht  683 Hornefer  938 Horudja  983, 1001, 1003 Humay  587 n. 195 Huy  399, 409, 603, 678 n. 163, 680 n. 170, 681 n. 171, 682–683, 692–693, 711, 825 n. 178 and 180, 865 n. 99, 915, 917–918, 923, 926–927, 932–933, 935–938, 942, 946–947 Huya  930

1073

Iaa  988 Iahnefer  552 Iaib (Hatnub)  107, 112, 114–115 Iam  529 Iamunedjeh  586 Ibenen  218 Ibi (Deir el-Gebrawy)  127, 142 n. 196 Ibiau  241 n. 143, 549 Idi  146 Idi (Coptos)  139, 173 Iha  190 n. 68, 237 Iha (Bersheh)  221, 387 Ihykent (Balat)  213 Ikhernofret  311, 318 Ikhuir  528, 533 Ili-Milku  526, 538 Imeny  565, 568 Imeny (Beni Hasan)  131, 143, 388, 423 n. 61, 499 Imeny (Wadi Hammamat)  179 n. 5 Imenysoneb  274 Imhotep (New Kingdom vizier)  550 Impy  146 In  529 Inebni-Amenemnekhu  678 Ineni  577, 579, 583, 585 n. 185, 618, 619 Inihotep  1044 Iniuia  604 Intef  695 Intef Dedu  231 Intefiqer  231 Intef(?)nakht  680 n. 170 Inkaf (Tehna)  115 Inpy  254 Iny  133, 135 Ipay  604 Ipi  216 Ipi (Abusir)  184 n. 32 Ipqu  526, 538 n. 49 Ipu  634 Ipy  594, 597, 598, 603 Iruremetju  1062 Irutnetjeru  1056 Ishti-Tjeti  125, 132 Isi (Edfu)  133, 142 n. 196 Isi (Saqqara)  97, 102, 106, 108 Isiankh (Abusir)  184 n. 32 Isisnofret  656 n. 72, 658 Istamar-Haddu  529 Isyra  657 n. 78 It-ib (Siut)  386, 439 It-ib-iqer (Siut)  385 n. 134, 450

1074

index

Itji (Saqqara)  109 Iturodj  1021, 1026 Itysen  1046 Iufy (Hemmamiya)  118 Iupa  712–713 Iuput  976 Iut (Naqada)  788 n. 16 Iy  527 Iykhernofert  254 Iymeru  231, 235 n. 111, 250 n. 214 Iymeru (Elkab)  550, 557 Iymery (Abusir)  118 Iymery (Gebel el-Teir)  105, 168 Iymery (El-Hawawish)  137 Jedeniah  1004 Kaaper (Abusir)  114, 462, 465 Kaemheribsen  587 n. 195 Kagemni  62, 132, 174 Kai  118, 174 Kaiemnefret (Hagarsa)  114 Kaiemsenu  72 Kaikhent (Hemmamiya)  114, 118 Kames (Abydos)  559 Kanefer  174 Kaninisut  190 n. 68 Kapuptah  118, 119 Karabasken/Kelbasken  962 Kares  579 n. 171 Kaudjankh (Deshasha)  116 Kay  797–798, 812 n. 126 Kayrau  1025 Kebesi  434 Kema  527, 936 Kenamun  594 Keref  987 Kha  942 Khabawbat  105 Khabawsokar  39 n. 142 Khaemhat  592 n. 214, 593, 596 n. 226 Khaemope  895 Khaemwaset  317, 606, 656 n. 72, 657, 658, 677 n. 159, 680 n. 170, 857, 941–942, 1061–1062 Khaliut  955 Khamaat  165 Khashepsut  434 Khay  684, 880, 949, 1062 Khemenu  229 Khentika (Balat)  206, 213 Khentika Ikhekhi  174 Khentykawpepy (Balat)  140 n. 189, 142 n. 196, 199 n. 7

Khenu (Abusir)  184 Kheperkare  249 Kheruef  592 n. 214, 593, 596 n. 226, 597 Khety  231 Khety (Aswan)  792 n. 34, 794 n. 41, 795 n. 42 Khety (Beni Hasan)  389 Khety (Shat er-Rigal)  794 Khety I (Siut)  438–439, 722 Khety II (Siut)  143 n. 202, 310, 385 n. 134, 386, 440, 442 Khetyankh (Heliopolis)  376 n. 102 Khnumenti  169 Khnumhotep I (Beni Hasan)  377, 378 n. 107, 388 Khnumhotep II (Beni Hasan)  112, 144, 310, 351, 376 n. 100, 377–378, 389, 516 n. 177, 812 n. 127, 1038 Khnumhotep III (Beni Hasan)  378 n. 108, 429 Khnumhotep (Saqqara)  1044 Khnumibre  905 Khons  254 Khonsirau  1020 Khonsu (princess)  551 Khonsumes  553 n. 94 Khui  134, 146 Khui (Abydos)  172 Khunes (Zawiyet el-Mayetin)  108, 111 Khuninpu  222 Khusobek  427, 433, 434 Khuwinefer (Abusir)  184 Mahu  597 n. 230, 601, 662 n. 101 Maia  600 Maienheqau  648 n. 37 Maiherpri  948 Maya  315, 323, 594, 600, 601, 602, 603, 604, 606, 623 Medunefer (Balat)  212 Megegi  802 n. 78 Mehu  132, 1035–1036 Meketre  241 n. 149, 243 Menka  32 Menkheper  584, 593 Menkheperre  820 n. 159, 829, 901–902, 1058 Menkheperresoneb  584 Menna  741–744 Merer  139, 349 Merer (Gebel Tjauti)  811 Mereri  797 n. 57 Mererteti (Aswan)  792 n. 34



index

Mereruka  174 Merka  33 Merrenakht  1062 Meru  1061 Meru-Bebi (Sheikh Said)  130 Mery  587, 588, 589, 619, 622, 683 n. 183, 798 Merybast  633, 894 n. 166 Merymaat  634 n. 95 Merymose  592, 597 n. 232, 828, 912 n. 8, 927, 933, 937, 938 Meryneith  599 n. 238, 600, 602 Meryptah  594, 622, 623n. 62 Meryre  590, 591, 602, 662 n. 101 Meryre  (literary character)  970 Mesehti (Siut)  385 n. 134, 455 Messuy  934 Mesu  707 n. 302 Metjen  33, 38, 96–97, 102, 103, 105, 106, 108, 110, 117, 170, 362 n. 54, 725 n. 26, 1048 Min  590, 593 Min (Thinis)  818 n. 146 Minankh  171 Minemhat (Coptos)  558, 560 Minhotep  537 n. 43 Mininuy  1062–1063 Minmonth  578 Minmonth Senires  563 Minmose  586, 643 n. 21, 697, 730, 1038 Minnakht  583, 584, 593, 931, 942 Monthaa  236 Montuemhat  961, 962–963, 977, 979, 1003 Montuhotep  216, 230, 246, 961 Montuhotep (vizier)  311 Montuhotep (Bahariya)  799 Montuhotep (Bersheh)  351 Montuiywy  586 Monturekh  1063 Mose  10, 722 n. 9, 737, 861, 880, 881, 897, 1053 Msaef  568 Mutnofret  931, 932–933 Nahman  530 Nahuher  604 Nakht  568 Nakht (Abydos)  553 Nakht (Beni Hasan)  377, 378 n. 107, 389 Nakhthorheb  1005 Nakhtmin  407, 604, 685 n. 196, 946

1075

Nakht(paten)  599 Nakhtsobeki  1063 Nakhtzas (Farafra)  113, 796 n. 51 Namart  273 Nebamun  283, 310, 589, 649 n. 38, 652, 708, 1038 Nebankh  242, 250 Nebet (Abydos)  172, 1063 Nebkauhor  166 Nebmaatranakht  684 n. 193 Nebnefer  620 n. 50 Nebnetjerew  526 Nebsun  235 n. 111 Nebumerut  527 Nebwenenef  611, 634 Nedjem  655 n. 67, 1060 Nedjesankhuiu  434 Neferabet  759 Neferbawptah  68 Neferu (Thebes)  139 Nehi  912 n.8 Neferbauptah  168 Neferhor  927, 936 Neferhotep  563, 605, 634 n. 95 Neferi  241 n. 149, 243 Neferibrenefer  974 Nefermaat  115 Neferrenpet  645 n. 26 Neferseshemre  64 Nefershuba (Mendes)  132, 146 Nehesi (Nubian)  529 Nehesy  526, 538 n. 49 Nehi  527, 828 n. 188, 927, 928, 932 Nehri II (Hatnub)  386, 388 Nehysenebi  246 Neitiqert  cf. Nitocris Nekhebu  134, 169 Nenkhefetka (Deshasha)  115 Nenwenhirmentes  930 Nesamun  633 Neshi  552, 737, 897, 899 n. 177 Neshor  987, 994, 1003–1005, 1016 Nesipeqashuty  963, 999 Nesishutefnut  962 Nesmonth-Seneb  257 Nesnaisut  977–978, 1005 Nespakachuty  979 Nesutnefer  97, 101, 103, 105, 112, 115 Nesykhonsu  338, 954 Netjeraperef  97, 105, 145 n. 211, 170 Netjeruimes  711 n. 319 Niankhkhnum  52 n. 50, 1044 Niankhnemty (Bersheh)  107, 114–115 Niankhpepy (Zawiyet el-Mayetin)  132

1076

index

Niankhre (Abusir)  184, 191 Nikaankh (Tehna)  105, 107, 109, 111, 113, 114, 118 Nikare  118 n. 106 Nikaure  105, 118 Nitocris  342, 962, 978, 982, 1026 Onnefer  278 Onurisnakht  145, 148, 680 n. 170 Osorkon (high priest)  272, 300, 326, 331, 332, 1040, 1058 Paakhraef  983, 997 Paatenemhab  601 Padiamenope  980 Padihorresnet  979–980 Padineshmet  1017 Padisematawy  993, 994 Pahery  581, 720 n. 4, 721, 738–740 Paiankh  634, 636, 952–953 Pamiu  954 Panehesy  292, 600, 634, 636, 647, 651 n. 49, 645 n. 26, 662, 952–953 Paramesses/Paramessu  cf. Ramesses I Parennefer  578, 597, 598, 606, 818 n. 148 Parennefer/Wennefer  603, 604, 606, 634, 1038 Parnu  981 Paser  590, 603, 604, 606, 634, 711, 929, 930, 933, 935, 936, 942, 1047, 1061–1062 Pasherienptah  1048 Patjenfy  961 Paun  988 Pawero  1061–1062 Pay  604, 605 Paynedjem  338 Peden  989, 992 Pediamennebnesuttawy  962, 963 Pediamenope  1025 Peftaukhons  1000 Pefteuawyimen  996 Peftuaneith  972–973, 1007–1008, 1015 Pehernefer  21, 28, 33, 73, 96, 102, 106, 110, 170 Peibakkamen  1040 Peniaty  578 Pennesuttawy  912 n. 8, 931, 934 n. 82, 942 Penniut  682, 683, 825 n. 180, 923, 937–940, 1038 Penpato  628 Penre  685 n. 194, 709 n. 309

Pentawere  661, 740, 1040 Penwepwawet  942 n. 108 Pepyankh “the middle” (Meir) 131–132 Pepynakht-Heqaib  721 n. 7 Peremhesut  528 Pernedju  68 Pesesh  248 n. 202 Peteise/Peteisis  332, 333, 973, 982–984, 1001, 1010–1015, 1022 Peteshahdedet  987 Peteti  1046 Piankh  3, 647, 651 n. 49 Pinedjem  635, 901 n. 2, 954 Pmui II  976 Polycrates  995 Potasimto  cf. Padisematawy Prehotep  1038 Psammetichus  994 Psamtikmeriptah  998 Psamtikseneb  972 Ptahaa  1048 Ptahemmenu  657 n. 78 Ptahhotep  62 n. 101 Ptahmose  590, 594, 595 n. 224, 619, 622, 623 n. 62 Ptahhotep II  1046 Ptahshepses  168, 165, 168 Ptahshepses II  119, 168 Ptahshepses Impy  169 Puyemre  367, 583, 584, 626, 824 Pyay  684 n. 193, 936 Qar (Edfu)  131, 140, 141, 142 n. 196, 1035–1036 Qenamun  305, 310, 313, 586, 588, 589, 654 n. 59, 699, 700, 710, 711 n. 317, 818 n. 150 Qeny  1038 Qupepen  526 Raha/Rediha  528 Rahotep  103, 312 Rai  561 n. 120 Raia/Hatiay  598 n. 238 Raia/Ramose  605 Ramessesnakht  615, 620, 631 n. 86, 632, 633–637 Ramessesuserkhepesh  694, 705 Ramose  313, 594, 597, 598, 601, 606, 645 n. 26, 657, 929, 935, 1047 Ramsesnakht  293, 657 n. 82 Rasoneb  434 Rau  584 n. 182 Redienptah  535–536



index

Redikhnum (Dendera)  148 Rediredi (?)  529 Reditenes  551 Rehuankh  242 Rekhmire  229, 365, 369 n. 76, 584, 585, 587, 622 n. 57, 645 n. 26, 652 n. 53, 728, 729–730, 732, 739, 741, 775, 849 n. 53, 851, 876, 878 n. 128, 896, 923 n. 35, 932 Reneny (Elkab)  558, 580 Reniseneb  558 Renpyf  224 Renseneb  527, 533, 551, 557 Renseneb (Elkab)  254, 391 Rer  1022 Reshepses  119 Rewer  52 n. 45, 193, 312 Roka  941 Roma-Roy  634, 823, 894 n. 166 Sabef  30 Sabni  128, 138 n. 180, 145, 311, 1045, 1062 Sabu  73 Sabuptah Ibebi  169 Sadi  528 Sahathor  529 Saiah  529 Sakeh  604 Sameryt  530 Samut  594 n. 224, 805 n. 91 Sankhptah  559, 565 Saptah  529, 530, 533 Sataimau  763–764 Satepihu  583 Sebakhau  936 Sebastet  803–806 Sebeki  365 Sehetepib (Abydos)  558 Sehetepibre  241 Sehu  238 Seket  538 n. 50 Sematawytefnakht  982, 987, 988, 1004 Semerti  529, 532 n. 25, 534 Sen/Senires  579 Senankh  529 Senbi II (Meir)  385 n. 135 Senebendjedbau  530 Seneberau  536 Senebhenaf  549, 550, 552, 555 Senebi  242, 250 n. 214 Senebi-khered  242 Senebni  553 Senebsumai  246, 250 n. 214

