Egyptology in Australia and New Zealand 2009: Proceedings of the conference held in Melbourne, September 4th-6th 9781407309415, 9781407339221

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BAR S2355 2012 KNOBLAUCH & GILL (Eds) EGYPTOLOGY IN AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND 2009

B A R

Egyptology in Australia and New Zealand 2009 Proceedings of the Conference held in Melbourne, September 4th-6th

Edited by

Christian M. Knoblauch James C. Gill

BAR International Series 2355 2012

Egyptology in Australia and New Zealand 2009 Proceedings of the Conference held in Melbourne, September 4th-6th

Edited by

Christian M. Knoblauch James C. Gill

BAR International Series 2355 2012

ISBN 9781407309415 paperback ISBN 9781407339221 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407309415 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR

PUBLISHING

 

Contents Editors` Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iii List of Papers Presented at the First Australasian Conference for Young Egyptologists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iv A History of Egyptology at Monash University, Melbourne, by C. HOPE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .vi J. COX, Trade and Power: The Role of Naqada as a Trading Centre in Predynastic Egypt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 V. CROWN, Antecedents to the Ptolemaic Mammisis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 J. GILL, Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 E. HEALEY, The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27   J. HELLUM, The Use of Myth in the Pyramid Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .41 A. HOOD & J. VALENTINE, The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics: Applying a New Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 C. HUBSCHMANN, Searching for an Oasis Identity: Dakhleh Oasis in the Third Intermediate Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 D. JAMES, Ambiguous Images: The Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 C. KNOBLAUCH, The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period: A Reinterpretation of Buhen Stela 691 and Related Objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 J. KREMLER, On Interpreting the Meaning of Amulets and Other Objects using the Frog Motif as an Example . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .97 R. LONG, Administrative Control of Egypt’s Western Oases during the New Kingdom: A Tale of Two Cities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 L. MAWDSLEY, It Really is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan . . . . . . . .115 M. PITKIN, Invisible History: The First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) Museum Exhibitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .125 A. SHACKELL-SMITH, The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah: An Art-historical and Epigraphic Re-appraisal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 D. STEWART, Characterisation and Legitimisation in the Doomed Prince . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 S. VOLK, The Typology of 26th Dynasty Funerary Figurines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 Colour Plates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 

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ii

 

 

Editors’ Preface The First Australasian Conference for Young Egyptologists took place between September 4th and 6th, 2009 at Monash University, Melbourne. Its aim was to provide a forum for early career researchers from Australia and New Zealand to present their research to their peers without leaving the hemisphere and to forge new ties between the departments teaching Egyptology in those two countries. On both counts it can be described as a success. After review, 28 papers were accepted for presentation from young academics representing seven different institutions in Australia and New Zealand. These were Auckland University, La Trobe University, Macquarie University, Melbourne University, Monash University, the National Gallery of Victoria and the Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine. In order to encourage maximum participation, no “theme” was set and thus the resulting set of papers well-illustrated the differing teaching and research foci of the various institutions in the region, taking in distinctly different chronological as well as methodological approaches. A full list of papers presented at the conference is included in the current volume. The conference benefited immensely from the presence of experienced colleagues including Dr Susanne Binder (Macquarie), Dr Gillian Bowen (Monash), Dr Malcolm Choat (Macquarie), Dr Mark Eccleston (La Trobe), Dr Jennifer Hellum (Auckland), Assoc. Prof. Colin Hope (Monash), Assoc. Prof. Christiana Köhler (Macquarie) and Assoc. Prof. Boyo Ockinga (Macquarie). Dr Jennifer Hellum and Dr Mark Eccleston kindly offered to present papers in the regular sessions, while Assoc. Prof. Christiana Köhler was invited to open the conference with a paper titled “State Formation in Theory and Practice”. All are thanked for their involvement. Happily, the conference coincided with the 20 year anniversary of the establishment of Egyptology at Monash University and Assoc. Prof. Colin Hope gave an account of the history of this discipline at Monash. The text of that contribution is included in the current volume. Special thanks are also due to Assoc. Prof. Colin Hope and Dr Gillian Bowen for their contribution towards many aspects of the conference’s organisation. The proceedings in this volume are a collection of 16 of the papers presented at the conference that have been selected for publication through a system of double-blind peer review. We are grateful to the anonymous reviewers for their careful examination of the papers and for their many useful comments and suggestions. These have been worked into the final versions of the papers where possible. The editors also wish to acknowledge the efforts and patience of the authors during the publication process. Finally, the editors thank the publishers of British Archaeological Reports for the inclusion of this volume in the International Series. The Editors

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Papers Presented at the First Australasian Conference for Young Egyptologists ALMOND, Mathew (Macquarie University) The Old Coptic Horoscope: A Case Study for Language Contact in Graeco-Roman Egypt COX, Jessica (Monash University) The Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Incomplete Predynastic Burial Data: A Naqada Case Study CROWN, Vanessa (Macquarie University) Antecedents to the Ptolemaic Mammisis (Old Kingdom to Late Period) DAVEY, Janet (Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine/Dept. of Forensic Medicine, Monash University); DRUMMER, Olaf (Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine/Dept. of Forensic Medicine, Monash University); RANSON, David (Victorian Institute of Forensic Medicine/Dept. of Forensic Medicine, Monash University) Computerised Tomography Scanning and Graeco-Roman Mummies in the BM DUNSMORE, Amanda (National Gallery of Victoria/North Kharga Oasis Survey) Late Roman Ceramics from Northern Kharga Oasis ECCLESTON, Mark (La Trobe University) Prickly Plants and Faience: The Use of Plant Ashes as Alkalis in Vitreous Materials Production at Amarna FLEMMING, Kristal (Melbourne University) Greek and Carian Identity in Saite Egypt: The Finds from Naukratis and Saqqara GILL, James (Monash University) Greek or Egyptian? Examining Identity through Ptolemaic Period Pottery from Mut el-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis HAMILTON, Caleb (University of Auckland) Aspects of International Law in Ancient Egypt: The so-called ‘Treaty of Kadesh’ HEALEY, Emmeline (Monash University) The Decorative Program of Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Themes of the Egyptian Military and Akhenaten HELLUM, Jennifer (University of Auckland) Myth in the Old Kingdom Pyramid Texts HOOD, Amber (Macquarie University); VALENTINE, James (Macquarie University) The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Ceramics: Establishing a New Methodological Approach HUBSCHMANN, Caroline (Monash University) Searching for an Oasis Identity: Dakhleh Oasis during the Third Intermediate Period JAMES, Daniel (Monash University) Ambiguous Images: The so-called ‘Females’ among the Rock-art of Dakhleh Oasis KEITH, Michelle (Macquarie University) “And it was this big…” Marine Life in Old Kingdom Tomb Scenes KNOBLAUCH, Christian (Monash University) The Ruler of Kush at Buhen KREMLER, Joy (National Gallery of Victoria) Frog Amulets and Figures from the Predynastic Period to the First Intermediate Period KUCERA, Paul (Monash University) El-Qasr, the Roman Castra of Dakhleh Oasis and the Roman Military Presence in the Western Desert of Egypt LONG, Richard (Monash University) The New Kingdom in the Western Desert iv

 

  MAWDSLEY, Lisa (Monash University) A Review of the Named Serekhs from the Naqada III Cemetery of Tarkhan MCKENZIE, Chip Brett (University of Auckland) Folkloric Aspects of Late Egyptian Stories MILES, Beverley (Macquarie University) Rare and Enigmatic Scenes of the Human-Dog Relationship in Art of the Old Kingdom PITKIN, Melanie (Macquarie University) Invisible History: the First Intermediate Period in UK Museum Exhibitions RENTON, Stephen (Macquarie University) Royal Propaganda in Ancient Egypt: Anachronism or an Audience for Monumental Discourse? SHACKELL-SMITH, Aaron (University of Auckland) The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah: An Art-historical and Epigraphic Re-appraisal STEWART, David (University of Auckland) Characterisation and Legitimisation in the Doomed Prince VOLK, Sharyn (Melbourne University) The Exceptional Forms of Egyptian Funerary Figurines of the 25th and 26th Dynasties WALKER, Heather (Auckland University) The Temples of Gebel Barkal

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A History of Egyptology at Monash University, Melbourne The First Australasian Conference for Young Egyptologists held at Monash University in September 2009 brought together younger scholars from Australia and New Zealand. It was the brainchild of Christian Knoblauch, who was then a lecturer in the Centre for Archaeology and Ancient History, School of Historical Studies, at Monash University, who had graduated from Macquarie University and who thus linked the two major teaching and research centres in Egyptology in Australia. The success of the conference was very much the result of his enthusiasm and dedication to involving young researchers from Monash in this collaborative venture, and I wish to pay tribute to his efforts. The conference fortuitously coincided with the twentieth anniversary of the introduction of Egyptology at Monash University, which was followed very soon by the establishment of the Egyptology Society of Victoria. The manner in which the discipline was established at Monash was not conventional and involved many people whom I would like to acknowledge here. The impetus came from the exhibition entitled Gold of the Pharaohs, which was displayed throughout Australia as part of the celebrations for the Australian bicentenary in August 1988 to June 1989 and which I curated. This was organised by The International Cultural Corporation of Australia and Museum Victoria, and was driven by the determination and commitment of Robert Edwards. At the time of its display this exhibition was visited by more Australians than any other previous exhibition seen in Australia. As a result of this incredible level of interest, Gillian Bowen organised a petition amongst students in the Department of Classics and Ancient History at Monash requesting the introduction of a unit on ancient Egypt, and a one-day series of lectures was organised to raise funds for the unit, which was offered in second semester 1989. It was then decided that a committee should be formed to investigate the full establishment of a lectureship in Egyptology. This comprised Alan Henry, Saul Bastomsky and Peter Bicknell, staff from the Department, Gillian Bowen, myself and Graham Geddes, a Melbourne antiquities collector. In 1990 the Australian National Gallery in Canberra and Museum Victoria hosted another exhibition entitled Civilization: ancient treasures from the British Museum, which had been organised by James Mollison and curated by Timothy Potts. Monash organised another one-day lecture series at which staff of the British Museum, the exhibition curator, John Barron and Robert Merrillees all spoke. This was attended by an audience of over 300 from various parts of Australia. Simultaneously Graham Geddes made a generous donation to the university that was partly matched by the local businessman Rino Grollo, and further donations were received from Peter and Suzie Rowland, and Rosemary and Eric Cromby. This enabled a two-year part-time position to be established. Shortly afterwards Museum Victoria joined Monash University to establish a joint position for the teaching of Egyptology and the curation of the collection of Mediterranean antiquities. The success of the teaching programme at Monash was such that after two years the then Dean of the Faculty of Arts, Marian Quartly, approved a full-time continuing position at Monash. Throughout this process the Egyptology Society of Victoria raised considerable funds to support the programme and purchase library material. In the mid-1990s a full BA honours programme in Archaeology was established at Monash, the principal component of which was Egyptology and the first postgraduate completions soon followed. In 1999 the Centre for Archaeology was established within what would become the School of Historical Studies. At the time of writing this note, the renamed Centre for Archaeology and Ancient History comprises four staff members, teaching not only Egyptology but ancient history and classical archaeology, with an undergraduate enrolment of in excess of 800 students and a thriving postgraduate community. Several graduates now make significant contributions to the discipline, namely Anna Stevens and Wendy Dolling at Amarna, Mark Eccleston in the study of high temperature materials, and Amanda Dunsmore, who is senior curator of International Decorative Arts at the National Gallery of Victoria, and who has worked with teams at Amarna, Memphis and Kharga Oasis. vi

 

  The papers in this volume indicate the quality and scope of research being undertaken within Australia and New Zealand. Following the first conference it was unanimously agreed that this would become a biannual event and the second conference was held at The University of Auckland in July 2011. This attracted participants from the USA and Europe following the decision to enable scholars of any age and origin to participate. The next meeting will be held at Macquarie University, Sydney, in 2013.

Colin A. Hope, Associate Professor Director Centre for Archaeology and Ancient History School of Philosophical, Historical and International Studies Monash University

 

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Trade and Power: The Role of Naqada as a Trading Centre in Predynastic Egypt Jessica Cox South towns. The text is by no means an exhaustive account of the graves excavated at Naqada; Out of the 2,256 graves numbered on the cemetery map, they only provide detailed drawings and descriptions of 24 (Petrie and Quibell 1896, pl. LXXXVI). A further 115 graves described as ‘notable’ were discussed briefly with another 44 discussed in terms of the treatment of the body (Petrie and Quibell 1896, 18-33).

INTRODUCTION There is a prevailing belief that in the later Predynastic Period the site of Naqada was a target for its political rivals (Hendrickx & Friedman 2003; Kemp 2006, 81). This is due largely to its prime geographic location at the mouth of the Wadi Hammamat where it had direct access to both the vast mineral resources of the Eastern Desert, particularly gold, and direct access to the Red Sea (Trigger 1983, 39). This is reflected in the dynastic name of the site, ‘Nubt’, that has been typically translated as ‘[city] of gold’ (Midant-Reynes 2000, 198). Further demonstrative of the site’s perceived importance has been the choice of scholars to name both the current relative dating system (developed by Hendrickx 1996; 2006) and the general material culture of Upper Egypt after it. Based upon Bard’s (1994, 111-115) analysis on the rise of complex society in Egypt it was revealed that Naqada displays a steady growth in social complexity or differentiation in the Naqada I and II periods, but has comparatively poor burials, in terms of grave goods, in the Naqada III period.1 It is suggested that Naqada’s decline was brought about at the hands of one of the other major Upper Egyptian centres, Abydos or Hierakonpolis, perhaps in an effort to exploit Naqada’s access to trade routes, gold and other raw materials (Trigger 1987, 61; Bard 1994, 115; Midant-Reynes 2000, 200). The aim of this paper is to test the hypothesis that Naqada was a centre for trade in the Predynastic Period and whether or not disruption to foreign trade was a factor in the decline of the site. 2

Jacques de Morgan (1897) reinvestigated the site in 1896, uncovering the remains of another cemetery located to the south of the Great New Race Cemetery. The so-called ‘Royal Cemetery’ contained two large mastaba tombs, one of which has been identified as belonging to Queen Neithotep, the wife or mother of King Aha of the First Dynasty (Kahl 2001, 14). In addition to these larger tombs, de Morgan found ‘several hundred’ burials belonging to the ‘common people’ of the ‘first Egyptians’ (de Morgan 1897, 159). Of these burials, de Morgan provides no information. Dickinson (1980, 23) notes that late 19th and early 20th century excavation reports are inadequate for modern investigations, but in the case of Naqada, and indeed many other Predynastic Egyptian sites, these early excavation reports are often the only information available. This raises a large methodological concern; namely, is the data too fragmentary to be of any use? This is a question that cannot be answered at this early stage. I acknowledge that there is the distinct possibility that the Naqada material will indeed prove to be too inadequate for the purposes of this analysis.

THE PROBLEMS WITH THE NAQADA MATERIAL

It is fortunate, however, that considerable work has been done to recover as much information about the Naqada burials as possible (Baumgartel 1970; Hendrickx 1986; Payne 1987). Yet it should be pointed out that in many cases the number of burial goods listed by Baumgartel (1970) in the grave registers are at odds with the number of objects depicted on the tomb cards (Petrie Museum 1999). This effectively rules out quantitative analysis as a viable option for analysing the Naqada mortuary material.

It needs to be made clear from the beginning that the material remains from Naqada are horribly incomplete, both in terms of what has survived and what was published. Petrie and Quibell (1896) were the first to work at Naqada in 1894 – 1895, excavating three cemeteries: the Great New Race Cemetery, Cemetery B and Cemetery T, and two settlements: the North and 1 When writing about social differentiation I refer to the belief that this phenomenon represents a central facet in the evolution of complex society (Richards 2005, 14). Richards (2005, 14) believes that ‘social differentiation’ is a blanket term that incorporates both social inequality and social stratification. The former is defined as the differential access to economic resources by socially distinct groups (Paynter 1989, 36970) whereas social stratification is the ordering of society, based on this access to resources, into distinctive classes (Service 1975, 498). 2 The term ‘decline’ is one that has not been properly defined by previous authors; it may refer to either a decrease in population or a decrease in the quality and quantity of burial goods. For the purposes of this paper, the terms ‘decline’, ‘collapse’ or ‘demise’ takes into account both of these phenomena.

A question that needs to be considered is: what evidence for economic decline would one expect to find in the mortuary record? If foreign trade were a major contributor to the economic strength of Naqada, then I would expect to find a reasonably large amount of imported materials in the Naqada I and II burials with a noticeable decrease in the Naqada III phase. Therefore, this analysis is based around a statistical analysis of how many burials contain imported goods. In this sense it is quantitative, but it does not take into account the total

1

JESSICA COX predynastic period, Egypt had far-reaching contacts that extended from sub-Saharan Africa in the south to the Near East and Afghanistan in the north (Trigger 1987, 60). The most common materials being imported at this time include ebony, ivory, incense and possibly obsidian from the south, turquoise and copper from the Sinai Peninsula, rock-crystal from either the Sinai or the Western Desert of Egypt, marine shells from the Mediterranean and Red Sea Coasts, lapis lazuli from Afghanistan, silver and resin from the Near East and manufactured goods, like cylinder seals, from Mesopotamia (Trigger 1987, 60).

number of objects made from imported materials in each burial, but simply the number of burials containing imports. This is further broken down into each separate material in order to individually analyse Naqada’s relationship with different regions. Since it is not possible to date every burial due to lack of recording, the relative wealth of each time period is calculated by determining the percentage of burials containing imports. This is a much more accurate method than simply comparing the number of burials in each period. This is because there is always the possibility that some periods have graves that are easier to date than others (Näsman 1994, 21).

300

In terms of the chronology of Predynastic Naqada, I have placed the burials into a narrower time frame than that adopted by Bard (1994, 43-6) previously. Table 1 below lists the modified relative chronological periods used in this analysis, along with the corresponding Naqada dates (as defined by Hendrickx 1996, 2006) and Bard’s (1994) original sequence.

250

Late Naqada III

Late Naqada III

Graph 1 The dates of the Naqada graves.  It is not yet fully understood how these goods found their way into Upper Egypt. Mark (1998, 125) argues that materials coming from Mesopotamia, Syria and Palestine likely arrived in Egypt by sea routes. In particular, Mark (1998, 129) argues that the goods coming from Mesopotamia reached Egypt via the Red Sea and the Wadi Hammamat. It should be noted that the evidence cited by Mark (1998, 129) for such contact consists exclusively of boat motifs present on portable artifacts, like the Gebel el-Arak knife handle and decorated pottery, as well as Tomb 100 at Hierakonpolis and the rock-art in the Wadi Hammamat, all of which were made in Egypt from local materials. However, as Hendrickx and Bavay (2002, 73) note, the lack of Mesopotamian artifacts found in Egypt suggests that there was no direct contact between the two cultures at this time. Furthermore, little is known about Predynastic Egyptian ships or contemporary foreign ships (Landström 1970, 22). Hendrickx and Bavay (2002, 73) argue that if there were any contacts between Egypt and Mesopotamia, they were likely indirect through an intermediary in the Southern Levant.

Naqada IID1/2-IIIA1 Naqada IIIA1-IIIB

Naqada III

Early Naqada III

Date

Naqada IIB-IIC Naqada IIC-IID2

Naqada II – Naqada III

Late Naqada II

Naqada IC-IIA Naqada IIA-IIB

Naqada II

50 0

Naqada IA-IB Naqada IB-IC

Naqada I – Naqada II

100

Early Naqada II

Naqada I

Corresponding Hendrickx Dates Naqada IA

150

Late Naqada I

Early Naqada I Early to Middle Naqada I Middle to Late Naqada I Late Naqada I to Early Naqada II Early Naqada II Early to Late Naqada II Late Naqada II Late Naqada II to Early Naqada III Early Naqada III Early to Late Naqada III

Bard’s Dates

200

Early Naqada I

Modified Dates

Number of Graves

A NOTE ON CHRONOLOGY

Naqada IIIB-IIIC1 Naqada IIIC1-IIID (Dynasty I)

Table 1 Modified chronological system for the Naqada  cemeteries.  Given the problems with the published data, it was not possible to date all of the graves. Of the 1,303 published burials, it was only possible to place 814 into the above chronological divisions (See Graph 1 opposite).

PREDYNASTIC EGYPTIAN TRADE: A BRIEF BACKGROUND The procurement of exotic foreign raw materials and objects is suggested to have played an integral role in the unification of Egypt and in the establishment of the centres at Naqada, Hierakonpolis and Abydos (Trigger 1987, 61; Bard 1994, 115; Wilkinson 2000, 382). 3 In the

Contact with the Southern Levant is generally thought to have consisted of a land route from the Nile Delta to southern Palestine via the northern Sinai region (Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 73; Wengrow 2006, 39). Wengrow (2006, 39) notes that in the mid-fourth

3

The term ‘trade’ is a two-way process that implies a reciprocal exchange of goods. This study focuses specifically upon what the Egyptians were importing and how this may have played a role in Naqada’s economic situation. What the Egyptians were exporting is a different issue and, as such, does not play a major role in this analysis.

2

Trade and Power: The Role of Naqada as a Trading Centre in Predynastic Egypt As already noted, Naqada’s geographical location in Egypt gave it direct access to the gold mines and extensive mineral resources of the Eastern Desert via the wadi Hammamat, as well as direct access to the Red Sea. This gave Naqada a distinct advantage over other sites in Upper Egypt. Not only was it possible to travel to the Sinai or the Levantine coast via the Eastern Desert and the Red Sea respectively, but also the proximity of gold mines and other minerals in the Eastern Desert gave Naqada a wealth of material that could easily have been exchanged for exotic imports. The purpose of this paper is to identify with whom Naqada was trading throughout the Predynastic Period, in order to ascertain whether the site fell into political and/or socio-economic decline through the loss of trade routes.

millennium BCE, there was an establishment of a packdonkey route through this area, which caused a number of small sites to emerge throughout the northern Sinai. It is in the Early Naqada II period that small amounts of Egyptian material, such as D-ware pottery and slate palettes, found their way into the southern Levant (Wengrow 2006, 39). There have also been a number of imports found at Minshat Abu Omar in the Eastern Nile Delta, further implying that Egypt’s relations with the Levant were carried out overland via the Sinai (Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 73). Given that imported objects are found throughout the Nile Valley, it is likely that once the goods reached the Delta region they were carried via the river and distributed to sites in Upper Egypt (Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 73). It is possible that there was also an overland route from Upper Egypt to the Sinai region via the Eastern Desert.

There are two questions that need to be answered before definitively concluding that Naqada’s ‘decline’ came about from a loss of trading power: what evidence for trade do we actually have at Naqada, and is there enough evidence to suggest that disruption to foreign trade was a factor in the collapse of the site?

The relationship between Egypt and the Southern Levant was largely exploratory in the beginning, during the Naqada I period, with contact between the two areas sporadic at best (de Miroschedji 2002, 47). It was not until the Naqada II period that Egypt began to directly exploit the resources of the Levant, establishing groups of Egyptian settlers in the region to ensure access to exotic materials (de Miroschedji 2002, 47). However, these contacts were still relatively minimal and were largely restricted to the southern and central areas of Israel (Braun 2002, 181). It was not until the Late Naqada III and Early Dynastic Period that there is definitive evidence for official contact between the rulers of the two regions, as evidenced by the royal serekhs that were found in the Soreq Basin in Israel (Braun 2002, 182).

THE EVIDENCE FOR TRADE AT NAQADA For this analysis, it is necessary to first determine which materials are foreign. I have found eight different types of material that could be considered imports: Copper Of all of the materials discussed in this analysis, copper is the most questionable as an import. The possibility that copper was a local product, rather than an import, must be considered. Copper occurs in both its metallic form and in copper-rich ores (Ogden 2009, 149), with both of these occurring naturally in the Eastern Desert of Egypt and in the Sinai, at Serabit el-Khadim in the southwest and Timna in the Wadi Arabah (Ogden 2009, 149). It is the occurrence of native copper in Egypt that has cast doubt on this material as an import (Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 60). The presence of finished copper products alongside copper ores in the northern Sinai suggests that both the raw material and technology reached the Sinai from the highly developed metal industry of the southern Levant and thence into Egypt (Oren 1973, 205). Golden (2002, 225) believes that copper was one of the major commodities traded between Egypt and the Southern Levant.

With the rising demand for luxury goods and imports, it is believed that the sites of Naqada, Abydos and Hierakonpolis each sought to monopolise access to these trade routes (Savage 1997, 258). The rulers of these sites, according to Trigger (1987, 60), were actively involved as traders and more than likely profited – politically and financially – by their ability to control these resources and tax those who wished to access them. Hassan (1988, 172) suggests that any military conflict amongst the larger Predynastic centres may have been attributable to trade disputes. In terms of Naqada, Bard (1994, 106) suggests that the increased display and rivalry present in the Naqada II burials is representative of this growing importance of trade and therefore, the drop in the number of ‘wealthy’ graves in the Naqada III period is due to conflict between the large Predynastic centres. As a result of this economic competition, Naqada seems to have been absorbed by either Abydos or Hierakonpolis.

Evidence from sites in the Delta, such as Minshat Abu Omar suggests that the metalworkers at these sites were the recipients of copper ores, ingots and technology from the Levant (Golden 2002, 235). As it stands there is no direct evidence to suggest that copper was being mined or extensively worked in Egypt in the Predynastic Period, although there is always the possibility that the copper was procured from an unknown source in the Eastern Desert. However, copper is included in this section on foreign imports as its provenance at this stage is unknown and it is more than likely that it was being imported from Sinai or the Southern Levant at this time.

Hendrickx and Bavay (2002, 73) note that in the Early Naqada III period imported goods rarely occur at the sites in Upper Egypt (i.e. Naqada) where they were attested previously. The only exceptions to this rule are Abydos and Hierakonpolis, which seems to confirm the theory that Naqada was eclipsed by one of these two sites at the end of the Naqada II period.

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JESSICA COX

Cylinder Seal

Resin

Cylinder seals are not commonly found in Predynastic Egyptian burials, with the few that have been recovered all appearing to date to the Late Naqada II period (Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 73). These early examples appear to have been manufactured in Mesopotamia and constitute the earliest known imports from this region (Hennessy 1967, 34; Hendrickx & Bavay 2002, 73). The lone dateable example at Naqada is located in tomb no. 1863 in the Great New Race Cemetery and belongs to the Late Naqada II period. Baumgartel (1970, 60) does not make note of what raw material the cylinder seal is made from. A second cylinder seal made from limestone was found in an undateable burial (T29) in Cemetery T (Payne 1987, 189). This evidence may suggest that any trade links between Naqada and Mesopotamia were incidental at this stage.

