Enigmatic Writing in the Egyptian New Kingdom I: Revealing, Transforming, and Display in Egyptian Hieroglyphs [1 ed.] 3110683547, 9783110683547

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Enigmatic Writing in the Egyptian New Kingdom I

Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Beihefte

Herausgegeben von Susanne Bickel, Hans-Werner Fischer-Elfert, Antonio Loprieno, Stefan Pfeiffer, Sebastian Richter Beirat John Baines, Elke Blumenthal, Julia Budka, Richard Parkinson, Kim Ryholt, Stephan Seidlmayer, Jean Winand

Band 12/1

Enigmatic Writing in the Egyptian New Kingdom I Revealing, transforming, and display in Egyptian hieroglyphs Edited by David Klotz and Andréas Stauder

Printed with the support of eikones – Zentrum für die Theorie und Geschichte des Bildes (Universität Basel)

ISBN 978-3-11-068354-7 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-068388-2 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-068398-1 ISSN 2198-5790 Library of Congress Control Number: 2020930386 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2020 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Typesetting: Meta Systems Publishing & Printservices GmbH, Wustermark Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

Preface The present publication has it origin in a workshop held in Basel on 23–24 May 2015 under the auspices of the National Center of Competence and Research “eikones – iconic criticism” (Swiss National Science Foundation and Universität Basel). Presenting participants in addition to the authors of this publication were Philippe Collombert, Antonio Loprieno, and Wolfgang Behr. We express our very warm thanks to Ralph Ubl, director of the NCCR “eikones,” and to Susanne Bickel, chair of Egyptology and of the Departement Altertumswissenschaften, both Universität Basel, for their continuous support and hosting of the event. Our thanks go further to the editors of Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache, Beihefte for accepting this work in their series. We remain particularly grateful to Ralph Ubl and “eikones” for generous help with the publication costs. Paris/Boston, 3 May 2019

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-202

Contents Andréas Stauder 1 Introduction John Coleman Darnell Ancient Egyptian Cryptography: Graphic Hermeneutics David Klotz The Enigmatic Frieze of Ramesses II at Luxor Temple

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Andrés Diego Espinel In Tombs, Temples and on Scribal Palettes: Contexts and Functions of Private 101 Cryptography during the Mid-Late Eighteenth Dynasty Joshua Aaron Roberson A Brief Excursus on the Mechanisms of Cryptographic Sign Substitution Joshua Aaron Roberson The ‘Jackal Hymn of the West’ in the Book of the Night

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Daniel A. Werning Semiotic Aspects of Alienated and Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld 195 Books of the New Kingdom Andréas Stauder The Visual Otherness of the Enigmatic Text in Some Netherworld Books 249 of the New Kingdom

Andréas Stauder

Introduction Egyptian enigmatic writing (also referred as “cryptography,” see below) can be broadly defined as a variety of extended practices of hieroglyphic writing that are set against immediate decoding, foreground the iconicity inherent in hieroglyphic writing, and invite a more absorbed or experiential engagement by the beholder/ reader. Through these delays, enigmatic writing can reveal meaning beyond the linguistic sequence; in its particular visual presence and iconicity, it can be boldly affirmative and even transformative. The present set of two volumes (Studies and Lexicon) concerns enigmatic writing at the time of its richest development, the New Kingdom (c. 1550–1070 bce).1 In individual groups of signs or extending over the whole inscription, enigmatic writing is then found in a variety of settings corresponding to three main traditions: royal settings, with, notably, monumental full-figured friezes in temples and over the entrance of royal tombs; non-royal settings, with enigmatic groups of signs in texts inscribed notably in the entrances of funerary chapels and on scribal palettes; and (sections of) Netherworld Books and related cosmographic compositions inscribed in enigmatic writing, mainly but not exclusively in sealed-off royal tombs. The traditions of enigmatic writing associated with these settings are diverse yet interrelated; as a whole, the phenomenon represents one major dimension of New Kingdom written culture. The pragmatics of enigmatic writing vary with settings and people. In some of its settings, enigmatic writing is ostentatiously displayed, while in others it is withdrawn from general visibility. In the sealed-off underground appartements of royal tombs, enigmatic writing contributed transforming the place in which it was inscribed. When seen, enigmatic writing could create a complicity with the beholder able to solve its challenges and appreciate the wit and ingenuity that had gone into making it, and further serve as an index of a restricted in-group sociology and identity.2 While enigmatic writing excludes through its difficulty, it invites through its bold visual presence. There were various levels of participation in enigmatic writing: as the monumental display of Ramses II’s enigmatic frieze on the architrave of the forecourt of Luxor temple demonstrates,3 enigmatic writing was also geared at broader audiences.

1 General introductions to New Kingdom enigmatic writing: Darnell 2004, 14–34; Roberson 2013, 3–8; Klotz, this volume; and Darnell, this volume. For enigmatic writing in the broader frame of “visuelle Poesie” over the long history of Egyptian hieroglyphic writing, see Morenz 2008. 2 Diego Espinel, this volume; Werning, this volume. 3 Compare Klotz, this volume, observing that the signs were in part selected in relation to their monumental size and that to how they would be seen from the ground. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-001

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Hieroglyphic writing, in general, emphasizes the iconicity of the signs. Enigmatic writing, in its different instantiations, pushes this emphasis even further. It favors signs that have a high visual resolution, are highly iconic, carry culturally encyclopedic meaning, and/or are full-figured.4 Through its concentration on such signs, compounded with the deconventionalization of spellings, enigmatic writing comes with a visual otherness – particularly manifest in display settings, yet characteristic of enigmatic writing in general including in the Netherworld Books. As much as any added difficulty in decoding, this visual otherness arrests the eye, foregrounds writing as such, and causes the beholder to engage more deeply with the thickness of writing.5 Supplemental domains of signification, latent in regular hieroglyphic writing, can thus be revealed, beyond the sequential articulations of language.6 The heightened iconicity, visual otherness, and delayed reading associated with enigmatic writing also ground its performative dimensions. In appropriate contexts, such as on monumental friezes in sacral spaces, royal titularies inscribed in enigmatic writing could thus be seen as evoking the consubstantiality of the king with the gods, inscribing his name into the divine realm and turning it into a solar icon.7 In the Netherworld Books, the visual otherness of enigmatic writing could become indexical of the otherness of a space-time that was conceived of as štȝ, difficult to apprehend.8 In certain contexts, it was the enigmatic character itself of enigmatic writing that could become a – necessarily oblique – representation of domains of signification that are unknown, or otherwise impossible to represent directly.9 Interest in Egyptian enigmatic writing goes back to Champollion himself.10 The term “cryptography” is associated with the name of Étienne Drioton whose collections of inscriptions and early studies, beginning in the 1930’s were foundational in establishing this field of study.11 “Enigmatic writing” is the earlier term, harkening back to pioneers such as Franz Lauth and Charles Goodwin in the 1860’s and 1870’s.12 It has been more recently revived by John Darnell, who criticized tenets of Drioton’s method, notably the unchecked use of the acrophonic principle, and initiated a renewal in studies of enigmatic writing bearing on both its controlled deci-

4 Klotz, this volume; Stauder, this volume. 5 In this sense, compare also Assmann’s (1994) interpretation of Egyptian enigmatic writing as a “Kalligraphie,” with the deconventionalization of writing resulting in the beholder/reader getting stuck in the thicket of the signs (“im Dickicht der Zeichen”). 6 Darnell, this volume; Klotz, this volume; Morenz 2008. 7 Klotz, this volume; Darnell, this volume; Pries 2016. 8 Darnell 2004, 471–482; this volume. 9 Darnell, this volume. See also the arguably intended suspension of decidability in the graphic double entendres in the sculptor Irtysen’s presentation of his craft as restricted knowledge (c. 2000 bce): Stauder 2018. 10 Overview of early Wissenchaftsgechichte: Morenz 2008, 18–23. 11 Drioton 1933; 1940; and many other studies references throughout the present volume. 12 Lauth 1866; Goodwin 1873.

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pherment and the interpretation of its high-cultural determinants.13 While rooted in this more recent, post-Driotonian, tradition, authors in the present volume use one or the other term. “Cryptography” remains well entrenched, but is technically a misnomer because enigmatic writing is not directed at “hiding” any denotational contents.14 Nor is it “encrypted” in the technical sense that a “key” would be generally needed to decode it: while a regularized “enigmatic alphabet” is used in some contexts, decoding of enigmatic writing more broadly is based mostly on a consideration of the various possible associative dimensions of hieroglyphic signs, including the cultural knowledge embedded in these, and taking into account further hints and cues that lie in the enigmatic text itself. Another term and approach to enigmatic writing, with broader scope in time and phenomena considered, is Ludwig Morenz’ “visuelle Poesie”: along with the sacral contexts of many such practices, this emphasizes visually ludic dimensions, supplemental meaning, the beholder’s fascinated gaze, and the interactional dimensions of the encounter with enigmatic writing.15 The studies in the present volume illustrate the diversity of traditions and practices of enigmatic writing in the New Kingdom (comprehensive overview by Darnell): in royal full-figured monumental friezes (Klotz), in private settings of the Eighteenth Dynasty (Diego Espinel),16 and in the Netherworld Books (Roberson, Werning, Stauder). Across these domains, they illustrate various approaches to enigmatic writing. The practice and method of decipherment are demonstrated in studies of Ramses’ II enigmatic frieze in the Luxor temple (Klotz) and of the Jackal Hymn in the Tomb of Ramses VI (Roberson). These show how proposed readings are validated based on textual parallels and on established principles of substitution and derivation (further, Roberson, Excursus). A sophisticated semiotic analysis of these principles of derivation and substitution is offered by Werning. Moving beyond the individual signs, the enigmatic text is considered in its specific visual dimensions and otherness (Klotz, Stauder, for two different traditions of enigmatic writing) and in its effects in bringing about a delayed and experiential reading (Darnell, Stauder). Addressing the high-cultural functions of enigmatic writing in its various settings, Darnell offers a general hermeneutics of enigmatic writing as transformative and as expressing significations that are liminal in nature.

13 Darnell 2004. The “acrophonic debate” has continued after Darnell’s study, e.g., in Morenz 2005 (allowing acrophony) and Werning 2008 and Klotz 2012 (criticizing it); see further Roberson, “A Brief Excursus,” in this volume (critically). 14 Similarly, Pries 2016, 468–469; Morenz 2008, 17–23; Klotz, this volume, introduction; with a view on the much later “graphic alchemy” at Esna, Sauneron 1982, 51–53. 15 Morenz 2008, and various studies by the same author. In this tradition, also, e.g., Arpagaus 2014. 16 Ramesside non-royal contexts were presented at the Basel conference (23–24 May 2015) by Philippe Collombert, who is preparing a separate study with a focus on the learned cénacle around Khaemwaset.

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The second volume of the set, A Lexicon of Ancient Egyptian Cryptography of the New Kingdom (Roberson, with contributions by Klotz), includes a comprehensive list of enigmatic values found in texts of the New Kingdom, with indications of their derivation, textual attestations, and when necessary references to the discussion. The Lexicon, including its introduction, is presented as a handbook for further research and to make the study of enigmatic writing more broadly accessible. Collectively, these studies and the Lexicon illustrate the diversity of practices and traditions of enigmatic writing in the New Kingdom. They demonstrate that enigmatic writing is not some arcane and recondite tradition divorced from “regular” hieroglyphic writing. Enigmatic writing is based on the very principles of regular hieroglyphic writing, extending these. Set against instrumentalist ideologies of writing understood as an ideally transparent vehicle for linguistic meaning,17 hieroglyphic writing, in general, is characterized by an excess: in the iconic load of its signs, in the cultural significations embedded in these, and in its aesthetic and virtuosic dimensions.18 Enigmatic writing pushes these very dimensions even further, delving deep into what makes a hieroglyph sign. A higher register of hieroglyphic writing, it is even more excessive: visually present, semantically dense, virtuosic. Through its enhanced iconicity, its visual otherness, and the resistance it affords to immediate decoding, enigmatic writing entices, challenges, dazzles. Through these delays, enigmatic writing invites to a more through-going experience of writing and opens to what, in native conception and absent substantial explicit meta-discourses, may have been conceived of as the very essence of hieroglyphic writing.

References Arpagaus, D. 2014. “Auf der Suche nach der vollkommenen Schrift. Zur Schriftbildlichkeit im engeren Sinne in den ptolemäisch-römischen Tempeltexten,” in: G. Neunert, K. Gabler, A. Verbovsek (eds.), Bild: Ästhetik ‒ Medium ‒ Kommunikation. Beiträge des dritten Münchner Arbeitskreises Junge Ägyptologie (MAJA 3). GOF IV 58, 63–78. Assmann, Jan. 1994. “Zur Ästhetik des Geheimnisses. Kryptographie als Kalligraphie im Alten Ägyptien,” in: Susi Krotzinger and Gabriele Rippl (eds.), Zeichen zwischen Klartext und Arabeske. Konferenz des Konstanzer Graduiertenkollegs „Theorie der Literatur“ veranstaltet im Oktober 1992. Internationale Forschungen zur allgemeinen und vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft 7, 175–186. Darnell, J. C., 2004, The Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity: Cryptographic Compositions in the Tombs of Tutankhamun, Ramesses VI and Ramesses IX. OBO 198.

17 E.g., Wilhelm von Humboldt’s view (1826) that a sign is all the more more functional the emptier it is. Such alphabetistic ideologies of writing are linked to instrumentalist ideologies of language itself, reinforced during the Enlightenment (for a critique, see Silverstein 2014, 130 and throughout the article). 18 Houston and Stauder 2020. In a similar sense, Morenz (2008, 1): “Im Sinn einer klassische westlichen Semiotik erscheint die Sättigung der Zeichen mit Sinn als dysfunktional.”

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Drioton, É. 1933, “Essai sur la cryptographie privée de la fin de la XVIIIe dynastie,” RdE 1, 1–50. Drioton, É., 1940, “Recueil de cryptographie monumentale,” ASAE 40, 305–429. Goodwin, C. W., 1873, “On the Enigmatic Writing on the Coffin of Seti,” ZÄS 11, 1873, 138–146. Houston, S., and A. Stauder, 2020, “What is a hieroglyph?,” L’Homme 233, 9–44. Von Humboldt, W. 1826, “Über die Buchstaben-Schrift und ihren Zusammenhang mit dem Sprachbau,” Abhandlungen der Königlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften in Berlin: Philosophisch-Historische Klasse. Aus dem Jahre 1824, 161–188, https://visuallibrary.net/ 130755. Klotz, D., 2012, “Once again, Min ( ): Acrophony or Phonetic Change?” GM 233, 21–29. Lauth, Fr. J., 1866, “Änigmatische Schrift,” ZÄS 4, 24–26. Morenz, L. D., 2005, “Akrophonisches oder konsonantisches Prinzip – eine angemessene Alternative für die Visuelle Poesie?” DE 61, 101–113. Morenz, L. D., 2008, Sinn und Spiel der Zeichen: visuelle Poesie im Alten Ägypten. Pictura et Poesis 21. Pries, A., 2016, “ἔμψυχα ἱερογλυφικά I. Eine Annäherung an Wesen und Wirkmacht ägyptischer Hieroglyphen nach dem indigenen Zeugnis,” in: S. Lippert, M. Schentuleit, M. Stadler (eds.), Sapientia Felicitas. Festschrift für Günter Vittmann zum 29. Februar 2016, Cahiers « Égypte Nilotique et Méditerranéenne » 14, 449–488. Roberson, J. A., 2013, The Awakening of Osiris and the Transit of the Solar Barques. Royal Apotheosis in a Most Concise Book of the Unverworld and Sky. OBO 262. Sauneron, S., 1982, L’écriture figurative dans les textes d’Esna. Esna VIII. Silverstein, M., 2014, “Denotation and the Pragmatics of Language,” in: N. J. Enfield, Paul Kockelman, and Jack Sidnell (eds.), The Cambridge Handbook of Linguistic Anthropology, Cambridge, 128–155. Stauder, A., 2018, “Staging Restricted Knowledge: The Sculptor Irtysen’s Self-Presentation,” in: G. Miniaci, J. C. Moreno García, S. Quirke, A. Stauder (eds.), The Arts of Making in Ancient Egypt. Voices, Images and Objects of Material Producers 2000–1550 BC, Leiden, 239–271. Werning, D., 2008, “Aenigmatische Schreibungen in Unterweltsbüchern des Neuen Reiches: gesicherte Entsprechungen und Ersetzungsprinzipien,” in: C. Peust (ed.), Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf. GM Beihefte 3, 124–152.

John Coleman Darnell

Ancient Egyptian Cryptography: Graphic Hermeneutics Wenn man aber sagt: „Wie soll ich wissen, was er meint, ich sehe ja nur seine Zeichen“, so sage ich: „Wie soll er wissen, was er meint, er hat ja auch nur seine Zeichen.“ Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophische Untersuchungen, § 504

Beginning modestly during the Old Kingdom and continuing to the end of the hieroglyphic tradition, the ancient Egyptian script made use of alternative signs and atypical phonetic values and meanings for more commonly used signs. Texts employing these non-standard, initially uncommon and seemingly obfuscating signs and sign values are termed “enigmatic” or “cryptographic.” 1 From brief Old Kingdom2 and First Intermediate Period 3 forays, with both sporadic occurrencs and slightly longer and more complex segments of Middle Kingdom date,4 cryptography becomes particularly prominent during the New Kingdom. During the Late Period and throughout the Ptolemaic and Roman eras, reaching a pinnacle of complexity and visual expressiveness in the texts of the temple of Esna, a number of signs and sign values occurring earlier only in cryptographic texts became common in most hieroglyphic compositions;5 even in the latest datable hieroglyphic inscription (AD 394, in the portico of Hadrian in the temple of Isis at Philae), one of the last writers of hieroglyphic Egyptian – a priest of the Nubian deity Mandulis – could employ an uncommon sign substitution, an echo of earlier “enigmatic” orthographies.6

1 Overviews in Brunner 1973; Fischer 1977, 1196, § H; Werning 2008. 2 Drioton 1935–1938. 3 Fischer 1976. 4 Capart 1929; Drioton 1933b (rather than being a true cryptographic inscription, the scenes on stele Louvre C15 probably form a complex tableau as explained by Moret [cited ibid. p. 210 n. 1], bearing similarities to object friezes on the coffin JdE 36418 – see Willems 1996, 528; see also Eissa 2002); Fischer 1987, 38 (and n. 8); Newberry, Fraser 1893, pls. 14 and 17; Westendorf 1977a, 486; Faulkner 1981. Note also the Tod inscription of Sesostris I (Barbotin, Clère 1991, fig. 3, l. 17 [see further below]). 5 So Sauneron, Clère 1982, 52: “Le procédé [cryptographique] fut généralisé à l’époque « ptolémaïque », et les textes acquirent alors une densité épigraphique jamais atteinte par le passé ; mais ce n’était que la continuation d’une évolution amorcée longtemps auparavant.” 6 Griffith 1935–1937, vol. 1, 126–127; vol. 2, pl. 69 (Graffito Philae 436); Darnell 2004, 3, n. 13. Note: Darnell 2020 repeats and expands upon some portions of this chapter, relating to the forecourt of Luxor Temple, the religious significance of mining, and kings as geologists. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-002

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Principles of Pharaonic Cryptography Champollion’s original decipherment of Egyptian having been based primarily on a study of Ptolemaic hieroglyphic texts, with its expanded sign list derived from a “normalization” of earlier cryptographic principles, early Egyptologists not surprisingly, but nevertheless somewhat precociously, began to approach the older, prePtolemaic cryptographic texts.7 Such work did not have great issue, however, and cryptography languished somewhat until the mid-Twentieth century, when it found its first major proponents, representing two diametrically opposed approaches to the material. Étienne Drioton8 espoused a theory of acrophonic sign value derivations in which a sign could acquire the value of the first radical of a word describing or determined by the sign in question. Although the second proposed method of derivation imposes some limitations on potential sign values, the imagination that one might use in describing a sign results in that sign potentially acquiring almost any phonetic or ideographic value. H. W. Fairman9 assailed the manner in which Drioton’s acrophony allowed a seemingly unlimited number of phonetic values for a given cryptographic sign, based on no internal textual or graphic evidence from the cryptographic composition in question. Fairman proposed that the sign values of Egyptian cryptographic texts derived primarily from “direct representation” and the “consonantal principle.” 10 In direct representation, a visual extension – by expansion or contraction of the object depicted – may represent the usual sign; thus an arm might represent the hand, and the hand (by application of the pars pro toto concept) might represent the arm. According to the consonantal principle, a multiliteral sign can reduce to a uniliteral value if that sign consists of a strong consonant and one or more semi-vocalic phonemes, the strong consonant providing the uniliteral value. Fairman made only extremely limited allowance for Drioton’s acrophony.11 The functioning of Drioton’s concept of acrophony cannot be definitively demonstrated for Egyptian cryptography,12 and the primary principles of Egyptian enig-

7 References in Drioton 1949, 117, nn. 1–5. 8 Basic bibliography in Drioton 1953. 9 Principle discussions: Fairman 1943; Fairman 1945. 10 Fairman 1945, 62–67; see also Fairman 1943, 287–305. 11 Although Fairman (1943) hesitantly allowed for the functioning of acrophony in values of the spewing mouth, he presents this as less likely in Fairman 1945. For the spewing mouth, see also Darnell 2004, 42–45. 12 Appeals to the concept continue – cf. Sauneron, Clère 1982, 106; Derchain-Urtel 1978; Kurth 1978; Kurth 1983, 294 (although acknowledging the functioning of Fairman’s principles); Kurth 2007, 123; Werning 2008, 127–128, n. 1; Morenz 2003; Morenz 2004; Morenz 2005, 106–107; Morenz 2008. Careful and convincing critiques include Klotz 2012a, 32–33, n. 9; Klotz 2009, 30, n. 95; Klotz 2011a, 177; Klotz 2012b; Klotz 2014a; Klotz 2011b; Meltzer 2004.

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matic writing are visual and phonetic substitutions. Drioton suggested that many scarab inscriptions, including royal names, might write cryptographically divine names, particularly the name of Amun.13 While this suggestion at times dominates publications of scarabs in archaeological assemblages,14 the process is questionable.15 If acrophony as Drioton understood it ever existed in an Egyptian text, it was an infrequent and idiosyncratic insertion into a system of substitutions. Within a category of sign, one may substitute for another – so the sȝ-bird or a “generic” semi-cursive waterfowl sign might substitute for any other avian sign. Signs may also substitute based on general shape, especially through the exploitation of potential confusions in hieratic – so a horizontal sign might well substitute for another. The normal appearance of a sign is altered, such as choosing an uncommon sign to represent the same object as a more normal sign (so the mouth viewed from the side substitutes for the mouth seen from the front). The principle of pars pro toto substitution also obtains within the system (as the pupil may represent the eye). These graphic substitutions represent Fairman’s concept of “direct representation.” Sign values may also exploit substitution based on phonetic change, Fairman’s “consonantal principle,” with sibilants used interchangeably, dentals as well. Multiliteral signs with a weak (semivocalic) final phoneme may serve to write the value of the initial consonant(s) (so sȝ for s), and other aspects of contemporaneous pronunciation may be exploited (as in the use of the star for s). In at least one case, the use of the r-mouth for the value p, a sign may derive a sound purely from a graphic representation of the class of sound to which it belongs, the mouth/lips representing what the Egyptians appear logically to have understood as what we would classify as a bilabial. Somewhat more complex combinations of graphic and phonetic substitutions also occur.16 The principles of Egyptian cryptographic sign value derivation rely primarily on substitutions, based on an understanding of the visual and phonetic characteristics of signs. The reasons for the use of cryptography in the brief and few surviving early examples remain somewhat obscure. As surviving cryptographic compositions become more prevalent and on occasions considerably longer during the New Kingdom, an examination of the contexts of those cryptographic segments and treatises may reveal at least some overarching conceptual guideline or purpose for the incorporation of cryptography into a composition or architectonic setting during the New Kingdom. The best controls for a translation of a cryptographic text are the data of

13 Drioton 1957; a more recent discussion of trigrammatic orthographies of divine names is Ryhiner 1977. 14 Compare Schulman 1988, 137 et passim. 15 Crevatin (2003) provides readings that are both acrophonic and unlikely. A reasoned discussion of the difficulties of scarab texts is Roulin 1999. 16 So the sign of the animal skin with tail (F27) can substitute for the sign of the bull, having then the value k; the animal skin can also substitute for the ẖn-sign (F26), and acquire the derived value m for ỉm (Darnell 2004, 595).

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any accompanying iconography, and the search for texts that parallel both the content and concepts of the cryptographic passage.17

Types of New Kingdom Cryptography Within Substitutional Cryptography, New Kingdom cryptographic texts reveal four methods of textual compositon:18 1. Annotational Cryptography: Through the principle of substitution, the potential phonetic values of a known sign expand, and the number of potential orthographies for a given phoneme or phonetic group increases. New or unusual signs also appear, often with logographic values. Determinatives are uncommon, ideograms are common; the normal reading order of signs may be altered for effect – “perturbation.” This Annotational Cryptography appears in its most well-developed and prominently placed examples in several of the New Kingdom tombs of Dra Abu en-Naga. 2. Abgad or Alphabetic Cryptography: A version of Annotational cryptography, emphasizing signs – either originally or through cryptographic substitution – having uniliteral phonetic values, with infrequent use of determinatives.19 Abgad Cryptography is virtually limited to the Netherworld Books, and almost always employs non-complex and relatively common hieroglyphic signs. 3. Ornamental Cryptography: This category employs the sign derivation principles of Substitutional Cryptography, while emphasizing the decorative aspect of hieroglyphic inscriptions, royal epitheta and lauds of gods being written as friezes of divinities and geniuses, often carrying various objects; here words literally march across the stones before the reader.20 Ornamental cryptography – which often occurs in the form of what one might term Monumental cryptography – is most common in royal inscriptions during the New Kingdom, and frequently has recourse to thematic cryptography. 4. Thematic Cryptography: This style of cryptography relies on the visual conjunction of cryptographic signs to give added significance to the written words. Thematic Cryptography appears in compositions employing both Normal (Annota-

17 Already Devéria (1897, 78–79) acknowledged that his work on a cryptographic text in the tomb of Ramesses IX was assisted “par l’étude d’autres textes purement hiéroglyphiques, mais dont le contenu est analogue à celui qu’on va lire.” Even for brief, “sportive” writings, only textual and orthographic parallels transform multiple possibilities into one certainty (compare Winter 2006). A comparison of two attempts to deal with the difficult ram- and crocodile-based cryptographic hymns in the Temple of Esna – Leitz 2001 and Morenz 2002 – reveals the problems inherent in Drioton’s system (Morenz relies on Drioton’s acrophony, and makes little attempt to control suggested readings on the basis of other hymns or parallel expressions). 18 The following is based on Darnell 2004, 14–34. 19 Exceptions to the common lack of determinatives in Abgad enigmatic inscriptions are the texts on the ceilings of Corridor G in the Tomb of Ramesses VI – Piankoff, Rambova 1954, pls. 178–182; Hornung 1988; Darnell 2004, 163–275. 20 Cf. Drioton 1936.

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tional) Cryptography and Ornamental Cryptography.21 Thematic cryptographic orthographies may at times allow for two readings of a word, one when viewed as a cryptogram, another when seen as Normalschrift;22 a Thematic cryptographic orthography may even depict the concept underlying the word so written.23 A significant and often somewhat perplexing subheading of Amuletic Cryptography belongs to the Thematic corpus, generally short texts on scarabs and other small objects, frequently blurring more than Ornamental Cryptography the line between text and image.

Cryptography and the Concept of Štȝ-Mystery The ancient Egyptians do not appear to have considered cryptography to be other than an extension of the normal system of sign value derivations in their scripts, and no discernable term for “cryptography” exists in a Normalschrift text.24 The various corpora of cryptography in New Kingdom Egypt appear to represent a visual expression of the understanding of difficult knowledge derived from the inner workings of the author’s/reader’s knowledge – the cryptographic orthography is the graphic revelation of an inner process, focusing on the actor in the text and the author of the passage, representing to the reader a successful engagement of scholarly knowledge with an object of study. The author of the cryptographic text must unravel the mystery – writing cryptography presupposes the solving of a problem, and serves as a representation of a difficult concept that has been grasped and must and can be understood again. Considering the applications of cryptography during the New Kingdom, many may at some level be seen to involve štȝ, a mystery not so much to be hidden but to be investigated, a meaning remote but not unattainable. Cryptography does not express any concept absent in other texts, nor does it appear

21 For a Nineteenth Dynasty combination of Ornamental and Thematic cryptography see Yoyotte 1955. Pertinent to the study of thematic cryptography is Richter 2016, 39–63 et passim. 22 Winter 1987, 71; Wolf 1929, 28; Yoyotte 1955, 89. 23 Sauneron 1957, 130–133; Iversen 1984a, 9; Kákosy 1980, 23. 24 The term ỉtnw (Wb. I 146, 1–3; Redford 1986, 85, n. 42) describes difficult passages in texts, and does not refer to a genre of “mysterious writings.” Nevertheless, the term wḥʿ, “to clarify, disentangle,” can take ỉtnw as an object (Wb. I 348, 12), and appears as the first word in a cryptographic passage in the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus (see below). Note also Diego Espinel 2014, 328. Werning 2008 has suggested that a group (three birds, animal skin, and grasshopper) appearing several times in the cryptography of the Book of Caverns represents “Kryptogramm,” but that group may write bȝ.w ỉmy.w (Darnell 2004, 193, n. 123). That a cryptographic inscription in the Book of Caverns would require a label indicating its cryptographic nature – a feature absent in all other cryptographic passeges in the Netherworld Books – is doubtful. A passage in the Book of Day (Drioton, in: Piankoff 1942, 86; Darnell 2004, 473–475; Müller-Roth 2008, 128; see further below) appears to reference a cryptographic segment as composed of mdw-nṯr, “hieroglyphs.”

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exclusively everywhere it might be expected according to any single criterion. Egyptian cryptography was a means of heightening the experience of the reader as actor, but it remained an essentially optional aspect of the text.

Netherworld and Cosmographic Books Cryptography is not uniformly prevalent in the Netherworld and Cosmographic Books,25 but an overview of its occurrences reveals certain concepts that triggered its appearance. In the Book of Amduat the cryptographic sections focus on the Fourth and Fifth Hours, the sandy realm of rȝ-sṯȝw and the place of rekindling of the sun in contact with the waters of Nun in the oval of Sokar, a place of a dangerous cosmic encounter. In the Book of Gates the cryptography is complete in the Judgement Hall of Osiris, where the souls of the dead hang in the balance;26 likewise, the Resurrection of Osiris treatise also contains cryptographic annotations.27 In the Book of Caverns the enigmatic orthographies find their densest concentration in the Fifth Division, focusing on the image of the personified Netherworld as the goddess Shetayet, mirror and cosmographic counterpart to the giant solar-Osirian corpse as manifestation of the Netherworld itself.28 In the Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity, with their emphasis on the merging of Re and Osiris, and their syncopation of the Netherworld, the cryptography is complete except for a few short annotations and occasional citations of other compositions. The Solar-Osirian treatises – the only elements of the corpus to appear in an almost entirely cryptographic orthography – are concerned with the regenerative union of Re and Osiris. The cryptography in the Book of Amduat is at its densest concentration in the two divisions that depict the deepest and darkest realm of the Netherworld, in which occurs the regeneration of the night sun in the Chamber of Sokar. The concentration of cryptography in the Book of Caverns also focuses on the Osirian corpse of the sun as a manifestation of the space and time through which the sun moves during the process of nocturnal renewal. Both the Book of Gates and the Resurrection of Osiris see an application of cryptography to the justification and resurrection of Osiris, and his oversight over the eternal process of justifying the Osirian aspects of the blessed dead. Although other portions of the Netherworld Books indeed describe the interactions of the sun and the Osirian chrysalis – compare the twice depicted solar corpse in the Sixth Hour of the Book of Amduat –

25 The Books of Amduat, Gates, Caverns; Book of the Earth, Book of the Day, Book of Nut, Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity, Awakening of Osiris and Transit of the Solar Barques (basic references in Hornung 1999; Darnell and Darnell 2018). 26 Manassa 2006. 27 Roberson 2013. 28 A concept well attested in the Pyramid Texts – Barta 1985–1986; Barta 1990.

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the seemingly selective appearance of cryptography in the Netherworld Books serves to emphasize periods of change, the crossing of liminal boundaries, governed by the union of Re and Osiris. The concept of štȝ/sštȝ in the Netherworld Books is an expression of the nature and ultimate function of the corpse of the solar deity as an Osiride vehicle of rebirth through the meeting and reconciliation of the solar and chthonic aspects of the nocturnal form of Re-Osiris, the štȝw-corpse of the sun.29 Much of the use of cryptography in the corpus of the Netherworld Books represents a glyptographic mirroring of the difficult, deep, central concept of the Solar-Osirian Unity. Segments of cryptography in the Cosmographic Books concern “astronomical” issues, which may themselves be termed štȝ-mysteries.30 In the Book of the Day, cryptography is most complete in a section describing the interactions of liminal entities with places and creatures of the imminent world – essentially a cosmographic treatise describing the transcendental manifestations or self-divisions of the primordial creator and how those manifestations interact with the imminent world.31 In the Book of the Day, following a description of the nature and cosmography of the souls of the east, appears the admonition:32 ỉw=ỉ rḫ.kw sn m mdw-nṯr ṯs.w fdw pw n rḫ n ʿḳ=k m-ẖnw=s ỉmỉ=k ḏd r sḏm rḫy.t nb.t I know them in hieroglyphs; they are four statements of knowledge, within which you have entered (i.e., to which you are initiated); do not speak (this) so that just anyone can hear!

A ṯs rḫw, “statement of knowledge,” occurs in a similar context to the “four statements of knowledge” of the Book of the Day. In two Saite tombs at Saqqara, the text of chapter 67 of the Book of the Dead is followed by a statement concerning the revealing of that text to the profane:33

29 Compare from among many examples Book of Gates Scene 38 – Hornung 1979, 224–229; Hornung 1980, 162–165. 30 Compare Altenmüller 1977, col. 512, n. 7. 31 See the remarks of Stadler 2010. 32 Drioton, in: Piankoff 1942, 86; Darnell 2004, 473–475. Müller-Roth 2008, 128 (commentary pp. 132–33) presents an imperfect restoration of the text and misidentifies the final sign in l. 33; traces visible in the tomb and in Piankoff, Rambova 1954, pl. 151, support the reading of Piankoff (1942, 86) with the exception of that final bird hieroglyph, which has a ḫȝ-sign in its beak rather than a fish (Darnell 2004, 464–475). 33 Bresciani, Pernigotti, Giangeri Silvio 1977, pl. 7, upper vertical columns, 7th and 8th cols. from the left; Maspero, in: Barsanti, Maspero 1900, 255.

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ỉ ḏȝḏȝ.t-nṯr.w tw wr.t nt p.t ỉw ỉn.n=ṯn wỉ ḥnʿ=ṯn m wʿ ỉm=ṯn nn rḏỉ(.t) ṯs pw rḫw n ỉḫm.w nṯr.w Oh you great heavenly council of the gods: You have fetched me away with you as one among you, without giving that statement of knowledge to those ignorant of the gods.

The rḫw-knowledge of this passage is an understanding of cosmography, the simple import of the relatively brief chapter 67 being the deceased’s declaration of the intention to take up position in the solar bark.34 The fear is that the material be imparted to the ignorant through reading aloud; the cryptography is more a graphic signal of significance and import than ultimate guard against improper dissemination. The position of the king in New Kingdom solar religion is tied to the nature of esoteric knowledge of the solar cycle, summarized in “The King as Solar Priest.” That text evokes the mortal, liminal, and otherworldly equations of the Cosmographic Books, revealing the proper ruler as keeper of the secret knowledge of solar worship. Brief as it is, the text is a pithy précis of the royal solar knowledge. Sections 3–4 are particularly important for understanding the probable function of royal cryptography:35 ỉw nsw.t N rḫw mdw pn štȝ ỉḏd bȝ.w ỉȝb.tyw ḥsy=ṯn ṯỉȝ n rʿ wbn=f ḫʿy=f m ȝḫ.t wn=sn n=f ṯrw/ʿȝ.wy-rȝ m sbȝ.w nyw ȝḫ.t ỉȝbt.t sḳd[=f] ḥr wȝ.wt ḥr.t ỉw=f rḫ bs=sn ḫpr.w=sn nỉw.wt ỉmw.wt tȝ-nṯr ỉw=f rḫ bw ʿḥʿ=sn ỉm ḫft šsp Rʿ tp-wȝ.wt §3

The king N knows this mysterious language that the eastern souls speak, they singing chatter for Re, so that he might rise and that he might appear in glory in the horizon; they opening for him the bolts/leaves in the portals of the western horizon, that [he] might navigate upon the celestial ways.

§4

He knows their emerging and their forms, and their cities that are in the divine land. He knows the place(s) in which they are stationed, after Re takes up the head of the roads.

34 For association of rḫ-knowledge and solar cosmography, see Assmann 1970, 56–57. A connection between rḫ-knowledge and pronunciation (cf. Hornung 1975, 288–289) probably relates to the close association between text and ritual (discussion with pertinent literature in Willems 1996, 279–284); for rḫ-knowledge in religious literature of the Graeco-Roman Period, see Jasnow, Zauzich 2005, 61– 65. 35 Assmann 1970, 17–18. Parkinson (1991, 38; 2002, 62) has suggested a Middle Kingdom date for the treatise. For the “mysterious language of the baboons,” see Te Velde 1988. For the text in the tomb of Pasherientiasu at Sakkara, see Betrò 1985.

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The admonition against reading aloud in the presence of the ignorant appears in a cryptographic section of the Book of the Day that represents the knowledge to which section 4 of the King as Solar Priest alludes, knowledge related to the “mysterious language” of the eastern baboon souls. In both the Book of the Day and the treatise known as the King as Solar Priest, mystery – cryptographically written statements of knowledge and the mysterious language of the baboons – is directly related to the attestation of rḫw-knowledge. Cryptography graphically describes rḫ-knowledge of difficult štȝ-concepts An indication that the cryptography of the Netherworld and Cosmoraphic Books relates to the interpretation of arcane and even cosmically dangerous knowledge appears in the Book of Amduat. In the concluding text to the Third Hour of Amduat, mysterious gods address Re as “the interpreter,” in the text immediately preceding the concentration of cryptography in the Fourth and Fifth Hours of the Amduat:36 ḏd mdw ỉn nṯr.w štȝ.w ḫft nṯr pn ʿȝ ʿḳ=f m ỉṯw ẖn=f nt nb wʿ ḫpr.t ȝwt mỉ r=k n=n ẖnnw ỉwf=f sšm n ḥʿ=f ḏs=f ʿʿȝw dwȝt nb srḳ mdw ḥʿ.w=f ỉr ʿnḫ=f Words spoken by the mysterious gods before this great god when he enters (the portal) “Seizer,” as he navigates the floodwaters of the sole lord (called) “creator of victuals”: “Come to us, one whose flesh is navigated, who is guided to his own limbs, interpreter of the Netherworld, possessor of breath, whose limbs speak, who creates his own life.”

The text describes the solar deity as interpreter of the Netherworld,37 translator of the transcendental realm, dragoman of the dead. The translation activity crosses a boundary, forming the first of two epithets that separate the twin descriptions of the corpse of the former sun as the passive object of transportation into the Netherworld, and the twin epithets of the rejuvenating solar deity as actor in his own right. The cryptography in the Netherworld and Cosmographic Books, by its content and distribution within the treatises that form the corpus, relates to the mystery of the renewal of the sun, and the reconciliation of the chthonic-Osirian and celestialsolar aspects of the supreme deity. Studying the mystery of the crossing of boundaries between day and night, immanence and transcendence, the fine line between

36 Hornung 1987, 312–314. 37 LGG (I, 1) lists a deity “interpreter” (ȝʿʿw) in the Second Division of the Book of Caverns (Piankoff 1944, pl. 23, l. 6), although that name – lacking the man-with-hand-to-mouth of ȝʿʿw in the Amduat passage – is better rendered as “engendering one who manifests through me,” parallel to the following deity “begetting one who manifests through me” (for the verb, see Bell 1976, 30–34; Darnell 2004, 320–321).

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terrestrial toponyms and outer realms, the unity of yesterday and tomorrow in the union of the solar-ba and Osirian corpse, the texts heighten the impact of the scholarly task and the cosmic moment of transcendence through the graphic mirroring of that mystery in cryptography.

Non-Royal Cryptography Non-royal cryptography is spread between small objects such as scribal palettes, scarabs, and jewellery, and larger monuments including stelae and statuary, and the surfaces of tomb façades and entrance passages.38 Non-royal stelae may employ Monumental Cryptography,39 and cryptographic passages also appear on non-royal statuary, ranging in content from the seemingly sycophantic40 to the more personal.41 Most of the longer examples of Annotational Cryptography are texts of eschatological content from New Kingdom Theban non-royal tombs, the majority thereof in the Dra Abu en-Naga necropolis. Although all of this material has an aspect of ostentatiously and publicly self-congratulatory erudition, most examples of NonRoyal Cryptography also occur in contexts consistent with the demonstration of a scribal engagement with difficult, even secret material. The Dra Abu en-Naga cryptography presents a coalescing of religiously appropriate cryptography and scribal display, ultimately relating to the solarizing aspect prevalent in Netherworld Book cryptography. Located in the entrance areas of the tombs, cryptography would both reflect and assist the liminal crossings of the deceased and his or her visitors during festivals. The cryptographic texts in the tomb of Djehuty at Dra Abu en-Naga demonstrate both the results of archival work with older texts, and knowledge of the then more current texts of solar hymnic. Djehuty claims to know “every štȝ-secret of the palace,” and to have the ability “to wḥʿ-disentangle drf-writings.” 42 The cryptography both serves to solarize the portal, and at the

38 Funerary Texts (Dra Abu en-Naga inscriptions, such as those in the Tombs of Djehuty and Khaemhat); Khaemwase and his Memphite circle (see elsewhere in this volume); Private Statuary (such as those of Senenmut and Minmose); Scribal Palettes; Amuletic Objects (Scarabs and Jewellery); Rock Inscriptions. Cf. Drioton 1933a; Sethe 1908a, 1*–12*, pl. 34; Seidlmayer 1991; Diego Espinel 2009; Diego Espinel 2014. For rock inscriptions compare Hintze, Reineke, et al. 1989, vol. 2, 61, no. 192 (the name 6.nw appears as six strokes followed by the seated-man determinative, who holds before his face the nw-pot that is the final sign in writing the name [Hintze, Reineke, et al. 1989, vol. 1, 61, do not read this element]; compare the name 7.nw: Hintze, Reineke, et al. 1989, vol. 2, 59, no. 188). 39 On the stela Liebighaus Museum 1647, a cryptographic text above finds a monumental cryptographic group below – see Jansen-Winkeln 1997. 40 Such as the cryptograms of Senenmut, primarily devoted to ingenious manners of depicting the names of Hatshepsut in thematic cryptography – Keller, in: Roehrig 2005, 117–119. 41 Compare Effland, Effland 2004, 11–16. 42 Overview in Diego Espinel 2014, 328.

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same time reveals that the scribe can access difficult earlier material. Simultaneously, cryptographically transmuting what is modern and graphically clear, the scribe reveals knowledge and capability. On the basis of his claim to prowess in unraveling difficult texts, the composition of cryptography appears more to emphasize ability at understanding difficult and secret material rather than composition of the same – cryptography is foremost a sign of knowledge, not a barrier to understanding. Other occurrences of Non-Royal Cryptography, even if primarily intended to impress colleagues and others, also adhere to an overarching revelation of the triumph of scribal scholarship over “secret” or difficult material. The cryptography of Senenmut – and probably that of Khaemwaset as well – finds an explanation in Senenmut’s claim that he has devised the tỉ.t-images on his own as something not previously done, an expression of the scribal desire to innovate.43 The one selfpresentation of an artist that approaches an overt statement on the functions and interactions of iconography appears on the Middle Kingdom stela of Irtysen, and gives a glimpse of the background of an artist-scribe who might produce cryptography as an expression of that very preparation:44 ỉw=ỉ rḫ.kw sštȝ ny mdw-nṯr ḥkȝ nb ʿpr.n(=ỉ) sw ỉnk grt ḥmww ỉḳr m ḥm.t=f

sšm.t-ʿ.w nyw ḥby.wt ny swȝ.t ỉm ḥr=ỉ pr ḥr tp m rḫt.n=f

I know: the secret of hieroglyphic script, the conduct of festival rituals. As for all (applicable) magic – without anything escaping me have I acquired it. I am indeed an artist excellent in his art, successful because of what he knows.

The artistic pride of Irtysen presents before all other attainments his knowledge of the secrets of hieroglyphic script, an understanding of sštȝ-mystery that underpins and embues the artistry of Irtysen. Revelation of personal knowledge through outward manifestation of learning leads to success – in this interrelationship of secret knowledge and revealed craft, cryptography is a manifestation of the scribe as textual/inscriptional creator, not a scribal veil cast over a text as concealed object.45 Mathematical texts, elements of the “private” corpus, may also attract cryptographic orthographies, conceivably related to štȝ as a mathematical term, and the process of wḥʿ-disentangling, solving mathematical problems. A passage on the Rhind mathematical papyrus, written in enigmatic script, describes how wḥʿ=k tȝ

43 Urk. IV, 406. 44 Barta 1970. Ritner (1997 [1993], 31–32) takes ḥkȝ here as “artistic creativity.” That Irtysen also refers to supervision of his son’s education supports Fischer-Elfert (2002, 27–35) in concluding that Irtysen’s statements of knowledge find parallels in the Coffin Texts, evidence of a form of initiatory examination. For the stela of Irtysen, see also Matthieu 2016; Stauder 2018. 45 The graffito (probably dating from the Amarna period) on block XE 63 of Amenhotep IV from Karnak (Chappaz 1983, 33) bears an apparently cryptographic graffito that reveals affinities to the “lapidary” cryptography of seals and amulets, but what is meant to evince is unclear.

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šʿ.yt, “you shall disentangle the piece of writing” – and that text refers to mathematical calculations as štȝ-“problems.” 46 Numeric cryptograms also appear,47 and the mathematical associations of cryptography continue in demotic48 and Coptic texts, in the latter corpus owing much to the numeric encryptions of Hebrew and Greek.49 Non-Royal Cryptography focuses on the scribe as agent, revealing an ability to comprehend difficult passages and recast that material – Senenmut stresses not secrecy but innovation as the rationale behind his monogrammatic cryptograms. In mathematics, through daily scribal interactions with a palette, in the entrance passages to their own sepulchers, scribes are the foci of once and future mystery, being the students and teachers thereof in the pr-ʿnḫ, where štȝ-mysteries are incubated and passed on to future generations.50 Both the cryptography of Djehuty and that of the Rhind mathematical papyrus appear to reflect wḥʿ-disentanglement – NonRoyal Cryptography stresses the revelation of a mystery, not the creation thereof. Amuletic cryptography, relating as it does to the adornment of the body, is also both a demonstration of erudition, and a physical means of ensuring a glorification of the body.

New Kingdom Monumental Cryptography The Monumental Cryptography of New Kingdom temples and royal tombs51 – combining both ostentatious, ornamental friezes that exploit cryptography for its scenelike potential, and temple texts written partially or wholly in cryptography – relates to constellations of art, text, architecture, and geography that reveal relationships

46 Peet 1923, p. 33 and pl. A; Gunn 1926, 136–137. Morenz 2006 and Morenz 2008, 127–131, is to be corrected. 47 See Priskin 2003. 48 Cf. Spiegelberg 1928, 26–27, pl. 6. 49 Wisse 1979; Doresse, in: Atiya 1991, 65–69, and bibliography given there; Doresse 1952; see also Heurtel 2002, 42–43. 50 Compare the references in Gardiner 1938, 160, 164, 168–169, 173, and 175; Nordh 1996, 144–147 et passim. 51 Ornamental Cryptography: Royal Titulary (Ramesses II at Luxor Temple, tomb of Ramesses VI, etc); Annotational Cryptography: Luxor Year 3 inscription of Ramesses II; Ramesses II texts from Aksha and Amara West; Religious Cryptography: Temple inscription of Ramesses II at Abydos; isolated examples elsewhere (as in the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu); basic overview in Drioton 1940; for the tomb of Ramesses VI, see Abitz 1989, 88–94 (and further below). The sportive writing of ỉwn.tyw in an epithet of Antef II on a column from Karnak – Le Saout, Ma’arouf, Zimmer 1987, 294–297 (particularly 295), and 314 – is probably not a precursor of later enigmatic titularies; see also Van Essche 1997a; Roberson 2007; Taher 2007–2008; Lurson 2009; Gaber 2012; Klotz 2013, with references; Taterka 2015. For later uses of monumental cryptography, see also Drioton 1941 (and the references cited there, particularly in n. 1, p. 31).

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between the near and experienced world and another cosmic realm both mysterious and remote. Monumental Cryptography, particularly Ornamental Cryptography, blurs further the already all but nonexistent boundary in Egyptian art and writing between text and scene.52 In all the cryptographic texts of New Kingdom temples the king reveals the hidden nature of himself, through both the composition and revelation of the tỉ.t-images of which his divine self is composed,53 and through the evidence of revelatory scholarship and liminal expeditions, the seeking out and manipulation of plans and substances that require a translation and interpretation from one state to another.

Monumental Cryptography as Evocative Citation Monumental Cryptography on the rear wall of the Min shrine in the temple of Ramesses II at Abydos54 bridges the worlds of Monumental Cryptography and cryptographic sections in the Netherworld Books, alluding to an entire corpus. One of a number of incursions of cryptography into otherwise normally orthographed texts, through interaction of content and architecture representing a blending of Netherworldly and Monumental cryptography, occurs within a marginal inscription beneath the cornice at the top of the north exterior wall of the mortuary temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu.55 Ramesses III describes his temple in relationship to deities of the Netherworld, and employs the jackal for sṯȝ in nb rȝ-sṯȝw, “lord of Rosetau,” the falcon eye for mȝȝ, and the three falcons on standards for nṯr.w in wȝ.t-nṯr nṯr.w ḳr.tyw r mȝȝ nb-nṯrw, “divine road of the cavern-dwelling gods in order to behold the lord of the gods.” The reference to Netherworld deities, and the liminal designation wȝ.t-nṯr, appear to have called forth the use of cryptography; the cryptographic snippet evokes the Solar-Osirian mystery, and at the same time hints at the royal initiation into – and understanding of – those mysteries. In the otherwise smooth flowing surface of the hieroglyphic inscription, the cryptography presents a meaningful ripple, a corrugation of hieroglyphic bumps to the reader’s normally placid transit of the monumental text. The corresponding appearance of monumental cryptography in association with portions of the Netherworld Books in the tomb of Ramesses VI provides evidence that the cryptographic royal titulary represents a hieroglyphic apotheosis of the king. Monumental cryptographic orthographies of the prenomen and nomen of

52 See Drioton 1940; Desroches-Noblecourt, Kuentz 1968, 52–55; also Van Essche 1997b. 53 Compare Hornung, in: Abitz 1989, 93: “Wie er in der ‘Gliedervergottung’ Glied für Glied zum Gott wird, so wird sein Name hier Konsonant für Konsonant göttlich.” 54 Naville 1930, pls. 35–36. 55 The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu 3, pl. 182, l. 3.

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Ramesses VI appear on all four pillars in the pillared hall of KV 9.56 On three pillars, two figures of the ruler appear with two divine images, one on each side, with monumental cryptography on each side as well; on the fourth pillar, the royal cryptographic titulary appears on but one side, accompanying the image of Thoth, the other three sides of that pillar bearing portions of the Sixth Division of the Book of Caverns.57 On the sides of the pillared hall are the bulk of the Sixth Division of the Book of Caverns and the Concluding Scene thereof on the right, and the Eleventh and Twelfth Hours of the Book of Gates and the Concluding scene of that treatise on the left. Accompanying the final portions of two Netherworld Books, both ending at a double scene of the king offering to enthroned solar-Osiris, the cryptographic titulary in the tomb of Ramesses VI – as in the Ramesside court at Luxor Temple (see below) – represents the ruler as solar icon, at the point of rejuvenation of the sun (as with the cryptography of the Fourth and Fifth Hours of Amduat) and reconciliation of the solar and Osirian aspects (as with the cryptography in the Fifth Division of the Book of Caverns and the Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity), in the presence of enthroned Osiris (as with the cryptography in the scene of the Judgement Hall of Osiris in the Book of Gates). Cryptography represents a mediated liminal event, as the king as chief solar priest is the supreme mediator of the rituals that ensure the continuation of such cosmic events. The boundary crossing ruler as reconciler of cosmic opposites appears orthographically as cryptographic titulary.

Cryptography in the Ramesside Forecourt of Luxor Temple Just as Netherworld Book cryptography allows a “test” of cryptographic readings through iconography, so do cryptographic annotations at Luxor Temple allow for an entire architectural ensemble of scenes and texts to serve as a “test” for an interpretation of the motivations behind the use of Monumental Cryptography. Luxor Temple is the one New Kingdom monument where two cryptographic categories – Monumental and Annotational – appear in a large and substantially intact, nonfunerary architectural ensemble. In the Ramesside Forecourt of Luxor Temple, cryp-

56 Abitz 1989, 88–94; for the decoration of the room see Abitz 1989, 61–94. Piankoff, Rambova 1954, 118, fig. 21 and addenda figs. 150–152, are a diagram and photographs of the elements on the pillar. 57 The scenes represent portions of all three registers of the Sixth Division (see Piankoff, Rambova 1954, 117–119), as though presenting a precis thereof. The texts include the litany preceding the concluding scene of the treatise, and the text of the fourth depiction in the first register, pointedly separated from its accompanying image by the third depiction in the first register, and containing juxtaposed address by Re and Osiris-Orion (Piankoff, Rambova 1954, addenda fig. 150).

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tography appears in a monumental titulary on the architraves of the east interior portion of the Ramesside court, and on the east tower of the pylon within the same court, in a discontinuously cryptographic text in which the king describes searching the temple library for esoteric knowledge. Within the decorative and architectural program of the court, cryptography focuses on the eastern side of the court, realm of the rising sun, and reflects the divine aspect of the ruler whose children and mineral-bearing subject regions process into the court to enact the deification of the ruler. Although these scenes are probably later than the initial, Year 3 decoration, which included the cryptographic texts, they reflect an overall textual and iconographic plan for the court.

The Year 3 Text with Cryptographic Elements – Ramesses II Learns How to Build a Temple In a Late Middle Kingdom version of the Königsnovelle focused on heroic scholarship, the stela of Neferhotep I from Abydos describes how that ruler, accompanied by “true hieroglyphic scribes” and “masters of mysteries,” personally searched the sacred library for instructions on the proper appearance of the statue of Osiris. The royal preparation thereof – god on earth making image of his progenitor as god in the Netherworld – results in the king receiving an eternal sustenance from the offerings in the temple and the adoration of his own royal name. The ruler does not merely find the book, or simply order the creation of a proper statue, but oversees the artistic transformation of the precious raw materials into the cosmically more precious result of learning, mining, metallurgy, and artistry that was the divine image.58 An inscription of Ramesses II at Luxor Temple describes a similar royal visit to a library to seek out the original pattern for planned work at Luxor Temple.59 The text describes the learning that would, through combination with the quarrying and mining to which the decoration of the court alludes, and through the agency of ritual activities implicit in the procession of the royal children and festival scenes in the same court, ultimately produce the transformative conjunctions of place, event,

58 The text is Helck 2002, 21–29. See the remarks and references in Müller 2005. 59 Parallel to the increased appreciation for earlier monuments in evidence in New Kingdom visitors’ graffiti (Peden 2001; Navrátilová 2007; Darnell 2013, 73–74 and 79–81), Amenhotep III appears to have consulted earlier records in preparation for his Jubilee celebration (see Leblanc 2011, 67– 75). A Predynastic palette, recarved on one side for Amenhotep III and Tiye (Hartwig 2008, 195– 209), suggests reality behind the claim. Documents consulted could be ancient indeed – a graffito at the Nag el-Hamdulab site reveals a Ramesside visitor’s interest in rock art of the nascent First Dynasty (Hendrickx, Darnell, Gatto 2012, 1078, fig. 12; Darnell 2015).