1077

Senedjemib  123 n. 117 Senedjemib Inti  134, 168 Senedjemib Mehi  169 Senemiah  583 Senen  253 Senenmut  276, 283, 286, 407, 422, 583, 585, 619, 730, 764 Senisoneb  584 Sennefer  587, 588, 589, 594, 619 Sennefri  584 n. 182 Senqed  599, 604 Senusret  231 Senusretsoneb  811 Senynufe  930 n. 61 Seshathotep Heti  165 Seshemnefer I  81 Seshenu  1047 Setau  400, 631 n. 86, 678 n. 163, 828 n. 185, 912, 922, 930–932, 935, 937, 941 Seth  529 Sethherkhepeshef I  661 n. 98 Setka  162 Sety  927, 933, 934, 936 Sharity  643 n. 21 Shemai (Coptos)  136, 150, 173 Shepenwepet I  956, 961 Shepenwepet II  978 Shepseskafankh  168 Shepsipuptah  1036 Shesmunakht  975, 976 Shepsi  103 Siamun  938, 949 Si-Bastet  586 Siese  216, 591, 604, 605 Simut Kyky  759, 1029 Smatawytefnakht  273, 333 Snefru  517 Sobekaa  537 n. 43, 1055 Sobekemsaef  563 Sobekhotep  561 n. 120, 593 Sobekhotep (Nubian)  527 Sobekhotep (Qubbet el-Hawa) 1043–1044 Sobekhotep (Sinai)  803 n. 83 Sobekhotep (Thebes)  590 Sobekhotep Panehesy  593 Sobekhotepsheri  529 Sobekmose  593 Sobeknakht  529 Sobeknakht (Elkab)  256, 391, 433, 434, 550, 551, 553, 557, 558, 560, 565, 566, 568, 580 Sobeknakht (Thebes)  593

1078

index

Suemniwet  586 Suty  591 Taemwadjsy  599, 680 n. 170, 932–933, 941, 942 Takuhlina  697, 701–702 Takushit  961, 977 Taohuit  657 n. 78 Tefib  785 Teti  552, 554 Tetiankh  130 Tetiemre  578–579 Tetiky  578 Tety  924 Theocles  994 Thutmose  594, 611 n. 13 Thuya  599 Tia  191 n. 76 Tiyi  1039 Tjennahebu  996, 998 Tjanni  589 Tjanuni  399, 659 Tjau  432, 434 Tjauti (Coptos)  790 n. 24 Tjauti (Qasr el-Sayed)  139 Tjebu  219 n. 25 Tjebu (Qasr el-Sayed)  139 Tjehemau  797, 808 n. 107 Tjenuna  590, 591 Tjeteti  218 n. 12 Tjeti-Kaihep (El-Hawawish)  146, 1035 Tjetji  802 n. 78 Tjetju  174, 218 n. 12 Tjuju  568 Tjuri  605 To  286, 863 n. 94 Tuau (Naga ed-Deir)  132 Turoy  367 n. 71, 678 n. 162 Tutu  600, 601 Ty  597, 599, 1044 Udjahor  1018 Udjahorresnet  972, 991, 996, 998

Udjasomtu  982, 1014 Ukhhotep (Meir)  376 n. 97 Urkhija  712–713 Useramun  583, 584, 585, 622 n. 57 Userhat  586, 670 Userhat-Hatiay  603 Userkafankh  117 Usermaatrenakht  633 n. 90 Usermonthu  603, 604 Usersatet  280, 292, 307, 314, 315, 586, 590, 678 n. 160, 681 n. 174, 682 n. 178, 930 Wa  655 n. 68 Wahibre  987, 1002, 1016 Wahibremeryptah  996 Wahka (Qaw)  389 n. 153, 1048 Wayheset  902 Webekhusen  927, 933 n. 79 Webensenu  643, 645 Websen  568 Wenhir  930 Weni  47 n. 23, 56, 119, 128, 133, 139, 140, 143, 146, 453, 463–467, 1029–1030, 1035 Wennefer  cf. Parennefer/Wennefer Wensu  739–740 Wentawat  934 Wepwapeto  425 Wepwaut-iri  559 Werdjededba  114 Yakbim  526 Yanassi  538 n. 49 Yankh  140 Yasri-Ammu  526, 538 Yulehen  997 Yuna  600 n. 245 Yuya  599 Zanofret  216 Zauib  105 Zehu  218 Zeshzeshet  1036

Toponyms Jd¡  114 W¡d̠-Ḥrw  28 Wʿrt Nḫ n  805 Wnt  114, 462 Pr-Jḫ ḫ   128 Pr-Ḫ ww  97, 151, 350, 1048 Msqt  204

Mdnjt  116 R¡-ḥ ¡t  133 R-ḥ nt  345 Ḥ wt-jḥ t  cf. Kom el-Hisn Ḥ wt-Pj-Ḥ rw-msnw  27, 28, 30, 31, 32, 38, 71 Ḥ wt-Ḥ r-st-jb-t¡wj  57



index

Ḥ wt-H̠ tjj  128 Ḥ wt-S¡-ḥ ¡-nb  30, 32 Ḥ wt-S¡-ḥ ¡-k¡  71 Ḥ rw-sḫ ntj-d̠w  28 Ḫ ¡rw  693 n. 232, 687 Ḫ ʿ-m-M¡ʿt  cf. Soleb H̠ n-Nḫ n  91, 132 Sp¡wt ḥ rjwt-jb “Middle provinces” 116, 120, 132 Sm¡-ḫ ¡swt  917, 935 Zrr  114 Sḥ tp-nt̠rw  cf. Faras Š-rsj  cf. Fayum Šʿt  cf. Sai Qdst  204 Gm-p¡-Jtn  cf. Kawa T¡-Stj  925, 927, 938, 940 Tp¡  114 Tp-rsj  cf. Head of the South Th-ḫ t  945, 947 D̠ sd̠s (Bahariya)  199, 204, 799, 985 Abisko  444, 447, 797 Abri-Delgo Reach  944, 952 Abu Ballas  210, 813, 821 Abu Ghalib  356 n. 38, 814 n. 136 Abu Rawash  159, 161, 179 n. 6 Abu Simbel  456, 683 n. 183, 684, 918 n. 23, 927, 951, 1005 Abu Ziyar  793, 799 n. 68, 809, 813, 815, 816–817, 821 Abusir  44, 49, 109, 110, 119, 120, 161, 168, 179 n. 8, 181, 182 n. 19, 183, 194 Abydos  20, 21, 24, 33, 62, 88, 90, 91, 92, 104, 107, 109, 110, 112, 118, 121, 135 n. 164, 142, 143, 144, 146, 158, 159, 160, 172, 173, 208 n. 42, 227, 228 n. 66, 230, 240, 242, 246, 267, 274, 287, 289, 293, 298, 300, 302, 303, 308, 311, 318, 319, 330 n. 302, 357, 379, 383, 524, 541 n. 59, 547, 556, 558–559, 560–563, 566–567, 600, 614, 625, 646 n. 29, 685, 699, 705, 743, 798, 834 n. 6, 907, 931, 973, 1007, 1008, 1015, 1021, 1022, 1029, 1035, 1038, 1048, 1059 Aegean  416 Aghurmi  904 Akhetaten  cf. Amarna Akhmim  120, 126, 130, 138, 148, 150, 170, 172, 351, 598–599, 604, 931, 1035, 1040; cf. also El-Hawawish Aksha  913 Alalakh  544

1079

Aleppo  544 Amada  935 Amara  915, 915, 928 n. 54, 935, 953 Amarna  6, 598, 599, 602, 662 n. 101, 894 n. 166, 898, 921, 930, 943, 1039, 1044 Amheida  904, 906 Amurru  405 Anatolia  416, 417 Aniba  464, 682, 683, 800, 828, 913, 923, 933, 934, 935, 936–937, 939, 940, 941, 946, 948, 1038 Antaeopolis  795 Aphek  692, 693, 694, 702 Arabia  990 Arika  800 Armant  446, 603, 773, 907 n. 42 Arme/Armi  951 Ashdod  694 Ashmunayn  347, 353, 380, 386, 388 Asia  394, 405, 408, 410–411, 413, 415, 418, 427–428, 430, 435, 436, 458, 472, 686–700, 943, 944, 951 Askut  426, 427 Assassif  628 Aswan  242, 302, 383, 438, 449–450, 451–452, 454, 460, 806, 827, 930 n. 61, 936, 946, 955, 968; cf. also Elephantine, Qubbet el-Hawa Assyria  207 n. 38, 961 Athribis  329 n. 297, 892 Avaris  cf. Tell el-Dabʿa Ayn Asil  197–214 Ayn Manawir  906, 907, 1018 Ayn Muftella  904 Ayn Sukhna  101, 114 Badari  353 Bahariya  199, 204, 799, 824, 902–904, 909, 985 Bahr Yusuf  345, 776 Bakhtan  322 Baki  679, 940, 946 Balat  43, 68, 80 n. 192, 197–214, 796 Ballas  435, 443, 447, 785 n. 2 and 4, 792, 795 n. 42 and 45 Bayuda  919 Beit Khallaf  90, 94 n. 22 Beni Hasan  112, 226 n. 57, 351, 353, 358, 365, 376–378, 381, 382, 385, 388–389, 391, 454, 455, 457, 458, 473 n. 160, 1038 Bentehhor  971 Beqa Valley  405

1080

index

Berber-Shendi Reach  927, 950–951 Bersheh  91, 94 n. 22, 107, 109, 112, 115, 118, 126 n. 123, 127 n. 128, 147, 221, 224, 244, 340, 353, 354, 359, 362 n. 53, 374 n. 89, 376, 383, 385, 387–388 Beth Shean  409, 413, 416, 694–695, 702, 704–705, 943 Biggeh  679 n. 167 Bir el-ʿAbd  704 Bubastis  25, 132, 137, 160, 301, 358, 359 n. 48, 379, 543 n. 66, 942 n. 105, 957, 960, 994 Buhen  100, 268, 298, 307, 409, 464, 524, 541 n. 59, 567, 581, 676 n. 155, 687 n. 207, 816, 824, 913, 923, 924, 927, 929, 932, 935, 937, 940, 941, 950, 955 Busiris  132, 975, 976–977, 1017 Buto  22, 28, 160, 273, 301, 302, 305 n. 207, 967, 982 Byblos  101, 244, 379, 404, 429, 461, 544, 696, 697 Canaan  436, 475–476, 544, 688, 704, 709, 715, 869 Carthage  907 Charchemish  544, 692, 986, 989 Chios  995, 1006 Coptos  92, 108, 120, 123 n. 117, 125, 126, 130, 138 n. 176 and 178, 139, 142, 148, 150, 172, 268, 289, 297, 434, 435, 452, 555, 558, 559, 563, 565, 568, 709, 790, 869 n. 110, 905, 909, 1035 n. 15 Crete  418 Cusae  134, 546 n. 73, 547 Cynopolis  776, 984 Cyprus  417, 431, 1027 Cyrenaica  903, 906–909 Dahshur  54, 179 n. 6, 288, 320, 379, 429, 448, 797 n. 56, 987, 1047 Dakhla  100, 197–214, 812, 813, 818, 824, 864 n. 97 Dara  147, 151, 173 Darb el-Arbain  795 Dakhleh  143, 382, 791, 795, 798, 901–902, 906, 907–908, 985 Debeira  945 Dehmit  946 Deir el-Bahri  302, 303, 453, 456, 617, 729, 764 Deir el-Balah  694, 702, 704