It is difficult to determine the exact source of the resin found in Egyptian burials. Serpico and White (2009, 430) note that resin has often been confused with amber and bitumen, which are similar in appearance, therefore the possibility that the Naqadan examples are not resin must be kept in mind. Limited deposits of resin are known to exist in Egypt, but there is no evidence to suggest that these were exploited in ancient times (Serpico and White 2009, 430). There are many different types of resin and as such, it is difficult to determine exactly where the Predynastic examples came from. Prag (1986, 71) argues that the likeliest sources of the Predynastic resin are Cicilian Fir, Aleppo Pine or Umbrella Pine from Palestine or southern Syria. Serpico and White (1998, 1037) note that the resins used in Egypt belong to two different botanical families, Pinaceae (pine, cedar and fir) and Cupressaceae (cypress and juniper), none of which are found further south than Lebanon, therefore pointing to an Eastern Mediterranean origin. To date, no examples from Naqada have been subjected to chemical analysis so it is impossible to determine exactly where the resin samples, if they are indeed resin, were procured.

Lapis Lazuli Lapis lazuli is not known to have occurred naturally in Egypt (Lucas 1948, 455; Aston et al. 2009, 39). The primary source of lapis lazuli for ancient Egypt is located in the Badakhshan region of north-eastern Afghanistan with four ancient quarries known at the sites of Sar-iSang, Chilmak, Shaga-Darra-i-Robat-i-Paskaran and Stromby (Aston et al. 2009, 39). Bavay (1997, 80) notes that deposits of lapis lazuli also exist in the Lake Baikal area in Eastern Siberia but it is unlikely that Egyptian examples were procured from this region. It has also been suggested that lapis lazuli may even have been sourced from Egypt itself, from the Eastern Desert or from Dakhleh or Kharga Oasis (Butzer 1982, 637; Needler 1984, 311), but Bavay (1997, 80) notes that Egypt does not have the necessary geological conditions for this to be the case. Therefore, we can reasonably assume that the examples of lapis lazuli found at Naqada come from the Afghani quarries.

Rock-crystal Rock-crystal was typically imported into Egypt from the Sinai Peninsula but also occurs naturally in the Western Desert between the Fayum region and Bahariya Oasis (Aston et al. 2009, 52). It was predominantly used for beads, although there are some examples of rock-crystal vessels, including some from the royal burial at Abydos (Aston et al. 2009, 52). Silver and Lead Like copper, silver and lead have also been suggested as having a local source in the Predynastic Period. They are included here together as it has not always been possible to distinguish between the two. Silver can be found in several different contexts: as ‘aurian silver’, a natural alloy that has a high gold content; ‘dry silver ores’ such as argentine or pyrargyrite, ‘native silver’ found in silver sulphide ores like galena or argentine and in lead ore (Gale & Stos-Gale 1980, 286; Ogden 2009, 170). Gale and Stos-Gale (1980, 286) report that there are no known examples of the native or dry silver ores in Egypt. Ogden (2009, 170) tells us that galena does occur naturally in the Eastern Desert of Egypt, but the silver levels in the Egyptian galena ores are not high enough to have been used as a viable source for the metal. Ogden (2009, 170) also notes that while it is probable that ‘aurian silver’ was found in the gold mines of the Eastern Desert and Nubia, lead isotope analysis does not point to a local source for any Predynastic examples.

Obsidian While obsidian is not known to occur naturally in Egypt, the provenance of it is not a settled issue. Midant-Reynes (2000, 236) notes that the closest sources to Egypt are located in Ethiopia to the south, in Eastern and Central Anatolia and the Aegean to the north. Lucas (1948, 476) examined obsidian specimens from the Cairo Museum and private collections and concluded that the majority were obtained from Abyssinia (modern day Ethiopia and Eritrea). It has also been suggested that some obsidian was imported from Anatolia and reached Egypt via the Red Sea from Mesopotamia (Zarins 1989, 366). More recent analyses of Upper Egyptian obsidian from burials at Naqada, Abydos and Hierakonpolis match reference samples from Ethiopian sources, namely the Ethiopian highlands, the Eritrean coast or the volcanic fields of Yemen and south-western Saudi Arabia (Bavay et al. 2000, 15). Bavay et al. (2000, 18-19) suggest that obsidian most likely entered Upper Egypt via the Red Sea and the wadis of the Eastern Desert.

If we are to assume that silver and lead were indeed imported at this stage, then it is likely that the examples from Naqada come from eastern Anatolia, the closest known source (Prag 1986, 40). Prag (1986, 41) notes that

4

Trade and Power: The Role of Naqada as a Trading Centre in Predynastic Egypt there is a high concentration of silver artefacts at Byblos and as such suggests that silver arrived in Egypt via Byblos and the Levant.

almost exactly the same as that for Early Naqada III (8.33%). However, as for variety of imports, Late Naqada II contains each type with the exception of obsidian.     25     20       15     10     5     0              

Turquoise

Table 2 Burials that contain more than one type of  import.  The majority of the burials containing multiple types of imported materials date to the Late Naqada II period. The only common denominator in these groupings is copper, which is present in six out of the eight burials. This is not surprising when considering that copper is by far the most common imported material.

Late Naqada III

Early Naqada III

Late Naqada II

14% 12% 10% 8%

When splitting the total number of graves containing imports into their time periods, the following picture emerges (See Graph 2 opposite). Graph 2 seems to confirm the notion that there was a disruption to trade after the Late Naqada II period. As we can see, there is a higher amount of imports dating to the Late Naqada II period compared to any other. But if we look at the Yaxis we can see that this only constitutes 23 graves.

6% 4% 2%

Early Naqada I

0%

Given that there are a much larger number of Late Naqada II burials dateable at Naqada, this result is not surprising. If the graves containing imports were instead examined using the percentage of graves containing imports in each time period, a somewhat different picture emerges (Graph 3).

Late Naqada III

Late Naqada II Late Naqada II Early – Late Naqada II Late Naqada I

  Graph 2 Number of graves containing imported   materials in each time period.       20%     18%   16%  

Early Naqada III

836 1248 1260 1858

Date

Late Naqada II

Late Naqada II Late Naqada II Late Naqada II Late II – Early Naqada III

Imported Materials Present Copper, Resin Copper, Silver Lapis lazuli, Rock-crystal Obsidian, Resin Copper, Lapis lazuli, Resin Copper, Rock-crystal Copper, Obsidian Copper, Lapis lazuli

Early Naqada II

Date

Late Naqada I

Grave No. 39 63 690 743

Early Naqada I

Of the 814 burials that have been included in this study, only 52 (6.4%) contain any imported material. Only eight burials contain more than one type of import, which is detailed in Table 2:

Early Naqada II

AN ANALYSIS OF THE IMPORTED MATERIALS AT NAQADA

Late Naqada I

Number of Graves

The only known source for Predynastic turquoise occurs in the Sinai Peninsula at Wadi Maghara (Aston et al. 2009, 62), although as Hendrickx and Bavay (2002) note, the identification of Egyptian examples is sometimes doubtful.

Date

Graph 3 Percentage of graves containing imported materials in each time period.

Graph 3 shows that the largest percentage of imports occurs in the Early to Late Naqada I period, that is, 3 out of a total of 18 graves. What is more interesting is that the percentage of imports for Late Naqada II (8.21%) is

Table 3 details how many different types of import appear in each time period.

5

JESSICA COX

Imported Materials Copper

E-MI

M-LI

LI

LI-EII

EII

E-LII

EIII

E-LIII

LIII

TOTAL

~

1

2

2

4

3

LII LII-EIII 13

~

2

~

~

27

Cylinder Seals

~

~

~

~

~

~

1

~

~

~

~

1

Lapis Lazuli

~

~

1

1

~

~

4

~

1

1

~

8

Obsidian

~

~

~

~

~

1

~

1

2

~

~

4

1

3

1

~

~

3

2

~

~

~

10 5

Resin

~

Rock-Crystal

~

1

~

1

~

~

3

~

~

~

~

Silver

~

~

~

~

1

~

2

~

~

~

~

3

Turquoise

~

~

~

~

~

~

3

~

~

~

~

3

TOTAL

~

3

3

4

2

2

7

2

3

1

~

N/A

Table 3 Types of imports used in each time period. 

CONCLUSIONS

Bavay, L. 1997. ‘Matière première et commerce à longue distance: le lapis-lazuli at l’Égypte prèdynastique’. Archéo-Nil 7: 79-100.

Table 3 shows that copper is the most consistently used imported material at Naqada, followed by resin, lapis lazuli and rock-crystal. These all would require trade routes to the north, for the Sinai, Near East and Afghanistan respectively. In fact, the only material that was likely obtained from south of Egypt was obsidian. There is no distinctive pattern in each time period that might suggest a loss of any particular trade route. The few imports in Naqada III graves come from both the north (copper, lapis lazuli) and the south (obsidian). Even though only a small amount of Naqada III burials contain imports, they indicate that some small level of longdistance trade is still present.

Bavay, L; De Putter, T; Adams, B; Navez, J; André, L. 2000. ‘The Origin of Obsidian in Predynastic and Early Dynastic Upper Egypt’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 56: 5-20. Braun, E. 2002. ‘Egypt’s First Sojourn in Canaan’. In Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th Through the Early 3rd Millennium BCE, edited by van den Brink, E. C. M; Levy, T. E. London: Leicester University Press, 173-189. Butzer, K. 1982. ‘Ostwüste’. Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band IV, edited by Helck, W; Westendorf, W. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 637.

The one definitive conclusion that can be made from the analysis of imported materials is that there is no quantifiable evidence that trade goods played an important role in the burial assemblage of any period, let alone was a major factor in the site’s decline. This conclusion seems to be at odds with the notions that a) foreign trade played a significant role in the formation of the Egyptian state and b) that Naqada’s foreign trade connections made it a target for political rivals. While it is impossible to completely disprove this theory, the evidence in the cemeteries show that trade played a very minor role at Naqada, at least as evidenced by the surviving burials, and that perhaps existing state formation theory needs to reconsider this as the catalyst for Naqada’s supposed decline.

de Miroschedji, P. 2002. ‘The Socio-Political Dynamics of Egyptian-Canaanite Interaction in the Early Bronze Age’. In Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th Through the Early 3rd Millennium BCE, edited by van den Brink, E. C. M; Levy, T. E. London: Leicester University Press, 39-57. de Morgan, J. 1897. Recherches sur les Origines de l’Egypte: Ethnographie Préhistorique et Tombeau Royal de Négadah. Paris: Ernest Leroux. Dickinson, T. 1980. ‘The Present State of Anglo-Saxon Cemetery Studies’. In Anglo-Saxon Cemeteries 1979: The Fourth Anglo-Saxon Symposium at Oxford, edited by Rahtz, P; Dickinson, T; Watts, L. British Archaeological Reports British Series 82 Oxford: BAR, 11-33.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Aston, B.G; Harrell, J.A; Shaw, I. 2000. ‘Stone’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P. T; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 5-77.

Gale, N. H; Stos-Gale, Z. A. 1980. ‘Sources of Galena, Lead and Silver in Predynastic Egypt’. Revue D’Archéométrie: Actes du XX Symposium International D’Archéométrie, Paris 26-29 Mars 1980 3: 285-296.

Bard, K. A. 1994. From Farmers to Pharaohs: Mortuary Evidence for the Rise of Complex Society in Egypt. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press.

Golden, J. 2002. ‘The Origins of the Metals Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean: Social Organization of Production in the Early Copper Industries’. In Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th Through the Early

Baumgartel, E. J. 1970. Petrie’s Naqada Excavation: A Supplement. London: Bernard Quaritch Ltd.

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Trade and Power: The Role of Naqada as a Trading Centre in Predynastic Egypt 3rd Millennium BCE, edited by van den Brink, E. C. M; Levy, T. E. London: Leicester University Press, 225-238.

Needler, W. 1984. Predynastic and Archaic Egypt in the Brooklyn Museum. New York: Brooklyn Museum.

Hassan, F. A. 1988. ‘The Predynastic of Egypt’. Journal of World Prehistory 2(2): 135-185.

Ogden, J. 2000. ‘Metals’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P. T; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 148-176.

Hendrickx, S. 1986. ‘Predynastische objecten uit Naqada en Diospolis Parva (Boven-Egypte) ’. Bulletin van de Koninklijke Musea voor Kunst en Geschiedenis 57(2): 31-44.

Oren, E. D. 1973. ‘The Overland Route between Egypt and Canaan in the early Bronze Age’. Israel Exploration Journal 23: 198-205. Payne, J. C. 1987. ‘Appendix to Naqada Excavations Supplement’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 73: 18189.

Hendrickx, S. 1996. ‘The Relative Chronology of the Naqada Culture: Problems and Possibilities’. In Aspects of Early Egypt, edited by Spencer, A. J. London: British Museum Press, 36-69.

Paynter, R. 1989. ‘The Archaeology of Equality and Inequality’. Annual Review of Anthropology 18: 369-99.

Hendrickx, S. 2006. ‘Predynastic – Early Dynastic Chronology’. In Ancient Egyptian Chronology, edited by Hornung, E; Krauss, R; Warburton, D. A. Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section 1: The Near and Middle East, 83. Leiden: Brill, 55-93.

Petrie Museum. 1999. The Petrie Museum Archives (CDROM). London: University College. Petrie, W. M. F; Quibell, J. E. 1896. Naqada and Ballas. Warminster: Aris and Phillips Ltd.

Hendrickx, S; Bavay, L. 2002. ‘The Relative Chronological Position of Egyptian Predynastic and Early Dynastic Tombs with Objects Imported from the Near East and the Nature of Interregional Contacts’. In Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th Through the Early 3rd Millennium BCE, edited by van den Brink, E. C. M; Levy, T. E. London: Leicester University Press, 5880.

Prag, K. 1986. ‘Byblos and Egypt in the 4th Millennium BC’. Levant 18: 59-73. Richards, J. 2005. Society and Death in Ancient Egypt: Mortuary Landscapes of the Middle Kingdom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Savage, S. H. 1997. ‘Descent Group Competition and Economic Strategies in Predynastic Egypt’. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 16: 226-268.

Hendrickx, S; Friedman, R. F. 2003. ‘Gebel Tjauti rock inscription 1 and the relationship between Abydos and Hierakonpolis during the early Naqada III period’. Göttinger Miszellen 196: 95-109.

Serpico, M; White, R. 1998. ‘Chemical Analysis of Coniferous Resins from Ancient Egypt using Gas Chromatography/Mass Spectrometry (GC/MS)’. In Proceedings of the Seventh International Congress of Egyptologists, edited by Eyre, C. J. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 82 Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters, 1037-1048.

Kahl, J. 2001. Vergraben, Verbrannt, Verkannt und Vergessen: Funde aus dem “Menesgrab”. Münster: Satz & Druck. Kemp, B. J. 2006. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilisation. 2nd edn. London: Routledge.

Serpico, M; White, R. 2000. ‘Resins, Amber and Bitumen’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P. T; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 390-474.

Landström, B. 1970. Ships of the Pharaohs: 4000 Years of Egyptian Shipbuilding. London: Allen & Unwin. Lucas, A. 1948. Ancient Egyptian Materials and Industries. London : Edward Arnold & Co.

Service, E. R. 1975. Origin of the State and Civilization: The Process of Cultural Evolution. New York: Norton.

Mark, S. 1998. From Egypt to Mesopotamia: A Study of Predynastic Trade Routes. London: Chatham Publishing.

Trigger, B. G. 1983. ‘The Rise of Egyptian Civilisation’. In Ancient Egypt: A Social History, edited by Trigger, B. G; Kemp, B. J; O’Connor, D; Lloyd, A. B. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1-70.

Midant-Reynes, B. 2000. The Prehistory of Egypt: From the First Egyptians to the First Pharaohs. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

Trigger, B. G. 1987. ‘Egypt: A Fledgling Nation’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 17: 58-66.

Näsman, U. 1994. ‘The Iron Age Graves of Öland – Representative of What? On Prehistoric Graves as a Source of Information’. In Prehistoric Graves as a Source of Information: Symposium at Kastlösa, Öland, May 21-23 1992, edited by Stjernquist, B. Stockholm: Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademien, 15-30.

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JESSICA COX Wengrow, D. 2006. The Archaeology of Early Egypt: Social Transformations in North-East-Africa 10,000 to 2650 BC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilkinson, T. A. H. 2000. ‘Political Unification: Towards a Reconstruction’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 56: 377-395. Zarins, J. 1989. ‘Ancient Egypt and the Red Sea Trade: the Case for Obsidian in the Predynastic and Archaic Periods’. In Essays in Ancient Civilisation Presented to Helene J. Kantor, edited by Leonard Jr, A; Williams, B. B. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 339-369.

8

Antecedents to the Ptolemaic Mammisis Vanessa Crown INTRODUCTION were built adjacent to larger temples. Although these structures had different configurations, where temple scenes and decoration survive all had a common ideological function: to facilitate the worship of the divine birth of a local child-god associated with the pharaoh.

The Ptolemaic mammisi was a small chapel adjacent to a larger temple, dedicated to the child-god of the local triad. Rituals celebrating the mystery of the divine birth of this child-god were held in the mammisi. Each mammisi was associated with a unique program of worship, dominated by the main temple complex with which it was associated. All Ptolemaic mammisis shared distinctive architectural features which included, but were not limited to, papyrus-bundle or palm-featured columns, Hathor-headed capitals, screen walls and a columned ambulatory surrounding the central sanctuary and associated halls (Arnold 2003, 33). The interior of the mammisis were decorated with detailed scenes depicting the mystery of the divine birth and texts outlining the rituals that were performed there. By the end of the Ptolemaic period, mammisis appeared in the majority of Egyptian temple complexes and played a significant role in daily cult and annual festivals.

This paper surveys those monuments that share similar features to the Ptolemaic mammisis, thus investigating the complex architectural and ideological antecedents to Ptolemaic mammisis from the New Kingdom, Third Intermediate and Late Periods. It will be seen that there was an evolution in religious ideology and structural design that accommodated local traditions, which were themselves, in part, preconditioned by a changing political situation.

THE EGYPTIAN TRADITION The ideological basis for the divine birth myth can be traced back to the Old Kingdom, and be seen to develop through the Middle and New Kingdoms. The most familiar examples of divine birth scenes are found at Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahari and Amenhotep III’s birth chamber at Luxor.1 Despite some variations in characters and dialogue, the narrative remains the same for both: After discussing his plans with a council of gods and goddesses, Amun, taking on the guise of the current pharaoh, visits the queen and impregnates her with the future pharaoh. The child is then fashioned by a god, such as Khnum, and the queen gives birth in the presence of protective deities. The gods and goddesses of Egypt take turns in praising the young pharaoh. Hathor and other celestial cows nurse him. Amun recognises the child as a legitimate ruler of Egypt and successor to the current pharaoh.2 The New Kingdom divine birth story stressed the filial relationship between the reigning pharaoh and the deities of Egypt. The pharaoh thus had a divine lineage and was the direct offspring of Amun.

Most scholarly attention has been overwhelmingly dedicated to the well-preserved Ptolemaic and Roman mammisis, with scholars concentrating on documenting and analysing the rituals and divine birth scenes in their refined decoration and extensive texts. Yet issues such as where the Ptolemaic mammisi came from and whether there were earlier mammisis (or antecedent structures), has not been thoroughly explored. There is a gap in our knowledge from when divine birth scenes seem to vanish at the end of the New Kingdom and when they reappear in a particularly sophisticated form, in the context of the Ptolemaic mammisi. There are currently no comprehensive studies on the development of mammisis. To produce one we must ask why the ancient Egyptian concept of divine birth grew in such significance that worship demanded a separate area within the temple complex, why this happened at the beginning of the Ptolemaic period, and what led to this Ptolemaic development. Despite the frequent appearance of mammisis in Egyptian temples, only two significant works study them in detail: Borchardt’s architecturally focused Ägyptische Tempel mit Umgang (Borchardt 1938) and Daumas’ chronologically-structured architectural and textual study Les mammisis des temples Égyptiens (Daumas 1958). Neither study dedicates a discussion to the evolution of the mammisi as a unique architectural form. Daumas (1957, 496-503) remarks that mammisis evolved from the divine birth scenes on such monuments as Hatshepsut’s mortuary temple at Deir el-Bahari and Amenhotep’s birth chamber at Luxor, but ventures no further. The form and function of possible pre-Ptolemaic mammisis is poorly documented by modern scholars. In the Third Intermediate and Late Periods, several small monuments

The overall narrative of the divine birth cycle, its characters and motifs is fundamental to the Ptolemaic mammisi. The focus of the drama, however, shifts away from the birth of the pharaoh towards the birth of a childgod who is identified with the pharaoh. Through the celebration of the birth of a young god, the ruling pharaoh was confirmed as the legitimate successor of Amun on earth. The young god was suckled on Hathor’s divine 1

Although tempting, I will not enter into debate surrounding the original function of blocks found at Medinet Habu from the Ramesseum (Desroches Noblecourt 1991, 25-50). 2 The Hatshepsut narrative follows Naville (1897, 12-18, pl. XLIV-V). That of Amenhotep III follows Brunner (1986).

9

VANESSA CROWN milk symbolising the transference of divine authority. When the pharaoh was identified with the child-god, his claim to divine authority was confirmed.

LATE PERIOD The longer, more stable reigns of the Late Period kings created ideal conditions for monumental building campaigns. Possible mammisis can be identified before the Persian invasion, but they are often poorly preserved or were constructed in the Delta and later destroyed. Those constructed at the end of the Late Period were renovated, moved or entirely dismantled by Ptolemaic and Roman rulers later in Egypt’s history. With the reestablishment of Egyptian rule, a campaign of nationwide renovation and construction resumed. The mammisi was more frequently integrated into existing and emerging temple complexes throughout Egypt.

THIRD INTERMEDIATE PERIOD The Third Intermediate and Late Periods were a crucial time for the development of the mammisi temple form. The evidence available to us is affected by the length of the kings’ reigns and the geographical location of the monuments. Most Third Intermediate Period kings had short reigns and, perhaps consequently, limited time and resources to fund major building programmes. Despite this several kings concentrated on securing control of Egypt’s borders and consolidating existing monuments. Significant building programmes that were undertaken, however, were often located in the political centre of Egypt, (the Delta) where preservation of monuments is notoriously poor. Despite these limiting factors, several possible mammisis have been discovered. The two best examples are the Temple of Mihos at Bubastis and the Temple of Khonspakhered at Karnak.

Temple of Harpare at Karnak Karnak remained a significant place of worship and festivity for the kings of the Late Period. After the Persian invasion, the Temple of Harpare in the Monthu complex was renovated. During the reign of Nepherites I, a mammisi was constructed in the Temple of AmunreMonthu for Harpare, the son of Raittaui and Monthu (Robichon and Christophe 1951, 15-18, pl. 50-52; Arnold 1999, 100). This mammisi was not located adjacent to the main temple, but was directly attached to it, parallel to its axis. Hakoris constructed a hypostyle hall of two by four columns and decorated these columns with papyrus leaves and Hathor-headed capitals. The entrance to the sanctuary incorporated screen walls connecting the first pair of columns. Towards the end of the Late Period, a colonnaded court and pylon were constructed to the front of the mammisi.

The Temple of Mihos at Bubastis The kings of the 22nd Dynasty were the first to return to monumental building campaigns. In the reigns of Osorkon I and Osorkon II an opulent temple to the goddess Bastet was constructed in Bubastis (Naville 1891, 12-13; Arnold 1999, 39; Habachi 1999, 46-55). Located to the north and at a right angle to the Bastet temple is a small rectangular ancillary structure. It was dedicated to Bastet’s son Mihos and was associated with the birth of Osorkon II (Habachi 1999, 46-55). Early excavations revealed red-granite palm and papyrusbundle columns. Today the structure does not exist above the foundations.

Tell el-Balamun At Tell el-Balamun, the Amun temple complex was rebuilt following its destruction by the Persians. Northeast of the forecourt, a rectangular ‘mammisi’ was constructed. Today, however, nothing remains above the sand-filled foundations. Excavators identified the structure as a mammisi according to its position and size (Spencer 1999, 56; Spencer 2009, 27).

The Temple of Khonspakhered, Karnak In the 25th Dynasty reign of Taharqa, the Temple of Khonspakhered located in the north-eastern corner of the Mut Precinct at Karnak, was rebuilt and converted into a possible mammisi. The new monument contained a sanctuary, offering hall and transversal hall. The aisles of the halls featured papyrus-bundle columns. In front of the sanctuary, a court and pylon were added with three colonnades of palm columns (Pillet 1952, 469-478; Brooklyn Museum 2009). The surviving temple scenes celebrate the birth of Khonspakhered, the son of Amun and Mut (Fazzini 1988, 30-31, pl. IV-VIII). A chapel dedicated to Taharqa’s daughter Nitocris stood in the court opposite scenes depicting the divine birth, identifying Khonspakhered with Taharqa.

Temple of Nehemetaway at Hermopolis Magna The temple of Thoth at Hermopolis Magna was particularly favoured by Nectanebo I. As part of a larger renovation of the entire complex, a small mammisi was constructed beside the Thoth temple. The original mammisi built by Nectanebo was dedicated to Thoth’s consort Nehemetaway and featured a hall with Hathorheaded columns. It was dismantled, moved and reconstructed in the north-eastern area of the complex during the reign of Emperor Domitian (Spencer 1989, 4050). Several papyrus capitals and one Hathor-headed capital were recovered and are now displayed in the Cairo Museum (Spencer 1989, 44-50).

The physical location of these subsidiary structures, the use of palm and papyrus-bundle columns, the identification with the child-god of the local triad and, in the case of the Temple of Khonspakhered, a clear association with the divine birth of the reigning king, shows that the Ptolemaic mammisis may have had antecedents as early as the Third Intermediate Period.

10

Antecedents to the Ptolemaic Mammisis and its location as an ‘entry point’ for any invading armies. Therefore, a monument adjacent to a larger temple may be a barque sanctuary or kiosk. Papyrusbundle columns or Hathor-headed capitals were not exclusively used in mammisis. The evidence for identification with the child-god of the local triad or the ruling king does not exist.

El-Kab The temple complex of El-Kab honoured Nekhbet as a goddess of birth. The mammisi at El-Kab was located at a right angle to the main temple, in the court between the first and second pylons. It included a shrine surrounded by a columned ambulatory, which featured Hathorheaded capitals (Arnold 1999, 133, pl. XII).

While there are many difficulties in identifying early forms of the mammisi, we should entertain the possibility that these monuments were early birth houses or subsidiary structures that fulfilled a similar role. The survey of antecedents to the Ptolemaic mammisis, both identifiable and possible, reveals that their distribution throughout Egypt was inconsistent. Their inclusion in existing and new temple complexes was not part of an overarching plan, as is indicated by the variety in shape, size and design.