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imagery, regalia, and person that occurred during the celebrations of the festivals – Opet, Min, and Decade – that focused on Luxor Temple. In the main Year 3 text on the East wall of the Luxor Temple pylon, Ramesses II relates the cosmographic knowledge he derived from reading certain books in the library of the House of Life (pr-ʿnḫ). The text utilizes several unusual hieroglyphs, visual clues to the arcane nature of the information that Ramesses’ archival sleuthings uncovered. In the following rendering of the opening of the narrative portion of the inscription, the cryptographic elements are underlined:60 ʿḥʿ.n ḏʿr ḥm=f ỉs n(y) sẖȝ.w pgȝ.n=f sẖȝy.w pr-ʿnḫ rḫ.n=f ỉmn.wt nyw p.t sštȝ nb nyw tȝ gm.n=f Wȝst ỉr.t-Rʿ m ḳȝȝ ḫpr ḥȝ.t wn tȝ pn … [Ỉ]mn-Rʿ m nsw.t ḥȝy=f ḥr.t psd=f šnw ḥr mȝȝ s.t sḫn.t=f ȝḫ.t=f wnm.t=f Wȝs.t m nỉw.t Ỉwnw Šmʿ ỉȝb.t=f m Ḥkȝ-ʿnḏw spȝ.t Ỉwnw Mḥw nsw.t-bỉty Ỉmn-Rʿ nḥḥ rn=f ḏ.t sšm=f kȝ=f wnn.t nb.t ḏd nsw.t-bỉty Wsr-Mȝʿ.t-Rʿ stp.n=Rʿ n šps.w=f wnn.w m-ḫt=f His majesty sought out the library (“chamber of writings”). No sooner did he unroll the writings of the House of Life, than he became aware of the hidden matters of heaven, and every secret of the earth. What he discovered was: Thebes, the Eye of Re, was a primordial highland, when this land was …,61 Amun-Re being king, illumining heaven and brightening the circuit (of the sun), looking for a place where he might set down his luminous eye (his right eye – the Theban nome – is in the city of Upper Egyptian Heliopolis, his left eye is in the Heliopolitan nome, namely Lower Egyptian Heliopolis) As for the king of Upper and Lower Egypt Amun-Re: his name is cyclical eternity, his image is linear eternity, all that exists is his ka-spirit. The king of Upper and Lower Egypt, Usermaatre-setepenre speaks to his nobles who are in his entourage …

The unusual and cryptographic orthographies provide a précis of the text: unrolling the scroll revealed the primordial city of Thebes to be the place of the luminous solar eye. Ultimately the title of Amun-Re as primordial ruler, setting down the luminous solar eye, relates to the title of Ramesses II, who appears as Thoth bringing the solar eye.

60 KRI II 346, 5–9; see also Redford 1971; Redford 1986, 91. For ḫpr ḥȝ.t – cf. Wb. III 22, 6; ALex. 79.1876. 61 Compare Klotz 2012c, 42 (in a text from Philae, Thebes is the temple of Osiris’ birth-brick, and the Eye of Re in which the god was born) and 44–45 (§ 3.2, citing Clère 1961, pls. 38–39).

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The unusual orthographies begin with the determinative to pgȝ; only when the scroll is unrolled and the king’s scholarly ability engages with the difficult contents of the archives does graphic embellishment and cryptography appear. The two references to a king, Amun-Re and Ramesses II, serve to relate the two, and provide an end to the first portion of the text, and beginning of the final section. The halves relate chiastically on the basis of the cryptography, with Ramesses and Amun equated, the construction in the court corresponding to the divine city of Thebes herself, the solar eye(s) forming the focus of both halves. What Ramesses saw in the library is revealed to the reader of his inscription as having been arcanely beautiful, and the texts explains the meaningfully difficult material through which Ramesses worked by means of graphic perculiarities in the Year 3 text. Learning the nature of the macrocosm, Ramesses knows how to reproduce it in the temple microcosm. Beginning with the king learning of the “hidden matters of heaven, and every secret of the earth” – both celestial and chthonic mysteries62 – the text concludes with the realization of that knowledge in the royal constructions at Luxor Temple. At the end of the text, Ramesses records that the construction was completed (on some day in the middle or latter portion of the fourth month of akhet during regnal year three):63 … m kȝ.t=s nb.t m ḥm.t rsy-ỉnb=f m ỉnr n(y) mȝṯ […] sȝḥ rwḏ.t ḥḏ ỉnr nb.t mȝʿ.t rn=s nfr mn [wȝḥ(.t)] ˹m˺ [ḥw.t-nṯr Rʿ-ms-sw mry-Ỉmn ẖnm.t nḥḥ] … in all its work as the craftsmanship of the One-South-of-his-Wall, in granite […], a sȝḥ-shrine64 of white sandstone and all precious stones,65 its beautiful name “May [the Bark Shrine] Endure ˹in˺ [the temple of Ramesses-Meryamun United with Eternity.]” 66

62 As Setne Khaemwaset learns when he unwisely reads the Book of Thoth. 63 KRI II 347, 3–4. 64 The sign at the beginning of l. 13 represents a male figure in an evocation of the smiting pose, atop the lower portion of the sign Gardiner D61, the latter having the phonetic value sȝḥ. The term sȝḥ for a shrine appears in the inscription of Setau from Wadi es-Seboua – Wente 1985, 349, l. 13 (l. 17 of the inscription [probably not a variant for sḥ as suggested Wente 1985, 357, n. ww]); the word is probably related to sȝḥ as a term for a support (Hannig 2006, 2089). For sȝḥ as land endowment, a less likely sense for the word, see KRI II 874, 15; also Hannig 2006, 2088; Wilson 1997, 792. KRITANC II 210 cites Redford (1971, 117, n. y), for suggesting bỉȝt or bḫn as reading for the sign. 65 On ỉnr for ʿȝ.t, “precious stone,” see Grandet 1994, vol. 2, 27 (120). The n of rn is clear on the wall. 66 This fragmentary name is that of the bark shrine behind the opposite pylon – (Nims 1955, 115; the preserved name, omitting the m after wȝḥ.t, appears in the Amun shrine [KRI II 614, 7–8]). The stone shows a space for a wȝḥ-sign to right, with the head of an owl in the middle of the group (Kitchen’s copy places the head of the owl too close to the right side of the line) – compare the similar name of the bark shrine of Sety II in the First Court of Karnak (KRI IV 253, 15): ˹mn wȝḥ.t˺ [Stḫ]y-mr.n Ptḥ m pr-Ỉmn. The term for bark shrine is wȝḥ(y).t (Wb. I 258, 4; Cabrol 2001, 531–532); a proposed compound mn-wȝḥ (cf. Konrad 2006, 183 with nn. 1273 and 1275) is illusory.

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A figure in roughly the pose of the man in the composite sign for sȝḥ-shrine represents Sȝḥ, Orion,67 associated with the south, and as ba-soul of Osiris a counterpart to the stellar form of the solar eye goddess as Sothis.68 The cryptography, briefly resumed at the end of the text, evokes the early emphasis on the cosmic eyes as it refers to the tipartite bark shrine. Within the architectural asymmetry of the north interior portion of the Ramesside court, the physicality of the bark shrine on the west side of the court – the three dimensional present – finds a mirror in the textual background of the Year 3 inscription on the east side of the court – the two dimensional memory of the past, and the scholarly basis of the architecture.69 The association of esoteric, cosmographic knowledge with practical construction matters, evident in the Year 3 text, is similar in greatly syncopated form to that in the demotic text P. Vienna D.6319 (apparently a translation out of earlier Middle Egyptian), and in the demotic Book of the Temple.70 The consultation of earlier records that provides the basis for the Year 3 text reveals the cryptography of that inscription to be similar in significance to NonRoyal Cryptography of the New Kingdom. The ruler demonstrates his engagement with esoteric knowledge through cryptographic orthographies. He has engaged specifically with cosmographic arcana, and has interpreted the cosmic significance of Thebes, her monuments, and specifically the bark shrine in the first court of Luxor Temple.

Cryptographic Titulary – The King as Embodiment of the ȝḫ.w of Thoth As the result of his research and subsequent oversight of the production of a divine statue, Neferhotep I partook of the future life of the statue and the corresponding adoration the royal name would receive. In the Ramesside court at Luxor Temple, Ramesses II reveals his research in cryptography, and through cryptography indicates the resulting adoration of his own royal name. The eastern architraves of the

67 A probable earlier writing of Sȝḥ, “Orion,” as a composite sign – there a striding man atop a bound bull. Barbotin, Clère 1991, fig. 3, l. 17 (bottom) and pl. 7b; also discussed in Van Leer 2013, 20–22. 68 See the references in von Lieven 2000, 26 and n. 98; Herbin 2003, 71, 82–83, and 100–102; Klotz 2012c, 129–130 with n. 726 (§ 4.29), 213 n. 1459 (§ 4.52), and 331 (§ 5.10.2.1). 69 The appearance of the name of Sety I in the depiction of the veil of the bark of Amun in the Luxor Ramesside shrine (cf. Karlshausen 2009, 81) indicates that Ramesses’ research focused on larger architectural matters, not on portable cult items. 70 P. Vienna D.6319, see Reymond 1977. For the unpublished Demotic Book of the Temple, see preliminary articles, including: Quack 2000; Quack 2002; Quack 2005; Quack 2007.

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Ramesside court bear the names and epithets of Ramesses II in cryptography, corresponding to the same in standard orthography on the western architraves.71 The cryptography in the Ramesside forecourt of Luxor Temple is restricted to the east half of the court, the left side of the main axis for the visitor, right side for the deity leaving his temple in procession – the dominant side – and the side of the rising sun.72 The east side of the Ramesside court is also the back, innermost portion of the court with regard to its own east-west axis, employed during the Decade Festival – when Amun of Karnak would visit Luxor, exit through the west portal of the forecourt, and then return through that same portal into Luxor Temple73 – and apparently during the riverine version of the Opet Procession as well.74 That Ramesses II appears to have codified the Decade Festival, if he did not himself inaugurate the standard New Kingdom celebration thereof,75 reveals the architecturally “interior” aspect of the cryptographic half of the forecourt. By orienting his cryptographic titulary from the perspective of the cosmic deity and the East-West axis of the forecourt, Ramesses II focused activity in the court following that axis onto his own deified self. Just as non-royal cryptography may ultimately express the knowledge and mystery-interpreting abilities of the scribe,76 so royal cryptography accomplishes the same. The well-educated scribe – including the erudite ruler – may be bsỉ-initiated, giving the literate adept access to stores of knowledge that may be encapsulated by the term ȝḫ, “effective pronouncement.” On the Eighteenth Dynasty statue Cairo 583, the scribe Amenhotep Son of Hapu is appointed and initiated (bs.kw) “so that I might see the ȝḫ.w of Thoth, and become skilled in their mysteries, having unrolled all their difficult passages so that one consults with me at their every occurrence.” 77 Knowledge allows the explication of what is difficult, and conversely the revealing through difficult passages of the ȝḫ.w of Thoth – even through cryptography – demonstrates active knowledge. Through knowledge of the ȝḫ.w of Thoth the properly equipped ruler maintains the balance of the cosmos; as in religious cryptography the enigmatic script mirrors the liminal boundary between order and chaos.78 71 References in Klotz 2013, 169–176. 72 See the remarks of Spalinger 2010, 436 et passim. 73 For the early history of the Decade Festival, see Doresse 1979, 37–38; see also the references and discussion in Klotz 2012c, 52–58, 385–386, et passim. 74 See Cabrol 2001, 526. 75 For possible associations of Luxor Temple and Medinet Habu during the reign of Amenhotep III, see Darnell, Manassa 2007, 226, n. 138. The reference in KRI II 607, 14, at least reveals the Decade Festival as one point of Ramesses’ constructions at Luxor Temple. 76 Compare Diego Espinel 2014, 329. 77 Borchardt 1925, 136 and pls. 100–103, horizontal l. 12: dhn.kw r sš-nswt ẖry-tp bs.kw grt ḥr mḏȝ.tnṯr pgȝ.n=ỉ ỉtn.w=sn nb.w nḏnḏ=tw m-ʿ=ỉ m sp=sn nb. The term bsỉ refers to crossing a liminal boundary – see the basic study of the verb in Kruchten 1989, 147–202; on bsỉ and sunrise, see Malaise 1990, 691–692. 78 A bandeau text in the solar chapel in the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu (The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu 6, pls. 421–423) reveals that the intelligent and properly schooled ruler,

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As late as the reign of Hadrian, the proper ruler was the tỉ.t ḏsr.t, “sacred image” or “sign” of Thoth as ʿm-tȝ.wy, “earth knower,” and rs sḥtp wḏȝ.t m tpy.w-rȝ=f, “guardian who pacifies the Eye with his pronouncements.” 79 In the Ornamental Cryptography of royal names, the ruler is visible in the tỉ.t-images – the hieroglyphs – through which he manifests his name. The cryptographic titulary of Ramesses II in the First Court focuses, like the cryptography in the Year 3 inscription, on the person of the ruler. In the latter the cryptography conveys the concepts that the ruler’s research wrested from ancient texts in a manifestation of royal mental acumen. In the monumental titulary, the ruler himself becomes a liminal being. According to the King as Solar Priest, the royal name is a solar icon – it occupies heaven like Re, enjoys a life like that of the eastern sun, and is the object of popular worship:80 rḏỉ.n Rʿ nsw.t N tp tȝ n ʿnḫ.w n nḥḥ ḥnʿ ḏ.t ḥr wḏʿ rmṯ ḥr sḥtp nṯr.w ḥr sḫpr mȝʿ.t ḥr sḥtm ỉsf.t ỉw=f ḏỉ ḥtp.wt n nṯr.w pr.t-ḫrw n ȝḫ.w ỉw rn n nsw.t N m p.t mỉ Rʿ ỉw ʿnḫ=f m ȝw.t-ỉb mỉ Rʿ- Ḥr-ȝḫ.ty ḥʿʿ pʿ.t n mȝȝ=sn sw ỉr n=f rḫy.t hnw m ỉrw=f n(y) nḫn

pr.t Rʿ m Ḫprỉ

§6

Re has set king N upon the earth for the living forever and ever, judging men and pacifying the gods, bringing about Maat and destroying evil. He gives offerings to the deities and funeral offerings to the blessed dead. The name of king N is in heaven like Re, He lives in joy like Re-Horakhty. §7

Through seeing him the pʿ.t-folk rejoice, the rḫy.t-folk performing hnw-jubilation for him, in his visible form of the child – (it is) the going forth of Re as Khepri.

A passage in P. Chester Beatty IV recto 8, ll. 3–4, describes how the name of a deity – Amun in that passage – serves as a magical talisman, a protective force:81 wnn rn=k r my-ḥʿ.w n wʿ nb nḥm m-ʿ Ḫnty

wḏȝ snb n nty-ḥr-mw sḫȝ nfr n ȝ.t ḥw-ny-ḥr

“intelligent like Re, insightful like the one-in-Hermopolis (Thoth), brilliant son who has come forth from Atum” (ỉp mỉ Rʿ wḥʿ-ỉb mỉ ỉmy-Ḫnmw sȝ sbḳ pr m Ỉtm) is one “who overthrows the enemy (Apep as a magically killed serpent) by means of the ȝḫ-pronouncements on the tip of his tongue, [who causes] that the (solar) bark travels in joy” (sḫr ḫfty m ȝḫw.w tp-rȝ=f […] nʿy wỉȝ m ȝw.t-ỉb). The ruler should have such ȝḫ-pronouncements at his ready disposal in order properly to convey offerings to Amun (Varille 1950, pl. 33, l. 2; Klotz 2008; Klotz 2012c, 311–314 [with parallels]; see also Darnell 2013, 52). 79 See Klotz 2012c, 328–329; see Labrique 1992, 215, n. 978, for the “earth knower” epithet. 80 Assmann 1970, 19. 81 Gardiner 1935, pls. 15 and 15A.

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Your name will be: protection of the limbs for everyone, prosperity and health for one on the water, savior from the grasp of the Crocodile,82 good memory83 in the time of trouble.

The name as equivalent of the thing or being belongs to the Memphite concept of creation, naming as a means of differentiation from oneness. The royal name is associated with worship at certain monuments, particularly the “temples of millions of years.” The great Hypostyle Hall of Karnak Temple, itself a temple of millions of years, is a place for the veneration of the royal name – according to No. 67 of the architrave texts of the Hypostyle Hall, the king has constructed the monument for his father Amun-Re; the monument is then specified as being:84 ḥw.t-nṯr šps(.t) m ỉnr hḏ nfr n rwḏ.t s.t swȝš n rḫy.t ḥr rn wr n ḥm=f an august temple of fine light sandstone, a place of popular worship in the great name of his majesty.

Texts in the Chonsu and Mut shrines of the triple bark shrine of Ramesses II in the first court of Luxor Temple refer to the structure as a “place of making petition (snmḥ) and hearing supplications (sḏm spr.wt) to the gods.” 85 A text below the scene on the west wall of the central Amun shrine in the triple bark shrine of Sety II in the first court of Karnak Temple describes in more detail how the king made the monument for his father Amun-Re-king-of-the-gods:86 m ḫft-ḥr n(y) Ỉp.t-s.wt s.t sn.t-tȝ swȝš snmḥ n nṯr.w nb.w in the dromos of Karnak, a place of proskynesis, swȝš-adoring, and making petition to all the gods

Through his work on difficult texts Ramesses II succeeded in properly constructing the Ramesside court at Luxor Temple, in which his own name as solar icon, cryptographic representation of the proper ruler as embodiment of the ȝḫ.w-pronouncements of Thoth, served as a focus of worship and a guarantee that the prayers of those visiting the court would find divine ears able to hear.

82 Note that ḫnty, “crocodile,” has a divine determinative (the orthography is that of LGG V, 936, Ḫnty no. 3, although the Chester Beatty IV example does not appear there). See also Assmann 1995, p. 198 and n. 50. 83 The sḫȝ nfr is also the potentially efficacious memory of the deceased – compare a passage from a Twenty-Sixth Dynasty text (see Jansen-Winkeln 1999, 88, ex. A.4.b.21): swȝḥ sw nṯr ḥr tp tȝ ȝḫ=f m ḥr.t-nṯr sḫȝ=f nfr m rȝ ny ʿnḫw, “the deity will make him endure upon the earth, he will become an effective spirit in the necropolis, his good memory in the mouth(s) of the living”; the sḫȝ nfr appears to be parallel to the development of ȝḫ-power. 84 Rondot 1997, 79–80 and 31*–32*, with pl. 31. On swȝš-worship note Spalinger 2009, 42 and 48. 85 KRI II 616, 3; 616, 16–617, 1. 86 KRI IV 254, 5–7; Chevrier, Drioton 1940, color frontispiece and pl. 10.

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The cryptographic titulary on the eastern architraves of the Ramesside court at Luxor Temple represents a divine ruler, a union of natures, mirroring the use of cryptography in the Netherworld Books to evoke the mystery of the union of Re and Osiris. As in the cryptographic passages in many of the Netherworld Book examples, the cryptographic titulary is directly translated into normal orthography on the architraves in the western portion of the Ramesside court. The cryptographic names and epithets of Ramesses II at Luxor present the royal name as the largest of Amuletic Cryptographic creations. The titulary, epithets, and references to construction in the Ornamental cryptographic text on the architraves of the east half of the temple reproduce the information relayed in the semi-cryptographic portion of the Year 3 text.

Marching Mountains Although the Year 3 text and the Ornamental Cryptographic frieze do not dwell on the intimate relationship between research, acquisition of resources, manipulation of materials, and resulting divinization of the ruler – more fully expressed in the Königsnovelle text of Neferhotep I – the totality of the decoration in the Ramesside forecourt reveals this interdependence of control and re-formation of materials to aggrandize divinity and divinize royalty. Ramesses II’s decorative program in the first court of Luxor Temple links festivals, rituals involving the royal children, and exploitation of natural resources. The layout of material in the court reflects the use of cryptography to relate research that crossed the boundary between the transcendental and imminent worlds, with the divine manifestations in the eastern half of the court – the “cryptographic realm” – finding human counterparts in the western half of the court. In the eastern portion of the Luxor forecourt, thirty-one male figures personify the flood and – the numerically dominant group – mining regions. As appropriate to the god who returns the wandering Eye goddess to Egypt, and thereby brings the goddess and her mineral manifestations out of the desert, an address by the deity Thoth introduces a procession of personified mineral producing regions, headed by a figure representing the Nile Flood.87 On the interior east portion of the south wall and the southern portion of the interior east wall appear two groups in succession – marching as though about to enter the interior portions of the temple – representing the south and the east: the Nile flood with six regions of Nubia, and Aswan (as the place of the origin of the flood) with six regions of the Eastern Desert; between the

87 Porter, Moss, Burney 1972, 307 (26) base (termed “towns”), and 308 (28) III; KRI II 617–621. For the characterization of Thoth, see inter alia Aufrère 2007, 320–321, et passim.

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two groups appears the Mountain of Turquoise (Sinai).88 Then come personifications of regions of the Western Desert, followed by the more distant Mediterranean and Near Eastern worlds (Cyprus, Alasia, Asia Minor, and Babylon; Crete and the Aegean Islands; northern Mesopotamia [Nineveh and Naharin], Syria, and the Levantine ports [pḥw-regions]).89 These representations of mining regions are the earliest antecendents of the lists of mineral bearing regions in temples of the Graeco-Roman Period,90 and unique in revealing a parallelism between the procession of personified mining regions and a procession of royal children. In Luxor the personified regions process into the first court of the temple as the interior east wall counterparts to the line of royal children who are depicted as though entering the temple in the western portion fo the court.91 In the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu the royal children bring in the materials made from the products of mines and quarries (see below) as they perform a ritual for the king. The Luxor scenes are in essence a listing and division of the elements of the Medinet Habu scene, listing the origins and identities of the minerals and humans who come together in the solarizing ritual.

Transformative Jewelry In rituals the royal offspring could present jewelry to the ruler, thereby transforming the ruler into the deities whose artfully worked exudations have become the very stones and metals of the transformative jewelry of the divine ruler’s regalia. The process of transforming the raw material into the trappings of ritual is an interpretative process, like the royal consultation of difficult old texts. The metallurgist Ankhy, in his tomb at Saqqara, refers to himself as the “interpreter of the eye of Horus” (ỉȝʿw n ỉr.t Ḥr).92 Ankhy, as metalworker, translates raw materials into images of what they symbolically represent, and helps those who do not speak the language of the stones and metals understand the inner workings of the cosmos. This use of “interpreter” appears also in the epithet of an Heracleopolitan Period “physician of the great house, interpreter of a štȝ-mysterious craft” (swnw pr-ʿȝ ỉȝʿw ḥmȝ.t štȝ.t).93

88 The Pure Mountain (ḏw wʿb) that appears as No. 10 may be in the Eastern Desert, “à la latitude du Ouâdî-Hammâmât” – see Aufrère 1991, vol. 1, 19, citing Desroches-Noblecourt, Kuentz 1968, 203–204, n. 342; ḏw wʿb here apparently encompasses the wider gold mining region of the Eastern Desert, with Edfu and Coptos as more specific portions of the broader region. 89 For the pḥw regions of the north, note Gabolde 2004, 139 and n. 27. 90 Aufrère 1991, vol. 1, 731 (with 731–787 et passim for the Graeco-Roman versions of the procession). 91 KRI II 608–609. 92 Goyon 1959, 10; Bell 1976, 63–65; see also Morenz 1997a (although he does not appear to discuss the title of Ankhy, which clarifies the practical significance of the “trade” use of ỉʿȝ). 93 Fischer 1964, 29.

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Products of artistic interpretation may become icons more real in a sense than the more inscrutable, un-interpreted original. A gold worker of Amun commissioned a stela with a short hymn to Re “when he rises in order that his setting in life might occur (ḫft wbn=f r ḫpr ḥtp=f ),” referring to the deity as “Re in his rising, Atum in his setting.” The artisan imagines the deity as a jewel-like image, scarab above šn-ring flanked by uraei with disks and horns; the winged scarab holds up/heads toward a large disk.94 Even in more recent cultures – compare the metallurgists of West Africa, particularly the ironworkers of Cameroon – religion and applied science are elements of a single practice. An execration figurine that appears to single out a metallurgist for psychic attack may hint at a fear of that metal worker’s own supernatural powers.95 In Graeco-Roman Period temples, the offering to Hathor of a broad collar of “gold and lapis lazuli, mixed with all precious stones” evokes the goddess’ association with gold, silver, lapis lazuli, and precious stones: “gold of the gods, silver of the goddesses, lapis lazuli within the ennead.” 96 In exchange for the proferred collar, a mirror of her own costly components, the goddess grants the mineral produce of the mountain regions to the ruler – Hathor gives: “the mountains bearing their hidden things (štȝ.w), they giving birth for you to what is in them.” Likewise Horsomtus, in the same scene, says: “the quarries spew forth for you their marvels, consisting of all genuine precious stones.” 97 A direct connection exists between the materials forming the collar, and those making up the deity to whom the collar is offered. In offerings of the ousekh-collar, the constituent elements may be actual flowers, exhuding their sweet aromas, or they may be stones representing – even carved in the shapes of – the plants they ultimately represent.98 The deities give quarries to the king, who through his artisans reworks and returns metals and minerals as offerings to those deities. The head of the one wearing the collar – divinity,

94 Limme 1979, 26–27, 137, fig. 6, and 179, Cat. Doc. 17 (MRAH inv. E. 6252). 95 For the relationship between metallurgy, alchemy, and “occult” practices in ancient Egypt, see Posener 1984. An overview of more recent connections between religion and metallurgy in Cameroon appears in Rowlands, Warnier 1993. 96 The collar for Hathor: Chassinat 1935a, 20, l. 7. Hathor as goddess of the elements of the collar: Chassinat 1935b, 40, ll. 1–2: nwb n nṯr.w ʿrḳwr n nṯry.t ḫsb.t ỉmy.t psḏ.t (all excellent as protection – cf. Aufrère 1991, vol. 2, 553). 97 Hathor: Chassinat 1935b, 40, l. 2: ḏw.w ẖr štȝ.w ms=sn n=k ỉmy.t=sn; Harsomtus: Chassinat 1935b, 40, l. 4: ḳ(ȝ)ʿ n=k ẖȝ.wt bỉȝ=sn m ʿȝ.t nb(.t) n mȝʿ, “the quarries spew forth for you their marvels, consisting of all genuine precious stones.” For ẖȝ(t) as open-pit mine, see Grandet 1994, vol. 2, 263, n. 944. For the uses of ḳȝʿ, compare Wb. V 7, 7–8; Wilson 1997, 1045–1046. Amun as the entire landscape of Egypt may ḳȝʿ-spew forth the Nile – Klotz 2006, 161–162 (Creator Hymn col. 28); creative ḳȝʿ also appears in col. 8 (Klotz 2006, 141–142). Storehouses ḳȝʿ-spew forth gold and silver (The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu 3, pl. 138, l. 48). For fossils as divine concretizations, see Aufrère 1999; Welvaert 2002. 98 For Late Period collar offerings, Beaud 1990.

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king, statue, human, mummy – becomes the head of the solar deity emerging from the yet receding waters of Nun into the newly differentiated cosmos. In scenes in the Eastern High Gate at Medinet Habu, the daughters of Ramesses III present broad collars to the ruler. The accompanying texts record that they sang a song describing the body of the king in terms of precious stones.99 Like the sun the king is composed of precious stones, becoming a living image of the jewel encrusted cult image of Amun of Medinet Habu.100 The performance finds parallels in the song of the royal daughters and the queen in the Story of Sinuhe101 and during the Jubilee celebrations of both Amenhotep III and Akhenaton.102 The text of the latter song is in some way related to “your [scil. the king’s] ˹Jubilee˺ writings” (sḫȝ.w=k n ḥb[-sd …]), suggesting that the king may have authored the ỉhy-song itself. Graphic embellishments and cryptography are present in ancient Egyptian jewelry, being particularly well represented in pieces from the tomb of Tutankhamun.103 The juxtaposition of royal children and mining regions in the Ramesside court, the former on the same side of the court as that of the royal titulary in standard orthography, the latter on the side of the cryptographic titulary, makes a direct allusion to the transformative quality of jewelry. As unassuming as they may be, the cryptography of scarabs and the cryptographic and text-representational associations of other jewellery represent the totality of erudition and the mental and physical crossing of boundaries to transform raw materials into communicative products. Within both royal and non-royal bodily adornments, jewelry applies the cosmic significance of the artistically worked elements of the natural world to the human body, a transformation of the macrocosm to achieve a mirroring transformation of the bodily microcosm. Cryptography in such a context is consistent with the boundary crossing and solarizing aspects of ancient Egyptian cryptography. The decoration of the Ramesside court at Luxor demonstrates how the king’s knowledge, encompassing all aspects of human activity, has sought out the stones and sculptors to create the divine statues and the imagery of the court. In mining and accepting the tribute of foreign lands, the king makes possible his own divine nature through the interactions of his children and the products of the quarries and mines of the Egyptian world. The quarries of Egypt and Nubia, and the dependencies thereof, produce stones like a body emits effluvia. The open-pit mine as ẖȝ.t may ḳȝʿ-spew out a stone just as the corpse of Osiris may spew forth efflux, just as the caverns of the Nile may spew forth the inundation. Stones and gems again are

99 The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu, 8, pl. 630 et passim; see also Darnell 2016, 30–35. 100 Compare the description of the cult image of Medinet Habu in Papyrus Harris I, IV, 6: Grandet 1994, vol. 1, 227; vol. 2, p. 19 (nn. 78–79). 101 Derchain 1970; Westendorf 1977b. See also Morenz 1997b; and the introduction to Châtelet 2015 (ref. courtesy A. Stauder). 102 Spalinger 1988; Leblanc 2011, 87–90; Gohary 1992, 95 and pl. 47. 103 Silverman 1980, 199–203; see also Silverman 2015.

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concretations of liquids, fossilizations of divine effluvia. Both stones and solar corpse are štȝ-mysteries to be sought and comprehended. Through human artistry, stones may return praise.104

Transformative Communication in Egyptian Mining Practice Egyptian textual and iconographic imagery could present the products of the mines and quarries in the desert hinterlands of Egypt and Nubia as concretized exudations of the celestial goddess. The Pyramid Texts describe minerals as the star-like manifestations of the sky goddess;105 already Naqada II palette Cairo JdE 43103 depicts such a goddess, an object on which some of those very exudations would be worked into cosmetics.106 The preparation of eyepaint returns raw materials to their celestial mother, and working minerals in general was a transformative process, reintegrating elements of the divine body. The Serabit el-Qadim stela of Horwerre (Sinai no. 90, reign of Amenemhat III), describes how Hathor could inhabit a mineral, and reveal herself thereby. As a result of his experience working in extreme heat in Sinai, Horwerre addresses the reader:107 ỉm=ṯn bdš ḥr.w=ṯn ḥr=s m-ṯn dd s.t Ḥw.t-Ḥr n wȝḏ mȝ.n=ỉ r=ỉ ỉr.n=ỉ mn.t ỉm=ỉ ỉw.t=ỉ ḥr Km.t ḥr=ỉ bdš štȝ m ḥr=ỉ gm.t ỉnm=s mȝʿ šm ḫȝs.t m šmw ḏw.w ḥr ȝbw ỉnm ẖn May your faces not be downcast because of it. Behold – through the green does Hathor reveal herself.108 Even as I have seen so have I done the like myself. 104 Aufrère (2007, 67–77) has called attention to an inscription and frieze of Ptolemaic date in the Temple of Karnak, in which a stone apparently praises. 105 Pyramid Texts Utterence 350 – Sethe 1908b, 292–293, § 567a-c: ỉ ỉȝ.t wr.t sṯ=s wȝḏ šsmt.t mfkȝ.t sbȝ.w. According to Sethe (1937, 64), a parallel for the opening exists in Book of the Dead chapter 17 – Urk. V 88, 3: sṯ.n=ỉ wȝḏ. For the Pyramid Text parallels, see Berger-El Naggar, Leclant, Mathieu, Pierre-Croisiau 2010, 196. 106 Asselberghs 1961, no. 118, pl. 63; Tiradritti 1999, 36–37. Compare also Arkell 1958; Burgess, Arkell 1958). 107 Gardiner, Peet, Černý 1952, pl. 26; Valbelle, Bonnet 1996, 14 and 119–120; also Pantalacci 1996; Kurth 1996; Aufrère 1991, vol. 2, 492–493; Iversen 1984b; Leprohon 2002. 108 The sign is F36 – so Kurth 1996, 58, n. 6 (although his “Hathor gibt es (das Türkis) gewiss dem, der Frisch (ans Werk geht)” is improbable). For the phrase dd s.t Ḥw.t-Ḥr n wȝḏ, compare the

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I came from Egypt, my face downcast – Mysterious in my view was the finding of her (Hathor’s) true color/skin, when the desert burns during the season of Shomou, the mountains burning like a brand, the color/skin pale/blistered.109

Finding the mineral is a štȝ-mystery. The color is the goddess and the turquoise through which she reveals herself. Humans must seek her, and transform the raw mineral into comprehensible works of art. The properly colored turquoise is an element in an infrequent designation of Hathor at Sinai – nb.t ỉnm nfr, “lady of the good color.” 110 The deities of Egypt created the materials out of which humans could in turn create images of those deities. The artisans Suty and Hor evoke their own work when they address the solar deity: “(How) Ptah-like are you, molding your limbs.” 111 The builder-king himself may conceive work as Thoth and carry it out like Ptah. An architrave text of Sety I in the Hypostyle Hall at Karnak describes the king as:112 nṯr nfr wn-ḥr mỉ Ptḥ sšȝ m rḫ mỉ nb Ḫmnw ʿḳ m sš.w mỉ Ḏḥwty ḥmww-ỉb mỉ rsy-ỉnb=f rḫ sw m ỉrt kȝ.t nb.t r nṯr ỉmy wnw.t=f The perfect god, intelligent like Ptah, experienced of knowledge like the lord of Hermopolis (Thoth), well-versed in writing like Thoth, artistically talented like South-of-his-wall (Ptah), more capable in carrying out all works than a (single) god at his best.

A chiasm of epithets likening to king to the gods of learning (Thoth) and artistry (Ptah) is framed and encompassed by the person of the king. As the human ruler

solar hymn of Suty and Hor, stela BM EA 826 (Helck 1958: Urk. IV 1944, 10): dỉ=k tw dwȝw ẖr.t-hrw, “you revealing yourself at dawn daily”); according to Wb. II 468, 11, rḏỉ with reflexive pronoun is especially well attested for the sun revealing itself. The green is the color of mfkȝ.t – see Aufrère 1991, vol. 2, 543. In Chassinat 1935b, 268, Hathor is wȝḏ-ỉnmỉ; for the wȝḏ amulet and the eye of the sun, see Aufrère 1991, vol. 2, 544–545. 109 Iversen (1984b) translates ẖn as “upset,” citing Ebers 56, 6 and 104, 8–9 (describing a boil [ḫsd], the ỉnm-color of which has waxed [rwḏ]); ẖn of the eye (Wb. III 384, 2–3) may describe a film or haze, perhaps also a cataract. 110 The epithet occurs in Sinai 124a, 126, 129A, and 312 – cf. Leprohon 2002, 341, n. 12. 111 For Ptah as patron of artists, and as icon, compare Osing 1977, 21 and n. 56; Brunner-Traut 1956, 25–26, pl. 7 [no. 10]; Assmann 1983, 124, n. d; Assmann 1969, 173; Anthes 1963; Allen 1988, 94 (Text 16, § A, l. 5). For the hymn of Suty and Hor, see the remarks of Assmann 1971, 16. For Ptah as the physical image of Re, see Darnell 2004, 358–363. 112 Rondot 1997, 13–15 and pl. 2 (no. 3 inf.).

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embodies the abilities of multiple deities, he therefore exceeds those of any single deity. Through transforming elements of creation, Egyptian quarrymen and metallurgists, sculptors and painters, could form images of primordial deities and reenact the activities of those divinities. Wadi el-Hudi inscription no. 143 (reign of Sesostris I, ca. 1990 BC) describes the cosmic significance of amethyst mining:113 wḏ.n n=f Gb ỉmn.wt=f ḫȝs.wt ḥnk ḏw.w ḥr ỉmȝ s.t nb.t dỉ.n=s sdḫ=s ỉn.w=f ʿšȝ m tȝ.w nb.w ḥww.tyw ḥr ỉr.t mr.t.n=f ỉmy.t ỉr.ty=f(y) m nb.wt smỉ.t ny=f ỉmy šnn.t ỉtn ỉnw n=f ỉr.t m ỉmy.w=s nb.t-ḫpr.w m ḳmȝ=s nb For him has Geb (the earth god) decreed his hidden things, hill lands presenting, mountains being kind. Every place has given what she conceals, his emissaries numerous in all lands, messengers doing what he has desired – that which is in his sight – on coasts and in deserts. To him belongs what the sun disk encircles, what the eye brings to him from what is in her, the mistress of transformations from all that she creates.

The eye as mistress of transformations manifests through the multicolored stones and minerals formed as part of the solar eye. Other products of foreign lands, even the diplomatic missions of Egyptian messengers, participate in the reorganization of matter from raw to refined, chaotic to ordered. What Ramesses II chose to depict within the first court at Luxor Temple is the totality of transformative communication he oversaw as ruler. The research into older texts and the revelation of that information in architecture, the mining of natural resources and the channeling of that into the temple cult through transformation of the raw materials, and the manipulation of those substances in rituals – especially those focused on the activities of the royal children – transformed the ruler and the cosmos, and allowed the elements of the cosmos, both animate and inanimate, to speak. The “mineralogical” associations of Ramesses’ research and subsequent realization of the fruits of that study appropriately center on the recognition of Thebes as the solar eye.

113 Sadek 1980, 84, ll. 6–9.

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Ramesses II as Geologist – Statues in Uncarved Stones The procession of mining regions in the Ramesside Court at Luxor Temple suggest an interest in geology on the part of Ramesses II, perhaps inherited from his father. A rock stela of Sety I at Aswan refers to the king identifying a new quarry, recognizing already within the as yet uncut rock the monuments that would come from the site. Sety sees not only the monuments from that site, but additional elements of those works that will derive from a quarry far to the north:114 gm.n ḥm=f ḥȝ.t m mȝw.t n tw.wt ʿȝ.w(t) n km ḥʿ.w=sn ỉry m ḏw dšr (ny) ḏw bỉȝ.t Then his majesty found a new quarry, containing colossal statues of black (granite), their crowns thereof from the red mountain of the mountain of quartzite.

According to the Manshiyet es-Sadr Stela of Ramesses II (ca. 1250 BCE), the king inaugurated a quarry near Heliopolis through the act of identifying and imagining, and thereby illuminating, the area of the quarry. Somewhat later, Ramesses discovered another quarry nearby:115 ỉstw gm.n ḥm=f k.t ẖȝ.t r-gs=f m tw.wt m bỉȝ.t Now his majesty found another quarry near it, containing statues of quartzite

The Sety I and Ramesses II texts make explicit the concept that monuments are latent within the stone, and the mind of the king, as it conceived the quarry, so here has discovered the statuary already therein, images only seeking release through the skill of Egyptian artists. As in the Enneads of the third century philosopher Plotinus, the artist conceives an image with the mind and then imposes it on matter, imitating the action of the creator. The creative process is one of physical removal of the psychically formed from within a matrix of unformed matter.116 True creation

114 Habachi 1973, 113–125; KRI I 73, 6–13 (citing here ll. 11–12 – note m mȝw.t for n mȝw.t, and n tw.w.t for m tw.wt. 115 KRI II 360, 7–362, 12 (quoting p. 361, ll. 8–9); see also De Putter 1997. 116 Armstrong 1984, 236–238; also Alexandrakis, Moutafakis 2002, 28–29, n. 21 et passim; Barasch 1995, 178. For Michelangelo reviving Plotinus’ concept that “the form of a statue is extricated from the recalcitrant stone,” see Panofsky 1972, 180–181. De Tolnay (1964, 96–97) notes the similar concept of a statue of Hermes potentially being within a block, in a discussion of potentiality in Aristotle’s Metaphysics IX, 6.

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occurs in the mind,117 and the act that allows all to view the physical manifestation of the event is achieved through a removal of material. The visualization of a statue within an unworked stone is at the heart of the Egyptian Opening the Mouth Ritual. The sem-priest contemplates the shape of a statue, perhaps in a self-induced trance state, and then proceeds to lay out the grid and views of the statue on the sides of a rectilinear block of stone, before the sculptors begin their work. The statue is somehow within the stone, and must be liberated – the final ordered object, the statue as element of a balanced pair of final image and the external scultptural detritus of stone carved away from the statue, emerges from the primal matrix in which the statue and the surrounding stone are linked.118 The association of the sem-priest with the liberation of latent iconicity from within its chaotic matrix may well have summoned forth the cryptography of Khaemwaset, son of Ramesses II and center of a school of Ramesside cryptography.119

Sculptural Worship By describing his discovery of the quarries, and his vision of the statuary within the stone, Ramesses II assumes the role of the sem-priest. This priestly preamble on the Manshiyet es-Sadr stela makes more explicable and appropriate Ramesses’ subsequent description of the worship inherent in the work of his artisans. After discovering the quarries, with their latent images awaiting sculptural release, Ramesses addresses the workmen who will free the images:120 nȝ n kȝ.ywt sṯpy.w ḫpšy.w rḫ.w ḏr.wt nty ḥr wḥȝ n=ỉ mnw(.w) m ṯnw nb n dwȝ.w m kȝ.wt ʿȝ.t mnḫ.t ʿḳy.w m mȝṯ ẖnm m bỉȝ.t ḳnw.w pr-ʿ m bȝk mnw mḥ=ỉ rȝ-pr.w nb ỉry=ỉ ʿḥʿ(.w)=sn nȝ ʿḥȝ.wtyw nfr.w tmy.w nn.w rsy.w kȝ.wt m ẖr.t-hrw r ỉrt ỉȝw.wt=sn ḏrỉ mnḫt nȝ ḏd.{ty}w ỉry m.k ḫft sḫr.w šm.{t}w ḥr nȝy=w smd.wt m ḏw nṯry sḏm ḏd.t.n=w n=tn mk ȝḫ.wt ỉm=tn wnw sp ḫft-m mdw.w

117 Compare Faulkner 1933, 60: “In my own mind I planned, so that there might become manifest a plenitude of manifestations of manifestations, consisting of both the manifestations of children and the manifestations of their children” (snṯ.n=ỉ m ỉb=ỉ ḏd=ỉ ḫpr ʿšȝ ḫprw.w nyw ḫprw.w m ḫprw.w nyw ms.w m ḫprw.w nyw ms.w=sn); different rendering in Smith 1998, 433, n. 23P. 118 See Fischer-Elfert 1998. 119 Collombert, paper presented at the Basel conference. 120 KRI II 361, 11–15.

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Oh you choice, capable, and dextrous workers, who hew for me all manner of monuments; Oh you who give praise through121 excellent costly stones, who are adept in granite, who are expert in quartzite, prolific122 and heroic in producing monuments, in order that I might fill all the temples (therewith), and that I might spend their lifetimes. Oh good men who never tire, who attend to the works daily in order to execute their office continually and excellently; Oh you who say:123 “Yes indeed!” 124 in accordance with the plans; who go out upon their work places125 in the divine mountain. Hear what has been said to you: Behold, beneficial things are in you – something remains in the face of words.126

According to Ramesses II, the work of his artists is a form of worship. At the same time, by donating those works to the temples, Ramesses may then spend the lifetimes of the images – creating immortal images he thereby attains a form of immortality. The work of the artists is a form of communication – praise – that is, if not more eloquent than words, a means of conveying something more than words alone could achieve. The creative acts of quarrying, mining, metallurgy, and sculpting ultimately allow the mineral world to speak, and praise the deities from whom raw materials come and to whose shrines the products made of them are dedicated.127

121 As dwȝ-praise is performed toward a higher individual, kȝ.t is apparently not the object, but rather an element in a nfr-ḥr construction “worshipful of work” – for dwȝ m, “to give praise by means of something,” compare Edgerton, Wilson 1936, 122, n. 8b. 122 The term ḳnỉ applied to work suggests the meaning of quantity that the term sometimes conveys – see Caminos 1954, 445. One might also translate “eager” – cf. ALex. 79.3137. 123 Reading nȝ ḏd.ty as nȝ ḏd.w. For n for nȝ, compare Edgerton, Wilson 1936, 55, n. 23c; Battle of Kadesh Bulletin § 69, L2 l. 16 (KRI II 116, 8). For the orthography of the Imperfective Active Participle here, compare the orthography ḏd.tw of the same in Kitchen 1980, 296, l. 13 (statue CGC 42155 [High Priest of Amun, Bakenkhons]). 124 For ỉry m.k, see Gardiner 1960, 22. 125 For this speculative meaning of smd.t see Hannig 2006, 2225, citing Chassinat, Palanque 1911, 79 and pl. 16 (l. 3 of the sarcophagus lid exterior). The writings šm.{t}w and ḏd.{ty}w could represent šm.t(y)=w and ḏd.ty=w as archaizing sḏm.ty=fy “future participles” (cf. Jansen-Winkeln 1996, 128, § 211). 126 For wn (undefined participle) sp as “something is left,” compare Černý, Groll 1984, 229, ex. 605; Groll 1970, 25; note also An. I 23, 8 wn ỉm=sn “some among them.” For ḫft m/n, Wb. III 274, 21–22 (contra Schipper 2005, 60, n. 115 with regard to the Wenamun examples). 127 In other cultures, objects and their decoration may be seen as latent within the matrix from which they are removed; the removal of two Peruvian queros from a single block of wood may take this concept to an extreme – Cummins 2002, 2729. Similarly, Incan sacred sites (huacas) are carved to release into discernable forms – usually geometric shapes – the sacred natures of the sites, on the basis of the concept of camay, “the supernatural vitalization of all material things for which there is a supernatural prototype, camac” (Cummins 2002, 28).

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The forecourt of Luxor Temple is home to deified colossi of Ramesses II, and bears the same name as the mortuary temple of the king.128 The statues of the forecourt represent the discovery and manipulation of štȝ-mysteries, transforming the ruler into a deity. The cryptography on the east side of the court, mirroring the standard orthography of the royal name on the west side, reveals the transformation of the king, employing enigmatic signs to mirror the king’s transformation into the living tỉ.t-sign of divinity. The cryptography relates aspects of construction in a form of iconic language – the reference to the constructions connects the ornamental cryptography to the annotational cryptography of the Year 3 text. By alluding to material one must know and mysteries one must solve before its composition, the cryptography, like the statuary, says something more than words and Normalschrift hieroglyphic texts. The concept of the solar eye ties together much of the imagery in the Ramesside forecourt. The king learns that Thebes is the eye, and employs the image of Thoth as the baboon bringing the eye in writing “king” as titles of both the god Amun and himself. The mining regions bring back fossilized exhudations of the goddess, and the royal children in a festival context appear to enact a ritual whereby contact of the royal body with the mineral wealth of Egypt’s desert hinterlands will transform the king into a living god. In Persian Period cryptographic texts at Hibis Temple, cult-theological information, royal names, and details of temple construction can appear together.129 Rather than being a smattering of disparate material mixed into the cryptographic sign list, these elements reveal the same interaction of royal knowledge and industry focusing on the divinized ruler, or the sacred name thereof, as we find in the Ramesside court of Luxor Temple. The other major Monumental Cryptography of the New Kingdom, the Ramesses II cryptographic texts from Aksha and Amara Temples in Nubia,130 refer to the king’s trade with Punt (a liminal region associated with spiritual beings in the cryptographic section of the Book of the Day), and the evidence that interaction provided for his rule of what the solar disk encircles. The Nubian temple cryptography may echo the solar significance of the southeast, and graphically represent the royal expedition’s approach to the “edge of the world.” The monumental cryptography of Ramesses II relates to the royal acquisition of the marvels of the hinterlands of Egypt, the mineral and other wealth of desert regions and foreign lands. The acquisition of this material – accessing, finding, removing, and transforming it through artistry and craft – involves štȝ-mystery, and ultimately focuses on the king, as instigator of the mining, quarrying, and artistic endeavors that ultimately focus – through object and ritual – on the transformation of his person from human to divine.

128 See the discussion and references in Spalinger 2010. 129 See Darnell, Klotz, Manassa 2013, 3–4, n. 17, and 14–15 with n. 67; Klotz 2014b. 130 Daneri Rodrigo 1985; Daneri Rodrigo 1990, 47–52.

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Summary The two forms of cryptography in the Ramesside court at Luxor Temple – Annotational in the Year 3 inscription and Monumental in the titulary on the eastern architraves – provide a graphic tie for the various architectural and pictorial elements of the court. Both occurrences of cryptography in the court relate to the erudite ruler as proper and cosmically oriented architect. The decoration of the court is bipartite; just as the cryptographic titulary of the east architraves finds a standard orthographic rendering on the west architraves, so the procession of children on the west interior walls of the court have a transcendental mirroring in the procession of mining regions on the east interior walls. The linkage of raw materials and the rituals and ritualists who employ the artistically transformed aspects of those minerals receives a literally higher interpretation through the cryptographic titualry of the transformed, solar ruler. Through use of cryptography, Ramesside court at Luxor Temple focuses on the ruler who ensures both the continuation of the solar cycle and his own complete apotheosis. Cryptography in the Netherworld Books is associated with transformative events – the rejuvenation of the sun, the union of Re and Osiris, the judgement of the dead, and the Osirian corpse as the space and time through which the solar counterpart moves, divine personification of the concept of štȝ-mystery. Non-royal cryptography demonstrates scribal knowledge, and in at least some applications retains an association with the entrance of the tomb, the liminal space for both the light of the sun and later visitors entering the sepulcher. Both non-royal and royal cryptography stress the knowledge of the scribe as bridge between the known and the unknown, interpreter of a štȝ-mystery. Cryptography expresses a concept of movement from hidden to clear, difficult to interpreted, a crossing of a dangerous boundary requiring knowledge. In all of its applications, New Kingdom Egyptian cryptography is the hallmark of one who through knowledge is able to transcend boundaries of space and time, one skilled in crossing barriers to understanding and proper perception. The knowledgable scribe who embellishes his palette with cryptographic texts, the king who employs cryptography to demonstrate what he learned in sleuthings through the eldritch rolls of temple libraries, or who extolls his expeditions to lands outside the normal ken of Egypt, the ruler who brings back and receives the minerals that through the transformative knowledge of ancient workmen become icons and images that further contribute to the living transformation of the king on earth – all of these reveal that cryptography implies the use of knowledge to cross boundaries of time and existence through the application of knowledge. The cryptographic process is an actor’s projection and reinterpretation through complex orthography of a previously completed process of interpretation of difficult and even cryptic material; cryptography represents at once an original and tertiary text, an original difficulty that was then comprehended by the astute scholar before the final transformation

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into cryptography, a final representation of the process of decrypting and re-encoding. As such, cryptography ultimately focuses on the unseen middle text, the mental understanding of the one who possesses the proper knowledge. The cryptographic text is a graphic embodiment of the concept of translation, in the sense of movement from one text to another, from one level of difficulty to another, from one state of existence to another.

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Pantalacci, L., 1996, “Un été à Serabit el-Khadim (encore sur l’inscription de Hourourrê, Sinaï n. 90),” GM 150, 87–91. Parkinson, R. B., 1991, Voices from Ancient Egypt: an Anthology of Middle Kingdom Writings, London. Parkinson, R. B., 2002, Poetry and Culture in Middle Kingdom Egypt: a Dark Side to Perfection, New York. Peden, A. J., 2001, The Graffiti of Pharaonic Egypt: Scope and Roles of Informal Writing (c. 3100– 332 B. C.). PdÄ 17. Peet, T. E., 1923, The Rhind Mathematical Papyrus, London. Piankoff, A., 1942, Le livre du jour et de la nuit. BdE 13. Piankoff, A., 1944, “Le Livre des Quererets,” BIFAO 42, 1–62. Piankoff, A., Rambova, N., 1954, The Tomb of Ramesses VI, 2 vols. ERTR 1. Porter, B, Moss, R. L. B., Burney, E., 1972, Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Reliefs and Paintings, vol. 2: Theban Temples, 2nd ed., Oxford. Posener, G., 1984, “Une nouvelle statuette d’envoûtement,” in: Fr. Junge (ed.), Studien zu Sprache und Religion Ägyptens. Zu Ehren von Wolfhart Westendorf überreicht von seinen Freunden und Schülern. Bd. 1: Sprache, Göttingen, 613–618. Priskin, G., 2003, “Cryptic Numerals Cubit Rods,” GM 192, 61–66. Quack, J. F., 2000, “Das Buch vom Tempel und verwandte Texte, ein Vorbericht,” ARG 2, 1–20. Quack, J. F., 2002, “Die Dienstanweisung des Oberlehrers im Buch vom Tempel,” in: H. Beinlich, J. Hallof, H. Hussy, C. von Pfeil (eds.), 5. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung. Würzburg 23.− 26. September 1999. ÄAT 33/3, 159–171. Quack, J. F., 2005, “Die Überlieferungsstruktur des Buches vom Tempel,” in: S. Lippert, M. Schentulait (eds.), Tebtynis und Soknopaiou Nesos. Leben im römerzeitlichen Fajum, Wiesbaden, 105–115. Quack, J. F., 2007, “Die Götterliste des Buches vom Tempel und die gauübergreifenden Dekorationsprogramme,” in: B. Haring, A. Klug (eds.), 6. Ägyptologische Tempeltagung. Funktion und Gebrauch altägyptischer Tempelräume, Leiden 4.−7. September 2002, Wiesbaden, 213–235. Redford, D. B., 1986, Pharaonic King-Lists, Annals and Day-Books: A Contribution to the Study of the Egyptian Sense of History. SSEA Publication 4. Redford, D. B., 1971, “The Earliest Years of Ramesses II, and the Building of the Ramesside Court at Luxor,” JEA 57, 110–119. Reymond, E. A. E., 1977, From the Contents of the Libraries of the Suchos Temples in the Fayyum, vol. 2: From Ancient Egyptian Hermetic Writings. Mitteilungen aus der Papyrussammlung der österreichischen Nationalbibliothek 11. Folge, Vienna. Richter, B. A., 2016, The Theology of Hathor of Dendera: Aural and Visual Scribal Techniques in the Per-wer Sanctuary. Wilbour Studies in Egyptology and Assyriology 4. Ritner, R. K., 1997 [1993], The Mechanics of Ancient Egyptian Magical Practice. SAOC 54. Roberson, J., 2007, “An Enigmatic Wall from the Cenotaph of Sety I at Abydos,” JARCE 43, 93–112. Roberson, J., 2013, The Awakening of Osiris and the Transit of the Solar Barques: Royal Apotheosis in a Most Concise Book of the Underworld and Sky. OBO 262. Roehrig, C. H. (ed.), 2005, Hatshepsut: From Queen to Pharaoh, New Haven and London. Rondot, V., 1997, La grande salle hypostyle de Karnak. Les architraves, Paris. Roulin, G., 1999, “Une formule au nom de Menkhéperrê sur sceaux-amulettes,” BSEG 23, 77–99. Rowlands, M., Warnier, J.-P., 1993, “The Magical Production of Iron in the Cameroon Grassfields,” in: T. Shaw, P. Sinclair, B. Andah, A. Okpoko (eds.), The Archaeology of Africa: Food, Metals and Towns, London and New York, 512–550. Ryhiner, M.-L., 1977, “À propos de trigrammes panthéistes,” RdE 29, 125–137. Sadek, A. I., 1980, The Amethyst Mining Insciptions of the Wadi el-Hudi, vol. 1, Warminster.