Deir el-Ballas  cf. Ballas Deir el-Bersheh  cf. Bersheh Deir el-Gebrawy  87, 105, 123, 127, 131, 143, 145, 150, 172, 173 Deir el-Medina  337, 819, 845, 853, 860–861, 864 n. 96, 872 n. 116, 880, 881, 887, 935, 1047, 1061 Dendera  105, 148, 150, 137, 172, 351, 734, 791, 796, 931 Deshasha  109, 116, 130, 142, 172 “Djedefre’s Mountain”  100 Djed-Snofru  193 Dodekaschoenus  334, 1008 Dokki  914, 919 Dongola Reach  914 Dor  421 Dra Abu el-Naga  739, 810 n. 118 Eastern Desert  210 n. 48, 378 n. 108, 631, 685, 789, 805, 904, 906, 909, 950 Ebla  544, 545 Ed-Derr  940 Edfu  64, 92, 97, 121, 131, 147, 148, 151, 172, 350, 434, 522, 524, 535–536, 541, 547, 559, 562, 566, 567, 570, 581, 764, 820 n. 156, 829, 950, 978, 1035–1037, 1056 El-Bawiti  904 El-Hawawish  109, 112, 114, 115, 123, 125, 1035; cf. also Akhmim El-Hibeh  962, 980, 1010 El-Kurru  919 El-Qasr  904 El-Tarif  23, 104, 383 Elephantine  22–23, 25, 65, 89, 90, 91, 92, 100, 102, 106, 111, 113, 114, 116, 121, 127, 142, 145, 150, 151, 172, 198 n. 3, 205 n. 31, 208 n. 41, 214, 228 n. 66, 283, 286, 299, 322, 324, 325, 328, 342, 356, 367 n. 71, 385, 524, 541 n. 59, 547, 555, 556, 559, 565, 563, 570, 793, 814 n. 136, 816, 839 n. 19, 846 n. 45, 858 n. 76, 902, 907, 935, 940, 954, 955, 971, 981, 994, 998–999, 1004, 1008, 1011, 1058, 1058, 1061, 1062; cf. also Aswan, Qubbet el-Hawa Elkab  63, 64, 65, 69, 88, 90, 91, 94 n. 22, 104, 105, 120, 125, 145, 150, 256, 391, 392, 432, 434, 524, 541 n. 59, 547, 549–551, 553, 557–558, 559, 565, 568, 580, 581, 631 n. 86, 719–720, 735, 738, 763, 787 n. 9, 824, 930 n. 61, 931, 932, 978, 1037, 1046



index

Ellesiya  935, 937 Esna  541 n. 59, 581, 738, 930 n. 61 Euphrates  410, 411, 648, 839 n. 24 Ezbet Rushdi  147, 151, 351 Farafra  113 Faras  680 n. 170, 825 n. 180, 913, 927, 933, 937, 941, 942 Farshût Road  820, 823, 829 Fayum  14, 93 n. 21, 97, 105, 112, 114, 116, 160, 232, 233, 321, 345–346, 352, 376, 408, 590, 899 n. 177 Gaza  409, 436–437, 476, 686, 694–695, 697, 905, 990 “Gazelle’s Head”  465–466 Gebel Antef  901 Gebel Barkal  648 n. 34, 796, 913, 917, 918, 927, 935, 949, 957 Gebel Dosha  935 Gebel el-Asr  798 n. 65, 799 n. 68, 802, 804, 812 n. 124, 813 Gebel el-Silsila  296, 306, 307, 317, 583, 623, 671, 672 n. 143, 763–764, 873 n. 119, 930, 932 Gebel el-Teir  104, 105 Gebel Qarn el-Hir  798, 823 Gebel Roma  823 Gebel Tjauti  810 Gebel Uweinat  813 Gebel Zeit  558, 560 n. 118 Gebelein  49, 98–99, 104, 125 n. 120, 148, 209 n. 43, 292, 449–453, 459, 541 n. 59, 562 n. 121, 1048, 1057 n. 94 Gerf Hussein  940 Gezer  694, 695 Girga Road  788 n. 13, 793, 795, 799 n. 68, 809, 813, 815, 820 n. 159, 821, 829 Giza  48, 95, 98, 100, 101, 161, 168, 179 n. 6 and 8, 180, 181, 194, 212 n. 56, 306, 319, 642, 644 n. 22, 699 Gohaina  125 Greece  207 n. 36 Hadja  720 Hagar el-Merwa  913 Hagarsa  114, 115, 125, 148, 150 Harageh  234, 488 n. 51, 742 Hardai  774, 776 Hatnub  127, 386, 388 Hatti  711 n. 319, 712, 715 Hattusa  692 Hawara  231, 345

1081

Head of the South  232, 284, 351, 366–367, 386, 981 Heit el-Ghurob (Giza)  180 n. 11 Heliopolis  64, 132, 146, 227, 258, 286, 321, 322, 380, 608, 609, 614, 615, 625, 755, 767, 855, 858, 889, 892 n. 162, 961 Helwan  20, 158, 161 Hemmamiya  109, 112, 113, 114, 115, 118, 142 Herakleion  298 Herakleopolis Magna  147, 238, 273, 295 n. 172, 323, 330, 384, 437, 440–442, 957, 959, 974, 981, 983, 984, 1000, 1011 Hermopolis  229, 673 n. 143, 957, 959, 984, 1017 Hibis  901, 906, 907–909, 985 Hierakonpolis  23, 92, 158, 373, 541 n. 59, 547, 680, 917, 927, 1056 Hinishi  960 Hotep-Senusret  232, 233 Hu  798, 820, 823, 902 Iasy  429 Ibhet  950 Ikayta  950 Ikkur  800 Imau  967; cf. also Kom el-Hisn Ipet-Sut  cf. Karnak Irem  825, 946, 948, 950–951 Irtjet  464, 469 Itjtawy  221, 232, 521, 536, 813 Iunyt  738 Jaffa  cf. Joppa Jerusalem  986 Joppa  694, 696 n. 250, 693, 701, 702 Judah  986, 1004 Kaau  465 Kahun  186 n. 40 Kalabsha  946 Kanais  268, 269, 296, 316, 329 Kanad  955 Karkemish  cf. Charchemish Karnak  227, 280, 286, 287, 289, 298, 299, 302, 303, 304, 307, 435, 547, 578, 579, 607–637, 686 n. 200, 729, 741, 764, 765, 767, 769, 776, 823, 858 n. 76, 860, 890, 971, 1000, 1037 Karoy  824, 916, 927 Kawa  270, 684 n. 193, 913, 915, 917 n. 17, 919, 942, 947, 949, 950

1082

index

Kerma  463, 524, 535, 715, 913, 914, 915, 919, 923, 924, 939, 945, 947, 949, 950–951 Kha-em-Maat  cf. Soleb Kharga  787 n. 9, 788 n. 13, 793, 798, 814, 815, 817, 818, 821, 824, 901–902, 906, 907–908, 985, 1058 Kharu  869 Khastem  1004 Khor el-Aquiba  105, 797 n. 56 Kom el-Ahmar/Sawaris  172 Kom el-Hisn  28 n. 55, 29 n. 66, 48, 99, 116, 117, 130, 143, 145; cf. also Imau Kom Medinet Ghurab  776 Kom Ombo  796, 930 n. 61 Kom Rebwa  91 Kor  427 Korti  947, 950 Kuban  289, 295, 298, 302, 320, 646 n. 29, 676 n. 155, 800, 946 Kubanieh  90 Kultepe  207 n. 36 Kumma  426, 427, 541 n. 59, 789 n. 20 Kurgus  824, 862 n. 91, 917 Kurkur  793–794, 797, 809, 825 n. 180, 826, 827 Kush  408, 410, 426, 430, 432, 435, 554, 558, 561, 565, 566–567, 568, 570, 654, 655, 675, 676–686, 690, 711, 869, 907, 911–963; cf. also Nubia Lachish  704 Lahun  186 n. 40, 224, 231, 232, 233, 257, 345, 357, 379, 503, 511–515, 1050 Lebanon  403, 404, 411, 422, 428–429, 431, 461, 618 Letti Basin  918, 939, 947, 950 Levant  47, 101, 132, 135, 207 n. 36, 379, 403, 404, 411, 428 n. 73, 431, 433, 468, 472, 474, 478, 523, 535, 538, 544, 571, 675, 686, 688, 690, 693, 696 n. 246, 704, 705, 710, 715 Libya  101, 399, 420, 438, 470–471, 704, 903, 907, 943, 1004 Lisht  221, 343, 432, 454, 521, 541, 793 Luxor  394, 395, 399, 835 Lydia  989, 995 Malqata  856 Marea  904, 1004 Mareotis  1005 Mari  544, 545

Marsa Alam Road  820 n. 156 Medamud  289, 319, 330, 562 n. 121, 565, 895 Medinet Habu  396, 418, 607, 620 n. 48, 626, 628, 629–631, 633–634, 636, 661 n. 98, 716, 727, 756, 761–762, 771, 855, 866 n. 101, 875 n. 123, 889, 890, 893 Megiddo  405, 412, 416, 443, 694, 701, 943 Meidum  179 n. 6, 193 Meir  123, 130, 131, 142, 172, 173, 363 n. 59, 376, 385 Memphis  5, 43, 44, 60, 64, 88, 91, 92, 95, 98, 99, 109, 115, 119, 123, 125, 132, 133, 141, 143, 146, 147, 151, 155, 161, 172, 202–203, 214, 217, 255, 258, 286, 319, 343, 380, 427, 578, 582, 591, 594, 598, 602, 604, 605, 608, 609, 614, 615, 617 n. 32, 623, 625, 644, 645, 654–656, 657, 658, 667 n. 120, 674, 684, 764, 767, 776, 855, 858, 863, 889, 892 n. 162, 934, 958–959, 961, 968, 969, 973–974, 981, 991, 994, 996, 1024 Menat-Khufu  351, 377–378, 388 Mendes  64, 91, 101–102, 132, 133, 975, 1016, 1035–1036 Mesopotamia  472 Miʿam  cf. Aniba Mirgissa  227, 379, 426, 955 Mitanni  405, 408, 411, 412, 413, 715 Mi-wer  cf. Moeris Moʿalla  136, 148, 173, 446 Moeris  776 Mut el-Kharab  100, 902, 904, 985 Nag Abidis  934 Naga ed-Deir  94 n. 22, 104, 143, 148, 150, 454, 456, 457, 458, 463, 1061 Naharina  702 n. 278 Napata  903, 913, 917, 918, 944, 979, 981 Naqada  20, 23, 33, 92 Naukratis  298, 1006, 1027 Nauri  268, 283, 293, 302, 307, 325–326, 329, 330, 331, 685, 705, 844, 858 n. 76, 881 n. 134, 887 n. 148 Nefrusy  600 Nekheb  cf. Elkab Nesut-Tawy  cf. Gebel Barkal Nubia  47, 89, 100, 105, 199 n. 8, 204 n. 27, 208 n. 41, 211, 231, 256, 366, 367 n. 71, 394, 399, 405, 407, 409,



index

416, 421, 424, 430, 432, 433, 434, 435, 438, 441, 443, 445, 457, 461, 463–464, 468–470, 478, 523, 530, 531, 554, 556, 558, 561, 566, 570, 571, 573 n. 152, 577, 595, 640, 647, 670, 673 n. 143, 675, 676–686, 690, 698, 705, 709, 710, 715, 768, 789, 791–793, 795–796, 802, 805, 807, 811, 825–829, 869, 898, 902, 907, 911–963, 980, 985, 994, 1005; cf. also Kush Nubt  228 Nugdumbush  947, 950 Nuq Maneih  796 Nuwayrat  91, 105 Oxyrhynchos  984 Palestine  25, 342, 403, 404, 411, 418–419, 420, 427, 431, 436, 438, 441, 476, 530, 531, 544–546, 573 n. 152, 696, 719, 986, 1026 Pelusium  905 Per-Bastet  934 Persepolis  906 n. 36 Perunefer  437, 587, 589, 648, 654–655, 694, 710, 991 Pharbaithos  961 Philistia  418 Pi-Ramesses  399, 420, 648, 658, 667, 707 n. 302, 713, 737, 855 Priene  989 Punt  101, 114, 250, 300, 305, 318, 430, 618, 905 Pylos  207 n. 36 Qadesh  405, 413, 414, 416 Qarn el-Gir  798, 827 Qasr el-Benet  125 n. 120 Qasr el-Ghueita  906, 907, 909 Qasr el-Megisba  909 Qasr el-Sagha  356–357 Qasr el-Sayed  123, 172 Qasr Ibrim  682 n. 178, 912, 835, 937, 941, 953, 955 Qatna  544 Qaw  353, 383, 389 n. 153, 757, 880 n. 133, 1048 Qedy  702 n. 277 and 278 Qena Bend  789, 809, 909 Qila el-Dabba  200 Qis  cf. Cusae Qubban  cf. Kuban

1083

Qubbet el-Hawa  375, 1043; cf. also Aswan, Elephantine Quesna  91, 94 n. 22 Qurna  589 Qus  587 n. 193 Quseir el-Amarna  131, 363 n. 59 Qustul  945, 951 Red Sea  48, 101, 231, 468, 559 n. 113, 792, 901, 905, 906, 909, 990 Reqaqna  94 n. 22, 104 Retjenu  428, 538, 539 n. 52, 542, 589, 590, 698, 700 Rifeh  375 Rizeiqat  562 n. 121 Sai  322, 913, 918 n. 22, 928, 935, 940 Sais  91, 305, 342, 957–958, 960, 967, 974 Samos  995 Sanam  919, 947, 950 Saqqara  20, 33, 62, 95, 103, 158, 159, 161, 164, 179 n. 6 and 7, 181, 194, 472, 603, 972, 1029, 1034–1035, 1046 Sayala  951, 1056 Sebennytos  975–976 Sedinga  913, 915 Sehel  268, 319, 678 n. 162, 927 Sehetep-netjeru  cf. Faras Sekhem-Senusret  515 Sekmem  427 Semna  227, 284, 286, 289, 295, 302, 314, 320, 427, 677, 679, 687, 825 n. 180, 903 Senbet  929 Senmet  935 Serabit el-Khadim  917 n. 19 Serra East  227 Sesebi  913, 915, 935, 941 Setju  469 Sharuhen  436, 719 Sharuna  123, 130, 131, 135 n. 161 Shat er-Rigal  794 Sheikh Said  99, 105, 109, 115, 130, 172, 383 Sheila  93 Sile  409, 420, 686, 687–689, 697, 702, 703, 905 Sinai  33, 101, 114, 222, 240, 245, 311, 404, 411, 436, 538, 539 n. 52, 542, 686, 788, 799 n. 68, 802, 803 n. 82 and 83, 821, 905, 990, 1005