Dendera Of the two now famous mammisis from Dendera, the oldest was constructed in front and to the side of the Hathor temple by Nectanebo I. It identifies Nectanebo I with Harsomtous, the child of Hathor and Horus. Although partially destroyed by the construction of a Roman mammisi and a later Coptic church, the original structure included a triple shrine that opened onto a transversal hall (Daumas 1959, 81-86).

Geographical placement notwithstanding, the simultaneous appearance of mammisis with varying degrees of sophistication is indicative of their gradual construction and evolution.

Philae As part of several enlargements to the Isis complex on the island of Philae, a rectangular kiosk was constructed in front of the original Late Period temple. The kiosk featured four by six columns and was decorated with floral columns and Hathor-headed capitals. While the kiosk may have functioned as a barque station, it more probably formed part of the ambulatory or porch of a larger structure, perhaps a mammisi (Lyons 1908; Haeny 1985, 197-233). By the early Ptolemaic period, the kiosk was reconstructed on the south-eastern end of the island, making room for the larger Ptolemaic mammisi that was constructed on the eastern side of the court between the first and second pylons. With the relocation of Nectanebo’s kiosk at Philae began a fervent period of construction undertaken by the Ptolemies. Almost every major temple complex in Egypt was outfitted with a mammisi that celebrated the birth of a young god in daily ritual and annual festivals (Arnold 1999, 288).

ARCHITECTURAL FEATURES Decorative architectural features, such as column and capital design, are important symbolic markers for the religious ideology associated with the mammisi. Papyrusand palm-decorated columns with Hathor-headed capitals are seen in early mammisis at the Temples of Mihos and Khonspakhered, structures which are constructed in similar positions and dimensions to the Ptolemaic mammisis. In the Ptolemaic mammisis at Edfu, papyrus-decorated columns were used in the ambulatory surrounding the main temple area. The closely-positioned columns imitated the swamps of Chemmis, where Isis secretly raised Horus (Badawy 1963, 78-90). The increasing numbers of columns used in pre-Ptolemaic mammisis may indicate an early attempt to recreate a similar mythological allusion. Hathor-headed capitals symbolised the feminine element of the mammisi temple (evoking childbirth and fertility aspects). Hathor-headed capitals in a possible mammisi before the Ptolemaic period are first attested in the Temple of Harpare. Their frequent use reflects the goddess’ increased importance in the divine birth cycle.

This survey of antecedents to the Ptolemaic mammisis allows us to establish some basic trends in ideological and architectural development, and identify some potential hazards. Clearly identifiable mammisis, such as the Temples of Hermopolis Magna, Karnak and Dendera, were positioned adjacent to or were attached to larger temples. Their location indicates an ideological association with the larger monuments in the enclosure. These mammisis were dedicated to the child-god of the local triad (the young Khonsu in the Precinct of Mut; Harpare, the son of Raittaui and Monthu; Harsomtous, the son of Hathor and Horus) and identified the child-god with the ruling king.

One of the most significant scenes in the mystery of the divine birth was the suckling of the newborn infant by Hathor. This act signalled the transference of divine authority. Hathor’s milk rejuvenated and nurtured the young god and, by extension, the reigning king, not only in divine birth scenes, but also in column decoration. The adoption of such symbolism by pre-Ptolemaic priests reflects innovations in religious thought, particularly a movement towards perpetuating conventional iconographic traditions and religious consolidation.

The identification of mammisis in the Delta, at Bubastis and Tell el-Balamun, is more problematic as foundations alone survive. The Delta region is notorious for its poor preservation of monuments due to its more humid climate, high population, frequent use of limestone (and subsequent dismantling of monuments for this resource)

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VANESSA CROWN The swamps of Chemmis were no longer particular to the Horus myth, but became the backdrop for the birth and early nurturing of any child-god of a local triad. Aspects of the Horus myth were invoked and the concept of divine protection from evil was shared.

The reassessment of kingship ideology demanded changes in ritual and new sacred spaces, such as kiosks to accommodate the growing importance of the God’s Wife of Amun and Shena wab buildings, used for the preparation of food offerings.4 Given the brevity of control and constant competition between the princedoms of the Third Intermediate Period, structures built to accommodate new trends in worship were incorporated into established complexes where lengthy construction periods could be minimised and existing monuments rebranded. By the Late Period, more stable reigns created favourable conditions for the consolidation of Egyptian cultural identity and a concentration on building programmes.

Hathor reassumed her ‘mother goddess’ role when she became the divine wet-nurse for the young god. Her milk took on a greater importance as the essence of divine authority (Daumas 1958, 168-206). By the Ptolemaic Period, Hathor and Isis took on similar aspects and their identities were more closely affiliated.

FORM AND FUNCTION

One must also consider the local character of religious worship in Egypt. The geographic locations of political centres changed. New religious centres emerged. The inclusion of mammisis within temple complexes is, therefore, a reflection of the changing dynamic of Egyptian society.

As changes in religious ideology were manifested in particular architectural features, the evolution of the mammisi structure reflects changes in form to accommodate developments in cultic function. The divine birth scenes of the New Kingdom were incorporated into the architectural context of larger temple complexes. The integration of the scenes into a larger architectural setting may reflect their relatively minor role in daily or annual ritual. Cultic requirements may not have demanded a separate structure until the Third Intermediate Period.

CONCLUSIONS When the Ptolemies ruled Egypt, they inherited a repertoire of architectural forms and religious ideologies that were still in flux. The development of the mammisi did not end. Rather, these monuments entered a more elaborate phase, when prolonged stability and economic prosperity created the prime conditions for the development of the divine birth cycle, its associated cults and sacred spaces. The mammisi did, however, retain its local character. The roles played by mammisis in temple festivals were never standardised, but took on more theatrical aspects, which may have involved costumed priests re-enacting the drama (Daumas 1958, 418-419).

The variety in shapes and sizes of mammisis in the Third Intermediate and Late Periods indicates that their ritual role was not standard throughout Egypt, but reflected local practices.3 These differences in local practices may also assist in accounting for the sporadic appearance of mammisis throughout Egypt. At Bubastis, Tell elBalamun and Hermopolis Magna, the presence of a oneroomed mammisi chapel on the temple axis may have fulfilled a relatively simple, processional ritual function. In contrast, the inclusions of offering halls, courts, screen walls and multi-chambered sanctuaries at the Temples of Khonspakhered, Harpare and at Dendera may indicate the presence of more complex daily and annual rituals, in response to cultic demands. More room was required for preparation and increased sacred space was needed to accommodate larger groups of attendants.

Architectural design reflected changes in ritual. At Dendera, a staircase led to a rooftop altar for solar rituals (Daumas 1958, 103-104). At Philae and Edfu, columned ambulatories surrounded the main sanctuaries and chambers, allowing priests to move around the mammisi without leaving the sacred space while carrying out rituals (Daumas 1958, 488-492). Mammisis continued to function until, under the Roman Empire, construction of new mammisis slowed and then ceased.

Why then did mammisis appear at the beginning of the Third Intermediate Period? What change in religious thought took place that signalled a demand for a separate cultic space? Why did their numbers increase so dramatically towards the end of the Late Period?

The mammisi was the product of a lengthy and complicated evolution. The ideology of the mammisi originated in the divine birth scene, fundamental to New Kingdom kingship. While the narrative structure remained largely unchanged, the characters and rituals surviving the lengthy period from New Kingdom to Late Period were influenced by the significant social and cultural challenges, both internal and external, facing Egypt. The apparent gap in scholarly knowledge regarding the development of mammisis may be

The fall of the New Kingdom began a period of transition. There were challenges to the Egyptian worldview that required a gradual redefinition of their cultural identity. This lead to archaising movements in art and architecture, innovative trends in religious worship and a reassessment of kingship ideology. Consequently, the shift in the divine birth cycle from the birth of the reigning king to the birth of a child-god identified with the king was the end result of this process.

4 For a discussion of the God’s Wife of Amun during the Saite Period, see Myśliwiec (2000, 112-115). For a discussion of the archaising tendencies of Late Period art and architecture, see Arnold (1999, 107108).

3 For Daumas’ review of the festivals celebrated in mammisis throughout Egypt, see Daumas (1958, 236-285).

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Antecedents to the Ptolemaic Mammisis explained by the poor preservation of archaeological evidence; there may, in fact, have been several ‘missing links’ in the chain from Amenhotep III’s birth chamber at Luxor to Nectanebo I’s kiosk at Philae, in places where today only foundations of small, auxiliary structures remain.

Daumas, F. 1957. Les Mammisis des temples égyptiens. Société d’édition „Les Belles Lettres“ 95. Paris: Boulevard Raspail.

Despite the fragmentary nature of the evidence, it is clear that several mammisis did exist before the Ptolemaic Period, albeit in a primitive form. Their appearance indicates a change in worship practices, and a need for cultic space for completing rituals associated with the divine birth. By uncovering the evolution of the mammisi we reveal a physical manifestation of the very dynamic changes Egypt underwent during the Third Intermediate and Late Periods. The rituals performed in the mammisi reflect yet another aspect of the network of cult required to perpetuate order and stability in ancient Egyptian society. The Third Intermediate and Late periods were not ‘Dark Ages’ but were times of cultural consolidation and innovation, when old architectural forms retained traditional meaning, but were interpreted in new light; ancient gods and goddesses retained their traditional roles, and took on new functions; and kingship, once central to society, now uncertain, could be guaranteed in the character of the local child-god.

Desroches Noblecourt, C. 1991, ‘Le mammisi de Ramsés II au Ramesseum’. Memnonia 1: 25-50.

Daumas, F. 1959. Les mammisis de Dendera. Cairo: l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale.

Fazzini, R. 1988. Egypt Dynasty XXII-XXV. Iconography of Religions XVI 10. Leiden: Institute of Religious Iconography State University Groningen. Habachi, L. 1999. ‘Tell Basta’, Cahiers Supplémentaires des Annales du Services des Antiquités de l’Égypte 22: 46-55. Haeny, G. 1985. ‘A short architectural history of Philae’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 85: 197–233. Lyons, H. G. 1908. A Report on the Temples of Philae. Ministry of Public Works. Cairo: National Printing Department. Myśliwiec, K. 2000. The Twilight of Ancient Egypt, First Millennium B.C.E. Trans. Lorton, D. Ithaca; London: Cornell University Press.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Altenmüller, H. 1997, ‘Auferstehungsritual und Geburtsmythos’. Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 24: 121.

Naville, E. 1891. Bubastis (1887-1889). Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund 8. London: Kegan Paul; Trench; Trübner & Co.

Arnold, D. 1999. Temples of the Last Pharaohs. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Naville, E. 1897. Temple of Deir el Bahari II. Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund 14. London: Egypt Exploration Fund.

Arnold, D. 2003. The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Egyptian Architecture. Trans. Gardiner S. H; Strudwick, H, edited by Strudwick, N; Strudwick, H. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Robichon, C; Christophe, L. A. 1951. ‘Karnak Nord III, 1945-1949’. Fouilles de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 23: 15-18, Plates 50-52.

Badawy, A. 1963. ‘The Architectural Symbolism of the Mammisi-Chapels in Egypt’. Chronique d’Égypte 38 (75): 78-90.

Spencer, A. J. 1989. Excavations at El Ashmunein II: The Temple Area. London: British Museum Press. Spencer, A. J. 1999. Excavations at Tell el-Balamun 1995-1998. London: British Museum Press.

Borchardt, L. 1938. Ägyptische Tempel mit Umgang. Beiträge zur ägyptischen Bauforschung und Altertumskunde 2. Cairo: Selbstverlag des Herausgebers.

Spencer, A. J. 2009. Excavations at Tell el-Balamun 2003-2008. London. Accessed 27 March 2010. Available at: http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/research_ projects/excavation_in_egypt/reports_in_detail.aspx.

Brooklyn Museum, 2009. ‘Features: Mut Precinct, History: The Mut Precinct and How it Grew’. Accessed 15 March 2010. Available at: http://www. brooklynmuseum.org/features/mut/development.php. Brunner, H. 1986. Die Geburt des Gottkönigs:. Studien zur Überlieferung eines altägyptischen Mythos. 2nd edn. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 10. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab James C. R. Gill Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ is an extremely diagnostic feature of the Ptolemaic pottery tradition in Egypt and yet comparatively little is known about its manufacture and distribution. This article examines the current state of research into Ptolemaic Black Ware and presents previously unpublished examples from the site of Mut elKharab, located within Dakhleh Oasis in Egypt’s Western Desert.1

excavations at the sites of Suwa, Rifeh and Kafr Ammar, while during the middle of the twentieth-century further examples of PBW were found at other sites at either end of the country; for example at Edfu (Michalowski et al. 1950) and at Tell el-Fara’in/Buto (Charlesworth 1969). The majority of studies dealing with PBW have appeared within the last two decades, which has coincided with a significant increase in publications that have reported finds of PBW at many sites throughout Egypt. This is probably due to a combination of two things; an increasing shift toward regional surveys, particularly in areas where sites are under threat, and the increasing availability of web-based resources, which allows for a more efficient dissemination of knowledge. A case that illustrates this well is that of the Egypt Exploration Society Delta Survey, which provides an on-line catalogue of Delta sites that is continually updated.4

INTRODUCTION In recent years an increasing number of Egyptian sites have produced examples of Ptolemaic Black Ware2 (hereafter PBW) and yet the nature of this ware is still largely not understood. While it may be obvious that this ware is the product of an attempt by Egyptian potters to replicate the black-polished wares of Greek origin, our knowledge concerning aspects such as the production and distribution of this ware remains underdeveloped. A few scholars have focused specifically on the issue of PBW although their studies are now several years old and other scholars who discuss PBW tend to do so in rather general terms. This is largely a reflection of the fact that at most sites finds of PBW are limited to small numbers of isolated sherds as well as the fact that it is often difficult to determine the origin of such examples. The sites of Buto and Athribis are important as they have yielded evidence for the presence of PBW production centres (see Table 1 for key references), which has begun to extend our knowledge of the overall PBW industry in Egypt.

Two sites have played a significant role in shaping our understanding of PBW production in Egypt. Excavations at Tell el-Fara’in/Buto (Charlesworth 1967; 1969; Ballet et al. 2006) and at Tell Atrib/Athribis (Myśliwiec and Poludnikiewicz 2003) have revealed evidence for the production of PBW, such as unfired vessels, kiln wasters and finished vessels associated with kiln structures. This evidence led Ballet and Vichy (1992, 112) to propose that PBW was perhaps produced only at a small number of Delta sites, which were influenced by the trends set in Alexandria. Since then, several sites in Upper Egypt have yielded quantities of PBW, such as Dendara (Marchand and Laisney 2000), Karnak (Grataloup 1991; JacquetGordon 1997) and Syene (Jaritz and Rodziewicz 1994), which may reflect the presence of one or more production centres in the region. Large quantities of PBW have also been found at Alexandria (Enklaar 1998a; 1998b; Harlaut 2002), but as yet there is no conclusive evidence for a production centre there.

The primary aim of this paper is to present a small collection of PBW from the site of Mut el-Kharab in Egypt’s Western Desert. I will also use this opportunity to reassess the state of research into PBW in Egypt, including a revision of the list originally compiled by Jacquet-Gordon (1997) of sites where PBW has been found. It is hoped that this study will thus provide a basis for future research into PBW.

Arguably the most important study until now is that of Jacquet-Gordon (1997) who was both the first to compile a list of published references to PBW and one of the few who really considers the implications for its presence on Egyptian sites. Jacquet-Gordon identifies eleven sites from which PBW has been previously reported, to which she adds Karnak North where an additional eighty-five examples had been identified.5 Most importantly JacquetGordon raises the issue of why these vessels were being produced, suggesting that Greek imports were too

PREVIOUS STUDIES3 Ptolemaic Black Ware has been recognised on Egyptian sites for at least a century. Petrie (1906; 1907; and Mackay 1915) identified a few examples from his

                                                            

1 This paper differs somewhat from that presented at the conference in 2009. The original paper examined Greek imitations within the Ptolemaic pottery assemblage from Mut el-Kharab whereas that presented here focuses specifically on the issue of Ptolemaic Black Ware. 2 A variety of terms are used in the published literature to describe this ware. For convenience I have chosen to use the term ‘Ptolemaic Black Ware’. See also note 6 below. 3 See Table 1 for specific references to PBW within the publications discussed in the following section.

                                                             4

For the web address see EES Delta Survey in the bibliography. Jacquet-Gordon (1997) identifies a total of twelve sites where PBW had been found, including Quseir on the Red Sea coast and Qasr Ibrim in Nubia. She had also identified an example from Mut el-Kharab although it is not included in her publication (see Hope 1981, 234, footnote 2). 5

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JAMES GILL may have been applied in order to create a more even surface for polishing. Some authors describe the slip applied to these vessels as black or dark grey (Herbert and Berlin 2003, 27; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290; Jaritz et al. 1996, 56, 164, 170), although it is more likely that red, yellow or cream slips were used and that they became black as a result of the reduction firing method. This idea is supported by the presence of an unfired vessel coated in a thin yellow slip within the firing-chamber of Kiln 9 at Tell el-Fara’in/Buto, in which PBW vessels were also found (Charlesworth 1969, 29-30).

expensive for many people, and that cheaper local imitations would have met the demands of both Greeks and Hellenised Egyptians who could not afford such imports. More recently, other scholars have published finds of PBW (Bailey 2004; Budka 2010; De Rodrigo 2003; Grataloup 2010; Spencer, N. 2008; Spencer, A.J. 2003; Jakubiak 2005), and while they demonstrate an increasing area of distribution for this ware, for the most part these studies add little to the issue of where PBW was produced. This is due largely to the difficulty in determining a provenance for this ware that is any more specific than ‘Egyptian’ or ‘Nile Valley’.

The majority of PBW vessels are polished or burnished, and the quality of the treatment varies as much as the colour. Some vessels are highly polished across the entire surface while others retain only a few burnished bands. This discrepancy may be partly due to issues of preservation, as the polish/burnish is likely to dull with use and time; however, it also seems to be due to the intention of the potter. Considering the fact that many PBW vessels are poorly formed and poorly fired, it appears that attention was not always paid to achieving a high quality finish, and that many vessels merely received a token burnishing.

CHARACTERISTICS OF PTOLEMAIC BLACK WARE A range of terms are used in the published literature to describe this characteristic black-ware of the Ptolemaic Period.6 This reflects both the differences in the interpretations of the authors as well as the slight differences in fabric and surface finish that can be seen in the vessels themselves. While regional variation may play a part in this, the vessels are similar enough for us to consider them as a single ware-group.

The poor quality of many PBW vessels contrasts with the high quality of the imports on which they are based (French 1992, 93). While the Egyptian imitations are recognised by their coarse black/grey fabric, the imported wares are characterised by an extremely fine paste, usually fired cream through pale orange and pale brown, with a highly polished, glossy black exterior surface. At many sites, small numbers of imported Greek black-ware sherds are found alongside PBW sherds (Daszewski et al. 2001, 79; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 295; Spencer, A.J. 2003, 50-51; also at Mut el-Kharab, see below), which may indicate that both local and imported products were being used by the same group of people.

Table 1 demonstrates the wide range of ways in which PBW is described in the published literature. Most of the differences relate to the terminology used; for instance glaze/gloss/polish/burnish are all used to describe what is basically the same characteristic, a shiny surface.7 Despite this variation it is possible to discern certain key features that are common to most of the descriptions. The main characteristics of PBW are:  Black- or grey-fired fabric.  Generally some form of polish or burnish (across all or part of the vessel).  Local Egyptian fabric (marl, silt or oasis clay).  Standard forms (particularly small bowls and plates).

It is not surprising that the forms made in PBW imitate those of the Hellenistic Greek tradition. The majority of examples are fine-wares with certain forms encountered much more frequently than others. By far the most common forms are small bowls and plates (see Table 1).8 The bowls have ring-bases and either incurved or flaring rims, while the plates have ring-bases and modelled rims that project inward or outward. These forms are regularly decorated with impressed palmettes and rouletting, again imitating their Greek counterparts. Less common forms are small jugs, flasks and unguentaria of various shapes and sizes.

The grey/black colour is achieved by firing the vessel in a reduction atmosphere, a process that was not always completely successful. A uniform black colour can only be achieved when there is no oxygen inside the kiln during the firing process, which is difficult to control, as evidenced by the many examples of vessels with mottled surfaces of black and orange or red (Charlesworth 1969, 23; French 1992, 92; 1997, 143). In many cases it is evident that these vessels were originally slipped; for bowls this was often limited to the interior and upper part of the exterior only (Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290). The slip

Generally, the date provided for PBW vessels is no more specific than ‘Ptolemaic’ (see Table 1). In some instances a more refined date is proposed, although this is often only a difference between ‘early’ and ‘late’; for example Charlesworth (1969, 29) suggests that the earlier vessels are usually smaller and finer, while vessels of later date are coarser.

                                                            

6 For example: ‘Memphis Black Ware’ (Spencer A. J. 2003, 50), ‘Black Silt Ware’ (French 1992, 92), ‘Terra Nigra’ (Herbert and Berlin 2003, 27-28). See Bailey (2004, 301, note 3) for a brief discussion of this. Bailey points out the erroneous nature of some of these terms and prefers ‘Egyptian Black Glaze Ware’. 7 In fact we should not use ‘glaze’ to describe this ware, as the shine was created by polishing or burnishing the vessel after firing. The Egyptian clays were not compatible with the high firing temperatures required to achieve the black-glaze that is characteristic of Greek vessels (Ballet and Vichy 1992, 110).

                                                            

8 At Karnak North these bowls and plates constitute 48% and 28% of the PBW assemblage respectively (Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 291-292).

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Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab Originally slipped, black/grey-fired unpolished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 58. Rim diameter 20 cm. (Figure 1b).

PBW VESSELS FROM MUT EL-KHARAB Mut el-Kharab, located within Dakhleh Oasis in Egypt’s Western Desert, has produced a considerable quantity of Ptolemaic Period pottery in the last decade.9 Amongst this material are a number of PBW sherds, several of which appear to be of oasis origin. Apart from a single piece of PBW, found on the surface of the site during the survey of the Dakhleh Oasis Project (reported by Hope 1981, 234; and again 1999, 230), none of the examples have been published. A total of thirteen examples of PBW have thus far been discovered at Mut el-Kharab and they belong to two distinct categories; those which appear to have been manufactured somewhere in the Nile Valley (four examples), and those which appear to be of local oasis origin (nine examples). The identification of the fabric is based on macroscopic examination with a hand-lens and is made more difficult by the fact that the sherds are fired using a reduction method, which can make it difficult to detect inclusions. One useful method for distinguishing between fabrics of Nile Valley and oasis origin is the presence of mica, which does not occur naturally in oasis clays. The PBW vessels presented here come from a range of contexts within trenches located in various parts of the site. Seven of these come from the south-east corner of the temenos (Trenches 22 and 35); three from the central part of the site in the vicinity of the temple (Trenches 5 and 15); one from the north-west corner of the temenos (Trench 23); and two from the surface of the site. Unfortunately, most of these vessels derive from disturbed contexts and therefore cannot be dated on the basis of associated material; however, two of the vessels from Trench 22 come from clear Ptolemaic contexts (Numbers 2 and 5), which based on the associated pottery appear to date to somewhere around the 3rd or 2nd century BCE.

3

Rim from a large thick-walled plate. Local iron-rich fabric (A2b), fine, with few visible inclusions. Black-fired and polished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 57 Rim diameter 30 cm. (Figure 1c; Plate 2: Page 159).

4

Rim from a small incurved bowl. Local iron-rich fabric (A1b), with some visible inclusions of chaff and sand. Black/grey-fired and unpolished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 15 context 28. Rim diameter 12 cm. (Figure 1d).

5

Small incurved bowl. Local iron-rich fabric (A1b), with some visible inclusions of chaff and sand. Black/grey-fired and unpolished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 50. Rim diameter 11 cm, base diameter 4.5 cm, height 4 cm. (Figure 1e).

6

Rim from a small incurved bowl. Local iron-rich fabric (A2b), fine, few visible inclusions. Black-fired and polished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 47. Rim diameter 16 cm. (Figure 1f; Plate 3: Page 159).

7

Rim from a small flaring bowl. Local iron-rich fabric (A2b), fine, few visible inclusions. Black-fired and polished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 5 context 14. Dimensions unknown.

8

Ring-base from a small bowl or plate. Local iron-rich fabric (A2b), fine, few visible inclusions. Black-fired and polished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 35 context 23. Base diameter 8 cm. (Figure 1g; Plate 4: Page 159).

9*

Ring-base from a bowl(?). Black-fired ware. *Original unavailable for examination; cannot determine whether this is a local ware. Mut el-Kharab, surface. Dimensions unknown. (Plate 5: Page 159).

The PBW sherds from Mut el-Kharab are described below: Vessels of Oasis Origin 1

2

Shallow plate with ring-base and modelled rim. Rouletting on interior surface. Local iron-rich fabric (A2b), fine, with few visible inclusions. Black-fired and polished. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 5. Rim diameter 22 cm, base diameter 11 cm, height 4.5 cm. (Figure 1a; Plates 1a and 1b: page 159). Rim from a shallow plate with a modelled rim. Local iron-rich fabric (A1b), with some visible inclusions of chaff and sand.

                                                            

9 The study of this Ptolemaic pottery forms part of a PhD currently being undertaken by the author.

17

and

JAMES GILL

Figure 1  Ptolemaic Black Ware vessels from Mut el‐Kharab. Vessels of oasis origin (a‐g) and those of Nile Valley origin  (h‐j) (scale 1:4) (drawings by J. Gill and B. Parr).    The PBW sherds from Mut el-Kharab largely resemble those found at other sites in Egypt. The fabric is fired black or grey with minimal visible inclusions and most of the vessels are polished. The forms are similar to those found at other sites, with small bowls and plates with modelled rims clearly most common. The plates (Figures 1a-c and 1h are) find parallels in both Upper and Lower Egypt, at Karnak North (Jacquet-Gordon 1997, fig. 3a-e) and at Tell el-Fara’in/Buto (Charlesworth 1969, fig. 3.8). The thick-walled plate (Number 3; Figure 1c) in particular is paralleled at the latter site, where it is more common in the later levels (Charlesworth 1969, 29). The small bowls are likewise paralleled at either end of the country, again at Karnak North (Jacquet-Gordon 1997, fig. 2) and at Tell el-Fara’in//Buto (Charlesworth 1969, figs. 3.6).10

Vessels of Nile Valley Origin 10

Rim sherd from shallow plate with thickened, modelled rim. Nile Silt; very fine with flecks of mica. Fired dark grey and highly polished (metallic sheen). Mut el-Kharab, Trench 35 context 46. Rim diameter 20 cm. (Figure 1h; Plate 6: Page 160).

11*

Sherd from a deep, straight-sided bowl. Black-fired and polished imported ware. Mut el-Kharab, surface. *Reported by Hope 1981, 234; 1999, 230. This sherd was originally identified by H. JacquetGordon (see Hope 1981, 234, footnote 2).