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Sauneron, S., 1957, Les prêtres de l’ancienne Égypte, Paris. Sauneron, S., Clère, J.-J., 1982, L’écriture figurative dans les textes d’Esna. Esna VIII. Schipper, B. U., 2005, Die Erzählung des Wenamun: ein Literaturwerk im Spannungsfeld von Politik, Geschichte und Religion. OBO 209. Schulman, A. R., 1988, “Catalogue of the Egyptian Finds,” in: B. Rothenberg, The Egyptian Mining Temple at Timna, Researches in the Arabah, 1959–1984, vol. 1, London. Seidlmayer, St. J., 1991, “Eine Schreiberpalette mit änigmatischer Aufschrift,” MDAIK 47, 319–330. Sethe, K., 1906, Urkunden der 18. Dynastie, Leiden = Urk. IV. Sethe, K., 1908a, “Die aenigmatischen Inschriften,” in: the Marquis of Northampton, W. Spiegelberg, P. Newberry, Report on Some Excavations in the Theban Necropolis during the Winter of 1898–9, London. Sethe, K., 1908b, Die altaegyptischen Pyramidentexten nach den Papierabdrucken und Photographien des Berliner Museums, bd. 1, Leipzig. Sethe, K., 1937, Übersetzung und Kommentar zu den altägyptischen Pyramidentexten, bd. 3, Glückstadt and Hamburg. Silverman, D. P., 1980, “Cryptographic Writing in the Tomb of Tutankhamun,” BIFAO 8, 199–203. Silverman, D. P., 2015, “The wȝḏ Amulet of Feldspar and its Implicit and Explicit Wish,” in: R. Nyord, K. Ryholt (eds.), Lotus and Laurel: Studies on Egyptian Language and Religion (in Honour of Paul John Frandsen). CNIP 39, 373–389. Smith, M., 1998, “A Demotic Coffin Inscription: Berlin ÄG Inv. 7227,” in: W. Clarysse, A. Schoors, H. Willems (eds.), Egyptian Religion: The Last Thousand Years 1. OLA 84, 425–440. Spalinger, A. J., 1988, “A Hymn of Praise to Akhenaten,” in: D. B. Redford (ed.), The Akhenaten Temple Project. Vol. 2: Rwd-Mnw, Foreigners and Inscriptions. Aegypti Texta Propositaque 1, 29–34 and fig. 16. Spalinger, A. J., 2009, The Great Dedicatory Inscription of Ramesses II. CHANE 33. Spalinger, A. J., 2010, “Ramesses II at Luxor: Mental Gymnastics,” Orientalia 79, 425–479. Spiegelberg, W., 1928, Demotica II. SAWB 1928/2. Stadler, M. A., 2010, “Metatranszendenztheologie im Alten Ägypten. Pyramidentextspruch 215 und der ramessidische Weltgott,” in: S. Ernst, M. Häusl (eds.), Kulte, Priester, Rituale. Beiträge zu Kult und Kultkritik im Alten Testament und Alten Orient. Festschrift für Theodor Seidl zum 65. Geburtstag. Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament 89, 3–31. Stauder, A. 2018. “Staging Restricted Knowledge. The sculptor Irtysen’s self-presentation (ca. 2000 BC),” in: G. Miniaci et al. (eds), The Arts of Making in Ancient Egypt, Leiden, 239–271. Taher, S. A. W., 2007–2008, “The Mosque in Luxor Temple,” Ancient Egypt 8/3, no. 45, 38–42. Taterka, F., 2015, “Ancient Egyptian Royal Cryptography in the Ramesside Period,” in: M. Zadka, et al. (eds.), Antropologia Komunikacji, Wroclaw, 71–89. Te Velde, H., 1988, “Some Remarks on the Mysterious Language of the Baboons,” in: J. H. Kamstra, H. Milde, K. Wagtendonk (eds.), Funerary Symbols and Religion. Essays dedicated to Professor M. S. H. G. Heerma van Voss on the occasion of his retirement from the Chair of the History of Ancient Religious at the University of Amsterdam, Kampen, 129–137. The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu 3: The Calendar, the “Slaughterhouse,” and Minor Records of Ramses III. OIP 23. The Epigraphic Survey, Medinet Habu 6: The Temple Proper, Part II. OIP 84. Tiradritti, Fr. (ed.), 1999, The Treasures of the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Valbelle, D., Bonnet, Ch., 1996, Le sanctuaire d’Hathor, maîtresse de la turquoise : Sérabit el-Khadim au Moyen Empire, Paris. Van Essche, É., 1997a, “À propos d’une figure-monogramme d’Abou Simbel,” GM 158, 81–86. Van Essche, É., 1997b, “La valeur ajoutée du signe déterminatif dans l’écriture figurative ramesside,” RdE 48, 201–217. Van Leer, K., 2013, A Textual Analysis and Commentary on the Tod Inscription of Sesostris I [unpublished senior thesis, Yale University].

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Varille, A., 1950, “Description sommaire du sanctuaire oriental d’Amon-Rê à Karnak,” ASAE 50, 137–172. Von Lieven, A., 2000, Der Himmel über Esna: eine Fallstudie zur Religiösen Astronomie in Ägypten. ÄgAbh 64. Welvaert, E., 2002, “The Fossils of Qau el Kebir and their Role in the Mythology of the 10th Nome of Upper-Egypt,” ZÄS 129, 166–184. Wente, E. F., 1985, “A New Look at the Viceroy Setau’s Autobiographical Inscription,” in: P. Posener-Kriéger (ed.), Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar, vol. 2. BdE 97/2, 347–359. Werning, D. A., 2008, “Aenigmatische Schreibungen in Unterweltsbüchern des Neuen Reiches: gesicherte Entsprechungen und Ersetzungsprinzipien,” in: C. Peust (ed.), Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf. GM Beihefte 3, 124–152. Westendorf, W., 1977a, “Schiessen und Zeugen. Eine Gemeinsamkeit afrikanischer und ägyptischer Vorstellungen,” in: E. Endesfelder et al. (eds.), Ägypten und Kusch. SGKAO 13, 481–486. Westendorf, W., 1977b, “Noch Einmal: die »Wiedergeburt« des heimgekehrten Sinuhe,” BIFAO 5, 293–304. Willems, H., 1996, The Coffin of Heqata (Cairo JdE 36418): A Case Study of Egyptian Funerary Culture of the Early Middle Kingdom. OLA 70. Wilson, P., 1997, A Ptolemaic Lexikon: a Lexicographical Study of the Texts in the Temple of Edfu. OLA 78. Winter, E., 1987, “Weitere Beobachtungen zur ‘Grammaire du Temple’ in der griechisch-römischen Zeit,” in: W. Helck (ed.), Tempel und Kult. ÄgAbh 46, 61–76. Winter, E., 2006, “‘Herr der Maat’ als Selbstaussage eines Privatmannes? Hybris oder legitimer Anspruch?,” in: K. Zibelius-Chen, H.-W. Fischer-Elfert (eds.), “Von reichlich ägyptischem Verstande”: Festschrift für Waltraud Guglielmi zum 65. Geburtstag. Philippika 11, 165–169. Wisse, F., 1979, “Language Mysticism in the Nag Hammadi Texts and in Early Coptic Monasticism, I, Cryptography,” Enchoria 9, 101–120. Wolf, W., 1929, “Der Berliner Ptah-Hymnus (P 3048, II–XII.),” ZÄS 64, 17–44. Yoyotte, J., 1955, “Jeux d’écriture sur une statuette de la XIXe dynastie,” RdE 10, 81–89.

David Klotz

The Enigmatic Frieze of Ramesses II at Luxor Temple Vaga quidem ac luxurianti litera – qualis est scriptorum seu verius pictorum nostri temporis, longe oculos mulcens, prope autem afficiens ac fatigans, quasi ad aliud quam ad legendum sit inventa. Rambling and luxuriant letters, those of the scribes, or more accurately, the painters of our time: pleasing to the eye from a distance, but injurious and tiresome up close, almost as if they had been devised for something other than for reading. Petrarch, Epistoles Familiares XXIII, 19.8 (to Boccaccio)1

Large-scale, highly detailed, enigmatic inscriptions – occasionally referred to, following Drioton, as “Monumental Cryptography” – were largely a phenomenon of the Ramesside Period, a time when massive bandeau and frieze texts were frequently adorned with additional details.2 In a classic study, Drioton established a corpus of similar texts, spanning the New Kingdom to the Ptolemaic Period, and outlined some common features.3 They are distinguished by a preponderance of anthropomorphic figures, typically striding, combined with divine emblems and sacred animals, appearing more like a very wide offering scene than a normal text. Cryptography is hardly an appropriate description for these types of inscriptions,4 however, as they usually appear in very prominent temple positions, such as exterior walls or hypostyle festival courts. In some examples (Sety I at Gurna, Ramesses II at Luxor), these inscriptions are juxtaposed directly with nearly identical texts written in conventional, Klartext, writings. Moreover, the basic mechanisms are quite different from those employed in New Kingdom netherworld books.5 The former feature many phonetic spellings, and various animal signs (e.g., owls and vultures, vipers and cobras) are reduced to generic animal classifiers (birds and serpents). The more monumental enigmatic writing, meanwhile, features more ideograms, and animals and divine figures are endowed with incredible details. In order to read the enigmatic Netherworld books, one must be intimately familiar with

1 Cited by Davies 1996, 48. 2 Van Essche 1997b. 3 Drioton 1940; see also Drioton 1936a, 1936b, 1939; fragments of a similar inscription from the Ramesseum: Lurson 2009. More recent discussions by Étienne-Fart 1994; Darnell 2004, 18–21; Taterka 2015. 4 For a more detailed critique of various terms for this style of writing, see Pries 2016, 468–469, n. 117. 5 Werning, this volume. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-003

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Solar-Osirian theology and conventional formulas of those texts. Understanding the colossal frieze inscriptions, however, presupposes an advanced knowledge of divine iconography and royal epithets, precisely what one must know to appreciate most temple reliefs and decorations. Various motivations for this style have been proposed: Drioton originally deemed these texts “ornamental” (1936a), later characterizing them as word games, employing dissimulation to avoid frequently repeated banal signs, sometimes tricking unsuspecting readers into faulty interpretations;6 a similar view can be found more recently in Ludwig Morenz (2008), who grouped this as part of a larger scribal culture of “visual poetry.” Indeed, the ludic monumental spellings seem inspired, at least in part, to more effectively make use of the relief-size spaces afforded by friezes and bandeaus. Standard hieroglyphs, particularly the most common uniliteral signs, are simple and compact enough to fit into quadrants, but look somewhat ridiculous blown up to giant proportions on the walls of Medinet Habu. Consider the unliteral t ( ): in the Luxor inscription, it is omitted from most feminine nominal or adjectival endings, and only appears in more elaborate forms: , , , . Note also that one might consider the standard unliteral signs as “agnostic”: none of the birds ( , , ) were worshipped as sacred animals. At Luxor, the first two signs are largely omitted thanks to the consonantal principle, while the owl is replaced by vulture icons of Mut or Nekhbet ( ), as well as representations of Isis and Nut ( , ). The royal titularies of various New Kingdom pharaohs, but especially of Ramesses II (Luxor, Abu Simbel, Abydos, Ramesseum), and of Ramesses IV and VI in their royal tombs, are composed entirely using a mixture of divinities and representations of themselves. As Andreas Pries recently remarked (2016, 469): Meines Erachtens geht es dabei auch nicht um bloße Assoziationsspiele oder primär darum, im Sinne eines Dekors oder Ornaments die Aufmerksamkeit potentieller Leser zu erregen, im Zuge des generellen Bestrebens nach einer perfekten, den ganzen Kosmos um- und einfassenden Schrift ganz konkret auch darum, die Konsubstantialität zwischen den Göttern und Pharao zu evozieren, oder zumindest darum, die in ihren Bildern einwohnende Macht der Götter im Namen Pharaos wirksam werden zu lassen.

While a semi-literate ancient Egyptian might not have been able to read all the hieroglyphs in these kings’ standard cartouches, anyone with a basic knowledge of divine iconography would recognize the various figures comingling with the king. Even if the phonetic elements were not properly conveyed, the basic messages of such programatic throne names (namely, the pharaohs’ close relationship with a specific set of patron divinities and symbols of power) would not be lost. Pries had discussed these monumental inscriptions in the context of hieroglyphs that blur the lines between denotational script, artistic reliefs or paintings,

6 See especially Drioton 1940, 397: “Le jeu de la cryptographie exige que les signes unilittères ainsi obtenus soient aussi variés que possibles, afin de créer sans cesse de nouvelles énigmes.”

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and sacred objects. By elaborating banal signs into fully anthropmorphic figures, sacred animals, or divine symbols, Ramesside scribes were truly restoring the hiero(nṯr), or sacred aspect to hieroglyphics (mdw-nṯr). I would further agree with Pries that these particular inscriptions bear comparison to Medieval and Renaissance attempts to develop a perfect language, especially the so-called “ecstatic Kaballah” of Abulafia, wherein each individual letter of the Hebrew alphabet was considered a divine name, so combining letters into words formed myriad syncretistic forms.7 While these monumental inscriptions certainly appear different from standard texts, the basic principles are logical extensions of the hieroglyphic script, mixed with a few conventions of Egyptian art and religious iconography.8 To be very brief, these include the following.

Meronymic Substitutions This includes the ability to replace people or animals by disembodied parts (pars pro toto), and the opposite procedure of fleshing out a smaller sign into a full body (plus pro parte),9 resulting in the equivalencies in standard texts such as the following:10

Even non-animate hieroglyphs can grow legs or arms to gain new values, such as → , → .11 Put together, this allows for the equivalence of the following signs to write the verb di, “to give”: →

(bread carried by arm) →

(arm extended into entire body)12

7 Eco 2014, 301–306. 8 Outlined already by Drioton 1940, 396–401; Van Essche 1997b, 214–217. Many of the practices discussed here developed further in the Ptolemaic Period (for which see Fairman 1945; Kurth 2007– 2008), where similar ideograms, anthropomorphic carrying signs, and other composites multiplied – unlike the enigmatic system of writing used in the Netherworld books. 9 See Werning, this volume, 208. 10 Related to this phenomenon is the practice of mutilated or incomplete hieroglyphs, for which see Miniaci 2010. 11 Cf. Pries 2016, 461–467. 12 For early examples of the final sign, see Fischer 1987, 36–37.

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Interaction with Hieroglyphs Related to the previous principle, full-figured can interact with other hieroglyphic signs in more complex ways, as in the following well-known examples:13

In these and other conventional writings, human figures can carry hieroglyphs that are to be read, just as in the later monumental examples. An early sportive example occurs already in the tomb of Hesyre (Dynasty 3), where the deceased is depicted carrying the two hieroglyphs composing his name,14 prefiguring similar composite signs in the Luxor Inscription (cf. infra, Luxor Inscription, 17–18, 40–41, 106–8) and elsewhere.15

Divine Iconography Several artistic conventions and theological assumptions specific to ancient Egypt enable other novel forms in the monumental inscriptions. These include: 1. Sacred animals could be represented anthropomorphically, preserving the appropriate heads: ~ , ~ . 2. Divinities could carry the hieroglyph of their name atop their heads: (Shu), (Nut), (Isis), (Nephthys), (Neith), (Maat). 3. Gods, goddesses, and even royal figures bear specific crowns and other iconography that make them easily identifiable.16 This is not an issue for common deities like Amun, Hathor, Osiris, or Atum, but less common crowns or obscure gods can pose challenges. Twice at Luxor, as well as in other temples, the solar deity Shepsi from Hermopolis appears with his customary headdress to write the homonymous adjective “august” (cf. infra, Luxor Inscription, 37, 76), a value that had previously never been adequately explained. Similarly, a god at Abydos wearing a composite, atef-like crown somehow writes the word “earth”; 13 Morenz 1998, 246–248. 14 Taterka 2015, 72, n. 2. 15 Most notably on the monuments of Minmose: U. Effland and A. Effland 2004. 16 Compare a much-discussed passage of the Canopus Decree, describing in elaborate detail the crown to be worn by sacred statues of the deified princess Berenike. The decree expects this distinctive headgear will differentiate her cult statue from that of the queen among the populace during festival processions, and more learned observers are supposed to “read” her name and specific epithets in its composite elements; cf. Ritner 2006, 214–215.

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multiple solutions have been put forward, but the simplest explanation involves recognizing the very specific crown of Geb, god of the earth.17

Direct Representation vs. Antonomasia By the New Kingdom, it was standard practice to write divine names using ideograms;18 this process was exploited often in rebuses of royal names during the Eighteenth Dynasty.19 Less common was the use of divine figures to evoke their particular epithets, and that is certainly one of the most difficult aspects of the monumental texts. Readers must also be familiar with the qualities most often associated with each divinity in hymns and other inscriptions. As mentioned above, Drioton had articulated many of these fundamental notions in his pioneering work of 1940, and many of his interpretations – when based on direct parallels – still convince almost a century later. Yet just as in his other works on “cryptography,” the occasional attempts to explain readings via acrophony or convoluted word associations, invite a fresh analysis.20 The bulk of this contribution will focus on the Luxor inscription of Ramesses II, since it was composed in the New Kingdom, and was only partially visible until very recently. The closely related building inscriptions of Darius I from Hibis Temple (Dynasty 27) would require far too much commentary, and fall outside the chronological scope of this volume; only the passages that parallel the Luxor text will be discussed here. Before that, a few remarks are in order concerning other famous examples of the genre.

Thutmosis I and Merneptah = Drioton 1940, 377–387, Texts 6–7 Drioton included two objects he dubbed “ostraca” and interpreted as cryptographic spellings for the titularies of Thutmosis I and Merneptah respectively. Yet it is important to note that unlike most proper ostraca, both pieces are made of limestone and the texts are incised. Moreover, even though Drioton dated them both to the New Kingdom, a photograph of the second piece (JE 40037, discovered in the Karnak

17 Klotz 2014a, 50–51 (with references to earlier discussions). 18 Van Essche 1997b, 216. 19 Pries 2016, 468–469; Diego Espinel, this volume. 20 One should be especially cautious using the sign-list at the end of his essay (Drioton 1940, 409– 427), as it includes many untenable values, including some based on objects that do not even appear to be real texts.

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Cachette) shows it more likely belongs to the Ptolemaic Period.21 Indeed, while a certain combination of signs would appear to suggest the name of Thutmosis I on the first object, the signs appear (according to Drioton’s reading) completely backwards, and the element ʿȝ, “great,” is written with a donkey – hardly a flattering interpretation of the royal name.22 For Merneptah, meanwhile, Drioton argued the nomen would be written with a single sign: a seated, leontocephalic goddess with the hieroglyph of Hathor on her head.23 It is certainly true that Sakhmet is regularly called mry.t n Ptḥ, “beloved of Ptah,” but the notion that the king would be represented by the image of a feminine goddess is difficult to accept. For the other signs on both objects, only a most tortuous sequence of interpetations enables any coherent translation. As Drioton initially noted, both were more likely trial pieces or “aides-memoires.” 24

Cryptogram of Nefertari These two fragments found at Deir el-Medina were first described by Drioton, and have been discussed several times since.25 Although all of have recognized the first sequence as titles and name of Queen Nefertari, certain details have not yet been explained in a convincing manner.

The first two signs are hardly controversial: the seated queen (who shares the same double crown as Mut further on), writes ḥm.t, “wife,” and she holds the sw-plant, an abbreviation for nsw.t, “king.” The seated hippopotamus is Taweret, with her usual value of wr.t (cf. infra, Luxor Inscription, 58). Since the two emblematic plants for Upper and Lower Egypt are depicted here, previous scholars have tried to accomodate some variant of the attested epithets for the queen: “Great Royal Wife, Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt, Lady of the Two

21 22 23 24 25

http://www.ifao.egnet.net/bases/cachette/ck1037 ; see also Diego Espinel, this volume. Drioton 1940, 381 (13). Drioton 1940, 385–386 (5). Drioton 1940, 378. Drioton 1939; Étienne-Fart 1994, 139–142; Taterka 2015, 78–80; KRI II, 850.

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Lands.” 26 But this requires reading the cow uniquely as ḥnw.t (Étienne-Fart), or giving the queen the singular epithet “Mistress of the Two Lands” (Taterka). Furthermore, these interpretations reduce the clearly recognizable depiction of Nefertari as a generic queen, standing for “lady” or “mistress.” Following Drioton, most scholars have read the subsequent signs as a complex rebus: “he pours out tears for Mut (ỉw=f (ḥr) ỉr(.t) dỉ.t rmy.t n Mw.t)” (Drioton, Taterka), or “a pretty girl who is sad for Mut (nfr.t ỉr.t mr.t n Mw.t)” (Étienne-Fart). These would be distinctly nonetymological spellings of the queenly nomen: “Nefertari, beloved of Mut (Nfr.t-ỉry mr.t n.t Mw.t).” Instead, one may read the cow and plant signs as nb.t-tȝ.wy, “Lady of the Two Lands,” the most common epithet of Nefertari,27 exactly as this group functions in a cryptographic inscription from Hibis.28 The following ỉdb-signs need not stand for separate words (ỉdb.wy, “banks”; so Drioton), since they are normal determinatives to tȝ.wy. The depiction of Nefertari, then, simply writes her name via direct representation. As with many of the divine figures in such inscriptions, her distinctive iconography (composite crown and flail) uniquely identify her, and thus she can stand as an ideogram. The seated youth writes mry(.t), “beloved,” 29 with the elaborate bread as phonetic complement; finally the red crown stands for n.t, and Mut, just like Nefertari, is depicted by an iconic seated statue. The whole group thus writes: ḥm.t nsw.t wr.t Nb.t tȝ.wy Nfr.t-ỉry mr.t n.t Mw.t ʿnḫ.tỉ

The great royal wife, Lady of the Two Lands, Nefertari, beloved of Mut, may she live.

Pinudjem I, Medinet Habu (= Drioton 1940, 328–338, Text 4) Drioton’s interpretation30 is generally reasonable, so the following notes are restricted to his few acrophonic explanations.

26 Similar epithets are attested for Nefertari (e.g., KRI II, 848, 5; 851, 2; 852, 5, 12), but usually in the sequence “Lady of the Two Lands, Mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt.” 27 E.g., KRI II, 848, 5, 12; 849, 8, 16; 850, 10, 15, 17. 28 Drioton 1940, 370 (182–183). 29 There is no indication the youth is crying; rather, he holds his hand to his mouth just as in the usual determinative to the verb mrỉ, “to love,” and derived words. It is possible this might relate to a rare term mrỉ, “young man; boyfriend; fiancé” (Ryholt 2009, 288–289; Klotz 2012c, 68–69). His position here, seated before the goddess Mut, recalls the gender specific veneration of Mut and Sakhmet by young men: Darnell 2010a, 108, n. 27. 30 For this text, see also JWIS I, 18; Dembitz 2011, 33–35.

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(Drioton 1940, 331, 5–8) If Drioton was correct in interpreting this group as the epithet zbỉ-nḥḥ, then the seated Seth animal need not derive acrophonically from Ba‘al (Bʿr), Seth’s counterpart in Syro-Palestine. Instead, one may compare the alternate, unliteral appelation of Seth, “Be” (B).31 Similarly, the tadpole would seem to write the first ḥ in nḥḥ. The acrophonic proposal ḥ < ḥfnw might seem to be the most direct solution.32 But this animal could also be considered a representation of the god Heh, one of the four batrachian gods of the Ogdoad,33 thus writing ḥ < ḥḥ. Alternatively, the entire second part of this group might alternatively write the epithet: ỉnỉ pḥ.wy [ḏ.t], “who attains the ends of eternity,” in which case the tadpole would substitute for the usual hindquarters of a lion ( ), through similarity of shape.

(Drioton 1940, 332–333, 15–17) Drioton understood these goddesses as an acrophonic cryptogram for ʿnḫ(y), “the living one,” a solar epithet. However, this relies on his faulty interpretation of the first goddess’s crown: rather than Anat (which he reduced to initial ‘ayin), the first goddess wears the typical, feathered white crown of Nekhbet,34 and thus the serpent beside her is most likely Wadjet, not merely an anonymous goddess: hence the two ladies of Upper and Lower Egypt. Taken together, this group more likely writes: tȝ.wy nb, “all the lands.”

(Drioton 1940, 337, 40) Drioton here recognized the epithet msỉ-sw ḏs=f, requiring an acrophonic derivation of the first figure m < “Mikal,” a West Semitic god attested on a Ramesside private

31 Wb. I, 410, 9; LGG II, 658; Meeks 2006, 59, n. 74. Compare, the common abbreviation ỉ for Thoth. 32 An adult frog obtains the acrophonic value ḥ from the goddess “Heqet,” much later at Esna (Arpagaus 2010, 20, n. 8). 33 Note that the Pinudjem inscription is from the Small Temple of Medinet Habu, later identified as the resting place of the Ogdoad. 34 Nekhbet wears a similar crown in an enigmatic text from Abydos: Drioton 1936a, 12–13, n. e.

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stela from Beth Shean.35 Yet while that divinity wears a similar crown, his pointy Levantine beard is distinctly different from the present figure. A far simpler alternative is to identify the present god as Seth-Ba‘al, wearing the preicse iconography he displays on other monuments, perhaps most famously the Year 400 Stela of Ramesses II (a parallel already noted by Drioton).36 As discussed above for the same inscription, this figure of Seth could then simply represent the uniliteral value b, resulting in a standard solar epithet bsỉ-sw ḏs=f, “who made himself come forth” (LGG II, 828).

Monumental Tomb Chapel of Padikakem (= Drioton 1940, Text VIII) Although definitely not from the New Kingdom, special attention might be paid to the monumental tomb chapel of Padikakem at Tuna el-Gebel (Hermopolis), since Drioton also included this text – and his proposed acrophonic readings – in his original study.37 Assuming from the beginning that the text could be a hymn to the local god Thoth, Drioton proposed multiple acrophonic readings to produce a peculiar translation: “C’est lui Celui (ntf pw pȝ) de qui les desseins sont parfaits”. However, such an abrupt incipit to a hymn, involving Late Egyptianisms, would be unusual for a temple or tomb.

A simpler explanation involves interpreting this elaborate frieze as sportive, emblematic spellings of the erudite scribe Padikakem. This reading is suggested by the repeated pȝ-birds and cryptographic, six-fold spelling of scribe (attested multiple times in the New Kingdom), both of which occur otherwise in Padikakem’s usual

35 For this god, see recently David and Bumann 2015–2016, 114–115, who characterized Drioton’s identification of this god at Medinet Habu as “dubious” (114, n. 8). 36 Yoyotte 1950, 56, Pl. VII; Bietak 1990, 10–12. 37 Drioton, in: Gabra 1941, 29–37; Drioton 1940, 391–394.

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resumé. In addition to similar royal and private examples from the New Kingdom (e.g., Minmose from Abydos, Djehutymose from Semna; cf. Diego Espinel, this volume), one might compare a Late Period stela from Heliopolis,38 or the monogram of a lion and bull to write the personal name Neb-pehty on a private statue of the Delta.39 As Peter Dils recently noted, the multiple bulls in this text adroitly play on Padikakem’s own name (lit. “He whom the black bull gave/engendered”).40 This particular relief also showcases the aesthetic possibilities of combining highly-stylized hieroglyphs with temple decoration. Drioton assumed all of the papyrus thickets represented individual words, but these more likely complement the idyllic, agricultural imagery evoked by the other signs (bulls, birds, trees).41 This juxtaposition links the bestial mating of the first sign with the coded allusion to human coupling (holding hands within the marshes) in the next. Bandeau inscriptions on temple walls and column bases throughout Egypt similarly interweave divine figures, plants, and large hieroglyphs,42 as in the following example from Esna II, 94:

Padikakem’s titles vary throughout his tomb, but his most common charges are the following:43

This comparison suggests the following equivalences:

38 Jansen-Winkeln 1997. 39 Klotz 2014–2015, 93–94, n. n. 40 Dils 2014, 914, who nonetheless noted: “Eine überzeugende Deutung der ornamentalen Bildinschrift steht noch aus.” 41 The marsh signs are remarkably decorative at Dendera: Budde 2011, 204; Cauville 2013, 105– 107; Dils 2014, 931–944, 960–961, 963. 42 Many examples in Dils 2014, 914–915, 960–963. Note especially the other examples of such imagery elsewhere in Padikakem’s tomb: Gabra 1941, 19–20, 24, Figs. 4, 5, 10. 43 Gabra 1941, 11; for his other titles, see also Gabra 1941, 16, lines 2–3.

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1. 2. 3. 4.

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sḫ(ȝw)44 n, “scribe of” 45 < zḫn, “to unite; embrace.” 46 pȝ < pȝỉ, “to fly” (first bird). tȝš < tšỉ, “to run away; flee” (second bird).47 ḫmnw < ẖnm, “to unite; embrace” (Wb. III, 377–378);48 or possibly from snsn, “to embrace” (a normal value for this sign), mistakenly derived from the com(Wb. III, 283). A more intimate embrace seems mon spelling of ḫmnw, e.g., to have the same value ẖnm in an infamous, ludic series of epithets from the Middle Kingdom at Beni Hassan (LD II, 143b; Collombert and Volokhine 2005, 49–50):

Although numerous interpretations have been suggested, one might understand: “beloved (mry) of his associates (ẖnm.w=f ),49 praised (ḥzy) (by those of his district).” 5. sḫȝ, “scribe” < sỉ(s) ḫȝ, “six ḫȝ-gestures.” 50 6. nsw < substitution of the tree for the sedge plant.51 7. ḥsb < ḥsb, “sacrificial (bull),” as in the divine standard for the Pharbaithite nome (LE 11: ).52 44 Although often transcribed as sš, the word for scribe is vocalized later as s-ḫȝ (cf. Coptic ⲥ ⲁⲓ), and elsewhere in the Ptolemaic Period as if it were related to sḫȝ, “to recall” (Klotz and Brown 2016, 284, n. j). 45 In the hieroglyphic versions of Padikakem’s name, the first title is usually sḫȝ pȝ tȝš, while the latter is sḫȝ-nsw ḥsb ỉḫt nb n pȝ tȝš. In the present case, the indirect genitive imposes itself, and Demotic and Coptic conventions show it would have been pronounced. Compare also a private statue of the Saite Period (MMA 19.2.2 = JWIS IV, 340, # 112), where the title sš, “scribe (of)” is written ideographically with the palette hieroglyph and no genitive on one side, and alphabetically as znšn on the other. 46 Wb. III, 468–469. 47 Wb. V, 328–329. 48 The verb ẖnm often refers to human relationships, as in the term ẖnm.w, “associates” (Wb. III, 381, 5–7). For the phonetic interchange between ḫmn ~ ẖnm, compare spellings of “the Ogdoad” as ẖnm.w-ỉw.w, “the Khnums have arrived” with the Khnum sign (Esna III, 272, 1, 2, 5; cf. Klotz 2006, 73, n. 33). 49 For a similar parallel, cf. Urk. VII, 54, 12. 50 As Drioton already noted, this is a variant of a spelling for sḫȝw, “scribe,” which appears on Louvre C 65 and elsewhere (Klotz and Brown 2016, 283, n. i); nonetheless, Drioton ultimately translated the present instance as sḫr.w, “condition.” The man with hand to his mouth writes this unilateral value several times in the Awakening Osiris text in the phrase “life and dominion (ʿnḫ wȝs)” (interpreted differently by Roberson 2013, 69, n. g). In some cases, as Drioton had originally suggested, it might derive from ḫỉ, “child,” a variant of the youth with a hand at his mouth. Alternatively, it might come from the standard determinative to the interjection ḫỉ (Wb. III, 236, 10–16). 51 Cf. Darnell 2004, 62, n. 120. 52 Montet, 1957–1961, I, 129–130; Meeks 2004, 296–297.

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8. ḫt = substitution for the stick sign, a normal value for the tree during the GraecoRoman period.53 9. nb < nb.t, “cow” (cf. Cryptic Lexicon, E1)

Crossword Hymn to Mut (British Museum, EA 194) This acrostic hymn (British Museum, EA 194),54 dating to the reign of Ramesses VI, bears the intriguing remark at its top row: “Now as for this writing, it is to be read three times (ỉs ỉr sš pn st r šd(.t) r zp 3).” Obviously the text can be read both horizontally and vertically, but the third method intended is less clear. H. M. Stewart, the original editor, argued this most likely meant reading only the outer frame of the grid. However, Stewart barely mentioned the large procession of divinities on the stela’s lintel:

From: Stewart 1971, Pl. XXV.

Given the popularity of monumental, ludic inscriptions during the Ramesside Period, it is tempting to apply similar principles to this procession, perhaps resulting in a “third” way to read this monument. While the lunette is too damaged to verify this theory, one might compare similar decoration on Late Period monuments, including an inscription of Somtutefnakht from Herakleopolis (Urk. II, 12–13):

and the stela of Ramose (Jansen-Winkeln 1997):

53 Wb. III, 345; Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 301; see also Cryptic Lexicon, M1.1. 54 Stewart 1971; Parkinson 1999, 84–85.

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In both private monuments, rebus figures raise their arms in adoration of the main god, even though this pious gesture adds nothing to their reading. On the first, the Ogdoad simply represent the phonetic element nny (a variant of their usual name), on the latter; the praising baboon combines with the white crown to write Ramose’s title “royal scribe (sš-nsw.t),” even though simians in this posture more regularly stand for the word nfr.55 Accordingly, the row of praising divinities on the top of the Crossword stela might similarly depict a series of epithets of the goddess Mut.

Graeco-Roman Temples The general principles of iconic writing developed considerably in the Graeco-Roman period, when scribes regularly employed complex ideograms and composite signs.56 Instances of such signs can be found in numerous locations, yet several particular texts hearken directly back to the New Kingdom. At Philae, two hymns to Isis (Ptolemy II) include many divine figures, including the same sequence of “the Horus, Mighty Bull” used several times in the Ramesside Period.57 The same is true of the bandeau inscriptions from the treasury of Edfu, which begins with a similar sequence,58 as well as several comparable texts from the same area near the sanctuary.59 Two dedicatory texts from Philae (reign of Augustus) remarkably contain explanatory glosses over certain signs, assisting readers with potentially obscure or ambiguous sign derivations.60 For example, one youth simply writes pȝ-ẖrd, “the

55 Klotz and Brown 2016, 274, with n. 33. 56 Interestingly, many such texts feature more sacred animals than anthropomorphic figures; see notably Leitz 2001 (Esna), and Cauville 2002 (Dendera). 57 Klotz 2014–2015; see infra, 1–3. 58 Edfou II, 275; Edfou XII, Pl. CCCCXVII–CCCCXX; Gutbub 1952. 59 Edfou I, 176 (Sokar chapel), 410–412 (Wabet). 60 Philä II, 400–401.

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child,” while another represents tpy, “first-born,” perhaps based on a phonetic pun (< dp, “to taste”) since the child holds his hand to his mouth, similar to the standard determinative of the latter word. Similar glosses accompany texts around columns at Dendera and Esna. While some are rather simple to interpret, others are very challenging and merit further study.61 For the moment, one may single out a relief from the Gate of Tiberius at Medamud. Drioton, who published all the other texts from that temple, identified this particular text as an enigmatic, acrophonic spelling of the divine name: “Montu, lord of Medamud.” 62 Yet the explanatory glosses, ignored by Drioton and Morenz as secondary interpretations, point towards a more straightforward reading. Just as at Philae, these reading guides show that the Hapi figures (susceptible of multiple interpretations) represent a very specific epithet (ỉmy-qr.ty, “He who is within the Nile grottoes”), resulting in the following banal translation:

ḥtp-dỉ-nsw ỉnỉ Ḥʿpỉ m qr.ty r sbḫ.t n.t Mnṯw

An offering of the king,63 who brings64 Hapi all the way from the Nile grottos, to the gateway ( )65 of Montu.

61 Note especially Dendara VII, 10, Pls. DXCIX–DC; Dendara IX, 101–102, 105–106, 109, 113, 117; Esna IV, 461–472. 62 Drioton 1936b; followed largely by Morenz 2008, 119–123. 63 This reconstruction is based on the shape of the damaged object the second figure carries, and similar uses of such an ideogram going back to the New Kingdom (Clère 1955). If Drioton’s reconstruction of the two crowns is correct, one might alternatively suggest reading “King of Upper Egypt” on one side, and “King of Lower Egypt” on the other, with the second figures presumably carrying the respective heraldic plants. 64 Although this value is incredibly common for this sign (infra, 57), even in non-enigmatic texts, Drioton was so committed to the acrophonic solution that he did not even entertain it as a possibility (1936b, 27–28, n. c). 65 This is presumably the partially-damaged object carried by both of the final male figures, a logical designation of the gate of Tiberius.

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Luxor Temple: for a new translation From the corpus Drioton established, perhaps the most famous example is the enigmatic frieze text of Ramesses II from the east architrave of his courtyard in front of Luxor Temple.66 Since over half of the inscription lay concealed behind the mosque of Abu el-Haggag until the Twenty-First century, Drioton only discussed the portions that were visible in his time, consisting of the titulary of Ramesses II and epithets of Theban divinities. Mahmud Abd El-Razik and Kenneth Kitchen recorded some additional sections and provided further comments,67 while more recently John Darnell explained one section in greater detail as part of his study on New Kingdom cryptography.68 When an electrical fire damaged the historic mosque in 2007, the SCA in conjunction with ARCE took the opportunity to document all newly revealed Ramesside scenes and inscriptions before restoring the walls,69 and Mansour Boraik published the rest of the enigmatic building text, with translation and minimal commentary.70 Based on the parallel, identical version of the text composed in traditional hieroglyphs on the west frieze (KRI II, 612), Boraik’s translation is exemplary and requires few corrections. Yet some of the newly-attested cryptographic values invite further discussion, while others find exact parallels from Hibis temple.71 Moreover, collation with detailed photographs has uncovered several corrections to the copies published by Lepsius/Drioton and Kitchen.72 In short, this seems an opportune moment to translate the inscription in its entirety, providing the extended commentary it merits.

Sources Despite the recovery of the Abu el-Haggag portions, missing blocks in the architrave have left gaps in the enigmatic inscription. The entire text, not to mention the rest of the inscriptions in the Ramesside court at Luxor, merits a singular epigraphic publication like those already published for other sections of the temple. For the sake of convenience, the present study will use a patchwork of already available editions, with some corrections and epigraphic notes made possible through photographs.

66 LD III, 149b; PM II2, 311; Drioton 1940, 319–328; KRI II, 612–613. 67 Abd El-Razik 1974, § 9; 1975, 132–133; KRI II, 612–613; Kitchen 1996, 405, § 232B; 1998, 411–412, § 775–777. 68 Darnell 2004, 8–21, Pl. 1A; see also the brief discussion by Morenz 2008, 220–222. 69 https://www.arce.org/project/luxor-temple-abul-hajjaj-mosque-documentation 70 Boraik 2008; for additional photographs, see also Taher 2007–2008. 71 Noted by Boraik 2008, 135, n. 12; some of these parallels were discussed already by Klotz, 2012a; 2013. 72 Photographs kindly provided by Christophe Thiers and Ralph Birk.

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1–36 The first section reproduces the line drawings used by Drioton 1940, which in turn were copied from Lepsius (LD III, 149b). Comparison with photographs, kindly provided by Ralph Birk, have revealed several significant details requiring emendation, and those will be noted below. 37–92 The second section is the Abu el-Haggag inscription, as recently published by Boraik (2008, 133–135). That copy is generally excellent, although note the copy of a partially damaged crown requires correction (infra, 52). 93–113 The final section was previously published only in the handcopies of Abd El-Razik and Kitchen (KRI II, 613, 1–2). Since the correct identification of these signs require careful attention to divine crowns and other iconography, much of which has been hacked out, I deemed it necessary to provide my own facsimile copy, based in part on study photographs that Christophe Thiers amiably sent. Although not ideal, particularly regarding aspect ratio (I had no access to scaffolding or sophisticated photographic equipment in this area of the temple), it is hoped these provisional drawings marginally improve upon the small signs in KRI II. The symmetric frieze on the east architrave at Luxor is an almost identical text written in Klarschrift, although much is missing (L1 = KRI II, 612, 3–8); this text will be reproduced below the corresponding enigmatic signs. In addition, similar details concerning construction are related in inscriptions from the pylon (L2 = KRI II, 605), the south interior wall of the Ramesside court (L3 = KRI II, 607, the Pylon) and inside the chapel for Amun in the triple bark-shrine (L4 = KRI II, 614). Finally, as Boraik has already noted, one section was repeated almost verbatim in two monumental building texts from Hibis Temple (reign of Darius I),73 and those will also be reproduced below (H1 = Hibis III, Pl. 29; H2 = ibid, Pl. 51).

L1 Destroyed ʿnḫ Ḥr kȝ-nḫt mry-Mȝʿ.t nb.ty mkỉ-Km.t wʿf-ḫȝs.wt

73 Boraik 2008, 135, n. 12.

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Live the Horus: Mighty Bull, Beloved of Maat, Two Ladies: Protector of Egypt, who Curbs the Foreign Lands. 1–3 These first signs occur in cryptographic titularies from the New Kingdom through the Ptolemaic Period.74 Min writes “Ka” from his frequent name “Kamutef,” 75 while Montu represents the epithet “Mighty (nḫt),” just as below (cf. 15).76 4–6 In all three hieroglyphs, standing goddesses replace the usual hieroglyphs, . Notably, the fully anthropomorphic Nekhbet and Wadjet substitute for e.g., their emblematic animal forms, whereas elsewhere the same goddesses simply serve as carriers for the two crowns, writing nsw-bỉtỉ via metonomy.77 Furthermore, the two ladies stand upon the more ornate gold signs (5–6), rather than simple baskets. This graphic layout balances three gods (1–3) with three goddesses (4–6), as in the ), thereby evoking the totality of the Egyptian panphrase nṯr.w-nṯry.t ( theon. 7 As Drioton correctly recognized, this figure is an elaboration of the composite , both of which frequently write mkỉ, “to protect” and related words.78 sign: Drioton (1940, 321, 6) suggested this group derives from a rebus, literally depicting “one who offers (mȝʿ) a Ka sign (kȝ).” Since this approach requires partial acrophony (m < mȝʿ), I have elsewhere suggested it actually reflects the imperative: “give the Ka sign!” (ỉmy kȝ).79 A simpler alternative, more in keeping with the monumental principles outlined above, is to see this figure as an extension of the simple ), which occurs regularly in this function already in classic offering arm ( , Middle Egyptian.80 That the arm and full-bodied figure extending an arm were interchangeable is clear from variant spellings of Minmose’s personal cryptogram.81 8 As befits a toponym, usually feminine in the Egyptian language, the divinized nation “Kemet” appears here as a goddess, akin to the more common “Victorious Thebes,” including the similar headband.82

74 Drioton 1940, 315–316 (Abu Simbel), 331 (Medinet Habu); 1935, 4b (Abydos); Gutbub 1952, 35 and 39 (Edfu); Klotz 2014–2015, 9, n. 36 (Philae). 75 Darnell 2004, 27, n. b, Pl. 1d. In a similar text from Edfu, this word is written instead with a bull-headed god: Gutbub, 1952, 35, 39. 76 Note the similar use of a seated Montu to write nḫt on a private stela from the Wadi Hammamat (Montet 1950, 26–27, fig 4, col. 6). 77 Drioton 1940, 375 (205–206). 78 Wb. II, 160–162. 79 Klotz and Brown 2016, 274. 80 Klotz and Brown 2016, 274, nn. 32, 35. 81 Effland and Effland 2004, 11–12, 14; Klotz and Brown 2016, 273–274. 82 Licitra 2013, 438, n. 8; 444–445.

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9 This remarkable group depicts Ramesses II vividly bending (wʿf ) an opponent,83 bound to the three traditional enemy lands: Nubia, Libya, and Syria-Palestine.84 These detailed figures serve as determinatives that further define the banal term “foreign lands (ḫȝs.wt),” illustrating the potential for monumental hieroglyphs to operate on multiple semantic levels.

L1 Destroyed Ḥr-nbw wsr-rnp.wt ʿȝ-nḫt.w The Golden Horus: Mighty of Years, Great of Victories. 10 Cf. 1. 11 Hathor here has the value nbw, derived from her common epithet nbw.t, “the Golden,” a very frequent phenomenon in both New Kingdom and Graeco-Roman cryptography.85 The conjunction of Horus and Hathor simultaneously evokes the riverine festival linking Dendera and Edfu.86 12 Based on the well-known titulary of Ramesses II, the striding jackal-headed deity must represent the phonetic value wsr, as it does in his prenomen (Wsr-mȝʿ.t-Rʿ), at Abu Simbel. For that example, Drioton assumed this figure must be Anubis, endowing him with an otherwise unattested epithet, *wsỉry, “l’osirien.” 87 Instead, this apparent divinity can be understood as an elaboration (totum pro parte) of the wsr-

83 For variants of this image, see Desroches-Noblecourt, Kuentz 1968, 52–55, Fig. 14, 168, n. 189; van Essche 1997a, 211–212, with Fig. 6. 84 A similar example with diverse foreigners occurs in the treasury of Edfu, already compared to the present text by Gutbub 1952, 34, 36–37 (Edfou II, 275, 4–5; Edfou XII, Pl. CCCCXVII). For stereotypical representations of these three enemy regions, see recently Kockelmann and Rickert 2015, 10–14. For a similar set of determinatives under Ramesses II, see also KRI II, 414, 11 (noted by van Essche 1997a, 215). 85 Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 144. 86 For early evidence of a local cult of Hathor in Edfu, specifically in Behedet, see Klotz 2010, 217, n. 50. 87 Drioton 1940, 317 (7).

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sign ( ), similar to the composite hieroglyph ( ) sometimes used in the titularies of Hyksos and Ramesside kings, as well as in magical vignettes.88 Alternatively, one might interpret this figure as a human priest wearing the famous Anubis mask,89 essentially a man carrying the wsr-sign on his head. 13 The figure of Seshat does not represent her name as it does later (cf. 58, partially restored). Rather the only significant component are the palm-risps she holds, es;90 nonetheless, the scribes here chose Seshat for her sentially an elaboration of: role assigning regnal years to the new king.91 14 Since the epithet ʿȝ, “great,” could apply to most divinities,92 it is not immediately clear what specific association this term would have with Amun here. 15 As above (cf. 3), the three Montus write nḫt.w, “victories.” This group, Amun followed by multiple forms of Montu, evokes the local theology of Thebes, where the main temples (Karnak, Luxor) were protected on all four sides by local manifestations of the warrior god (Medamud, North Karnak, Armant, Tod).93 NB: A sizeable lacuna disrupts the titulary here (nsw.t-bỉtỉ wsr-mȝʿ.t-Rʿ stp-n-Rʿ), but one can restore the missing portions by comparing the enigmatic text of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel.94

19

18

17

16

L1 Destroyed

88 Montet 1950, 26–27, Fig. 4, col. 6; Goyon 1977, 48, pl. XV, B; Fischer, 1977, 17–18, n. 156; 1996, 188; Darnell 2013b, 252, fig. 32. 89 Bricault 2001. 90 At Hibis, three goddesses without attributes carry rnp-signs, for the phrase: rnp.wt n(w) Šw Tfn.t, “the years of Shu and Tefnut” (Hibis III, Pl. 29, South Reveal, reading confirmed by an exact parallel in Hibis III, Pl. 26, left); cf. Drioton 1940, 374–375 [199–201], who incorrectly copied the final sign and consequently proposed a very different interpretation). 91 Budde 2000, 21, 240 (discussing this example). 92 A standing figure of Thoth writes ʿȝ at Edfu: Gutbub 1952, 35–36, 41; Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 44, 163, n. 566. 93 Klotz 2012c, 147–148 (with references). 94 Drioton 1940, 316–317; so also KRI II, 612, 12.

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Plate 1: Luxor Inscription, 16–18 (photo courtesy Ralph Birk).

zȝ-Rʿ Rʿ-ms-sw mry-Ỉmn Son of Re: Ramesses, Beloved of Amun. 16–17 The combination of Shu(-Onuris) and Re frequently writes “son of Re” both via direct representation (Shu being the son of Re-Atum),95 and possibly due to phonetic proximity between Šw and zȝ. In later texts, Shu can also write “son (zȝ),” even when Re is not mentioned.96 Based on his drawing (or rather, the original copy by Lepsius), Drioton assumed the first figure of Re (17) belongs to the phrase “son of Re,” while the second superimposed deity (18) forms part of “Ramesses.” However, collation with the original (see Plate 1 above) indicates this unusual sign is actually a palimpsest resulting from an engraver’s mistake or recarving. Accordingly, ShuOnuris alone (16) should write “son of Re,” just as in the titulary of Ramesses II from Abu-Simbel and other texts,97 and the single sun god (17) would begin the nomen. .98 Drioton argued that Chonsu 18 This sportive group frequently writes the phrase: acrophonically wrote m < msw, “child,” yet since this name never occurs this way ), a far simpler explanation is that Chonsu reprein normal hieroglyphs (i.e. * sents a biliteral value, substituting for the expected ms-sign.99 Note that while Chonsu’s headgear is unclear in the drawing, photographs (see Plate 1 above) con-

95 Drioton 1940, 349 (65–66), 375–376 (207–208); also in the tombs of Ramesses VI and VII (KRI VI, 328, 4; 386, 3); Kurth 2007–2008, I, 158, n. 408. 96 Cauville 2002, 127. 97 Drioton 1936a, 2, 8; 1940, 317; Piankoff, Rambova 1954, Pl. 70. 98 Drioton 1940, 318–319 (15); van Essche 1997b, 83. 99 So already van Essche 1997b, 83, with n. 11; for the child writing msw in the Ramesside Period, see also Sauneron and Yoyotte 1950, 11, n. 1.

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firm it is indead a lunar disk above a royal wig, just it as occurs in other examples.100 The nomen of Ramesses II thus contains two celestial luminaries, sun and moon, and the term msw, “child,” associates the king directly with Chonsu, son of Amun. Given the close associations between the two lunar deities, Chonsu and Thoth, this spelling could also identify Ramesses II with Thoth, god of erudition. In his closely related Year 3 inscription on the First Pylon – which celebrates the pharaoh’s scientific research – and elsewhere in the Ramesside court, the term “king” is written with both the ibis and baboon, two avatars of Thoth.101 A similarly anthropomorphic god appears at Hermopolis, bearing the interesting caption: “the Thoth of Ramesses II.” 102 It is possible, then, that this specific, human-headed form of Thoth is represented in the present spelling within Ramesses II’s nomen. 19 As in other examples, the typical mȝʿ.t-shaped socle under Amun’s throne is replaced with a gigantic mr-canal (cf. 109), incidentally evoking the theme of flood waters coming from Amun’s feet, as famously depicted in a nearly contemporaneous relief from Karnak.103 Note that this image of Amun is fully anthropomorphic, whereas the following icon (25) is criocephalic. Perhaps this is because the first Amun is part of the living king’s name, and thus more appropriately depicted as a royal human; in contrast to the the second, more outwardly transcendent ram form of Amun of Karnak.

L1 dỉ.w ʿnḫ mỉ Rʿ ḏ.t nḥḥ Given life like Re for ever and ever. 20–21 The standard hieroglyphic parallel provides the correct reading (dỉ.w ʿnḫ), but Drioton’s explanation for the present sign requires revision. Disregarding the ankh-sign

100 101 102 103

Van Essche 1997b. Cf. Darnell, this volume. Stadler 2012, 3–4. M. Gabolde 1995, especially 235–237, 256, Fig. 1.

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in the man’s right hand, Drioton suggested reading: dỉ ʿ(ȝ), “he who gives the mast,” requiring an exceptional interpretation of the sail hieroglyph,104 combined with the following signs to obtain the expected phrase. Yet since an identical figure reoccurs at the end of the Luxor text and writes the same phrase without phonetic complements (cf. infra, 113, not discussed by Drioton),105 the composite sign alone must somehow equal dỉ.w ʿnḫ, not just dỉ(.w) ʿ. As an icon, this sign recalls mortuary scenes in which gods (Anubis, Shu, Amun) present the ṯȝw-hieroglyph to the deceased,106 and technically the entire group could be a rebus for “giving the (breath) of life.” Yet for most sportive hieroglyphs depicting people handing over objects, the supporting arm usually writes m, not rdỉ/dỉ (cf. supra, 7). Instead, the two objects the man carries are significant: ṯȝw and ʿnḫ. The sail obtains the value dỉ.w < tỉw < ṯȝw, due to collapse of dentals and the consonantal principle.107 Phonetic spellings of ṯȝw are rare, but late orthographies indicate that this word was at least consonantally similar to the stative form dỉ.w, “given”,108 for example:109 ,

,

,

The male figure holds the ʿnḫ-sign conspicuously, almost awkardly, in front of his body, unlike the other standing figures of divinities. This unconventional pose makes clear that the ʿnḫ-was not carved as a mere accessory. Rather, this man was intended as a supporting sign, carrying two distinct hieroglyphs.110 21 At first glance, the goddess Nut appears to wear her typical semi-hieroglyphic crown: a sundisk containing her eponymous vessel. Yet Nut occurs at least two more times in this text, and in both examples she only bears the pot on her head, no sundisk (cf. 89, probably 98). Upon closer inspection, the present circular object is not a sundisk, but the hieroglyph for ḫ, carefully delineated with a thick outer circle (see Plate 2 below), so she has two phonetic complements (nḫ) on her head. 22 Drioton assumed Nut represented n and the present figure ḫ, and thus identified the damaged god as a jackal, obtaining the uniliteral value from ḫȝḫ, “speedy.” 111

104 According to Dilwyn Jones (1988, 156, No. 21), the term ʿȝ, “column,” may refer to various structural elements in ship construction (“columns, vertical timbers supporting deck or halfdeck?”), but not the mast. 105 Yet another example occurs in Hibis III, Pl. 51 (= Drioton 1940, 349, [67]; both editions with slightly inaccurate copies). 106 Lugn 1922, 19, Pl. XIV, No. 19 (New Kingdom); Dendara X, Pls. 192, 194; Bénédite, Philae, Pl. 36, II; Kaplan 1999, Pl. 83b. 107 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 361, nn. 68–69. 108 Compare the qualitative forms of the verb “to give” in Coptic (ⲧⲟ†\ⲧⲱ† [S], ⲧⲉⲓⲉ† [A], ⲧⲟⲓ† [B]; Crum, CD 392a) with the descendants of ṯȝw, “wind” (ⲧⲏⲩ [S], ⲧⲏⲟⲩ [A, F], ⲑⲏⲟⲩ [B]; CD 439b). 109 Examples with reference from Perdu 1992, 158, n. r; 2005, 216, n. c; Klotz 2009, 294, n. s; 2010, 143, n. 113; add also Deir Chelouit III, 151, 12. 110 Cf. the spelling of m kȝ.t in the Hibis parallels below, 67. 111 Drioton 1940, 324 (22).

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Plate 2: Luxor Inscription, 21–23 (photo courtesy Ralph Birk).

Although he did not go into this in more detail, winged jackals actual were called ʿḫḫ already in the New Kingdom, which could support a derivation ḫ < ỉḫḫ < ʿḫḫ.112 However, that discussion is moot, since the ḫ in ʿnḫ actually occurs in the previous sign, and more importantly, collation shows this god’s ears are shorter than on the other jackal signs from this text, and located in the middle of the head (see Plate 2 above). In other words, this is a feline deity, not a canid. In other cryptographic texts of the New Kingdom, the cat can have the value f or m.113 Given the present context, a “given life” statement, it is tempting to read this as mỉ-Rʿ, “like Re,” 114 with the figure representing the divine cat of Re (*mỉw Rʿ).115 Curiously, this very common adverbial phrase is missing from the parallel text on the south western architrave at Luxor.

112 For the latter phonetic change, see Osing 1980. 113 Lurson 2017, 228, n. d. 114 A similar use of the feline in this context would appear to occur in the beginning of the Padikakem inscription from Tuna el-Gebel, although Drioton 1940, 392, proposed to recognize it as an ideogram for “Sakhmet.” Rebus spellings involving a cat and the solar disk, evoking the Myth of the Wandering Goddess, occur in the Roman Period: Kurth 2007–2008, I, 212, 151–152. 115 E.g., Bohms 2013, 148–150.