1084

index

Sinn el-Kaddab  806, 827 Siut  123, 124 n. 119, 131, 139, 147, 148, 310, 350, 353, 358, 376, 384, 386, 438–440, 445, 449–450, 451, 452, 453, 457, 459, 722, 727, 758, 785, 875 n. 124, 893 n. 165, 907, 934, 1038 Siwa  797 n. 56, 904, 908, 917 Soleb  301, 305, 307, 913, 915, 915, 918, 936–937, 941 Susa  906 Syene  968, 981, 1061 Syria  404, 405, 409, 411, 414, 476, 530, 544–546, 573 n. 152, 696, 986 Ta-Sety  925, 927, 938, 940 Tamukkan  906 n. 36 Tanis  421, 960 Tarkhan  20, 161 Tebtynis  292 Tehna  104, 105, 107, 109, 115, 376 Tell Basta  cf. Bubastis Tell el-Ajjul  694 Tell el-Balamun  666 Tell el-Dabʿa  356, 357 n. 43, 419, 420, 421, 432, 437, 475, 476, 521, 524, 535, 536, 538, 539 n. 52, 541–546, 654, 834 n. 5, 855 Tell el-Farʾah  694, 704 Tell el-Farkha  23, 91, 101 Tell el-Yahudiya  855 Tell Heboua  cf. Sile Tell Horbeit  993 Tell Ibrahim Awad  92, 133 Tell Kedwa  905 Tell Mor  694, 702 Tell Seraʾ  694, 704 Tent-remu  957, 960 “Terrace of Turquoise”  114, 462 Teudjoi  973, 982–983, 999–1001, 1010–1015, 1018 Thebaid  811, 813, 818 n. 148, 908, 968, 977, 979–980 Thebes  88, 92, 94 n. 22, 144, 147, 148, 151, 172, 173, 219, 220, 227, 233, 293, 301, 308, 342, 365, 383, 386, 392, 418, 421, 434–435, 437, 443–445, 447, 449, 452, 457, 459, 470, 521–522, 524, 541, 546–570, 571, 577–581, 591, 593, 607–637, 671, 674, 699, 709, 713, 729, 732, 755, 767–768, 787 n. 9, 789, 793, 798, 823, 829, 855–856, 860, 863, 881, 901, 903, 907, 909, 912, 927, 929, 931, 932, 934, 943, 949, 952–953, 956, 959, 961–962, 971, 978, 980–981, 984, 1003, 1010, 1058, 1061–1062

Thinis  94 n. 22, 143, 158, 159, 248, 351, 559, 562 n. 121, 583, 603, 795, 907, 908, 1007, 1051 Tihna el-Gebel  cf. Tehna Timna  917 n. 19 Tjaru  606, 667 n. 120, 686, 693 n. 232, 702 Tjeni  931 Tod  289, 559, 562 n. 121 Tombos  642, 678 n. 162, 682 n. 178, 862 n. 91, 914, 916, 918, 919, 947, 949, 950 Toshka  800, 802, 946 Tundaba  821–822 Tura  56, 319 Ugarit  418, 541 n. 59, 544, 692 Ullaza  429 Umm el-Qaʿab  24, 33, 35 Umm Ubeyda  908 Uronarti  227, 426, 427, 524 Via Maris  692 n. 227, 694–695 Wadi Alamat  798 Wadi Alamat Road  798 Wadi Allaqi  800, 821 n. 162, 825 Wadi Barramiya  825, 828, 950 Wadi Dunqash  825 n. 179 Wadi el-Hôl  799, 807, 808 n. 106, 806, 820, 823, 830 Wadi el-Hudi  231, 240, 242, 250, 791, 798 n. 65, 799 n. 69, 800, 801 Wadi el-Jarf  101 Wadi es-Sebua  399, 614, 935, 940 Wadi Halfa  676 n. 155 Wadi Hamid  950 n. 133 Wadi Hammamat  179 n. 5, 231, 250, 378 n. 108, 385, 386, 432, 553, 560 n. 118, 623, 672–673, 703, 785 n. 2, 802, 812 n. 125, 821, 901, 903, 904, 905 Wadi Mia  821, 917 n. 19 Wadi Natrun  222, 801 Wadi Tumilat  101 Wah-Sut (Abydos)  229, 367–368, 379, 558 “Wall of the Ruler”  801 Wawat  105, 408, 430, 443, 445, 464, 679, 681, 683–684, 790–791, 795 n. 44, 797, 800 n. 70, 825–827, 869, 911, 916, 923, 925, 926, 935, 937, 939, 945–947 “Ways of Horus”  420, 686, 687 n. 205, 690, 701, 704, 821



index

Western Desert  199, 463, 468–469, 789, 795, 803, 805, 810 “Western Wall of Pharaoh”  827 Yam  463, 465, 468–469, 951 Yua  428, 429

1085

Zawiyet el-Amwat  383 Zawiyet el-Aryan  179 n. 6 Zawiyet el-Mayetin  91, 92, 94 n. 22, 109, 115, 130, 131, 132, 135 n. 164, 172 Zawiyet Umm el-Rakham  704, 943

Egyptian Words and Selected Titles

¡bt  1042 ¡ḥ t  735 ¡ḥ t-nmḥ   750–752, 756–758, 1022 ¡ḥ t-ḥ nk  1022 ¡t̠w-officer  145 n. 211, 205, 254, 255, 424–425, 530

¡t̠w n t̠t ḥ q¡  566, 568, 640, 812 j¡t “office”  480, 515 n. 170, 519

jʿ(¡)w “interpreter”  220, 788, 812 n. 127 jw-receipt  1019 jw “island”  772 jw m¡wt “new island”  129 jw¡jt “substitute”  494 n. 74, 519 jwt  26 jp “account”  26, 56 n. 71, 213, 321, 997 jpt “private area of the palace” 122, 221, 237, 968 jm¡ḫ w  201, 213 jmj-r  31 n. 84, 33 n. 98, 68 jmj-r ¡bw  100, 106, 111, 113 jmj-r ¡ḥ t  234, 723, 999, 1009 jmj-r ʿ¡ ḫ ¡swt  1002 jmj-jrtj ʿpr wj¡  788 jmj-r jswj h̠ kr nzwt  74 jmj-r wpw ḥ tp-nt̠r  999 jmj-r ʿḥ ʿw nsw  997, 652 jmj-r ʿh̠ nwtj  218, 222, 232, 243, 530, 802–803 jmj-r w  810 jmj-r wpt  106, 111, 145 n. 211, 170 jmj-r pr  139, 200, 216, 219, 220, 223, 225–226, 231, 240, 246, 530, 723, 798, 995, 1009, 1055 jmj-r pr wr  225–226, 230, 234, 247–250, 731 jmj-r pr-ḥ d̠  60, 73, 74, 803, 938, 995 jmj-r mnf¡jt  401, 422 n.57, 987, 993 jmj-r mnnw  111, 114, 170 jmj-r mšʿ  33, 113, 148, 221, 254–255, 365, 529, 566, 568, 651 n. 49, 668, 712, 969–970, 987, 1023; cf. also General jmj-r mšʿ ʿ¡mw  807 jmj-r mšʿ wr  642, 651 n. 49, 712 ̌ jmj-r md̠w Smʿw  181

jmj-r nwwt m¡wt  107, 111, 170 jmj-r nzwtjw  111, 170 jmj-r rwtj  220–221, 973 jmj-r ḥ wt-ʿ¡t  107, 111 jmj-r ḥ wt-nt̠r  117, 141, 529 jmj-r ḥ mw-nt̠r  173, 358, 361, 363–381, 383, 389, 390, 391, 559 jmj-r ḥ tr  988 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt  989 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt j¡bt jmntt  790 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt mḥ twt  696, 698, 699, 943 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt nbw Jmn  828 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt rsjt  916, 925, 929, 943–944, 947, 954 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt ḥ ʿw nbw  972 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt sttjw  988 jmj-r ḫ ¡swt T̠ ḥ nw  988 jmj-r ḫ ¡stjw Ḥ ¡w-nbw  91–992 jmj-r ḫ nrt  220, 234, 549 jmj-r ḫ tm  569, 582, 731 jmj-r ḫ tmt  215, 220, 238–241, 243, 245, 252, 254, 527–529, 531, 540, 548–553, 555, 803, 878 jmj-r ḫ tmtjw  241, 249 ̌ 116 jmj-r z¡w Smʿw  jmj-r swnw  111 jmj-r sḫ t  203 jmj-r sḫ tjw  221, 227, 529, 531, 553 jmj-r ssmwt  646 jmj-r sš d̠¡d̠¡t  996 jmj-r st  224 jmj-r st d̠f¡ pr-nzwt  80, 81 ̌ jmj-r Smʿw  87, 102, 119, 121, 126 n. 123, 132–134, 136, 141, 144, 145 n. 210, 146, 168, 161, 173, 1034 jmj-r šn “lesonis”  1024 jmj-r šnwt  54, 60, 61 n. 92, 66 n. 123, 73, 74, 211, 582, 996, 1009 jmj-r šnt̠  223, 257, 810–812 jmj-r gs-pr  241, 254, 527, 551, 553, 557–558 jmj-r k¡t  21, 178 jmj-r T¡-jḥ w  796 n. 51 jmj-r t̠nw  113

1086

index

jmj-ḫ t “in the retinue”  615 jmj-ḫ t pr-ḥ d̠  74 jmjt-pr  10, 838, 881, 891 jnw-delivery  26, 430, 616, 632, 657, 697, 791, 916, 922, 929, 943, 944 jrj-pʿt  8, 156, 164, 166, 220, 224, 370, 372, 380, 391, 644 n. 22, 646, 971 jrj-md̠¡t nzwt  69 jrj Nḫ n  169, 236–237, 373, 527, 537, 561 n. 120 jrj hp  742 jrj-ḫ t pr-ʿ¡  100 jrp  22 n. 18 jḥ wtj  562, 746–749, 753, 1019 n. 196, 1051, 1054, 1057–1058 jḥ t-land  cf. ʿḥ t-land js “office”  52 js d̠f¡  28, 30, 34, 76, 80–82, 161 jsft  841–843, 846 jšd “desert date”  62 jt-cereal  63 n. 103 jt “father”  355 jt-nt̠r  1018 jdb-land  771–772 jdnw  240, 528, 585, 586, 630, 656 n. 71, 669–670, 674, 680 n. 169, 681, 683, 691, 716, 748, 773, 824–825, 838, 869 n. 111, 913, 914, 916, 917 n. 17, 925, 926, 933, 934, 936–937, 941 jdḥ w-marshland  347 ʿ-channel  352 n. 29, 735 ʿ-area  863 ʿ¡ “potentate”  140, 148 ʿ¡ n mrjt  981 ʿ¡ n št “chief taxing master”  738 ʿ¡mw  994 ʿwjj-house  1023 ʿbw-r “royal repast”  81 ʿpr “gang”  181–182, 187 ʿpr wj¡ jmj-jrtj  197–214 ʿftj “brewer”  66 ʿn “royal document”  171, 234 n. 110 ʿnḫ n mšʿ  640 ʿnḫ n nwt  149, 255, 567, 639 ʿnḫ n t̠t nwt  530 ʿnḫ w “soldier”  422–425, 440 ʿrjt/ʿrrtj “gate”  505, 866 ʿḥ -palace  50, 244, 247 ʿḥ ¡wtj “warrior”  149, 257, 806 ʿḥ ʿ “global amount”  213 ʿḥ ʿ nsw n ʿḥ ¡  991 ʿḥ ʿw “property”  778 ʿḥ t-land  96, 108, 109 n. 76, 135, 735 ʿḥ t-bḥ   758

ʿt “chamber”  243–245, 258 ʿd̠-mr  28 n. 55, 29, 31, 106, 158, 170, 186, 187, 362 ʿd̠-mr ḫ ¡st  33 ʿd̠-mr smjt  33 ʿd̠-mr grgt  113 w  810 w¡ḥ -mw  1018, 1021 wʿw  649, 738 wʿb-priest  137, 186 n. 44, 189–195, 562, 742, 764, 860, 940, 941, 1057–1058 wʿb “free”  490–491, 493 wʿb nzwt  201 wʿrt  252, 390, 492, 496 n. 88, 723, 778, 805, 806 n. 94 wʿrt rsjt  390 wʿḥ “carob bean”  62 wpwtj nswt  694, 692, 711 n. 319, 788, 807, 873, 877, 905, 926–927, 930, 932, 933, 936 wpt-list  510–515, 517 wr “great one”  71, 140, 148, 485, 487 n. 43, 834 n. 5, 944, 946–948, 957, 976, 1053 wr pr-ḥ d̠ nzwt  54 wr m¡¡  146, 755 ̌ wr md̠w Smʿw  236–237, 527, 561 n. 119 and 120, 567 n. 137 wr swnw  972 wḥ ¡t  791, 818 wḥ jt  497, 1042 wḥ mw  200, 232, 235–236, 861, 868, 881, 886 wḫ ¡ “letter”  260 wḫ ¡j “hall”  506 wsḫ t  62 n. 96 wtḫ w “fugitive”  798 wdpw  245, 799, 874 wd̠¡ “storeroom”  80, 213 wd̠ʿ  846, 857 wd̠b “revert”  77, 81 wd̠b-rd  77 wd̠t  891 wd̠-nsw  259–350, 858 b¡k-servant  495, 1042, 1052, 1057 n. 94 b¡k-work  490, 791, 795 n. 45, 796 b¡kw-delivery  394, 430, 486, 697, 790, 916, 936, 944, 948 bw “place”  1049 bḥ -corvée  758 bdt-cereal  63 n. 103 pʿt  157, 161, 484, 837, 848 pʿt-land  771–772 pr “house, domain”  89, 96, 355, 379,



index

513, 613, 704, 766–768, 779–781, 854, 887, 895 n. 167, 1048, 1056 pr ʿ nzwt  134 pr-ʿ¡  50–51, 396, 398, 1046 n. 43 pr ʿnḫ   cf. House of Life pr-ʿqt  72 n. 152 pr-mnḫ t  192 pr-md̠¡t  134 pr-nbw  229, 238, 245, 731 pr-nswt  28, 30, 31, 34, 50–58, 62–65, 82, 134, 157, 161–162, 394–396, 398, 481, 731–732, 872–873 pr-ḥ rj-wd̠b  15, 22, 75, 76, 77–80, 103 n. 55, 134, 162, 775 pr-ḥ d̠  31–31, 34, 38, 57 n. 77, 61, 157, 161, 803 pr-h̠ rt-ḫ tmt  134 pr-šnʿ  34, 38, 66, 775 pr-twt  192 pr-dšr  31–32, 71–72, 80, 161 pr-d̠t  98, 1043, 1046 pr(t) “expense”  213 pḥ w  796 ph̠ rt “border patrol”  809 n. 109 psšt “share”  721 m¡ʿt  841–844, 846, 851, 853–854, 857 m¡wt  772 mjnt-land  cf. Mine-land mjtj “copy”  260, 292 mʿb¡jt  875 mwt nswt “King’s mother”  31 n. 80, 272 mnj-worker  495, 496, 518 mnjw “landing place”  776 mnf¡t  255, 465 n. 144 mnnw “stronghold”  689, 784, 807 mrḥ t-oil  212, 213 mrt-sanctuary  201 mrt-workers  108, 201, 495, 518, 740, 1042 mḫ r-silo  62–63 msw nswt “royal children”  95, 117, 118, 120 mšʿ  465 n. 144, 668, 798 mšrw-land  772 mk(j) “protect”  332–334 mkdr-fort  686 mdwj “demagogue”  700 n. 260 md̠¡t “balance”  841 n. 32 md̠d-tax  58 nww “hunter”  796 n. 54, 806, 812 nwt “locality”  129, 209, 351, 497 nwt m¡wt “new domain”  109, 116, 117, 124, 126, 127, 129 nb jrt ḫ t “master of action”  849