12

Body sherd from a closed globular vessel. Fine Nile silt. Dark brown core with black polished exterior. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 23 context 8. (Figure 1i; Plate 7: Page 160).

Greek Import

13

14

Small juglet, mould-made in two halves. Single handle and impressed decoration. Nile silt, medium-fine with flecks of mica and some large limestone inclusions. Grey-fired. Possibly polished (faint traces). Mut el-Kharab, Trench 15 south baulk. Rim diameter 2 cm, base diameter 2.5 cm, height 8 cm. (Figure 1j; Plate 8: Page 160).

Rim sherd from a small incurved bowl. Fine, dense brown/orange fabric. Black-polished exterior. Mut el-Kharab, Trench 22 context 29. Rim diameter 8 cm. (Figure 2; Plate 9: Page 160).

A few sherds from imported Greek black-polished ware vessels have also been found at Mut el-Kharab. These come from fine table-ware vessels such as small bowls with incurved or flaring rims and ring-bases. These

                                                            

10 There are many more parallels to these common forms within the published literature. See Table 1 for references.

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Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab considering, especially as future research reveals more information about PBW.

imports are easily distinguished from both the local and Nile Valley PBW imitations due to their extremely fine and dense fabrics, fired cream through pale orange and pale brown.

It is also interesting to note that so far PBW has not been found at any other Ptolemaic Period site within the oasis.12 This may simply reflect the fact that Mut elKharab has been subject to more intensive exploration than most other sites; however, it is worth considering that the presence of PBW at Mut el-Kharab is related to the fact that a major temple was located here, and that this was part of what appears to have been a major settlement at this time. Perhaps these vessels were seen as a prestige items and were thus more readily available (or more desirable) to people of certain status within the population; in this case, temple personnel. Before we can develop this idea further, more work needs to be undertaken in order to establish whether PBW is in fact restricted to Mut el-Kharab.

Figure 2  Rim sherd from a Greek imported vessel found  at Mut el‐Kharab (scale 1:4) (Drawing by B. Parr).  The import presented above (Number 14) is one of several such imports found at Mut el-Kharab and is presented here for comparative purposes. While the form is similar to other bowls of local manufacture, the fabric and surface finish are much finer.

DISCUSSION I have identified a total of forty-one sites from which PBW has been reported (Table 1 at back), which is significantly more than the twelve sites originally identified by Jacquet-Gordon (1997). If we consider the distribution of sites where PBW has been found (Map 1 at back) we can see that it is most frequently encountered at Delta sites. This may be partly a reflection of more intense archaeological investigation of this region. PBW is also found at several sites in Upper Egypt, particularly around Thebes, as well as at sites in the Fayum and in Middle Egypt. Importantly, examples have been found at sites outside of Egypt proper; on the Red Sea Coast, in the Western Desert and possibly in Nubia.11 The question is whether the finds from these external regions represent local production or imports from the Nile Valley. In the case of Mut el-Kharab it seems that we have both, which indicates that production of PBW was not limited to the sites of Tell el-Fara’in/Buto and Tell Atrib/Athribis.

CONCLUSION While the nature of the PBW industry in Egypt is still not fully understood, a survey of the published literature reveals a number of important features. It is clear that PBW had a relatively wide distribution throughout Egypt, in addition to the surrounding regions that were part of the Egyptian cultural sphere. Perhaps most important is the fact that many of the PBW sherds from Mut elKharab appear to be of local manufacture, which suggests that not only did a local industry for such products exist in the oasis, but that local demand also existed. It is hoped that this paper will encourage the publication of additional examples of PBW and that it will act as a useful starting point for future research into the production, distribution and use of Ptolemaic Black Ware in Egypt.

Jacquet-Gordon (1999, 295) suggests that PBW may have been produced by Egyptian potters as a more affordable alternative to imported Greek black-ware vessels. This is a plausible theory, particularly when we consider the comparatively low numbers of Greek imports found at Ptolemaic sites in Egypt, which suggests that the availability of such imports was limited. The fact that local imitations are consistently found in contexts alongside these imports, as well as the relatively poor quality of many PBW vessels, supports the idea that these were merely ‘cheap imitations’ produced to meet a demand for Greek-style pottery. The question is: who desired this type of pottery? Was it produced for the local Greek population or for Hellenised Egyptians? Was this pottery even seen as ‘Greek’? Considering that PBW was produced in Egypt for more than two centuries, we might argue that it eventually became part of the standard Egyptian pottery tradition and was simply seen as a fineware rather than a Greek-ware. These questions are beyond the scope of the current paper but are worth

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank Colin Hope for the invitation to work on the Ptolemaic Period pottery from Mut elKharab, on which the current study is based. I would also like to thank the anonymous referee for their comments on this paper.

                                                            

                                                            

11 French (1992, 93) observes that the black ware from Qasr Ibrim in Nubia appears to be different to that found in Egypt and is  not represented by the same range of forms.

12

19

More than seventy Ptolemaic sites have been identified by the author.

JAMES GILL

Map 1 Map of Egypt showing sites where Ptolemaic Black Ware has been found. The numbers relate to those listed in  Table 1 (created by J. Gill). 

   

20

Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab Table 1  List of Egyptian sites where Ptolemaic Black Ware has been found.  Site Name

Map

Description of Black Ware

Forms

References

Heracleion

1

Wares fired in reducing atmospheres.

Echinus and carinated bowls, goblets, lamps, plates and kantharoi. Some forms decorated with palmettes and rouletting.

Grataloup 2010, 155-156.

Alexandria

2

Local black-glaze pottery. Black-slipped ware. Grey Northern Delta silt fabric with dark polished surface. Black surface achieved through reduction. Unclear whether it is Alexandrian in origin. 240 BCE until mid 2nd century. Production centre?

Tableware. Mainly plates and bowls; plates with rolled rim, bowls with incurved and outurned rims. Kantharos.

Enklaar 1998a, 23, fig. 20; 1998b, 271; Harlaut 2002, figs. 8 and 10; Hayes and Harlaut 2002, 103-104, figs. 12-17.

Tell el-Ahmar

3

Burnished black ware.

Small carinated bowls.

EES Delta Survey (440).

Tell el-Ghuzz

4

Small amount of black-glazed ceramics.

Kom Umm el-Laban

5

Fine burnished black ware.

Bowls.

Kom Firin

6

Very fine silt, fired grey with brown/grey burnished exterior. Fine black-glazed types (local?).

Bowl with Tableware.

Naukratis

7

Type 2D: Mineral-tempered black ware. Type 4D: Chaff-tempered black ware.

Bowl, plate.

Coulson and Leonard 1981, 22, 24, figs. 9/26-27, 11/3; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 288.

Tell el-Fara’in (Buto)

8

Black polished ware, influenced by Attic and Mediterranean glazed wares. Grey/black fabric with black burnished surface. Production centre.

Majority are shallow plates and bowls, some with stamped decoration on interior. Plates with folded interior ledge, carinated bowls, hemispherical bowls, bottles and flagons.

Ballet 2004, 18-19; Ballet et al. 2006; Charlesworth 1967, 151, 154, figs. 5-13; 1969; JacquetGordon 1997, 289.

Tell el-Balamun

9

Significant amounts of Memphis Black Ware.

Plates with modelled rim, bowls with flared rim or incurved rim, small juglets and vases. Some stamped decoration.

Spencer, A. J. 1996, 68-73, pl. 45/19-28, pl. 51/4-6, 10, 21; 1999, 34, 37, 41, 60, pl. 76b/2; 2003, 50, pl. 34/1-13.

Tell er Rub’a (Mendes)

10

Fine black-fired fabric, generally with a burnished or matt finish. Black fabric with black burnished slip.

Unguentaria, lekythoi, juglets, ring bases, bowls with both incurved and outurned rims. Some decorated with stamped palmettes or vertical furrows.

Allen 1982, 17-18; De Rodrigo 2003, figs. 1-4; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 288.

Tell Timai

11

Very dark grey fabric with either matt finish or lustrous slip.

Large plate with rolled lip. Bowl with incurved rim and flat base. Fusiform unguentarium.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 288; Ochsenschlager 1967, 42-49, figs. 12, 16, 20 and 27.

Tell Abu Shieisa

12

Graeco-Roman pottery; black burnished ware.

Tell Umm el Lahm – south

13

Black fabric.

Bowl.

Chłodnicki 1988, 25.

Tanis

14

Fine black fabric, burnished.

Bowl with flared rim. Small juglets, unguentarium.

Brissaud 1987, nos. 71, 383, 384, 391; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 289.

Tell el-Dab‘a

15

Black lustrous ware.

Carinated bowl.

Chłodnicki 1988, 25.

Tell Fara’on (Imet)

16

Black burnished ware.

Carinated bowls, flat-rimmed bowl, shallow plate with rounded rim.

Mustafa 1988a, 15, fig. 4-7; 1988b, 144.

Tell el-Moufarig

17

Local black-fired fabric (Group 2); fine, medium and coarse. The finer fabric may be an import from the Delta.

Both convex and carinated bowls.

Ballet 1997, 47-50, figs. 2, 8; French 1997, 142-143.

EES Delta Survey (609). EES Delta Survey (608). incurved

rim.

Spencer, N. 2008, 82, fig. 37/c035; 2010: 5-6.

Chłodnicki 1988, 26; EES Delta Survey (337).

21

JAMES GILL Site Name

Map

Description of Black Ware

Forms

References

Tell Farama (Pelusium)

18

Local and imported black gloss fine wares. Black-fired ware burnished, polished or matt finish.

Dominant forms are small bowl with incurved rim and plate with stamped decoration. Goblets.

Jakubiak 2005, 67, fig. 7; Jaritz et al. 1996, 56-57, 157-159, nos. 1, 2, 13, 25, 28, 127, 129, 130, 143, 144.

Tell el-Herr

19

Black-fired fine alluvial clay. Fine grey fabric, black polished.

Plates and bowls, sometimes impressed with palmettes. Bottles.

French 1997, 142-143; Gratien 1997, 72, nos. 5-192 and 9-1; Louis and Gratien 1990, 78, 82, figs. 9.307, 9.355, 9.356, 9.358, 9.506, 9.514, 9.510.

Tell Atrib (Athribis)

20

Black-fired ware. Vessels fired in a reduction atmosphere to achieve black surface, and then polished to imitate Greek black glaze. Production centre.

Flasks with impressed rosettes on either side. ‘Fish plate’.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 289; Mysliwiec 1996, 55; Mysliwiec and Poludnikiewicz 2003, 139; Poludnikiewicz 1992, 96, fig. 11.

Suwa

21

Black saucer of Ptolemaic make.

Shallow dish with rolled rim.

Petrie 1906, 48, pl. XXXIX H/218.

Saqqara (Anubieion)

22

Black ware sherds.

Mit Rahina (Apis House)

23

Black burnished ware, typical of the Ptolemaic Period.

Bowl with external groove below rim.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 289; Jones and Jones 1987, 44, 46, fig. 9c.

Kafr Ammar

24

Black pottery.

Large krater, small dish.

Petrie and Mackay 1915, 38, pl. XXXVIII /3 and 13.

Philoteris

25

Egyptian Black Glaze Ware.

Flared bowls and lipped dishes.

Bailey 2004, 301, 303.

Tebtynis

26

Fine black polished ware. Imitations of black-polished imports through black slip and reduction firing.

Both convex and carinated bowls are common. Small jug.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 289; Marchand 1996, 186; 2002: 250, fig.15; Valtz 1994, 42-43.

Akoris

27

Black polished/burnished sherds.

Ring-bases.

Kawanishi and Tsujimura 1995, 174, 178, figs. 128.13, 130.24.

Rifeh

28

Burnished black ware.

Small jug, fluted.

Petrie Museum, UC19402; Petrie 1907, pl. XXII E/13.

Dendara

29

Local imitation of Greek ware. Black polished silt fabric.

Bowls often with stamped decoration (palmettes or roulettes).

Marchand and Laisney 2000, 270, fig. 91.

Qift (Coptos)

30

Terra nigra: dark grey fabric with dull grey-black slip, sometimes polished or burnished. An Egyptian version of Attic black-glaze ware.

Tableware: saucers and small bowls; both incurved and flared rim.

Herbert and Berlin 2003, 27-28, nos. H1.2, H1.5, H2.10, H2.12, H3.11.

Thebes West Bank

31

Ptolemaic black ware. Polished.

Small bowl with ring-base.

Budka 2010, 199, fig. 71.

Karnak North

32

Fine Nile silt fabric covered in black slip. Some pieces are highly polished.

Small bowls with ring-bases and incurved or flaring rims (48%); shallow plates with modelled rims (28%); jars, flasks and bottles.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290-295.

Karnak Temple

33

Group 1: Black slipped pottery. Fine grey/black fabric with black slip.

Shallow plate; bowl with incurved rim; carinated bowl.

Grataloup 1991, 22-23, nos. 1-4; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290.

Edfu

34

Brown fabric, black polish; Greek imitation.

Fragment of a cup.

Michalowski et al. 1950, 272, no. 807.

Elephantine

35

Nile C variant 1 black slipped burnished ware.

Carinated dish with modelled rim and ring-base.

Aston 1999, 350, pl. 120, no. 3118.

Syene

36

Diagnostic black fired Ptolemaic Nile clay table-wares are present but rare.

Ring-bases and incurved rims.

Jaritz and Rodziewicz 1994, 122123, nos. 7, 17, 23, 24, 100, 112.

Qasr Ibrim [Nubia]

37

RBB ware: burnished black ware, uncommon; Ptolemaic. Imported from Egypt ?

Only small footed bowls.

French 1992, 93.

22

bowls

with

Adams n.d., 13, 26-27; French 1992, 93; Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290.

Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab Site Name

Map

Description of Black Ware

Forms

References

Dekheil (el-Dab’a) [Mediterranean Coast]

38

Nile silt, black-gloss ware.

Shallow dish and bowl fragments.

Daszewski et al. 2001, 79, figs. 2.1, 2.2.

Mut el-Kharab [Dakhleh Oasis]

39

Black ware (local and imported).

Plates and bowls. Juglet.

Hope 1981, 234; 1999, 230; (and see above).

Ain Manawir [Kharga Oasis]

40

Grey fired fabric with black polished surface (local?).

Small gourd.

Marchand 1997, 46-47.

Quseir [Red Sea Coast]

41

Very dense, dark grey fabric with polished black surface.

Ring base (juglet?) and bowl with incurved rim.

Jacquet-Gordon 1997, 290; Whitcomb and Johnson 1979, 78, pl. 23/b, 23/i.

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Mustafa, I. A. 1988b. ‘A Preliminary Report on the Excavation of the E.A.O. at Tell Fara’on - ‘Imet’, Season 1985-1986’. In The Archaeology of the Nile Delta: Problems and Priorities, edited by van den Brink, E. C. M. Amsterdam: Netherlands Foundation for Archaeological Research in Egypt, 141-149.

Valtz, E. 1994. ‘Tebtynis (Umm el-Bregat), Fayoum’. Bulletin de Liaison du Groupe International d’Étude de la Céramique Égyptienne 18: 42-44. Whitcomb, D; Johnson, J. 1979. Quseir al-Qadim 1978: Preliminary Report. Cairo: American Research Center in Egypt.

Myśliwiec, K. 1996. ‘Tell Atrib: Excavations 1995’. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 8: 53-60. Myśliwiec, K; Poludnikiewicz, A. 2003. ‘A Center of Ceramic Production in Ptolemaic Athribis’. In Egyptian Pottery: Proceedings of the 1990 Pottery Symposium at the University of California, Berkeley, edited by Redmount, C. A; Keller, C. A. Berkeley: University of California, 133-152. Ochsenschlager, E. L. 1967. ‘The Excavations at Tell Timai’. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 6: 32-51. Petrie Museum = The Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology: The Petrie Collection Online Catalogue. Accessed September 2010. Available online at: http://petriecat.museums.ucl.ac.uk/. Petrie, W. M. F. 1906. Hyksos and Israelite Cities. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 12. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Quaritch. Petrie, W. M. F. 1907. Gizeh and Rifeh. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 13. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Quaritch. Petrie, W. M. F; Mackay, E. 1915. Heliopolis, Kafr Ammar and Shurafa. British School of. Archaeology in Egypt and Egypt Research Account 24. London: Quaritch. Poludnikiewicz, A. 1992. ‘Local Imitations of Greek Pottery found in Tell Atrib’. Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 3: 95-101. Spencer, A. J. 1996. Excavations at Tell el-Balamun 1991-1994. London: British Museum Press. Spencer, A. J. 1999. Excavations at Tell el-Balamun 1995-1998. London: British Museum Press. Spencer, A. J. 2003. Excavations at Tell el-Balamun 1999-2001. London: British Museum Press.

25

The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police Emmeline Healey   Images of the Egyptian military and police are particularly prominent in the rock tombs of officials at Amarna. The unique nature of these reliefs has been discussed by several authors who have focused on the style of art, political ideology and issues of identification.1 The aim of this paper is to examine what evidence for the military and police is contained within the reliefs in the hope of broadening the current knowledge of these aspects of the Amarna Period, which are more commonly studied through textual evidence such as the Amarna Letters. As this is a brief paper only a selection of the tomb reliefs depicting the military and police will be discussed, focussing on an introduction to the issues and conclusions that can be drawn from these unique scenes.2

1980, 173; Strudwick 1994, 329; Robins 1997, 149-65). They add the issue of how to interpret these new relief styles to the limitations of using any Egyptian relief as evidence. The elite nature of the intended audience and the sometimes subtle portrayal of ideologies relating to the afterlife, kingship and Egyptian supremacy are also considerations in determining the historicity of reliefs (Aldred 1980; Robins 1997). The question follows of whether the increased focus on the activities of the military and police seen in the Amarna rock tombs reflects real activities and the true significance of these people in Egypt.

Ten of the forty-five officials’ tombs at Amarna have reliefs containing military or police imagery on one or more walls of the main chamber (Davies 1908a, 9-11; Arp 2007, 39). An examination of the locations of the reliefs within the tombs reveals that the presence of the military and police is not connected to the layout or size of the tomb, or to the direction in which the tomb faces. The only apparent pattern is that the majority of reliefs are in the main chamber of the tomb, which in most cases is the only decorated chamber, and that what is shown on each wall is at times restricted by the available wall space. Despite there being no formal location for military or police imagery, they can be identified as occurring in a specific range of themed reliefs. The reliefs fall within five themes:

For the purposes of this study, military and police imagery is defined as the representations of soldiers, military officers, police officers and any other people affiliated with the military or police. Amongst the depictions of the military and police, individuals of varying ranks as well as foreign units and chariotry can be identified. The main indicators for identifying people belonging to the military and police are their clothing, weaponry, armour, military standards, and association with royal and non-royal chariots and horses.4 There are also several depictions of military installations in the reliefs. In addition, some sunshade- and fan-bearers depicted with military-style clothing and haircuts may be soldiers. Although Schulman (1962) did not find any official rank or title for sunshade- and fan-bearers amongst the military ranks and titles that he identified in his research, the role of these men appears to be one unspecific to military, civil or religious individuals, all of whom are depicted in the reliefs.

IDENTIFICATION OF MILITARY AND POLICE IMAGERY

1. Reward ceremony. 2. Royal chariot ride from the palace to the temple. 3. Tribute ceremony. 4. Duties of office. 5. Offering to the Aten.3

Standard-bearers are military officers who can also be easily identified by the standards they carry. It is sometimes possible to identify other types of military officers by their military costume and a distinctive baton that some carry, as well as by hieroglyphic captions that have survived in some cases. At times it can be difficult to distinguish between a police officer and a military officer due to the similarity in costume and weaponry. Similarities between the military and police also exist in their structure and the roles of each body. Schulman (1962, 40) has found titles dating to the Amarna Period such as “standard-bearer of the company of mg3w” and

The limited range of themes suggests that there were conventions for the decoration of private tombs, including the restriction to only depicting the Aten and no other deities (Aldred 1980, 173; Strudwick 1994, 329). Moreover, new themes and changes to how space is represented appear in the rock tomb reliefs as a result of the impact of Akhenaten’s religious reforms (Aldred

                                                            

1 For example, see Davies (1903-8), Gaballa (1976), Meyers (1981), O’Connor (1987/8), Arp (2007) and Darnell and Manassa (2007). 2 The reliefs were originally published by Davies in The Rock Tombs of El-Amarna (1903-1908) and are reproduced here with kind permission from the Egypt Exploration Society. 3 Reliefs of offering scenes show a minimal presence of the military and police as a small escort. There is not scope within this paper to include these reliefs in the discussion; however, they can be found in each tomb described by Davies (1903-8).

                                                            

4 During the Amarna Period, horses ridden by Akhenaten, Nefertiti and their daughters are depicted with plumed headdresses (Rommelaere 1991, 112-6). Non-royal chariotry may be privately owned, or be part of the chariotry division of the military (Schulman 1962, 6).

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EMMELINE HEALEY Meryre II’s tomb; Murnane 1995, 165). Akhenaten and Nefertiti can be seen at the Window of Appearances in the city of Akhetaten,6 and before them Meryre II stands receiving the Gold of Honour necklace. Below the Window is a motif expressing the king’s supremacy over foreign states. It consists of Asiatic captives on the left, bound beside a representation of the plant of the North, and Nubian captives besides the plant of the South on the right. Between them is the sm3 “sign of union” (Davies 1905a, 36). This motif is not present in every reward scene and occurs here in Meryre II’s tomb with individualised detailing of the captives, although they are only partly preserved. By allowing the depiction of the motif Akhenaten was overtly continuing the war-like ideology of Egypt’s dominance over other countries, much like Amenhotep III and other Eighteenth Dynasty kings who are also depicted with captives underneath their thrones (Berman 1998, 19).

“commander of mg3w”, suggesting that the police force, or Medjay, formed companies in an organised paramilitary force at this time. During the New Kingdom they are known to uphold justice, issue punishments, patrol desert regions, and guard mines, quarrying expeditions, temples, palaces and cemeteries (Yoyotte 1952, 150-1; Andreu 1982, 1069-70; Shaw and Nicholson 2002, 251; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 67). A detailed examination of the rock tomb reliefs focused on what activities individuals from the military and police force are shown engaged in and whether the scenes in which they feature are standard reproductions or display some individuality from tomb to tomb. It was found that although the majority of the wall reliefs fall within one of the five themes outlined above, there is some variation between them that points to an element of realism. A selection of reliefs is described below to demonstrate this finding and discuss what roles the military and police are depicted in.

Moreover, this ideology appears in several other tomb reliefs and in the city of Amarna itself, where paintings in the Great Palace and the King’s House depict bound and kneeling foreigners. In the Great Palace, at least three painted pavements existed in the Main Hall, Room E and Room F respectively. The surviving fragments depict figures of Asiatics, Nubians and bows on the pathways where they would literally be trampled on (Weatherhead 2007, 18). The bows are represented in groups of three, which brings to mind the Egyptian motif of the nine bows, representing Egypt’s enemies. Similarly, the walls of the dais in the Throne Room of the King’s House were painted with a frieze of kneeling Asiatics and Nubians (Weatherhead 2007, 78-9). Thus, it is apparent that motifs of captive and “supplicating foreigners” (Weatherhead 2007, 80) found in public areas of the Amarna palaces are reflected in the private tombs of high officials. In this respect, Akhenaten is continuing his father Amenhotep III’s policy of overtly displaying militaristic iconography in private and public spaces. Foreigners also decorate the surfaces of daises in Rooms F and E of the palace at Malkata, and decorate the sides of the dais on which Amenhotep III and his family are shown seated in the tomb of Kheruef at Thebes (Weatherhead 2007, 81-2).7 The evidence from the Amarna rock tombs and palaces indicates how fundamental the concepts of foreign domination and military prowess were to the public image that Akhenaten wished to portray of himself and the Egyptian state.

REWARD SCENES FROM THE TOMBS OF MERYRE II, AY AND MAHU

Figure 1 Reward scene from the tomb of Meryre II (after  Davies 1905a, Plate XXXIII).

Returning now to Meryre II’s reward scene, more foreigners are depicted in the top two registers to the right of the Window of Appearances. Several groups of people are aligned in rows; the lower group is of eight foreigners from Nubia, Libya and the Near East, led by two Egyptian officials. Davies’ (1905a, 37) suggestion that these foreigners are delegates or ambassadors is likely given that they are in elaborate dress and walk freely. The preservation of the row of men above them is not good,

A common theme of the Amarna rock tomb reliefs is a ceremony in which the tomb owner is rewarded by Akhenaten with the so-called Gold of Honour necklace.5 The reward scene in Figure 1 is one of two from the tomb of Meryre II, whose main titles include “the steward, the treasurer, the overseer of the royal quarters of [the King’s Chief Wife]” (from the west thickness of the outer wall of

                                                            

                                                            

6

On the location of the Window of Appearances see Kemp (1976). See Tytus (1903, 11, 17-18) for a report on the excavation of Malkata and Wilkinson (1980, Plate 1, 48-9) for Kheruef’s reliefs.

5

  For a detailed study on reward scenes and the Gold of Honour see Binder (2008). 

7

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The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police but three or four of the men appear to have their hands bound, indicating that they may be captives. The presence of the foreign delegates and captives before the king adds weight to the concept of Egyptian supremacy over foreign lands that is conveyed by the bound captives beneath the royal couple’s feet.

different weaponry according to their ethnic origins (Davies 1908b, 22). Davies (1908a, 22) identifies the four foreign soldiers as mercenaries, but they are likely to be part of the permanent Egyptian military, which is known to have included units of foreigners (Schulman 1962, 124; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 67).

Below the foreigners are two registers of royal horse and chariot teams with charioteers and a groom (Davies 1905a, 37), and a group of sunshade-bearers. The latter are unlikely to be from the military as they have shaved heads, as opposed to the cropped hairstyle worn by the charioteers and grooms that is customary amongst soldiers and police. A third chariot in the second register from the bottom waits for Meryre II, who is being greeted by a group of his servants with arms raised (Davies 1905a, 37). In the bottom register the same chariot is depicted carrying Meryre II to his home, accompanied by men, women and children of his household. The house itself is rendered in some detail, contributing further to the individuality of the reward scene. Finally, a guard can be seen rendered on a small scale, leaning against a doorway above the depiction of Meryre II’s house on the left. He wears a short kilt and has a cropped hair style like an Egyptian soldier. Overall, the tone of Meryre II’s reward scene is quite formal, but includes personalised elements that indicate the adaptation of a set theme for the individual. Similarly, a reward scene from the tomb of Ay, “fanbearer…the commander of all horses of his Person, the true king’s scribe” (from the left door jamb of the outer door of Ay’s tomb; Murnane 1995, 108), contains many of the same elements, but is displayed with a different use of space and individualised details. In Figure 2 the palace is depicted on the left above the door in the west wall of the main chamber. Guards are depicted standing or sitting at doorways in the palace and most are armed with batons (Davies 1908b, 20-1).