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23 As Drioton observed, the value ḏ.t derives from ḏȝ.t, “crane” via the consonantal principle.116 A similar figure most likely writes ḏ.t elsewhere at Medinet Habu, but Drioton emended that hieroglyph to an ibis, which he read acrophonically ḏ.t < Ḏḥwty, “Thoth” (Drioton 1940, 331–332, 9). Using an avian deity to represent static, chthonic ḏ.t-eternity is noteworthy, since typically the solar, cyclical nḥḥ-eternity is associated with its own bird, the guinea fowl.117 24 The desert god Ha (Ḥȝ)118 frequently represents the uniliteral value ḥ, so this relatively frequent group (cf. 44) simply elaborates upon the standard nḥḥ orthography, similar to the Graeco-Roman sign: .119 At the same time, the depiction of Re between the two horizons succinctly expresses the perpetual motion of cyclical nḥḥ.121 eternity,120 akin to a more common monogram for the same word:

30

29

28

27

26

25

L1 mry Ỉmn-Rʿ nb ns.wt-tȝ.wy ḫnty Ỉp.t-s.wt Beloved of Amun-Re Lord of the Thrones of the Two Lands, Foremost of Karnak. NB: For this entire section, see already the detailed discussions by John Darnell and Ludwig Morenz.122

116 Wb. V, 516, 9–13. According to a Demotic gloss, this ornithological term was apparently pronounced ḏt or ḏtt in later periods (Osing 1998, I, 131–132, n. h), underscoring its near-homophony with ḏ.t, “eternity.” Vocalizations of the latter term are rare, but an orthography in the tomb of Ramesses IX (ḏṯ) indicates that the final dental was retained (Guilmant 1907, Pl. 70). Lurson 2017, 229–230, n. j, recently noted the bird at Luxor more closely resembles a crested heron than the usually bald crane (see the photograph here, Plate 2 above); note, however, that the same word for heron is determined with a similar crane bird in Edfou I, 337, 7, and possibly also CT I, 264h, B10Cb (semi-cursive, partially damaged). 117 Beaux 2004. 118 For this god, see Yoyotte 2013, 500–508. 119 Wb. II, 299; Kurth 2007–2008, I, 142, 162, n. 551; correctly understood by Drioton 1940, 324 (24–26), 355 (100–102). 120 Derchain 1975–1976. 121 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 322, No. 50. 122 Darnell 2004, 18–21, Pl. 1A; Morenz 2008, 220–222.

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25 As mentioned above (19), the ram-headed form of Amun (partially damaged here) occurs here specifically when designating Amun of Karnak, and below in reference to the eastern obelisk before Luxor (cf. 81),123 whereas the human-headed divinity appears to write the generic Amun” in the nomen of Ramesses II (19, 42). 26 A striding official represents the word “lord” via direct representation (see also 88). As Darnell has observed, the crown is characteristic of Tatenen, evoking the notion of Lower Egyptian kingship.124 27 The single throne (ns.t) substitutes for the expected three thrones (Memphis, Heliopolis, Thebes).125 Upper and Lower Egypt are represented by their standard heraldic plants. 28 This detailed depiction of a bark “sailing upstream (ḫntỉ)” 126 stands for the preposition ḫnty, “foremost.” 127 Since the hieroglyph actually faces south, Darnell suggested an allusion to the riverine Opet festival, wherein Amun of Karnak (mentioned here) would sail upstream to Luxor temple.128 One may likely understand yet another reference to Heliopolitan cults transplanted in Thebes, as the three shrines on board could belong to Atum, Shu, and Tefnut, virtually heading south towards Luxor. 29 As Morenz noted, the female scribe appears to inventory (ỉp.t) the objects contained in the ship before her.129 30 As Darnell observed, the three divine figures are very fanciful renderings of the expected plural strokes, which simultaneously allude to the Heliopolitan influence on theology in Thebes (Upper Egyptian Heliopolis), since they depict Amun, Chonsu-Shu, and Mut-Tefnut.130 Notably, a similar group occurs below (cf. 35) in the word “Isheru,” with a standing mummy replacing the figure of Amun. The dichotomy of Amun-Re (25) and Atum (35), both accompanied by Shu and Tefnut, anticipates their joint appearance later on in the same text (81–82).

123 For the close association of the ram with Amun in Karnak and Luxor, see inter alia Pamminger 1992. 124 Darnell 2004, 18–19, n. a. 125 Cauville 2010. 126 The boat alone can function as an ideogram to write the verb ḫntỉ already in the Middle Kingdom: Wb. III, 309. 127 This sign functions the same way at Medinet Habu and at Hibis (Drioton 1940, 337–338, 45; 342, 14), and elsewhere (Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 356, 359, n. 14). 128 Darnell 2004, 19, n. b. 129 Morenz 2008, 221–222. 130 Darnell 2004, 20.

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36

35

34

33

32

L1 Mw.t-wr.t nb.t Ỉšrw Ḫnsw [m WȜs.t nfr-ḥtp …] Mut the Great, Lady of the Lake, Chonsu [in Thebes Neferhotep …] 32 The double-crown securely identifies the goddess Mut. 33 Damage to the headdress prohibits any identification of the goddess represented here. 34 Hathor = nb.t (cf. 11). 35 For the mummy, Drioton proposed acrophony (ỉ < ỉrw, “form”), while Darnell ventured substitution with the seated-man, which would write the first person suffix pronoun (ỉ < =ỉ).131 Alternatively, the mummy appears to derive via the consonantal principle: ỉ < ỉȝw, “old man,” substituting for . Both signs depict the aged or deceased Atum,132 and the latter hieroglyph frequently writes the initial i of his name.133 One might compare the use of a similar sign in an enigmatic spelling of ,134 or two different spellings of “Isheru” on the private statue JE 36576: (Edfou IV, 298, 10), (Urk. VIII, 137d). Amun: As Drioton already observed, the following signs depict š < Šw, “Shu,” and rw(.t), “lioness,” allusions to the divine pair Shu and Tefnut.135 Similar combinations of = ršw.t, “joy” (Wb. these deities or their symbols occur in other terms, such as (r(ʿ) + šw + t),136 as well II, 454, 15), or the Roman orthography of the same word

131 Drioton 1940, 327 (41); Darnell 2004, 25, n. b. 132 The term ỉȝw, “aged,” can euphemistically denote the deceased, as in the non-royal epithet qrs-ỉȝw.w, “one who buries the elderly,” a variant of the more common qrs mwt.w, “one who buries the dead”: Janssen 1946, I, 113–114, Ga; Goedicke 1962, 29–30, n. (o). 133 Myśliwiec 1979, 58–59; Klotz 2010c, 72–73; cf. also Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 130, 151, n. 139. Note that the standing mummy hieroglyph even resembles the basic outline of the standard reed leaf. 134 Guermeur 2004, 253, 255, n. γ. 135 Drioton 1940, 327 (42–43). Note that a lion hieroglyph often represents the phoneme rw in standard spellings of “Isheru”; in all cases, this lion could allude to the unpacified form of MutSakhmet. 136 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 20. A similar group, with Horus in place of Re, writes nṯr.w, “the gods,” in Edfou I, 410, 5.

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as the peculiar writing of iȝ.t-wʿb, “Abaton”: .137 At Luxor, this group depicts the Heliopolitan triad while simultaneously writing the name “Isheru,” the horseshoeshaped lake sacred to both Tefnut and Mut.138 Although similar to the extended city sign in Ipet-Sut (30), the sign under these gods is actually a circular lake hieroglyph, similar to various depictions of goddesses seated upon Isheru thrones.139 Enigmatic trigrams often write divine names, but they occasionally represent toponyms as well. The Abydene triad of Osiris, Horus, and Isis very frequently writes the toponym Ỉwn.t, “Dendera,” 140 while various divinities from Esna phonetically stand for that city.141 Combinations of Re-Atum with his two children, as here at Luxor, are even more common. Another Tentyrite locale, “Tarer,” occurs in sportive trigrams: ,

,

.142

In all these cases, the scarab represents Re-Khepri-Atum, while the two lions, geese (cf. the term zȝ.ty, “children”), and primeval serpents stand for his children, Shu and Tefnut.143

L1 [ỉr.t n=f mnqb] šps m ḥw.t-nṯr Rʿ-ms-sw mry-Ỉmn ẖnm.t-nḥḥ [Namely, making for him] an august [palace], being the temple: Ramesses Beloved of Amun, United with Eternity.

137 Philä II, 401, 6; cf. Kurth 2007–2008, I, 158, n. 410. 138 For Tefnut and the Isheru, see Klotz 2012c, 168–170. 139 Tillier 2010, 175–176. 140 Klotz 2016, 210–211 (with references). 141 Esna II, 164A; Esna IV, 463, S; 464, N; 465, N; cf. Sauneron 1962, 91, n. r; Kurth 2007–2008, I, 533, n. 4. 142 Wb. V, 226, 1; Kockelmann 2002, 65–66; Budde 2011, 204. 143 Similarly, the final element of Esna (tȝ-sn.t), is sometimes composed with a pair (sn.ty) of identical divine animals (Esna II, 17, 5; Esna III, 300, 7; 318, 8 (6), (7); 378, 14, 21), alluding to Shu (Khnum) and Tefnut (Nebtuu), and the popular Latopolite epithet “sole god who transformed into two” (LGG IV, 391; Klotz 2012c, 173, n. 1130).

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37 Although this standing deity is damaged, the Luxor parallel indicates he should somehow represent the word šps, “august.” A similar, partially damaged figure from later in this inscription would seem to have the same value (76).144 Comparing their features, they both appears to depict an anthropomorphic deity wearing a kilt, short wig, and a sun-disk with no crown. Indeed, a similar hieroglyph ( ) occurs at Dendera where it also writes the adjective šps, “august.” 145 These iconographic details, particularly the combination of short wig and solar disk, are unique to Shepsi,146 the chief solar god of Hermopolis, and undoubtedly the origin of this phonetic value.147 38 Isis writes m < mw.t(-nṯr), “Mother (of God),” one of her standard epithets,148 just as with the goddess Nut elsewhere in this inscription.149 The same value occurs several times later on (45, 48, 71, 104). 39 This composite sign depicts an anonymous, bearded god (nṯr) within the temple (ḥw.t), a variation on a similar group from the temple of Sety I at Gurna: .150 The same sign reoccurs at the conclusion (105). Since the standing man can also write sr, this group also evokes the Heliopolitan ḥw.t-sr, “Castle of the Prince,” mentioned on the obelisks of Ramesses II before Luxor.151 40–41 For this spelling of “Ramesses,” cf. supra, 17–18. 43 Since there is no distinct goddess named “Khnumet,” this figure appears to represent the divinized courtyard of Ramesses II at Luxor, “Ramesses-II-United-(with)Eternity.” 152 44 Cf. 24.

144 A similar figure writes šps in the dedication of Sety I at Gurna (Drioton 1940, 312–313 [16]). Although much of the god is damaged, he clearly has the same unadorned solar disk on his head. 145 Dendara X, 34, 14; the reading was already established, without explanation, by Chassinat 1968, 497; Cauville 2001, 25. Kurth, meanwhile, proposed to interpret the latter sign as a phonetically complicated rebus: šps < š(s)p (wȝ)s, “he who grasps the scepter” (Kurth 2007–2008, I, 158, n. 403). Another example occurs in Dendara XIV, 60, 15. 146 For the god Shepsi, see Schmitz 1984; Thiem 2000, 118–120; LGG VII, 67; Klotz 2006, 78, n. 64. 147 Although his iconography sometimes varies, Shepsi primarily appears with a short wig, solar disk, and beard; cf. Schmitz 1984, 845, n. 17. For individual examples of this combination, see Parlebas 1980, Pls. 9–10; Chabân 1907, 220, Pl. II (middle left); Gauthier 1912, II, Pl. LIII, B; Roeder 1954, Pl. II (top row, behind Amun); Medinet Habu V, Pl. 298; Medinet Habu VII, Pl. 541A; Feucht 1978, 72, Fig. 1 and Pl. XXII; Naville 1891, Pl. 45A; Hibis III, Pl. 14, bottom right (damaged); Kessler 1998, 82–83, Pl. 55. 148 E.g., LGG III, 261; Klotz 2014–2016, 81–82, nn. c–d. 149 The same value occurs at Hibis: Drioton 1940, 350 (74). 150 Drioton 1940, 310 (1). 151 KRI II, 600, 6, and 11; 603, 4; discussed by Spalinger 2010, 448, n. 51. 152 Nelson 1942, 129; a similar female figure occurs at Medinet Habu: Nelson 1942, 131, Fig. 1, Pl. IV; Medinet Habu V, Pl. 338. For the goddess, see also Kuentz 1971, Pl. XX, right.

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L1 m pr-Ỉmn m ḫft-ḥr n Ỉp.t-rsy.t in the Domain of Amun, in front of the Southern Opet (Luxor Temple), 45 Although her crown is damaged, this goddess is likely Isis, once again writing the preposition m (38), just as in a similar position at the conclusion (104). 46–47 The two figures appear to be an obelisk followed by a striding king or god; a similar group occurs at the end of the text (111–112). If the latter god is indeed Amun, then the two signs could be a schematic rendering of Luxor Temple reduced to its most essential elements: stately obelisk(s) – specifically those built by Ramesses II – standing before the local divine statue, thus conceivably writing pr-Ỉmn, “the Temple of Amun.” For such a simplified depiction, compare the highly simplified rendering of the Contra-Temple at East Karnak as depicted at Chonsu Temple: Amun and Amunet standing behind the solitary, Heliopolitan obelisk.153 48 Cf. 38. 49–50 This ensemble presents a very fanciful spelling of the compound preposition ḫft-ḥr. The first figure depicts Chonsu, who has the phonetic value ḫ < ḫy, “child,” a common epithet.154 Since he elevates food offerings, his action reveals the phonetic value f (< fȝỉ ỉḫt, “lifting up food”),155 thus the composite writes: ḫf (< ḫy fȝỉ, “a child who lifts up (food)”).156 As a child deity, Chonsu is closely associated with the harvest, and the eponymous festival of Pachons celebrating his rebirth coincided with

153 Khonsu Temple I, Pl. 28; cf. Nims 1971. 154 Posener 1966, 118, especially n. 29. Compare also the use of Chonsu to write msw, “child” (19, 41). 155 Similar signs occur at Hibis: Drioton 1940, 350–351 (76, 79). Contrary to Drioton, this hieroglyph is not merely a variant of Gardiner A9 – where a man holds a vessel on his head – but rather a detailed representation of the action of “lifting up food offerings,” as depicted in offering scenes and elaborate hieroglyphs of the New Kingdom and later: van Essche 1997, 210, 212, Fig. 5. 156 Later in the same inscriptions, Ramesses II wears the blue crown while raising a similar tray of offerings, but that sign simply writes f (80).

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the arrival of new crops in Shomu.157 Meanwhile, as a junior heir god, much like Horus or Shu,158 Chonsu was in charge of producing food and providing divine offerings.159 The heron represents the phonetic value t < tȝ, “earth,” 160 possibly derived via interchange with the nearly-synonymous term bnw, “(primeval) land.” 161 The enclosure containing the heron, meanwhile, writes ḥ(r) < ḥw.t (both words corresponding to Coptic: ⲓ), a phonetic value attested already in the temple of Sety I at Gurna,162 and reoccurring later on in the present text (cf. 55). Taken together, the two composite signs write: ḫf + t + ḥ(r) > ḫft-ḥ(r),163 a reading the Klarschrift parallel confirms. Nonetheless, the second sign also resembles the term ḥw.t-bnw, “House of the Phoenix,” 164 comparable to the preceding composite sign (cf. 39), adding yet another Heliopolitan element to the frieze text.165 A remarkably similar spelling of ḫft-ḥr occurs much later in another monumental building text from Dendera:166

As at Luxor, the man carries (fȝỉ) a child (ḫ < ḫy), the wakeful eye derives from the verb ḫf, “to view,” the displaced scarab – corresponding to the heron at Luxor – writes t, and the castle sign writes ḥ(r). 51 The goddess’s head is partially damaged, but the standard hieroglyphic parallel writes n, suggesting this should actually be the goddess Neith wearing the red crown, as in 54.

157 Klotz 2009, 95–106; 2012c, 91–92, 391–392. 158 E.g., Inconnu-Bocquillon 1989. 159 In the Graeco-Roman period, Chonsu the Child most often received food offerings, particularly the rite of fȝỉ-ỉḫt: Klotz 2012c, 92, n. 404. 160 This value is relatively common in the New Kingdom: Drioton 1940, 328 (with a different derivation), 334 (22); Étienne-Fart 1994, 137–138 (cf. Klotz 2014a, 51, n. 86); Darnell 2004, 26, n. D, Pl. 1C. Another example may occur in an enigmatic text of Ramesses II from his temple at Abydos (Klotz 2012a, 25, n. H), but the reading is not certain (Lurson 2017, 229–230, n. j) 161 For this term, see Traunecker 1992, 152–153, n. e; Meeks 1999, 579. 162 Drioton 1940, 312 (10); Kurth 2007–2008, I, 339. Note that in other New Kingdom texts, the ḥrface can similarly write the unilateral value ḥ (Darnell 2004, 62, n. 122), while the preposition ḥr reduced phonetically to ỉḥ, ỉh, and variants in the Late Period (Klotz 2014b, 182, n. e). 163 Note that this composite term reduces to ḫfṱḥ or ḫfṱh in Demotic: CDD Ḫ (06:1), 78–82. 164 For this Heliopolitan shrine, with multiple replicas attested throughout Egypt, see Collombert 2012, 359–360. Note also that a similar group writes “Hibis” (< hȝy.t bȝ); cf. Hibis III, Pl. 51; Drioton 1940, 351–353 (83), with a needlessly complicated explanation; Klotz 2006, 123, n. C; Klotz 2009c, 21. 165 One text from the western obelisk at Luxor evokes the similar ḥw.t-bȝ of Heliopolis: KRI II, 603, 3; Spalinger 2010, 451. 166 Dendara IX, 40, 1–2; Cauville 2002, 103, 107.

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52 Although this detail is not entirely clear in the present facsimile, the goddess carries the Opet sign ( ) on her head.167 It is unclear whether this goddess is the divinized Luxor temple, or Ipet-weret from the Opet temple in Karnak.168 53 This word consists entirely of standard graphic or phonetic substitutions. The lion is an elaboration of for s,169 and the large loaf of bread is t (cf. 29). writes r,

L1

H1

H2 snṯ.tỉ ḥr tȝ m mḏ.t wr(.t) ỉn Sšȝ.t nb.t-qd.wt Built upon earth with a foundation exceedingly deep, by Seshat, Lady of Builders. 54 The verb snṯ, “to found,” corresponds to: netic value n or nt (cf. 51).

, with Neith having the standard pho-

55 Once again, the ḥw.t-sign writes the preposition ḥr (50). The divine figure with a scarab on his head would normally represent Khepri, but the parallel shows he is merely a carrier for the beetle sign with its regular cryptographic value tȝ, “earth.” 170 One may note that the conventional tȝ-sign stood for ṯ in the preceding word snṯ (54), and thus it may have been avoided here for purposes of dissimilation. 56 The vulture writes m < mw.t, “mother” (Coptic ⲙⲁⲁⲩ, ⲙⲁⲩ). The elaborate crown singles out the vulture as Nekhbet (110), unlike the simple vulture sign that occurs later (85). 167 Noted by Valbelle and Laroze 2010, 432, n. 39. 168 Valbelle and Laroze 2010, 421–424. 169 Darnell 2004, 42, n. 24, 612; Kurth 2007–2008, I, 379, 387, n. 172. 170 Yoyotte 1955, 86–87, n. a; Darnell 2004, 25, n. a; Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 299, n. 2. Similar carrier signs occur in the Graeco-Roman period: Kurth 2007–2008, I, 139, 159, n. 432; Dendara XII, xxi.

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57 Presumably the damaged sign is some variant of mḏ, such as:

.

58 Although this figure can represent a number of words in the Graeco-Roman period,171 here it apparently writes wr.t < tȝ-wr.t, “Thoueris,” the most common name for hippo goddesses during the New Kingdom.172 59 The running man writes ỉn already in the Old Kingdom, and this value is quite common throughout all periods.173 In the second Hibis version, Hathor represents the unilateral value n < nbw.t.174 60 Although the headdress is damaged, the Luxor and Hibis parallels clearly indicate that this goddess is Seshat. 61 Again, Hathor writes nb.t < nbw.t, “the Golden.” 62 Khnum sitting at the potter’s wheel can be an ideogram a number of related verbs (e.g., nḥp, ẖnm, qd), but the Klarschrift parallel confirms that this example writes qd, resulting in nb.t-ỉqd.w, a well-known epithet of Seshat (LGG IV, 23). Remarkably, Khnum here operates the fly-wheel with his feet, making this hieroglyph the earliest unambiguous representation of the potter’s kick wheel in Egypt.175

L1

H1

H2 ḫws.tỉ [m kȝ.t=mnḫ.t] n.t ḥḥ in Ptḥ msỉ ḥmw.w

171 Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 145. 172 See recently Darnell 2013a, 21–23. 173 Drioton 1940, 355 (103); Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 128, 148, n. 54. 174 Klotz 2012a, 25–26. 175 Klotz 2013; to the bibliography there, add also to the bibliography discussed there, add also Bettles 2011; Franco and Lecuyot 2011.

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Rendered stable through the excellent work of millions, by Ptah, Fashioner of Artisans. 63 This sign is a standard ideogram for the verb ḫwsỉ, “to render a foundation stable for construction.” 176 64 This phonetic value (tỉ < tỉ.t, “Isis knot”) is common in the New Kingdom and later.177 65 Based on the Hibis parallels, the goddess in the Luxor version should be Neith wearing her usual red crown (cf. 51, 54). 67 Here the scribes employed a variant spelling for the particle in (cf. 59). The second example from Hibis is noteworthy (ỉn < ỉwn, “pillar”); elsewhere at Hibis, the same sign writes ỉn(r), “stone.” 178 68 In all three versions, the god simply represents Ptah, and not the specific epithet rsy-ỉnb=f as Drioton had suggested for the Hibis texts.179 69 Similar depictions of a striding figure, either the king or Horus, wearing the double crown and carrying regalia usually write nb, “lord,” 180 and that is how Drioton understood the Hibis variants.181 Nonetheless, Drioton already noted that Ptah quite frequently receives the epithet msỉ ḥmw.w, “who creates artisans/workshops,” particularly in the context of temple construction.182 The royal figure, particularly when depicted as Horus in H1, could simply be yet another depiction of the king as a divine heir, just as in the various spellings of Ramesses in this text (18, 107). More likely, the statuesque form of the king, particularly apparent in version H2 where it even stands upon a sledge,183 might signify the term msw.t/mstiw, “image; replica.” 184 70 Presumably the oval sign occurring beneath the clubs at Luxor and Hibis writes the phonetic complement w < ỉw, “island.” 185

176 For the sign, and the nuances of this verb, cf. Meeks 2004, 132, n. 446. 177 Drioton 1936a, 4, n. g; Darnell 2004, 336, n. 272. 178 Drioton 1940, 354 (94), 365 (146–147). 179 Drioton 1940, 357 (113), 368 (168). 180 E.g., Piankoff and Rambova 1954, Pl. 70; Darnell 2004, 18–19, n. a, 26, n. c; Kurth, 2007–2008, I, 141–142. 181 Drioton 1940, 356–357 (114), 368 (169), 182 Drioton 1940, 358 (115); LGG III, 409; van der Plas 1986, I, 77–78; Yoyotte, 1989, 129. 183 Myśliwiec 2006. 184 Wb. II, 141, 14; 151, 10–14; see also Baines 1986. 185 Darnell 2004, 54, n. 87; but see also Roberson, Cryptographic Lexicon, sv. N18.

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L1 Destroyed m ỉnr mȝṯ ȝbw Out of stone, granite of Elephantine. 71 Isis once again writes m (38), and stands upon an ideogram for ỉnr, “stone.” 72 For reasons of dissimilation, Neith stands upon a curved, ovoid version of the sign beneath Isis. Perhaps the second sign actual represents ỉ(w), “island” (cf. 70), and thus this group could be an inverted spelling of ỉ(w)n < ỉnr, “stone.” 186 Note, however, that similar expressions would suggest reading an indirect genitive: m ỉnr n(w) mȝṯ.187 73 The feline (mȝi/miw) and phallus (ṯȝy/mṯȝ) phonetically spell mȝṯ, which remarkably is sometimes spelled with a medial yod.188 The combination of the wild animals and mountains exoticize the near-Nubian origin of the granite, while the penis alludes to the god Min, chief prospector of Nubia,189 and patron deity of various quarries. Although this and the following sections are partially damaged in the symmetric frieze inscription (L1), similar phraseology concerning the pylon and obelisks occur elsewhere at Luxor.190

186 187 188 189 190

Compare the spelling ỉnr, “stone,” at Hibis (ỉn + ỉwn): Drioton 1940, 365 (146–147). E.g., nearby at Luxor: KRI II, 616, 2. Wb. II, 34, 3. Yoyotte 1952. L2 = KRI II, 607, 12–13; L3 = KRI II, 605, 9.

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L1 L2 L3 bḫn.t(?) šps(.t) m dḫn.wy ỉt=f Ỉmn-Rʿ Ỉtm An august pylon comprising two obelisks, (being) his father: Amun-Re and Atum. 75 One might transcribe the ideogram for pylon as bḫn.t,191 but the other dedication text (L2) employs the architectural term wbȝ, “entrance,” which can also designate an open-air forecourt, pylon, or the space before the pylon.192 Notably absent from this remarkable hieroglyph are any representations of Ramesses II’s colossal statues, as depicted in other reliefs from the pylon and forecourt.193 Those objects are mentioned and illustrated in the following passages. 76 As noted above (cf. 37), the present figure is the Hermopolitan god Shepsi, writing the homophonous adjective, just as in the parallel L3. 77 According to the parallel (L2), this goddess should be Isis or Nut with the value m (cf. 38, 89). 79 Confouding expectations slightly, this divine figure is not a direct representation of Khepri, the god who usually features a scarab beetle atop his head. Instead, the figure simply carries the relevant sign, which here writes (ỉ)t, “father” (cf. 55).194 The surrounding group evokes a Heliopolitan offering scene: Ramesses II wears the solar blue crown (80)195 while presenting food offerings before Amun-Re-KhepriAtum (79, 81–82), near two solar obelisks (78).

191 As in dedication texts from the Luxor pylon: KRI II, 605, 6 and 9. 192 For this term, see Wallet-Lebrun, 1985; Quaegebeur 1993, 204, n. 17; Rondot 1997, 142–143. 193 See recently Schlüter 2009, 392–393, 396–397 (to which this example should be added). 194 For the scarab alone writing ỉt, rather than t or tȝ, see already Yoyotte 1955, 87, n. a. 195 In general, the khepresh-crown designates the king as a youthful, active, and legitimate representative of the solar god on earth; cf. Bryan 2007.

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80 Ramesses II writes f < fȝỉ-ỉḫt (cf. 49–50). 81–82 Two striding divinities represent Amun-Re (ram-headed, and hence Theban), and Atum (identifiable by his double crown).196 The image of Amun deserves particular attention. In a landmark study, Peter Pamminger examined numerous reliefs and statues of Amun from Thebes and Nubia, concluding that the “true” form of Amun of Luxor closely resembled his peer from Napata; namely, ram-headed with double plumes.197 Yet this argument relies solely on private monuments, on which criocephalic and other less common depictions of Amun more regularly occur;198 in Theban temples, he appears almost exclusively with a human face. The present relief, unavailable to Pamminger back in 1992, thus represents the first clear depiction of a ram-headed Amun on the walls of Luxor temple,199 albeit without the double plumes always found in Napata. All three texts from Luxor mention a singular “father,” but list both Amun and Atum. Kitchen assumed this was a composite deity (“obelisks (of) his father AmenreAtum”),200 but this passage more likely refers to two manifestations of a single solar deity:201 Amun-Re during the day, and Atum at night. This nuance is crucial to understanding the inscription and its broader relation to the Ramesside courtyard in Luxor, and will be discussed in greater detail in the conclusion.

L1 L2 L4

196 A similar figure writes Atum in one of the enigmatic texts from Hibis: Drioton 1940, 374 (198); the correct reading, not recognized by Drioton, is confirmed by the parallel in Hibis III, Pl. 26, far left. Ideographic spellings of Atum were commonplace in standard texts during the Ramesside Period: Myśliwiec 1979, 210–211. 197 Pamminger 1992; see also Kormysheva 2004. 198 See more recently Toye 2009, especially 258, n. 8, 260, Pl. VII. 199 The other example above (25) is partially damaged, and occurs specifically in a reference to Amun of Karnak. The passage in question, meanwhile, refers specifically to Amun (and his obelisk) at Luxor. 200 Kitchen, 1996, 405; similarly Abd El-Razik 1975, 132. 201 For the links between Amun and Atum, see L. Gabolde 2013, 29–31.

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pẖr.tỉ m ẖnty.w nb m bỉȝ.t mȝṯ ỉnr-km Surrounded by statues of the lord, in quarzite, red granite, and black granite. 83 In the Graeco-Roman period, the lion represents the value pẖr in certain composite , apparently because in this group “der Löwe umkreist [pẖr] etforms such as was.” 202 However, in the present, much earlier example, a solitary, recumbent lioness writes this verb, and thus it cannot derive via the same rebus principle. Instead, this is a direct representation of the leonine goddess Pakhet of Speos Artemidos, depicted with her characteristic upturned tail.203 Although usually spelled Pḫ.t, Pḫ(ȝ).t, or Pȝḫ.t, her name can also be written as the similar Pẖr.t )204 or Pẖȝỉ.t.205 Likewise, her eponymous city, Pekhyt ( , vel. sim.), (e.g., 206 ). can also be spelled Pẖr.t ( While this might seem to be an obscure, cult-topographical reference, there is some evidence that pḫȝ.t was originally the specific Egyptian term for a female lioness, distinguished from rw, “lion.” 207 Later texts such as BD 164 employ the phrase m ḥr n pḫȝ.t (“with the face of Pakhet”), to describe images of leonine goddesses.208 84 Cf. 64. 85 m < mw.t (cf. 56). Note the remarkable use of thematic cryptography: the phrase “surrounded by” is composed as a triangle of signs which one may read counterclockwise, evoking the apotropaic connotations of the verb pẖr. Moreover, the specific hieroglyphs are particular symbols of protection: a lioness, vulture, and the apotropaic, Isis-knot amulet, anticipating the three-headed figure of Mut (lion, vulture, human) which protects the deceased in Book of the Dead 164.209 While the latter text only occurs later, depictions of an ithyphallic, lion-headed Mut appears already in the New Kingdom.210

202 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 214, n. 178; Fairman 1945, 127, refrained from trying to explain this phonetic value. This phonetic value occurs as early as the Third Intermediate Period: Jansen-Winkeln 1985, I, 68, n. 3. 203 Wb. I, 498, 14–15; LGG III, 28; Takacs 2019. 204 Wb. I, 549, 16; Gardiner, AEO II, *90 (mentioning a New Kingdom example from TT 26); Gomaà 1982, 640–641 (who cited Fecht 1960, § 52). Her name also occurs in Demotic as Pẖe.t (Erichsen, DG 139). 205 Wüthrich 2010, 150, n. 136. 206 Daressy 1916, 269; Ranke 1945, 242; Dendara XII, 121, 7; Dendara XV, 244, 10 and 13; Dendara, Le temple d’Isis, 176, 10 and 13. For more on this toponym, see Cauville 2009, 148; 2015, 4–13; Klotz and Leblanc 2012, 661–662, n. k. 207 For this phenomenon in general, not specifically for lions, see Vernus 2006. 208 Cauville 1995, 53, 55, 58. 209 Wüthrich 2010, 122–123, 150–151. 210 LD III, 219b; cf. Klotz 2012c, 271, n. 291.

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87 Since these standing figures wear the white and double crowns, and they are lated specified to be made of granite and quarzite (cf. 90–91), they would appear to designate the royal statues within the Ramesside courtyard,211 as the verb pẖr, “to encircle,” would suggest.212 88 Cf. 26. 89 Just like Isis (cf. 38), Nut could write the uniliteral value m from her frequent epithet mw.t-nṯr(.w), “mother of the god(s).” Alternatively, as with Seshat earlier (13), this value could derive not through antonomasia, but with Nut merely carrying the nwpot on her head.213 In that case, this might reflect a simple substitution of m < n(w),214 a consonantal derivation, m < mnw (“beer (jar)”),215 or perhaps a more complicated process: nw > ỉn (simple pot for the walking variant)216 > m (phonetic interchange between (ỉ)n and m in Late Egyptian).217 90–91 The middle sign writes mȝṯ, “(red) granite,” perhaps intentionally dissimilated from the more iconic spelling employed earlier (73). The final composite sign writes ỉnr km, “black granite,” 218 using a rectangular block (ỉnr) enclosing the lock of hair which usually stands as a determinative for km, “black.” 219 Note that the standard spelling of bỉȝ.t, “quarzite,” 220 identical to the parallels, is already iconic and animated due to its jackal head.

L1

211 Abd el-Razik 1998; 1999; 2000. Note that in L2, the statues also include both enthroned and Osirian statues of the king (cf. van Essche 1997b, 214). 212 For the architectural meanings of the verb pẖr, cf. Rondot 1997, I, 138, with n. 139. 213 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 428. 214 Note that this interchange occurs even more frequently when preceding a labial, just as in the present case (i.e. n bỉȝ.t > m bỉȝ.t): Kurth 2007–2008, I, 513, 519. 215 Fairman 1945, 71, n. 4. 216 Morenz 2002; Klotz 2014–2015, 80, n. 22. 217 E.g., (ỉ)ntk > mntk, “you”, (ỉ)n > m (agential particle): see Uljas 2005. 218 Harris 1961, 74. 219 Wb. V, 122–124, Kurth 2007–2008, I, 167. 220 Wb. I, 438,16–439,1; Harris 1961, 75–76.

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ʿȝ.wy ḫm/ʿḥ m ḥmty m qmȝ ʿm(.w) m nbw Sṯ.t The doors of the chapel/palace are of beaten copper, overlaid with Asiatic gold. 92 Restoring: . The two arms (ʿ.wy) stand for the nearly homophonous “double doorleaves” (ʿȝ.wy).221 93 Although only partially preserved, the unusual sign can be restored thanks to additional examples from Luxor and elsewhere as follows: .222 Nonetheless, the proper transliteration remains problematic. In the Sety I inscription at Gurna, the parallel Klarschrift text clearly writes ḫm, “sanctuary,” leading Dimitri Meeks to identify the clavicle on a standard, the emblem of the Letopolite nome, with a singularlyattested anatomical term ḫm.t.223 Yet in the present case, the Luxor parallel very clearly writes ʿḥ, “palace,” and the inscriptions of Ramesses II often refer to his forecourt at Luxor this way.224 While the two versions of the text may have simply used synonyms in this one instance, one might also propose a phonetic rendering for ʿḥ: = ʿ (substitution of kind with or consonantal principle < = ḥ (cf. 50, 55)

= ʿ, “limb”; = ỉwʿ)225

Note, however, that the enigmatic inscription of Sety I at Gurna uses the animal shank on a standard to write ḫm, and a similar phonetic decomposition ( ) for ʿḥ in close succession.226 Furthermore, at least two standard hieroglyph examples from Luxor do not incorporate the castle sign ( ),227 prompting yet another explanation. Despite early spellings of the term in question with the ‘ayin-arm, various evidence suggests it was eventually pronounced knḥ, as in Demotic.228 Accordingly, one 221 In a much later papyrus (P. Carlsberg 182 + PSI I 77), the double-doors apparently serve to write ʿ.wy, “two arms” (Osing 1998, 236, n. e). Similarly, the usual ʿȝ-sign can represent the unilateral ‘ayin: Kurth 2007–2008, I, 345, 352, n. 205; Drioton 1940, 376 (210). 222 This term occurs in other texts of Ramesses II from Luxor: KRI II, 346, 9 (partially damaged; the sign is much clearer in Kuentz 1971, Pl. XXIV); 614, 6; it also occurs in the temple of Sety I at Gurna (Drioton 1940, 313–314 [17]), and Hibis temple (ibid, 345 [45]; the partially damaged sign is clearer in the copy in Hibis III, Pl. 50, right center). 223 Meeks 2004, 77, n. 166. 224 E.g., KRI II, 607, 13; 614, 7; 616, 1, 15. 225 Kurth 2007–2008, I, 236, n. 189. 226 Drioton 1940, 310, 319; Lurson (2017, 230, n. k) assumed the ḥw.t sign is used here through substitution of kind with the usual palace hieroglyph. 227 KRI II, 614, 6. 228 Wb. V, 113, 13; Jansen-Winkeln 1985, 104, n. 8; Quack 2009, 133. Ultimately, this later pronunciation may result from phonetic shifts between q and ʿ (e.g., qrf ~ ʿrf, “to wrap up,” qmȝ ~ ʿmʿȝ, “to hunt birds”; Klotz 2010a, 223, n. 98), and between ʿ and n (Alcock 2008, 276; Allen 2014, 35, 42).

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might conceivably read the present sign as knḥ < qʿḥ(.t), “(animal) shoulder,” 229 with the ‘ayin in the latter term somehow resembling the nasal n in knḥ,230 perhaps ultimately related to gȝḥ, “shoulder,” 231 and the common triliteral value grḥ for (“upper arm”).232 94 Understanding: = ḥmty, “copper” (< ḥm + ḏ). The small circles marking the plural are standard for a mineral substance, but here they suggest a more subtle reference. One could interpret the composite sign as a club striking a large serpent, followed by a series of balls. This would evoke the ritual of hitting balls, which symbolized the destruction of the dangerous eye of Apophis near Heliopolis.233 The combined serpent and club also recall a standard composite sign for ḥḏ, especially since the similar ḥm and ḥḏ signs are rather frequently confused in both hieratic and hieroglyphs.234 95 Kitchen restored the Hathoric crown, but the divine headdress is unclear. Based on other cryptographic values in this text, one would expect either Isis or Nut to write the expected preposition m. 96 Significant portions of this sign are missing. Nonetheless, collation confirms that the running king carries a large object before him in his left hand, and what appears to be a long wȝs-scepter with composite ʿnḫ-sign joined to its top. The latter detail excludes most ritual runs and points towards the so-called “bird run (Vogellauf )”.235 In these scenes, the king usually carried several long reeds in one hand, sometimes identified with the ʿnḫ-ḏd-wȝs symbols.236 Occasionally, the king holds the reeds so tightly together that the symbols overlap,237 as in the present example. Consequently, the running king at Luxor should carry the ȝḫ-bird in his left hand, and indeed traces of its usual crest and curved beak are discernible through the damage. Based on the Klartext parallel, the goddess followed by the running king should write the phrase m qmȝ, “being hammered (metal).” 238 The king performing the Vogellauf might have obtained the value qmȝ in at least two ways. Most likely, this derives from the verb qmȝ, “to move,” known primarily through its descendants in

229 Wb. V, 19, 6–15. 230 For ‘ayin transcribed as n in Coptic, see Alcock 2008, 276. 231 Walker 1997, 277. 232 Similar phonetic and lexical similarities may be found between the terms knḥ, “to be dark,” and grḥ, “night”: Hornung 1961, 113–114. 233 Borghouts 1973. 234 Klotz 2014b, 202, n. g. 235 Kees 1912, 4–21, Pls. I–II; 1914, 61–64; LeBlanc 2011, 337; Cauville 2009, 79. 236 Kees 1912, 11–15; 1914, 63. 237 See notably examples from Luxor (Gayet 1894, Pl. 70, Fig. 210 = Kees 1912, Pl. II, Abb. 2), Karnak and Hibis (Decker and Herb 1994, II, Pls. 28, A179; 43, A243), and Kumma (Caminos 1998, Pl. 37). 238 Wb. V, 36, 16–37, 6; Janssen 1975, 431, n. 147; Grandet 1994, II, 14, n. 63.

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Demotic (qmȝ) and Coptic (ⲕⲓⲙ). 239 The only other ancient Egyptian attestation for this verb occurs in P. Anastasi I, 9, 5, and one copy appears to have confused the verb of motion with the same metalworking term.240 Less likely, the king’s actions could be linked to the homophone qmȝ, “to throw a boomerang (at birds),” calling to mind the related term ʿmʿȝ, “to hunt birds with a throwstick” (Wb. I, 186, 1–2), thus anticipating the following verb (ʿmʿ). 97 The parallel text has the verb ʿmỉ ( j, via consonantal principle. The following n-hieroglyph retains its conventional value, while the duck (RVIa) and vulture (RVIb) each write the final w, through the widely attested interchange of bird signs.50 The “Heliopolis” named here (thus, also L↓ and § 9, E) surely represents Jwnw n dwɜ.t, “Heliopolis-of-the-Underworld,” the chthonic counterpart to the (terrestrial) solar city and burial site of the sun god, attested since the Coffin Texts.51

43 Drioton 1942, 101. 44 The parallel text from the Book of the Day, which describes the “horizon of the east,” includes the conventional ḫɜs.t-hieroglyph as a determinative of jɜbt.t, “east,” in version W1 (see Müller-Roth 2008, 126). The spelling of Jmnt.t with doubled t (Wb I, 87.1–13), is attested since the Old Kingdom but is particularly characteristic of Ramesside-era cosmological texts. However, the same spelling in the present context might also represent the feminine nisbe jmn.tt, “western” (Wb I, 86.15–19), yielding “western horizon.” Either analysis is orthographically and semantically plausible, with little to recommend one over the other. 45 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. D37, ḏw (Gates, Earth, Nut) and D40, ḏw (Amduat, Earth, Solar-Osirian Unity). 46 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. N25, ḏw (Caverns, Solar-Osirian Unity), N26, ḫɜs.t (Theban tomb of Djehuty). 47 See Wb I, 87.7, 10; Wb V, 616.1–4. 48 Müller-Roth 2008, 126. 49 Drioton 1942, 90 and 105, reading J(w)nw. 50 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. G1, w, and G39, w. 51 E.g., CT I, 185a–b, wherein the flesh and corpse of Re are said to lie in Heliopolis (thus, also Osiris; compare CT V, 284b), in contrast to the sky where the sun god’s soul travels. For a through discussion of this locality, see Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 424–427; with additional comments in Darnell 2004, 419–421.

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H. In RVIa, the independent pronoun ntsn has been written sntn, as an obvious error of metathesis, corrected in RVIb.52 A similar ntsn-fronted participial statement occurs at this point in the parallel text from the Book of the Day.53 The three, lashed jackals write sṯɜ, “those who haul/tow.” 54 The jackals, together with the solar barque to which they are lashed also serve as a direct representation of the towing of the sun god through the night time sky toward the eastern horizon, as depicted in the accompanying vignette.55 The use of three jackal figures serves as archaic indication of the plural, alluding to the iconographic plurality of towing figures in the vignette, as opposed to the grammatically singular participle itself.56 Of course, the towing figures also evoke the ongoing cryptographic theme of sɜb.w, “jackals,” through direct representation. This identification prompted Drioton to read the lashed jackal figures as sbj.w, “those who conduct.” 57 Such a rebus value, derived plausibly via consonantal principle, would parallel the reading of the triple stars as sbj.w, “those who travel,” proposed above (C↑). However, while sbj, with the sense of “conduct,” and sṯɜ, “tow,” would appear nearly synonymous in this context, the jackal hieroglyph is associated almost exclusively with the latter value,58 particularly in conjunction with the solar barque.59 Thus, we may regard sṯɜ as the primary value, while sbj represents a plausible alternative or parallel reading. 52 Probably not an instance of cryptic perturbation, which is employed usually to add an additional level of meaning to the text (Manassa 2006, 114). 53 Müller-Roth 2008, 128–129, 3: ntsn sḫᶜ ᶜ (.w) Rᶜ, “It is they who cause Re to appear,” etc. 54 Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 119, n. 266; the lashed jackals constitute a direct representation of the sɜb.w sṯɜ.w Rᶜ, “jackals who sṯɜ-haul Re,” for which, see Leitz 2003–2003, vol. 6, 145. The rebus value sṯɜ derives from the jackal’s use as determinative and logogram with that value, attested since at least the Nineteenth Dynasty, from the reigns of Seti I and Ramesses II, e.g., KRI I, 130, 5; 171, 14–16; 188, 12; 191, 7; 195, 1; KRI V, 303, 5; Calverley 1958, pl. 7 (lower right); and Malek 1981, 163, fig. 3. For a unique example featuring three, lashed jackal heads, compare also KRI II, 898, 9; and Pasquali 2011, 59 (with thanks to Philippe Collombert and John Darnell); compare also a Twenty-First Dynasty Hieratic orthography, featuring a single lashed head in Möller 1965, 46, nr. 519; with additional references in DuQuesne 1990, 10, n. 31. For transitive use of the verb, see Wb III, 431. 55 See Piankoff 1954, pls. 150–52, 196. For the jackals as “haulers/towers” of the sun barque, see DuQuesne 1990, 6–8 and passim. 56 Thus, the Middle Egyptian participial statement always employs the singular participle, regardless of the number of its antecedent (Allen 2000, § 23.13; Baumann 1998, 28, n. 51); compare the explicitly singular participle following ntsn in § 10, A↓. Regarding the iconography of the vignette, note also that the expanded towing crew includes four jackals, four human figures, and one crocodile headed deity (see Piankoff 1954, pls. 150, 196). 57 Drioton 1942, 103, 75 (consonantal reduction from sɜb, “jackal”). Cf. the reading as sṯɜy.w offered later in ibid., 103, 77, which the present study interprets logographically, as sɜb.w, “Jackalfolk” (K↓). 58 See references at n. 54, above; also see Barta 1990, 126, who records 112 instances of sṯɜ, “tow,” in the Books of the Earth, Caverns, Gates, and Amduat, versus nineteen instances of sbj (zbj), “go,” for which see n. 33, above. 59 Compare Leitz 2002–2003, vol. 6, 703–704: sṯɜ.w wjɜ, “those who tow the barque” (3IP–GR), sṯɜ.w wjɜ n [?], “those who tow the barque of [?] (NK), sṯɜ.w wjɜ ᶜɜ m p.t, “those who tow the great

160 I.

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The boat with its falcon-headed passenger serves as a direct representation of wjɜ n Rᶜ, the “barque of Re.” Lacking phonetic complements, one might of course substitute any appropriate synonym for “barque” or “boat,” e.g., dp.t.60 However, other instances of this phrase from the Book of the Day, spelled out fully, suggest the value of wjɜ, employed here.61 Drioton renders this group and the following as sm(ɜ).n=sn, “after having united with” those who tow (K↓) inside the western horizon (L↓).62 His solution is unworkable. On the one hand, the preceding row has already established the identity of the jackal-headed bas as gods of the “western horizon” and as “haulers” (sṯɜ.w) or “conductors” (sbj.w) of the solar barque (H↑). Consequently, Drioton’s solution would appear to describe those beings as uniting with themselves. Furthermore, while Drioton’s reading of the sw-plant for s is a reasonable derivation by consonantal principle, his interpretation of the standing male figure as m, by acrophony from mnw, “statue,” must be discarded. Aside from the problematic nature of acrophony itself, Drioton’s transcription of the standing figure as a statue atop a pedestal ( ) is incorrect: Piankoff’s photograph of the text shows a line extending from the bottom of the rear leg up to the figure’s staff.63 If this line represented a pedestal, as Drioton wished, then the figure was drawn without feet. Furthermore, a comparison with other human male hieroglyphs from the same inscription confirms that the draftsman did occasionally depict human feet as a single, long line.64 Thus, we may state with confidence that the Hieroglyph in question depicts only a standing male holdas swr, ing a staff, as Roulin transcribes correctly.65 The present reading of “make great, praise, glorify,” 66 preserves Drioton’s grammatical interpretation

barque through the sky” (3IP), sṯɜ.w wjɜ n p.t “those who tow the barque of the sky” (GR), sṯɜ.w Rᶜ, “those who tow Re” (3IP–GR), sṯɜ.w wjɜ Rᶜ r ᶜ jmnt.t n.t p.t, “those who tow Re to the western region of the sky” (Saite), and sṯɜ.w nṯr ᶜɜ r ɜḫ.t jmnt.t, “those who tow the great god to the western horizon of the sky” (3IP–GR). 60 Diego Espinel 2014, 334 (P30). 61 Thus, e.g., Müller-Roth 2008, 128–129, 132 (14); Drioton 1942, 86: . 62 Drioton 1942, 90. 63 Piankoff 1954, pl. 150, register below the middle band of stars, first ruled column. Note that the uraeus and most of the head of the (evidently royal) figure in RVIb, now destroyed, were recorded already by Champollion (Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 153, n. a). 64 Thus, e.g., Piankoff 1954, pl. 152, register below the middle band of stars, col. 8 (striking male); pl. 187, uppermost row, between the standing figures on the left (praising male). Thus, also from the Books of the Day and Night in the sarcophagus hall, for which compare ibid., pl. 190, first row beneath the band of water, cols. 8, 13, 22 (male with arms upraised). 65 Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 153, 2. 66 See Wb IV, 70.17–23: , said of people, gods, the king, etc. This attested substitution of the upright man with staff (A21) for the “more senile,” bent figure (A20) exploits the two signs’ similarity of form (thus, with regard to the Hieroglyphic forms, Gardiner 1994, 444; for contemporary Hieratic, in which the figures are generally distinct, cf. Möller 1965, 2, nrs. 11–14; for the regular value of the bent figure as wr, see Fischer 1976, 87–88, versus the upright, sr-figure, in ibid., 90,

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as the sḏm.n=f in a clause of circumstance, while discarding his reading of the verbal root itself, as well as the direct object (K↓). Alternately, the sw-plant might also substitute for M24 ( ), writing rsj, “southern,” 67 with the standing figure supplying a feminine ending t, by consonantal principle from jty, “sovereign.” 68 The resulting adjective rsj.t, modifying p.t, would indicate that the western bas conduct the barque of Re toward the “southern sky.” Such a solution makes excellent sense within the Egyptians’ cosmological framework, through their association of the western horizon with the southern sky: Egyptian representations of the four quarters of the cosmos frequently pair West and South in opposition to East and North.69 Following this alternate reading, we might then understand n(j) sn sɜb.w as an adjectival sentence of possession, “they belong to the jackals,” in a clause of circumstance: “It is they who haul the barque of Re to the southern sky, because they belong to the Jackal-folk in Heliopolis and the Horizon of the West.” Given that both the primary and alternate readings are orthographically plausible and contextually sound, it is conceivable that the text might have been encoded deliberately with double meaning.70 K. Drioton reads the jackal here as sṯɜy.w, “haulers,” by metonymy, i.e. as a representation of the jackal-aspect of the beings who haul the solar barque. However, as mentioned above (J↑), his reading would appear to describe the “haulers/ conductors” as “uniting” with themselves. Thus, I interpret the jackal in this instance at face value, as a logogram, reading sɜb.w, “jackal-folk.” 71 The design. 52). The sw-sedge writes s by consonantal principle, as Drioton (1942, 90, 99, Nº 76) surmised correctly. 67 This value, in the phrase p.t rsj.t, occurs twice in the Awakening of Osiris (Roberson 2013, 79, 6; 82, 4). 68 Similar figures, with and without uraei or additional objects in the left hand, are well-attested as determinatives for jty (see Wb I, 143.3–20). 69 Baines 1985, 256; Roberson 2013, 13, n. 54, 128–31. 70 As a third alternative, David Klotz (personal communication) has suggested that might also be read sw ᶜḥᶜ n=sn sɜb.w, “and the Jackal-folk stand for them” in Heliopolis, etc. For the standing figure as a writing of ᶜḥᶜ, see idem 2012, 140–141g; for the concept of deities manifesting their power in an animal form, described as ᶜḥᶜ n, “standing for” god so-and-so, see Von Lieven 2004 and Fischer-Elfert 2008, 124; for the narrative particle sw, “and so, then,” see Wb IV, 59.14; and Gardiner 1994, § 240; for examples from a variety of New Kingdom cosmological texts, et al., see Roberson 2010, 189, nn. 52–63, with additional references. However, against this orthographically plausible suggestion, I note that, as a narrative particle, sw marks its clause as the next event in a sequence. Thus if we understand the particle here, then the jackals would first haul the barque to the sky and then (sw) stand in the Horizon of the West and Heliopolis, thereby reversing the logical sequence of events; because the sun god only rises into the sky after the chthonic episodes in the West, a sḏm.n=f in a clause of prior circumstance, as suggested above, fits better with the temporal sense of the passage. 71 A similar translation, without discussion of orthography, appears in Betrò (forthcoming), who renders the group literally, as “sciacalli” (i.e., jackals). For the anthropomorphic determinative, compare CT VI, 272b: sɜb =f pw wn n=j wɜ.t, “O Jackal-man of his, open a path for me [i.e. the deceased].”

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nation appears to refer collectively to the deceased dwelling in the previously named localities of Heliopolis and the Western Horizon,72 as opposed to the similarly jackal-like haulers, who traverse those regions with the solar barque. Both the “(jackal) haulers” and the “jackal-folk” belong to the general semantic class of “[jackal-headed] bas” mentioned in the beginning of rows 1/1.73 L. Drioton rendered as m-ẖnw, assigning the value ẖ to the reed leaf by class substitution with the ḫɜ-plant and phonetic interchange of ḫ and ẖ.74 That derivation is not overly problematic75 and the prepositional phrase makes reasonable sense in the context of the passage. However, the present reading, as m J(w)nw, “from Heliopolis,” provides a much simpler solution, with a conventional orthography attested in non-cryptic sources since the Middle Kingdom,76 and which also parallels the description of the bas as “ones who travelled … the horizon of the West and Heliopolis” (G↑ and n. 52).

§ 2. Cols. 3–5 / 3–4 RVIa

RVIb ḫprw=sn pw sɜb [A] jmnt.tj [B] Their manifestation is (the image of) a western jackal.

A. Drioton interprets the jackal atop a standard as š(ɜ), “country,” by acrophony from šɜs, “travel,” which he identifies as an attribute of Ophois (i.e. Wepwa72 For the deceased as a sɜb-jackal generally, see Leitz 2002–2003, vol. 6, 142–143, B; for the plural, see ibid., 144, C; also cf. CT VI, 299n–p, in which the deceased is described as sɜb km, a “black jackal,” who opens the Horizon of the West, discussed below (§ 5, C, n. 118). Compare also the jackal-headed, human-armed birds, which greet the solar boat, again towed by a team of jackals, as depicted in the Ptolemaic temple of Edfu (DuQuesne 1990, 3, n. 5, and fig. 2). 73 See DuQuesne 1990, 6–9, for various classes of inter-related beings with the aspect of a jackal, including the bas of the west, the bas of Rosetjau (the “gate of sṯɜ-dragging”), and the bas of Nekhen (Hierakonpolis). 74 Drioton 1942, 90, 105. 75 Thus, Darnell 2004, 68c and n. 145. However, note that, although ḫ and ẖ do interchange in cryptic texts, only the former value is attested for the reed leaf in other compositions (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. M17, ḫ). 76 Wb I, 54; the present spelling is particularly well attested in the Coffin Texts, for which see Van der Molen 2000, 24–25.

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wet), “le Rôdeur.” 77 It is difficult to fathom why such a tortuous solution is preferable to reading the jackal-and-standard as Wepwawet himself,78 which divine name we might read literally here, as a cryptic rebus: wp(.w) wɜ.wt, “which open the paths,” modifying ḫprw=sn in an A pw nominal construction, “These are their transformations, which open the paths of the Westerner” (B↓). However, perhaps the most straightforward solution is to read the jackal-standard as yet another iteration of sɜb, “jackal,” yielding an A pw B nominal sentence,79 in reference either to an actual cult image or to the vignette itself as the physical, i.e. written (thus, § 5), expression of the [jackal-headed] bas / “westerners,” described previously (§ 1).80 B. If we read the preceding sign as wp(.w) wɜ.wt, “which open the paths,” then the group could represent jmnt.t, the “West,” calling to mind the “paths of the West” attested, with variations, in other Underworld compositions.81 However, other examples of jmnt.t from the present text do not write the ending and include a “hill-country” determinative, or its cryptic equivalent (§ 1, F and L, end of column). It is possible that a feminine nisbe adjective was intended, i.e. wɜ.wt, jmn.tt, “western paths,” but the dual strokes in such a case would still have to be regarded as otiose, influenced perhaps by the masculine nisbe form. Thus, the most likely reading in this case appears to be jmnt.tj, translating either as the paths of the “Westerner” or as a “western” jackal, depending on the interpretation of the preceding sign (A↑). The former epithet occurs in reference to Osiris in the Book of the Earth82 and as one of the many ḫprw-transfor77 Drioton 1942, 107. 78 The name is attested with the jackal-and-standard as a determinative since the First Dynasty, with ideographic spellings attested already from the First Intermediate Period (DuQuesne 2005, 81, § 89); the reading here would have been reinforced by the association of Wepwawet with the towing of the solar barque, attested from the Pyramid Texts through the Greco-Roman era (see idem 1990, 3, n. 5, and 9–10). Also cf. Betrò forthcoming, n. 12, who reads this sign as wp-wɜ.wt, but assigns to it the improbable value w, “district,” by acrophony. 79 With thanks to David Klotz. 80 For ḫprw as the “(physical) manifestation,” of a god, compare a cryptic gloss from the Book of the Day, discussed in Darnell 2004, 178–179: ḫɜ.wt=sn pw ẖr ḫpr.w(=w), “It means: Their bodies bear (their) manifestations”; and see Von Lieven 2004, 160–162, for discussion of the canids Anubis and Wepwawet as (pw) manifestations (ḫprw) standing for (ᶜḥᶜ) the jackals of the solar barque. Note that the plural strokes in the present case must be regarded as an indication of the collective, i.e. grammatically singular, in agreement with sɜb jmnt.tj, for which compare, e.g., ḫprw=f tpj, “his first manifestation” (Wb III, 266.6). 81 In the Amduat, the usual formulation is wɜ.t štɜ.t n.t jmnt.t, “secret way of the West” (Hornung 1987–1994, 53, 65–66, 460, 527); likewise, the Book of the Earth of Ramesses IX mentions wɜw.t štɜy(.t) jmj.w(t) jmnt.t, “secret path(s), which are in the West” (Roberson 2012, 396–397). Perhaps the best parallel is to be found on the late sarcophagus of Tjahorpta (CG 29306), which mentions the wɜw.t jmnt.t, “paths of the West / western paths,” along which the personified hours of the night lead the sun god (ibid., 442–443; Manassa 2007, 399 and pl. 285). 82 Roberson 2012, 170 (scene 13, 1), n. 286; ibid., 191–192 (scene 21, 1); ibid., 357–359 (text 45, 1 ff.); ibid., 400–403 (text 12, 1).