1087

nfr “recruit”  100, 114, 255, 422, 440, 518, 589, 592, 594, 597, 659, 674, 798–799, 806, 987 nmḥ   260, 750–752, 1052 nḥ ¡  778 nḥ ḥ   837 n. 14 nḥ sj  685, 791 n. 26 nḫ b-land  749, 757, 771–772 nḫ t  1030 nḫ t-ḫ rw  67, 113, 796 n. 51 nḫ tw-fort  686 nswt  957, 959 nswt-bjtj  834 n. 5 nzwtj-worker  77, 111, 116 nd̠w “miller”  66 nd̠s “commoner”  140, 485, 486, 489 rwd̠w  630, 748, 792–795, 797–798, 822, 859 n. 80, 935 rmnjjt-domain  99, 630–631, 724, 741, 749, 752, 757, 778, 1049 rḫ jjt  26 n. 42, 78, 202, 484, 837, 848 rḫ nswt  95, 100, 108, 110, 111, 112, 145, 200, 213, 241–242, 529, 531, 552–553 rḫ t “list/amount”  213 rsw  978 rtḥ “baker”  66 hj-troop  465 n. 144 hp  489, 858, 861 hn  26 ḥ ¡wtj “commander”  647, 651 ḥ ¡wtj-gift  927 ḥ ¡jt “flooded land”  772 ḥ ¡tj-ʿ  8, 37, 136, 141, 156, 164, 166, 185, 186, 220, 224, 355, 358, 361, 364–381, 388, 390, 391, 488, 529, 543 n. 66, 546, 548, 559, 644 n. 22, 732, 810 n. 115, 882, 925, 937, 971, 978, 984, 1007, 1016, 1048, 1053, 1054, 1056 ḥ ¡tj-ʿ n wḥ ¡t  818 ḥ w  849 ḥ wr “wretch”  485–486, 489, 496, 502–503, 504 ḥ wt  6, 27, 88–89, 91, 96, 99, 103, 109, 120, 121, 124–128, 149, 160, 732, 810, 1034 ḥ wt-ʿ¡t  78, 88–89, 91, 96, 99, 101, 103, 107, 109, 116, 120, 124, 125, 126, 1046 n. 43 ḥ wt-ʿnḫ   78, 81, 104, 875 n. 124 ḥ wt-wrt  167 ḥ wt-k¡  121, 127, 137–138, 201, 202, 895 n. 169 ḥ m “servant, slave”  495, 720, 751, 791–792, 1022

1088

index

ḥ m nswt  98, 399 n. 11, 434, 495 ḥ m-nt̠r 184, 186, 187–195, 563, 999, 1018, 1038, 1061 ḥ m-k¡  201, 755 ḥ n “protect”  329 ḥ npt “farm”  897 ḥ nk “donation”  319, 843, 898, 1016, 1022 ḥ nk-land  757, 760–764 ḥ rj jwʿjjt  666, 696 ḥ rj jḥ w  649, 667, 677, 691, 696, 738, 923 ḥ rj-wd̠¡  29, 80 ḥ rj-wd̠b  246 ḥ rj pr  247, 1048 ḥ rj-pd̠t  646, 649, 675, 677–678, 680, 691, 928, 941–942 ḥ rj-h̠ njjt  648 ḥ rj-sšt¡  170 ḥ rj-sd̠¡wt pr-ḥ d̠  73 ḥ rj-sd̠¡wt mḫ r ʿbw-r  81 ḥ rj šwtjw  1024 ḥ rj-tp 139, 140, 141, 144, 148, 364 n. 62, 642, 1055 ḥ rj-tp ʿ¡  124–126, 132, 139, 146, 147, 150, 170, 361–383, 886 n. 143, 1034, 1038 ḥ rt-ʿ “arrears”  213 ḥ sb  997 ḥ sbw “conscripted”  491, 494–496, 503, 518 ḥ q¡  88, 91, 139, 142 n. 199, 143, 158, 199, 926, 948, 1053, 1055, 1056 ḥ q¡ wḥ ¡t  199 ḥ q¡ nzwt  105, 114 ḥ q¡ ḥ wt  103, 125–126, 148, 150, 220, 382, 488, 810, 882, 1043 ḥ q¡ ḥ wt-ʿ¡t  34, 107, 111, 170 ḥ q¡ ḫ ¡swt  543 ḥ q¡ zp¡t  106 ḥ tp-nt̠r  212, 323–324, 518, 613, 616, 1020 ḥ tr-tax  822 n. 168 ḫ ¡ n t̠¡tj  232 ḫ ¡w “measurer”  66 ḫ ¡-n-t¡-land  cf. Khato-land ḫ w(j) “protect”  332–334 ḫ bsw-land  500, 722–723, 741, 777, 1049 ḫ mw-grain  796 n. 54 ḫ rw-land  764 ḫ nrt  128, 508–509, 734 n. 54 ḫ nrt wrt  233–234, 508–509, 732, 734 n. 54, 743, 879, 996, 998

ḫ ntj-š  52, 138 n. 180, 146, 185, 186 n. 44, 187–195, 258 ḫ ntš-land  722 ḫ rp  24, 29, 31, 68 ḫ rp ʿḥ   51 ḫ rp wsḫ t  254 ḫ rp pr-nswt  30 ḫ rp nbj  28 ḫ rp nswj  107 ḫ rp ḥ rj-jb  28 n. 55, 29 n. 66 ḫ rp smjt  33 ḫ rp tm¡tjw  114, 988 ḫ tm “enclosure, fort”  229, 689, 693 n. 232, 695 ḫ tmw  219, 241, 731 ḫ tmw n wḥ ¡t  795 ḫ tmw-bjtj  75, 76, 141, 157, 160, 164, 220, 224, 256, 372, 380, 391, 527–529, 540, 562, 563, 775 ḫ tmw nzwt  57 n. 77, 75 ḫ tmw-nt̠r  187, 246, 787–788, 802, 805 n. 90 ḫ tmw šnwt nzwt  54 ḫ tmw kf¡-jb  803, 805 n. 90 ḫ tmw d̠f¡ bjtj  81 ḫ tmt “sealed objects”  73, 527–529, 531–533, 536–537, 540–546 ḫ tmtj  200 h̠ nw “Residence”  34, 54–58, 60–61, 69, 73, 82 h̠ nm “basin”  772 h̠ r “dependent”  1050 h̠ rj-ʿ “assistant”  24, 31 n. 84, 71, 74, 192–193, 518 h̠ rj-ḥ b  8, 107, 191–192, 562 h̠ rj-tp nswt  34, 45, 66, 145, 186, 202 n. 19 h̠ rj-tp šnwt  45 h̠ rw “household”  512–515 h̠ rd  1051 h̠ rd n k¡p  237, 586–587, 930, 948, 949 h̠ krt-nswt  921–922 s¡ “phyle”  181, 186, 492 s¡ “company”  412 z¡-guard  205 s¡-pr “policeman”  812, 988 s¡ nswt  “King’s son”  37, 95, 113, 118, 164, 395, 526–527, 676–678, 680 n. 169, 682 s¡ nswt n K¡š  cf. King’s Son of Kush; Viceroy of Kush s¡(t) ḥ ¡tj-ʿ  372, 1056 s¡ s “gentleman”  140 s¡b  235–236, 600, 930



index

s¡b jrj-Nḫ n  806 s¡ḥ “endow”  720 s¡ḥ w-field  720 sj¡  849 sjptj “inventory”  321; cf. also jp(w) sjnw  807 sʿḥ   140 swnw-tower  90 n. 8, 97, 109, 120, 124, 125, 149 swnt-guild  1023 sb¡jjt  270 sbj “rebel”  812 n. 185 sp¡t “domain, district”  129, 732–733, 735, 740, 763 sft̠-oil  72 sm-priest  62, 186, 630, 631, 633, 634, 644 smnt  33 smr  139, 157 smr wʿtj  8, 45, 136, 141, 164, 166, 185, 186, 220, 372, 380, 391, 528, 867 smsw h¡jt  236, 527 smdt  623, 656, 1042 sn-d̠t  1045–1046, 1050 sr 108, 110, 134, 141, 143, 148, 167, 202, 203, 484, 485, 487 n. 43, 488 n. 53, 681 n. 174, 732, 971 sḥ n srw  969 sḥ wj “compendium”  213 sḥ tp  846 sḥ d̠  63, 68, 200, 239 sḥ d̠ pr-ḥ d̠  74 sḥ d̠ mḫ r Nḫ b  63 sḥ d̠ sš ʿ nzwt  75 sḫ n-¡ḫ   28, 38 sḫ -Ḥ r  cf. Hall of Horus sḫ rw-silo  67 n. 128 sḫ t  203, 496 n. 87 sḫ tj  496 n. 87, 499 n. 99 sš ʿ nzwt  68 sš m ḫ ¡jt  67 sš n t̠m¡  733, 742–743, 882, 886 sš sd̠¡wt pr-ḥ d̠  74 sš qd “draughtsman”  373 sšm “distribution”  206 sšm t¡  88, 100, 106, 111, 142, 170, 362 sk¡  1019 st-tomb  1021 st n ḥ wt-nt̠r “temple office”  1018–1019 stp-s¡  51 st̠¡ “protector”  1030 sdf  “foundation”  761 sd̠f¡  613, 614, 617, 625, 766 sd̠mj “listener”  867

1089

sd̠t nzwt “royal foster child”  107, 1041 š¡ “countryside”  499 n. 99 š¡-land  772 š¡jt-tax  822 šbw-payment  670 špss nzwt  200, 213 šmw-revenue  747, 1019–1020 šmw-land  778 šmsw  205, 256–257, 530, 567, 640, 668 n. 123, 675, 688, 1048 šmsw n ḥ q¡  640 šmsw nsw  675 šmsw Ḥ r  26, 27, 34, 37 šnʿ  34, 237, 238, 240, 243–244, 249, 258, 493 šnt̠-police  810–811 šr “to block”  785 n. 4 šrj  1051 šdw-field  720, 751 q¡jjt-land  347, 749, 757, 764, 771–772 qʿḥ t “district”  984 qb “to double”  628 qnbt  cf. Council qnbtj n w  142, 882, 886 qrḥ t “nobility”  385 qḥ t-land  722 qd ḥ tp  30 k¡p  237, 243, 586–587, 948 k¡t-work  58 kbnt-ship  991 kd̠n  675, 677 g¡wt  795 n. 45 grg “sedition”  842 grgt  96, 99, 109, 124, 125 gs-pr  55–58, 117, 130 t¡jtj z¡b t̠¡tj  cf. Vizier tw¡ “client”  502 tp-rd “regulation”  858 tmj “town”  1011 t̠¡j ḫ w ḥ r wnmj-nsw  684 t̠¡j-srjjt 648 t̠¡w “bearer”  235 tp-rd “management”  892 tp-d̠rt-tax  632 thr-mercenary  651 tš “province”  984 t̠nj-land  749, 757, 771–772 t̠nw “border zone”  113 t̠sw “commander”  559, 566, 817 t̠st-team  64, 210, 491, 495 t̠t “detachment”  425, 437 d¡b “fig”  62 dmjt “town”  689 dnjt “land register”  746, 754

1090

index

dqrw-fruit  773 d̠¡mw “recruit”  149, 492, 798–799, 806 d̠¡d̠¡t  cf. Council d̠f¡  26

d̠ḥ   26 d̠t  837 n. 14 d̠t-serf  188, 192, 515, 495, 618 n. 38, 1045, 1050, 1061

Thematic Index A-Group  945 Abnormal hieratic  979–980, 1023, 1025 Abuse  12, 328–329, 659, 665–667, 689, 706, 892, 897 n. 162, 1058 Accessibility  505–509 Account  cf. Reckon Account, rendering of  862–863 Acculturation  681–682, 945–948 Admiral  972, 990–991 Admonitions  489, 503, 796 n. 49, 875 n. 123, 881 n. 135 Aegean, troops  991–994  Agriculture  117, 719–783, 902, 925, 939, 946–947, 952, 995 Alphabet, early  808–809 Allocation  888, 891 n. 159 and 160 Allocation, land  740, 753, 773, 778, 888 Amarna letters  601, 690 Ambassador  692, 694 Amduat  270 Amenemhat, Teaching of  484 n. 24, 881 n. 138 Amenemope, Teaching of  870 n. 112, 875 n. 123, 1030, 1057 n. 94 Amethyst  231, 250, 791, 800 Amorites  545 Ancestor  273 Ancestor, royal  178 Annals, priestly  956 Annals, royal  22, 36, 92, 95–96, 99, 116, 137, 304–305, 474, 489, 617, 618, 701, 707 n. 302, 808 n. 102, 856 n. 69 Apiru  673, 674 Appointment  5, 318, 926, 963, 1063 Archer  415, 439, 448, 450, 451, 454, 457–459, 461, 462–463, 471, 473, 641, 646, 986–988 Archives  9–11, 15, 167, 197–214, 658, 729, 732, 858 n. 74, 861, 863–864, 879–880, 891, 1061 Aristocracy  87, 407, 433, 920–923 Army  114, 128, 148–149, 179, 180, 254–258, 388, 393–478, 639–717, 736, 855, 868, 870–872, 875, 894 n. 166, 941–942, 986–989