Figure 2 Reward scene from the tomb of Ay – the palace  (after Davies 1908b, Plate XXVIII). 

The Window of Appearances and palace courtyard are to the right of the palace in Figure 3, where two royal chariot and horse teams accompanied by grooms and charioteers wait in the upper register. Beneath them on the right is a group of foreign delegates and in the third register a guard carrying what may be a whip stands directly in front of the courtyard gates.8 Four soldiers with feathers in their hair,9 led by a group of four officials and a group of four policemen with batons, are arranged to the left of the guard (Davies 1908b, 22). The triangleshaped sporrans typically worn by both soldiers and police can be seen clearly on these men. In the register below them is a group of four military standard-bearers wearing similar clothing and a group of Asiatic, Libyan, Nubian and Egyptian soldiers, each dressed and carrying

Outside the palace gates in Figure 4 is a unique element found only in the reward scene of Ay and Tutu (Davies 1906b, Plates XX, XXVIII). A row of standard platforms are depicted in the top register, displaying two types of standards and attended by a sentry at each platform. Boys are speaking to the sentries, informing them of what is happening inside the courtyard (Davies 1908b, 23). An excerpt from the inscription reads: “For whom is this shouting being made, my child?” with the reply: “The shouting is made for Ay, the God’s Father, and Tiyi: they are become people of gold!” (Murnane 1995, 116). The relief and inscription make obvious why Darnell and Manassa (2007, 194) have suggested that the platforms may have functioned as posts to send and receive messages and “visual signals”.

                                                            

8 This identification is based on a comparison with a similar weapon held by the guard in Parannefer’s reward scene, identified by Davies (1908b, 4, Plate IV) as a whip. 9 Wearing feathers in this fashion is a Nubian military style (Darnell and Manassa 2007, 127), which is possibly shown here to identify the men as Nubian, or given the Egyptian facial features and costumes of the men, has been adopted by these Egyptian soldiers.

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Figure 3 Reward scene from the tomb of Ay – the Window of Appearances and palace courtyard (after Davies 1908b,  Plate XXIX). 

   

Figure 4 Reward scene from the tomb of Ay – outside the palace courtyard (after Davies 1908b, Plate XXX). 

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The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police

  Figure 5 Reward scene from the tomb of Mahu (after Davies 1906, Plate XVII). but the figures of interest are Mahu, who holds his arms above his head in the bottom register, and the official standing before him carrying a standard. Although it is partly damaged, a motif on the standard can be seen depicting the king smiting an enemy (Davies 1906, 15). This motif belongs to a recurrent theme of the warrior king’s triumph over Egypt’s enemies, seen also in the bound captives beneath the Window of Appearances in Meryre II’s tomb (Figure 1). The great difference between this section of Mahu’s reward scene and the other reward scenes discussed above indicates the flexibility within the Amarna conventions for tomb reliefs, encompassing individual details relating to the tomb owners’ roles in life, their possessions and their households.

Below the standard platforms three chariots and charioteers wait, servants carry away Ay’s rewards, and Ay himself is depicted next to the palace gates showing a pair of gloves that he has been rewarded with to his household (Davies 1908b, 22). The standard platforms and details of Ay’s rewards create a different, more celebratory atmosphere than that of Meryre II’s reward scene. Finally, amongst those waiting outside the palace courtyard for Ay are three registers of men with their arms raised, the top two including standard-bearers representing two military-style regiments (Davies 1908b, 23). All these figures are dressed as soldiers, but are displayed as part of Ay’s household, indicating that private guards may have existed in imitation of military units for those nobles with the means to support a large household. The presence of these soldiers might be accounted for by Ay’s position as the overseer of horses, a role tied to the chariotry branch of the military (Schulman 1962, 77), and from which Ay later rose to the position of army general and eventually king of Egypt.

THE ROYAL CHARIOT RIDE FROM THE PALACE TO THE TEMPLE IN THE TOMBS OF MERYRE I AND PANEHESY The depiction of Akhenaten and Nefertiti on a ceremonial chariot ride from the North Riverside Palace at Akhetaten along the north-south Royal Road to the Great Aten Temple appears frequently in the Amarna rock tombs. The chariot ride is similar to the trip made by Amenhotep III between harbours at dawn and dusk, and mimics the rising and setting of the sun (Aldred 1988, 131; O’Connor 1995, 290-1; Kemp 2006, 284; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 38-9). This daily ritual may have been seen as a replacement for other traditional Egyptian

A brief discussion of a third scene relating to a reward ceremony from the tomb of Mahu, “Chief of the Medjay of Akhet-Aten” (from the left jamb of the outer door of Mahu’s tomb; Murnane 1995, 148), is also pertinent here. A section of relief depicts events after a reward ceremony on the upper half of the west wall (Davies 1906, 15), prominently displaying warrior-king ideology. A large number of police feature in this scene shown in Figure 5,

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Figure 6 Daily chariot ride from the tomb of Meryre I – the royal party (after Davies 1903, Plate X). festivals associated with deities not recognised during Akhenaten’s reign. A military escort historically played a part in this and other religious festivals prior to and after the Amarna Period (Darnell and Manassa 2007, 193).

 

The chariot ride from the tomb of Panehesy, the “first servant of Aten in the House of Aten” (from the west thickness of the outer wall of Panehesy’s tomb; Murnane 1995, 171), is a good point of comparison to demonstrate the differences in style between reliefs in the royal chariot ride theme. Panehesy’s relief can be seen in Figure 8. This and Meryre I’s scene depict an occurrence of the same daily event and a similar contingent of military and police escorts, but use different arrangements of space. As the military and police are a standard presence in the daily chariot ride they should be considered as part of a religious ritual as well as being a protective force (Kemp 2006, 284; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 39). The detail in which the escorts in these two examples are rendered allows the identification of standard-bearers, foreign military units represented by Asiatics, Libyans and Nubians, and regular soldiers and police officers. The element of realism contained within the individually tailored scenes indicates that the military and police depicted do represent real people, and that the carefully detailed buildings are also specific locations within Akhetaten. It does not necessarily follow that a real historical event is being portrayed accurately; however, with some caution one can identify escorting and guarding the royal family as functions that the police and military were responsible for carrying out.

The escort is depicted prominently in the context of the Amarna rock tombs. One well-preserved example is found in the tomb of Meryre I, the “Greatest of Seers”, or high priest, of the Aten (from the north doorway of the main chamber of Meryre I’s tomb; Murnane 1995, 155). In Figure 6 the royal party is depicted on a large scale, accompanied by a military vanguard arranged in three registers. The escort includes officers at the rear of the lower two registers, standard-bearers and armed soldiers from Egypt, Libya, the Near East and Nubia. On the same ground line as the royal chariot are two officers or policemen with batons and two men who may be grooms or foot soldiers arranged beneath the king’s horses.10 Above and below the princesses’ chariots that follow behind the queen are groups of five and seven policemen respectively. A further group of armed men are arranged in the bottom register on the right, possibly representing Meryre I’s personal retinue (Davies 1903, 28). The retinue includes standard-bearers and Egyptian and foreign soldiers. Behind them follow more chariots bearing officials, sunshade-bearers and policemen. The whole party is arriving before the temple, which is rendered in detail in Figure 7. Amongst the people who welcome the king and queen to the temple are groups of temple attendants, officials, women and children, sunshade-bearers and kneeling men with shaved heads and batons who may be temple guards (Davies 1903, 289).

THE TRIBUTE SCENE OF MERYRE II A theme that is unique to two tombs at Amarna is that of the tribute ceremony. The two reliefs occur on the west wall of Huya’s tomb and the east wall of Meryre II’s tomb. In these scenes foreign delegates are shown bringing tribute to Akhenaten in the Hall of Foreign Tribute, which is depicted as a pavilion outdoors (Pendlebury 1979, 209).11 Although the two tribute

                                                             10

Davies (1903, 26) suggests that they are grooms, but another possibility is that these men are runners, or pehreru, who were foot soldiers known to accompany chariotry to help protect the horses from the enemy and aid the driver when necessary (Schulman 1962, 62; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 64).

                                                             11

Because it appears to be a “single and independent building”, Pendlebury (1979, 209) believes it is unlikely to have been in the Central City of Akhetaten. It is possible that the ceremony took place at

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The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police scenes have differences between them, they appear to depict the same event. Figure 9 shows the relief from the tomb of Meryre II.12 An inscription, which is very similar to that in Huya’s tomb, describes the relief as showing a tribute ceremony from year twelve of Akhenaten’s reign (Davies 1905a, 38):

attendants and an escort of standard- and fan-bearers whose faces are too damaged to identify as military bearers (Davies 1905a, 39; Gaballa 1976, 80).

Regnal year 12, second month [of the Seed season, day] 8…. Appearance [of his Person] on the throne of his (divine and royal) father, the Aten, who lives on Maat, while the chieftains of every foreign land are presenting [products to the king and] begging peace from him, so that [they might be] allowed to breathe the breath [of] life (Murnane 1995, 162). Meryre II’s tribute scene is relatively crowded and depicts the royal family having arrived at the pavilion, their palanquins shown stationary in the register below. A military escort is depicted beneath the palanquins at the right end of the register, including two chariot-and-horse teams with charioteers and a group of standard-bearers who are only partly preserved. In the register below, ten soldiers carry a range of weapons and standards and include at least one Asiatic and one Nubian. Occupying the centre of this register and the register below that are two rows of soldiers wearing feathers and carrying curved staffs, and officials carrying crooks (Davies 1905a, 42), brought up by two police officers with batons.13

 

Figure 7 Daily chariot ride from the tomb of Meryre I –  the temple (after Davies 1903, Plate XA). 

Moving across to the top six registers on the right-hand edge of the relief one sees the tribute from Nubia, including shields, bows, arrows and Nubian captives.14 The Nubian captives wear feathers which mark them as soldiers, possibly from the war with Nubia that occurred in year twelve of Akhenaten’s reign (Gaballa 1976, 80; Schulman 1982, 311; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 127). Furthermore, the presentation of weaponry to the king indicates that such items were of high value, and by association that the ideology of warfare was of some significance. In the fifth register, combat games are taking place, including wrestling, stick-fighting and boxing. The combatants’ presence at the festival contributes to the ritual overtone of the tribute ceremony (Decker 1992, 78; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 209). This tone is also evoked by the lines of foreign tribute bearers and captives, led primarily by Egyptian officers, emphasising the connection between the military and foreign relations. Finally, in the sixth register to the right of the pavilion, one sees a group led by Meryre II with

  On the left side of the pavilion is the tribute from the Near East. The top six registers depict Syrians who also bring bound Syrians and weapons as tribute (Davies 1905a, 40). Davies (1905a, 40-1) suggests that those in the fifth and sixth registers from the top represent another specific Asiatic ethnic group, being dressed in different clothes. Beneath the Asiatics are seven men from Punt with offerings of incense, precious metals and calves, and below them are Libyans bearing ostrich eggs. The lowest register is occupied by Keftiu from Crete (Darnell 1991, 124-6).15 It is possible that the bringing of tribute from these countries may be historically accurate, but it does not follow that Syria, Libya, Hatti and so on, were vassals of Egypt, or even allied to Egypt (Davies 1905a, 11, 43; Gaballa 1976, 80).16 However, the Amarna Letters are evidence that gift-giving was an important stage in forming political alliances, in addition to being a form of tax paid by vassal states (Panagiotopoulos 2001, 273). In

                                                                                                

15 According to Davies (1905a, 42) these men may be Hittites, or alternatively, Keftiu from Crete who may have traded with the Hittites for the vessels shown here (Davies 1905a, 42; Gaballa 1976, 80). In a comprehensive study of the depiction of Hittites in the Amarna Period, Darnell (1991, 124-6) has identified the figures as Keftiu, probably of a hybrid Syro-Keftiu ethnicity. See Darnell (1991) and Wachsmann (1987) for further discussions on the identification of Hittites, Keftiu and Syrians. 16 Panagiotopoulos (2001, 270-1) has examined similar scenes from Theban tombs of the Eighteenth Dynasty and argues that there is no suggestion in the scenes that all the nations represented are considered by Egypt to be vassals. Those scenes with accompanying texts contain no reference to Egypt’s subjugation of the lands; they only refer to the bringing of tribute.

                                                            

a temporary structure elsewhere (Pendlebury 1979, 210). On the other hand, Frankfurt (1927, 213-4) found what he thought to be the Hall of Foreign Tribute cut into the north wall of the temenos of the Great Aten Temple. 12 For Huya’s tribute scene see Davies (1905b, Plates XIII, XIV, XV). 13 The two rows of soldiers and officials are slightly damaged, but they appear to be mostly Egyptian. Alternatively, Davies (1905a, 42) suggests that those carrying crooks are Asiatic soldiers. 14 An interesting feature of both Meryre II’s and Huya’s tribute scenes, which Gaballa (1976, 80-1) notes in the case of Huya’s tomb, is that the Nubians are depicted on the south end of the wall and the Asiatics and other ethnicities on the north end, corresponding to their geographical location in relation to Egypt.

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EMMELINE HEALEY (1987/8, 42) interpretations of the door-like structures. They suggest that the fortified building is the North Riverside Palace from which the royal party has come.17 Kemp (1976, 97) argues that the door-like structures represent buildings in the Central City that are passed whilst travelling along the Royal Road. O’Connor (1987/8, 42-9) also suggests that the lines beneath the top row of structures are roads and that the party is actually traveling from one Amarna Boundary Stela, represented by the stela built onto the east wall (see Figure 12), past the other stelae represented by the door-like structures.18 There is evidence from Akhenaten’s Later Proclamation of year six that he believed it possible that someone might try and destroy one or more of the stelae, and so O’Connor (1987/8, 48-9) suggests that police may have been stationed next to the stelae as guards.

this relief the viewer’s attention is drawn to the activity of the king, who is shown as supreme, being brought gifts from all corners of the world without reciprocating in the conventional way between powers of equal status, as the Amarna Letters indicate was normally the case (Gaballa 1976, 78; Panagiotopoulos 2001, 274). The crowding of the activity around the pavilion and the rows of soldiers, captives and weaponry does create a strong impression of imperialism and military might (Darnell and Manassa 2007, 126). Of equal importance to the tomb owner is the way in which the scene provides a means for him to emphasise his status through his proximity to the king (Hartwig 2004, 75-6). Based on Panagiotopoulos’s (2001, 269) study of the Theban tombs with similar tribute scenes to Meryre II’s, it seems that such scenes are not purely propagandistic because “their main purpose was…the self-representation of the tomb owner”.

However, the stela shown on Mahu’s east wall differs from the majority of the Boundary Stelae in one essential aspect. The eleven of the fifteen extant Boundary Stelae that are from years six and eight of Akhenaten’s reign and inscribed with the Later Proclamation, are flanked by statues of Akhenaten, Nefertiti and two princesses (Davies 1908a, 23; Murnane and Van Siclen III 1992, 1). One of the best preserved examples is Stela N, seen in Figure 13 as it was in the early 1900s. When compared to Mahu’s stela in Figure 12, the latter is clearly lacking the statues which form part of the monumental Boundary Stelae. O’Connor (1987/6, 43) also identifies the inscription of The Shorter Hymn to the Aten on Mahu’s stela as supporting the interpretation of the stela and door-like structures on Mahu’s tomb walls as representations of the Boundary Stelae, some of which are also inscribed with the same hymn. While this is true, The Shorter Hymn to the Aten is not exclusive to the stela depicted on Mahu’s east wall. It is also found in other contexts on walls in Mahu’s and other officials’ tombs, for example on the north thickness of Mahu’s tomb entrance and the east thickness of Meryre I’s tomb entrance (Davies 1903, Plate XXXVII; 1906, Plate XXIX). In light of this, the possibility of the door-like structures depicted in Mahu’s tomb being Boundary Stelae seems small.

THE OFFICIAL DUTIES OF THE CHIEF OF POLICE, MAHU A series of reliefs across the north, east and south walls of the chief of police’s tomb display police in various activities relating to their duties. On the east side of the north wall and extending onto the east wall are two series of reliefs that have been much debated. For the most part it is not possible to definitively identify every element of the scenes, nor is it necessary in order to gain an idea of what the police in these scenes are depicted doing. The scene in Figure 10 represents the earlier event in the series of activities shown on Mahu’s north and east walls (Kemp 1976, 97) and is the focus of this discussion. The royal family are depicted in a chariot being farewelled by the deputy mayor, vizier and Mahu (Davies 1906, 16). Mahu is shown four times in the scene: 1) standing behind the vizier in the top right of the scene; 2) below the vizier with several policemen; 3) in front of the vizier, kneeling behind the royal chariot; and 4) in front of the chariot with seven of his policemen, greeting the king and queen as they reach their destination. Running in front of the chariot on another ground line are seven more policemen. The components of this scene that have been the subject of some debate are the door-like structures that are arranged along the top and bottom of the relief, each with a policeman standing beside them. The top row also has two vertical lines resembling poles beneath each structure, and a dotted line runs behind the structures in the lower row.

On the other hand, the structures are almost identical to depictions of doors elsewhere in the Amarna tombs, for example at the palace in Figure 1 from Meryre II’s tomb. A similar door-like structure is also seen in two reliefs from Luxor. On the south-west interior of the court of Ramesses II at Luxor, a dedication inscription is accompanied by a relief of the Luxor Temple itself, depicting a door-shaped structure flanked by colossi and obelisks (Capart 1926, 41-2, Figure 23).

Davies’ (1906, 16) interpretation is that both rows of door-like buildings are sentry posts manned by police, and that the dotted line represents a network of posts and rails connecting the sentries. Similarly, Darnell and Manassa (2007, 194-5) have interpreted them as signaling posts and the dotted line as representing a road. The identification of the fortified structure on the adjacent east wall, featured in the top register of Figure 11, is brought to bear upon Kemp’s (1976, 97) and O’Connor’s

                                                            

17 There is evidence on the ground that the North Riverside Palace had fort-like walls; see Kemp and Garfi (1993, 39-42). 18 The stela built into the tomb wall is in the place where a door would normally be in the Amarna tombs (Davies 1906, 12-3). See Murnane and Van Siclen III (1992) for details on the Boundary Stelae and O’Connor (1987/8) for more on his theory.

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The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police

  Figure 8 Daily chariot ride from the tomb of Panehesy (after Davies 1905a, Plate XIII). 

   

  Figure 9 Tribute scene from the tomb of Meryre II (after Davies 1905a, Plate XXXVII).

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EMMELINE HEALEY

  Figure 10 Royal chariot ride from the tomb of Mahu (after Davies 1906, Plates XXI and XXII). A second, very similar relief is found on the south face of the east pylon of the Luxor Temple, accompanying another dedication inscription from year three of Ramesses II’s reign19 (Abd el-Razik 1967, 69; Redford 1971, 113; Brand 1997, 110). They give rise to another possible identification of the structures in Mahu’s relief as doorways to temples in the city of Akhetaten. Furthermore, the guards shown stationed outside palace and temple doorways in other Amarna tomb reliefs compare similarly to the police standing beside the structures in Mahu’s relief.20 Yet another feasible explanation is that the structures in Mahu’s relief represent the doors of small sentry posts, much like police sentry boxes that can be seen in modern day Egypt, elevated on columns, on the tops of walls, or on ground level.

and is addressed by three of his men. Mahu’s chariot and charioteer wait nearby and six armed policemen are shown running on the right-hand side of the register (Davies 1906, 17). In the register below on the left are four policemen behind Mahu in his chariot. Mahu is then shown again to the right with two of his policemen and three bound foreigners (Davies 1906, 18; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 195). He is speaking to the vizier and “The great officials of the pharaoh, l.p.h., and the leaders of the army who stand in the presence of his Person” (Murnane 1995, 149-50). The inscription above Mahu reads: “The Chief of the Medjay of Akhet-Aten, Mahu, he says: “Let those officials hear the people who would join those of the desert hills.”” In response, “The vizier, he says: “As the Aten endures, so may the ruler endure!”” (Murnane 1995, 149).21

Each of the above theories has merit and is difficult to prove. Given the similarity of the structures to doors and comparable structures shown elsewhere in the tombs and Luxor, their identification as entrances to buildings or sentry posts is the least problematic. Furthermore, Darnell and Manassa’s (2007, 194-5) identification of the dotted line behind the lower row of structures as a road seems likely as the dots could be seen to represent the larger rocks that were moved aside in order to create the ancient roads that are still visible around Amarna today.

Davies’ (1906, 17-8) original interpretation of the scene is that Mahu is standing at a police guardhouse and is being informed of escaped criminals. He then rides out with his police to apprehend them and present them to the vizier, generals and other officials. Another similar interpretation is that the scene shows patrol police collecting Mahu for an inspection of Amarna’s boundaries at either dusk or dawn when it would have been cold and warranted a fire (O’Connor 1987/8, 46). The lower part of the relief where Mahu is shown in his chariot may represent the group on their patrol and the report to Mahu’s superiors at the end of the day at the King’s House, which was the administrative centre within the Central City. O’Connor (1987/8, 46-7) suggests that this particular event records one patrol during which three desert men were captured.

A second scene from Mahu’s tomb which also shows the police engaged in their duties is on the lower part of the south wall, east of the doorway to the main chamber (see Davies 1906 Plates XXVI, XXVI). In the top register of the left-hand section of the relief a building with police inside it is depicted, possibly representing the police barracks. Outside, a large figure of Mahu stands by a fire

                                                             19

See Capart (1926, Figure 23), Abd el-Razik (1967, Plate 27a) and Brand (1997, Figure 8) for the reliefs. 20 For example, see depictions of palace doorways in Figures 1, 2 and 8 of this article, and temple doorways in Davies (1903, Plate XXV; 1905a, Plate XVIII).

                                                            

21 See Darnell and Manassa (2007, 195) for a variation on this translation.

36

The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police As a whole, these two examples from Mahu’s tomb reveal much about the potential for guard patrols and the role of the police at the city of Akhetaten. Regardless of whether the structures in Figure 10 are interpreted as sentry posts, houses or boundary stelae, the police are depicted in this scene and in Figure 4 acting as sentries, keeping the peace, and possibly as patrols. This reinforces what is already known from texts about the police force’s duties in the New Kingdom (Yoyotte 1952, 150-1; Andreu 1982, 1069-70; Shaw and Nicholson 2002, 251; Darnell and Manassa 2007, 67) and suggests that their duties were similar during the Amarna Period, at least in regards to the city of Akhetaten. Moreover, the reliefs emphasise order within the city (Davies 1906, 16) and are evidence for the existence of a defense system at Akhetaten.22 The existence of a guard and patrol network is further supported by the presence of ancient roads around Akhetaten.23

depicted. While the reliefs should not be taken as historical fact, they can give archaeologists an indication of the types of roles held by the Amarna military and police.

  Figure 12 Wall stela from the tomb of Mahu (after Davies  1906, Plate XXIII).  In the reliefs the military and police are shown as royal escorts in ceremonies involving the royal family, and the police sometimes accompany foreign delegates on these occasions. In turn, the delegates are linked to the military, which was a continuing presence in Egyptian vassal states throughout the Amarna Period, as is known from the Amarna Letters (Galán 1994, 91-4; Giles 1997, 1515; Weinstein et al. 1998, 226-7; Morris 2005, 252). Police or soldier guards are also depicted stationed at palace and temple doors and gateways, at sentry platforms, and possibly patrolling the roads surrounding Akhetaten. This substantiates what is known of the police from texts, which indicate that during the New Kingdom the police acted as guards, protecting mining expeditions, patrolling the desert borders, collecting taxes and supervising workmen24 (Yoyotte 1952, 150-1; Andreu 1982, 1069-70).

Figure 11 Fortified building from the tomb of Mahu  (after Davies 1906, Plate XXXI).

CONCLUSIONS From the analysis of the above reliefs one can gain an idea of the historical information that can be drawn from the reliefs about the nature of the Amarna military and police. The individuality within the selection of reliefs, relating to the tomb owners’ experiences and official duties in life, and the detailed depiction of real locations indicates that there is some degree of truth in what is

Another common element to the reliefs is the presence of chariots, horses, charioteers and grooms. The chariots and horses for officials may have belonged to private stables while those for the royal family belonged to the royal stables. It is not possible to know without further evidence if the royal chariots were sourced from the chariotry division of the military; however, such an arrangement would be practical and stables at the military barracks have been uncovered within the city of Akhetaten (Petrie et al. 1894, 23).25

                                                            

22 On a philosophical note, O’Connor (1987/8, 48) points out that the elements of these scenes encompass the boundaries of Akhetaten as well as the different areas within the city, which denote Mahu’s and the police force’s areas of responsibility, as well as emphasising a more conventionally Egyptian idea of the “cosmic completeness” (O’Connor 1987/8, 48) of the city, similar to the boundaries of the universe. 23 For discussions of the ancient roads see Petrie et al. (1894, 4), Davies (1906, 16), Aldred (1988, 65) and Darnell and Manassa (2007, 195). For recent research and maps of the road network see Kemp and Garfi (1993), Fenwick (2004) and Kemp (2008).

                                                            

24 See, for example, the Tomb Robbery Papyri from the reign of Ramesses IX in Breasted (1988). 25 For more on the barracks, see Petrie et al. (1894, 23), Pendlebury (1979, 131-5), Aldred (1988, 61) and Kemp and Garfi (1993, 63).

37

EMMELINE HEALEY Berman, L. 1998. ‘Overview of Amenhotep III and His Reign’. In Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, edited by O’Connor, D; Cline, E. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1-25. Binder, S. 2008. The Gold of Honour in New Kingdom Egypt. Australian Centre for Egyptology Studies 8. Oxford: Aris and Phillips Ltd. Brand, P. 1997. ‘The “Lost” Obelisks and Colossi of Seti I’. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 34: 101-14. Breasted, J. H. 1988. Ancient Records of Egypt, Volume 1. London: Histories & Mysteries of Man Ltd.

Figure 13 Photograph of Boundary Stela N with statues  to either side (after Davies 1908a, Plate XL).

Darnell, J. C. 1991. ‘Supposed Depictions of Hittites in the Amarna Period’. Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 18: 113-40.

Overlying all the scenes is a militaristic ideology conveyed through several techniques. The daily chariot ride by Akhenaten and Nefertiti and the ritual itself of gathering an audience that included foreigners, high officials, and military escorts, emphasises the strength and dominance of the royal couple. Motifs of bound foreigners and the smiting standard in Mahu’s tomb also serve to reinforce the ideology of the warrior-king who protects Egypt through the domination of foreign chaotic forces. Furthermore, it is significant to note that in every scene in which the royal couple is pictured there is always a military or police escort. This suggests that military and police representation is linked to the presence of the king, and that one of their important roles was the protection of the royal family.