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mations of the sun god, identified with the justified deceased, in the Litany of Re.83 The concept of “opening paths” on behalf of the Westerner occurs already in the Pyramid Texts.84 The interpretation followed above resumes and concludes the description of the [jackal-headed] bas from row 1 as “westerners,” etc.

§ 3. Cols. 5–9/4–8 RVIa

RVIb Rbw rn=f [A] tɜ=sn [B] pw nṯr ᶜɜ [C] jmn.tj [D] ḥr jb wɜḏ-wr jmn.tj ḫntj rḫy.t [E] Rbw [F] r ḏrw.w n.w [G] tɜ Rebu (Libya) is its name: It is their land, the Great God, the Westerner, being in the midst of the western sea,85 which is before the people Rebu, at the ends of the Earth.

A. Drioton interpreted this group as an AB nominal sentence functioning as an unmarked relative clause.86 However, given the problems with his analysis of preceding groups (§ 2), this otherwise plausible solution appears less likely.

83 Hornung 1975–1976, vol. 2, 77, n. 291; Leitz 2002–2003, 359 (including similar spellings of the nisbe with doubled t, NK–GR). 84 PT 304, §§ 468–471, which describe a path opened on behalf of the deceased, who is identified subsequently as jmn.tj wᶜb, a “pure westerner.” 85 For the use of clauses of circumstance after nominal predicates, including A pw, in the Underworld Books, see Baumann 1995, 109–111, with additional references. 86 Drioton 1942, 90.

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Rather, I believe that Njw rn=f anticipates the following A pw nominal sentence, in parallel to the construction employed in the first row (§ 1) and possibly also the final row (§§ 9–10), where the construction immediately preceding the A pw sentence has been lost. A similar grammatical sequence occurs also in the Book has been interpreted in various ways.88 However, of the Day.87 The group the probable occurrence of a cryptic parallel, previously unrecognized (F↓), argues in favor of either a conventional reading as Njw (thus, Drioton) or a cryptic value as Rbw, “Libya” (thus, Darnell). The over-arching “western” theme of the Jackal Hymn reinforces the latter value, followed here. B. RVIa substitutes the p.t-hieroglyph for the similarly shaped (low/flat) sign that writes tɜ.89 Note that the cryptic hieroglyph in this case has also acquired the three sand grains employed in the conventional orthography of tɜ,90 as found in the parallel text. as jn(r).ty ᶜɜ.ty, “the two great stones,” as a supposed referC. Drioton reads 91 ence to Gebelein. He assigns the value jn(r).ty to the nṯr-fetish, by a remarkably convoluted process of phonetic change and arbitrary re-ordering of consonants: nṯr > ntj, with final r weakening to j, the former consonant being reinserted into the middle of the word and the latter being transposed to the front (or supplied as weak). It is true that the reduced spelling ntj, “god,” is attested and r and j are known to interchange in cryptic as well as non-cryptic contexts.

87 Müller-Roth 2008, 155–156: bntj.w rn.w=sn njw.t=sn pw Pwn.t, “Baboons are their names. Their locality is Punt,” etc. 88 Drioton 1942, 90, translated the group, without comment, as “Niou.” A name Njw is attested since the Pyramid Texts, as a variant of Nw, the personified primordial waters (Leitz 2002–2003, vol. 3, 519–20). Of course, the hill-country determinative in the present instance argues against that association here. Darnell 2004, 9, n. 39, suggested a cryptic interpretation, as Rbw, “Libya” (n > r by hieratic similarity; j > b by class interchange with the herb-hieroglyph, M2), which Müller-Roth 2008, 491–492, accepted later on the strength of its association with the west. More recently, Betrò, forthcoming, n. 13, has acknowledged the geographical rationale for reading “Libya” but has also questioned Darnell’s derivation of the values, prompting her to read the same group at face value, as n jw, “of the island” (ibid.). Unfortunately, that interpretation rests upon Betrò’s reading of the preceding jackal standard (see above, § 2, A, n. 78) as w, “territory,” by acrophony, as well as the unexpected use of the hill-country sign as a determinative for “island.” Finally, David Klotz (personal communication) has suggested that the entire group might constitute a unity, i.e. Njw-rn=f, “Itsname-is-Niu,” citing the toponym Njw.t-rn=f, discussed in ibid. 2010, 140, b, and n. 82. 89 Probably conceived also as a class substitution of sky/earth/water signs; compare use of the p.t-hieroglyph for n, as a class substitution for the low/flat water sign in the Awakening of Osiris (Roberson 2013, 68–69f ); compare also the strip of land employed as a writing of p.t, from that same composition (ibid., 101–02d). 90 Also compare the use of single space-filler dots, wavy lines, etc., in Hieratic versions of the p.tsign (Möller 1927, vol. 2, 27, nr. 800). 91 Drioton 1942, 90, cryptogram Nº 81, and n. 2.

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However, the fact that a consonant such as r might become weak and therefore omissible at the end of a word does not imply that it can be added arbitrarily to the middle. Drioton’s ad hoc proposal appears even more perplexing when we consider the ubiquity of the noun phrase nṯr ᶜɜ, written in conventional fashion, as it is here. D. Drioton reads the two ḫɜs.t-mountains as the feminine dual ending (following ᶜɜ), substituting for the ḏw-mountains, which reduce to ḏ by consonantal principle and become t through the interchange of dentals.92 However, given the problems inherent in his reading of the preceding group (C↑), this otherwise plausible suggestion may be discarded. I instead read the two hill-county signs as jmn.tj, a logographic spelling employing the usual determinative for jmn(t).t, “west,” 93 written twice as a false dual, for the nisbe. This reading is reinforced by the overall “western” theme of the present text, for which see §§ 1, 2, and 6. A conventional spelling of the same word occurs in the column immediately following (thus, also § 2, B), as a “crib” aiding decipherment. Alternately, we might also interpret the signs at face value, reading ḫɜs.tj, “he of the desert; desert-dweller,” comparable to ḫɜs.wt, from row 1 (§ 1, E). Although such a reading might appear unusual as a description of the sun god in the western sea (E↓), it does evoke aptly the liminal, desert locality of Rebu/Libya. E. Drioton reads the crocodile as š(ɜ) by acrophony from a Greco-Roman epithet šnṯj, the “quarrelling (crocodile).” 94 Darnell debunked this explanation and supplied a more plausible derivation for š by consonantal principle.95 However, any reading as š only makes sense in the context of the passage as Drioton originally understood it. The most obvious objection is that Drioton translates š(ɜ) as “le pays,” when it means primarily “marshland” or “grassland,” 96 rather than “land,” more generally. The present region has already been described unambiguously as tɜ=sn, “their land” (B↑) and subsequent constructions name it also as a njw.t, “city; locality” (§ 4, A; § 9, B), which term occurs elsewhere in opposition to š(ɜ), “grasslands.” 97 Thus, I understand the crocodile as a prepositional nisbe ḫntj, by rebus, from a Middle Kingdom word for “crocodile.” 98 Many similar spellings of this nisbe occur in the Amduat.99 In

92 Both the class substitution and phonetic change occur with the mountain signs, albeit not otherwise in conjunction (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. N25, ḏw (Caverns, Solar-Osirian Unity), and N26, d/t (Caverns, Gates)). 93 Wb I, 86–87; from the present text, see § 1, B, L (end), and § 6, A. 94 Drioton 1942, 91, 108, no. 82; for the term in question, see Wb IV, 520.6, and Wilson 1997, 1024. 95 Darnell 2004, 30, n. 77. 96 Wb IV, 399.7–11. 97 Wb IV, 400.2 98 Wb III, 308.4. 99 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. I3, ḫntj.

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the present context, ḫntj rḫy.t describes the location of the “western sea,” 100 relative to the “people of Rebu” (F↓).101 Interpreted at face value, the group appears to read jw.jw, resembling a nisbe construction, to be read perhaps as “islanders.” However, context does not recommend this interpretation. Drioton read the group as nty.w, which he interpreted as a plural relative adjective modifying rḫy.t.102 However, the expected form of the relative adjective following a feminine collective would be nt.t.103 I as a cryptic believe that the most contextually plausible solution is to read , Rbw (see A↑), in which the first jw-island substitutes for the rvariant of mouth, by similarity of shape and phonetic change, while the second substitutes for b, as attested also in the Book of Caverns,104 with the tongue of land and stroke replacing the plaintext hill-country determinative. It is interesting to note that the same group might also suggest the cryptic value Njw, in which the first island replaces the n-water hieroglyph,105 while the second island, plus determinatives, retains its conventional value, employed as rebus.106 Whichever interpretation of the toponym is followed, the previously unrecognized parallel-

100 Lit., the “Great Green,” either as a general term for “sea” or associated specifically with the terrestrial Mediterranean and Red Sea (Wb I, 269.12–17); also cf. Vandersleyen 1999, 84–85 and passim, for an alternative interpretation of wɜḏ-wr as the fertile floodplain formed where the Nile meets the land; for the location of wɜḏ-wr, see ibid., 75 (omitting the present example; thus, also at ibid., 368–369), noting that the terrestrial locality was said to lie between the Fayyum on the west and Heliopolis on the east, while its mythical counterpart was said to begin at Kheraha, between Heliopolis and the Nile. As a point at the limits of the cosmos, wɜḏ-wr was associated most often with cardinal north (ibid., 66–72, 75; compare thus, the domain of Horus from Hibis temple, in Klotz 2014, 206); the reference here to a “western” wɜḏ-wr (echoing the association of Heliopolis with the western horizon, § 1, F–G, L) contrasts explicitly with the “northern” wɜḏ-wr (wɜḏ-wr mḥ.tj) mentioned in the parallel text from the Book of the Day (Drioton 1942, 97; Müller-Roth 2008, 293–294). 101 Compare the epithet ḫntj-rḫy.t, “Foremost of People,” which occurs in a New Kingdom stela of Ramesses II from Heliopolis, qualifying Horus (Leitz 2002–2003, vol. 5, 826; Kitchen 1979, 360, 13). In that text, Re-Horakhty praises the living king as “a king who seizes the Two Lands like Horus, Foremost of People.” 102 Drioton 1942, 91. 103 One might still derive the value nt.t from the signs as written, understanding the first island as nt (thus, Drioton 1942, 104) and the second group as a class substitution for tɜ > t, via consonantal principle. 104 For the phonetic and graphic interchange jw ~ r, see Junge 2001, 38, § 2; for the island as a writing of b (ideogram and consonantal reduction from bjɜ, Wb I, 439.6–8), see Darnell 2004, 256– 257. 105 I.e., through interchange with the similarly shaped š-pool, with its attested cryptic value n (see Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. N37, j, jw, n). In point of fact, both versions of the sign in question might actually be the š-pool; the painted hieroglyphs show only a solid-colored, low, horizontal sign, which might represent either a rectangle or a rectangular oval (see Piankoff 1954, pl. 150). 106 Wb I, 47.6–11; cf. also § 5, A, where the same group occurs as a cryptic rebus for the particle jw.

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ism between and underscores the implausibility of Drioton’s assignation of the value nty.w to the former group. G. The value ḏrw , “limit, end,” derives by rebus from a logographic spelling of ḏr.t, “falcon,” in which the feminine ending t has weakened to w.107

§ 4. Cols. 9–11/7–9 RVIa

RVIb

rn.w=sn njw.t=sn pw [A] These are their names of their locality.

A. The “locality” 108 of the aforementioned “people of Rebu at the Ends of the Earth” (§ 3, F–G) would appear to represent the final place of habitation encountered during the sun god’s nocturnal journey, prior to his emergence into the day-time sky, as described in the concluding rows (§§ 9–10).109 Within the context of the Duat, and from the perspective of the area’s inhabitants, this would correspond to a location at the limit of their western horizon (§ 1, § 6),110 as indicated also by its spatial proximity to the “western sea” (§ 3). However, from the perspective of the living, this location, within the twelfth hour of the Book of the Night, would lie just inside/behind our eastern horizon, where the diur-

107 Drioton 1942, 103, Nº 84; also see Wb V, 596.2–8, noting the Coptic realizations ⲦⲢⲈ and ⲐⲢⲈ. The island sign at the beginning of RVIb, col. 7, either supplies a –w phonetic complement to ḏrw.w, by consonantal principle from jw (Darnell 2004, 54), or else, more likely, supplies an initial n– phonetic complement for n.w, by similarity of shape and class with N35, as in F↑. 108 Literally, “city.” For the more general sense of “locality,” see Wb II, 211.15–17; and Hornung 1963, vol. 2, 18, 3, who notes that njw.t in the Amduat refers to areas or localities within a particular hour of the night, equated sometimes with sḫ.t, “field” and qrr.t, “cavern,” while in the Book of the Dead the same term might refer to localities within the Underworld, as well as to the Underworld itself; see thus Müller-Roth 2008, 157, 2, with regard to the Book of the Day. 109 Betrò forthcoming, has proposed recently that the “ends of the earth” might represent a cosmological analog to the terrestrial Straits of Gibraltar, the so-called “Pillars of Hercules,” at the limit of created world, delimited by the bas of the cardinal directions. 110 I.e., the ɜḫ.t dwɜ.t, “horizon of the Duat,” named as such in the twelfth hour of the Amduat, variant text from the Persian-era sarcophagus of Tjahorpta (Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 368), and depicted as a great semi-circular barrier separating the chthonic realm from the visible sky (for iconography and function of this liminal region, see Hornung 1981).

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nal solar journey begins. This apparent reversal of directionality is but one aspect of the reversals that occur during the sun’s transit across the liminal boundaries of Underworld. In the Book of the Solar-Osirian Unity, this process is described as a physical inversion upon entry into the Duat.111 In the Amduat, the sun’s egress into the day-time sky is made possible by a reversal of time itself.112 These descriptions convey the fundamental relativity of time and space in Egyptian cosmology: East is east because the sun goes forth from there, while west is west because that is where the god enters into.

§ 5. Cols. 11–14 / 9–12 RVIa

RVIb

jw=j [A] rḫ.kw sn [B] ḏr.ty wjɜ nṯr [C] m qd pn ntj m sš jw=w [D] m bɜ.w ᶜnḫ.w wp.w kkw-smɜw r Rᶜ [E] I know them, (namely) the two kites of the god’s barque, in this form, which is in writing: They are the living bas, who separate the primordial darkness from Re,

111 Darnell 2004, 426–448. 112 See Hornung 1963, 188, 1–8.

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A. The strip of land, plus determinatives, writes the particle jw by rebus from jw, “island.” 113 The use of the cryptic particle + non-cryptic suffix =j may be contrasted with D↓, where the particle is written conventionally, while the following suffix (=w) employs a cryptic orthography. B. In RVIb, the spelling of the third person, plural object pronoun betrays the influence of contemporary Late Egyptian, substituting st for sn (cf. D↓). The assertion of knowledge, utilizing the first person, subject-stative construction as a sort of cosmological passport, can be traced back to the Coffin Texts.114 C. Direct representation of two kites,115 followed by the nṯr-fetish inside a wjɜbarque. The description of these figures as depicted “in writing” refers explicitly to the accompanying vignette,116 in which the day- and night-barques rest, prow-to-prow, with two kites perched atop papyrus stalks in the center of each craft.117 It is also possible that the kites mentioned here might relate more obliquely to the jackal-theme of the text, insofar as those two animals could be be equated, as identities of the deceased, already in the Coffin Texts: “This N. is a black jackal, he being a kite of the jackal-post … he will open you (sic), O western horizon.” 118 In the present context, by contrast, the kites are said to open/ separate the primordial darkness (E↓) and to rest in the western horizon (§ 6). D. The third person plural suffix pronoun appears as Late Egyptian =w,119 in place of Middle Egyptian =sn (see also § 7, C, and § 9, B). The vulture supplies the former value, substituting for the quail chick, through the widely attested interchange of bird signs.120 The avian aspect of “the bas of the Living,” equated

113 Drioton 1942, 103, § 6. 114 Thus, e.g., CT V, 223d/i: jw=j rḫ=kw ṯn … jw=j rḫ=kw rn.w=sn, “I know you … I know your names.” For textual and iconographic expressions of knowledge in the Coffin Texts, Book of the Dead, et al., see generally Robinson 2003; and Quirke 2003; for the New Kingdom Underworld Book corpus, see Barta 1990, 90–91; and Manassa 2013, 53–55. Also compare the phrase rḫ-ḫ.t, “knower of things,” as a technical term the literate priests of the House of Life (Ritner 2008, 229–232). 115 I.e., Isis and Nephthys (thus, e.g., CT I, 74e–f B6C: jw ḥɜ n=k ḏr.ty ɜs.t pw ḥnᶜ Nb.t-ḥw.t, “The two kites, namely Isis and Nephthys, mourn for you”; for discussion of the passage, which is expressed quite differently in other versions, see Stauder 2014, 199–202; for additional occurrences of the two kites in the CT, see Van Der Molen 2000, 845–846; for the two kites as companions of the nocturnal sun god, see also Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 386. 116 Compare a speech of the deceased from the Book of the Day, in which the deceased claims to “know them (i.e. the figures depicted in the vignette) as mdw.w-nṯr,” i.e. as hieroglyphs (MüllerRoth 2008, 128–129, 14; and Drioton 1942, 86 and n. 3, with the intriguing suggestion that the “hieroglyphs” in this case refer to knowledge of the cryptographic and normal scripts employed therein). 117 In Hall E, the kites, etc., appear above the cryptic text (Piankoff 1954, pl. 150); in the sarcophagus hall, the relevant image appears directly in front of the cryptic annotation and towing jackals (Piankoff 1954, pl. 196), for which see additional discussion below, at § 10, D, at nn. 211–214. 118 CT VI, 299n, p: N pn sɜb km m ḏr wsr.t … wbɜ=f ṯn (sic) ɜḫ.t jmnt.t. 119 For the distribution of the younger suffix =w, which occurs with increasing frequency over the course of the Ramesside period, see Winand 1995, 193–195 (also see comments at n. 2, above). 120 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. G1, w.

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here with the two kites,121 stands in obvious contrast to the “[jackal-headed] bas” mentioned in the opening lines of the text (§ 1). The introduction of these new players coincides with a grammatical shift from nominal sentences (§§ 1– 4) to stative, adverbial, and verbal constructions (§§ 5–7) and a narrative shift, as the sun god and his entourage rest before departing the western land of Rebu, in anticipation of his re-emergence from the eastern horizon. E. Drioton supplies two divergent and highly improbable interpretations for the as ᶜp(.w) kkw m ẖnw, “who enter the darkness parallel texts, reading , which he reads as inside,” the western horizon, as opposed to ᶜp=sn m ᶜry.t n, “they enter into the gate of,” the western horizon. According to Drioton’s interpretation, the aleph-vulture represents ayin / ᶜ, by acrophony , from ᶜḫm.122 In support of this reading, he cites a cryptic group followed by the from the tomb of Ramesses VI, which he interprets as , without additional comment.123 However, those groups, which apgloss , pear in the sixth division of the Book of Caverns, actually represent ᶜɜ, “great.” 124 In neither word does ḥfɜw, “snake,” followed by the adjective the vulture correspond to Drioton’s hypothetical ayin. The present reading, as w, is well attested in the broader cryptic corpus, including the former example from the Book of Caverns, and also appears unambiguously in cols. 13/10 from the present text (D↑). The following sky sign writes p(w) by rebus and phonetic change from p.t, as discussed above (§ 1, D). The resulting construction wp.w kkw (smɜw), “who separate the (primordial) darkness” from Re, finds parallels in other Underworld compositions.125 In both of the present texts, kkw, “darkness,”

121 Leitz 2003–2003, vol. 2, 718–719 [1], with additional references; as a possible writing of the dual, i.e. bɜ.wj ᶜnḫ.wj, cf. the spelling from Sarcophagus Vienna ÄS 6263 (thus, ibid., [6], Third Intermediate Period). 122 Drioton 1942, 108, translated incorrectly as “celui qui plane” (cf. Wb I, 225.2: “fliegen”). Note that the vulture does occur in Ptolemaic Egyptian with the value ᶜ, although this is a result of phonetic change, not acrophony (Fairman 1945, 69). 123 Drioton 1942, 108, n. 3. The initial serpent, recorded in Champollion 1790–1832, vol. 2, 543, is now destroyed; see Piankoff 1945, pl. 151, 45. 124 Werning 2011, vol. 2, 432. 125 Compare, e.g., from from the Book of the Earth of Ramesses VI: ḥḏ=sn m sɜɜ=sn sw wpw nn n nṯr.w m kkwj, “it is through their guarding him that they become bright, after these gods have been separated from darkness” (Roberson 2012, 361–362, translating wpw, as “judged”); also compare, from the twelfth hour of the Amduat: ḥtp=f ḥr-tp sšm štɜ n Šw wpp p.t r tɜ r kkw-smɜw, “He rests upon the secret image of Shu, who separates the sky from the land and from the uniform darkness” (AMD, 818; also cf. Persian variant in Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 367–368). Also compare the nearly homophonous root wbɜ, “opening” (a plausible alternate value for , by phonetic change), which occurs, e.g., in the fifth hour of the Book of Gates: j(w) ɜḫ Rᶜ wbɜ=f kkw-smɜw, “Re becomes luminous, when he opens the uniform darkness” (Hornung 1979–1980, vol. 1, 197; reading after Manassa 2006, 132; idem, 2007, vol. 1, 115); and Book of the Earth (see citations at n. 129, below); also see Dorman 1999, 84, 88–90, for wbɜ with the sense of “activating” or “spinning” the potter’s wheel, as a metaphor for solar rebirth. In the Underworld Book corpus, wpj occurs nearly twice as often

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is written logographically. The participial adjective smɜw, lit. “unified,” 126 only appears in RVIb, where substitutes for the similarly shaped smɜ-hieroglyph, .127 Drioton read the former sign sign as n (in the suffix =sn), being a pars pro toto substitution for , n(w).128 Although the substitution itself presents no difficulties, Drioton’s solution remains improbable, as it results in the divergent constructions discussed above. By contrast, the present solution yields a plural participle in both texts, which diverge only in their realization of the direct object as either kkw, “darkness,” or kkw-smɜw, “primordial darkness.” 129 The , Drioton reads at face value as m. However, the groups, following sign, and he interprets as ẖnw and ᶜry.t n, respectively. As usual, some his signs values require improbable derivation via acrophony.130 More importantly, Drioton’s interpretation of these two, well attested textual variants of the divine name Rᶜ as unrelated words appears unbelievably naïve, considering that he reads two identically written groups with their conventional values, in the section immediately following (§ 6).131 The present study interprets both groups , supplies the conventionally, as variant spellings of Rᶜ. The preceding sign, expected preposition r,132 substituting one low, flat sign for another.133

as wbɜ (Barta 1990, 124, citing 22 occurrences of the former in the books of Amduat, Gates, and Caverns, verses twelve of the latter in the Amduat, Gates, Caverns, and Earth), which frequency has informed the present reading. 126 I.e. “uniform; unbroken (by sunlight).” The translation as “primordial” darkness follows Hornung 1963, vol. 2, 7–8, and idem 1975, col. 1153 (“Urfinsternis,” in parallel to Nun, the “primordial waters”); thus also, with regard to Book of the Night, Roulin 1996, 28d and n. 125; for the relationship of the primordial/uniform darkness to the primordial waters and creation generally, see Allen 1988, 1–6; for more recent discussion of the mythological connotations of the kkw-smɜw, see also Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 62. 127 This value is unique but compare, for instance, the shape substitution < , for ᶜɜ, attested in the Book of the Day (Müller-Roth 2008, 459). 128 Drioton 1942, 91, n. 2. 129 For the occasional equivalence of kkw and kkw-smɜw, compare a cryptographic text from the fifth hour of the Book of Gates (Hornung 1979–1980, vol. 1, 197, RVI; Manassa 2006, Text N); also compare the Book of the Earth of Ramesses IX: ḥr(j.t) st.t m p(ɜ)-n-štɜy sḥḏ=s kkw jmj.w ᶜ.wj=s wbɜ=s kkw smɜw wɜ.tj, “(She) who presides over the ray in Penshetay, illuminating the darkness that is in her arms, when she opens the utter darkness of the Two Ways” (Roberson 2012, 183, 5c); and wnn nṯr.w m kkwj-smɜw=sn j(w) nɜ (n) bɜ.w=sn wbɜ kkwj=sn m-ḫt, “It is in their utter darkness that the gods shall exist. These bas of theirs open their darkness afterwards.” (ibid., 403, text 13, 7–10); also compare two parallel texts in ibid., 518, pl. 8, 1–2: ᶜq(=w) m kkw=sn, “they having already entered their darkness” (Ramesses VI. Dyn. 20) vs. ᶜq=sn m kkw-smɜw “when they enter into the unified darkness” (Tjahorpta, Dyn. 30). 130 Thus, Drioton 1942, 91, 104, Nº 92: acrophony from n(ṯr). 131 Drioton 1942, 92, 13/15. 132 Wb I, 298.15–16: wpj A … r B, “to separate A … from B.” 133 In addition to the general similarity of shape, it is also possible that was intended to evoke a mouth in profile, for which compare as writing of p, for the spewing mouth (Darnell 2004, 43, n. 31).

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§ 6. Cols. 14–18 / 12–15 RVIa

RVIb

ɜḫ.t jmnt.t ḥnᶜ [A] Rᶜ rᶜ-nb nṯr ḥtp.w [B] r jwt=sn [C] ḥtp=sn (j)m wnn sn.ty [D] pw the western horizon being with Re every day,134 after the god has rested, in order that they (too) might come and rest there. That is how the two sisters exist perpetually.

A. RVIa employs a transparent, semi-cryptic orthography for the preposition ḥnᶜ, which incorporates a variant of the twisted flax-hieroglyph, with two loops instead of three,135 and the red crown for n. RVIb exhibits a rare error of metathesis, reversing the expected order of and . B. Drioton reads the seated divine figure as the negative particle n, by acrophony from nṯr, translating “Ils ne se reposent pas.” 136 Against this value, I view the

134 For ḥnᶜ Rᶜ rᶜ-nb, “together with Re every day,” compare Louvre sarcophagus D9: jw Wsjr N. rḫ wɜ.t ḏsr n Rɜ-sṯɜw m wnn=f ḥnᶜ Rᶜ rᶜ nb, “Osiris N. knows the sacred roads of Rosetau, according as he exists with Re every day” (Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 101–102); probably also thus, P. Louvre 3276: jmn ḫnt qrr.t pr nṯr ᶜɜ jm=f wnn=f ḥnᶜ=k rᶜ nb, “He who hides before the cavern, when the Great God emerges from it: Every day, he shall be together with you (i.e., the sun god)” (Roberson 2012, 405, 1text 2, 1–3). For rᶜ nb, as an iterative, as opposed to momentary or durative, time marker, see Roccati 1986, 290–92. 135 This orthography also appears frequently in non-cryptic texts from the same tomb (e.g., Roberson 2012, 321, Text 8, 4; 322, Text 9, 2; 330, Text 21, 5; 331, Text 23, 3, 17; 332, Text 24, 10, and passim; Roulin, vol. 2, 23, 4; 25, 3; 29, 4; 31, 4; 37, 4; 49, 3; 75, 2; 76, 2, and passim). 136 Drioton 1942, 92 and 104, § 7.

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sign as the well attested cryptic logogram for nṯr itself,137 at the head of a subject-stative construction in a clause of circumstance. This interpretation coincides well with numerous descriptions of Re “setting” in the evening and/ or “resting” at various locales in the solar journey.138 The stative ḥtp.w writes the initial ḥ with the herb-hieroglyph, as a class substitution for the ḥɜplant,139 which becomes ḥ via the consonantal principle.140 Note that RVIa also exhibits metathesis (ḥ-nṯr-p-w-t). However, this peculiarity does not appear to convey any additional level of meaning and should probably be regarded as scribal error, corrected in RVIb, as throughout the present text. C. I follow Drioton in his interpretation of the walking legs as a logographic writing of the verb jw, “to come.” 141 However, the form of the verb following the preposition r in a clause of purpose would be either the infinitive or subjunctive.142 In either case, jwt would be the expected form.143 Consequently, it would appear preferable to read the following vulture sign as the ending -t,144 as opposed to Drioton’s otherwise plausible reading as a phonetic complement -w. Given that the verb of motion jwt is followed in this case by the suffix pronoun = sn, the subjunctive represents the most plausible interpretation. The present translation also renders the following verb, ḥtp=sn, as a subjunctive,145 gov-

137 See Drioton 1936, 2a; idem 1942, 102; Darnell 2004, 186; Manassa 2004, 589; and Diego Espinel 2010, 330. 138 E.g., from sixth division of the Book of Caverns: ḥtp Rᶜ m ḏw jmnt.t … psd=f m ḏw jɜb.t, “Just as Re sets in the mountain of the west … he shines forth from the mountain of the east” (Piankoff 1944, pl. 62; Werning 2011, vol. 2, 236–237, 16–18); likewise, from the Litany of Re: Rᶜ pw ḥtp m Wsjr ṯs pẖr, “He is Re, who sets/rests in Osiris, and vice-versa” (Hornung 1975–1976, vol. 1, 178; ibid., vol. 2, 53–54, 83, and 137–138); Book of the Earth: nṯr pn m sḫr pn ḥr psd jɜkr štɜy ḥtp(.w) m wjɜ=f, “This god in this form upon the back of Mysterious Aker, where he rests in his barque” (Roberson 2012, 354–355, text 43, 1–2); et al. Note also that the royal burial chamber was described in similar terms, as pr n nbw ntj ḥtp=tw jm=f, “the House of Gold in which one rests” (Černý 1973, 29–30). 139 Class + shape substitution: plants with three stalks. Examples of this interchange occur in the Book of Caverns, Book of the Solar-Osirian Unity, and Awakening of Osiris (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. M2, ḥɜ). 140 Contra Drioton 1942, 99, who derives the same value by acrophony, from ḥn. The herb and flowering plant occur in parallel, as spellings of ḥ, in the Book of Caverns (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. M2, ḥ, and M16, ḥ). 141 Drioton 1942, 92. It is also possible that the preceding sign, r, conveys the phonetic value jw, as in Late Egyptian (Junge 2001, 38, 2) with the walking legs supplying only the determinative. The resulting construction – a bare subjunctive in a clause of purpose – would not alter the present translation. 142 Baumann 1998, 203–202, with regard to the Underworld Book corpus; for r + subjunctive, see Malaise and Winand 1999, § 955. 143 Baumann 1998, 188, citing examples of prospective/subjunctive jwt from the Amduat, Book of Gates, and Book of Caverns. 144 Class substitution for the tjw-buzzard, reduced to t via the consonantal principal, as attested also in the Book of the Solar Osirian Unity (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. G1, t). 145 For the description of bas as “resting” with the sun god, compare the fourteenth address from a litany in the tomb of Ramesses IX: j hy ᶜp.n=j dɜ.t swɜš=j bɜ.w ḥtp.w, “ Oho! I [i.e., the sun god,

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erned likewise by the preposition r. This solution is preferable to that of Drioton, who translates ḥtp=sn as an independent, present tense clause,146 in which case we should expect either an introductory particle or a topicalized subject.147 D. The variant of the sn-arrow employed in both versions is characteristic of texts from Dynasty 18 and later.148 The nw-pot in RVIa substitutes by shape for the circle in RVIb, the latter being well attested as a cryptic writing of t.149 “Two sisters” is a common epithet of paired goddesses, above all Isis and Nephthys,150 and surely refers here to the “two kites” introduced in the preceding section (§ 5, C, n. 115). The construction employed at the end of the section here is an A pw nominal sentence (cf. §§ 1–4), in which the A-member is the nominal form of the verb, with nominal subject, functioning as an explanatory gloss.151 The verb wnn, “exist,” occurs here exceptionally, without a following stative or adverbial adjunct.152 The use of an existential statement as a gloss in this

Re] have traversed the Dat, so that I might honor the resting bas” (Roberson 2012, 402, 14); and the twenty-third address from that same text: j hy ᶜp.n=j dɜ.t jmj.w-ḫt=j ḥtp=sn ḫtw=j, “Oho! I have traversed the Dat, even while my followers were resting behind me” (ibid., 403, 23). Similar statements occur, e.g., in the ninth hour of the Amduat: ḥtp p(ɜ) n nṯr ᶜɜ m ẖnj.w=f r njw.t tn jz.t=f ḥtp=s m wjɜ=f, “That which belongs to the god (i.e. the solar barque) rests with his rowers at this very place and his crew rests in his barque” (Hornung 1987–1994, vol. 3, 668). 146 Drioton 1942, 92: “ils se reposent.” 147 For rare use of the circumstantial (imperfective) sḏm=f as a “synchronous present tense” in the Underworld Books, see Baumann 1998, 126–126. 148 Gardiner 1994, 514 (T23). 149 Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. D12, t (whole for part, replacing the half-circle bread loaf); this same value occurs also in § 10, D↓. Also note that the nw-pot, employed for t in RVIa, occurs likewise in the Book of the Day (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. W24). 150 Wb IV, 151.14–15; Leitz 2002–2003, vol. 6, 375–377 (Middle Kingdom through Greco-Roman). 151 Compare Admonitions 16, 1: wn z pw ṯnjw, “It is the case that there was a man who had grown old”; and Peasant R1: z pw wnw, “Once there was a man” (Gardiner 1909, 95, philological note to 16,1; Barta 1993, 13, ex. 2, and 13, ex. 78); Urk. V 53, 1–2. For the syntax of the A pw construction in glosses – a frequently occurring construction in religious texts – see Barta 1990, 137–138, B.b.1–4; and Baumann 1998, 50–51, with regard to the Underworld Books; for a grammatical analysis of predicative consturctions embedded in nominal sentence patterns, includign a variety of text genres (medical, literary, et al.), see now Uljas 2007, 287–307; more generally, see also Gardiner 1994, § 189 (with nominal subject at n. 8: ḫpr ḥnnk pw n Jwnw, “That is how the ḥnnk-priest of Heliopolis came into being”); Malaise and Winand 1999, § 468 (with nominal subject at exs. 565: ḫpr mɜ-ḥḏ pw, “That is how the oryx came to be,” and 566: tm md.t ḥɜ.tj pw, “It means that the heart does not beat”); Allen 2010, § 25.3.5 (with nominal subjects: mhh jb=f pw, “it means that his heart forgets,” and ḫpr rn=f pw n mjw, “That is how his name of ‘Cat’ came to be.”); for additional references, see also Baumann 1998, 36, n. 68, and 50, n. 97. 152 Cf. gloss constructions in which wnn functions merely as a nominal converter, e.g. Loprieno 1991, 203, ex. 2 (wnn šw pw ḥr jrj.t jmj.t-prw n Gbb, “It means: Shu is composing a will for Geb”); Malaise and Winand 1999, § 1076, exs. 1921 (wnn mt.w pw nw nḥb.t dwnw(=w), “it means that the vessels of his neck are stretched out”) and 1923 (wnn mt.w pw n ḥɜ.tj ẖr ḥs, “it means that the vessels of the heart are clogged with excrement”). Although bare existential statements, without a following stative or adverbial adjunct, are rare, examples may be cited both from the Underworld

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case may be contrasted with the more common construction, fronted by ḫpr.153 Whereas the ḫpr-gloss clarifies how a particular being came to exist in the first place, the wnn-gloss clarifies how existence as such is perpetuated. Any interruption of this natural rhythm would be tantamount to cosmic disaster, as the following section explains (§ 7).

§ 7. Cols. 18 / 15–17 RVIa

RVIb

nn spr Rᶜ m t(ɜ) ɜ.t [A] ᶜpp.w [B] m ɜḫ.t nn ᶜ[p]=w [C] n t(ɜ) [p].t But if Re should fail to arrive in this moment, after having passed through the horizon, then they will not c[ross] into the sky.154

A. Interpreting the signs at face value, the expected preposition m appears to have been omitted,155 while ɜ.t employs a semi-ideographic orthography, in which

corpus (e.g., Baumann 1998, 139; Roberson 231, no. 2) and elsewhere (Barta 1993, numerous examples passim; also see Malaise and Winand 1999, § 534). Often, such sentences are introduced by a particle (esp. jw); for examples without an introductory particle, see n. 151, above; Gardiner 1994, § 107 (= Malaise and Winand 1999, § 535, ex. 758): wnn p.t wnn=ṯ, “so long as the sky exists, you shall exist”; and Urk. IV, 306, 11 (discussed in Barta 1993, 14, ex. 10): wnn=s wnn=sn n ḏ.t, “That she shall exist is that they shall exist for eternity,” among others (ibid., 15, exs. 12–13, 15). 153 See exs. cited at n. 151, above. 154 Drioton 1942, 92, n. 2, notes the influence of Late Egyptian on the expression m tɜ p.t, as opposed to earlier Egyptian m p.t, “in the sky” (compare, e.g., Černý and Groll 1993, 373, ex. 1053); thus, also Darnell 2004, 295, n. 93. For beings ᶜp, “crossing,” the horizon in the solar retinue, compare, e.g., a variant text from the ninth hour of the Amduat, preserved on the sarcophagus of Nectanebo II: ᶜp=sn ɜḫ.t m-ḫt Rᶜ jw ẖɜ.t=sn mn(.w) m s.t=sn, “Let them cross the horizon in the company of Re, their corpses having remained in their places” (Manassa 2007, vol. 1, 273–274, translating both clauses as present tense, independent main sentences). 155 The increasingly frequent omission of the preposition m is a common feature of texts from the Twentieth Dynasty and later (Groll 1982).

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the hippopotamus head writes the consonants ɜ-t and the circle substitutes for the usual solar disc determinative.156 The alternative, followed above, views the aleph-vulture as the preposition m, substituting for the m-owl,157 and transposed for graphic reasons with the small bread loaf for t(ɜ).158 B. Following Drioton, the pustule writes p-p, by consonantal principle from jpp.t, “pustule.” 159 This sign has been transposed with the initial ayin-arm, presumably to create a more aesthetically pleasing and compact orthography, in conjunction with the determinative from the preceding word and the following plural strokes, which write the 3ms stative ending .w.160 The doubled radical p reflects a peculiarity of the verb ᶜpj, “to pass; cross,” which behaves occasionally as a 2ae-gem. root in the Underworld Books.161 C. The suffix =w in this case cannot be the 3sm stative, as in the preceding example. On the one hand, we should not expect to find the bare stative (i.e. without a topicalized subject) in a negative construction.162 In addition, germination in the previous example (ᶜpp=w), and the evident lack of germination in the present case (ᶜp=w),163 suggests that the scribe understood the two constructions differently. Thus, the most reasonable interpretation of ᶜp=w would appear to be as a negative subjunctive, with the 3cp suffix =w as subject, under the influence of the contemporary Late Egyptian dialect.164 The protasis-apodosis complex functions as a threat,165 intended to safeguard the existence of the cosmos at the critical moment of transition from night to day: Forces hostile to the sun are warned that any effort

156 For this spelling, see Gardiner 1994, 461 (F3); for the phrase m tɜ ɜ.t, “in this moment,” see Wb I, 1.17 (Middle Kingdom and later). 157 The value is well attested, in numerous compositions (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. G1, m). 158 For the frequent transposition of small signs with adjacent bird hieroglyphs, et al., see Gardiner 1994, 51, § 56. 159 Drioton 1942, 104. Also cf. Darnell 2004, 294–295, who acknowledges this as a plausible reading but notes that the construction might instead represent the circumstantial ᶜp=w or nominal ᶜpp=w emphasizing the following negative clause. The former interpretation appears to me as a more plausible alternative, since the latter removes the parallelism between the two negative subjunctive clauses and, consequently, their protasis-apodosis relationship. 160 This cryptic orthography recalls contemporary Late Egyptian spellings of the 3cp suffix pronoun, for which see Wb I, 243.12–14; Černý and Groll 1993, 27–37; and Junge 2001, 52–53. 161 For examples, from a variety of sources and in a variety of constructions, see Darnell 2004, 81–82; for other occurrences of the geminated stative ᶜpp, see also Roberson 2012, 85–86, and nn. 175–176. 162 Allen 2010, § 17.15. 163 It is possible to read the p + plural strokes as p-p (see discussion Darnell 2004, 81–82 and n. 210); however, given the interpretation of the pustule in the preceding example as p-p, the present spelling would appear to reflect the un-geminated stem. 164 The Late Egyptian 3cp suffix also appears in § 5, D, and § 9, B. 165 For nn sḏm=f as the injunction in threat formulae, see Morschauser 1991, 27–30.

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to delay his progress will result in cosmic calamity, such that “they,” i.e. the solar entourage, will not re-appear in the visible sky, among the living.166

§ 8. Cols. (18) / 18–24 RVIa

RVIb

jr [A] nw [B] jrr.w [C] jn [D] Rᶜ n […] rf sjp.w […] [E] Now, as for these things that are done by Re for […] those who control […],

166 For both cosmic and terrestrial threats to the sun, see Ritner 2008, 21–22, 202–203, and passim. Such threats are ubiquitous in the magical literature, where a failure of the solar entourage to appear in the proper time and place functions often as a cosmic “worst case scenario,” capable of motivating even the most trenchant of foes or obstacles; see, e.g., Borghouts 1978, 27, no. 39: “It is the head of Re himself who illuminates the earth, who keeps mankind alive. Beware lest Re goes to sleep hungry, beware of the mourning of the gods, lest utter darkness come about and the heaven(s) be united and the water of the land be robbed”; ibid, 40, no. 63: “The sun light will not appear, the inundation will not flow when he should flow forth at his time!” Regarding the solar entourage itself, compare also

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A. The ḥn-herb substitutes for the j-reed leaf, one plant for another. B. The stp-adze substitutes for the similarly shaped nw-adze and the following vulture supplies the phonetic complement, substituting for the w-quail chick, one bird for another. C. The vulture substitutes again for the quail chick, here supplying the plural ending .w to the imperfective passive participle.167 D. The ḥn-herb substitutes again for the j-reed leaf, as above. E. Approximately six additional columns have been lost from the end of the inscription, prior to the final, retrograde row x + 30.168

§ 9. Rows 19 / x + 30 (beginning) RVIa, row 19, beginning (retrograde, →):

RIVb, row x + 30, beginning (retrograde, ←):

ḫntj.w pw [A] njw.t=w nb [B] ḥw.t ᶜɜ.t [C] ḏsr(.w) [D] m Jwnw [E] They are the ones foremost of their locality, the lord of the great mansion being cloistered, in Heliopolis. A. The calf’s head writes the preposition ḫnt, as a class substitution for the human face and nose, being literally “that which is in front.” 169 The vulture substitutes for the tjw-buzzard, supplying the phonetic complement –t and the plural nisbe ending. Following Drioton, the three pr-signs appear to supply a plural determi-

ibid., 65, no. 91: “Then the crew of Re will come to a standstill and the boat of Re will not sail so long as the boy Horus is lying on his side!” 167 The masc. singular, imperfective passive participle itself has no ending (Allen 2010, § 25.5.4). 168 Drioton 1942, 92; Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 155, nn. a and b, noting that traces of the original column borders were recorded originally by Champollion. A comparison with the photograph published in Piankoff 1954, pl. 150, shows that surface of the inscription after col. 24 was more or less entirely destroyed by that time. 169 This spelling occurs also in non-cryptic contexts, from the Nineteenth Dynasty and later, eventually becoming standard in the Late Period and Greco-Roman eras (Wb III, 302–303; Wilson 1997, 737–741; Cauville 1997, 425–430).

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native,170 suggesting multiple buildings or localities. However, ḫntj.w in the present clause constitutes the plural antecedent to the ones “who ferry Re,” described at the end of the row (§ 10). This observation supports an interpretation of the “foremost ones” as beings, rather than structures.171 The following p.t-hieroglyph supplies the copula pw,172 by consonantal principle, as found throughout the present text. B. Drioton interprets as p.t, “sky,” 173 followed by , for sɜ.w, “those who guard,” the horizon (C↓). However, the retrograde orientation of the text suggests that the plural strokes accompany the former group, i.e. , not the latter. More importantly, given that “their locality” has already been introduced (§ 4, A), it seems appropriate to retain the signs’ conventional reading in this case as well.174 In contrast to that earlier occurrence, in which the 3cp suffix appeared as =sn, the present example employs the contemporary, Late Egyptian variant =w. This conventional spelling of the Late Egyptian pronoun finds a direct parallel in § 7, C,175 and a cryptic parallel in § 5, D. The reading of the seated figure as a direct representation of nb, i.e. a seated “lord,” poses no difficulties, finding parallel also in the Book of the Day (C↓), et al.176 C. Drioton reads the group as ɜḫ.t, “horizon.” He interprets as j, by acrophony as ḫ, by acrophony from ḫpš.178 from jtr.t and phonetic change j > ɜ,177 and Against these implausible derivations, the present study interprets at face value, as ḥw.t, “temple; mansion; chapel,” 179 and the following group as the

170 Drioton 1942, 93. 171 The house determinative is characteristic of New Kingdom spellings of the nisbe construction, employed for both places and people (Wb III, 304.10; Lesko 2002–2004, vol. 1, 367: “who is before”). For the identity of the ḫntj.w, see Darnell 2004, 421, n. 227, noting Hornung’s suggestion that the term might refer to location (i.e. “in front of”), rather than primacy, or perhaps to the beings of the “fore-hall” (Wb III, 307.10) of the solar sanctuary, mentioned later (C↓). 172 Note that nisbe + noun is a separable construction (cf. Allen 2010, 92: jrj nb sšm, “every one pertaining to a function”); as such, the intercession of the copula pw poses to no syntactic difficulties (see discussion at § 1, C, n. 32). 173 The city-hieroglyph would acquire the value p from its use as a logogram in spellings of P, “Pe; Buto,” as (Drioton 1942, 109); although this substitution is probably unworkable in the present text, it does occur elsewhere, for which cf. examples in Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. O49, p. 174 Compare a description of the js.t nṯr, “crew of gods” as ḫntj(.w) njw.t tn, “foremost one(s) of this locality” (Manassa 2007, 237, Amduat, sixth hour, variant text of Nectanebo II). 175 In addition to the suffix pronoun, also note 3ms stative ending .w, in § 7, B. 176 Compare thus, with minor orthographic variations (scepters, etc.), Crypt. Lexicon, Reverse Index, s. v. nb. Note that the present figure is probably , not , as Drioton transcribed; cf. the photograph in Piankoff 1953, pl. 150, which shows clearly the curvature of the object back toward the face of the seated figure, as well as a (very) faint trace of the curved beard. 177 Drioton 1942, 93, n. 2, and 108. 178 Drioton 1942, 101. 179 Multiple structures described as ḥw.t, “mansion,” are associated with the afterlife in Heliopolis already in the Coffin Texts, e.g., ḥw.t sr (ᶜɜ.t) jmj.t Jwnw, “(great) mansion of the prince, which is

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, for the simifeminine adjective ᶜɜ.t, “great,” substituting the bovine foreleg, . This reading is supported by a parallel text from larly shaped ᶜɜ column, .180 The the Book of the Day, which writes “lord of the great mansion” as “great mansion” is associated specifically with Heliopolis as both a hall within the sun temple and as the temple itself.181 The “Lord of the Great Mansion” is well attested in temple contexts as an epithet of the nocturnal sun god, ReAtum.182 In addition, Darnell suggests plausibly that the Great Mansion might allude to the place where Re and Osiris unite at the eastern horizon, as the final location in the Underworld,183 for which see below (§ 10, D). and as mk.w, “those who protect,” 184 reD. Drioton’s interpretation of quires that we read both groups backward, relative to the prevailing retrograde orientation of the text, and also requires that the jackal and lion represent w by acrophony.185 Against this reading, I believe that the k-basket in both texts substitutes for the ds-knife, by similarity of shape,186 yielding ḏs by phonetic change.187 The lion in RVIb writes r, by consonantal principle from the sign’s usual bi-literal value as rw. Nearly identical spellings occur already in the Coffin Texts.188 In RVIb, the jackal substitutes for the lion, one recumbent mammal for another, influenced surely by the prevailing “jackal theme” of the text as a whole.189 The error of metathesis, by which the jackal precedes the basket in RVIa, is rendered transparent by comparison with RVIb, where the signs appear in the correct order; similar errors and corrections occur also at the end of the

in Heliopolis” (CT I, 166a; IV, 94l; VI, 209i; VII, 37g); ḥw.t wbnbn(.t) m Jwnw, “mansion that shines in Heliopolis” (CT V, 259b, d). 180 Thus, already Darnell 2004, 419, n. 217; followed by Müller-Roth 2008, 145, 3a; contra Drioton 1942, 87, who interprets the (non-cryptic!) group , in the Book of the Day, as ɜḫ.t. 181 Wb III, 4.3–4; also see Darnell 2004, 419–420. 182 Darnell 2004, 420, n. 219, with additional references. 183 Darnell 2004, 420–421. 184 Drioton 1942, 93, cryptogram Nº 109. 185 Drioton 1942, 107, Nºs 109A–B: acrophony from w(pš) and w(p-wɜ.wt), respectively. Note that the w value has been explained more plausibly, by phonetic change (r > w), in Darnell 2004, 95, n. 270. Nevertheless, the w value is irrelevant in the present context, given the reading proposed above. 186 Assuming that the ds-knife was not, in fact, depicted on the wall; the sign is hardly visible in the Piankoff’s photograph of RVIa (Piankoff 1954, pl. 196) but the corresponding sign in RVIb (Piankoff 1954, pl. 150) might be construed as either the basket or knife. 187 Compare AMD, 347: , ḏsr.w. 188 Van der Molen 2000, 804; also compare the sportive Ptolemaic variant (Wb V, 609–611; Wilson 1997, 1247). 189 Note that lions and jackals are mentioned together several times in the Coffin Texts, e.g., in association with a shrine of the “self-generated” creator god (CT I, 385d–387a, M5C); also compare CT VI, 338h–i, jnk sɜb pw pr(r) m ḏrḏ rw pw ḫntj tɜ šmɜw, “I am that jackal, which emerged from the leaf, and that lion, which is before the land of Upper Egypt,” as well as CT VI, 391p, which mentions s(ɜ)b rw.tj, the “jackal of the Double Lion.”

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row (§ 10). The subject-stative construction, in which the Lord of the Great Mansion is described as ḏsr, “sacred; set apart; cloistered,” 190 calls to mind a Theban solar hymn,191 and anticipates the following description of the divine birth of the Duatian as being “unobserved on earth” (§ 10, C–D). E. The nw-pot and circle that precede Jwnw in RVIa seem to be a dittographic error, anticipating the phonetic complement and city-determinative that follow the word. As usual, RVIb supplies the correct orthography, omitting these superfluous signs. Heliopolis refers here to the Netherworldly locale, introduced already in row 1 (§ 1, G).

§ 10. Rows 19 / 30 (conclusion) RVIa, row 19, end (retrograde, →):

RIVb, row x + 30, end (retrograde, ←):

ntsn ḏɜ Rᶜ rᶜ nb ḫft [A] msw.t-nṯr [B] dwɜ.tj

n wnt [C] ptr n tɜ [D]

It is they who ferry Re, every day, during the divine birth of the Duatian, without being observed on earth.

A. The circle substitutes for the solar disc (Rᶜ) and placenta (ḫft), by similarity of shape, the readings in RVI confirmed in each case by comparison with RVIb. In RVIa, the participial statement + preposition, written in conventional hieroglyphs, exhibits several errors of metathesis, which are also rendered transparent through comparison with RVIb.192 Note, in particular, that the scribe of RVIa has misconstrued the preposition ḫft as a disc logogram and a bread loaf-t logogram, each of which has been mistakenly “clarified” through the addition of a

190 For ḏsr with the sense of “set apart; separate,” see Lesko 2002–2004, vol. 2, 274, citing already Gardiner 1946, 51, l, who notes the synonyms “keeping aloof” and “segregate.” The translation as “cloistered,” employed here, finds close parallels in Gardiner’s examples of “seclusion of the palace,” as well as the “sanctify; consecrate; hallow,” with regard to temples (ibid.). 191 Assmann 1983, 154, 113b: jry=k n=k ḥw.t ᶜɜ.t [m ḥrt] / [ḏsr.tj jm=sn jmn] rn=f, “May you make for yourself a great mansion [in heaven] / [you being cloistered therein as the one] whose name [is hidden]” (following Darnell 2004, 420, n. 220, with minor variations in translation). 192 We may reconstruct the original retrograde text of RIVa as: * .

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determinative stroke. As in the opening row of the text (§ 1), the ntsn-fronted clause follows immediately after an A pw nominal sentence (§ 9). as ms.tw nṯr, a passive construction following ḫft: “lorsB. Drioton analyses que est enfanté le dieu.” 193 However, this analysis creates serious problems for the following groups (C–D↓). The present translation takes the signs at face value, as a conventional spelling of msw.t-nṯr, literally “birth of a god.” 194 C. Continuing from the previous group, Drioton reads and as r wnw.t, “at the hour of.” His solution requires that both groups be read backward, relative to the prevailing left-to-right, retrograde orientation of the text, and also < . Furtherrequires an additional error of metathesis in RVIa, where < more, a reading of r wnw.t must also ignore the dual strokes present in both and conventionally, as dwɜ.tj,195 lit. “he of the versions. I prefer to read Duat,” which nisbe construction is attested widely as an epithet of Osiris and of and , therefore read n his reincarnated son Horus.196 The next groups, wnt, in the correct direction, with no errors of metathesis or cryptic substitutions required. The negation of existence is employed here in conjunction with a following infinitive, as a clause of circumstance.197 D. Drioton, following his interpretation of the previous groups as r wnw.t, “at the hour of,” reads the final signs as prt m tɜ, “emerging from the earth.” 198 Unfor-

193 Drioton 1942, 93. 194 Wb II, 140.19–141 (with thanks to David Klotz); for this phrase, compare, for example, AMD 837–840; AMD 882 (“birth of this great god”); AMD 837–38; AMD 827; AMD 795/short 92 (“birth of this great god”); Gates 371 (“birth of this great god”); AMD 381 (“birth of Khepri”); AMD 748/ short 88 (“birth of Khepri”); Gates 368 (“birth of Re”); Litany of the Sun, eleventh address (Hornung 1975–1976, vol. 1, 169–70; “birth of [the deceased]” = “birth of ba of Re”); and Earth (Roberson 2012, 388, text 8, 4–5; “their births occurring after the birth of this Great God”). 195 Note that RVIa exhibits a minor error of metathesis, such that tj precedes dwɜ but, as with the texts discussed in A↑, the error is not present in RVIb, such that the correct orthography in the parallel renders the metathesized group transparent. 196 Letiz 2002–03, vol. 7, 522 (Osiris); ibid., vol. 5, 295–296 (Horus); dwɜ.tj also occurs in conjunction with nṯr (ibid., vol. 4, 446), for which, compare also nṯr dwɜy, “god of the morning,” as a designation of the morning stars, associated with both Re and Osiris, which occurs in the Saite period with the spelling (ibid., vol. 4, 445). The reincarnation of Osiris in the person of his son, Horus, who then rises into the daytime sky as the sun god and ascends the throne of Egypt as the king, constitutes the central motif of another cosmological composition, the so-called Awakening of Osiris and Transit of the Solar Barques, for which see Roberson 2013, 9–17, and 128 ff. 197 For circumstantial use of n wnt, see Gunn 2012, 166, § VII–VIII, exs. 17–21; in the Underworld Books, see Baumann 1998, 265; more generally, see also Satzinger 1968, § 47; Gardiner 1994, § 109 and § 394, n. 7; and Zonhoven 1997, 398–399; for the sense of the negation, see Uljas 2007, 192–194; compare also the Old Egyptian circumstantial negation njj wnt, in Edel 1964, vol. 2, 571–572, § 1099; Doret 1986, 37, ex. 33; and Vernus 2016, 216–223; for the distinction between wnt and the orthographically similar particle wn(n)t, see also Gardiner 1994, § 249 and § 402; and Oréal 2011, 259, n. 2. 198 Drioton 1942, 93 and n. 4, understanding n as m, via the Late Egyptian interchange of those two phonemes.