Army, hierarchy  395 Arrow  453–458 Arsenal  419–420 Artisan  cf. Craftsman Asia, administration  686–700 Asiatic  441, 461, 463–464, 520, 523, 533–534, 538–539, 541–546, 566, 806–807, 1050 Assessment  748–749, 754, 768–774, 777–780, 822 Association  514 Assyrian  955, 958–961, 962, 965, 967–968, 977, 985 Ax  433, 472–473 Babylonian  985, 1026 Baghavad-Gītā  841 n. 30 Bakery  206 Basin  346–347 Beer  244, 258 Biography  21, 355–356, 406, 465, 698, 709–710, 726, 1029 Book of the Gates  270 Book of the Heavenly Cow  842, 843 n. 39, 876 Border  14, 351–352, 505–507, 509, 812, 854, 904, 916, 917, 943, 955, 989 Bow  456–458, 472, 474, 475 n. 162 Bow, compound  458 Bowman  cf. Archer Brand  668 n. 123, 693 Bread  cf. Provisions Bureaucracy  43, 57, 497 n. 91 C-Group  459, 463 Cadaster  732, 742, 746, 877, 881–882; cf. also dnjt Calasiries  987–988 Camp, military  414, 987, 992 Campaign  397, 403, 426, 427, 428, 462, 559, 618, 670, 679, 691, 703, 706, 716, 719, 825 Canaanite  523 Canal  cf. Channel Caravan  143, 449, 457, 460, 468, 821–822, 824, 827, 904, 907, 1004



index

Career, administrative  103, 355, 427, 581, 709–713, 714, 717, 864–865, 912, 919–920, 1029, 1039 Cargo  431 Carian, troops  991–994 Cattle  48, 96, 99, 114, 120, 129, 130, 131, 134, 141, 142, 218, 224, 250, 434, 470, 499, 500, 578, 590, 591, 592, 593, 594, 612, 616, 617, 618, 620, 623, 626, 665, 686, 705, 706, 740, 759, 868, 873, 882, 891 n. 158, 902, 938, 939, 1016 Census  91, 143, 149, 510–518, 881 Center, agricultural  107, 111, 131 Center, processing  126, 127, 128, 129 Center, royal  91, 93, 96–97, 705 Center, provisioning  404, 410 Centralisation  47–50, 82, 102, 132, 161, 174, 175, 225, 228, 344, 383–384, 966, 1039 Cereals  89–90; cf. also Grain Channel  319, 344–349, 352, 880, 990 Chariot  422, 428, 436, 703, 988 Chariotry  396, 397, 401, 405, 406, 412, 413–414, 433, 474–478, 641, 643, 646, 656, 662 n. 99, 677–678, 693, 705–706, 707, 857, 870, 871, 894 n. 166, 921, 923 Chief  136, 141, 142, 144, 145; cf. also ḥ rj-tp Chief of Asian Foreigners  988 Chief of Bowmen of Kush  916 Chief of the Libu  958 Chief of the Ma  958 Chief Physician  972–973 “Children of the desert”  812 n. 127 Choachyte  1018, 1020–1027 Cistern  cf. Well City  cf. Town City-state  410, 418, 420, 544–545, 690, 693, 695, 715 Claim  276 Cleruchy  722 Coffin Texts  281, 336, 1042 “Colonial model”  913, 914, 916–919, 944 Colony  690 Colony, mercenaries  651 Command, royal  259–350 Commodity  201, 238, 250, 254, 536, 540, 693 Competence, area of  714 Complexity  174

1091

Confiscation  665, 666, 689, 701, 705, 722, 724, 735, 743, 1000 Conscription  487–489, 494, 496, 501, 504, 511, 566, 567, 871, 887 n. 148, 903, 987 Conspiracy  684 n. 192, 840 n. 25, 846, 859 n. 77, 867 n. 103 and 104, 942, 973, 1032, 1039–1041, 1057 Contract  759, 1009, 1025 Contract, social  850 Coptos, decrees  129, 130, 134–135, 136, 137, 138 n. 178, 139–140, 143, 146 Corruption  12, 497 n. 91, 857, 1030 Corvée  cf. Work, compulsory Council  126, 136, 139, 142, 202, 203, 260, 500, 508, 732–733, 735, 763, 858, 859–861, 866–869, 874 n. 122, 875, 882, 886, 969–971, 976, 996–997, 1041 Coup d’État  647, 844–845, 980 Courier cf. Messenger Court, royal  5, 122, 123, 138, 143 n. 202, 146, 150, 153, 161, 162, 169, 199, 201, 215, 219, 221, 225–226, 230, 234, 235, 236, 253–254, 354, 394, 408, 422, 548, 557, 561, 573, 581, 588, 589, 647, 681, 684, 688, 690, 699, 710, 715, 855–856, 866, 872, 888, 948–949, 969–974, 1032–1033, 1036–1038, 1047, 1053 Courtier  153, 308, 839, 971, 1032–1034, 1039, 1045, 1059 Counting cf. Reckon Craftsman  180, 252–253, 395, 399, 491, 515–516, 560, 578, 600, 601, 888, 906, 1047 n. 44 Cultivation, collective  758, 770, 775, 778, 783 Cultivator  612, 618, 673 n. 144, 721, 739, 748, 820, 1061; cf. also Peasant Customs, service of  869, 871, 994, 998, 1002–1006, 1027 Cypriot  994 Decentralisation  225, 228, 591, 595, 622, 789 Decree of Horemheb 260, 267, 269, 270, 277, 279, 298, 300, 302, 307, 315, 327, 659–662, 664, 665, 669, 831 Decree of Nauri  268, 283, 293, 302, 307, 325–326, 329, 330, 331, 653, 655 n. 65, 665, 685, 912, 939, 940 Decree, oracular  328

1092

index

Decree, royal  3, 11, 79, 107, 116, 126, 129, 138, 140, 197 n. 1, 235, 259–350, 434, 562, 612, 617, 624, 626, 653, 659–662, 664, 665, 669, 685, 689, 844, 850, 858, 860, 869 n. 110, 880, 881 n. 134, 892, 1016, 1017, 1057 Decree, sacerdotal  261 Delivery  623, ­655, 697, 702 Demotic  979–980, 1009, 1023, 1025 Desert, dwellers  444, 449, 464, 565 Desert, route  785, 787, 789–790, 792, 795, 797, 800, 812, 820–822, 824, 901–902, 904, 907, 909, 927; cf. also Farshût Road; Girga Road; Marsa Alam Road; Wadi Alamat Road Deserts  113, 149, 157, 179, 197, 199, 204, 210, 414–415, 444, 449, 460, 632, 785–830, 1007 Diplomacy  675, 690, 691–692, 699, 711 n. 319, 714, 855, 867–869, 882, 924 n. 36, 994 Discard, documents  198 n. 3, 206 Distribution  200, 617, 882 Divine Adoratrice  584, 979 Division, military force  400, 413, 414, 419, 439, 698, 871 Domain, agricultural  27–29, 31, 37, 61, 90, 96–97, 111, 116, 122, 125 n. 120, 126, 129, 130, 136, 139, 175, 179–180, 185, 225–226, 389, 609, 627 n. 75, 629–630, 704–705, 725, 747–749, 753, 778, 770, 855, 862, 873, 940; cf. also Estate Domain of Amun  571, 577–579, 582–585, 591–593, 595–596, 605, 607–637, 730, 741, 747, 823, 889, 890–891, 893, 894 n. 166, 977, 1009, 1018–1024 Domain, royal  873–874, 995–1009; cf. also Land, royal; Fields of Pharaoh; Fields of Estates of Pharaoh Domain, temple  607–637, 665, 671, 724–728, 730, 738, 741, 745–746, 749, 753–760, 765, 766–783, 887–893, 999–1001, 1008, 1009–1026, 1059–1061 Donation  61, 73, 108, 113, 612, 621, 636, 895–898, 899 n. 177, 1015–1017, 1047 Donation, land  318–319, 744–745, 750, 758–759, 760–765, 772, 895–898, 899 n. 177, 976, 1000; cf. also Endowment Donation, stela  299, 323–324, 975, 1016–1017 Dyke  352, 880

Education  9, 146, 864, 920–923, 930, 948, 950, 1034, 1036, 1041 Efficiency  497 n. 91 Elephant  909 Elite  6, 155–156, 166, 174, 257, 309, 435, 482 n. 16, 488, 538, 548, 551, 554, 560, 573, 579, 585, 600, 601, 651, 681–682, 708, 713, 845 n. 43, 920–923, 961–962, 1026, 1031–1032, 1034–1038, 1040–1042, 1057, 1064 Elite, Nubian  681–682, 686, 916–917, 919–923, 924–925, 934, 937, 944–950, 952 Elite, provincial  5–6, 86–87, 91, 92, 95, 104, 105, 106, 108, 109, 112, 113, 116, 121, 122, 123, 133, 138, 142, 147, 148, 150–151, 161, 200, 213, 352–360, 383–385, 390, 467, 468, 487–488, 511, 540–541, 548, 549–552, 556, 557–559, 560, 561, 564, 580, 590, 593–594, 598–599, 603–605, 732, 961, 974–977, 979, 982, 984, 1014, 1030, 1032, 1034–1038, 1040, 1043, 1045, 1058; cf. also Family, elite; Family, provincial; Potentate Eloquent Peasant  485, 488, 499 n. 99, 502, 514, 810, 842 n. 37, 859 n. 79, 876, 1030, 1060 Empire  477–478 Emporion  298 Endowment  120, 137, 283, 300, 312–313, 579, 580 n. 173, 608, 612, 618, 624–625, 636, 683, 706, 719, 726, 727, 731, 736, 737, 738, 745, 753, 761, 764–765, 740, 753, 778, 887, 889–890, 894–898, 940, 1038, 1045, 1047, 1058; cf. also Donation, land Entrepreneur  343 Epithet  44, 215 n. 1, 303 Equipment, standard  809, 813 Estate  160, 226, 240, 247–248, 293, 379, 511, 557, 613, 619, 632, 635, 654 n. 59, 721, 724, 730, 738, 739, 750, 759, 765, 778, 887, 897; cf. also Domain, agricultural Ethnicity  520 Ethos, military  406–407, 412, 467, 471, 588, 642 Ethos, nationalistic  443–445, 447, 452 Etiquette  877, 1033 Eulogy, royal  302–304 Exemption  138, 330, 363 n. 58, 489–491, 492, 858, 863, 881 n. 134, 887 n. 148, 892, 1011–1013



index

Expedition  127–128, 162, 179, 197 n. 2, 204 n. 29, 210, 226, 228, 230, 231, 250, 255, 328, 407, 432, 468–469, 537, 538, 623, 632, 692, 787–788, 801–809, 816, 821–822, 903, 908, 950 Faction  3–6, 840 n. 25, 1030–1031, 1039–1041, 1056 Family  416 n. 49, 512–514, 549–551, 701, 889 n. 153, 1050 Family, elite  168–169, 403, 422, 466, 482–484, 573, 577, 579, 582, 585, 587–588, 592–593, 622 n. 57, 633–634, 646–647, 713, 922–923, 929–934, 937, 947, 950, 962–963, 1032, 1039; cf. also Elite Family, provincial  384–385, 557–558, 561, 568–569, 580, 588, 720, 895 n. 169, 1030, 1033, 1038, 1043; cf. also Elite, provincial Family, royal  157, 158, 161, 163, 164, 170, 178–179, 248, 423, 434, 551, 554, 658, 857, 866, 978, 1058 Feudalism  225, 899 Field  10–11, 79, 103, 108, 126–127, 129, 130, 135, 138 n. 180, 139, 210, 218, 226, 234–235, 248, 344, 351, 397, 578, 581, 591, 612, 616, 619, 620, 621, 624, 629, 636, 665, 668, 672, 701, 705, 719–783, 823, 881–882, 891 n. 158, 895, 939, 976, 1016, 1021–1022, 1043, 1053 Field, size  737, 748, 754 Fields of Estates of Pharaoh  778 Fields of Pharaoh  777–778, 872 n. 117 Fighting, tactic  459 Fiscality  cf. Tax Flax  28 n. 53, 1020, 1026 Fleet  cf. Navy Fortress  116, 149, 394, 396, 404, 410, 428, 442, 443, 446, 463, 507, 640, 651, 654, 665, 667 n. 120, 687, 689, 695, 710, 716, 801, 821, 829 n. 190, 905, 913, 917, 923, 924, 935, 943, 981; cf. also Stronghold Fortress, Nubian  208, 211, 227, 251, 257, 357, 379, 425–427, 570, 640, 676, 679, 683, 683, 686, 687, 705, 793, 800, 807, 814 n. 136, 816 Foundation  65, 66, 167, 201, 343, 887–898, 925, 940–941 Fruit  29 Funerary cult, private  201, 524 Funerary cult, royal  182–195