Darnell, J. C; Manassa,C. 2007. Tutankhamun’s Armies: Battle and Conquest during Ancient Egypt’s Late 18th Dynasty. Hoboken: John Wiley & Sons Inc. Davies, N. de G. 1903-8. The Rock Tombs of El-Amarna, 6 vols. Boston: Egypt Exploration Fund. Decker, W. 1992. Sports and Games of Ancient Egypt. New Haven; London: Yale University Press. Fenwick, H. 2004. ‘Ancient roads and GPS survey: modelling the Amarna Plain’. Antiquity 78 (302): 880-5. Frankfort, H. 1927. ‘Preliminary report on the Excavations at Tell el-‘Amarnah, 1926-7’. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 13(3/4): 209-218.

The reliefs studied in this preliminary article point towards the functioning of the military and police as an integral part of Egyptian society in the capital of Akhetaten. With consideration for the limitations of the data, the selection of reliefs shows the potential for using the Amarna rock tomb reliefs as a source of evidence to expand the current knowledge of the role of the Amarna military and police within Egypt.

Gaballa, G. A. 1976. Narrative in Egyptian Art. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Galán, J. M. 1994. ‘The Heritage of Thutmosis III’s Campaigns in the Amarna Age’. In Essays in Egyptology in honor of Hans Goedicke, edited by Bryan, B; Lorton, D. San Antonio: Van Siclen Books, 91-102.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abd el-Razik, M. 1967. ‘Some Remarks on the Great Pylon of the Luxor Temple’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 22: 68-70.

Giles, J. F. 1997. The Amarna Age: Western Asia, Warminster: Aris and Phillips Ltd. Hartwig, M. 2004. Tomb Painting and Identity in Ancient Thebes, 1419-1372 BCE, Monumenta Aegyptiaca X: Série IMAGO No. 2. Turnhout: Brepols.

Aldred, C. 1980. Egyptian Art in the Days of the Pharaohs 3100-320 BC. London: Thames and Hudson. Aldred. C. 1988. Akhenaten: King of Egypt. London: Thames and Hudson.

Kemp, B. J. 1976. ‘The Window of Appearance at ElAmarna, and the Basic Structure of This City’. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 62: 81-99.

Andreu, G. 1982. ‘Polizei’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie, Band IV, edited by Helck, W; Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1068-71.

Kemp, B. J. 2006. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization, 2nd edn. London; New York: Routledge.

Arp, J. 2007. ‘The Private Tombs of Akhetaten. New Results from Old Publications’. In Proceedings of the Fourth Central European Conference of Young Egyptologists, edited by Endreffy, K; Gulyás, A. Studia Aegyptiaca XVIII. Budapest: Bausz KFT, 39-50.

Kemp, B. J. 2008. ‘Amarna’s ancient roads’. Horizon: The Amarna Project and Amarna Trust newsletter 3: 8-9. Kemp, B. J; Garfi, S. 1993. A Survey of the Ancient City of El -‘Amarna. London: The Egypt Exploration Society.

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The Decorative Program of the Amarna Rock Tombs: Unique Scenes of the Egyptian Military and Police excavation of the Palace of Amenhotep III. New York: Winthrop.

Meyers, E. L. 1981. A Program of Political Theology in Amarna Tomb Art: Imagery as Metaphor. PhD Thesis. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

Wachsmann, S. 1987. Aegeans in the Theban Tombs. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 20. Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters.

Morris, E. F. 2005. The Architecture of Imperialism: Military Bases and the Evolution of Foreign Policy in Egypt’s New Kingdom. Leiden and Boston: Brill.

Weatherhead, F. 2007. Amarna Palace Paintings. Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Society 78. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Murnane, W. J. 1985. The Road to Kadesh. Chicago: The Oriental Institute.

Weinstein, J. M. et al. 1998. ‘The World Abroad’. In Amenhotep III: Perspectives on His Reign, edited by O’Connor, D; Cline, E. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 233-70.

Murnane, W. J; Van Siclen III, C. 1993. The Boundary Stelae of Akhenaten. London and New York: Kegan Paul International. O’Connor, D. 1987/8. ‘Demarcating the Boundaries: an Interpretation of a Scene in the Tomb of Mahu, ElAmarna’. Bulletin of the Egyptological Seminar 9: 41-52.

Wilkinson, C. K. 1980. TT 192: Oriental Institute of Chicago, The Epigraphic Survey, The Tomb of Kheruef. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

O’Connor, D. 1995. ‘Beloved of Maat, the Horizon of Re: The Royal Palace in New Kingdom Egypt’. In Ancient Egyptian Kingship, edited by O’Connor, D; Silverman, D. P. Probleme der Ägyptologie 9. Leiden; New York; Köln: Brill, 263-300.

Yoyotte, J. 1952. ‘Un Corps de Police de l’Égypte Pharonique’. Revue d’Égyptologie 9: 139-51.

Panagiotopoulos, D. 2001. ‘Keftiu in Context: Theban Tomb-Paintings as a Historical Source’. Oxford Journal of Archaeology 20 (3): 263-83. Pendlebury, J. D. S. 1979. City of Akhenaten Part III: The Central City and the Official Quarters, 2nd edn. London: Egypt Exploration Society. Petrie, W. M. F. et al. 1894. Tell El-Amarna. Warminster: Aris & Phillips Ltd (reprint of original by Methuen & Co.). Robins, G. 1997. The Art of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum Press. Rommelaere, C. 1991. Les Chevaux du Nouvel Empire Égyptien: Origines, Races, Harnachement. Bruxelles: Connaissance de l’Égypte anciennes. Schulman, A. R. 1962. Military Rank, Title, and Organization in the Egyptian New Kingdom. Ph.D Thesis. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania. Schulman, A. R. 1982. ‘The Nubian War of Akhenaton’. L’Égyptologie en 1979: Axes prioritaires de recherches, Tome II. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 299-316. Shaw, I; Nicholson, P. 2002. The British Museum Dictionary of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum. Strudwick, N. 1994. ‘Change and Continuity at Thebes the Private Tomb after Akhenaten’. In The Unbroken Reed: Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt in Honor of A. F. Shore, edited by Eyre, C. J. et al. Occasional Papers of the Egypt Exploration Society 11. London: The Egypt Exploration Society, 321-36. Tytus, R. de P. 1903. A Preliminary Report on the Re-

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The Use of Myth in the Pyramid Texts Jennifer Hellum The Pyramid Texts of Unas, Teti, Pepi I, his queens Behenu, Ankhesenpepy II, and Mérétitès, Merenre, and Pepi II and his queens Neith, Apouit, and Wedjebteni, of the 5th and 6th Dynasties in the Old Kingdom are a handbook for the king to enter the realm of the pantheon, wherein also reside his ancestors.1 The content of the texts helps make certain the ascent of the king or queen into the sky to join Re and the other gods in the sunbarque. This was done through a variety of means, one of which was through the use of ritual genres, such as the opening of the deceased’s mouth, during which the deceased was offered food and clothing, and equipped with various daggers or knife-like weapons. Another means of helping with the ascent was through the use of diverse textual genres, such as mythic allusion, exhortation, and spells of protection, among others. A study of the mythic qualities of the architecture of temples and other religious establishments shows clear evidence that every part of these sacred buildings (architectural and design programs included), and by extension the entire religious process, was allusory in a mythic sense. This is something from which the Pyramid Texts were not exempt, as the corpus was a part of the design program of the 5th and 6th Dynasty pyramid complexes,2 a key part of the development of architectural and religious programs during the Old Kingdom.

chambers east of the antechamber is present from the reign of Djedkare-Isesi, the penultimate king of the 5th Dynasty; the Pyramid Texts do not appear until the reign of his successor, Unas. The change in Dynasty 5 to a simpler and more linear style of chamber arrangement may be an indication of an overall change in the focus of the religion, perhaps moving away slightly from the heliocentricity of the early 5th Dynasty. The 5th Dynasty layout of the tomb’s chambers is significantly well-suited to the inclusion of the texts. From here on, to the end of the 6th Dynasty, the pyramids are equipped with three rooms running east-west, one after the other, joined by short corridors, and a much longer corridor that runs north-south, leading to the entrance of the pyramid from the south wall of the antechamber (Sethe 1922 Band 3, 116, 120, 125, 139, 146). In each of the epigraphic pyramids of Dynasties 5 and 6 (i.e. those of Unas, Teti, Pepi I, Merenre, and Pepi II), the corridor descends until it reaches a ‘waiting room’ or vestibule (Wartesaal or salle d’attente; Sethe 1922 Band 3, 133) through which it passes, continuing horizontally until the antechamber is reached. The corridors in every pyramid have four portcullises, with the exception of Unas’, which has only three; the first is located before the ‘waiting room’ and the last three are located after the ‘waiting room’ and before the antechamber. The queens’ pyramids have only one room, the funerary chamber, reached from an entrance corridor. There is neither an antechamber nor a serdab. As a result, they “conflate … the texts that occupied the more extensive substructures of the pharaonic tombs” (Allen 1986, 1).

Beginning with Userkaf,3 the pyramids of the 5th and 6th Dynasties are considerably less architecturally complex than those of the 3rd and 4th Dynasties, and there is a remarkable consistency in the layout of the chambers of the later pyramids, unlike those of the earlier ones. The earlier pyramids of Dynasties 3 and 4 have several chambers, usually on different levels. The most complex example of this is the Step Pyramid of Djoser, which has extensive corridors on two levels, with magazines and galleries going in several directions. The 5th and 6th Dynasty pyramid chambers are placed on an east/west axis, and include only the antechamber, the burial chamber, and generally, a single storeroom or serdab. The layout of Userkaf, the first king of Dynasty 5, included the antechamber, the burial chamber, the entrance corridor, and two serdabs, present in the form of two chambers that were entered through a corridor that branched off to the east from the main corridor. The architectural notion of a serdab in the form of three

A certain amount of debate has been devoted to the ‘correct’ order in which to read the texts.4 They can be read either from the outside in, down the entrance corridor through the antechamber to the funerary chamber or in the opposite direction, beginning in the funerary chamber. This debate originated in the belief that the texts were read aloud by priests performing the funerary service and burial rituals, either coming into the pyramid down the corridor and into the epigraphic rooms, or exiting, having laid the deceased to rest, an essentially ritualistic understanding of the purpose of the corpus (Spiegel 1972). Sethe (1922 Band IV 2-4) and later Spiegel (1972, 17), following Sethe, postulate that the corridor texts would necessarily have been read outside and last, due to the physical restrictions of height. This is a suggestion not without superficial allure, but also with

                                                        

1 For Behenu see Grimal & Adly (2007, 209); Berger-el Naggar & Fraisse (2008, 1-27). For Ankhesenpepy II see Dobrev, V. et al. (2000, 275-296); Grimal & Adly (2003, 45); Mathieu et al. (2005, 129-138; 2008, 281-291). For Mérétitès see Grimal & Adly (2006, 215; 2007, 208-209). 2 See Bell (1985, 251-294); David (1982, 127-129); Reymond (1969) among others. 3 Allen (2005, 4). See Labrousse & Lauer (2000); Lehner (1997, 144).

                                                        

4 See, for example, Allen (1994, 16) in particular; Altenmüller (1972), Barta (1981), or Spiegel (1972, 18-32). For a discussion regarding the ritual use of the texts by priests and by the deceased, see Hays (2009, 47-94).

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JENNIFER HELLUM itself, as addressed by the ritual aspects of the texts, can be seen in a comparatively mundane light. What brings that journey into the divine is the presence of elements of myth, which include the names of deities, references to their actions, and the association of the king therewith.

attendant difficulties. For example, the height of descending passage in Unas’ pyramid is 1.31 m (Labrousse 1996, 24), and that of Teti’s descending passage is 1.12 m (Labrousse 1996, 50). Such a restricted height would cause physical difficulties for the priests, and would render the rituals undignified. The entrance corridor texts are resurrection and ascension texts, together with some ferry spells; exactly the types of text that would be essential to send the king’s spirit and soul skyward. To have such texts performed outside the pyramid’s entrance would serve to aid in that essential ascent. However, such a hypothesis does not tackle the question of the use of the texts in the pyramid once the structure had been sealed.

Upon examination of the mythic content of the texts, however, it appears that it does not hold to the architectural model, but rather, works in a more holistic fashion by creating the sacred and profoundly mythic space in which the king arises and ascends. The existence of the mythic elements creates within the pyramid’s chambers the effect of having the deceased king act as a participant in the myth of his ascension. Without these elements to create such a space, the ritual remains a nonreligious action performed for the sole benefit of the enactors. Thus, another hypothesis for the presence and use of the texts in the sealed pyramid is here proposed, namely that of a holistic group of texts used in a Mobiuslike fashion, without beginning or end, working as a simultaneous corollary to their ritual nature. The notion of reading the texts in a specific order, beginning from either the entrance corridor or the funerary chamber, is one that has meaning for the funerary ritual only; the deceased king, when he has arisen, will be enclosed in the sacred space created by the presence of the hieroglyphs on the walls, and accordingly enclosed by the myth of the royal ascension.

In order to address this, Spiegel (1972, 22) presents a theory, expanded upon by Allen (1994; 2005, 8-12), in which the two epigraphic chambers inside the pyramids represent the journey of the king to the sky. The purpose of this journey was to bring the king into the company of the deities and his ancestors. It completed the royal cycle, and implied the divine nature of the king was one not bound by life and death. This journey went from the mundane earth in the burial chamber through the antechamber and out through the entranceway. The burial chamber is equated architecturally with the duat and the antechamber with the akhet. Thus, the ba of the king wakens in the duat, flies up to the akhet, and out of the pyramids through the entranceways, which are also bound with texts until close to the entrance.5 Allen has divided the corpus into two sets of texts, one found in the antechamber, and the other in the burial chamber. Very broadly speaking, according to Allen, the set of texts in the funerary chamber consists of the Offering Ritual and the Resurrection Ritual,6 while the antechamber set of texts is intended to be used by the king in his journey through the afterlife to the akhet, towards becoming an akh himself (Allen 1994, 23; 1989, 1-28). These are less overtly ritual, with sparse or less obvious use of language, indicating actions performed by either the king or priests, clearly intended to be used in a ritualistic manner. The architecture of the chambers provides mythic space for movement into the afterlife. The generally ritual tenor of the texts in these chambers addresses the progression of the king’s ka through the pyramid chambers and accounts for the ritual aspects of the texts. It makes clear the route to the presence of Re, and is efficacious in the journey to the desired goal.

How this works on a mythic level is the question. The texts propelled the newly risen king from the burial chamber to the antechamber and out through the exit/entrance corridor. The broad meaning of each text serves this purpose, but the mythic content of the texts does not demonstrate the same forward momentum. In fact, it appears that when examining the mythic content, as separate from the ritual content, the texts follow no order whatsoever. A good example of this is the set of three texts, PTs 316-318. These three are found in ‘numerical’ order in Unas’ entrance corridor. PT 318 is also found in Teti’s antechamber, in two versions. PT 316 is as follows:7 “O Retreater, O Illuminer, the king cannot give you his magic. The king sits, his back against the sacred place in Heliopolis. The king will be taken away to the sky.” PT 317, slightly longer is:

Reaching the goal, however, is the result of a journey that is taken through mythic and sacred space. The ritualistic aspects of the texts in the burial chamber and antechambers do not provide supernatural protection and their efficacy is limited to the movement of the king from place to place. The safe movement of the king, a different matter, must be seen to by means of supernatural and mythic aid. Despite the divine objective, the journey

“Words to be spoken: the king comes today via the canal of the inundation. Sobek is the king, great of plumage, vigilant of face, and raised of front, Abesh, who comes in splendor, the tail of the Great Goddess who is in radiance/sunshine. The king has come to his canals, which are in the foreshore of the Great Inundation to the place of peace, green of fields, which is in the Akhet. The king will make the pastures flourish on the two

                                                        

5 The serdab is anepigraphic, and thus has no part in this architectural myth. 6 For an extensive bibliography of these comments and sources, see Allen (1994, 5, fn. 1).

                                                        

7 All translations are the author’s own. The names of Unas and Teti have been replaced with the term ‘the king’ in order to avoid specificity.

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The Use of Myth in the Pyramid Texts Sobek, the king is mythic, and as Sobek, he travels and arrives via canals or waterways of the horizon. He operates in the sky as a deity, with the expected divine abilities and powers. The last sentences in the utterance, in which the physically natural state of the king is emphasized, do not detract from the mythic nature of the king/Sobek; rather they reinforce the dual nature of the deities, as having animal and human form simultaneously.

banks of the Akhet. The king will bring the faience of the Great Eye, which is in the midst of the field. The king will seize his throne, which is in the Akhet. Unas rises as Sobek, son of Neith. The king eats with his mouth. The king urinates and the king copulates with his penis. The king is the seed, who takes women from their husbands to the place, which the king loves in accordance with that which his heart desires.”

The last text, PT 318, has similar mythic imagery. The king and a snake are bound in the same tripartite nominal construction, each embodying the other. He takes in seven uraei that then become part of him, as well, with their command of the enneads and the sovereign.

PT 318: “Words to be spoken: A snake is the king, the bull of the gods, who swallows the Seven Uraei, whose seven neckbones were created, who commanded the enneads, who commanded the sovereign. The mother of the king is the pelican. The king came so that he might take the fingernail of myrrh, myrrh in the fingernail. The king came so that he might take away your power, O Gods. Surround the king, so that he might harness your kas.”

Despite the physical placement of these Utterances, mythically they stand apart from each other, the only correspondence being a similar use of grammatical form that enforces the king as mythical being. While PT 317 concentrates on the king as Sobek / Sobek as king in the afterlife, it could not truly be considered a text of ascension, as it is assumed that the king has arrived in the afterlife already. Neither are PTs 316 and 318 ascension texts. In fact, these three texts have nothing, mythically, to do with one another. They have no correlation with deities mentioned, nor do they have any relationship stylistically. Thus the placement of these texts in the antechambers of Unas and Teti and the entranceway of Unas, would seem to be completely unrelated to the mythic content.

The mythic elements in PT 316 lie mainly in the personal names of ‘Retreater’ and ‘Illuminer’, which, perforce, make them mythical beings. It is often the case in the Pyramid Texts, and other later religious corpora, that minor deities are given epithets in place of names; so we get ‘Retreater’ or ‘the one who retreats’, and ‘Illuminer’ or ‘one who illuminates’. Both of these epithets may be referring to the sun, the Retreater as the setting sun and the Illuminer as the rising sun. By addressing them, the king is entering into conversation with them, placing himself in the context of the myth of the rising and setting sun. The magic of the king is mentioned, and the king is shown to be more powerful than either Retreater or Illuminer, through refusing to relinquish it to the supernaturals to whom he is speaking. It is more difficult to say how the following second sentence correlates to the first: the sacred place in Heliopolis is presumably the temple to Re at Heliopolis, but what mythic connotations that may have in this context are likely beyond us. That the king, in the next sentence, is to be taken to the sky is clearly part of the resurrection of the king and his ascendance into the afterlife.8

The difference between mythic and ritual content is primarily the difference between the supernatural or divine and mundane actions that bring the divine into the world. It is also, in some measure, the difference between thought and action. Ritual is often understood to be an enactment of myth, the performance of which creates a surrounding sacred space, and allows for the believers to feel the presence of their divinity. In the case of the Pyramid Texts, the action of the deceased king belongs to ritual, while a divine association with that action belongs to myth. These two are inextricably entwined, and the division can be subjective; trying to separate myth from ritual is often fruitless, particularly as neither the form of the rituals is known, nor the sequences of actions that make them up. Neither do we know the bulk of the narrative myths to which the allusions refer; indeed, there is the reasonable questioning of whether the myths exist in narrative form at all, this early in Egypt’s history (e.g. Baines 1996, 362-363).

PT 317 is more complicated and shares grammatical similarities with 318. The statement “Sobek is the king” (pace previous translations, which are generally “The king is Sobek”) explicitly joins the king with a deity, in such a way that Sobek and the king are one. The grammatical construction,9 a tripartite nominal sentence, indicates that such is intended.10 Immediately upon being

                                                        

Ritual can be found in the Pyramid Texts in the form of rubrics, which are particularly obvious in the offering texts found in the burial chamber, and statements. In the case of rubrics, they imply the offering of certain foods or ritual items such as clothing or emblems of office. The best examples of this are found in the offering texts in the burial chambers. PT 125 from both Unas’ and Teti’s chambers shows a particularly clear correlation between myth and ritual: “Osiris Unas brings for you his white and strong teeth. 4 white onions.” The teeth stand as

8

It is perhaps germane to the discussion here to note that the verb Sdi means both ‘to take away’, using a standing man holding a raised stick as a determinative, and ‘to suckle’, with a breast determinative. As is often the case with Old Egyptian, there is no determinative shown in the original; however, ‘to suckle’ would certainly fit, given the gender of the deity of the sky, Nut. Surely the notion of more than one layer of meaning for this was intentional on the part of the authors of the Pyramid Texts; indeed, such wordplay is rife throughout the corpus. 9 Wnis pi sbk. 10 See Loprieno (1995, 104-106) for a discussion of the bipartite and tripartite nominal sentence construction and translation.

43

JENNIFER HELLUM metaphor for the onions being offered; thus the action of offering is found in the reference to onions, while the teeth are solidly within mythic parameters. They can also include further instructions on delivery and repetition of certain gestures or motions. They act as instructional guides for the reciters or readers of the texts, and are generally unambiguously action-specific. The statements, however, are not quite as obvious.

clearly a ritual text, and specifically, Allen (2005, 85) places it as part of the morning ritual:

The form of myth in the Pyramid Texts is not narrative or literary, but allusive and, in the use of hieroglyphs, semiotic. Generally, in the Pyramid Texts, myth is found in the names of deities, in whatever association the king has with those deities, in their actions, and in the very hieroglyphs themselves. The understanding that the Egyptians had of the latent power of the hieroglyphic representations, and the necessity for mutilating ‘dangerous’ signs is well-known, and is found throughout the Pyramid Texts; it is exactly that perception and the symbolism inherent in the glyphs as purely representational, as opposed to deictic, figures that gives them their mythic property. Hieroglyphs hold within them a hidden and sacred meaning, when used in a religious context. They have the potential for great danger, as vivified images of men with sticks, lions, snakes, etc., but they also have the potential for healing and metamorphosis, on behalf of the king. Such glyphs as those associated with deities, and specifically for the Pyramid Texts, boat and food determinatives (among others) provide the king with transportation and sustenance.

Here, the verbs of movement are ‘to take’ (Ssp) and ‘to get dressed’ (wnx): “Take your dazzling garment, take your bleached garment on you, and get dressed…”.13 The garments, from the Lower Egyptian town of the weavers (WB V 231), are associated with the Eye of Horus, which lends them a divine aspect, and as a result, the garments bring the king to the notice of the gods and thence, to possession of the crown. The action is plainly related to a ritual in which the king is clothed, but it uses mythic associations to move the physical act of clothing from the mundane to the divine, using the Eye of Horus as the medium for the transition. Thus, the mythic content is inextricably mixed with the ritual content, which includes actions of the king, or actions the king is called upon to perform, as well as any mythic associations that may be used to enable the ritual to create sacred space. The rituals depend on the myth to operate properly,14 and to place the ritual within sacred time and space. The result of the ritual is a mythic event. What makes the event mythic as opposed to merely action with back-story is the allusion to the king as a divine being, to the deities, and to events that involve the king and the deities. Without those, the resulting texts would be meaningless and ineffective for the deceased royal.

“O, [king]. Take your dazzling garment, take your bleached garment on you, and get dressed with Horus’s eye from Weaving-town, and it will make your acclaim with the gods, and you will acquire the crown through it with Horus, lord of the elite.”

Mythic and ritual content are ubiquitous in the Pyramid Texts, with every individual text dealing in some measure with deities and their actions.11 They are present every time the name of a deity is mentioned, for example, or the king is associated with the deities and their actions. They are often found together in a text; PT 414§737,12 for example, combines the two in fairly equal parts. This particular text is found in the corpus of Teti in the passage to the serdab (Allen 2005, 85), in Pepi I in the burial chamber on the north wall, east end (Allen 2005, 112), in Merenre in the burial chamber on the sarcophagus (Allen 2005, 214), and in Pepi II in the burial chamber on the north wall, east end (Allen 2005, 261). It is spatially associated with the texts of resurrection found in the burial chamber in Pepi I, Merenre, and Pepi II, but it is more closely associated semantically with the antechamber texts in Teti. It is

The use of the mythic portions of the spells in terms of placement can be difficult, if not impossible, to discern. For example, there are numerous repetitive cycles that run through many of the spells, such as the Osiris and Seth cycle,15 the Horus and Seth cycle,16 and the reedfloat cycles.17 The placement of these spells vis-à-vis mythic content appears to be random. The reed-float cycles are particularly useful to examine in this regard, as the reed-floats are the vehicles by means of which the king passes over the marshes that are found in the geography of the sky in the afterlife, and hence are a vital portion of the ascension myth. The mythic content in these as a group lies primarily in the insertion of the king

                                                        

13 It should be noted that this text is also a good example of the use of word play in the form of puns, something at which the Egyptians excelled and used to magical effect in religious literature. The word for ‘to take’ (Ssp) is almost the same as the word for ‘dazzling garment’ (sSp). The S and the s are metathesized, but later writings of the word (WB IV 282-3) show that it became normal to write ‘dazzling garment’ with the fence (O42 - sSp). 14 And herein lies the chicken-and-egg debate concerning myth and ritual – which came first? See for example, Blackman (1918-1919, 2653); Hooke (1933); Frankfort (1952, 1-12); Fairman (1954, 165-203); Hooke (1958); Eliade (1959); Reymond (1969); Gaster (1975). For a bibliography devoted solely to myth and ritual, see Gaster (1984, 110111). 15 PTs. 218§162; 474§942; 477§§957-959, among many others. 16 PTs. 260§§318-319; 393§679. 17 PTs. 263-266 et alia.

                                                        

11 The possible exceptions to this may be those texts that appear to be glossolalic, with repetitions of sounds. These have been translated by Allen (2005), in particular Utts. 292 (Allen’s W198) and 502B (Allen’s P408 [despite a misnumbering of the text in the concordance]), with some sense made of them; however, the repetition of plosive sounds (ks and ts) is remarkable and unique in the corpus, and seems likely to have been part of the text as an oral and written whole. Glossolalia occurs when the speaker is in a religious trance, working much the same way as the whirling of the Sufi dervishes. It is possible, however, that these texts show remnants of another language, early Northwest Semitic. For a study of this, see Steiner (2011). 12 The traditional utterance and paragraph numbers have been used, rather than those proposed by Allen (2005), merely for ease of access.