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tunately, his derivation of the infinitive prt presents additional, serious difficulties. In RVIa, we do find that all of the expected consonants are present: The sky sign for p, as found throughout the present text (§ 1, D), plus r and t written conventionally. Nevertheless, these values require that the hieroglyphs be read out of sequence: p-t-r for , as an error of metathesis. For RVIb, Drioton reads in reverse order, from bottom to top, with the circle writing p by similarity of shape with the pɜ.t-loaf, , which becomes p by consonantal principal.199 It seems unlikely that both versions of the text would exhibit two different errors of metathesis in the same word and more unlikely still that metathesis would result in an entire word being written backward (thus, also C↑). In addition to these issues, it is noteworthy that a subsequent text, written conventionally, describes the “emergence” occurring in the twelfth hour as m dwɜ.t, “from the Duat,” rather than m tɜ, “from the earth.” 200 Against Drioton’s more problematic analysis, the present translation takes each of the final signs in the order they are written, with only a single determinative misplaced through metathesis, in only one version of the text.201 In RVIa, the sky sign writes p, as Drioton recognized, followed by conventional signs tr, yielding ptr, “to see (gaze, observe); be seen.” 202 The final group n tɜ, “upon earth,” is written conventionally.203 The combination ptr + n is the expected idiom meaning to “gaze upon something.” 204 However, in conjunction with the preceding adverbial expression describing the “god’s birth” of the Duatian, and

199 Drioton 1942, 93 and 102: “par acrophonie” [sic]. 200 Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 158–159, discussed below, at nn. 210–211; also compare the roughly analogous phrases prj m p.t, “emerging into the sky,” prj m hrw, “emerging into the day,” and prj m ɜḫ.t, “emerging from the akhet” (Wb I, 520–21). It is also conceivable that tɜ might function here as a cryptic spelling of d(w)ɜ(.t), reflecting the contemporary pronunciation, as realized later in the Coptic reflex ⲦⲎ, “Hell” (see, e.g. Darnell 2004, 66, n. 139; and Roberson 2012, 73, 436, n. 745, and 437–438, n. 750. 201 Thus, tɜ in RVIa, with the correct sign order in RVIb, as usual. 202 Wb I, 564 (said of hidden things, II.7). In Middle Egyptian, the verb ptr is distinguished from the generic verb of perception mɜɜ, “to see,” by deliberate willfulness involved in ptr-seeing (Depuydt 1988, 12, § 2.3), rendered above as “observe.” For the distribution and sematinc range of the verbs of perception and their change over time, see also Winand 1986, noting in particular his discussion of “Egyptien classique avec influence du néo-égyptien,” at pp. 307–309, where the author notes that, during the Amarna period, ptr and mɜɜ, signifying intentional looking (“regarder”) occur more or less interchangably in ceretain stereotyped expressions, while contemporary, nonstereotyped expressions appear to prefer dgi or nw for this sense, with ptr amd mɜɜ conveying the more generic sense of seeing (“voir”). 203 Note the minor error of metathesis, in which the stroke and land determinatives appear in front of the n tɜ group; the correct sign order appears in RVIb. 204 Wb I, 564.19. Note that the other prepositions used with the sense of “gazed upon,” namely m and r (ibid., 564.17–18), are also reasonable cryptic values for the n-water sign.

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lacking a direct object,205 the sense is probably not active but passive.206 Thus, the birth of the chthonic deity is neither observed nor observable upon earth, i.e. by the living.207 In RVIb, the mouth writes p, a widely attested class substitution,208 and the pupil/circle writes t, as a substitution of shape, replacing the half-circle bread loaf, whole-for-part.209 The infinitive ptr appears in RVIb as pt(j), a reduced spelling that is also attested widely.210 The circumstantial clause “without being observed upon earth” locates the previously described events within a spatial and temporal matrix that is explicitly prior to the sun’s re-emergence into the daytime sky.211 It is tempting to speculate that the use of cryptography in the Jackal Hymn might relate specifically to the “unobservable” nature of events in the final hour of the night, culminating in the “divine birth of the Duatian,” just beyond the limits of human perception. In this regard, it is significant that the text immediately following, which is to say, the final annotation to the Book of the Night,212 reverts to the conventional Hieroglyphic script

205 Use of ptr with a following adverbial expression, without a direct object, betrays the influence of Late Egyptian (Baumann 1998, 108, n. 234). 206 Compare the passive expression n mɜɜ n ptr, “unseen and unobserved,” employed in the Amduat, Book of the Dead, et al. (for discussion and examples, see Gunn 2012, 190–191; and esp. Baumann 1998, 31, 395–396, noting instances where the phrase occurs “at the end of sentences in which no logical object is expressed and which are therefore certainly to be analyzed as n + infinitive, ‘passively’ used, or participle”). 207 For the “forceful denial of the very possibility” of the negated state of affiars, see Uljas 2007, 193. The present expression may be viewed as a negative counterpart to the idiom ptr nṯr, “observation of a god,” discussed in Depuydt 1988, 12, n. 17, who notes that the latter expression “lässt an die Bedeutung ‘schauen’ oder ‘betrachten’ (= gedehntes Blicken)”; for the different categories of beings, including the living upon earth, described as “seeing” (mɜɜ, ptr, ḫf, dgj) the gods, see Van Der Plas 1989, 7–9, §§ 1.1–3; for natural phenomena (e.g., the sunrise) described in these terms, see ibid., 25, § 3.3; and see also Derchain 2005 32–35, for discussion of ptr and mɜɜ with the connotation of “seeing” an (external) manifestation of the divine (e.g., a cult statue), as opposed to ḫf, which connotes (internal) spiritual contemplation. For the unobservable (from a terrestrial perspective) aspects of the solar journey at the liminal point of transition from night to day, see Dorman 1999, 92–93 and n. 34. Also see Uljas 2003, 396–397, for discussion of the verb of perception mɜɜ + noun clause converter wnt, marking an object clause that is observed objectively and independent of modality; the present clause of circumstance conveys a similarly non-modal nuance, insofar as the event described is objectively unobservable. 208 I.e. the frontal mouth for the spewing mouth, employed frequently in cryptic texts with the pvalue. 209 Attested also in the Book of Gates and the Theban tomb of Djehuty (Crypt. Lexicon, s. v. D12, t/d). 210 See thus Wb I, 564: and (Old Kingdom); vs. (Middle Kingdom); for similar New Kingdom orthographies, see Lesko 2002–2004, vol. 1, 159. 211 Compare the name of the twelfth hour, which evokes the impeding sunrise as a visible phenomenon, utilizing the same verb: wnw.t n.t Rᶜ ptr nfrw nb=s, “the Hour of Re, ‘Observing her lord’s perfection’” (Roulin 1996, vol. 1, 342a; vol. 2, 160). 212 See Roulin 1996, vol. 1, 340–346; vol. 2, 158–163.

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for its description of the “impeding sunrise … [as] a clinically accurate description of natural childbirth on a cosmic scale.” 213 In the sarcophagus hall of Ramesses VI, these two complementary texts – one, a cryptic annotation culminating in Osirian rebirth, which cannot be observed on earth; the other, a non-cryptic description of solar rebirth, as the observable cosmic phenomenon par excellence – converge at right angles, the former exactly perpendicular to the midpoint of the latter. Between the two texts, the night and day barques appear, prow to prow, as an explicit representation of the daily transition from the chthonic realm to the visible sky, at the moment of sunrise.214

213 Dorman 1999, 85–86. 214 For the attestations, meaning, and symbolism of the solar barques, prow-to-prow, see Thomas 1956; with additional discussion and references in Roberson 2013, 13–14, n. 57, and 128–131, § 4.3.1.

RVIb (KV6, Hall E, following Piankoff 1954, pl. 150; and Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 152–155).

RVIa (KV6, Sarcophagus Hall, following Piankoff 1954, pl. 196; and Roulin 1996, vol. 2, 152–155).

Plate 1

Å blank Æ

Å blank Æ

Åapprox. 6 cols. destroyedÆ

The Jackal Hymn of the West, hieroglyphic transcription illustrating approximate positions of signs in original retrograde rows and prograde columns. The ‘Jackal Hymn of the West’ in the Book of the Night

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Appendix of Cryptographic Values Discussed in the “Jackal Hymn” (shaded cells = values proposed as alternate or readings)

Sign nr.

Value(s)

Substitution mechanism(s)

Occurrence(s)

wr

Rebus (Wb IV, 70.17–23)

§ 1, J

t

consonantal (jty)

§ 1, J, alternate

ᶜḥᶜ

Direct (“standing”)

§ 1, J, n. 70

A23a

see A21a

see A21a

see A21a

A40b

nṯr

Ideogram (Wb II, 359–259)

§ 6, B

A40c

nb

Direct (seated “lord”)

§ 9, B

A40e

nṯr

see A40b

see A40b

Rᶜ

Shape (circle: N5, )

§ 10, A

ḫ

Shape (circle: Aa1, )

§ 10, A

t

Whole for part (X1,

det., ɜ.t

Shape (circle: N5, )

§ 7, A

det., Jwnw

Shape (circle: O49, )

§ 9, E

det., jmnt.t

Shape (central depression: N26, ); Class (mountains: N25, ) Thematic (ḏsr.t ~ jmnt.t as synonyms for the land of the dead)

§ 1, F

sɜb

Direct (“jackal”)

§ 1, K

sṯɜ

See E228

§ 1, H

sɜb

Direct (“jackal”)

§ 1, K

sɜb

Direct (a “jackal” image)

§ 2, A

wp(.w) wɜ.wt

Rebus (Wb I, 304.16)

§ 2, A–B

E228

sṯɜ wjɜ n Rᶜ

Direct (“those who haul the barque of Re”)

§ 1, H–I

F3

ɜ.t

Ideogram (Wb I, 1.14–21)

§ 7, A

F23

ᶜɜ

Shape (low, horizontal, tapering, hooved/capped on tapered end: § 9, C O29, )

A21a

D12

D45

Glyph

)

§ 6, D; § 10, D

E17 E17 variant E18 variant

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(continued) Sign nr.

Value(s)

Substitution mechanism(s)

ḫnt

Class (heads, noses: D19,

w

Class (birds: G43,

m

Class (tall birds: G17,

t

Class (tall scavenger birds: G4 ; G4a, ); Consonantal (tjw)

§ 6, C

tjw

Class (as previous)

§ 1, B; § 9, A

w

Class (birds: G43,

ḏr.t

Ideogram (Wb V, 596.2–8)

§ 5, C

ḏr(w)

Rebus (Wb V, 596.2–8) Consonantal (ḏr.t)

§ 3, G

ḏr.t

Ideogram (Wb V, 596.2–8)

§ 5, C

ḏr(w)

Rebus (Wb V, 596.2–8) Consonantal (ḏr.t)

§ 3, G

ḫntj

Rebus (Wb III, 308.4)

§ 3, E

j

Class (plants: M17, )

§ 8, A, D

ḥ

Shape and Class (plants with three stalks: M16, ); Consonantal (ḥɜ)

§ 6, B

s

Consonantal (sw)

§ 1, J

rsj

pars pro toto / class (plants, sedge: M24, )

§ 1, J, alternate

N1

p(w)

Consonantal (p.t)

§ 1, D; § 5, E; § 9, A; § 10, D

N1 + N33a

tɜ

Shape and Class (earth, sky, wa§ 3, B ) ter: N16,

N3B

kkw

Class (sky: N46b, (Wb V, 142–143)

N14

sb(j)

Rebus (Wb IV, 82–83, sbɜ) + consonantal

b

logogram (bjɜ, Wb I, 439.6–8) + consonantal

§ 3, F, n. 104

n

Shape and class (low, horizon) tal; earth, sky, water: N35,

§ 3, F, n. 105

F63

Glyph

G1

G39

G144

G144b

I5

M2

M23

Occurrence(s) )

§ 9, A § 1, G; § 5, D, E; § 8, C

) )

)

) Ideogram

§ 7, A

§ 1, G

§ 5, E § 1, C

N18

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Joshua Aaron Roberson

(continued) Sign nr.

Value(s)

Substitution mechanism(s)

Occurrence(s)

N18 + det.

jw

Rebus (Wb I, 47.6–11)

§ 3, F, n. 106; § 5, A

N25 + N25

jmn.tj

ideogram (Wb I, 87) + false dual

§ 3, D

N27

jw

Class (land signs: N18,

§ 1, G

P109

wjɜ n Rᶜ

See E228

§ 1, I

P112

wjɜ nṯr

Direct (wjɜ, “boat” + nṯr-fetish)

§ 5, C

S3

n

Consonantal (n.t)

§ 6, A

U21a

nw

Shape and class (adze: U19,

W19

smɜw

Shape (F36, )

W24

t

Shape (cryptic D12↑, t:

w

Rebus (Wb I, 243.12–14)

§ 7, B, C; § 9, B

Aa2

pp

Consonantal (jpp.t)

§ 7, B

Aa13

r

Shape (low, horizontal: D21, ); possibly also ~ mouth in profile

§ 5, E

Z2 / Z3

Glyph

/

)

)

§ 8, B § 5, E

)

§ 6, D

Bibliography Allen, J. P., 1988, Genesis in Egypt. The Philosophy of Ancient Egyptian Creation Accounts. YES 2. Allen, J. P., 2010, Middle Egyptian: An Introduction to the Language and Culture of Hieroglyphs, 2nd ed., Oxford. Assmann, J., 1983, Sonnenhymnen in thebanischen Gräbern. Theben 1, Mainz. Baines, J., 1985, Fecundity Figures, Warminster. Barta, W., 1990, Komparative Untersuchungen zu vier Unterweltsbüchern. MÄU 1. Barta, W., 1993, “Zum Gebrauch des Verbums wnn im Alt- und Mittelägyptischen,” GM 132, 13–18. Baumann, A. J., 1998, The Suffix Conjugation of Early Egyptian as Evidenced in the Underworld Books, Ph. D. dissertation, University of Chicago. Betrò, M., 1998, “Il Libro della Notte e le guide dell’aldilà,” Orientalia 67/4, 509–522. Betrò, M., 2016, “La più antica menzione delle Colonne d’Ercole? Il testo sui Ba Occidentali nella tomba di Ramses VI in Egitto,” Rivista di Studi Fenici 44, 99–104. Borghouts, J. F., 1978, Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts, Leiden. Calverley, A. M., 1958, The Temple of King Sethos I at Abydos, vol. IV, London, Chicago. Cauville, S., 1997, Dendara. Les chapelles osiriennes index. BdE 119. Černý, J., 1973, The Valley of the Kings: fragments d’un manuscrit inachevé. BdE 61. Černý, J., Groll, S. I., 1993, A Late Egyptian Grammar, 4th ed., Rome. Champollion, J.-F., 1844, Monuments de l’Égypte et de la Nubie. Notices descriptives, vol. 2, Paris. Darnell, J. C., 2004, The Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity. Cryptographic Compositions in the Tombs of Tutankhamun, Ramesses VI and Ramesses IX. OBO 198.

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Depuydt, L., 1988, “Die ‘Verben des Sehens’: Semantische Grundzüge am Beispiel des Ägyptischen,” Orientalia 57, 1–13. Derchain, Ph., 2005, “Méditations littéraires,” LingAeg 13, 31–37. Diego Espinel, A., 2014, “Play and Display in Egyptian High Culture: The Cryptographic Texts of Djehuty (TT 11) and their Sociocultural Contexts,” in: J. M. Galán, B. M. Bryan, P. F. Dorman (eds.), Creativity and Innovation in the Reign of Hatshepsut. SAOC 69, 297–335. Doret, É., 1986, The Narrative Verbal System of Old and Middle Egyptian. Cahiers d’Orientalisme 12. Dorman, P., 1999, “Creation on the Potter’s Wheel at the Eastern Horizon of Heaven,” in: E. Teeter, J. Larson (eds.), Gold of Praise. Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honor of Edward F. Wente. SAOC 58, 83–99. Drioton, É., 1936, “Les protocoles ornementaux d’Abydos,” RdE 2, 1–20. Drioton, É., 1942, “L’écriture énigmatique du Livre du Jour et de la Nuit,” in: A. Piankoff, Livre du Jour et de la Nuit. BdE 13, 83–121. DuQuesne, T., 1990, Anubis and the Spirits of the West. Oxfordshire Communications in Egyptology 1, London. DuQuesne, T., 1996, Black and Gold God. Colour Symbolism of the god Anubis with observations on the phenomenology of colour in Egyptian and comparative religion. Oxfordshire Communications in Egyptology 5. Edel, E., 1955–1964, Altägyptische Grammatik, 2 vols. Analecta Orientalia 34/39. Étienne-Fart, M., 1994, “‘De rebus quae geruntur …’ dans deux inscriptions ramessides,” BIFAO 94, 133–142. Fairman, H. W., 1945, “An Introduction to the Study of Ptolemaic Signs and Their Values,” BIFAO 43, 51–138. Fischer, H. G., 1976, Varia. Egyptian Studies 1, New York. Fischer-Elfert, H.-W., 2008, “Weitere Details zur Göttlichkeit der Natur – Fragmente eines späthieratischen Lexikons (Pap. Hal. Kurth Inv. 33 A–C (Halle/Saale)),” ZÄS 135, 115–130. Gardiner, A. H., 1909, The Admonitions of an Egyptian Sage from a Hieratic Papyrus in Leiden (Pap. Leiden 344 Recto), Leipzig. Gardiner, A. H., 1994. Egyptian Grammar, 3d ed., reprint of 1957, Oxford. Groll, S. I., 1982, “Diachronic Grammar as a Means of Dating Undated texts,” in: S. I. Groll (ed.), Egyptological Studies. Scripta Hierosolymitana, 11–104. Gunn, B., 1926, “Notes on Recent Publications,” JEA 12, 123–137. Gunn, B., 2012, Studies in Egyptian Syntax, 2nd ed., Oxford. Hornung, E., 1963, Das Amduat. Die Schrift des verborgenen Raumes, 2 vols. ÄghAbh 7. Hornung, E., 1975, “Dunkelheit,” in: W. Helck, E. Otto (eds.), Lexikon der Ägyptologie, vol. 2, Wiesbaden, cols. 1153–1154. Hornung, E., 1975–1976, Das Buch der Anbetung des Re im Westen (Sonnenlitanei) nach den Versionen des Neuen Reiches, 2 vols. AH 2–3. Hornung, E., 1979–1980, Das Buch von den Pforten des Jenseits, 2 vols. AH 7. Hornung, E., 1981, “Zu den Schlussszenen der Unterweltsbücher,” MDAIK 37, 217–226. Hornung, E., 1987–1994, Texte zum Amduat, 3 vols. AH 13–15, Basel. Jansen-Winkeln, K. 1996, Spätmittelägyptische Grammatik der Texte der 3. Zwischenzeit, ÄAT 34. Junge, Fr., 2001, Late Egyptian Grammar: An Introduction, translated from the German by David Warburton, Oxford. Kitchen, K., 1979, Ramesside Inscriptions, Historical and biographical, vol. 2, Oxford. Klotz, D., 2010, “Two Studies on the Late Period Temples at Abydos,” BIFAO 110, 127–163. Klotz, D., 2012, “The peculiar naophorous statuette of a Heliopolitan priest: Hannover, Museum August Kestner 1935.200.510,” ZÄS 139, 136–144. Klotz, D., 2014, “Hibis Varia (§ 1–3): Diverse Liturgical Texts from Hibis temple,” BIFAO 43, 173– 207.

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Lesko, L., 2002–2004, A Dictionary of Late Egyptian, Second Edition, 2 vols., 2nd ed., Providence. Leitz, Chr., 2002–2003, Lexikon der Ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, 7 vols. OLA 110–116. Loprieno, A., 1991, “Focus, mood, and negative forms: Middle Egyptian syntactic paradigms and diachrony,” LingAeg 1, 210–226. Malaise, M., Winand, J. 1999, Grammaire raisonnée de l’égyptien classique. ÆgLeod 6. Malek, J., 1981, “Review Article: Two Problems Connected with New Kingdom Tombs in the Memphite Area,” JEA 67, 156–165. Manassa, C., 2004, “Appendix of Cryptographic Values,” in: J. Darnell, Enigmatic Netherworld Books, 587–617. Manassa, C., 2006, “The Judgment Hall of Osiris in the Book of Gates,” RdE 57, 109–142. Manassa, C., 2007. The Late Egyptian Underworld. Sarcophagi and Related Texts from the Nectanebid Period, 2 vols. ÄAT 72. Manassa, C., 2013. “Divine Taxonomy in the Underworld Books,” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 14/1, 47–68. Der Manuelian, P., 1994, Living in the Past: Studies in Archaism of the Egyptian Twenty-Sixth Dynasty, London. Möller, G., 1965, Hieratische Paläographie, zweiter Band, 2nd ed., revised, reprint of 1927, Osnabrück. Morschauser, S., 1991, Threat-Formulae in Ancient Egypt. A Study of the History, Structure and Use of Threats and Curses in Ancient Egypt, Baltimore. Müller-Roth, M., 2008, Das Buch vom Tage. OBO 236. Munro, P., 1987, “Die Inschriften auf dem Architrav de Jdw (G7102): ein Standard-Text in ungewöhnlicher Gliederung,” in: H. Altenmüller, R. Gamer (eds.), Miscellanea aegyptologica: Wolfgang Helck zum 75. Geburtstag, Hamburg, 127–158. Nelson, H. H., 1981, The Great Hypostyle Hall at Karnak Volume 1, Part 1: The Wall Reliefs. OIP 106. Oréal, E., 2011, Les particules en Égyptien ancien de l’ancien égyptien à l’égyptien classique. BdE 152. Osing, J., 1977, “Glosse,” in: W. Helck, W. Westendorf (eds.), Lexikon der Ägyptologie, vol. 2, Wiesbaden, cols. 628–630. Pasquali, St., 2011, “Des fouilles « discrètes » à Ro-Sétaou en 1931? II: la stèle du prince Khâemouaset,” GM 228, 59–63. Piankoff, A., 1942, Le Livre du Jour et de la Nuit. BdE 13. Piankoff, A., 1944, “Le Livre des Quérerts, Seconde division; Troisième division; Quatrième division; Cinquième division,” BIFAO 42, 1–62, pls. 10–79. Piankoff, A., 1945, “Le Livre des Quérerts, Sixième Division,” BIFAO 43, 1–50, pls. 80–151. Piankoff, A., 1954, The Tomb of Ramesses VI. Bollingen Series XL/1. Quirke, St., 2003, “Measuring the Underworld,” in: D. O’Connor, S. Quirke (eds.), Mysterious Lands, New York, 161–181. Ritner, R. K., 2008, The Mechanics of Ancient Egyptian Magical Practice, SAOC 54, 4th printing. Robinson, P., 2003, “‘As for them who know them, they shall find their paths’: Speculations on Ritual Landscapes in the ‘Book of Two Ways’,” in: D. O’Connor, S. Quirke (eds.), Mysterious Lands, New York, 139–159. Roberson, J. A., 2007, “An Enigmatic Wall from the Cenotaph of Seti I at Abydos,” JARCE 43, 93– 112. Roberson, J. A., 2010, “Observations on the so-called ‘sw sḏm=f,’ or Middle Egyptian Proclitic Pronoun Construction,” in: Z. Hawass, J. Wegner (eds.), Millions of Jubilees: Studies in Honor of David P. Silverman, SASAE 39, vol. 2, 185–205. Roberson, J. A., 2012, The Ancient Egyptian Books of the Earth. Wilbour Studies in Egyptology and Assyriology 1.

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Roberson, J. A., 2013, The Awakening of Osiris and the Transit of the Solar Barques. Royal Apotheosis in a Most Concise Book of the Underworld and Sky. OBO 262. Roberson, J. A., 2016, “The Royal Funerary Books. The Subject Matter of Scenes and Texts,” in: R. H. Wilkinson, K. R. Weeks (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Valley of the Kings, Oxford, 316–332. Roccati, A., 1986, “Verb System in Early Egyptian: Some Considerations on Aktionsart, Diathesis, Aspect, Tense,” in: G. Englund, P. J. Frandsen (eds.), Crossroad. Chaos or the Beginning of a New Paradigm. CNI Publications 1, 289–295. Roulin, G., 1996, Le Livre de la Nuit. Une composition égyptienne de l’au-delà, 2 vols. OBO 147. Satzinger, H., 1968, Die negative Konstruktionen im Alt- und Mittelägyptischen. MÄS 12. Sethe, K., 1908, “Die aenigmatischen Inschriften,” in: M. W. C. Northampton, W. Spiegelberg, P. E. Newberry, Report on Some Excavations in the Theban Necropolis During the Winter of 1898–9, 1*–12*. Stauder, A., 2014, “Splitting the sḏm.n=f? A discussion of written forms in the Coffin Texts. Part 2,” ZÄS 141 (2), 195–208. Thomas, E, 1956, “Solar Barques Prow to Prow,” JEA 42, 65–79. Uljas, S., 2003, “On Interclausal Relations in Middle Egyptian Object Complementation,” in: S. Bickel, A. Loprieno (eds.), Basel Egyptology Prize 1: Junior Research in Egyptian History, Archaeology, and Philology. AH 17, 387–403. Uljas, S., 2007, The Modal System of Earlier Egyptian Complement Clauses. A Study in Pragmatics in a Dead Language. PdÄ 26. Van der Molen, E., 2000, A Hieroglyphic Dictionary of Egyptian Coffin Texts. PdÄ 15. Vandersleyen, Cl., 1999, Ouadj our wɜḏ wr. Un autre aspect de la vallée du Nil, Connaissance de l’Égypte Ancienne 7. Van Der Plas, D., 1989, “« VOIR » DIEU. Quelques observations au sujet de la fonction des sens dans le culte et la dévotion de l’Égypte ancienne,” BSFE 115, 4–35. Van Voss, M. H., 1955, “The Jackals of the Sun-Boat,” JEA 41, 127. Vernus, P., 2016, “Restricted Circulation in Old Egyptian as Mirrored in Later ‘Repristination von Tradition’ and Revivals: The dependent pronoun kw; the nfr-n negation; the n wnt sḏm=f construction,” in: J. P. Allen, M. A. Collier, A. Stauder (eds.), Coping with Obscurity. The Brown Workshop on Earlier Egyptian Grammar. Wilbour Studies in Egyptology and Assyriology 3, 201–223. Von Lieven, A., 2004, “Das Göttliche in der Natur erkennen. Tiere, Pflanzen und Phänomene der unbelebten Natur als Manifestationen des Göttlichen (mit einer Edition der Baumliste P. Berlin 29027),” ZÄS 131, 156–172. Werning, D., 2008, “Aenigmatische Schreibungen in Unterweltsbüchern des Neuen Reiches: gesicherte Entsprechungen und Ersetzungsprinzipien,” in: C. Peust (ed.), Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf. GM Beihefte 3, 124–152. Werning, D., 2011, Das Höhlenbuch. Textkritische Edition und Textgrammatik, 2 vols., GOF IV 48. Wilson, P., 1997, A Ptolemaic Lexikon. A Lexicographical Study of the Texts in the Temple of Edfu. OLA 78. Winand, J., 1986, “Champ sémantique et structure en Egyptien ancient,” BIFAO 13, 293–314. Winand, J., 1995, “La grammaire au secours de la datation des textes,” RdE 46, 187–202. Zonhoven, L. 1997. “Studies on the sḏm.t=f Verb Form in Classical Egyptian, III: The active n sḏm.t=f construction,” in: J. Van Dijk (ed.), Essays on Ancient Egypt in Honour of Herman Te Velde. Egyptological Memoirs 1, 383–400.

Daniel A. Werning

Semiotic Aspects of Alienated and Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom Abstract: Among the spellings commonly described as “enigmatic,” we may differentiate between two spelling modes: “alienated” spellings, which are still comparatively easily readable based on the knowledge of standard orthographic sign functions, and “cryptographic” spellings, for the interpretation of which the knowledge of the generative principles or a cipher table, like the “crypto-alphabet,” is required. A thorough semiotic analysis of the generative principles of enigmatic spellings reveals that the iconicity of the involved graphemes is often less relevant than one might have expected (e.g., in the principles of Generic classifiers, Meronymic sign exchange, Graphic similarity, Onomatopoeia, Conceptual association). As opposed to the principle of Generic classifiers, the principle of Free categorial exchange is less well attested in the Amduat and the Book of Caverns, and therefore probably a less convincing explanation for supposed readings in other enigmatic texts without available plaintext. The principle of Graphic similarity seems to demand that the shapes of the signs are very similar, not just vaguely similar (or just being consuming a comparable space of a quadrat). A cryptic Egyptian ciphertext string [bird-bird-bird-quadruped-locust] found in Caverns is explained as a signifier for ‘cryptogram,’ in which we have one of the rare semiotic cases of a signifier that is motivated by its referents, i.e., that has a direct connection to its referents (not only an indirect connection via the concept referred to). Furthermore, the string well represents the signs as well as the encryption principles of the “cryptoalphabet.” As to the function of enigmatic spellings in the Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom, we need to differentiate between two types of usage: the alienated or cryptographic spelling of creatures’ names plus additional attestation of the respective plaintexts in Amduat and Caverns, on the one hand, and the cryptographic spelling of the full text in, e.g., the Enigmatic Netherworld Books scenes, on the other hand. For the former case, it is suggested that the “special” way of spelling names can be understood as a conceptual metaphor for the “special” ontological status of the creatures referred to (“ontological specialness metaphor”). For the latter case, fully cryptographic texts, it is suggested that this points to a sociological phenomenon: the shaping of identity of a narrow in-group of educated priests. At the same time, the cryptographic spelling may here as well be interpreted as an “ontological specialness metaphor” – in this case, however, referring to the “special” ontological status of the described netherworld realms as a whole.

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-007

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Daniel A. Werning

1 Introduction This article is a revisit of my 2008 article on securely verified principles of “enigmatic,” that is to say non-standard-orthographic encodings in the Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom. It offers a more precise description of the generative principles based on a semiotic diagram model that I developed, which necessarily includes both written and spoken signifiers. The article is the outcome of the presentation and the subsequent discussions of the topic, first on the occasion of the conference “Peirce, Hieroglyphs, and Multimodality” (EXC Topoi, Berlin, 7–9 May 2014) and second on the occasion of the conference “New Kingdom Cryptography” (eikones, Basel, 23–24 May 2015) which the present volume has evolved from. The text examples come from two exemplars of the so-called Netherworld Books (or Books of the Underworld). These theological texts describe the nocturnal journey of the sun god through the underworld and his interaction with its inhabitants.1 Like most of the Netherworld Books, they come in a form of a hybrid of pictorial and textual elements, being roughly comparable to graphic novels. The Netherworld Books date between the 15th and the 12th centuries BCE. The two books mainly considered in this article, the “Amduat” and the “Book of Caverns” (short: “Caverns”), were probably created in the 15th and 13th centuries BCE, respectively.2 The authors were surely experienced in reading and writing Earlier Egyptian and in theology, so that we may assume that they were educated professional priests. More specifically, the texts examples come from those parts of Amduat and Caverns in which “enigmatic” spellings and “standard-orthographic” spellings of the same message occur side by side. Therefore, the reading of the enigmatic spellings is beyond reasonable doubt in nearly all cases. Obviously, the enigmatic spellings in the Netherworld Books share many of the generative principles of “alienation” and “encryption.” These are the topic of the present article. Section 2 introduces my usage of relevant terms. In Section 3, a revised list of generative encoding principles and the crypto-alphabet is presented, and the process of encoding is discussed. Sections 4 and 5 offer some detailed semiotic analy-

1 Werning 2011, I, ch. I.A. 2 Werning 2011, I, ch. V; Werning 2013, § 4. Note: In this article, glossings of functional interpretations of signs and words are indicated by square brackets (“[...]”), e.g., [divine/nṯr:r-t-goddess]. Logograms are indicated as a pair of meaning and phonemes (divine/nṯr), phonograms as a string of phonemes (t), and classifiers as a meaning in small caps (e.g., goddess) or simply as cl. The semogram index (for the term, see Werning 2011, I, 103 or Werning 2015, § 10) is indicated by the cursive abbreviation “SemIx.” The individual signs are usually separated by hyphens (“-”). However, phonetic complements are indicated by “:.” In the case of cryptographic spellings, the undeciphered standard-orthographical interpretation of the signs/words are given in single square brackets, while the deciphered functional interpretation is indicated in double brackets, e.g., [plant-n-spitting-bird] = [[j-n-p-w]].

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ses of selected encodings. In Section 6, I present some ideas about the function of enigmatic encodings in the Netherworld Books.

2 Terminology: Standard orthography vs. alienated spelling vs. cryptographic spelling 2.1 Standard orthography In the context of Egyptian hieroglyphic spelling, some scholars hesitate to speak of an “orthography.” This is primarily because usually more than one spelling is attested for the same given word in a given period. Accordingly, there is usually more than one “correct” spelling per word. Therefore, the term “orthography” seems inadequate to some scholars.3 However, there are clearly also certain limits to the flexibility in spellings displayed by Hieroglyphic Egyptian. For example, roots or stems with the consonantal sequence s-n can be denoted with the help of, basically, four different signs or sign sequences in the 2nd millennium BCE: [s] a) with only a combination of the mono-consonantal phonograms [s] or [n] or [n], plus b) with the bi-consonantal phonogram [sn], [sn], or c) with the phonogram d) with the phono-repeater 4 (traditionally, “phonetic determinative”) / [sn]. [n] and In this contexts it is less interesting that (b) is frequently followed by [s-n] or optionally preceded by [s], that (c) is obligatorily preceded by either [s], and that (d) is obligatorily preceded by [s-n]. Rather, the “orthographic” phenomenon that I want to highlight here is the attested usage of these four basic ways in order to spell specific roots or stems – see Table 1. Clearly, these four basic ways of spelling are not distributed in a random pattern: rather, certain roots/stems are preferably spelled in certain ways. This phenomenon, by which not all theoretically possible ways to write a certain word are equally used, is what I mean when I speak of “standard orthography.” This does not only encompass the issues of the denotation of the consonantal sequence, but also the categorization of a word by classifiers and the distinction between logographic vs. purely phonological spellings. Differently than modern orthographies

3 Wolfgang Schenkel (1997, 2012, § 3.2), e.g., uses the designation “Eugraphie” instead (with reference to Pascal Vernus). It is probably worth noting that there are also – admittedly comparatively few – cases in which more than one spelling is allowed for in present Modern High German orthography. Yet, this does not disqualify it from being called an “orthography.” 4 The term “phono-repeater” was introduced in Werning 2015, § 13.

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Tab. 1: Spelling of words with the consonantal root or stem s-n in the 2nd mill. BCE.5 Word

/

+

only

[s-n] sn */sin/ ‘3pl’

,

/

or

[(s:)sn1(:n)]

[s:sn2(:n)]

[s-n-sn3]

,

sn- */sVna-/ ‘two’ (root)

,

sn */san/ ‘brother’ sn */s(i)n/ ‘smell, kiss’

/

, ,

,

,

*)

sn */s(a)n/ ‘open’

,

sn(j) */s(i)ni-/ ‘pass’

,

,

, ... ,

, ...

*) only before middle of 2nd mill. BCE.

which allow for usually one, less often two, spellings, Egyptian hieroglyphic orthographies often allow for more than one or two ways of spelling a given word – but not for just any theoretically conceivable way. In the case of spellings that deviate from this (moderately flexible) orthography in certain systematic ways, I speak of “enigmatic” spellings. Among these enigmatic spellings, it is useful to differentiate between at least three modes of spelling based on the deviation principles used: “alienated” spellings, truly encrypted “cryptographic” spellings, and “aesthetic cryptography” (alias “Visuelle Poesie,” “ornamental cryptography,” “monumental cryptography”).6 This article concerns mostly “alienated” and “cryptographic” spellings. These are characterized in the following paragraph.

2.2 Alienation vs. encryption, and alienated vs. cryptographic spellings A rather basic mode of non-standard-orthographic spellings (see Section 2.1) is “alienated” spelling. This mode is well exemplified in the 1st–3rd and 6th–12th hours of the Amduat. Differently from the “encrypted” mode, the signs employed in alienated spellings are still comparatively easily readable based on the knowledge of sign usages in standard orthography. This needs some further explanation and exemplification (see Tab. 2). Transferred to a made-up example from English, a spelling “nEckst” instead of “next” would exemplify alienated spelling, while

5 For the spellings, see DZA 29.255.080–100 (3pl), DZA 29.260.590 (‘two’), DZA 29.268.420–450 (‘brother’), DZA 29.295.110 (‘smell, kiss’), DZA 28.673.990 (‘open’), DZA 28.671.060 (‘pass’). Exceptional further spelling variants that are attested only extremely rarely are omitted here. 6 Werning 2008, 124–126.

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Tab. 2: Standard-orthographic vs. alienated vs. encrypted encoding modes.7 Encoding mode

Standard

Alienated

Encrypted/ Cryptographic

English

Hieroglyphic-Egyptian

/nekst/ ‘next’

*/tˀVmVtˀiː/ (dmd.y, NK) ‘united’

*/sit/ (st) ‘it, she’

*/tˀap/ (dp, NK) ‘head’

[unite/dmd:d-y]8

[s-t]

[head/dp-SemIx]

* [d-m-d-y]

[st]

[d-p]

next

nEckst

hc\ /l[snake-bird-snake-plant(2×)] = [[d-m-d-y]]

[dw-spitting] = [[d-p]]

spellings like “hc\ /l-” or “7 %dS” instead of “next” would exemplify encrypted spelling. In the former case one can easily read the spelling based on the knowledge of how “n,” “E,” “ck,” and “t” are used in standard orthography. In the latter case one cannot read the spelling without a list of equations or/and a list of, or conjecture about, possible derivation principles like, e.g., “\ /” = “X” and “l-“ = “t” (splitting), “c” = “e” (pars pro toto), “h” = “n” (plus pro parte). Alienated spellings can still, in a way, be “read,” while encrypted texts need to be “deciphered.”9 However, if we classify not single signs, but sequences of enigmatic signs or even whole texts, the distinction between the three modes becomes more like a continuum. This is because words and texts were often written using a mixture of standard-orthographic, alienated, and encrypted signs (see Tab. 3). For example, in the 2nd hour of the Amduat is alienatthe spelling of dsr (OE ḏsr) ‘sacred’ as [sacred] is missing behind the purely phonologed only in so far as the classifier or ).10 The rest of the sign usages correspond to stanical spellings (cf. dard-orthographic conventions. Similarly, in the spelling of the same word in the , only the initial sign is encrypted ( instead of 5th hour of the Amduat as for [[d]]). The usage of corresponds to standard-orthographic conventions (s). And the spelling of the final consonant with may probably be classified as a case of alienated spelling (in standard orthography a word-final r that developed pho{r}j, of which only remains here; netically into j may optionally be spelled by see Principle #5a, below).

7 For the spellings, see: for dmd.y: LdQ. 68.VII, sim. 149.27 and cf. Amd. 636; for st: DZA 29.663.830– 850, Amd. 349 [compare with 530]; for dp: Wb V, 263, Werning 2004, 196, 197. For the reading of (OE ḏw) as dw, see fn. 37 8 For the system of formal analyses of spellings, see the "note" to the introduction, above. 9 Admittedly, there are border cases in which the classification may vary from one scholar to another, depending on how easy s/he finds the words to read. 10 DZA 31.703.750.

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Daniel A. Werning

Tab. 3: Standard-orthographic vs. alienated vs. cryptographic spelling modes.11 Spelling mode

Standard

Encoding modes

Standard

English

Hieroglyphic-Egyptian

/nekst/ ‘next’

*/tˀusij/ (dsr, NK) ‘sacred’

next

, , [sacred/dsr] [sacred/dsr:r] [sacred/dsr:r-cl] , [ḏ-s-r-cl-cl] [d-s-r-cl-cl]

*/tˀVsɾaw/ (dsr.w, NK) ‘sacredness’

[sacred/dsr:r-w-cl-cl]

(Amd.) [d-s-r-w-cl-cl]

Alienated

Alienated (+ standard)

nɘxt nEckst

[d-s-r]

[knife/ds-rw]

Cryptographic

Encrypted (+ alienated + standard)

nɘxslnckslhc\ /l-

[snake-s-j] = [[d-s-r]]

* [snake-sy-locust-bird-cl] = [[d-s-r-w-cl]]

I use the term “alienated” not only for words and texts in which the spelling of all parts of the word/text is alienated in some respect, but also for those that are only partially alienated (but that do not contain any encrypted signs). And I use the term “cryptographic” spelling not only for words and texts that are spelled with encrypted signs only, but also for those that are spelled with a mixture of encrypted, alienated, and standard-orthographic signs (but with at least one encrypted sign). In samples from Amduat (1st & 4th hours) and Caverns (5th tableau), I computed that the enigmatic spellings in Amduat outside 4th/5th hours (1st–3rd, 6th–12th hours) exhibit only approximately 20 % cryptographic words, while in the 4th/5th hours cryptographic spellings amount to 60 %. In Caverns, 75 % of the enigmatic words are spelled cryptographically.12

2.3 Ciphertext and plaintext In some of the scenes in the Netherworld Books, the enigmatic spellings are accompanied by a “gloss” that presents the same message in standard orthography (see, e.g., Figs. 1–2; for an interpretation of their function, see Section 6, below). Borrowing the terminology from cryptography research, I use the terms “ciphertext” and

11 For the spellings, see: for dsr: DZA 31.703.740–770, Amd. 215, 442; for dsr.w: DZA 31.718.850– 880, Amd. 588. 12 Werning 2008, 130, Tab. 1.

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Fig. 1: Alienated spellings and plaintexts in the 1st hour of the Amduat in the tomb of Tutankhamun (Photo: Theban Mapping Project, image database, no. 14898; C = ciphertext, P = plaintext).

Fig. 2: Cryptographic spellings and plaintexts in scene LVIII from the Book of Caverns in the tomb of Ramses VI (Photo: Theban Mapping Project, image database, no. 15085; C = ciphertext, P = plaintext).

“plaintext,” respectively. The following table (Tab. 4) summarizes basic information on some important enigmatic texts from the New Kingdom Netherworld Books. This article is predominately informed by those texts in which ciphertext and plaintext occur side by side, i.e., by the Amduat and the Book of Caverns (Werning 2008). The Enigmatic Netherworld Books scenes, however, use a system which is very similar to that in Caverns.

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Tab. 4: Basic information on enigmatic spellings in selected Netherworld Books. Dating (prob.)13

Text parts

Spelling of ciphertext

With/without plaintext

Amduat, 1st–3rd, 6th–12th hours

15th c. BCE

Names mostly

Alienated mostly

Mostly ciphertext & plaintext

Amduat, 4th–5th hours

15th c. BCE

Names mostly

Cryptographic mostly

Mostly ciphertext & plaintext

Enigmatic Netherworld Books scenes

Late 14th c. BCE and later

Complete text

Cryptographic mostly

Ciphertext only

Book of Gates, judgement scene

Late 14th c. BCE

Complete text

Cryptographic mostly

Ciphertext only

Books of Earth scenes, Cenotaph of Seti I

Early 13th c. BCE Complete text

Cryptographic mostly

Ciphertext only

Book of Caverns, 5th–6th tableaus

13th c. BCE

Cryptographic mostly

Mostly ciphertext & plaintext

Names mostly

3 Enigmatic encoding 3.1 Generative principles of enigmatic encoding In Werning (2008), I enumerated twenty-one generative principles of enigmatic encoding as reasonably securely established through a comparison of the ciphertext– plaintext pairs in the Amduat and the Book of Caverns. This list is reproduced below, partially revised, and with examples for each principle (the basic numbering system is left unchanged).

(Principle #1) Keeping/usage of standard-orthographic signs The regular or occasional usage of signs according to their standard-orthographic function (cf. Section 2.2, above). (Ex. 1) ʿ in [plant-ʿ-locust-ȝ-ṯ-(2×)snake] = [[j-ʿ-r-w-t-ï&cl]] jʿrwt.ï ‘the uraeus-shaped one’ (LdQ. 78.23, RVI; Ex. 62, below); (Ex. 2)

s in

Frequently:

[snake-s-j] = [[d-s-r]] dsr ‘sacred’ (Amd. 442). , , ,

13 See fn. 2, above.

, and

(Werning 2008: 126; cf. also Section 3.2, below).

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(Principle #2) Exchange of a phonogram for a homophone alternative The exchange of a phonogram for another, often less common, standard-orthographical phonogram for the same consonant(s). (Ex. 3)

n instead of

(e.g., Amd. 356, LdQ. 78.18);

(Ex. 4)

sȝ instead of

in ciphertext sȝq (Amd. 543);

(Ex. 5)

mt 14 instead of

in ciphertext mtr.w (Amd. 619);

bjt ([red_crown/bjt]) instead of (Ex. 6) (Amd. 190); (Ex. 7)

ẖ15 instead of

(Ex. 8) ṯ instead of

in ciphertext bj.t ‘red crown’

in ciphertext ẖpȝ.y (LdQ. 63.V); in ciphertext ṯr.y (LdQ. 151.46, 151.44) and, similarly,

tï instead of * (*/tiː/) for (Ex. 9) jmnt.ï and jȝbt.ï (LdQ. 62.V).16

(cf., e.g., Amd. 285, 471), e.g., in ciphertexts

(Principle #3) Extension of sign functions Classifiers, phono-repeaters, or logograms are used as regular logograms or phonograms.

(#3a) Usage of a classifier as a logogram (Ex. 10) Plaintext [ʿ-p-cl] ʿp(j) ‘to pass by’ → ciphertext (Ex. 11) Plaintext LdQ. 76.4).

(Amd. 435/437);

[r-m-y-t-cl] rm.yt ‘tears’ → ciphertext

(Amd. 288, cf.

For more examples from Amduat, see Werning (2008: 152).

14 Gardiner 1957, 469. Attested since the Pyramid Texts (knm.t, Wb V, 132.8, DZA 30.607.560–590). 15 For the fossilized Old Egyptian usage of for ẖ, see Kammerzell 2005, 186, 230. 16 For references to examples from the NK, see Werning 2011, I, 108, Werning 2008, 150 [instead of “428.1” read “482.1”]. In Werning (2008, 127), I failed to draw the conclusion that this is rather a case of Principle #2, since it is obviously used in standard orthography occasionally. My earlier explanation as a case of exchange due to phonetic similarity may still account for this usage in standard orthography. However, this is not evidence for a corresponding principle of enigmatic encoding (#5c) anymore. Since there is no other evidence for Principle #5c in Amduat and Caverns, this principle is to be deleted from the list.

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(#3b) “Rebus (proper):” usage of a logogram as a phonogram nt → ciphertext in tfn(w).t ‘Tefnut’ (Amd. 397, 593), derived (Ex. 12) Plaintext from [settlement/nʾt:t-SemIx] nʾ.t ‘settlement.’17 (#3c) “Classifier rebus”: usage of a classifier as a phonogram tf → ciphertext in qrr.t=f ‘his cave’ (LdQ. 70.I; Ex. 57, below), (Ex. 13) Plaintext [t-f-cl] tf ‘to spit;’ derived from ḫntï ‘foremost’ → ciphertext (Amd. 470–471), derived (Ex. 14) plaintext [ḫnt:n:t-ï-cl] ḫntï (a designation for a crocodile). from The (unwritten) glides of verbs ultimae infirmae are here found disregarded (cf. Principle #19, below): nb → ciphertext for nb ‘lord’ (LdQ. 70.I), derived from (Ex. 15) plaintext [n:nb:b-cl] nb(j) ‘to swim’ (cf. DZA 24.945.200). * (#3d) Usage of a phono-repeater 18 as an autonomous phonogram ȝs → ciphertext in dȝs ‘fixation stick’ (Hb. 66.4/5, 7; cf. (Ex. 16) Plaintext * [ȝ-s-ȝs-cl] ȝs ‘to hurry;’ Werning 2011: I, 254), derived from usages like in in ḥtm.yt ‘the destroying one’ (Amd. 557), (Ex. 17) plaintext ḥtm → ciphertext [ḥ:t:ḥtm-ḥtm] (DZA 27.537.730–740). derived from usages like in

(Principle #4) Usage of a characteristic sign of a word for the whole word A characteristic phonogram or logogram may stand for a whole word, including derivational and/or inflectional endings. This is a pars pro toto metonymy on the word level (cf. Principle #7b, below). [ḫpr:r-w-cl-cl] ḫpr.w ‘transformation’ → ciphertext (Ex. 18) Plaintext (Amd. 623–625; see Ex. 67, below); (Ex. 19) plaintext * ẖȝ.t ‘corpse’ (short for (LdQ. 76.9/7; cf. Principle #7a-1, below). (Ex. 20) The usage of ciphertext with * an equation of

[ẖȝ-t-cl]) → ciphertext

for *

for plaintext (see Ex. 44, below) presupposes [j:jmï ẖn:n:nw:w-cl] jm.ï ẖnw ‘the one inside.’

17 This usage is well attested in ḥn.t ‘pelican’ (Wb III, 104.2–3), but surely still exceptional in standard orthography (but cf. the comparable Ex. 5, above). 18 For the term, see fn. 4.

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(Principle #4bis) Abbreviation In Amduat and Caverns, two divine names also occur abbreviated. [ʾs-jr] or [jr-ʾs] ʾsjr ‘Osiris’ → ciphertext [[ʾs]] ʾs(jr) (Ex. 21) Plaintext [[ʾs-r]] ʾs(j)r is attested in (Amd. 561 f., LdQ. 79.28). An unabbreviated spelling Amd. 372, 597.19 (Ex. 22) Plaintext [t:tm] (j.)tm(.w) ‘Atum’ → ciphertext [[j-t]] j.t(m.w) [[j-t-m]] j.tm(.w), see (Amd. 560, 590).20 For the unabbreviated spelling Ex. 73, below.

(Principle #5) Sign exchange/usage inspired by prominent pronunciation changes (#5a) Generalization of prominent pronunciation changes that occurred in specific environments to all environments Generalized usage of a sign that stands for phoneme B of a pronunciation change A > B (attested in various words) under certain conditions, for phoneme A; e.g., (normally */j/ or */V(ʔ)/) for /ɾ/ at any word end justified by the frequent change /ɾ/ > */j/ or */V(ʔ)/ at the end of certain words. r → ciphertext [j] = [[r]] at word ends (note the word(Ex. 23, a–c) Plaintext , and ), e.g., in dsr ‘sacred,’ ȝkr specific spellings that oscillate between , ‘Aker,’ npr ‘Neper,’ ḫp{r}j ‘Khepri’ (Werning 2008: 145, Werning 2013: 243), justified by at the word end due to a change in pronunciation.21

(#5b) Generalized inversion of a prominent pronunciation change Generalized usage of a sign that stands for phoneme A of a pronunciation change (originally /c/) for /t/ A > B (attested in various words), for phoneme B; e.g., justified by the frequent change /c/ > /t/. originally referred to ṯ /c/. Since (Ex. 24) In standard orthography, the signifier /c/ developed into /t/ in many words in the late 3rd mill. BCE (Peust 1999: § 3.9.7), became to actually refer to /t/ in these words. While standard orthography, neverfor /t/ (cf. Gardiner 1957: § 19 with Obs. 2), theless, largely refrained from using the corresponding update of the sign–phoneme relations ( for /c/ and /t/) is wide-

19 For more usages and examples, see Werning 2008, 146. 20 For more examples, see Werning 2008, 149. 21 Probably */iɾ/ > */ij/ or */aɾ/ > */a(ʔ)/, e.g., [[d-s-j]] */tˀuːsij/ < */cˀuːsir/ ‘sacred,’ [ḫ-p-j] */xaːpij/ < */xaːpir/ ‘Khepri,’ but [n-t-j] */naːta(ʔ)/ < */naːcaɾ/) ‘god.’ Cf., however, Peust 1999, 140.

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ly attested in enigmatic texts. In ciphertext–plaintext pairs, replaces the usual alphabetic sign for t /t/, i.e., , e.g., twice in št{ȝ}y.t ‘the mysterious one’ (LdQ. 76.1); ḫr → ciphertext [ẖr] = [[ḫr]] in sḫr.w ‘affairs’ (LdQ. 62.V), justi(Ex. 25) Plaintext fied by an exchange of ẖ for ḫ in certain words.22 Usage of Principle #5a makes the ciphertext seem like an updated spelling (a pronunciation change has occurred), whereas Principle #5b makes the ciphertext look like an old-fashioned spelling (an alleged pronunciation change has not yet occurred). Whether these sound changes have actually occurred in the language history of the specific words in which the respective sign is employed is not always clear in a particular case. However, at least some examples are attested in which the respective sound change has definitely not occurred – hence the notion of “generalization” – e.g., sḫr has never been **sẖr and the feminine ending t has never been **ṯ. Remarks: The sound change d /tˀ/ > t /t/ and is not clearly attested before the 1st millennium BCE.23 Alleged cases of exchanges of d (or ḏ) and t (or ṯ) are therefore dubious. The same holds true for the alleged exchanges of g, q, and k.24 Indeed, all of the respective cases mentioned in Roberson’s Crypt. Lexicon can be explained otherwise (a very few remaining cases are not fully convincing, in my opinion).25 An alleged more fuzzy principle (#5c), mentioned in Werning (2008: 127), according to which signs can be exchanged based on phonetic similarity (rather than attested change) is to be deleted from the list.26

(Principle #6) Generalized replacement of a classifier by less common alternative classifier habitat → ciphertext , in qrr.t ‘cavern,’ dwȝ.t ‘under(Ex. 26, a–c) Plaintext world,’ and *ḥtm(y)t.yt ‘one of the hell’ (see Werning 2008: 146), probably justified habitat and round in qrr.t ‘cavern’ in standard orby the alternative use of thography.

22 E.g., in ẖȝr.t > ḫȝr.t ‘widow’ (DZA 28.191.180); see also Westendorf 1962, § 56, 2. The exact phonetic and/or orthographical processes behind it are not entirely clear, cf. Peust 1999, 115, 117, who doesn’t specifically address the phenomenon of spelling change ẖ > ḫ before the 1st mill. BCE. Note that ḫ */x2/ does not seem to have merged with ẖ */x1/ in sḫr, cf. jr(j) sḫr */iɾVsix2ij/ > ⲉⲣ ⲓ ⲓ */əɾʃiʃi/ (Vycichl 1983, 47, 275; pace an apparent lapsus of a spelling as sẖr in the MK, see DZA 29.529.720, overestimated in Werning 2008, 148). 23 Cf. Peust 1999, 84–85, esp. fn. 72 with reference to earlier deviating views. 24 See Peust 1999, 84–85 and § 3.7. 25 E1, allegedly for *dn in *[[dn:n-7-t-cl]] dn(j).t (cf. Klotz 2012, 24–25); N26, allegedly for *t in *[[ḥtm:t:m]] ḥtm (Manassa 2006, 118–119, Text C, note a). 26 See fn. 16, above.

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Caveat: This phenomenon, however, is attested only in a few instances in Caverns. And, in this text, all locations including the underworld as a whole are conceptualized as caves or caverns. Therefore, this usage of may alternatively be understood not as instances of an encrypted classifier for habitat but as creative usages of for round as a “referent classifier”.27 Except for and Principle #11).