1093

Garrison  397, 404, 413, 414, 435, 446, 553, 559–560, 566, 567–568, 570, 580, 688, 689, 692, 695, 699, 941, 953, 956, 1004 General  364, 394–396, 400, 402, 407, 411, 422, 466, 839, 867–868, 870, 901, 969–971, 984, 987–988, 1027, 1039; cf. also jmj-r mšʿ Gift  882, 891 n. 159, 921, 926, 927, 1022–1023, 1030 God’s Father  578 n. 166, 605, 773, 928 God’s Wife  580, 583, 584, 588, 595 n. 224, 612 n. 15, 956, 961, 978 Gold  134, 328, 581, 585, 592, 596, 597, 619, 623, 625, 682–683, 700 n. 262, 720, 739, 825, 828, 925, 927, 928, 935, 938, 949, 950, 952, 1061 Golden Age  842–843 Government, structure  1–15, 572–576, 872–875, 969–974, 1031, 1063–1066 Governor  13–14, 136, 197–198, 200, 202, 203, 206, 212, 214, 225–226, 227, 228, 230, 247, 423, 556–559, 580, 640, 678–679, 681 n. 173, 711, 789–790, 795 n. 47, 860, 862, 863 n. 94, 873 n. 118, 877, 895 n. 167, 955, 974, 976, 983–985, 1037, 1050; cf. also ḥ q¡, Mayor, Nomarch Governor, residence  413, 420 Grain  63, 109, 137, 138, 162, 192, 212, 213, 224, 250, 434, 617, 621, 625, 626, 629, 651, 661, 671, 701–702, 704–705, 706, 738, 739, 740, 742, 746, 823, 881, 891 n. 159, 909, 983, 1000, 1062 Granary  58, 59–70, 73, 79, 82, 90, 167, 169, 173, 194, 211, 216, 238, 249, 358, 426, 578, 579, 616, 625, 627 n. 75, 628, 635, 669–675, 686, 702, 703–704, 715, 730, 737, 775, 869, 881; cf. also Silo Great Chief of the Ma 958, 975–977, 1058 Greek, troops  991–994 Guard  877, 969 Guard, royal  658–664 “Hall of Horus”  135, 875 n. 124 Harbour  404, 411, 431, 433, 435, 542, 856, 909, 1006; cf. also Mooring post Harem  629, 739, 776, 856, 859 n. 77, 872, 874 n. 122, 942, 1035, 1039 Harvest  205, 328, 719, 726, 730, 742, 746, 748–749, 776, 869, 882, 1000, 1019–1022, 1053

1094

index

Heir, crown  838, 857 Herder  498–500, 889 n.153 Hides  127, 135, 665, 868, 871 Hierarchy  37, 106, 487, 717, 847–853, 866, 920 High priest  258 History, Egyptian view of  853–854 Hittites  408, 413, 416, 417, 418, 477, 647, 690, 711 n. 319 Horse  402, 403, 405, 414, 476–478, 703, 706, 710, 716, 740, 871, 901, 939 Horticulture  29 House  194, 357, 379, 381, 684, 709, 929 House of Life  135, 387, 873, 1039 Household  39, 89 n. 7, 155, 157, 158, 160, 200, 209, 247, 350, 359, 435, 498, 500, 512–515, 533, 560, 613, 709, 881, 897, 1008, 1042–1044, 1048, 1049 n. 57, 1050–1051 Household, royal  37, 46, 54, 82, 434, 444, 464, 872, 995–1001, 1016 Hurrian  477, 712 Hyksos  423, 436, 442, 475, 522, 526, 531, 535–536, 539, 541–546, 547, 554, 559, 561, 565, 566–567, 570, 580, 654, 708, 719, 720 n. 2, 722, 737, 833, 924 Illegitimate ruler  265 Incense  430, 616, 620, 623, 628, 629, 767, 975, 990, 1006, 1027 Income  355, 745, 755, 759, 772, 775, 779, 894 n. 166, 898, 1045, 1053, 1057, 1059; cf. also Wages Inefficiency  12, 890 Infantry  396, 397, 401, 413–414, 424, 428, 433, 453, 986–988 Inheritance  721, 736–737, 738, 759, 895 n. 169, 897–898 Inheritance, of functions 593–594, 603, 604–605, 713, 963, 1026 Integration, territory  792, 813, 817 Intelligence service  687–688 Inundation  344–349, 352, 796, 880, 882 Inventory  11, 200, 207, 208, 503, 626–627, 629, 807, 838, 868, 891, 1000, 1023 Irrigation  344–352, 722, 733, 880, 902, 906–907 Island  873, 1000 Jewish  1004 Judean  994

Judge  185, 230, 236 n. 122, 859, 974 Justice  9–10, 57, 141, 167, 169, 201, 223, 257, 558, 733, 833, 849, 859–861, 879, 881–882, 1062 Ka-chapel  301 Kap  237, 243, 586–587, 1041 Kemit, Book of  864 n. 97 Khato-land  629, 630, 636, 723, 725, 731, 738, 739, 741, 745–747, 752, 754–759, 778, 763, 770, 777, 778–779, 782, 873 n. 120 King as a Sun Priest  831, 835 King’s Son  423, 437, 466, 532, 534, 537–538, 544–546, 548, 553–555, 556, 559, 563, 565, 568, 578 n. 167, 644, 676, 858, 867, 870, 1056; cf. also s¡ nswt King’s Son of Kush  cf. Viceroy of Kush King’s Wife, domain  774, 776 Kingship  154–156, 166, 264, 480–484, 609, 642, 646–647, 713, 857–859, 893–894; election to 810 n. 25 Kinship  350, 467, 497–498, 514, 554, 835 Königsnovelle  3, 302–304, 306–308, 443, 482, 971 Label  20, 24–25, 35, 158–159, 182, 209, 211–212 Labour  203, 205, 210, 231, 233–234, 327–334, 739, 748, 834; cf. also Work, compulsory Labour, division  37 Land, leasing  1009, 1018–1026, 1027 Land, register  cf. Cadaster Land, royal  770, 782, 1001 Land, tenure  773 Land, transfer  759–760, 782 Land, typology  722 Landholder  721, 724–728, 731, 736, 734, 749–752, 754–757, 769–770, 772–774, 775, 881 Landholding  719–721, 746 Landing place  cf. Mooring post Landscape  92, 129, 343 Law  219, 259, 266, 271–272, 277, 833–834, 849, 858, 861, 864, 877, 878, 879 n. 130, 887, 888, 892 Leader of the Fleet  968, 981–983, 997, 1010 Legitimacy  154, 163



index

Letter  199–200, 202, 203, 205, 208, 211, 213, 335, 716, 820 Libyan  414–415, 417–420, 651, 689, 829 n. 190, 903, 935, 958–959, 961, 963, 974–977, 984 “Libyan family” scene  470 Libyarch  908 Linen  75, 623; cf. also Textiles List  cf. Inventory List, personnel  249, 881, 1050 Literacy  10–12, 208, 211, 844, 920–923, 924 Logistics  405, 410, 415, 428 n. 73, 429, 433, 468, 477, 669–675, 686–687, 691–693, 700–708, 805, 807, 821–822, 856, 996, 1001–1002 Ma  651 Maat  13, 841–844, 846, 851, 853–854, 857, 862, 1056 Mace  453, 471, 477 Management  996–997 Manager  848–849, 1027 Manager of the Antechamber  973 Manager of the Fields  999–1001 March-day  405, 827 Mark, pot  27, 816 Market  343, 782–783, 883 Marriage  389 Marriage, royal  6, 112, 138, 150, 170, 172, 399, 434, 551–552, 557–558, 561, 599, 691–692, 931, 961, 963, 1034, 1063; Hittite marriage 692, 712 Marsh dwellers  222, 227, 529 Marshes  118 n. 106, 130, 149, 221–222, 499 n. 99, 665, 796 Mason, inscription  182 Mayor  377–381, 385–386, 391–392, 396, 488, 580, 587, 588, 590, 594, ­611, 618, 674, 683, 691, 732, 733, 739–740, 763, 818, 820, 882, 886–887, 935, 937, 958, 961, 962, 1056, 1061–1062; cf. also Village governor Medjay  398, 454, 459, 465, 520, 585, 589, 662, 668, 673, 687, 695, 709, 796, 810 n. 116, 819, 827, 931 Mercenaries  991–994, 1004; cf. also Aegean, troops; Carian, troops; Greek, troops; Nubian, mercenaries & soldiers Merit  675, 1029 Merykare, Teaching to  440–442, 445, 497, 503, 518 n. 184, 1032 Meshwesh  400 n. 15

1095

Messenger  128, 135, 202 n. 22, 205–206, 685, 686–688, 691, 693, 695, 703, 785, 807, 818, 869, 877, 880, 890 Metals, precious  127, 135 Migdol  701 Militarization  601 Militarization, provinces  566, 569, 576, 580 Mine-land  629, 630, 636, 723, 724 n. 20, 731, 741, 753, 757, 770, 778–779, 873 n. 120 Mining  311, 788, 800, 802–806, 825, 828, 901, 909, 927, 938, 950 Mobile populations  498, 950 Monarchy  833–855 Money  883 Mooring post  90, 774, 776–777, 856, 1054; cf. also Harbour Mycenaean  417 Names, list  200, 209 Navy  425, 429–432, 433, 436–437, 438, 440, 477, 648–658, 699, 716, 736, 972, 981, 983, 986, 995, 990, 999, 1027 Neferty, Prophecy of  442 Nehesy  459 Network, administrative  89–90, 829 Nile, travel  342 Nobility  87, 407, 433, 920–923, 970–971 Nomads  cf. Mobile populations; Herders Nomarch  13–14, 85, 139, 144, 170, 173, 199, 341, 346, 350, 355–356, 359, 361–362, 424, 448, 758, 1006–1008 Nome  38, 42, 85, 351, 353, 361, 365 Nubian  149, 415, 426, 436 n. 87, 444, 448–450, 451, 453, 461, 788, 793, 797, 800, 806–807, 827–828 Nubian, of the desert  797 Nubian, mercenaries & soldiers  450–454, 458–460, 461, 463–464, 566, 632, 641 n. 9, 686, 794, 1002 Oases, route  468–469 Oases, Nubian  935 Oases, Western  199, 203, 443, 461, 787, 791–793, 797, 812–813, 818, 829, 888 n. 149, 901–909, 985, 1007 Offerings  191, 258, 301, 623, 625–628, 823 n. 170, 837, 847, 869–870, 882, 894, 1022, 1043–1045 Offerings, reversion  764, 847 Office  878, 880; in temple  1018

1096

index

Official  394, 395, 399–400, 403, 407, 424, 434, 487, 567–569, 582, 585, 657, 660, 674, 693, 709, 729, 738, 773, 806, 851, 866, 871, 877–880, 912, 921, 929, 942, 952, 1036, 1046, 1050 Oil  28, 75, 76, 702, 1024 Onayna, institution  776–777 Onchsheshonqy, Instruction of  969, 972, 1011, 1030 Onomasticon of Amenemope  394–399, 519, 831, 866–875, 886, 889 Opet-festival  394, 856, 929, 935 Oracle  275, 836, 840, 1058 Orality  205 Orchard  71 Order  154; cf. also Maat Outpost  793, 813, 819, 820, 905 Palace  6–8, 51, 71, 78, 87, 95, 103, 133–135, 158, 161, 168, 207, 211, 226, 229, 237–247, 249, 253–254, 358, 420, 432, 455, 487 n. 43, 493, 504–507, 544, 548–556, 557, 567, 583, 586, ­658, 661, 674, 686, 695, 850, 855–856, 866 n. 101, 874, 878, 906, 922, 936, 942, 1032, 1039–1040, 1045 Pan Grave culture  454, 459  Papyrus  301, 611–612, 630, 860 n. 82, 948, 966 Papyrus Harris I  608, 615, 727, 745–746, 750, 755, 757, 761, 769, 771–773, 780, 844, 845, 1053 Papyrus Wilbour  608, 629–630, 633 n. 92, 719–783, 881, 889 n. 150, 893, 895 n. 167 Pasture land  93, 108, 130, 131, 319, 499–500, 871, 934 Patrol  397, 426, 427, 441, 801, 806, 807, 812, 819–820, 827 Patronage  109, 144, 392, 502, 717, 922, 1014, 1029, 1030, 1042–1056, 1059–1062, 1063–1066 Patronymic  209 Peasant  126, 203, 349, 491, 495, 500–501, 743, 884, 889 n. 153, 1054 Peleshet  421 Persian  904, 907, 965, 973, 981, 985, 996, 998, 1001 n. 134, 1004, 1027 Petition  859, 877, 879, 974 Petition of Peteise  973, 982, 984, 999–1001, 1010–1015, 1059–1060 Phoenician  990, 992, 994 Phyle  181, 184, 185–186, 190, 192, 193, 194, 201, 492