44

The Use of Myth in the Pyramid Texts king with magic, protection, and advice in a mythically homogenous manner. Thus, the corpus in each pyramid was, in effect, one myth, both aiding and relating the journey of the king into the afterlife. It may even be postulated that the entire corpus of Pyramid Texts functions as non-narrative, non-literary myth, through their intended end of ascension, itself a mythic act, and their use in the movement of the king through the burial chamber into the antechamber and out the entrance passages.

into the company of the deities; the reed-floats are described as having been placed for certain deities, such as Horus of the Akhet (PT 263§337), among others, and then the king’s name is given in place of the deity’s, using otherwise identical language for each sentence (Hays 2004, 175-200). Movement over the floats to a final destination is implied, and can be understood as being part of the ascension myth. The cycle is found on the west-south (PT 263; Allen 2005, 48) and east-north (PT 303; Allen 2005, 56) walls of Unas’ antechamber; in the passage to the antechamber in Teti’s pyramid (PT 264; Allen 2005, 78); on the west wall of the antechamber (PT 265; Allen 2005, 125) and passageway (PT 266; Allen 2005, 165) of Pepi I’s pyramid; the westsouth walls (PT 473; Allen 2005, 221) and in the passageway (PT 609; Allen 2005, 230) of Merenre; and on the west gable and wall of Pepi II’s antechamber (PT 481; Allen 2005, 282). In fact, these texts are spread throughout all the epigraphic chamber walls. Their purpose within the larger ascension myth is plain, and thus pertinent to placement, particularly in the antechamber; however, the mythic content within each text does not have that same pertinence. Those texts that are shared by two or more pyramids are not found on the same walls, or even the same rooms, leading to questions regarding the relevance of placement with regard to mythic content.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Allen, J. 1986. ‘The Pyramid Texts of Queens Ipwt and WDbt-.n.(i) ’. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 23: 1-25. Allen, J. 1989. ‘The Cosmology of the Pyramid Texts’. In Religion and Philosophy in Ancient Egypt, edited by Simpson, W. K. New Haven: Yale Egyptological Seminar, 1-28. Allen, J. 1994. ‘Reading a Pyramid. In Hommages à Jean Leclant, Volume 1, edited by Berger, C; Clerc, G; Grimal, N. Bibliothèque d’Étude 106. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 5-28. Allen, J. 2005. The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts. Writings from the Ancient World, 23. Leiden; Boston: Brill.

Continuing to use the reed-float texts as an example, the mythic elements within them vary considerably in number and character. Those mythic allusions that are ubiquitous in this cycle are also the most common throughout the Pyramid Texts as a whole. These include the Akhet, Horus, the sun or Re, and Hathor. There is, however, abundant mention of other deities and divine sites; in total, 108 separate entities or sites are mentioned across this group of texts. Some of these are named in typically elliptical Egyptian fashion as “He of Shezmet” (PT 264; Allen 2005, 78), or “That vase of the Sun’s cool water that cleanses the Nile Valley land” (PT 515; Allen 2005, 158), others are more straightforward, such as, simply, “the Akhet”, or “Horus” in his various forms (passim). Some of the corpora have a greater number of elliptical references (such as the corpus of Pepi I) and others have many fewer, such as that of Unas. While it cannot be said for certain whether these differences indicate the personal choice of the king, they may suggest a slight change in religious direction from reign to reign. The difference in quantity of mythic allusion from Teti to Pepi I, for example, is significant enough to give one pause, and although the amount tapers off in Merenre’s and Pepi II’s pyramids, it is still considerably more abundant therein than is found in Unas’ and Teti’s corpora (Hellum 2011).

Altenmüller, H. 1972. Die Texte zum Begräbnisritual in den Pyramiden des Alten Reiches. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 24.Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Baines, J. 1996. ‘Myth and Literature’. In Ancient Egyptian Literature, edited by Loprieno, A. Probleme der Ägyptologie 10. Leiden: Brill, 361-377. Barta, W. 1981. Die Bedeutung der Pyramidentexte für den verstorbenen König. Münchner Ägyptologische Studien 39. Munich; Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag. Bell, L. 1985. ‘Luxor Temple and the Cult of the Royal Ka’. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 44: 251-294. Berger-el Naggar, C; Fraisse, M.-N. 2008. ‘Béhénou, ‘aimée de Pépy’, une nouvelle reine l’Égypte’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Caire 108: 1-27. Blackman, A. M. 1918-1919. ‘The Sequence of the Episodes in the Egyptian Daily Temple Liturgy’. Journal of the Manchester Egyptian and Oriental Society 8: 2653.

Mythically, the deceased is not lead from either direction in a clear and concise manner, something that would be expected from a handbook for celestial ascension. A sense of mythic continuity from text to text and chamber to corridor to chamber is often impossible to discern. The ‘handbook’ was for the use of the king, and was meant to be used as a whole with the texts serving to surround the

David, A. R. 1982. The Ancient Egyptians. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Dobrev, V. et al. 2000. ‘La dixième pyramide à textes de Saqqâra: Ânkhesenpépy II. Rapport préliminaire de la

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JENNIFER HELLUM Labrousse, A; Lauer, J.-P. 2000. Les complexes funéraires d’Ouserkaf et de Néferhétepès. Bibliothèque d’Étude 130. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale.

campagne de fouilles 2000’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Caire 100: 275-296. Eliade, M. 1959. The Sacred and the Profane – The Nature of Religion, New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.

Lehner, M. 1997. The Complete Pyramids. London: Thames and Hudson.

Fairman, H. W. 1954. ‘Worship and Festivals in an Egyptian Temple’. Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 37: 165-203.

Loprieno, A. 1995. Ancient Egyptian: A Linguistic Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Frankfort, H. 1952. ‘State Festivals in Egypt and Mesopotamia’. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 15: 1-12.

Mathieu, B. et al. 2005. ‘Recherches sur les textes de la pyramide de la reine Ânkhesenpépy II. 1. Le register supérieur de la paroi est de la chamber funéraire (A II/F/E sup)’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Caire 105: 129-138.

Gaster, T. H. 1975. Thespis – Ritual, Myth, and Drama in the Ancient Near East, New York: Gordian Press.

Mathieu, B. et al. 2008. ‘Recherches sur les textes de la pyramide de la reine Ânkhesenpépy II. 2. Le register inférieur de la paroi est de la chamber funéraire (A II/F/E inf.)’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Caire 108: 281-291.

Gaster, T. H. 1984. Myth and Story . In Sacred Narrative – Readings in the Theory of Myth, edited by Dundes, A. Berkeley: University of California Press, 110136. Grimal, N; Adly, E. 2003. ‘Fouilles et travaux en Égypte et au Soudan, 2000-2002: (m) Saqqâra’. Orientalia 72: 45.

Reymond, E. A. E. 1969. The Mythical Origin of the Egyptian Temple. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

Grimal, N; Adly, E. 2006. ‘Fouilles et travaux en Égypte et au Soudan, 2004-2005: (f) 1’. Orientalia 75: 215.

Sethe, K. 1922. Die altägyptischen Pyramidentexte. Band 3 & 4. Leipzig: Hinrichs Buchhandlung.

Grimal, N; Adly, E. 2007. ‘Fouilles et travaux en Égypte et au Soudan, 2005-2007: (f) 1’. Orientalia 76: 209.

Spiegel, J. 1972. Das Auferstehungsritual der UnasPyramide. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 23. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Hays, H. M. 2004. ‘Transformation of Context: The Field of Rushes in Old and Middle Kingdom Mortuary Literature’. In D’un monde à l’autre: Textes des pyramides et Textes des Sarcophages. Actes de la table ronde internationale "Textes des Pyramides versus Textes des Sarcophages", IFAO, 24-26 septembre 20001, edited by Bickel, S. Bibliothèque d’Étude 139. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 175-200.

Steiner, R. C. 2011. Early Northwest Semitic Serpent Spells in the Pyramid Texts. Harvard Semitic Studies 61. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns.

Hays, H. 2009. ‘Old Kingdom Sacerdotal Texts’. Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap ‘Ex Oriente Lux’ 41: 47-94. Hellum, J. 2011. ‘Pepi I: a Case Study of Royal Religious Devotion in the Old Kingdom’. In Australasian Society for Classical Studies Selected Proceedings 32, edited by Mackay, A. Accessed at: http://ascs.org.au/news/ ascs32/Hellum.pdf. Hooke, S. H. (editor). 1933. Myth and Ritual. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hooke, S. H. (editor). 1958. Myth, Ritual, and Kingship. Oxford: Clarendon. Labrousse, A. 1996. L’Architecture des pyramides à textes I.  Bibliothèque d’Étude 114/1-2. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 24.

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The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics: Applying a New Method Amber G. E. Hooda and James L. Valentineb of parsimony (also known as Occam’s Razor) is employed, which advocates that the simplest hypothesis should be accepted. Based on this principle, cladograms are constructed to minimise the number of evolutionary transforms required to explain the variation between the organisms included. As a result, organisms that share many derived characters are grouped more closely together in a cladogram than those that do not (Wiley et al. 1991; Kitching et al. 1998; Lipscomb 1998; Figure 1).

INTRODUCTION It has become increasingly evident across the field of Egyptian archaeology in the past decade that many future aspects of research and enquiry lie in quantitative multidisciplinary scientific approaches. One such approach is the application of Darwinian evolutionary theory (i.e. a phylogenetic approach) which has been discussed and employed with increasing frequency over the past two decades as phenetic methods have now largely been abandoned.1 Based on the concept of biological evolution that describes variation and changes in organisms through time via natural selection, evolutionary archaeology seeks to trace variations and changes in the archaeological record through time.2 As evolutionary archaeology is a theoretical approach to the interpretation of archaeology, it must also be used in conjunction with an appropriate quantitative methodology, such as cladistics. Cladistics is a quantitative method for establishing and studying evolutionary relationships between organisms based upon shared derived characters. Shared derived characters are features that occur in two or more taxa that differ from the ancestral condition. Such characters can be physical (i.e. morphological), molecular (i.e. genetic), or behavioural, many of which have a genetic basis and are therefore inheritable. The result of a cladistic analysis is a branching, hierarchical tree, called a cladogram, that represents a hypothesis about the evolutionary relationships between the organisms included (Figure 1). Given the potentially limitless number of hypotheses that could be generated to explain the evolutionary relationships between a group of organisms, the principle

Figure 1 Example of a generic cladogram.  Formulated by the German entomologist, Willi Hennig (1950), cladistics did not become well known until translated into English (Hennig 1966), but has now become a common and widespread technique throughout palaeontological and biological disciplines. More recently, cladistics has also been successfully employed in other research areas including linguistics (e.g. Gray & Jordan 2000; Holden 2002; Rexová et al. 2003; Johnson 2008), textural criticisms (e.g. Robinson & O’Hara 1996), ethology (e.g. Proctor 1992; Paterson et al. 1995) and even business studies (e.g. McCarthy et al. 2000; Baldwin et al. 2005; McCarthy 2005).

a Research Laboratory for Archaeology and the History of Art, University of Oxford. Email: [email protected] b Department of Biological Sciences, Macquarie University. Email: [email protected] 1 For example, Barton & Clark (1997a); (1997b); Lyman & O’Brien (1997); (2006a); (2006b); Neff & Larson (1997); Broughton & O’Connell (1999); O’Brien & Lyman (1999); (2000); (2002); (2003); (2009); Preucel (1999); Collard & Shennan (2000); O’Brien (2001); Murray (2002); O’Brien et al. (2002a); Gabora (2006); Lycett (2007); Buchanan & Collard (2008); see also Lipo et al. (2006) for an edited volume with select articles on this topic. 2 Evolutionary archaeology is a topic that has been and continues to be heavily debated and it is beyond the scope of this paper to provide a comprehensive literature review on the subject. We refer the reader to the aforementioned references for a brief introduction to the concept of evolutionary archaeology and the surrounding debate. For the purposes of this paper, we consider evolutionary archaeology to be identical to the theoretical approach used in the many works of O’Brien and Lyman, who in turn quote Endler (1986) in saying that evolutionary archaeology follows the concept of ‘any net directional change or any cumulative change in the characteristics of organisms or populations over many generations – in other words, descent with modification’ (O’Brien & Lyman 2000, 77).

The use of cladistics to explore phylogenetic trends in material culture, both in archaeology and anthropology, has been gaining momentum, particularly over the past decade. In this field, cladistics has been used to investigate hominin and human migration patterns based on assemblages of stone tools such as hand axes and projectile points (e.g. O’Brien et al. 2001; Darwent & O’Brien 2006; Buchanan & Collard 2007; 2008; Lycett 2007; 2009), cultural evolution based on textile designs and weaving techniques (e.g. Tehrani & Collard 2002; 2009), the influence of language and geographic proximity on California Indian basketry assemblages (e.g. Jordan & Shennan 2003) and the spread of Neolithic crop-based agriculture (e.g. Coward et al. 2008). We are aware, however, of only a single example of cladistics being applied to ceramics: Collard & Shennan (2000) used cladistics to investigate the roles played by ethnogenesis and phylogenesis in the generation of

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AMBER HOOD and JAMES VALENTINE To establish ceramic taxa or Types (equivalent to the classes of O’Brien et al. (2002b) and the ‘Operational Taxonomic Units’ of Lycett (2007)), a combination of 13 intensional and extensional characters (sensu Dunnell 1971) was defined for each of the four main OSJ types identified by Köhler & Smythe (2004) and referred to herein as Type 1-4 OSJ (Table 1; Figure 3).3 Both intensional and extensional characters were defined based on Aston’s (1998) descriptions of ceramic vessels and include those characters typically used to describe and define ceramic vessels such as vessel shape (closed or open), rim type (modelled or rolled), neck profile (straight, convex or concave), shoulder profile (angular, subangular or rounded) and base shape (rounded, flattened, flat, pointed or lentoid)4 (Figure 2 and summarised in Table 1; Aston 1998). It should be recognised here that as this paper is a first attempt at using cladistics with Egyptian ceramics, it is also a firstattempt at discussing the ceramics herein using intensionally defined characters. As such it is necessary to acknowledge that the characters here are in no way final and it is likely that in future studies, these morphological characters will be reassessed and redefined.

Neolithic pottery assemblages from Merzbach Valley, Germany. In this paper we provide the first example of how cladistics can also be applied to the study of Early Dynastic Egyptian ceramics to provide a more in-depth understanding of the developing ceramic corpus and to provide new insights into the features that signal gradual change in ceramic development.

MATERIAL AND METHODS Material The ceramic material used for the cladistic analysis in this paper is based upon the ceramic assemblage from current excavations at Helwan, by the Helwan Project under the direction of E. C. Köhler. In particular, this paper uses data from excavation area Operation 4, Tombs 1-50 (Köhler unpub. data). The Helwan data was further supplemented with published material from Buto (Köhler 1998), Minshat Abu Omar (Kroeper & Wildung 2000) and Elephantine (Raue 1999). This combined dataset ranges from the late First Dynasty through to the early Old Kingdom, namely the latest stages of the archaeological Naqada culture (Naqada IIID), which presently has a poorly defined ceramic assemblage. From this available material, ovoid storage jars (OSJ), commonly known as ‘beer jars’, were selected for cladistic analysis. The decision to focus this initial cladistic analysis on OSJ was for three main reasons. First, OSJ are a common component of the Early Dynastic ceramic assemblage, allowing a large dataset for analysis to be established. Indeed, 123 complete OSJ are available from Helwan Operation 4, Tombs 1-50. Secondly, Köhler & Smythe (2004) undertook a preliminary typological assessment of Naqada IIIA/B to IIID OSJ from Helwan based on changes in morphology and surface features. Finally, chronological assessment for the typological sequence of Helwan OSJ (Köhler & Smythe 2004) provides a robust timeframe against which the results of this cladistic analysis can be compared. Establishing OSJ Types and Characters

Figure 2 Base Shape and Rim Type terminology based on  Aston 1998. 

The description of ceramic objects, including Egyptian ceramics, generally focuses upon documenting and describing the overall morphology, surface features and composition of individual vessels, rather than focusing on the specific morphological features of types of ceramic vessels. This situation is akin to describing the morphological features of each individual member of a species without establishing the common morphological feature or features that not only unite those individuals as members of the same species, but also separate them from closely related species. Since cladistics establishes evolutionary relationships between species (or higher taxonomic ranks) rather than individuals, the erection of ceramic taxa is required. As described by O’Brien et al. (2002b), this is one of the greatest challenges in using cladistics to create phylogenetic histories of material culture.

Although fabric is an important component of all ceramic vessels, fabric type was not included as a character. At present, no correlation between fabric type and morphology is observable in our OSJ dataset. It should be noted that when further material is collected for future studies, fabric will be assessed for its suitability for inclusion in future cladistic analyses. 3 It should be noted here that this study does not endeavour to classify OSJ solely on intensional characters, which would perhaps be ideal from a classificatory point of view (Dunnell 1971). However, it must be stressed that this paper seeks only to be an initial attempt at applying cladistic analysis to Egyptian ceramics and that subsequent work will ensure that only intensional characters and types are incorporated into future analyses. 4 Aston’s (1998) term ‘carinated base’ we feel is too similar to ‘carinated rim’ and may cause confusion in the analysis. Therefore we have substituted ‘lentoid’ for the term ‘carinated’, which we believe is a more verbally accurate description for this particular type of base.

48

The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics

Rim

General vessel shape

vessel shape

vessel index

position of maximum diameter

Type 1 OSJ (outgroup) (n=14)

LSJ 2 (n=2)

LSJ 1 (n=16)

Type 2 OSJ (n=27)

Type 3 OSJ (n=19)

Type 4, Form 1 OSJ (n=32)

Type 4, Form 2 OSJ (n=4)

Type 5 OSJ (n=9)

closed

closed

closed

closed

closed

closed

closed

closed

1.34 - 1.90 1.61 - 1.73 1.54 - 1.82 1.66 - 2.29 (mean = 1.69) (mean = 1.67) (mean = 1.72) (mean = 1.80)

middle

middle (81%) high (19%)

high (81%) middle (19%)

high (74%) middle (26%)

high (94%) middle (6%)

middle

high

section profile

subangular

subangular

subangular

subangular

subangular

subangular (94%) rounded (6%)

subangular

subangular

body surface

scraped

scraped

scraped

scraped

combined (scraped/wavy)

wavy

wavy

wavy

rim type

modelled (79%) rolled? (21%)

rolled

rolled (88%) modelled? (12%)

rolled (74%) modelled (26%)

rolled (63%) modelled (37%)

modelled (97%) rolled (3%)

modelled

modelled

external

external

external

external

external

direct

direct

direct

subangular (64%) rounded (29%) angular (7%)

angular (50%) subangular (50%)

subangular (75%) angular (25%)

subangular (59%) rounded (41%)

subangular (63%) rounded (32%) angular (5%)

subangular (56%) rounded (44%)

rounded (75%) subangular (25%)

rounded (56%) subangular (44%)

straight

straight (81%) concave (19%)

concave (53%) straight (47%)

straight (94%) concave (6%)

straight

straight

convergent (89%) parallel (11%)

convergent (56%) parallel (44%)

convergent (75%) parallel (25%)

convergent (89%) parallel (11%)

rim morphology

Neck

straight (64%) neck profile convex (36%)

Shoulder

2.01 - 2.42 1.92 - 2.15 1.64 - 2.38 (mean = 2.19) (mean = 2.05) (mean = 2.13)

high

rim character

Base

1.57 - 2.01 (mean = 1.82)

straight (70%) concave (26%) convex (4%) convergent (52%) parallel (41%) divergent (7%)

neck shape

convergent (93%) parallel (7%)

convergent

convergent (75%) parallel (25%)

type of collar

collar absent

collar absent

collar absent

collar absent

collar absent

collar absent

collar absent

striated (44%) ridged (44%) ribbed (11%)

angular

rounded (69%) subangular (31%)

rounded (70%) subangular (26%) angular (4%)

subangular (68%) rounded (16%) angular (16%)

subangular (59%) angular (25%) rounded (16%)

shoulder absent

subangular (67%) angular (33%)

lentoid

rounded (63%) pointed (26%) flattened (7%) flat (4%)

rounded (47%) pointed (37%) flattened (11%) flat (5%)

pointed (53%) rounded (38%) flattened (9%)

pointed (75%) rounded (25%)

rounded (56%) pointed (44%)

shoulder profile

base shape

angular (50%) subangular (50%)

flat (86%) pointed (8%) rounded (8%)

lentoid

Table 1 Distribution of morphological features across OSJ Types and Forms. Morphological features  considered to be intensional for each OSJ Type and Form are italicised. The frequency of occurrence of each  feature is indicated as a percentage. 

49

AMBER HOOD and JAMES VALENTINE At present, however, fabric type appears to be more indicative of the region of manufacture rather than phylogeny, and so is unlikely to be a useful character in cladistics. Here it is also worthwhile remembering that Petrie (1921, 6) observed that certain ceramic forms pass through several different fabric types. As a result, Petrie did not always pay particular attention to the fabrics of early Egyptian ceramic assemblages during typological assessment. It must be understood that this does not in any way detract from the importance of fabric in the overall assessment and study of ceramics, but it does support an assertion that fabric type is not a useful character in cladistic analyses at this early stage.

separate type or form within the cladistic analysis, two additional morphological form variants of Type 2 OSJ were discerned, both displaying a characteristic ‘lentoid’ base, here called LSJ 1 and LSJ 2 (Figure 4b). It remains to be clarified whether this vessel is a Type in its own right or a form variant of Type 2 due to regional variation, form function or another cause (see discussion below). At the end of this process, eight morphologically distinct OSJ Types and Forms had been defined (Figure 5 and Table 1).5 The 13 characters described for each OSJ Type and Form indicated a high level of morphological variation in each one (i.e. interspecific variation or variation within types) (Table 1). This variation may be the result of ‘mistakes’ being made during the manufacturing process, or that there are additional OSJ type variations in the data set that have not been recognised. Furthermore, it is possible that these high levels of variation may result from the inclusion of transitional forms between Types. For example, Type 1 OSJ are defined as having a flat base (Köhler and Smythe 2004), however, several vessels in our dataset that have an overall body shape and general characters of a Type 1 OSJ, display a rounded or pointed base. As a true Type 1 OSJ would have only a flat base, those with non-flat bases could be considered a transitional Type in-between Type 1 OSJ and Type 2 OSJ. Such high levels of variation (regardless of whether they have been caused by ‘mistakes’ or are simply transitional forms) have the potential to collapse nodes (the branching points in cladograms) due to the fact that too many potentially equally parsimonious evolutionary relationships can be established. To counter this, only those characters occurring with a frequency of more than 10% of individuals for each OSJ Type in Table 1 were considered to be cladistically informative and included in the cladistic analysis. For instance an ‘angular’ shoulder profile of Type 2 OSJ was not considered to be cladistically informative since it only occurs in 4% of individual Type 2 OSJ.

Figure 3 Dynastic Beer Jar Typology (after Köhler and  Smythe 2004, figure 2, page 134). 

Figure 4a Type 5 Beer Jar; Figure 4b Lentoid‐based  Storage Jar, Form 1 (LSJ 1) and Lentoid‐based Storage  Jar, Form 2 (LSJ 2) (line drawings from unpub. Helwan  data, courtesy of the Helwan Project).  The same 13 characters were then defined for all 123 OSJ vessels in our dataset which allowed 96 of them to be identified as either a Type 1, 2, 3 or 4 OSJ. Additionally, through personal observation (by AH), Type 4 OSJ could be subdivided into two morphologically distinct form variants: those with a distinct shoulder (Type 4, Form 1) and those with the more traditional ‘bullet’ shape (Type 4, Form 2).

Since cladistics is based upon the presence of shared derived characters, only those characters presented in Table 1 that appear in two or more OSJ Types are cladistically informative and included in the analysis. Although some ceramic vessels may have a highly distinctive and unique morphological feature, such as the striated, ridged or ribbed collar of Type 5 OSJ that allow it to be quickly and easily identified (i.e. intensional features), unless such features are present in two or more

The morphological features of the remaining 27 OSJ were considered sufficiently different to warrant two additional OSJ types to be defined. The first, a fifth type of OSJ, the distinctive ‘collared beer jar’ (e.g. Köhler 2004), which exhibits a prominent prominent collar, is named a Type 5 OSJ here for convenience (Figure 4a). Type 5 OSJ appear to have developed directly from Type 4 OSJ and continue well into the Old Kingdom assemblage (e.g. Raue 1999; Köhler 2004; Köhler & Smythe 2004). Secondly, although not defined as a

5 It is important to note here that although the variations or ‘forms’ are established as ‘Types’ for the purpose of the cladistic analysis in this paper (i.e. LSJ 1, LSJ 2 and Type 4 Form 1 and 2), we do not believe that there is as yet sufficient evidence in the archaeological record or ceramic analysis to determine these forms as ‘Types’ within the Egyptological literature. Indeed the lentoid based vessels will need far more examination before they can be confidently defined in the literature as a distinct type. However, in the case of the Type 5 OSJ, AH believes it is now possible to start considering this an individual Type in its own right.

50

The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics

Figure 5 The eight morphologically distinct OSJ/LSJ Types and Forms identified in this study (line drawings: Type 1‐3  after Köhler and Smythe 2004, figure 2, page 134; LSJ 1, LSJ 2, Type 4 Form 1, Type 4 Form 2 from unpubl. Helwan  data, courtesy of the Helwan Project). 16 characters derived from Table 1 define the list of characters and character states in Table 2, as well as a character matrix that shows the distribution of these character states across the eight OSJ Types and Forms (Table 3).

vessels they do not provide any information on evolutionary relationships. The overall body shape, whilst being an intensional feature of OSJ, is also cladistically uninformative since all OSJ in our dataset have an oval body shape, apart from Type 1 OSJ which has an inverted triangle body shape. Such features (known as autapomorphies) evolve after the split from the common ancestor with the most closely related species. Likewise, morphological features common to all OSJ in Table 1, such as a closed vessel shape, do not shed any light on evolutionary relationships either. Such character states merely indicate the presence of an ancestral feature (called symplesiomorphies) retained within the group from the ancestral form and therefore were not included either. Such uninformative characters do not help establish evolutionary relationships.