, classifiers are usually omitted in Amduat and Caverns (see

(Principles #7a–d) Sign exchange based on iconic sign shape: (Principle #7a) Categorial sign exchange A plaintext sign that either depicts or signifies one specific object may be exchanged for a sign that depicts or signifies an object of the same category. As I had not yet noticed in Werning (2008), but only in course of mapping the semantic relations (Section 4.2, below), it is usually not just any two members of a category that are exchanged by one another (#7a-2). Rather, it is the sign that stands for the respective category in the standard-orthographic classifier system that is used instead of a bird, snake, quadrumember of this category, i.e., general classifiers like arm stand for signs that exemplify specific members of the ped, plant, and respective category (#7a-1).28 As opposed to the usage of a Generic classifier (#7a-1), Free categorial exchange (#7a-2) is attested much more rarely in Amduat and Caverns. (#7a-1) Generic classifier (Ex. 27, a–b) Plaintext (reed) j → ciphertext [bird], e.g., in jnpw ‘Anubis’ (LdQ. 78.18).

[plant] and

(quail chick) w →

The mirrored exchange is also attested: (Ex. 28) plaintext Ex. 80, below).

ḥn (plant) → ciphertext

[[ḥn]] (reed) in ḥnp.yt (LdQ. 78.21;

(#7a-2) Free categorial exchange Absolutely undisputable examples are hard to find. Possible examples are: (Ex. 29) plaintext (flax wick) ḥ → ciphertext

(tethering rope) (LdQ. 78.21);

27 For this term, see Werning 2015, § 8 (2) with reference to the research of the Berlin classifier research group. 28 For the analysis of some of these classifiers, see the footnotes in Section 4.2.3, below.

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(Ex. 30) plaintext (LdQ. 150.32/35);

(standard loaf of bread) t → ciphertext (conical loaf of bread)

(Ex. 31) plaintext * (legs moving backward; for forward) (LdQ. 78.22).

) → ciphertext

(legs moving

For a detailed discussion, see Section 4.2.3, below. (Principles #7b/c) Meronymic sign exchange A plaintext sign may be exchanged for a sign that is a part of that sign, or, a plaintext sign may be exchanged for a sign that includes this sign. (#7b) Pars pro toto (Ex. 32) Plaintext (LdQ. 62.V);

(eye) jr → ciphertext

(Ex. 33) plaintext skr ‘Sokar’ → ciphertext

(pupil) for jr, e.g., in jr(j).t ‘to deal with’

, derived via

[sokar].

(#7c) Plus pro parte (Ex. 34, a–b) Plaintext (door bolt) s → ciphertext (door bolt & pair of legs) for s, e.g., in sḫr.w ‘affairs’ and psd ‘illuminate’ (LdQ. 62.V). Caveat: Note that nearly all examples for Principle #7b/c from Amduat and Caverns can alternatively be explained otherwise (see Section 4.2.4, below). (Principle #7d) Graphic similarity or identity in hieroglyphic or cursive script A plaintext sign may be exchanged for a sign that looks identical or at least very similar in the hieroglyphic, cursive-hieroglyphic, or hieratic script. I take it that it is generally not enough that – as other contributions put it – the rectangular spaces occupied by the signs are similar (“one low, wide sign for another; one tall narrow sign for another”).29 Generally, the shapes of the exchanged signs must be very similar to each other in a much more specific way.30 (#7d-1) Graphic similarity in hieroglyphic script (Ex. 35) That the ciphertext stands for [[wȝ]] in, e.g., ciphertext wȝmmt.ï (Amd. wȝ after 438 f., 450) is probably because it stands for * [rope], which stands for Principle #7a-1.

29 Roberson 2013, 5; cf. Crypt. Lexicon, § 6.8. 30 Werning 2016b, 72–73.

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(Ex. 36) That / [sun] stands for [[ḥr]] in, e.g., ḥr(.ï).w ‘the ones on’ (Amd. 356; see Werning 2008: 145) is probably because it stands for * [round, pupil&iris], which [eye/jrt] for [face/ḥr, on/ḥr, ḥr] after Principle #7b. stands for * (Ex. 37) That the ciphertext stands for [[turn_around/ʿnn]] in ciphertext ʿnn [[turn_around/ʿnn]], which (LdQ. 78.22) is probably because it stands for * ʿnn after Principle #3a. stands for (Ex. 38) A well attested example outside Amduat and Caverns seems to be the case of ciphertext for plaintext m.31 Other possible examples in Amduat and Caverns are probably to be explained otherwise32 or dubious.33

(#7d-2) Graphic identity in cursive script (Ex. 39) That hieroglyphic hiding, , and honoring all correspond to hieratic (Möller 1927: nos. 2, 39) justifies the usage of for [[hiding/jmn]], e.g., in ciphertext jmnt.ï ‘western’ (LdQ. 62.V). (Simultaneously, all hieroglyphs exhibit men with a similar distinctive arm gesture; cf. Principles #7d-1 and #7a-2.) Caveat: Given the fact that Amduat and Caverns were originally composed in the cursive-hieroglyphic script, eventually with a few hieratic forms,34 individual instances of the exchanges may actually be attributed to unwanted confusions by the copyists.35

(Principle #8) “Principle of the only strong consonant” A phonogram or logogram that contains, besides “weak” consonants (i.e., j, ult.inf. (j), y, w, ult.inf. (w), and ȝ;36 cf. Principle #19, below) only one “strong” consonant stands for this only strong consonant. In Amduat and Caverns, all examples are cases of bi-consonantal signs in which the strong consonant is in initial position (pattern: strong consonant–weak consonant).

31 Darnell 2004, 614; cf. also the hieratic shapes in Möller 1927, nos. 327, 528. 32 For a reanalysis of allegedly for tm (cf. Werning 2008, 149), see Principle #4bis, above. 33 Ciphertext for * [stone] for * [stairs] for [throne, ʾs] (Werning 2008, 146). 34 See Werning 2011, I, 74–77. 35 E.g., the variant of for in LdQ. 78.19, text witness Pet (Werning 2008, 148); cf. the hieratic graphs in Möller 1927, nos. 449, 578. 36 See Principle #19, fn. 49, below. The verbal ult.inf. glides are probably primarily vocalic, rather than consonantal (cf. Werning 2016a, 43).

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(Ex. 40) The sign dw may be used for [[d]] in ciphertext dp ‘head’ (LdQ. 146.5, also Ex. 51, below; note that, in this case, the value of the strong consonant corresponds to the contemporary reading of the NK37). Remark: The principle of “Unrestricted acrophony” (Principle #22), i.e., acrophony of signs with more than one strong consonant, is not attested in Amduat or Caverns, indeed probably not attested in the Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom in general.38

(Principle #9) Onomatopoeia A sign stands for the (cultural-specific) phonological interpretation of a sound issued by an action or animal signified by the sign. spitting for spitting sound, which is phonologically interpreted as */p/ (Ex. 41) and is, therefore, used for [[p]];39 (Ex. 42) locust for its clittering which is phonologically interpreted as */ɾ/ (*[r]?) and, therefore, used for [[r]].40

(Principle #10) Exchange of synonyms Plaintext and ciphertext are connected via two near-synonymic words or phrases. ȝḫ(.w) ‘power’ is nearly synonymous to sḫm ‘power.’ There(Ex. 43) Plaintext fore, [sḫm] may stand for plaintext ȝḫ(.w) (Amd. 118). (Ex. 44) Plaintext jm(ï) ‘the one in’ is nearly synonymous to * jm(.ï) ẖnw ‘the one inside’ (nisbe from m-ẖnw ‘inside’). After additional use of Principle #4 (see above), [ẖn] may stand for [[jm(ï)]], e.g., in the ciphertext [[jmï-pl]] jmï.w (LdQ. 62.V).41 This principle is attested only rarely. 37 Cf. the word ‘mountain:’ OK ḏw /cˀ-w/ > NK dw /tˀ-w/ > Coptic Bⲧⲱⲟⲩ /t(ˀ)ow/ (Werning 2004, 145; DZA 31.568.410–420). The sign also stands for dw, not ḏw, in the alienated spellings for plaintext dmd.w (Amd. 661), and in ḫnd.w for plaintext ḫnd(.w) (Amd. 195, 196; Ex. 72, below). 38 However, in Amduat and Caverns, all cases of the “Principle of the only strong consonant” are, strictly speaking, also cases of acrophony, i.e., the only strong consonant is at the same time the initial consonant. For a more detailed comment on the principle of acrophony in the Netherworld Books, see Werning 2008, 127, fn. 8. 39 Darnell 2004, 44 f. 40 Werning in a paper at the SÄK 2004, Werning 2008, 144; independently, Kurth 2007, 300, en. 43. 41 For more examples, see Werning 2008, 141.

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(Principle #11) Reduction of redundancies Standard orthography often exhibits some “redundancies,” without which the words would still be readable (which, however, accelerate the reading performance and/or disambiguate otherwise ambiguous spellings). Among these redundancies are phonetic complementation (e.g., the spelling [n:ns:s] instead of simply [ns] 42 or [n-s]), phono-repeaters (e.g., the spelling [ȝ-s-ȝs] instead of simply [ȝ-s]), the semogram index43 (e.g., the spelling [divine/nṯr-SemIx] instead of simply [divine/nṯr]), and semantic classifiers (e.g., the spelling [sn:n-t-woman] instead of simply [sn:n-t]). A first step in generating an enigmatic spellings is usually to leave out signs that are redundant to some degree. (Ex. 45) Plaintext Alienated (Ex. 46) Plaintext Alienated

→

[n:ns:s-r-t] [n-s-r-t]

→

[n-h-ȝ-cl land/tȝ-cl-SemIx] nhȝ tȝ (Amd. 658) [n-h-ȝ land/tȝ] (Amd. 659)

(Ex. 47) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

nsr.t (Amd. 143) (Amd. 143)

[ʿ-p-p-cl] ʿpp [ʿ-p-p] [ʿ-spitting-spitting] = [[ʿ-p-p]]

(LdQ. 69.I) (LdQ. 69.I)

(Principles #12–#13bis) Resegmentation A frequent specific variant of the reduction of redundancies (Principle #11) is the resegmentation of the spelling, i.e., the “alphabetic”/mono-consonantal analysis of multi-consonantal phonograms of logograms (#12) or/and the synthesis of alphabetic spellings into multi-consonantal phonograms or logograms (#13). In samples from Amduat (1st hour) and Caverns (5th tableau), I computed that the enigmatic spellings in Amduat exhibit 45 % fully synthesized spellings vs. 20 % alphabetic spellings, whereas the ratio is exactly opposite in Caverns, i.e., 20 % fully synthesized spellings vs. 45 % fully alphabetic spellings.44

(#12) Alphabetic analysis (Ex. 48) Plaintext Alienated →

[t-kȝ:ȝ-y-t-cl] [t-k-ȝ-y-t]

42 For this term, see fn. 4, above. 43 For this term, see Werning 2011, I, 103 or Werning 2015, § 10. 44 Werning 2008, 129–130.

tkȝ.yt

(Amd. 687) (Amd. 687)

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(Ex. 49) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

[land/tȝ-SemIx-cl] [t-ȝ] [t-bird] = [[t-ȝ]]

tȝ

(Ex. 50) Plaintext Alienated

[head/dp-pl] [d-p-pl]

dp.(w) (Amd. 477) (Amd. 477)

[head/dp-SemIx] [d-p] [dw-spitting] = [[d-p]]

dp

[mḥ-t-SemIx] [m-ḥ-t] [bird-ḥ-t] = [[m-ḥ-t]]

mḥt(.ï) (Amd. 435f)

→

(Ex. 51) Plaintext Alienated → Cryptographic → (Ex. 52) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

45

(Amd. 447) (Amd. 447)

(LdQ. 146.5) (Amd. 442) (LdQ. 146.5)46

(Amd. 435f)

For more examples, see Werning (2008: 128–129).

(#13) Spelling synthesis (Ex. 53) Plaintext Alienated →

[s-t] [st]

st

(cf. Amd. 391) (Amd. 349)

(Ex. 54) Plaintext Alienated

[b-n-t-ï] [b-n-tj]

bntï

→

(Amd. 471) (Amd. 471)

(Ex. 55) Plaintext Alienated

[s-m-s-w] [old/smsw]

sms.w

→

(LdQ. 78.17, *α) (LdQ. 78.17)

In the case of synthesis, we occasionally find the intentional violation of the standard-orthographic principle according to which multi-consonantal sign do not cross morpheme boundaries (except for an enumerable number of exceptions, e.g., the case of n.w).47 (Ex. 56) Plaintext Alienated

→

[d-s-r-w-cl-cl] [knife/ds-rw]

dsr.w dsr.w

(Amd. 588) (Amd. 588)

45 The spelling for ‘head’ is attested twice times in alienated spellings in the Amduat (Werning 2004, 196), namely in [d-p-pl] dp.w ‘heads’ (Amd. 477) and [snake-s-j d-p] dsr dp ‘the one with a sacred head’ (Amd. 422). I know of only one case of this spelling outside the enigmatic spellings of the Netherworld Books, namely in pBM 9971 ( [original in cursive hieroglyphs] dsr dp ‘the one with a sacred head,’ first quoted in Werning 2015, § 19). 46 For comparable examples, see Werning 2004, 197. 47 See Werning 2008, 128, fn. 9, with reference to Frank Kammerzell.

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(Ex. 57) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

[q-r-r-t-cl-f] [q-r-r-t-f-cl] [q-locust-locustspitting-cl] = [[q-r-r-tf-cl]]

213

qrr.t=f (LdQ. 70.I) qrr.t=f (LdQ. 70.I)

(#13bis) Recombination Rarely, we find a succession of both principles (#12 > #13). (Ex. 58) Plaintext Alienated

(Ex. 59) Plaintext Alienated

→* →

[unite/dmd:d-w-cl] dmd.w (Amd. 661) [d-m-d-w-cl] [d-m-dw-cl] (Amd. 661)

→* →

[head/dp-t] [d-p-t] [d-sky/pt]

dp.(ï)t

(Amd. 436) (Amd. 435, 438)

The d in dmd.w is part of the spelling segment [unite/dmd:d] in the plaintext, but part of the segment [dw] in the ciphertext. Similarly, p in dp.(ï)t is part of the spelling segment [head/dp] in the plaintext, but part of the segment [sky/pt] in the ciphertext.

(Principles #14–#17) Notation of certain written morphemes by sign multiplication (#14/#15) Notation of , / or / by sign multiplication The doubling of a sign of a word in the ciphertext may indicate a morpheme -y ( ) or -ï ( / ). This is an iconic transfer of the twin-like nature of the respective graphemes onto a sign of the ciphertext. The trebling of a sign of a word in the ciphertext may indicate the consonant w ( , ). This is an iconic transfer of the triple-like nature of the classifier / , which corresponds to both, the masculine plural morpheme -w and the collective/abstractum morpheme -w, onto a sign of the ciphertext. In Amduat and Caverns, it is always the last sign of the ciphertext that is multiplicated. This is in accordance with the final position of the respective morphemes in the words.

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(#14) Notation of a twin-like sign by sign reduplication (#14a) Notation of double leaf ( y) by sign reduplication (Ex. 60) Plaintext [ʿḥʿ:ʿ-y-cl] ʿḥʿy ‘steadfast one’ [ʿḥʿ-y] Alienated →* Cryptographic → ** [2×] → [[ʿḥʿ&y/ï]] ʿḥʿy [š-tȝ-y-cl]

(Ex. 61) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic → ** →

štȝy ‘mysterious one’

(LdQ. 147.15)

(LdQ. 147.15) (Amd.4/5 366)

[š-tȝ-y] [2×] [[š-tȝ&y/ï]] štȝy

(Amd.4/5 366)

Since this phenomenon is, as far as I know, not attested in standard orthography, Principle #14a is to be classified as encryption (rather than as alienation).

(#14b) “Pseudo-dual:” Notation of double stroke ( / ï) by sign doubling (Ex. 62) Plaintext [j-ʿ-r-w-t-ï-cl] jʿrwt.ï (LdQ. 78.23) ‘uraeusshaped one’ [2×] Alienated → ** →* Cryptographic →

[j-ʿ-r-w-t-y/ï&cl] [[j-ʿ-r-w-t-y/ï&cl]] jʿrwt.ï

(LdQ. 78.23)

This principle is also used in standard orthography (Gardiner 1957: § 77) – comparatively rarely, however.

(#15) “Pseudo-plural:” Notation of w ( / ) by sign trebling [ʿḥʿ-w-cl] ʿḥʿ.w ‘location’ (Ex. 63) Plaintext [ʿḥʿ-w] Alienated →* → ** [3×] [ʿḥʿ&w] ʿḥʿ.w →

(Amd. 100)

(Amd. 100)

This principle is also used in standard orthography of certain texts (cf. Gardiner 1957: § 77).

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(#16/#17) Notation of dual or plural by sign multiplication The doubling or trebling of a sign of a word in the ciphertext may indicate a dual or plural number morpheme, i.e., respectively. This phenomenon is well attested in standard orthography with logograms or classifier (cf. Gardiner 1957: § 73). (#16) “Iconic plural:” Notation of plural number ( / [š-tȝ-w-cl-pl] štȝ.w (Ex. 64) Plaintext [š-tȝ-w] Alienated → * → ** [3×] [š-tȝ&w] štȝ.w → (Ex. 65) Plaintext Alienated → * → ** [3×] →

) by sign trebling ‘mysterious (Amd. 104) ones’ (Amd. 104)

[shadow/ šwt:t-cl-pl] [shadow/ šwt-pl]

šw.t ‘shadows’ (trad. “šw.wt”)

(Amd. 605)

[shadow/ šwt&pl]

šw.t

(Amd. 605)

(#17) “Iconic dual:” Notation of the dual number ending ( , ) by sign doubling [d-n-ḥ-w-ï] dnḥ.wï ‘pair of (Amd.4/5 448) (Ex. 66) Plaintext wings’ [d-nḥ-w-ï] Alienated → [2×] →** [d-nḥ&wï/tï] dnḥ.wï (Amd.4/5 448)48 → Note that the phenomenon that only the last part of a phonological spellings of the stem is multiplied does not seem to be well attested for the dual, but only for the plural (cf. Gardiner 1957: §§ 73, 77). (Principle #18) Ordinal numbers by sign multiplication In the Amduat, we find the multiplication of a logographic word spelling (after Principle #4) as a notation of an ordinal number accompanying the word. Note that we occasionally find the notation of cardinal numbers by the multiplication of logo-

48 One text witness for the Amduat, namely User, shows a deviation as far as the two following signs are concerned. Instead of (wp) dnḥ.wï, sȝb šw.t, User reads simply (wp) dnḥ.wï with a “dual” feather classifier. The later reading may theoretically be the one of branch β or even of the archetype α (cf. Werning 2007). However, it is more likely that α contained the lectio difficilior, i.e., wp dnḥ.wï, sȝb šw.t ‘who opens (his) wings, the one with colorful feather(s).’

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grams in standard-orthography (e.g., fd.w nṯr.w, LdQ. 21, Hb. 24.28). Consequently, the multiplication of logograms in enigmatic texts is polysemic (cf. also Principles #14–#17, above). (Ex. 67) Plaintext Cryptographic

[ḫpr:r-w-cl-cl ḫpr.w 4-nw] fd.nw [[ḫprw-4nw/ 4]]

→ → ** [4×] →

[[ḫprw&4nw/ 4]]

‘4th trans- (Amd. 625) formation’

ḫpr.w fd.nw

(Amd. 625)

(Principle #19) Omission/addition of “weak consonants” In standard orthography, “weak consonants” (i.e., j, y, w, and ȝ) and the feminine ending -.t, are occasionally left out for phonetic reasons.49 In enigmatic text, we find that the omission of this set of phonemes/morphemes is generalized as a principle of alienation. [j-r-t] jr.(ï)t (Amd. 150) (Ex. 68) Plaintext [r-t] (*/(ʔ)Vɾiːt/) (j)r.(ï)t (Amd. 150) Alienated → (Ex. 69) Plaintext Alienated

→

(Ex. 70) Plaintext Alienated

→

(Ex. 71) Plaintext

[k-ȝ-m-w-t-t-cl-cl] kȝmwt.(ï)t (Amd. 202) [k-m-t-t] k(ȝ)m(w)t. (Amd. 202) (*/kV(ʔ)muːtiː(t)/) (ï)t [mn:n-y] mn.y [mn:n] (*/mVniː/) mn(.y)

[negation/ jwt.(ï)t jwt:t-t-cl] [j-t-t] Alienated → [[j-t-t]] j(w)t.(ï)t Cryptographic → (*/(ʔ)u(w)tiːt/) For more examples from the Amduat, see Werning (2008: 152).

(Amd. 301) (Amd. 301) (Amd.4/5 437 f.) (Amd.4/5 437 f.)

Rarely, however, we also find the addition of “weak consonants” that are commonly left unwritten in standard orthography.

49 E g., Werning 2015, §§ 5, 17 (5). The “weak” consonants probably correspond to: j /j/~/i ̯/, /ʔ/, vowel indicator; y /j/~/i ̯/~/iː/; w /w/~/u̯ /~/uː/; ȝ /ʀ/ > /j/~/ʔ/ (Werning 2015, § 3; for j as a vowel indicator, cf. also Werning 2016a, Part I, esp. p. 36).

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(Ex. 72) Plaintext

[ḫ-n-d-stairs]

ḫnd(.w)

217

(Amd. 195, 196) (DZA 27.​ 982.​020– 030) (Amd. 195, 196)

“Plene” spelling

→

[ḫ-n-d-w-stairs]

Alienated

→

[ḫ-n-dw] (*/ɣVntˀuː/)

ḫnd.w

[t:tm] [j-t:tm]

(j.)tm(.w)

(LdQ. 77.15) (cf. Wb I, 144)

j.tm(.w)

(LdQ. 77.15)

(Ex. 73) Plaintext “Plene” →* spelling Alienated →* Cryptographic →

[j-t-m] [[j-t-m]] (*/(ʔ)atuːmV/)

(Principle #20) Sign sequence inversion The local inversion of sign sequences is but rarely attested in Amduat and Caverns. (Ex. 74) Plaintext Cryptographic → (Ex. 75) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

[colorful/ sȝb šw.t sȝb feather/šwt] [feather/ šwt colorful/sȝb]

(Amd.4/5 448) (Amd.4/5 448)

[q-r-r-t-cl-f] [q-r-r-t-f-cl] [[q-r-r-tf-cl]]

(LdQ. 70.I)

qrr.t=f

[ʿ-b-b-j-j] ([ʿ-b-b-y]) ʿbb.y [ʿ-b-j-b-j] [ʿ-bee/bjt-bee/bjt] = [[ʿ-bj-bj]]50 → [ʿ-locust-locust] = [[ʿ-bj-bj]] (The latter explanation is questionable.)

(Ex. 76) Plaintext Cryptographic → * →*

(LdQ. 70.I) (LdQ. 70.I)

(LdQ. 70.I)

(Principle #21) Conceptual association Conceptual association of a plaintext word or phrase with a ciphertext sign is a major principle of “aesthetic cryptography” (mentioned in Section 2.1). In Amduat and Caverns, however, this principle is attested only rarely. 50 See the discussion in Werning 2008, 132, fn. 17. Note that cannot stand for b alone (by Principle #8), since this interpretation would only lead to a reading ʿb.y, not ʿbb.y (by Principle #14a).

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(Ex. 77) Plaintext Cryptographic →

[land/tȝ-cl-SemIx] [tatenen] = [[land/tȝ]]

tȝ

‘land’ (Amd.4/5 356) (Amd.4/5 356)

The association of tȝ ‘land’ with the earth god tȝ-twnn ‘Tatenen’ justifies the usage of the semogram [tatenen] for [[land/tȝ]].51 This usage is also attested as a part [[land/ of a nisbe derivation of the word tȝ ‘land,’ namely in the spelling [land/tȝ-y-t] tȝ.yt ‘the one (in) the earth’ tȝ-y-t]] for the designation * (LdQ. 73.I).52 (Ex. 78) Plaintext Cryptographic →

[haed/dp-SemIx dp-rʿ ‘head (LdQ. 79.28,30) sun_god/rʿ-SemIx] of Ra’ [ram’s_head/šft (LdQ. 79.28,30, sun_god/rʿ] = [[dp-rʿ]] *α)

The association of dp-Rʿ ‘the head of Ra’ with a ‘ram’s head’ ( usage of an image of a ram’s head for dp(-Rʿ) ‘head (of Ra).’ (Ex. 79) Plaintext Cryptographic → * →

[r-mn:n-arm]

rmn(.w)

[r-mn:n-arm] [t] = [[rmnw]]

rmn(.w)

) motivates the

‘bearer, (Amd. 204) support’ ‘side, half’ (Amd. 204)

The association chain rmn(.w) ‘bearer’ – rmn(.w) ‘half’ justifies the usage of an image of a half of a circle ( ) for rmn(.w). (This interpretation is questionable.)

(Principle #22) Unrestricted acrophony The usage of a sign that stands for more than one “strong” consonant in standard orthography (cf. Principle #8) for only the first of these consonants is not attested in Amduat and Caverns.53 Some of these principles behind enigmatic spellings tend to produce alienated spellings, others tend to produce encrypted spellings (cf. Table 7 in the appendix). The principles mentioned in the following lists are ordered in a tentative sequence of token frequency (from frequent to rare).

51 Note there is an additional meronymic relation of the two phonological interpretations tȝ and tȝ-twnn/tȝ-ṯnn. 52 In Werning (2008, 132), I erroneously translated this designation as ‘Tait.’ For the correct interpretation, see Werning 2011, II, 271. In the plaintext, the designation is misspelled as (LdQ. 73.I). 53 Cf. the discussion in Darnell 2004, 453, Werning 2008, fn. 8 [127–128], Roberson 2013, 6–7.

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Principles that produce alienated spellings are: (#11) Reduction of redundancies (#12/#13) Resegmentation: spelling analysis, synthesis, and recombination (#14b–#17) Notation of (pseudo-)dual/plural by sign multiplication (#2) Exchange of a phonogram for a homophone alternative (#19) Omission/addition of “weak” consonants (#3b) “Rebus (proper)”: usage of a logogram as a phonogram (#3d) Usage of a phono-repeater as an autonomous phonogram

Principles that, depending on the specific case, generate alienated or encrypted spellings are: (#5) Sign exchange inspired by prominent pronunciation changes (#3a) Usage of a classifier as a logogram (#3c) “Classifier rebus”: usage of a classifier as a phonogram (#20) Sign sequence inversion Principles that nearly always generate encrypted spellings are: (#8) “Principle of the only strong consonant” (#7) Sign exchange based on graphic sign shape (#9) Onomatopoeia (#14a) Notation of double leaf ( ) by sign reduplication (#21) Conceptual association (#4) Usage of a characteristic sign of a word spelling for the whole word (#4bis) Abbreviation (#10) Exchange of synonyms (#6) Generalized replacement of a classifier by a less common alternative classifier (#18) Ordinal numbers by sign multiplication Not attested in the corpus: (#22) Unrestricted acrophony

3.2 The crypto-alphabet In cryptographic spellings in the Netherworld Books, we find the repeated usage of a set of mono-consonantal signs for the basic Egyptian phonemes (examples in Figures 3 and 4). I suggested to call this set the “crypto-alphabet.” In a sample from Caverns, I computed that approx. 40 % of the cryptographic words are exclusively spelled with this crypto-alphabet (eventually plus one of the classifiers , , or ).54 54 Werning 2008, 130.

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Fig. 3: Usage of the “crypto-alphabet” in the 5th tableau the Book of Caverns in the tomb of Ramses VI (Photo Theban Mapping Project, image database, no. 15153).

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Fig. 4: Usage of the “crypto-alphabet” on one of the shrines of Tutankhamun (Piankoff & Rambova 1955: fig. 41).

The following table enumerates this basic alphabet (Table 5): Table 5. Egyptian phonemes and their encoding in the “crypto-alphabet”.55 Phoneme

Ciphertext

ȝ j y ï ʿ w b p f

, (sign redupl.) (sign redupl.), , (1× ?) (1× ), ...56

Phoneme

Ciphertext

Phoneme

m n

q k

r

g

h ḥ ḫ ẖ s š

, (1×

?)

t ṯ d ḏ

Ciphertext

n.a. ,(

), ( )

, (1×

)

/ ,

Table 8 in the appendix identifies the generation principles underlying the signs of this crypto-alphabet. The by far most commonly used principle is Categorial sign bird, / exchange, more specifically (#7a-1) Generic classifiers ( / / →

55 Cf. Werning 2008, Tab. 2. For references, see the list in Werning 2008, 136–152. 56 For dubious instances of other signs for b, see: (a) in LdQ. 62.V, sTji has (arm&fist), but RVI has an unidentifiable , probably erroneously for ? (see fn. 70, below); (b) in LdQ. 151.40, Pet has [bȝ], but RVI has (cf. Werning 2008, 151 [Y1]).

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→ snake, → plant, → / cloth, * → quadruped, > bread & → * rope) and, used only rarely, (#7a-2) Free categorial exchange ( → cake, [loafs of bread], → [ropes]). With four times, (#8) the Principle of the only strong [[b]] via *bj.t, [[s]] via sy), two consonant follows ( [[ḫ]] via ḫy, [[k]] via *kȝ, *bjt). examples of which simultaneously make use of (#3c) Classifier rebus ( ḫy, The principle (#7c) Plus pro parte may account for up to three cases, probably as alternative/supporting generation principle only (see the discussion in Section 4.2; → , → , → ). The use of a (#2) Homophone phonogram alternative is attest→ , → ). The other attested principles are employed ed three times ( → , two times each: (#5b) Inversion of pronunciation change/Update of sign readings ( [[t]] < [ṯ], < * [[d]] < [ḏ]), (#9) Onomatopoeia ( [[p]], [[r]]), (#14) Twin-like sign by reduplication (for and ). Principle (#3b) Rebus (proper) may account for a usage attested only once ( [[d]] via [give/d(j)]). Four phonemes seem to be (#1) regularly represented like in standard orthography ( , , , ).

3.3 Generation of ciphertexts in Amduat and Caverns In Werning (2008), I argued that the ciphertexts attested in Amduat and Caverns are best explained as being based on corresponding standard-orthographic texts (plaintexts), on which certain encoding principles had been applied. Compare, for for plaintext (Amd. 366), which presupposes the example, the spelling twin-like shape of (see Principle #14a, above), and the spelling of the word ḥnp.yt [reed-n] = [[ḥn:n]] for ḥn (Ex. 80), which presupposes a spelling of the word with with a phonetic complement, i.e., [ḥn:n]. (Ex. 80) Plaintext Alienated →* Cryptographic →

[ḥ:ḥn:n-p-y-t-cl] [ḥn:n:ḥ-p-y-t-cl] [[ḥn:n:ḥ-p-y-t-cl]]

ḥnp.yt (LdQ. 78.21) (LdQ. 78.21)

That is to say that an author of a ciphertext had a standard-orthographic spelling of the respective words in mind, or even on papyrus, and applied one or more of the encoding principles on this spelling.57 Indeed, I believe that the plaintexts in Amduat and Caverns are not interpretations of the respective ciphertexts, but, conversely, the plaintexts were the basis on which the ciphertexts were created.

57 In how far encryptions in other texts are dependent on an (imagined) written plaintext needs a separate treatment. Especially ciphertexts that exclusively make use of the crypto-alphabet (see Section 3.2) do not presuppose an (imagined) plaintext spelling as a starting point, but can instead be derived from an (imagined) phonemic analysis of a word form, theoretically. Cf. Drioton’s 1940, 402 f. evaluation for the case of “monumental,” i.e., “aesthetic” cryptography.

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Taken that this is the case, the process of encryption of whole words often needs to be described as a multi-step process (cf. the examples in Section 3.1, above). A first step is often one of alienation of the spelling, notably a reduction of redundancies (#11), a spelling analysis (#12) or synthesis (#13), and/or an omission of “weak for tȝ ‘land’ consonants” (#19).58 For example, the transformation of the spelling [t-bird] = [[t-ȝ]] implies an intermediate step of an “alphabetic” analysis into (Principle #12, Ex. 49, above). And the transformation of the word as t plus ȝ = * qrr.t=f ‘his cave’ into with for tf (#13 and #3c) presupposes of → * (Principle #20, Ex. 75, above).59 a local sign inversion The application of more than one alienating principle is well attested, e.g., alphabetic analysis plus reduction of redundancies. The application of two or more encrypting principles in a row, however, does not seem to be very well attested in my corpus (but cf. Ex. 37, Ex. 76, and the examples for Principle #4bis). Therefore, I tend to take explanations of enigmatic usages of signs that include more than one step of encryption as less convincing than explanations that include not more than one step of encryption.

4 Semiotic analysis of selected ciphers Scholarly descriptions of Egyptian ciphers speak of, e.g., “direct representation,” “metonymic” relations, or substitutions of signs of the same or similar “kind” or “class.”60 But which parts of the two involved signs, i.e. the ciphertext and the plaintext, are actually involved? Is it, for example, the object depicted by the hieroglyph, is it the hieroglyph itself, or is it what the hieroglyph stands for? In order to look at the semiotic connections between ciphertext signs and plaintext signs more precisely, I try to trace the connection on suited semiotic diagrams. It turns out that the connections are often not as uniform within groups as initially expected.

4.1 A semiotic diagram for Egyptian sign usages Semiotic sign models generally include a “materialized” signifier (F. de Saussure 1916: “signifiant,” Ch.K. Ogden & I. A. Richards 1923: “symbol,” Ch.S. Peirce 1839– 1914: “representamen”) and a concept that the signifier refers to (Saussure: “signi-

58 Werning 2008, 128. 59 Note that this case is an inversion of a classifier and a mono-consonantal suffix pronoun, which is to be classified as (only) an alienation, rather than encryption. 60 E.g., Darnell 2004, 4 “direct representation,” 8 “substitutio[n] of kind,” likewise Manassa 2006, 112; Roberson 2013, 5 “signs of similar classes,” appendix: “direct representation”; Crypt. Lexicon, § 6.4 (“Direct representation, [...], metonymy”).

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Fig. 5: Basic semiotic diagram (license: CC BY-SA 4.0, Daniel A. Werning).

fié,” Ogden & Richards: “thought/reference,” Peirce: “immediate object” and “interpretant”). Some of them also account for a “real” world object to which the concept is related (Ogden & Richards: “referent,” Peirce: “dynamic/real object”).61 Direct references of signifiers to objects are comparatively rare. Compare Figure 5. For our specific case of Egyptian hieroglyphic enigmatic spellings, however, we need to expand these kernel diagrammatic models in two respects. Firstly, due to the iconic nature of the hieroglyphic signifiers, we need to understand the signifier as an object of another sign. Secondly, we need to account for the fact that the hieroglyphic signifiers may not only relate to (mental) concepts, but also to phonological signifiers, i.e., we need a model diagrams in which written and spoken signifiers are represented. Compare Figure 6.

Fig. 6: Expanded semiotic diagram (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

61 Cf. Nöth 2000, 137–141. I understand that Peirce’s “immediate object” is a concept, rather than a referent (cf. Nöth 2000, 63/64, 489)

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Fig. 7: The three principle Hieroglyphic Egyptian sign functions (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

For the three principle Hieroglyphic Egyptian sign functions,62 different parts of these diagrams are relevant (Figure 7).

4.2 Semiotic analysis of selected generative principles of enigmatic encoding In the following, I revisit some of the above mentioned generative principle of enigmatic spellings (Section 3.1) and evaluate important examples on the semiotic diagrams developed in the preceding section.

4.2.1 Principles operating on the phonetic level (Principles #2, #5, #8) The first two figures map two ciphertext–plaintext pairs that are connected on the [ṯ] for [[t]] /t/ after Principle #5b (Generphonetic level. Figure 8 maps the use of alized inversion of a prominent pronunciation change). Figure 9 maps the use of [dw] for [[d]] /tˀ/ after the Principle of the only strong consonant (cf. Principle #8, above). Note that levels of the signs other than the phonetic level are not involved.

62 See Werning 2015, § 14. For an overview over functional categorizations of different scholars, see Polis & Rosmorduc 2015.

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Fig. 8: Use of

[ṯ] for [[t]] /t/ after Principle #5b (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

Fig. 9: Use of

[dw] for [[d]] /tˀ/ after Principle #8 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

4.2.2 Onomatopoeia (Principle #9) Figure 10 maps the use of [spitting] for [[p]] /p/ after the Principle of onomatopoeia (see Principle #9, above). Note that it is rather not what the hieroglyph displays (spit coming out of a mouth), but the standard orthographic sign function as a classifier for spitting that builds the bridge (cf. the following section).

Fig. 10: Use of

[spitting] for [[p]] /p/ after Principle #9 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

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4.2.3 Categorial sign exchange (Principle #7a) The diagrams for cases of the principle of categorial sign exchange (see Principle #7a in Section 3.1, above) reveal a fact that has gone unnoticed until now. In most cases, it is not simply what the ciphertext hieroglyph displays, but rather its standard orthographic sign function as a classifier that establishes the link (subtype Principle #7a-1: Generic classifiers). Since the classifiers are usually generic classifiers, the categorial relation is usually a hierarchical one. Figure 11 maps the use 63 [bird] for [[m]] ( ) after Principle #7a-1, and Figure 12 maps the use of of [quadruped 64] for [[k]] (seemingly via * ) after the successive use of the Principles #7a-1 and #8 (for the latter, see Fig. 9 above).

Fig. 11: Use of

[bird] for [[m]] ( ) after Principle #7a-1 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

Fig. 12: Explanation for the usage of CC BY-SA 4.0).

[quadruped] for [[k]] via *

after Principle #7a-1 (license:

63 Sign Gardiner G39 (duck), rather than G38 (goose): cf. Goldwasser 2002, 16, 19, Lincke 2011, 25– 28. 64 Goldwasser 2002, 31, Lincke 2011, 27.

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Fig. 13: Use of [reed leaf] for [[ḥn]] ( ) as a mirrored use of Principle #7a-1 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

Cases of usage of Generic classifiers in Amduat and Caverns are:65 [bird] for [[ȝ]], derived via (eagle), [[w]] via (quail chick), [[m]] via (owl), [[bȝ]] via (stork), [[ḥtm]] via (goose); 66 [snake] for [[f]], derived via (viper), [[ḏ]] and [[d]] via (cobra), [[cobra]] via (cobra with shield); [quadruped] for [[k]], seemingly derived via * (bull); [plant] for [[j]], derived via (reed leaf), and for [[y]], derived via ; [arm] for [[ʿw]], derived via (arm&hand); [bread&cake] for [[t]], derived via (loaf of bread); [bread] for [[t]], derived via (loaf of bread); [cloth] for [[s]], derived via (folded piece of cloth); [fish] for [[ẖȝ]], derived via (oxyrhynchus fish); for * [rope] for [[wȝ]], derived via (lasso). [[ḥn:n:ḥ-p-y-t-cl]] for The case of (reed leaf) for [[ḥn]] ( [plant]) in plaintext (LdQ. 78.21) seems to be a mirrored version of the use of [plant] for [[j]] ( ) after Principle #7a-1 (see above). Here it is the plaintext sign that is the classifier (plant) (Figure 13). Another example like this is a case of (tethering rope) for [[w]] ( via * [rope]; cf. LdQ. 151.41). A possible example for Free categorial exchange (Principle #7a-2) is the case of (tethering rope) for [[ḥ]] (flax wick ) in [[ḥn:n:ḥ-p-y-t-cl]] for plainḥnp.yt (LdQ. 78.21; Ex. 80, above) (Figure 14). These are cases of cattext egorial relations that do not operate with the function of one of the involved hieroglyphs as a classifier, but instead establish a link between what the hieroglyphs display on both sides of the equation. Differently from the case of the usage of Generic classifiers (#7a-1), Free categorial exchange (#7a-2) is usually not hierarchical.

65 For references, see the list in Werning 2008, 136–152. 66 Goldwasser (2002, 57, fn. 3) suggested a broader meaning, captured in the artificial term sworm (= snake&worm).

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229

Fig. 14: Use of (tethering rope) for [[ḥ]] (flax wick ) after Principle #7a-2 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

Note that all possible examples for Free categorial exchange in Amduat and Caverns are not absolutely indubitable: (tethering rope) for [[ḥ]], derived via (flax wick) (LdQ. 78.21);67 (conical loaf of bread) for [[t]], derived via (standard loaf of bread) (LdQ. 150.32/ 35);68 (legs moving forward) for [[turn_around/ʿnn]], derived via (legs moving backward) (LdQ. 78.22);69 (arm&fist) for [[b]], derived via (leg&foot) (LdQ. 62.V, sTji);70 (locust) for [[bj]], seemingly derived via * (bee) (see the discussion of Ex. 76, above); (pedestal?) for [[ʾs]], probably derived via (throne) (Werning 2008: 146). The uses of (eagle) for [[w]] ( quail chick) and [[m]] ( owl) especially in the [bird] tomb of Ramses VI71 are probably secondary deviations from an original or ; due to an unintended confusion of cursive-hieroglyphic sign forms ( : : or ).72

4.2.4 Meronymic iconic relations (Principle #7b/c) According to the Principle #7b/c, ciphertext signs and plaintext signs may be connected meronymically (parts pro toto, plus pro parte) on the iconic level. Comparing the diagrams for the respective cases in Amduat and Caverns, the question arises

67 The designation ḥnp.yt is probably a misspelling for *ḥnṯ.yt with an original * ṯ (Werning 2011, II, 254). 68 The plaintext spelling tn.(w) is probably a misspelling for *dn.(w) with an original * d (Werning 2011, II, 419, note b). 69 Alternatively, this case can be explained as a case of Principle #6 or Principle #7d-1. 70 LdQ. 62.V, in jȝbt.ï: sTji has (Maspero 1914, 314), but RVI has , probably incomplete for (?) (Theban Mapping Project, image database, RVI_DSC_0093); cf. Werning 2008, 139 [D36], 151 [Y1]. 71 Cf. Werning 2008, 142. 72 Cf. Werning 2011, I, 75–77. The sign shapes presented here mostly come from the papyrus of Ani.

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Fig. 15: Use of

for [[s]] (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

Fig. 16: Use of

for [[s]] (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

on exactly which level of the sign the principles actually establish the connection: Is it the hieroglyphic grapheme as a graphic element itself or is it what the hieroglyphs displays? Or, is it actually not the iconic level, but what the hieroglyph stands for, i.e., their standard-orthographic functions (or all of the levels, or one level in one case, but another in another case)? The main problem for the analysis is that nearly all candidates for Principle #7b/c in Amduat and Caverns exhibit also connections between the respective ciphertext and plaintext signs other than after Principle #7b/c (see Table 9 in the appendix). Consequently, it is problematic to derive definite conclusion for Principle #7b/c from it. and For example, the possible explanations of the usages of for [[s]] via for [[s]] via are contested by explanations via the well established Principle #8 (Only strong consonant) and Principle #7a-1 (Generic classifier), respectively (Figures 15–16). Notably, the possible case of for cannot be taken as a definite proof that Principle #7b/c may also work on the level of what the hieroglyphs display,

Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books

Fig. 17: Use of

231

for [jr] (license: CC BY-SA 4.0)

rather than on the purely graphic level (note that does not contain in full, but only parts of it 73 – consequently, an equation of the two presupposes an identification of what is displayed). A well attested and illustrative possible example is the usage of for [[jr]], [[eye/ .74 However, besides an obvious meronymic relation jrt]], and [[see/watch]] via ), there is seemingly also one on the functional level on the graphemic level ( – is which could account for the usage (cf. Principle #21–1, Section 4.2.5, below): a logogram for [eye/jrt] and obviously serves as a classifier for [iris&pupil]75 in standard orthography (compare Figure 17 and Fig. 18, below). The case of the use of for [[sokar/skr]] is probably instructive since does not seem to be used in standard orthography as far as I can see.76 The grapheme seems to be a new creation, derived from the sign . If this is correct, the case would verify that the Principle #7b/c primarily operates on the graphic level, rather than on the level of what is being displayed by the hieroglyph. This would also

73 Another possible case, the example of for [red_crown/bjt], is not derived via (as suggested in Werning 2008, 148 based on DZA 22.816.850–860, Wb I, 425.21), but rather a simple case of Homophone alternative (#2), cf. for [red_crown/bjt] in the spellings of bjt.ï and nzw-bjt as designations for the king (Wb I, 425, DZA 22.810.540–560; Wb II, 330). 74 The case of for [[watch/ptr]] is not derived via (as suggested in Werning 2008, 137), but rather a simple case of Classifier rebus (#3c), cf. the standard-orthographic spelling in Amd. 385, 390. Accordingly, the case of for [[see/watch]] is not derived via but via . 75 This interpretation is suggested by its usage as a classifier in ḏfḏ ‘pupil (of an eye)’ (Gardiner 1957, 451; DZA 31.629.670) and (or sim.) mȝȝ ‘see’ (DZA 23.636.670–780). However, the interpretation is probably misleading. Indeed the same shape is used as a classifier for round (Gardiner 1957, 538, pace 451), which could also account for those cases in which it allegedly is used as a classifier for iris&pupil (and, at least in Hieratic, also grain). If one accepts this reanalysis that stands for round only, the case of for [[jr]] would confirm Principle #7b/c operating exclusively on the graphic level (note that is impossible for the reader to identify the hieroglyph as any specific object, e.g., pupil or grain, just from the shape, especially in enigmatic spellings). 76 The sign is not listed in Gardiner (1957) (for the exact shape, cf., e.g., Amd. 445). There is only a similar sign [Hieroglyphica code H10] in a Ptolemaic sign list (Valeurs phonétiques II, p. 339), without indication of its function.

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suggest that the one hieroglyph must fully contain the other (without parts being cut away). However, what the hieroglyph displays does not always, but still most often, naturally establish a secondary link between ciphertext and plaintext.

4.2.5 Conceptual association (Principle #21) A ciphertext glyph and its plaintext may be connected by conceptual association. This principle is rarely attested in Amduat and Caverns, but frequent in “aesthetic cryptography.” Cases of Conceptual association can be further sub-categorized based on the nature of the associative connection. Joshua Roberson, e.g., now singles out cases of “metonym[ic]” connections form cases of iconic connections (“direct representation [proper]”).77 Another way to categorize cases of Conceptual association is based on the question which parts of the ciphertext sign and the plaintext are involved. There are cases in which the connection is established via a standard-orthographic function of the ciphertext sign (variant #21–1), e.g., the case of [tatenen] for [[land/tȝ]] (Figure 18, cf. also Fig. 17, above) and cases in which one needs to (half interpret what the ciphertext sign displays (variant #21–2), e.g., the case of a circle) for [[rmn(.w)]] ‘bearer; half’ (Figure 19, cf. also Fig. 13, above). However, there are probably more variants. Another case of the principle variant #21–1 (association via standard-ortho[hair] for [[ḥr(.ï) dp]] ‘the one on top;’ graphic sign function) from other texts is another cases of the principle variant #21–2 (association via interpretation of the grapheme) is (Hathor) via her epithet nb(w).yt ‘the one of gold’ for [[nb(w)]] ‘gold.’78

Fig. 18: Use of

(Tatenen) for [[land/tȝ]] after Principle #21 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

77 Crypt. Lexicon, § 6.4. Furthermore, Roberson singles out cases of (metonymic) connections in which the connection is attested in divine epithets (“antonomasia”). In how far “sportive writings” alias “visual puns” (op.cit., § 6.9) are different form “direct representation” and “metonymy” remains unclear to me. 78 Examples taken from Crypt. Lexicon, signs D3, C228.

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Fig. 19: Use of

233

for [[rmn(.w)]] ‘bearer’ after Principle #21 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0).

4.3 Relevance of iconic aspects of the hieroglyphs for enigmatic encodings In the preceding section, I evaluated important principles of enigmatic ciphertext generation based on interpretative semiotic diagrams. In the context of research on the Egyptian script as an iconic script, it is interesting to ask in how far the iconic nature of the script is relevant for the generation of enigmatic encodings. A thorough analysis of the principle of Categorial sign exchange (#7a) revealed that at least on one side of the ciphertext–plaintext equation, the iconic aspect is not relevant in most cases (#7a-1 Generic classifiers; Figs. 11–13, above). Furthermore, in case of the examples for Onomatopoeia (#8), the connection can be established on the level of the sign functions, i.e., connections that are independent of the iconic character of the hieroglyphs (Fig. 9). Furthermore, like the Principle of graphic similarity (#7d), the principle of Meronymic sign exchange (#7b/c) seems to equate ciphertext and plaintext hieroglyphs primarily on the graphemic level, without necessarily implying the identification of the graphic elements as “something,” i.e., the iconicity of the sign not always relevant. It is rather a potentially supporting aspect than a mandatory aspect (Section 4.2.4). Borrowing a terminology for mental activation of metaphoricity from Cornelia Müller,79 I suggest to speak of “sleeping,” “dozing,” or “awakened” iconicity if the identification of the iconic grapheme is irrelevant, potentially supporting (but not mandatory), or relevant, respectively. The following Table 6 summarizes the involvements of the sign levels as well as the necessary activation of iconicity in some relevant generation principles.

79 Müller (2008, ch. 6) analyzes the pragmatic activation level of metaphoricity in terms of “sleeping” and “waking.”

(Concept referred to)

What is displayed

(#21–2) Conceptual association via grapheme interpretation

Awakened

Awakened

What is displayed

(#7a-1) Generic classifiers

Sleeping

What is displayed

Hieroglyph as an (identifiable) shape

(#7b/c) Meronymy (on the level of signs)

Hieroglyph as a shape

Sleeping

(#7a-2) Free categorial exchange

Hieroglyph as a shape

(#7d-1) Strong graphic similarity

(Concept referred to)

Sleeping

Awakened

Concept referred to

(#21–1) Conceptual association via sign function

(Concept referred to)

Sleeping

What is displayed

Concept referred to

(#10) Synonymy

(Corresponding phoneme(s))

Sleeping

Concept referred to

Concept referred to

(#9) Onomatopoeia

(Corresponding phoneme(s))

Activation of iconicity

Dozing

Corresponding phoneme(s)

(#2, #5, #8, #22) Phonetic relations

Plaintext

Hieroglyph as an (identifiable) shape

Ciphertext

Principles

Tab. 6: Ciphertext–plaintext connection possibly on the iconic level after Principle #7b/c.

​

​

​

​

​

​

– jmï

– p ( ), –r( ),

– sȝ ( ), – t ( ), –d( )

​ ​

,

,

– rmn(.w), – dp(-rʿ)

– ,

– –

– –

​ –

​

​ – * (– ), ​ – * (– )

​ – tȝ

​

​

Examples

234 Daniel A. Werning

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235

5 Semiotic analysis of an Egyptian signifier for ‘cryptogram’ In the Book of Caverns, we repeatedly find a string of typical cryptographic signs which long defied a convincing interpretation.80 Most instances testify for a basic [bird-bird-bird-quadruped-locust], while two instances spelling ).81 The seem to add an additional classifier , seemingly for writing ( string stands before some cryptographic text passages, for which no corresponding plaintext is attested. In Werning (2008: 133 f.), I argued that the meaning of this cryptogram is ‘cryptogram’ itself. (Its original function in context may have been to explicitly signal to the copyist that a cryptographic text is following, demanding special care during the process of copying.) as a signifier for ‘cryptogram’ is correct, Taken my interpretation of this case exhibits a remarkable case of semiotic relations. Indeed the form of the signifier is neither motivated by a spoken designation for ‘cryptogram’ – whatever this may be – nor by the concept referred to, but rather by the objects referred to, i.e., the actual or potential instantiations of cryptographic texts. The signifiexhibits a direct relation to its objects/referents (Figures 20/21; er compare Section 4.1). Note that the signs picked for this string are simultaneously characteristic for the crypto-alphabet, on the one hand, and representative for the encryption principles as testified in the crypto-alphabet, on the other hand (Section 3.2, above). The exemplifies the principle of Generic classifiers ( for the basic alphapart ȝ, w, and m). The exemplifies the latter princibetic graphemes/phonemes ple, too. However, it also exemplifies the Principle of the only strong consonant ([[k]] kȝ). Finally, the exemplifies the principle of Onomatopoeia. Therefrom for * fore, the string is not only characteristic for cryptograms, but also representative for encryption as a practice, i.e., for cryptography in a more general sense.

80 None of the permutations of securely attested readings for the respective signs seems to leads to a convincing interpretation that makes sense in context: [[ȝ-w-m-k-r]], [[m-ȝ-w-k-r]], ..., [[bȝ-w-ȝk-r]] (bȝ.w ȝkr?), [[m-ȝ-w-kȝ-r]] (mȝ.w kȝr?). For an evaluation of the cryptographic readings based on which John Darnell suggests to read bȝ.w jmy.w, see Werning 2008, 133, fn. 21. Furthermore, a reading as bȝ.w jmy.w also does not make sense to me in the respective contexts (cf. the occurrences mentioned in Werning 2011, II, 475). 81 For the individual spellings and references, see Werning 2008, 133, fn. 21. Corrigendum: In LdQ. 60.III, does probably not belong to the string; see Werning 2011, II, 236.

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Fig. 20: Semiotic analysis of the signifier (license: CC BY-SA 4.0, Daniel A. Werning).

for ‘cryptogram’

Fig. 21: The Egyptian string for ‘cryptogram’ in the semiotic triangle of Ogden & Richards82 (license: CC BY-SA 4.0, Daniel A. Werning).

6 The function of enigmatic spellings in the Netherworld Books Among the usages of enigmatic spellings in the Netherworld Books, we can differentiate between two patterns (see Tab. 3 in Section 2.3). In Amduat and Caverns, we find that not the whole text, but mostly only names are spelled enigmatically. The spelling mode is partially cryptographic, but partially also only alienated, i.e., it is readable comparatively easily. At the same time, the plaintexts are always written beside the ciphertext, notably in the stemmatically reconstructable archetypes/

82 Diagram based on Ogden & Richards 1989 [1923], 11.

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237

α-copies and in most text witnesses of the New Kingdom.83 In the Book of Gates, in the Books of the Earth scenes, and in the Enigmatic Netherworld Books scenes, on the other hand, we find that the whole text is spelled cryptographically and that no plaintext is attested. For the latter case, it seems natural – from a modern perspective – to assume that the text was “encrypted” in order to hide its content from an unwanted reader. One might find this interpretation supported by the fact that other Egyptian texts – notably standard-orthographic texts – speak of not showing its content to just anybody.84 However, two issues weaken this hypothesis to some degree. Firstly, the contents of the respective texts do – as far as I see – not reveal any information that seems to be especially worth hiding.85 The type of information was also available in the standard-orthographic passages from, e.g., the Netherworld Books and/or the spells of the Book of the Dead.86 Secondly, the respective texts, including the standard-orthographic parts, were available only for a limited educated group of people, mostly priests, anyway.87 These people had also access to the standard-orthographic texts with the same or very similar content. Therefore, I believe that we have to think of a less technical motivation for the encryption.88 I find the two following interpretations convincing: (i) The encryption of texts was an identity shaping practice among the priests. They did not use cryptographic texts to communicate secret information but because they – and only they – were able to write and read cryptographic texts. By writing and reading texts in cryptographic spelling, they formed a kernel “in-group” of those priests that were introduced to the crypto-alphabet and the generative principles (Sections 3–4). The motivation for the encryption was a

83 See, e.g., Amd. 354–356 (stemma: Werning 2007, 1940, fig. 1) and LdQ. 74–79, 146–151 (stemma: Werning 2011, I, 79, fig. 9). 84 Cf., e.g., H. Altenmüller, “Geheimnis,” in LÄ II, cols. 510–511, with reference to the Book of the Dead spell 161 (Hornung 1990, 339: “Benutze ihn nicht für irgendeinen Menschen [...] außer für dich selbst, denn er ist ein wahres Geheimnis, das nicht irgend jemand erfahren soll.”); von Lieven 2002, 52 and Müller-Roth 2008, 139 on evidence from the Book of the Day (“Ich bin darin eingeweiht. Sprich nicht (darüber), so daß irgendein Normalmensch (rḫy.t) es hört.”) and the Book of the Dead (“Profane sollen nicht zuschauen[,] nirgendwo und niemals.”). 85 For a criticism of indeed remarkable interpretations of the Enigmatic Netherworld Books and the Awakening of Osiris tableau (alias AOTSB) by J. Darnell and J. Roberson, see Quack 2005, esp. 46– 47 and Werning 2016b, 76–77, respectively. 86 The only scenario that I can think of that would justify the idea of hiding information is if the respective, notably descriptive, text from, e.g., Gates or the Enigmatic Netherworld Books were actually used magically, i.e., if the actual literal text was important verbatim. There is, however, no clear support for this assumption, as far as I see (interesting in this context: von Lieven 2002). 87 See von Lieven 2002, 49, citing a passage from the Amduat (“die geheime[/geheimnisvolle, D.W.] Schrift über die Unterwelt, die niemandem bekannt ist außer wenigen.”). 88 So do Darnell 2004, 479, sim. 482: “the cryptography [...] did not conceal” and, for the case of “aesthetic cryptography,” Morenz 2008, 1, 27–30, 117, but cf. also 247: “weniger geheim gehalten, sondern vor allem als ‘geheim’ inszeniert [...], um ihre Bedeutsamkeit zu steigern.”