Piracy  871, 990 Plough  90, 328, 882, 1018–1019 Police  792–793, 799–798, 809–812, 819, 833, 878, 988, 1062–1063 Poor  500–501 Potentate  9, 12, 14, 86, 89, 91, 93, 112, 138, 139, 141–144, 150, 354, 392, 410, 860, 1032, 1034, 1036, 1049–1050, 1053–1056 Power, delegation of  862, 879, 885, 1032 Priest  105, 108, 128, 132, 157, 180, 183–195, 258, 338, 343, 364, 395, 399, 494 n. 74, 584, 659, 753, 755, 763, 819, 859, 860, 869, 873, 940–941, 962, 983, 999–1001, 1008, 1010–1011, 1018–1026, 1035, 1039, 1052, 1055, 1057–1058 Priest, High  421, 562–563, 578, 584, 587, 591, 594, 595, 603, 611–612, 619, 622, 623, 631–632, 633–634, 636–637, 645, 647, 666, 755, 823, 889, 901, 921, 923, 928, 930 n. 61, 932 n. 71, 953, 959, 961–962, 1038 Princedom  924, 925, 944–947, 968, 975–976 Princes  36, 37, 150, 164, 557, 558, 690, 710, 943, 944–949, 1034, 1036, 1041 Prisoner, war  871, 873, 895, 1019 Production  149, 430–431, 848–849 Production, agricultural  142, 180, 249, 250 Property  38, 689, 709, 724, 752–755, 759–760, 860, 873, 878, 881, 895–898, 1007 Property, transfer  759–760, 782, 887 Prophet  cf. Priest Proto-Sinaitic writing  808–809 Province  5, 13, 85–151, 341–392, 886, 1029, 1034–1038 Provision(s)  81, 128, 183, 243–244, 323, 405, 626, 656–657, 669–675, 700–708, 701, 704–706, 716, 766, 775, 801, 813, 816, 881, 1054; cf. also Equipment, standard Ptahotep, Teaching of  263, 843, 1029, 1032 Punishment  266–267, 315, 329, 668 n. 123, 693, 743, 892, 1000 Pyramid  129, 172, 177, 180–181, 177–195, 217, 221, 224, 231, 392, 345, 428 Pyramid, small step  23, 92, 93 Pyramid temple  cf. Temple, pyramid



index

Pyramid town  cf. Town, pyramid Pyramid Texts  187 n. 49 Qahaq  400 n. 15 Qanat  907 Quarry  179, 206, 231, 250, 319, 389, 463, 669, 671, 672–674, 682, 716, 802–806, 807, 821, 906, 917, 995, 1007 Raid  417, 797, 829 Ramesseum  62 n. 101, 614, 625–627, 667, 713, 855 Rations  135, 204 n. 29, 700–708, 716, 1021 Rebellion  947, 944, 951, 994, 1004 Reckon  134, 204, 212–213, 223–224, 234, 510–518, 824, 983, 996–997, 1008; cf. also jp Recruit  449; cf. also nfr-recruit Redistribution  36, 38, 47, 90, 157, 162, 175, 775, 846, 849, 855, 880, 882–886, 890, 893, 894, 909, 939 Reedcutter  499 n. 99 Regency  862 Regionalism  342 Remuneration  77, 79, 82, 1018, 1021–1023; cf. also Income; Reward, Wages Rent  1018, 1022 Repast, royal  81 Requisition  301, 327–333, 881 n. 134 Residence, royal  50–59, 95, 134, 137, 138, 154, 170, 173, 197, 209, 233, 301, 354, 507, 632, 634, 649, 653, 657, 658, 659, 676, 680, 682, 687, 688, 690, 702, 715, 740, 741, 813, 855, 872, 878, 959, 974; cf. also h̠ nw Residence in Asia, Egyptian  692–693, 694–695, 702, 704 Resources  715, 842, 846, 848, 849, 868, 880, 882–886, 887, 888, 890, 891, 893, 898, 967, 1064 Revenue  70, 71, 79, 172, 203, 323, 491, 609, 725, 738, 741, 753, 879, 928, 995, 1000, 1008, 1026 Reversion  cf. Offerings, reversion Reward  191, 294, 661, 682, 700 n. 262, 707, 720, 722, 724, 734, 736, 828, 873, 926, 989; cf. also Income; Remuneration; Wages River  403, 797 Route  559, 686–687, 694, 990; cf. also Desert route Route, to clear  812

1097

Salary  cf. Wages; cf. also Income Satire of Trades  499 Scarab seal  223, 250–251, 380, 531 n. 21 Scout  414 Scribe  12, 38–39, 41, 43, 67, 68–69, 75, 78, 109, 110, 113, 114, 126, 130, 141, 158–159, 169, 179, 180, 185, 203, 219, 224, 232, 234, 280, 351, 487, 527, 537, 591, 622, 631, 680, 682, 741, 742, 755, 808, 823–824, 848, 859, 861, 862 n. 92, 864, 867, 871, 877, 887, 903, 908, 920, 924, 935, 938, 973, 980, 996–997, 1000, 1008, 1019–1020, 1024, 1055, 1061 Sea Peoples  415, 416–420, 650, 689 Seal  26, 28, 29, 35, 86, 89, 156, 197, 198, 201, 204–205, 208–210, 212, 227, 232, 250–252, 290–294, 524, 526–530, 532, 534–538, 540–541, 814–816, 865, 878–880, 929 Sed-festival  35, 159, 592 Semna dispatches  816 Senti-official  996, 1000–1001 Serapeum  288, 308 Serekh  787 Serf  294, 329, 357, 434, 1042, 1050, 1051–1052; cf. also Slave “Sesostris Romance”  845 n. 43 Settlement  180, 194, 203, 344, 356, 381, 496, 498, 506, 511, 651, 689, 797 n. 56, 799 n. 69, 800, 906, 909 Shabti  493, 710, 997 Sherden  398, 408, 415–416, 417, 420, 477, 651, 754 Ship  89, 425, 431, 439, 463, 465, 612, 648–658, 665, 666, 704, 705, 706, 716, 719, 824, 891 n. 158, 991, 995, 997–999, 997–999, 1001 Ship, typology  461, 999 Shipwrecked Sailor  372, 433 Siege  472 Silo  62, 66, 67, 90, 212, 704, 705, 1044; cf. also Granary; mḫ r and sh̠ rw Silver  623, 625, 628, 983 Sinuhe  256, 292, 289, 294, 335, 342, 642 Sisebek  970 Slaughterhouse  48 Slave  328, 397, 399, 434, 461, 720–721, 847 n. 47, 1052; cf. also Serf Solar temple  cf. Temple, sun Soldier  888, 899; cf. also wʿw Son, royal  36–37, 46, 166, 178; cf. also s¡ nswt “King’s son”

1098

index

Spear  471, 473 Spearman  458, 461 Spy  cf. Intelligence service Stable  399, 658, 922–923, 1016 State  153–156, 831, 832–855, 883, 899 Stato Civile  881 Statue, cult  192 Statue, royal  623, 625, 761–762, 764–765, 889–890, 891 n. 159, 895, 999–1000, 1038, 1047 Stèle Juridique  233, 293, 366 n. 70, 547, 548, 859 n. 80, 862 n. 92, 865 n. 99, 1037 Storehouse  89–90, 128–129, 180, 200, 207, 208, 211, 626, 674, 702, 819 n. 154, 878 Strategoi  908 Strike  845–846 Stronghold  398, 408, 416, 651, 686, 701, 789, 962; cf. also Fortress Succession, throne  838–840 Sword, sickle-shaped  393, 477 Syrian  618 Tablet, writing  197, 198, 204, 205, 206, 207, 210, 213, 470, 891 n. 158, 906 n. 36 Tax  12, 27, 56, 129, 134, 135, 143, 149–150, 157, 163, 173, 229, 284, 301, 302, 323, 486, 487, 490, 491, 494, 496, 499, 501, 503, 504, 618, 649, 665, 682, 685, 696, 692, 698, 702, 710, 714, 719, 737, 743–745, 748–749, 751, 773, 791, 795, 810 n. 118, 822, 865, 869, 882, 897, 913, 930, 967, 983, 990, 995, 1000–1002, 1006, 1006, 1008–1009, 1010–1015, 1019, 1024–1027, 1054, 1060 Teaching, literary  1032 Team  97, 127, 181, 182 Tell el-Yahudiyah ware  475, 535, 544 Temple  13, 92, 258, 320–322, 504–507, 509, 515–516, 571, 602, 605, 607–637, 654, 659, 665, 744–746, 766–767, 844, 846, 859, 869 n. 110, 871, 885–891, 902, 906–909, 917–919, 922, 926–928, 935, 937, 940, 971, 996, 1001, 1004, 1006, 1007–1027, 1057–1061 Temple, administration  578 Temple, festival  190–192 Temple, funerary  492 n. 70, 507, 592, 607, 615–616, 617, 621 n. 56, 626, 628–631, 634, 741, 745, 749, 753–754,

764–765, 768, 774, 777, 781–782, 855, 888–896, 1041, 1045 Temple, inspection  856, 892 n. 162 Temple, interdependency  765–769 Temple, Nubian  683, 898, 914–915, 939, 940–941; cf. also Temple-town, Nubian Temple, pyramid  177–195, 197 Temple, provincial  92, 98, 107, 108, 109, 113, 117, 120, 127, 129, 133, 137, 138, 144, 167, 173, 201, 363, 374, 386, 388, 490–492, 507–509, 510, 558, 559, 562–565, 570, 593–594, 600, 629, 760, 801, 967, 985, 1007, 1010 Temple, sun  169, 182 n. 19, 183 Temple-town, Nubian  914–915, 919, 941, 952 Textiles  24, 26, 43, 127, 128, 192, 211, 244, 245, 1026; cf. also Linen Thebes Victorious, motif  443–445, 447 Title  6–8, 15, 44–45, 371, 966 Title, function  6–7, 157, 215 n. 1, 216, 372–373 Title, institutional  157 Title, rank  6, 8, 156–157, 183, 216, 219, 253, 372, 920 Tjehenu  904 Tjemehou  796, 904 Tokens  205, 209 Toparch  909 Tower  116, 807 Town  153, 233, 351, 356, 364, 368, 371, 386, 391, 442–444, 488, 509–511, 535, 556, 559, 560, 567–568, 570, 576, 580, 615, 616, 618, 639, 640, 661, 675, 676, 683, 721, 732–733, 734, 866, 914, 917, 918, 925, 937, 955, 1049; cf. also Settlement; Temple-town, Nubian; Village Town, pyramid  177–195, 327, 357, 378–379, 506 Town, regiment  424 Trade  42, 86, 132, 151, 389, 426, 428 n. 73, 431–432, 461, 467–468, 475–476, 535–536, 539, 559, 648, 650 n. 46, 683, 692, 715, 788, 794–795, 821–822, 878, 883–884, 901, 904, 909, 916–917, 924 n. 36, 939, 945, 951, 975, 990, 1002, 1006, 1027 Trader  343, 692, 939, 990, 1024, 1057 n. 91 Trader, itinerant  499 n. 99 Transhumance  130



index

Transport  135, 422, 653, 668, 679, 824, 884, 907 Travel  210, 342, 576 n. 161, 788, 855–856 Treasurer  110, 136, 394, 538, 540, 926 Treasury  15, 58, 59, 61, 70–77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 131, 157, 167, 211, 215, 223, 238, 240, 245–246, 527–529, 532, 615, 620, 626, 628, 631, 635, 667, 672, 673, 675, 682, 683, 697, 710, 715, 716, 731, 736, 737, 739, 740, 767, 774, 775–776, 778, 801–803, 806, 814, 816, 868, 878, 881, 938, 995, 1035, 1039 Tree  882 Tribute  430, 649, 654, 682, 685, 692, 697, 699, 714, 715, 716, 739, 791, 828, 882, 913, 935, 943–944, 947, 986 Trieres  991 “Two bodies”, theory of  847 Usurpation  5, 364, 661, 841 n. 31, 904, 999–1000, 1034 Vessel, stone  105–106 Veteran  719, 721, 724, 737 Viceroy of Kush  366, 399, 409, 421, 554 n. 100, 577, 592, 654, 665, 676–686, 676–686, 690, 693, 695, 711, 714, 824–828, 865 n. 99, 869, 902, 912, 913, 916, 922, 925–936, 938–939, 941, 943, 951–955 Village  29, 38, 49, 65, 203, 490, 492, 497, 508–509, 513, 679, 755, 859–861, 880, 886–887, 897, 989, 1014, 1016, 1053, 1055 Village, governor  89, 136, 139–140, 147, 206, 498, 739, 882, 886, 944–945, 1053, 1055; cf. also Mayor Vineyard  71, 621, 702 Viticulture  30, 71 Vizier  10, 15, 32 n. 91, 37, 46–47, 50, 63, 67, 68, 74, 79, 119, 128, 133–136, 141–144, 146, 150, 153, 157, 163–164, 166–167, 168, 169, 170–172, 174, 178–179, 185, 215–216, 221, 224, 227, 228–233, 234, 236, 239, 248, 251–254, 274, 294, 364, 366, 368, 387–388, 394, 395, 432, 466, 481, 533, 536–537, 540, 548–552, 555–556, 577, 582, 583, 585, 588, 590, 595, 633, 634, 644, 645, 652, 655, 663, 667 n. 120, 716, 720, 728–736, 742, 744, 802, 853, 856,

1099

858–859, 861–863, 865–868, 872, 875, 875–887, 889, 892, 922, 926, 927, 961, 963, 974, 979, 999, 1030, 1034, 1035, 1038, 1046, 1061–1063 Vizier, Duties of  128–129, 143, 229, 231, 233, 365–369, 425 n. 66, 481, 487–488, 498, 508 n. 139, 652, 663, 721–723, 728–736, 743, 763, 776, 810 n. 117, 831, 858 n. 74, 859 n. 79, 861, 865 n. 99, 875 n. 124, 877, 890 n. 133, 876–887 Vizier, Instructions  831 Wages  423, 657, 660, 720, 865, 879, 1018, 1021–1023; cf. also Income; Remuneration; Reward War, cost  413, 419 Warehouse  cf. Storehouse Warlord  149, 975 Water, depot  821 Water, rights  351 Weaver  618 Well  410, 686, 704, 793 n. 37, 821–822, 902 Will  202 Wine  22 n. 18, 29, 76, 324, 621, 623, 628, 662, 702, 706, 903; cf. also Vineyard, Viticulture Women, royal  579–580; cf. also Harim Wood  178 Woodland  93 Works  (royal works, building, etc.) 135, 164, 172, 178–179, 216–217, 227, 231, 240, 407, 491, 494, 509, 518, 586, 591, 592, 668, 671–675, 867, 928, 941, 1040; cf. also Labour Work, compulsory  233–234, 327, 343, 484, 491–492, 493, 508–509, 511–512, 665, 668, 673, 679, 690, 723, 740, 743, 758, 791, 817, 880, 881 n. 134, 1045, 1051 Workforce  116, 134–135, 143, 144, 167, 177, 180, 181, 182, 193, 205, 210, 227, 390, 395, 494, 511, 540, 653, 667, 669, 672–675, 679, 705, 753, 766, 797, 799–800, 805, 817, 821, 880, 889 n. 153, 905, 1019, 1025, 1049–1050 Workshop  180, 206, 209, 229, 559, 560, 616, 617, 626, 628, 635, 658, 941, 946, 948 Yield  75