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sociological function.89 (ii) Another function – which could well apply in addition to the sociological function – is that of a metaphor for ontological “specialness:” the “special” way of spelling is a metaphor for the “special” ontological status of either those specific realms of the Netherworld that are described in cryptographic texts or of the Netherworld in general. This interpretation would account for the fact that it is mostly netherworld texts which are attested with cryptographic spellings.90 The case of Amduat and Caverns is much more specific. Hiding information cannot be an explanation here. The message is clear since the plaintext is included (and the stable attestation makes it unlikely that this was just an accident). In most parts of the Amduat, the encryption mode is “only” alienation, i.e., the message is still readable comparatively easily. Furthermore, some of the enigmatic designations for the figures that they accompany, like “Anubis” or “scarab” (Hb. 87.2, 89.3), only state the obvious. It is also difficult to argue for a sociological function (see above) in these cases. Rather any explanation has to account for not only the fact that plaintext and ciphertext are both part of the works, but also that it is only parts of the works that are spelled enigmatically. In Amduat, it is basically all the names of the creatures that are spelled enigmatically; in Caverns, it is also only the names, but only those of the 5th and 6th tableau that are spelled enigmatically. (With “names,” I mean proper names of divinities as well as designations for creatures.) That it is basically names that are spelled in a special manner makes me believe that the motivation has something to do with the special status of names in Egyptian culture. The name is intimately related with the one who carries it.91 This leads me to the idea that the special way of spelling the names is a metaphor for the special ontological status of the respective netherworld creatures (“ontological specialness metaphor”).92 Support for this interpretation might come from the specific distribution of cryptography in Caverns. Here it is only the creatures of the 5th and 6th tableaus whose names are spelled cryptographically. As I will argue for in a publication on the theology of Caverns in preparation, the 4th–6th tableaus of Cav-

89 Indeed, I believe that this function is also an aspect of the publically or semi-publically displayed “aesthetic cryptography.” Morenz (2008, 153) remarks that aesthetic cryptography (Morenz: “Visuelle Poesie”) was created and read in the high elite. Morenz himself, however, highlights other aspects of “Visuelle Poesie” (cf. op.cit., 1, 251, 295). 90 A similar interpretation is put forward by Darnell (2004, 479–482), who, however, relates the metaphor more specifically to the theology of the sun god and especially his “mysterious” corps: “The corpse of the sun is štȝ, ‘mysterious;’ these texts dealing with the solar corpse and his nightly reanimation are themselves written in cryptography, mirroring the hidden nature of the deity. Like the corpse of the sun the signs which describe him are štȝ, ‘mysterious;’ like him they are difficult to comprehend” (op.cit., 482). 91 See P. Vernus, “Name,” in: LÄ IV, col. 320–322. 92 Like Morenz (2008, 238), I initially contemplated the idea that the special spelling of the names relates not to the creature, but to their names as linguistic strings directly, i.e., to an alien divine language. However, the evidence for such a divine language are weak (cf. loc.cit.) and this would only easily account for names and direct speech, but not for descriptive enigmatic texts.

Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books

Generic frame

Source Domain script

Target Domain A: creature

Target Domain B: Realm

Type

– Spelling type

– Nature (< name)

– Type of realm

Type:usual Type:unusual

– Standard orthography – Enigmatic spelling

– Unspecific nature – Special nature

– Unspecific realm – Special realm

(Amduat, Caverns)

239

(e.g., Enigmatic Netherworld Books)

Fig. 22: Metaphorical mappings of the “ontological specialness metaphors”.

erns exhibit in some respects ontologically less “realistic” realms of the Netherworld than the other tableaus. Among these, the 5th and 6th tableaus are surely the least accessible ones. However, they prominently seem to deal with transformations of Ra.93 One may, therefore, summarize that a special way of spelling names in Caverns occur in those sections with the most special creatures. Figure 22 displays the conceptual mapping of the bipolar “ontological speciallness metaphors” discussed.94

7 Summary Among the spellings commonly described as “enimatic,” we may differentiate between two modes: “alienated” spelling and “cryptographic” spelling (Section 2). Alienated spellings deviate from standard orthography, but are still comparatively easily readable based on the knowledge of standard orthographic sign functions. Cryptographic spellings, on the other hand, contain at least some encrypted signs, for the interpretation of which the knowledge of the generative principles (Section 3.1) or a cipher table, probably one like the reconstructed “crypto-alphabet” (Section 3.2), is required. A thorough semiotic analysis of the generative principles of enigmatic spellings revealed that the iconicity of the involved graphemes, i.e., the identification of what the iconic grapheme displays, is often less relevant than one might have expected (Section 4). Among the cases of Categorial sign exchange (#7a), are mostly cases of Generic classifiers (#7a-1) which are only dependent on the iconicity of the respective plaintext sign, but not on the iconicity of the ciphertext sign (on the part of the ciphertext sign, it is its standard-orthographic function as a classifier that is opera-

93 Darnell (2004, 479) suggests that a similar argument can account for the different enigmatic spelling modes in the Amduat (4th/5th hours vs. the rest). 94 For the type of bipolar/bivalent/orientational metaphors in Conceptual Metaphor Theory, see Kövecses 2010, 40.

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tive). In the cases of Meronymic sign exchange (#7b/c) and Graphic similarity (#7d), it seems that it is mainly the mere shape of the graphemes that is relevant, the iconic identification of the graphemes being a non-obligatory surplus. Similarly, the principle of Onomatopoeia (#9) is mainly dependent on the standard-orthographic function of the signs. The same holds true for a subset of the cases of Conceptual association (#21–1, cf. Section 4.2.5). From what can be verified in Amduat and Caverns, I take explanations of sign exchanges based on the principle of Free categorial exchange (#7a-2) to be less convincing than those based on the usage of Generic classifiers (#7a-1). Explanations based on the principle of Meronymic sign exchange (#7b/c) are more convincing for cases in which the shape of the one sign is fully contained in the other one, not only partially. And explanations based on the principle of Graphic similarity (#7d) are more convincing for cases in which the shapes of the signs are very similar, not just vaguely similar. However, more research is needed on the very details of the principles of Free categorial exchange (Section 4.2.3), the principles of Meronymic sign exchange (Section 4.2.4) and Graphic similarity in hieroglyphic or cursive script (Principle #7d), as well as the principle of Conceptual association (Section 4.2.5), especially based on comparatively indubitable cases from text other than Amduat and Caverns. found in In Section 5, I argued that the Egyptian ciphertext string Caverns is a signifier for the meaning ‘cryptogram,’ which is motivated by the possible referents/objects of the signifier; i.e., it is one of the rare semiotic cases, in which the signifier of a sign has a direct connection to its referents (not only an indirect connection via the concept referred to). Furthermore, it well represents the “crypto-alphabet” as well as the encryption principles underlying it, i.e., it well represents the concept of cryptography in a more general sense (Section 3.2). As to the function of enigmatic spellings in the Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom (Section 6), we need to differentiate between at least two types of usage. The alienated or cryptographic spelling of creatures’ names plus additional attestation of the respective plaintexts in Amduat and Caverns, on the one hand, and the cryptographic spelling of the full text without plaintext, e.g., in the Enigmatic Netherworld Books scenes, on the other hand. For the case of Amduat and Caverns, I suggested to interpret the enigmatic spellings as an “ontological specialness metaphor,” i.e., that the “special” way of spelling names refers to the “special” ontological status of the creatures referred to. For the case of fully cryptographic texts, I suggested to understand the usage as a sociological phenomenon: the usage of a non-standard way of spelling within a narrow group of educated priests, which shaped (rather than established) the identity of an in-group. At the same time, the cryptographic spelling may also be interpreted as an “ontological specialness metaphor.” However, in this case the “special” way of spelling refers to the “special” ontological status of the described netherworld realms as a whole.

Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books

Abbreviations /m/ */m/ [m] *[m] [m] [[m]] cl MK n.a. NK OE OK pl SemIx.

Phonological reconstruction Phonological reconstruction (details questionable) Phonetic reconstruction Phonetic reconstruction (details questionable) Functional interpretation of written signs according to standard orthography Deciphered meaning of signs of a cryptographic spelling Classifier Middle Kingdom Not attested New Kingdom Old Egyptian Old Kingdom Grammato-classifier95 plural Semogram index96

95 This term was introduced in Werning 2011.I, 103 [§ 6]; Werning w2015, §§ 24, 28. 96 See Werning 2011, I, 103 or Werning 2015, § 10

241

Linguistic level Sign

Sign

Sign

Sign Sign

Sign

Sign Sign Sign Sign

Principle

(#2) Exchange of a phonogram for a homophone alternative

(#3b) “Rebus (proper):” usage of a logogram as a phonogram

(#3d) Usage of a phono-repeater as an autonomous phonogram

(#8) “Principle of the only strong consonant”

(#5) Sign exchange inspired by prominent pronunciation changes

(#3c) “Classifier rebus:” usage of a classifier as a phonogram

(#7) Sign exchange based on graphic sign shape

(#9) Onomatopoeia

(#22) Unrestricted acrophony

(#6) Generalized replacement of a classifier by a less common alternative classifier

Quite opaque

Quite opaque

Quite opaque

Quite opaque

Partially transparent

Partially transparent

Quite transparent

Very transparent

Very transparent

No

New signs readings

Tab. 7: Evaluation of principles of enigmatic encoding (primarily ordered by linguistic level).

Appendix

Encryption

Encryption

Encryption

Encryption

Alienation: Cases of repeaters (e.g., for [nb]); Encryption: Cases of general classifiers (e.g., for *[[bj.t]], for *[[kȝ]]; see Section 3.2)

Alienation: Entrenched cases (e.g., for [t]); Encryption: Novel cases (e.g., for [[ḥr]])

Encryption

Alienation

Alienation

Alienation

Encoding mode

242 Daniel A. Werning

Sign/word

Sign/word

Word Word Word

Word Word

Word Word Sign multiplication

Sign multiplication Sign multiplication

(#3a) Usage of a classifier as a logogram

(#4) Usage of a characteristic sign of a word spelling for the whole word

(#4bis) Abbreviation

(#11) Reduction of redundancies

(#12/#13) Resegmentation: spelling analysis, synthesis, and recombination

(#19) Omission(/addition) of “weak consonants”

(#20) Sign sequence inversion

(#10) Exchange of synonyms

(#21) Conceptual association

(#14b–#17) Notation of (pseudo-)dual/plural by sign multiplication

(#14a) Notation of double leaf ( ) by sign reduplication

(#18) Ordinal numbers by sign multiplication

No

No

No

Quite opaque

Quite opaque

No

No

No

No

No

Quite opaque

Partially transparent

Encryption

Encryption

Alienation

Encryption

Encryption

Alienation: Cases attested in standard for ); orthography (e.g., Encryption: Cases not attested in standard orthography (e.g., for )

Alienation

Alienation

Alienation

Encryption

Encryption

Alienation: Cases of repeaters (e.g., for [rm.yt]); Encryption: Cases of general classifiers (e.g., for [[ʿp(j)]])

Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books

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Daniel A. Werning

Tab. 8: Signs employed in the “crypto-alphabet” and their generation principles. Cryptoalphabet

/

Standard orthography ȝ

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

w

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

m

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

f

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

ḏ

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

d

(#5b) Inversion of pronunciation change (ḏ > d) → (#7a-1) Generic classifier

s

(#7a-1) Generic classifier; Simultaneously (#7c) Plus pro parte(?)

k

(#3c) Classifier rebus (*kȝ) → (#8) Only strong consonant (#3c) Classifier rebus (*ḫy) → (#8) Only strong consonant

ḫ

(#8) Only strong consonant (sy); Simultaneously (#7c) Plus pro parte

s

(#1) Standard-orthographic signs

ʿ d

​

(1×)

b

​ (1×)

n.a.

(#3b) Rebus (proper) (*d(j)) Simultaneously (#7c) Plus pro parte (#3c) Classifier rebus (*bj.t) → (#8) Only strong consonant

t

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

t

(#7a-2) Free categorial exchange (#5b) Inversion of pronunciation change (ṯ > t)

t

(Sign redupl.)

Generation principle

w

​ (1×?)

(#7a-2) Free categorial exchange

ḥ

​ (1×?)

(#7a-2) Free categorial exchange

ḥ

(#1) Standard-orthographic sign

j

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

y

(#7a-1) Generic classifier

y

(#14) Twin-like sign by reduplication

ï

(#14) Twin-like sign by reduplication

ï

(#1) Standard-orthographic sign

š

(#1) Standard-orthographic sign

ẖ

(#2) Homophone alternative

n

(#2) Homophone alternative

ṯ

(#2) Homophone alternative

p

(#9) Onomatopoeia

r

(#9) Onomatopoeia

h

(#1) Standard-orthographic sign

q

(#1) Standard-orthographic sign

g

[(#1) Standard-orthographic sign (?)]

for [[sokar/skr]], derived via

for [[d]], probably derived via

​

​

(only partially)

yes (low res.)

yes (low res.)

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

yes

Meronymy via displayed

yes

yes (plus #3a)

yes (plus #3a)

yes

yes

yes

Meronymy via function (# 21-1)

For references, see the list in Werning 2008, 136–152. For the reanalysis of possible further cases, see fn.73 and 74.

for [[s]], derived via

for [[s]], derived via

​

​

for [[go_away/šm]], derived via

​

)

)

for [[eye/jrt]], derived via

(

/

​

​ for [[watch/ptr]], via

(

for [[see/mȝȝ]], via

​

)

for [[see/watch]], via

​

,

for [[eye/jrt]], via

​

(

yes

for [[jr]], derived via

​ yes

Meronymy on the graphic level

Case

Tab. 9: Ciphertext–plaintext connection possibly after Principle # 7b/c.

#7a-1

#3b

#8

#3a

#7a-1; #21-1

Other explanatory principles

Cryptographic Encodings in the Netherworld Books

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Bibliography Amd. = Hornung, E., 1987–1994, Texte zum Amduat. AH 13–15. Crypt. Lexicon = J. A. Roberson, A Lexicon of Ancient Egyptian Cryptography of the New Kingdom. By Joshua Aaron Roberson. With contributions by David Klotz, volume II of Enigmatic Writing in the New Kingdom. ZÄS Beihefte. Darnell, J. C., 2004, The Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity: Cryptographic Compositions in the Tombs of Tutankhamun, Ramesses IV and Ramesses IX. OBO 198. Drioton, É., 1940, “Recueil de cryptographie monumentale,” ASAE 40, 305–429. DZA = Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Das digitalisierte Zettelarchiv [des Wörterbuchs der ägyptischen Sprache] (DZA), In: Thesaurus Linguae Aegyptiae. http://aaew2.​ bbaw.​de/tla/ (accessed April 2016). Gardiner, A. H., 1957, Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs, 3rd, rev. edition, Oxford. Goldwasser, O., 2002, Prophets, Lovers and Giraffes: Wor(l)d Classification in Ancient Egypt. With an appendix by Matthias Müller. GOF IV 38. Hb. = Werning (2011, II). Hornung, E., 1990, Das Totenbuch der Ägypter, Zürich. Kammerzell, Fr., 2005, “Old Egyptian and Pre-Old Egyptian: Tracing Linguistic Diversity in Archaic Egypt and the Creation of the Egyptian Language,” in: St. J. Seidlmayer (ed.), Texte und Denkmäler des ägyptischen Alten Reiches. Thesaurus Linguae Aegyptiae 3, 165–247. Klotz, D., 2012, “Once Again, Min ( ): Acrophony or Phonetic Change,” GM 233, 21–29. Kövecses, Z., 2010, Metaphor: A practical introduction, 2nd, rev. edn., Oxford. Kurth, D., 2007, Einführung ins Ptolemäische: Eine Grammatik mit Zeichenliste und Übungsstücken I, 1st edn., Hützel. LÄ = Helck, W., E. Otto, W. Westendorf (eds.), 1975–1992, Lexikon der Ägyptologie, Wiesbaden. LdQ. = Piankoff, A., 1946, Le Livre des Quererts. Extraits du BIFAO 41, 42, 43, 45 (1941–1947), Cairo. von Lieven, A., 2002, “Mysterien des Kosmos: Kosmographie und Priesterwissenschaft,” in: J. Assmann, M. Bommas (eds.), Ägyptische Mysterien?, München, 47–58. Lincke, E.-S., 2011, Die Prinzipien der Klassifizierung im Altägyptischen. GOF IV 38.6. Manassa, C., 2006, “The Judgement Hall of Osiris in the Book of Gates,” RdE 57, 109–150, pl. 15–18. Maspero, G., 1914, Sarcophages des époques persane et ptolémaique, Cairo. Möller, G., 1927, Hieratische Paläographie: 2. Von der Zeit Thutmosis’ III bis zum Ende der einundzwanzigsten Dynastie, 2., verbesserte Aufl., Leipzig. Morenz, L. D., 2008, Sinn und Spiel der Zeichen: Visuelle Poesie im Alten Ägypten. Pictura et poesis 21. Müller, C., 2008, Metaphors dead and alive, sleeping and waking: A dynamic view, Chicago. Müller-Roth, M., 2008, Das Buch vom Tage. OBO 236. Nöth, W., 2000, Handbuch der Semiotik, 2nd, rev. edn., Stuttgart. Ogden, Ch. K., and I. A. Richards, 1989, The Meaning of Meaning: A Study of the Influence of Language upon Thought and of the Science of Symbolism. With supplementary essays by B. Malinowski and F. G. Crookshank, Introduction by Umberto Eco, San Diego. Peust, C., 1999, Egyptian Phonology: An introduction to the phonology of a dead language. Monographien zur ägyptischen Sprache 2, Göttingen. http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/ peust1999. Piankoff, A., and N. Rambova, 1955, The Shrines of Tut-Ankh-Amon. Bollingen series 40.2. Polis, St., and S. Rosmorduc, 2015, “The Hieroglyphic Sign Functions. Suggestions for a Revised Taxonomy,” in: H. Amstutz, A. Dorn, M. Müller, M. Ronsdorf, S. Uljas (eds.), Fuzzy Boundaries. Festschrift für Antonio Loprieno, Hamburg, 149–174.

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Quack, J. F., 2005, “Ein Unterweltsbuch der solar-osirianischen Einheit? Zugl. Rez. zu J. C. Darnell, The Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity,” WdO 35, 22–47. Roberson, J. A., 2013, The Awakening of Osiris and the Transit of the Solar Barques: Royal Apotheosis in a Most Concise Book of the Underworld and Sky. OBO 262. Schenkel, W., 2012, Tübinger Einführung in die klassisch-ägyptische Sprache und Schrift, 5th, green edn., Tübingen. Theban Mapping Project. Image Database. http://www.tmpimagegallery.com/ (accessed 11 May 2010). Valeurs phonétiques II = Daumas, Fr.. 1988, Valeurs phonétiques des signes hiéroglyphiques d’époque Gréco-Romaine 2, Montpellier. Vycichl, W., 1983, Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue copte, Leuven. Wb = Erman, A., and H, Grapow, 1926–1931, Das Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache, Leipzig. Werning, D. A., 2004, “The Sound Values of the Signs Gardiner D1 (Head) and T8 (Dagger),” LingAeg 12, 183–203. DOI 10.11588/propylaeumdok.00003788. Werning, D. A., 2007, “An Interpretation of the Stemmata of the Books of the Netherworld in the New Kingdom: Tomb Decoration and the Text Additions for Osiris NN,” in: J.-Cl. Goyon, Chr. Cardin (eds.), Proceedings of the Ninth International Congress of Egyptologists, Grenoble, 6–12 September 2004, OLA 150, 1935–1949. DOI 10.11588/propylaeumdok.00003857. Werning, D. A., 2008, “Aenigmatische Schreibungen in Unterweltsbüchern des Neuen Reiches: gesicherte Entsprechungen und Ersetzungsprinzipien,” in: C. Peust (ed.), Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf, GM Beihefte 3, Göttingen, 124–152. DOI 10.11588/ propylaeumdok.00003893. Werning, D. A., 2011, Das Höhlenbuch. Textkritische Edition und Textgrammatik. GOF IV 48. Werning, D. A., 2013, “Linguistic Dating of the Netherworld Books Attested in the New Kingdom: A Critical Review,” in: G. Moers, K. Widmaier, A. Giewekemeyer, A. Lümers, R. Ernst (eds.), Dating Egyptian Literary Texts. Conference “Dating Egyptian Literary Texts” Göttingen, 9–12 June 2010, Volume 1. LingAeg SM 11, 237–281. DOI 10.11588/ propylaeumdok.00003833. Werning, D. A., 2015, Einführung in die hieroglyphisch-ägyptische Schrift und Sprache: Propädeutikum mit Zeichen- und Vokabellektionen, Übungen und Übungshinweisen, 3., rev. edn., Berlin: eDoc-Server der Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin, DOI http://dx.doi.org/10.18452/ 13650. Werning, D. A., 2016a, “Hypotheses on Glides and Matres Lectionis in Earlier Egyptian Orthographies,” in: J. P. Allen, M. A. Collier, A. Stauder (eds.), Coping with Obscurity: The Brown Workshop on Earlier Egyptian Grammar. Wilbour Studies in Egyptology and Assyriology 4, 29–44 (Bibl. 225–255), DOI 10.11588/propylaeumdok.00004626. Werning, D. A., 2016b, “Rezension von: Joshua A. Roberson, The Awakening of Osiris and the Transit of the Solar Barques,” BiOr 73, 69–78, DOI 10.2143/BIOR.73.1.3157122 Westendorf, W., 1962, Grammatik der medizinischen Texte. Grundriß der Medizin der alten Ägypter 8, Berlin.

Andréas Stauder

The Visual Otherness of the Enigmatic Text in Some Netherworld Books of the New Kingdom In the following I discuss the enigmatic text for its visual dimensions and for the particular reading experience it induces. I focus on one specific tradition of enigmatic writing in one corpus among the so-called Netherworld Books, the Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity (henceforth: BSOU), inscribed on the Second Shrine of Tutankhamun, on the Ceiling of Corridor G of the Tomb of Ramses VI, and on the Enigmatic Wall in the Tomb of Ramses IX.1 Unlike in other traditions of enigmatic writing in the New Kingdom, enigmatic writing in the Netherworld Books does not present a concentration of immediately highly iconic signs, and would therefore appear rather distinct. The setting is different too, in sealed-off funerary apartments rather than (in public spaces) in temples or displayed on private monuments and artifacts. Yet, as to be shown, the Netherworld Books, and particularly the BSOU, demonstrate some of the fundamental determinants and properties of the enigmatic text, in common to the various traditions and practices of enigmatic writing in the New Kingdom. I first describe how writing is de-familiarized in the BSOU, commenting on the deconventionalization of spellings and the process of sign substitution. Moving beyond the individual signs and words, the main part of the discussion concerns the visual otherness of and patterns in the enigmatic text, and the delayed and dazzled reading that such alteration of writing brings about. In both cases, I begin with an analytic discussion to move to a more interactional approach of the text. I conclude by addressing the apparent paradox of a type of writing that is altered in both its visual dimension and its orientation on reading, yet inscribed in places in which there is no one to see it.

1 De-conventionalization and reduction Writing in the Netherworld Books is de-familiarized thoroughly in what has been described as a two-step alteration process.2 This is analyzed further here with a view on its implications on the visual surface of the enigmatic text and the delayed reading it induces. 1 Darnell 2004, for the readings and interpretation. Original publications of the texts here cited: Piankoff 1952; Piankoff and Rambova 1954; 1955. 2 Werning 2008. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110683882-008

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In regular hieroglyphic writing, spellings of words consist of phonograms (uniliterals, biliterals, triliterals), logograms (including radicograms, signs standing for roots), and semantic determinatives (a.k.a. classifiers), variously combined. Spellings of any given word can vary, but not along all theoretically possible combinations: to a significant degree, they are conventionalized.3 These regular spellings typically target the two articulations of language, the semantic and the phonetic. They have a hierarchical structure: phonetic information precedes semantic information, signs complement other signs, and the overall pattern of a spelling can be indicative of root structure. In relation to the above, they also display substantial redundancy – as do all natural writing systems, which can be seen as self-correcting codes. In enigmatic writing in the Netherworld Books, and in the BSOU that form the basis of the present discussion in particular, these spellings are de-conventionalized, with direct effects on all the dimensions just evoked. In what can be described as a first step of alteration, enigmatic spellings are reduced to mainly uniliteral phonograms; biliteral phonograms, logograms and semantic determinatives are retained only uncommonly. As an immediate result, a hierarchical structure is thereby substituted with a flat structure, and redundancy is reduced to a minimum. In what can be described as a second step of alteration, the individual mono-consonantal signs (either present in the regular spelling, or introduced through the first step of alteration as replacement of signs of other categories) are in turn substituted with other mono-consonantal signs that are uncommon, or uncommon with these particular value(s), in regular writing. (It goes without saying that the two-step decomposition is analytic and expository; ancient practices may well have been more synthetic.) A few introductory examples, drawn from BSOU, pl. 5B (see below, fig. 6), may illustrate the above. To the spellings in the enigmatic text, the conventional spellings, in square brackets, are associated for comparison:4 –

wnn “exist, be”: [ (regular)] → (col. 5): 1. suppression of structure and of semantic information: [wn-n-n, a hierarchical structure with phonetic complementation and indicative of the root √wn(n)] → broken down into w-n-n, the bare consonantral skeleton, a flat structure; 2. substitution of individual signs: [ ] → the less common and visually more salient , for n);

3 This conventionalized visual form of written words corresponds to Schenkel’s notion of “Schematogramm” (1971, 91) 4 The orientation of signs is reproduced as in the original text from which the examples are drawn; by default, it is from left to right.

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–

(col. 1–2): nṯrw “gods”: [ (regular)] → 1. suppression of semantic information: [logographic spelling (god-plural)] → broken down into n-ṯ-rw-plural, the bare consonantal skeleton; for n; 2.

–

kkw “darkness”: [ (regular)] → (col. 13–14): 1. suppression of semantic information and of redundancy: [k-k-w-night, with phonetic representation and semantic representation ( ) reinforcing one another] → k-k-w-plural, the bare consonantral skeleton; for w (both enig2. substitution of individual signs: [ ] → for k; [ ] → matic values not found in regular writing);

–

(regular)] → (col. 10): ẖȝt “corpse”: [ 1. suppression of structure [ẖȝ-t, with feminine ending -t, indicative of root √ẖȝ] and suppression of semantic information and of redundancy: [ẖȝ-t-mummy , with phonetic representation and semantic representation ( ) reinforcing one another] → ẖ-ȝ-t, the bare consonantal skeleton; for ȝ [in 2. substitution of individual signs: for ẖ [in lieu of regular ]; for t [in lieu of regular ]). lieu of regular ];

A brief note on enigmatic substitutions The modes of sign substitution at work in the second step of alteration are principled and can be described variously according to one’s more philological, cultural, or semiotical focus.5 In the present context, substitution can be usefully viewed as based on proportional analogy (/four-part analogy: “A is to B like C is to D”), a principle with broad application in a variety of domains (e.g., linguistic morpholo(< kȝ, by the consonantal principle), and congy).6 Thus, given the value k of sidering the meronymic (pars-pro-toto) relation between the hide-and-tail sign and , can then itself come to be associated with the value k. As has been often described,7 such analogy can bear on visual referents, shapes, visual referents and shapes combined, similarity of shapes in the Hieratic cursive, similarity along the phonetic articulation of laguage, or similarity along the semantic articulation of language.8 The practice of enigmatic substitution thus amounts to an implicit native 5 E.g., Roberson, Excursus, this volume a; CryptLex, § 6; Werning, this volume. 6 E.g., in morphological paradigms (English), [drive : drove] : [dive : dove]. Similarly, in morphological change (German), [packt : backt] : [packte : (oldbuck >) backte]. 7 Beyond the studies cited two footnotes above, also, e.g., Klotz, this volume; Werning 2008; Manassa 2004. 8 Examples: 1. similarity of visual referents: , substituting (pars pro toto) for , for k (< kȝ); 2. similarity of shapes: substituting for (regardless of the altogether different visual referents, a pool of water and a seat respectively, the shapes are comparable), for p; 3. similarity of visual

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meta-discourse on Egyptian signs of writing: rather than just two sides (“signifier, signified”), these have many sides: a shape, a visual referent, counterpart in Hieratic, phonetic associations, semantic associations (and more: for instance in monumental full-figures friezes such as Ramses II’s in the Luxor temple, cultural knowledge embedded in signs of writing is central 9). To make things more complex, substitutions can be applied recursively, and, furthermore, include so-called “reversals.” 10 It should be noted, however, that the entropy that could result from this second step of alteration is also kept in check. To begin with, many enigmatic values are recurrent to the point thatthese values can be considered regular within enigmatic writing – for instance for k – and therefore givens (a reader conversant with the relevant tradition of enigmatic writing does not need to figure these out); not counting these, substitution is in most cases limited to one step only. In addition, the modes of substitution described above are principled: there are rules of the game. These rules are based on analogy, in ways that are effective in entirely different domains such as linguistic morphology: this is testimony to the general cognitive naturalness of the rules at work. Given the ontological premises of Egyptian writing as given in the ordered world,11 these substitutions are themselves naturally given.

2 Visual otherness, repetition, patterns The two-step alteration outlined above results in an altered visual form of enigmatic writing. The first step – the reduction of the spellings of words to their bare consonantal skeleton – results in a concentration on mono-consonantal phonograms. The repertoire of signs used is thereby reduced to a small subset only. Accordingly, texts present a degree of repetition of signs that is substantially higher than in regular hieroglyphic writing. The second step – substitution – results in the replacement of common mono-consonantal phonograms by less common or altogether rare ones. The substituted signs typically present a higher visual resolution (are visually more referents and shapes combined: , substituting for (the signs both represent floorplans of buildings and have similar shapes), for the value p < pr (*/pv/); 4. similarity of shapes in the Hieratic cursive: , substituting for , for the value r; 5/ phonetic similarity: (nbỉ “swim”), substituting for , for the value nb “lord”; 6/ semantic similarity: (in regular writing, a component of mẖnw “inside, within”), as an enigmatic spelling for ỉmỉ “that is in.” 9 Klotz, this volume. 10 For example, in enigmatic writing, (a spewing mouth) regularly has the value p. By analogy of visual referents, the more common sign of the mouth, , then comes to stand for the value p as well. In regular writing, stands for r: through enigmatic substitution, a “r-sign” ( ) has thus come to stand for a value p. In regular writing, another sign, , stands for just this value p. Just as the “r-sign” ( ) has come to stand for p in enigmatic writing, so can the “p-sign” ( ) then be made to stand for r, by inversion. 11 E.g., Meeks 2018, 141–150; Sauneron 1982, 55–56.

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detailed) and/or iconicity (defined as a relation to an often animate visual referent) than the signs they substitute for. For instance (in each pair, the sign on the left is the one used in regular writing, the one on the right its most common enigmatic substitution): p s

k ỉ

r ḏ

The two steps of alteration thus affect the visual resolution of the enigmatic text in two apparently opposite directions: a dramatic reduction in the number of signs, and a heightened visual resolution and/or iconicity of the individual signs. The combined result is a strong sense of repetition: a high degree of repetition results because texts are written with a severely limited number of signs (first step of alteration) and the sense of repetition is made all the stronger visually by the otherness, higher visual resolution, and/or iconicity of the substituted signs (second step of alteration). A whole series of patterns can then be described in the enigmatic text. Some of these are direct artifacts of the two-step alteration described above, while others may have been intentional on the part of the composers of the texts – regardless, the eye, in encountering the enigmatic text, is given a space in which to construct patterns. Types of such pattern are illustrated in what follows; by necessity, the exposition is analytic. The reader is encouraged to construct his own patterns while letting himself drift through enigmatic text. That an aesthetics of repetition, in general, is integral to the enigmatic text in the BSOU is illustrated very directly by one common group that often opens the nn n nṯrw “These gods enigmatic text and therefore has an emblematic value: nn-n god-plural. Be(…)” – that is, n-n-n-n-ṯ-r-plural, contrasting with regular yond, dissimilation and assimilation are key figures of repetition. Like in regular writing, but more commonly than in this, dissimilation refers to a situation when a given value is realized in different ways – either by different shapes of a sign or by altogether different signs – in close succession. E.g.: –

stwt “rays” (BSOU, pl. 23, 39) – In enigmatic writing, and can both spell t ( , t < ṯ; through substitution of shape with ; both are visually more salient variants than regular ). An intent is manifest in the dissimilated realization of the two successive t’s in stwt “rays.” For chains of and alternating in a text, see below.

–

š-p “receive” and š-p “illuminate” (BSOU, pl. 7B) – In regular writing, the two homophonous verbs šsp “receive” and šsp “illuminate” are distinguished by their different semantic determinatives. After suppression of these and reduction of the spelling to the bare consonantal skeleton, š-p (< šsp, cf. Coptic ωⲡ), the two words are identical on the graphic level. Here, they are secondarily dissimilated trough the different spelling of p ( and ).

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Even more characteristic of the enigmatic text is the reverse phenomenon, assimilation. This refers to the realization, in close succession, of different values by the same sign or group of signs. In the enigmatic text, the widespread presence of assimilation derives structurally from the reduced number of signs (through reduction to mono-consonantal signs: first step of alteration) compounded with the polyvalency of individual substituted signs (second step of alteration). Unlike dissimilation, assimilation results in repetition that is directly manifest visually. E.g., in captions: bȝ tȝ-tnn “Ba-Tatenen” (BSOU, pl. 5C, 22 = 5th figure from right), with the bird successively for bȝ and n (twice); sim. ỉst “Isis” 12 (BSOU, pl. 4B, right figure); šsp-ʿ “Receiving-of-arm” (BSOU, pl. 7B, 3 = 2nd figure from right). A particular playfulness is demonstrated in cases such as the following:

–

assimilation across word boundaries – e.g.,

ṯf ḏw=f “he calls” (BSOU, pl. 10B,

col. 7),13 with the snake successively for f, ḏ, and f again; sim. ỉw bȝ (rʿ ḏw=f …) “The ba (of Re calls …)” (BSOU 9, col. 6–7), with the bird successively for w and bȝ; –

assimilation of groups of signs – e.g., in captions,

ḫprỉ “Khepri” (BSOU,

ḥr ʿnḫ-ḫpr(w) “Horus living of manifestations” pl. 5C, 18), in the same row as (BSOU, pl. 5C, 20), with the pair scarab–scarab standing successively for the pseudo-dual ḫprỉ, than as two distinct logograms, ʿnḫ and ḫpr.14 Assimilation can result in complex interlocked patterns, as in the following short excerpt:

(…)

(…)

(…)=sn m kkw smȝw pp rʿ ỉỉ bȝw (…) “Their (bodies exist) in complete darkness. When Re passes by, (…)” Fig. 1: BSOU, pl. 5C, 8–12 (Second Shrine of Tutankhamun, Side One, Scene 5). 12 Darnell 2004, 39–40. 13 Darnell 2004, 123, n. a. 14 Darnell 2004, 70–71.

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–

In col. 10, the highly polyvalent generic bird stands for various values, successively m, ȝ, and w, as well as m (col. 8), w again (col. 9), and bȝ (col. 11). Another polyvalent sign, the generic plant, stands, doubled, successively for k-k (col. 9), then for ỉ-ỉ (col. 11). Thus (with generic birds boldfaced and doubled generic plants underscored): (…)=s-n m k-k-w s-m-ȝ-w -p-p rʿ ỉ-ỉ bȝ-w (…).

–

A palindromic pattern can also be detected, centering around the three generic birds as a visually salient axis of symmetry: (12) =sn

–

←

(11)

ỉ-ỉ bȝ-w

← (…) (10) (…) → (s)m-ȝ-w

(9)

→ (…)

k-k-w

(8) =sn

The central axis of this palindrom, consisting of three birds (col. 10), is just atop the fifth standing figure in the pictorial scene, the caption of which includes three more generic birds:

bȝ tȝ-tnn “Ba-Tatenen” (bȝ tȝ-t-n-n; see above).

Assimilation and dissimilation often occur combined. This is called here inversion (at the level of the text, not to be confused with the related phenomenon of “inversion” at the level of the substitution of individual signs, mentioned in section 1). An introductory example is this:

Fig. 2: BSOU, pl. 7B (Second Shrine of Tutankhamun, Side One, Scene 8).

–

In the inscription, a sequence of birds is seen: (…) (…) (…) (…) ȝ ȝ w-ȝ-m

(…) m

In enigmatic writing, the generic bird ( ) substitutes for a whole series of birdsigns with various values (assimilation: different values expressed by the same sign). In the sequence above, the generic bird alternates formally with the Egyp), the forms are dissimitian vulture ( ). In the group m-ȝ-w (elsewhere as . In particular, (which has the value ȝ in lated, yielding the alternating regular writing) is used for m and w, but not for ȝ. This value, in turn, is realized as , precisely not as . This pattern of inversion extends beyond the group disfor m) and left (ȝ realized as ). cussed, to the right ( –

Rhythm is augmented by the formal dissimilation of the signs for t, resulting in a chain that interlocks with the chain of birds just described: (…) (…) (…) (…) (…) (…) (…) (…)

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Chains of inversion can be constructed by the beholder throughout an enigmatic text. An example of such possible drifts (among other possible ones) is this:15

Fig. 3: BSOU, pl. 21, col. 8–12 (Ceiling of Corridor G of the tomb of Ramses VI, upper register, scene 3).

–

In col. 10, top, the group is for ỉmn “hidden” (with a semi-enigmatic substitution for ỉm, and an enigmatic substitution for n). From here, whole webs of relations can be spun. For instance, the same group in col. 8 and 12 stands for ʿȝ “great”, as in regular writing (assimilation of groups: the same group for two different values/words). Elsewhere in the text, ʿȝ “great” is similarly realized as (thus, col. 22, 25), yet once also as (col. 37; dissimilation: the same word realized in different ways). Going back to the word ỉmn “hidden,” this recurs too, but as ỉmn in col. 10.

–

(col. 26–27), a dissimilation with respect to

In col. 10, middle, the sequence s-n is dissimilated in the same phrase: snṯw=sn “their corpses,” first as , then as (and tadditional plural determinative). In the first occurrence, (r in regular writing) is substituted for the value n. Making the reader dizzy: the value n is also realized, in close vicinity, as (8, 9) and (10) (dissimilation), while also stands for p in ʿpp (8) and in pn (11)16 (assmilation).

–

In col. 10, bottom, the apparent sequence

falls in two parts,

ḫr belonging

to main text of the annotation and ḫnty to the caption below. Between ḫr and ḫn- (in ḫnty), the following relations of both dissimilation and assimila15 Based on the philological analysis by Darnell 2004, 174–188. 16 Note, furthermore, that is here next to the regular sign for n.

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tion can be seen. Dissimilation: the first consonant, ḫ, is realized as (an enigmatic substitution) in ḫr; (the regular sign for ḫ) comes just after, in ḫn-. Assimilation: the second consonant, r, is realized as (the regular value) in ḫr; then occurs for n (an enigmatic substitution) in ḫn-. The overall result is inversion: stands for ḫr – which, in regular writing, would be . The signs are directly adjacent – but, rather than for ḫr, they stand for ḫn- (in ḫnty).

Fig. 4: BSOU, pl. 21, col. 23–42 (Ceiling of Corridor G of the tomb of Ramses VI, upper register, scene 3).

–

Wandering further through the same text (see fig. 4, above), a chain of inversion can be constructed (among other possible ones) beginning with the verb ʿpỉ “pass, travel,” written with the regular p-sign in ʿpp (thus col. 39–40, 44). A/ dissimilation: the same verb recurs with enigmatic substitutions for p: the spewing mouth in ʿpt (36) and the mouth in ʿpp (8, 27), ʿppt (23). B/ Inversion: the last group ( ) would would, in regular writing, be read ʿrr, a form of the verb ʿrỉ “ascend.” This very verb is probably present, just next to ʿpp “passes” (27), in ʿr “ascends” (28). In 27, the regular “r-sign” ( ) is thus used for p, but not for r, for which, in 28, an enigmatic substitution, for , is used. C/ Further inversion: a written form of a word looking like ʿr, with the regular “r-sign” ( ), is found, but for an altogether different word: ʿȝ “great” (8, 12, 22, 25); as seen (37). D/ Dissimilation: ʿȝ “great” is otherwise written above, the spelling stands elsewhere for ỉmn “hidden” (10, assimilation), while ỉmn “hidden” is also written

(26–27, dissimilation). E/ etc.

To give a sense of the overall rhythmical density of the enigmatic text, I now describe some patterns of repetition – dissimilation, assimilation, and inversion, of signs and of groups, in direct adjacency or not – that can be seen in one enigmatic

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text. As already noted, the following is necessarily phrased analytically, but should be understood as an invitation to the reader to let himself get absorbed into the enigmatic text.

Fig. 5: BSOU, pl. 8 (Second shrine of Tutankhamun, Side 1, Scene 9).

–

Dissimilation (different graphic realizations of the same value(s)) – E.g.: ḳrrt “cavern” ~ col. 10 ḳrr t(n …) “this cavern”. The spellings are col. 4 dissimilated here on two levels at once: a/ the realization of the sound r, first with the grasshoper (as is regular in enigmatic writing), then with the mouth (as is regular in non-enigmatic writing); b/ the position of relative to , first before it, as the feminine ending -t of ḳrrt “cavern,” then after it, as the initial t- of the demonstrative tn.

–

Assimilation (different values for the same sign or group of signs) – Beyond the ubiquitous generic bird (standing for the values m, w, bȝ, ȝ ʿḳ, w), note in particular: –

–

(col. 6–7), with birdassimilation of signs, in direct succession, e.g., bird, successively for w and bȝ, in ỉw bȝ (rʿ ḏwỉ=f …) “The ba (of Re calls …)”; and in close vicinity, e.g., (col. 7): snake- …-snake, successively for ḏ and f, in ḏwỉ=f “calls”; assimilation of a group of signs, e.g., … (col. 4, 9), first as m-ḳ in m ḳ(rrt) “in the cavern,” then as ʿḳ-ḳ in ʿḳ(=f …) “when (he) enters (…).”

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–

Inversion (assimilation and dissimilation combined) – The following chain, extending from col. 4 to 11, has different shapes for the same value, and different values for the same shapes, combined. First, the forms are dissimilated ( and , both for t). Then, the same two forms also come to stand for another value, m: – 4 t – 5 t, t–6 t – 8 t, m – 10 m – 11 t —— (17 t) (overall pattern: Ax-Bx-Bx-Ax-Bx-By-Ay-Bx (Bx))

–

Rhythms and patterns – A general sense of rhythmical repetition results from the inscription being written mostly with a very small number of signs. (As elsewhere, this is made possible by the reduction of the spellings to mostly uniliteral phonograms and by the polyvalency of several signs.) Thus, counting occurrences of signs in the main text (the “annotation”): 17×; 11×; 9×; 7×; 7×; 5×; (…), with the six most common signs accounting for 56/91 = 61.5 % of all sign occurrences in the text, and the two most common signs for 28/91 = 30.1 %. As a result of this concentration on a small number of signs, a great many patterns present themselves to the eye. For instance: … (col. 8–9; sim. in col. 5, see below); A.B … B.A in close association: A.B, over a distance: – – (col. 7, 11, 13); note that all four occurrences of the sun disk in the inscription are in association with the snake. The eye is easily attracted by such recurrent associations of signs and seduced into constructing longer chains of these. One possible such construction is, in col. 11–16 (with A standing for , B for , C for , and D for ; underscore for A–B in sequence, grey for A–C, and wavy underscore for C–D): 13 15 16 – 11A.–.–.–.B.–.12A.A.B.A.C. D.–.B.–.A.C.14C.–.D.C. -------------- -------- –.–.C.B.D. --- --- –.–.–.D.–.C --- ---

– –

The longer the beholder stares at the inscription, the more he may construct such patterns based on what is offered in the surface of the enigmatic text. For instance, taking a more absorbed look at col. 4–7:

–

–

(col. 5–7): A.B.B.–.–.A.B.B;

–

(col. 4–6): palindrom, D.C.B.A.–.A.B.C.D (with

as D).

Generalized inversion across the visual field – Letting himself be adrift across the visual field, the absorbed beholder is led to construct chains that associate (groups of) signs by assimilation and/or dissimilation. This results in a generalized inversion across the visual field as a whole. E.g.:

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–

ỉw (particle) as →

–

(col. 6)

for ỉm(t) “that is in/there” (col. 4–5, 12, 13) (assimilation) (col. 8) (dissimilation) → ỉm “there” as or ḥȝt “light” (col. 11) (assimilation); →

ḥbs, in ḥbsy-ʿ “clothed with respect to arm” (18, caption to left standing mummy) s, in sḫrw “fashion, condition” (annotation, bottom of col. 2, just → atop the same sign in the caption to left standing mummy) (assimilation) s, in ḥbsy-ʿ “clothed with respect to arm” (18, in caption to left → discussed first) (dissimilation) standing mummy, just below ḥtm, in ḥtmy-ʿ “destroyed with respect to arm” (20, right → standing mummy, standing opposite the caption to left standing mummy) (assimilation) ḥtm, in ḥtmyt “place of destruction” (annotation, col. 5) → (dissimilation), at the center of the palindrom discussed above.

Other patterns could be identified: given the overall reduction discussed first, repetition and rhythm are everywhere in the enigmatic text in the BSOU. What matters is this: that a great many such patterns can be seen (the ones described above and others), and that there is no necessary hierarchy by which some such patterns should be seen as superordinate to others – so that the beholder, in engaging the enigmatic text visually ever more deeply, gets absorbed into an increasingly dense and enveloping web of such rhythms and patterns.

3 A delayed, absorbed reading The two-step alteration process described first thus has major effects on the visual surface of the enigmatic text. As the above discussion shows, its effects on reading are no less thorough-going. In analytical terms, these can be approached first in terms of a lesser resolution of enigmatic writing. As noted in the first section, words in regular hieroglyphic writing have more or less conventional spellings (one or several per given word, varying with periods and types of texts) that are layered in structure and carry much built-in redundancy. These spellings also convey essential information about segmentation: bi-consonantal (or tri-consonantal) phonograms indicate that the two (or three) consonants belong to the same word (rather than being the last of one word and the first of the next word); word boundaries can be indicated through semantic determinatives (/classifiers) that stand at the end of the

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word or when the spelling is logographic, one sign standing for the word as a whole. Conventionalization, layered structure, built-in redundancy, and indications for segmentation are all general characteristics of natural (empirically attested) writing systems.17 In enigmatic writing of the sort considered here, all the above are altered dramatically in the first step of alteration discussed in section 1. Spellings are deconventionalized. Semantic information is lost almost entirely: logograms are rare, and semantic determinatives are either absent or reduced to the most generic determinatives possible such as the plural sign or the book roll.18 Information on segmentation is much reduced too, being limited to those few determinatives that are not suppressed. Spellings are much reduced, often to the bare consonantal skeleton: they are flat in structure, and redundancy is suppressed by and large.19 The overall effect on reading is illustrated in the short enigmatic text below. This is contrasted with a back-transcription of the same text into regular writing, demonstrating notably how the enigmatic spellings lack in semantic information and how cues for segmentation are much reduced, being limited to the plural determinative (“pl.”). The immediate effects of the second step of alteration – substitution – are indicated by question marks bearing on those signs whose value is at first not clear. Rather than being able to scan words as words, as he would in regular writing, the reader is left floating through a mostly flat, continuous string of signs:

Fig. 6: BSOU, pl. 5B (Second Shrine of Tutankhamun, Side 1, Scene 4).

n-n-n-n-ṯ-rw--pl. ?-s-ẖr-p-n-?-ḳ-r-t--pl. s-n-pl. ?-t-pl. ḥr-?-?-w-n-n-?-?-t s-n-pl. ?-?-?-?-pl.

17 Incidentally, observe that the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) – which focuses on the sole phonetic dimension, presents no layered structure, and is free of any redundancy – is a notational system, not a natural writing system. 18 In enigmatic writing in some Netherworld Books other than BSOU, semantic determinatives are retained, but substituted with typically highly generic ones: this too results in a much reduced semantic resolution of the spelling. See Werning 2011, 99–105, for the Book of Caverns. 19 On the reduction of redundancy, similarly Werning 2011, 105.

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Back-transcription into regular writing:

nn–n god-pl m s-ḫ-r-abstract p-n m ỉm-y-t ḥr-r-y-t-sky wn-n-n ẖȝ-t-mummy m k-k-w-night

q-r-r-t-place-pl.

s-n-pl.

s-n-pl.

nn n nṯrw m sḫr pn m ḳrrwt=sn ỉmỉt ḥryt wnn ẖȝt=sn m kkw “These gods are in this fashion in their caverns which are in the Upper Region: it is in the darkness that their corpses(?) exist.” 20

Another, very brief example may illustrate the same processes as well as serving to introduce further dimensions of altered reading: – (…) pn šp tp (…) “(…) this (fashion): with a shining head (…)” (BSOU, pl. 4B; Second Shrine of Tutankhamun, Side One, Scene 121) The word tp “head,” rather than being written logographically ( ), is here broken down into its phonetic components, t and p. Similarly, the word šsp šsp-p-sun), “shine,” rather than being writing with a triradical phonogram ( is reduced to its phonetic components, š and p (with the change šsp > šp). All cues for segmentation are thus suppressed: the reader is confronted with a continuous, un-hierarchical, string of signs. In this short sequence, one sign (the spewing_mouth) is repeated no less than three times, attraction attention. It attracts further attention through its visual otherness from regular writing ( has a higher visual resolution, is more iconic, and is therefore more visually salient overall than the regular sign for p, ). Rather than being able to scan words and cruise across the text, as in regular reading, the eye remains stuck with the individual signs and is lured into associating these with one another beyond the linear sequence of underlying speech. As this example illustrates, the patterns and rhythms described in the previous section add to the altered reading. They do so, for example, when assimilation extends across word boundaries (see the examples in section 2) or when assimilation of groups suggests the wrong segmentation, in both cases setting “traps” to the reader. But the effects of these figures of repetition (assimilation, dissimilation, and inversion, of signs and of groups, etc.) are at once more general and thorough-going.

20 Reading, Darnell 2004, 64–69. 21 Reading, Darnell 2004, 43–45, 50–51.

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Like the enhanced iconicity of the signs, patterns and rhythms contribute to the overall visual otherness of the enigmatic text. They attract attention writing, and away from the underlying linguistic sequence. They open webs of possible associations across the visual surface of the enigmatic text, against linguistic sequentiality. In regular forms of writing, such as in Egyptian cursive writing, the reader scans chunks of visual information, typically words as a whole. Within such chunks, the signs efface themselves behind a conventional value that is automatically triggered in the context of an itself more or less conventionalized word-spelling. Coming with a dense aesthetic presence, iconic force, and culturally encyclopedic load, hieroglyphic writing is not primarily about fast decoding. But it has, structurally, all the characteristics of natural writing systems discussed above. These are suppressed in enigmatic writing such as described here. Given the loss of information for segmentation, the reader is confronted with a continuous string of signs sitting next to one another. Given the loss of redundancy, he is left to figure out the value of each and every sign individually. In addition, individual mono-consonantal signs are substituted with others. Given the principles of analogical association on which these substitutions are based, the reader is called upon to bring to mind a whole set of possibilities for each individual sign, according to its multiple sides – its visual referent, shape, and phonetic and semantic associations. Rather than being surrogates for a value, the signs pose an enigma, and resonate with other signs. The reader is made to engage these, one by one, intensively. Rather than cruising across the line, the reader “stumbles” upon the individual signs. What is more, the visual otherness of the enigmatic text – the higher visual resolution of individual signs, and the patterns and rhythms in the text – attract attention, away from linguistic sequentiality, to the shimmering visual surface of the text itself. The reader must go through the thickness of writing itself. He gets absorbed into the visual rhythms and patterns of the text. The experience of reading becomes a “dazzled” one.

4 A visual otherness, withdrawn from visibility Recast in more general terms, much of what was discussed above could be said of enigmatic writing more broadly. Enigmatic writing in general – not just in the BSOU or even the Netherworld Books – is defined by its visual otherness and by the particular experience of a delayed or absorbed reading it calls for. In other settings, enigmatic writing is visible, it comes with a bold visual presence, and can have strongly addressive dimensions. In the Netherworld Books, however, it is inscribed in places, the funerary apartments of kings, in which it is withdrawn from visibility. This raises the final question of how the categories of visual otherness and altered reading, discussed in the present paper, can be relevant in places where there is no beholder. In addressing this apparent paradox, two preliminary observations must be made. First, the compositions in question circulated (in those places, presumably

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temples, in which they were devised and through Vorlagen for their inscriptional realization, possibly further in relation to other functions they may have had too), so that enigmatic writing in these compositions would have been visible for some. Yet these compositions had their destination (or, at least, one destination) in places in which enigmatic writing could not be seen, so that the question of the function of enigmatic writing there remains. The second point is that this question cannot be solved by invoking non-empirical beings (gods) as putative addressees. Absent any indications for such, the inscription of these compositions, including enigmatic writing in these, in places that were withdrawn from visibility must be interpreted as a practice that was deemed meaningful and effective by those people that were involved in it or had knowledge of it.22 It has been observed that enigmatic writing, in the BSOU and in Netherworld Books more generally, is associated with contents that are liminal in nature and štȝ “difficult to access, hidden.” 23 In its visual otherness, enigmatic writing is an index of the otherness of a world that is difficult to comprehend. Through a systemic reduction of the characteristics of natural writing systems, compounded with a foregrounding of writing as such, reading is delayed. The visual patterns and shimmering surface of the enigmatic text make for an absorbed or dazzled experience of that text – an experience that becomes itself a figuration of domains of signification that can be pointed at only obliquely. Inscribed in the funerary appartments of king, in a space that also contains the dead ruler’s body, enigmatic writing projects a line of indexical contiguity with this other world that this ruler is to traverse. Writing, here, does not represent nor communicate, but brings about, in ways that were meaningful and important to ancient actors. To establish this performative force of writing, they altered writing in its very substance, doing so on the only two dimensions on which any writing can be altered: how it can be seen and how it relates to language.

Bibliography Darnell, J. C., 2004, The Enigmatic Netherworld Books of the Solar-Osirian Unity: Cryptographic Compositions in the Tombs of Tutankhamun, Ramesses VI and Ramesses IX. OBO 198. Fitzenreiter, M., 2015, “(Un)Zugänglichkeit. Über Performanz und Emergenz von Schrift und Bild,” Materielle TextKulturen 6, 179–208. Manassa, C., 2004, Appendix of Cryptographic Values, in: J. C. Darnell, Enigmatic Netherworld Books, 587–617. Meeks, D. 2018. Les Égyptiens et leurs mythes. Appréhender un polythéisme, Paris. Piankoff, A., 1952, Les chapelles de Tout-Ankh-Amon. MIFAO 72. Piankoff, A., and N. Rambova, 1954, The Tomb of Ramesses VI, New York. Piankoff, A., and N. Rambova, 1955, The Shrines of Tutankhamun, New York.

22 Fitzenreiter 2015, discussing the more general problematic. 23 Darnell, this volume; 2004, 471–482.

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Sauneron, S., 1982, L’écriture figurative dans les textes d’Esna. Esna VIII. Schenkel, W., 1971, “Zur Struktur der Hieroglyphenschrift,” MDAIK 27, 85–98. Werning, D., 2008, “Aenigmatische Schreibungen in Unterweltsbüchern des Neuen Reiches: gesicherte Entsprechungen und Ersetzungsprinzipien,” in: C. Peust (ed.) Miscellanea in honorem Wolfhart Westendorf. GM Beihefte 3, 124–152. Werning, D., 2011, Das Höhlenbuch. Textkritische Edition und Textgrammatik. GOF IV, 48.

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