Ingroup and Outgroup OSJ As discussed above, the OSJ from Helwan Operation 4, particularly the material from Tombs 1-50 (Köhler unpub. data), supplemented by additional material from Buto and Elephantine (Köhler 1998; Raue 1999 respectively) were chosen for cladistic analysis. These OSJ form the ingroup, or the group of ceramic vessels that evolutionary relationships will be established for. Another major challenge of using cladistics to establish a phylogenetic sequence of material artefacts is the selection of an appropriate outgroup (O’Brien et al. 2002b). The role of the outgroup is to define ancestral and derived character states within the ingroup. To achieve this, the outgroup should be closely related to the ingroup and display the ancestral character states of that

Ultimately, the characters considered to be cladistically informative in Table 1 (independent of their status as intensional or extensional features) were used to define 15 binary (e.g. absent/present) and one unordered, multistate character (e.g. absent/present, state 1/present, state 2) for each of the eight OSJ Types and Forms. These

51

AMBER HOOD and JAMES VALENTINE group (Smith 1994). As such, selection of an appropriate outgroup is an essential requirement of any cladistic analysis (Nixon & Carpenter 1993; Smith 1994; LyonsWeiler et al. 1998). In this analysis, the Type 1 OSJ as described by Köhler & Smythe (2004) in their typological sequence of OSJ, supplemented by published material from Minshat Abu Omar (Kroeper & Wildung 2000), was selected as the outgroup. The Type 1 OSJ, whose first occurrence dates to Naqada IIIA/B, is not only absent in the Helwan Operation 4, Tombs 1 – 50 material, but is also significantly older than any of the material in our dataset (see discussion of chronological placing of this vessel type in Köhler 1998; Kroeper & Wildung 2000; Kroeper 2003; Köhler & Smythe 2004). Although such a stratigraphic approach to outgroup selection is not without critics (e.g. Eldredge & Carcraft 1980; Aiello & Dean 1990; O’Brien & Lyman 2003), the stratigraphic position of individual taxa should not be ignored in phylogenetic analyses (e.g. Harper 1976; Gingerich & Schoeninger 1977; Szalay 1977; Fortey & Chatterton 1988). The Type 1 OSJ was therefore accepted as being the most likely candidate to represent the ancestral OSJ condition. 1.

Mean vessel index: 0. 1.60-1.79 1. 1.80-1.99 2. >2.00

9.

Concave neck: 0. absent 1. present

2.

Middle maximum diameter: 0. absent 1. present

10.

Parallel neck: 0. absent 1. present

3.

High maximum diameter: 0. absent 1. present

11.

Angular shoulder: 0. absent 1. present

4.

Rolled rim: 0. absent 1. present

12.

Subangular shoulder: 0. absent 1. present

5.

External rim: 0. absent 1. present

13.

Rounded shoulder: 0. absent 1. present

6.

Direct rim: 0. absent 1. present

14.

Rounded base: 0. absent 1. present

7.

Angular rim: 0. absent 1. present

15.

Pointed base: 0. absent 1. present

8.

Rounded rim: 0. absent 1. present

16.

Lentoid base: 0. absent 1. present

(Swofford & Beagle 1991) with five trees saved per replicate. The tree bisection and reconnection (TBR) branch swapping algorithm (Swofford & Beagle 1991) was used to search for minimal length trees and to ensure that the most parsimonious tree was obtained. The COLLAPSE option was in effect, but the STEEPEST DESCENT option was not used, during the branch swapping procedure. The MULTREES option was used so that all minimal length trees found during the branchand-bound search were saved, allowing the branch swapping procedure to find the best tree. Character states were optimised using accelerated transformations (AACTRAN) (Farris 1970; Swofford & Maddison 1987; 1993; Maddison & Maddison 1992). Cladogram robustness was assessed using two goodness of fit measures, the consistency index (CI) and the retention index (RI). The CI (Kluge & Farris 1969) ranges from 0.0 to 1.0 and provides an indication of the level of homoplasy (i.e. characters that have arisen through convergent evolution rather than being derived from a shared ancestry) in a cladogram. The higher the CI, the less homoplasy is present. The RI (Farris 1989) also ranges from 0.0 to 1.0, but measures the level of synapomorphy (i.e. derived, homologous characters that define a clade) in a cladogram. A RI of 1.0 indicates every character is a synapomorphy. Bootstrapping (Efron 1979; 1981; 1982), a heuristic tool (Carpenter 1992), was also used to assess the robustness of individual nodes of the cladogram based on 10,000 replicates in PAUP with simple stepwise addition sequences and one tree saved per replicate. All other conditions for the bootstrapping procedure were the same as those outlined for the cladistic analysis above.

RESULTS Cladistic analysis of the character matrix presented in Table 3 generated a single tree, 26 steps long, with a CI of 0.65 and an RI of 0.68 (Figure 6). Synapomorphic features supporting numbered internal nodes of the strict consensus tree (Figure 6) are listed in Table 4. Monophyly of the OSJ is not supported by this analysis and the preliminary typological sequence established by Köhler & Smythe (2004) of Naqada IIIA/B to IIID OSJ from Helwan is not entirely consistent with this analysis either. The evolutionary relationships at the base of the strict consensus tree between the Type 1 OSJ (outgroup), LSJ 1 and 2 and Types 2-5 OSJ are unclear. LSJ 1 and LSJ 2 form a clade supported by 93% of bootstrap replicates (Figure 6 and Table 4). Synapomorphic features supporting this clade include an angular rim (character 7, state 1) and a lentoid base (character 16, state 1). Types 2-5 OSJ form a clade supported by 87% of bootstrap replicates. Synapomorphic features supporting this clade include a vessel index of 1.88-1.99 (character 1, state 1), neck with parallel sides (character 10, state 1) and rounded (character 14, state 1) or pointed (character 15, state 1) base.

Table 2 List of characters and character states (based on  OSJ characters presented in Table 1) that were used in  the cladistic analysis of OSJ Types and Forms.  Cladistic Analysis The cladistic analysis was conducted using PAUP* (Phylogenetic Analysis Using Parsimony) version 4.0 beta 10 (Swofford 2002). A heuristic search analysis was run using 1000 random stepwise addition sequences

52

The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics 1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Type 1 OSJ

0

0

1

1

1

0

0

1

0

0

1

1

0

0

0

0

LSJ 1

0

1

0

1

1

0

1

0

0

0

1

0

0

0

0

1

LSJ 2

0

1

1

1

1

0

1

0

1

1

0

1

1

0

0

1

Type 2 OSJ

1

1

1

1

1

0

0

1

1

1

0

1

1

1

1

0

Type 3 OSJ

1

1

1

1

1

0

0

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

1

0

Type 4, Form 1 OSJ

2

0

1

0

0

1

0

1

0

1

1

1

1

1

1

0

Type 4, Form 2 OSJ

2

1

0

0

0

1

0

1

0

1

0

0

0

1

1

0

Type 5 OSJ

2

0

1

0

0

1

0

1

0

1

1

1

0

1

1

0

Table 3 Character state matrix of the 16 characters used in the cladistic analysis of OSJ types and forms. See Table 2  for character state definitions. Node 1

Bootstrap support values 93

Synapomorphic characters angular or rounded rim present; lentoid base present

2

85

3

87

mean vessel index 1.80-1.99; rounded or pointed base present

4

94

mean vessel index >2.00; rolled and external rims lost; direct rim present

5

57

Table 4 Synapomorphic features and bootstrap support values for numbered internal nodes of the cladogram  presented in Figure 6.   

  Figure 6 Single cladogram produced by cladistic analysis of the character matrix shown in Table 3. Synapomorphic  characters and bootstrap support values for numbered internal nodes are presented in Table 4 (line drawing  references as in Figure 5).   

53

AMBER HOOD and JAMES VALENTINE would result in the erection of potentially invalid Types and Forms. It is therefore essential to exercise caution when examining defining characteristics to avoid this problem.7 It would, however, perhaps be possible to erect transitional Types (and hence Types in their own right in cladistic analysis), which considered variation in characters (i.e. a variation of Type 1 OSJ would be those vessels, discussed above, with a rounded or pointed base, rather than a flat base, thus being ‘Type 1/2 transitional OSJ’ for example). Weighting characters (i.e. stating that some characters are more significant in the evolution of a group than others) can also be used to reduce the impact that such noise has in a cladistic analysis; however, selecting which characters to weight is frequently an arbitrary process (Felsenstein 1981; Suter 1994) and implies that both the phylogeny of the group and the significance of the characters used are already known (Smith 1994).

DISCUSSION Relationships between Ovoid Storage Jars The following discussion examines the results of the cladistic analysis in relation to the preliminary relative typology of OSJ discussed by Köhler & Smythe (2004), which is further supplemented herein based on published OSJ data by Raue (1999) and Kroeper & Wildung (2000).6 According to the strict consensus tree, Type 4 and Type 5 OSJ are most derived relative to the outgroup (Type 1 OSJ). This indicates that they have undergone the largest number of morphological changes from the ancestral condition as exemplified by Type 1 OSJ. Type 5 OSJ are most likely to be closely related to Type 4 OSJ, and Type 4, Form 1 OSJ in particular.

By removing insignificant characters in large populations (i.e. those occurring less than 10% of the time) their impacts upon the outcome of the cladistic analysis are also removed, but all characters within small populations (i.e. those with less than 10 individuals) are retained since it is not possible to determine the dominance of a particular character state or states for such OSJ. Whether a 10% cut-off for character inclusion as used here is required for all types of ceramic vessels requires further investigation. Finally, it is also possible to only erect Types based upon intensionally defined characters, as advocated by Dunnell (1971). By doing this, it would remove the somewhat biased influence of preconceived knowledge (extensional) regarding the already established typology of OSJ.

Type 4, Form 2 OSJ, although still closely related to Type 4, Form 1 OSJ, are slightly less derived relative to the outgroup (i.e. they have undergone slightly fewer morphological changes than either Type 4, Form 1 or Type 5 OSJ relative to the outgroup). Types 2 and 3 OSJ appear to be more closely related to the outgroup, although they still show multiple derived morphological characters relative to the outgroup. Types 2 and 3 are clustered together as a result of their being morphologically more similar to each other than to the other Types (see Table 4 and Figure 6). It seems clear from the process of identifying characters during the initial stages of this study that a large amount of variation exists within many of the characters investigated. Only by including those characters that occur with a frequency of greater than 10% in each OSJ Type was it possible to obtain a clear and strongly supported evolutionary signal. Such ‘noise’ is generated by the large number of character states exhibited by each character. For example, the base shape of Type 1 OSJ can be flat, rounded or pointed (Table 1). However, each of these alternative character states for the base shape is treated as being of equal importance in a cladistic analysis, regardless of how frequently they occur. The inclusion of such ‘noise’ in the character matrix serves only to collapse nodes (branching points), reducing support and masking the evolutionary signal in the character matrix.

Despite the overall success of using cladistics to establish evolutionary relationships and morphological changes within OSJ, the evolutionary relationships between LSJ 1 and LSJ 2 and other OSJ Types and Forms are unclear (Figure 6). Revision of the characters and character states used in this analysis and/or the inclusion of additional characters and character states should help resolve the evolutionary relationships between these groups. However, this result could also indicate a previously unforseen benefit of applying cladistics to Egyptian ceramics – the ability to identify anomalies within already established typological sequences that were not immediately apparent based upon visual analysis alone. Although the occurrence of a vessel with a lentoid base is unusual (Köhler pers. comm. 2009), we maintain that LSJ are morphologically distinct and may, upon further study, represent a viable form variant or type. This illustrates that the situation for these vessels is more complex than previously conceived and raises several questions. Could the morphological differences in lentoid-based OSJ result from regional variation, or morphological convergence in

A number of potential solutions exist to rectify this problem. Additional characters can be defined; however, given that this problem exists for many of the characters used in this analysis, defining additional characters will likely only increase the problem. Additional OSJ Types could be erected, but splitting them into finer and finer subdivisions, especially if such variations are attributable to mistakes made during the manufacturing process

7

It is interesting to note here a study by Miller (1985). In his ethnographic account of contemporary ceramic production in India, Miller discusses the processes employed in ceramic manufacture and their impact upon the potters’ and the archaeologists’ classifications of type and form variation.

6

It should be noted here that we believe we have been conservative in establishing OSJ type and form variants and believe that further archaeological material is required to validate and discuss the existence of a more complex Type/Form repertoire.

54

The Application of Cladistics to Early Dynastic Egyptian Ceramics vessel form? Given the distinct fabric exhibited by LSJ compared to OSJ (Köhler pers. comm. 2009) this is a distinct possibility. If so, what then is the origin of the LSJ? It is also important to note that these vessels are mostly clustered within three tombs. It may be possible that we are therefore seeing evidence of specific workshop production or the work of a specific potter. Although these questions cannot be answered at present, it does suggest that cladistics can potentially identify anomalies within artefact typologies and aid in the identification of regional variation.

element of time is still implied from the base of the cladogram towards the top, but no specific length of time is indicated. Although the stratigraphic range of each OSJ and LSJ is relatively well constrained, this information was not included as a character in this analysis. Therefore, the robustness of the strict consensus tree can be further tested by attempting to correlate the first and last appearance datum of OSJ and LSJ, tomb assemblages, date group assemblages (Köhler 2004) and association of Types with their surrounding context.

Assessing Cladogram Robustness The CI for the single most parsimonious cladogram (Figure 6) was 0.65 indicating a fairly high level of homology. Sanderson & Donoghue (1989) and Hauser & Boyajian (1997) have demonstrated that as the number of taxa and characters included in a cladistic analysis increase, the CI is reduced. Therefore the CI cannot be simply compared between different studies. The regression equation provided by Sanderson & Donoghue (1989) indicates that for eight taxa (as in this analysis), a CI of 0.73 is expected. This slight disparity can be explained by each OSJ in our dataset possessing several character states for some characters such as rim type and base shape (Table 1). The RI of 0.68 for the cladogram presented in Figure 6 falls within the range (and above the mean) of the RI values obtained by Collard et al. (2006) for their biological and cultural based datasets. Based on the results of Collard et al. (2006), an RI of 0.68 for our dataset indicates phylogenetic, rather than ethnogenetic, processes are responsible for the observed variation in OSJ.

Figure 7 Single cladogram produced by cladistic analysis  anchored to the proposed chronological timeframe.  Type 1 OSJ (the outgroup) are the earliest OSJ included in this analysis which first appear during the Naqada IIIA/B period (Köhler 1998; Kroeper & Wildung 2000; Köhler & Smythe 2004). The Type 2 OSJ first appear during Naqada IIIB/C (Köhler & Smythe 2004), while Type 3 OSJ commence during Naqada IIIC/D. Both Type 2 and Type 3 can occur concurrently with the Type 4 OSJ which seems to first appear no earlier than the mid 2nd Dynasty or Naqada IIID (Köhler 2004; Köhler & Smythe 2004; pers. comm. Köhler 2009; observations by AH) (Figure 7). Given that these vessels occur concurrently and often in the same archaeological assemblages, it is possible that this results from a different function of each vessel (although commonly called ‘beer jars’, archaeological evidence remains inconclusive as to their exact function). Further archaeological evidence is required to investigate this and at this stage we do not have enough data to determine the exact evolutionary developments illustrated here. The Type 5 OSJ is likely to emerge shortly after the Type 4 OSJ, although based on the archaeology it has been observed that in its early stages of development it is contemporaneous with the Type 4 OSJ. Again the possibility of a distinct form function arises. The Type 4 OSJ continues well into the Old Kingdom and beyond and varies little in form over a long chronological period. At present it seems that the Type 5 OSJ commences with a slowly emerging collar

The bootstrap support values indicate the percentage of times that a particular clade appears in a number of cladograms (in this case 10,000) constructed from randomly resampled versions of the character matrix presented in Table 3. The high bootstrap support values obtained here (Table 4) shows that each clade is supported by many characters and therefore remains relatively immune to the effects of random resampling. The bootstrap support values indicate that a strong phylogenetic signal occurs in the dataset. Chronological Timeframe Unlike a traditional typological sequence that illustrates how one ceramic form evolves into another over time (i.e. a phylogenetic tree), cladograms do not show this type of information. For instance, the cladogram in Figure 6 does not say that Type 4, Form 1 OSJ evolved from Type 4, Form 2 OSJ. Instead, the cladogram indicates that these OSJ forms share a common ancestor that was neither a Type 1 nor Type 2 OSJ.8 Despite this difference, an 8 Although this is not supported by the archaeological evidence: there is much evidence in the archaeology for the development of Type 4 OSJ from Type 2 and 3 OSJ.

55

AMBER HOOD and JAMES VALENTINE archaeology, we look forward to the future possibilities of its application and indeed of its potential impact upon the study of Early Dynastic ceramics.

and evolves into the more distinctive ledged collar in the early Old Kingdom (i.e. Raue 1999). However, as yet, the archaeological evidence does not seem to indicate that Type 5 OSJ were long-lasting in the ceramic assemblage, rather they were eclipsed by the earlier Type 4 OSJ and disappeared shortly after their initial occurrence.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Christiana Köhler generously made available the unpublished Helwan Operation 4, Tombs 1-50 data without which this study would not have been possible, and also made several valuable suggestions and comments on this work.

In summary, although our cladogram can in many instances be successfully correlated with the existing preliminary stratigraphic and chronological information for OSJ (here presented in Figure 7) observations resulting from both cladistic analysis and archaeological evidence illustrate the need for future work to be carried out on this dataset, in which cladistics has the potential to play a vital role.

This manuscript has benefited greatly from the constructive criticisms made by an anonymous reviewer.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

CONCLUSIONS

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These results indicate that cladistics has the potential to be a fruitful and insightful avenue of enquiry into Egyptian archaeology. Results here clearly illustrate that as a method designed to trace evolutionary development, cladistics can be used as a tool to confirm and refine existing typologies. We have seen this demonstrated herein, with cladistics supporting preliminary archaeological assessment. Cladistics can also be used to establish new typological sequences of material culture, which archaeological assessment on its own may overlook and it can also be used as an independent method for providing a more refined assessment of morphological variation within a ceramic assemblage and shed light on the possibility of new ceramic forms. Since cladistics does not in itself provide or include a chronological assessment of a data set, the resulting cladogram must be anchored to a chronological sequence through observation of the stratigraphic and archaeological record. This therefore promotes cladistics as another tool that can be used for examining chronological implications of this dataset.

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Furthermore, cladistics is also a technique that is easily repeatable and can be modified to allow an ever increasing dataset to be subjected to examination. Already with the large amount of data available for ceramic vessels other than OSJ present in the Helwan Operation 4, Tombs 1-50 data, the scope of this project is set to increase substantially. It will of course increase exponentially with the quantity of data available over time. However, this technique is by no means limited to examination of material from the late Naqada III ceramic assemblage. Cladistics can lend itself to the study of other material culture groups over the entire span of Egyptian history and prehistory.

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Searching for an Oasis Identity: Dakhleh Oasis in the Third Intermediate Period Caroline Hubschmann  

  Figure 1 Map of Egypt, including the Western Desert (after Gosline 1990, Map A). A variety of textual and pictorial sources demonstrate that the inhabitants of Dakhleh Oasis were considered different from the people who lived in the Nile Valley. In the Third Intermediate Period, texts from Dakhleh Oasis also demonstrate the presence of a recognised Libyan population, the Shamin. The archaeological profile of this oasis, however, displays nothing that is identifiable as non-Egyptian. This paper discusses why such an evidentiary inconsistency exists by examining contextual issues that contribute to the manifestation of identity in the archaeological record. Current theories on the recognition of ancient identities are adapted to what is known of Dakhleh Oasis to demonstrate that the lack of non-Egyptian material culture does not necessarily equate to a population in Dakhleh Oasis that is homogeneous with the Nile Valley.

EGYPTIAN IDENTITY AND THE NILE VALLEY The community of ancient Egypt comprised peoples who shared a common language and culture, who were ruled by a divine royal lineage and who occupied rigidlydefined territories centred around the Nile Valley and Delta regions (Kemp 2006, 20). The Egyptians defined these ‘black lands’ of Kmt by the fertile soils of the Nile floodplains and they contrasted both the dSrt, the red desert that flanked them, and x3st, the hills and mountains beyond (Gardiner 1950, 562, 569, 584; Sethe 1920). When written with a three-hill determinative, the term x3st was also used to denote foreign lands. A recognised Egyptian identity was not based solely on ethnic homogeneity, but an individual’s adaptiveness to an Egyptian way of life and the degree to which they

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Figure 2 Map of Dakhleh Oasis

 

seneb, Pwimre and Usir, all of which date to the New Kingdom (Giddy 1980, 121-122; 1987, 70; Newberry 1900, 35). The peoples who brought tribute from the oases were shown as different from the Egyptians and other subjugated groups by the manner of their dishevelled and discoloured hair, unusual eyes and distinct, animal skin-like clothing. A clear oasis-type is on display. For example, figures from Tomb 131 of User have a kilt made of animal skin that is cut away from the front with a long white flap and a long tail falling down the back leg (Figures 3 and 4; Giddy 1980, 124). The tomb of Huryw from the reign of Amunhotep III or IV is also particularly interesting; it has a scene showing what is described as “women who were brought from the oasis for the raising of the Djed-pillar” (Fakhry 1943, 483, pl. XLVIb; Giddy 1987, 81). Their depiction, while not exceptional, is nonetheless remarkable, for the dancing women were shown with close-fitting caps, necklaces, double-layered skirts and bare chests crossed by two straps held at the waist. This iconography is particularly significant for it recalls the Dynasty 26 representations of Taneferbast and Bastetirdis in the tomb of Tjaty in Bahariya Oasis (Figures 5 and 6; Fakhry 1942, 127, fig. 97, 130, fig. 101; Porter and Moss 1952, 303) and may be indicative of consistent oasis-dweller depictions. The function of the dancing women within the ceremonies is not known but they were purposely identified as being from a region apart from Egypt. Their novelty was due to their origin, their appearance or perhaps even their particular dancing style (Fakhry 1943, 483; Giddy 1987, 80-81).

were willing to participate in society (Assmann 1996, 80). Non-Egyptians were those who, by ancient Egyptian standards, lived outside Kmt and did not accept the social, cultural and religious ideologies of traditionally-defined Egyptian society (Panagiotopoulos 2005, 403).

IDENTITY IN DAKHLEH OASIS The Western Desert of Egypt is approximately 681,000 km2 of arid, inhospitable desert (Figure 1). Permanent habitation in this region is possible only in the oasis depressions, which encompass thousands of square kilometres and can dip 100 m below the surrounding desert plateau (Ball 1939, 9-10). Dakhleh Oasis, positioned approximately 800 km south-south-west of Cairo and measuring 60 km east-west and 25 km northsouth, has a total area of approximately 2000 km2 (Mills 1979, 166, Figure 2). The Distinctiveness of the Oasis-dwellers The material culture of Dakhleh Oasis, as understood from the excavation of temple, settlement and cemetery sites, is homogeneous with that of the Nile Valley, displaying nothing identifiably non-Egyptian (Hope 2001, 29). Yet Egyptian textual and pictorial data present the oases of the Western Desert as foreign regions and the people who lived within them as different from the inhabitants of the Nile Valley. This is most readily exemplified by their depiction in the Theban private tombs of Rekhmire, Senemirh, Intef, Ineni, Menkheperre-

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  known as the Maunier Stela, is likely to have originated from the Temple of Amun at Karnak and was probably produced during the Twenty-fifth regnal year of Pinodjem I (von Beckerath 1968, 7, ln. 12) who assumed rule in Thebes towards the end of the reign of Smendes I in Dynasty 21 (Jansen-Winkeln 2006, 224; Kitchen 1986, 258-259). It documents the arrival in Thebes of the High Priest of Amun Menkheperre, and a series of subsequent events (von Beckerath 1968, 13, lns 15-16). Of interest to this discussion are comments concerning people who had been forcibly sent to “the oasis, where they are banished” (von Beckerath 1968, 12, ln. 11). The text details that the God Amun made a decree: “You shall listen to my voice on this day and you shall relent toward the servants, who you have banished to the oasis, and they shall be bought back to Egypt” (von Beckerath 1968, 13, lns 15-16). It is not apparent to which oasis, or oases, the text refers but the southern oases of Dakhleh and Kharga are likely candidates due to their proximity to Thebes (Kaper 1992, 119-122). In documenting that unwanted peoples were banished, this text indicates that the oases were clearly delineated as undesirable places that were located, geographically and socially, outside the traditional boundaries of Egypt.

 

Figure 3 Oasis‐dweller in Tomb 131 at Thebes, register 5  (after Giddy 1980, Fig. 1).

The second document is Papyrus Pushkin 127, also known as the Tale of Woe. It is a fictional narrative in the form of a letter written by a man named Wermai to his friend Usimarenakhte and is dated to Dynasty 21 of the Third Intermediate Period, circa 1000 BCE (Caminos 1977, 1-2, 78). The Tale of Woe is a lamentation made by Wermai about his unfair exile from his city and dispossession of all his belongings (Caminos 1977, 7071, lns 2.5-2.11). Wermai describes travelling throughout Egypt and west of the Nile Valley including the southern oases (Caminos 1977, 71, lns 2.12-3.4). In the text the oasis-dwellers appear devoid of kindness and empathy in what may be a demonstration of the lower standing afforded the people who inhabited regions outside Egypt (Loprieno 2003, 47-49). The Banishment Stela (von Beckerath 1968, 13, lns 15-16) demonstrates that the oases were once considered undesirable places for habitation by people of the Nile Valley, while the Tale of Woe (Caminos 1977, 71-72, lns 3.5-5.6) reveals that although the southern oases were under the control of the Nile Valley administration early in the Third Intermediate Period, the region was perceived as decidedly unpleasant and the inhabitants disagreeable in temperament.

 

Figure 4  Oasis‐dweller in Tomb 131 at Thebes, register 5  (after Giddy 1980, Fig. 1). Panagiotopoulos (2005, 388) stresses that these scenes were created, not as graphic representations of historical reality, but as decorative works of art. It is clear, however, that there was a desire to emphasise the distinctiveness and otherness of the oasis inhabitants. Indeed, their appearance may have been exaggerated or even stereotyped to accentuate this difference. The people of the oases and all non-Egyptians functioned to demonstrate Egyptian superiority over all who were not of the Nile Valley (Giddy 1987, 76) and their depiction within these scenes as exotic subordinates was a way to signify their inferiority and lowly status in the hierarchical ideology of the Egyptian worldview.

                                                                                                 Oasis. I annexed them to Upper Egypt. I drove out the re[bellious (?btkw?)]…” (Fischer 1964, 114). Little remains of the text and it is difficult to determine its context but the document does demonstrate that the oasis needed to be bought under Egyptian rule, either because the region was no longer administered by the Nile Valley, likely as a consequence of rebellion, or possibly because control over the region was practically and ideologically necessary for a functioning and powerful central regime. In the Stela of Ikudidi it is revealed that Ikudidi travelled “to the land of the oasis-dwellers” (von Schäfer 1905, 124). Considering the trip likely originated at Abydos or Thebes, this region was most likely the southern oases of Kharga and Dakhleh (Limme 1973, 44 & no. 23; Simpson 1974, 6, 13; Schäfer 1905, 126127). This is the earliest known reference to oasis-dwellers on a document from the Nile Valley and it is significant that the region is categorised by the specifically-differentiated people who lived there rather than its geography only.

Textual sources reinforce this difference and two documents in particular, the Banishment Stela and the Tale of Woe, depict the oases and their inhabitants in a decidedly negative light.1 The Banishment Stela, also

                                                             1

  The Stela of Ikudidi, dated to Year 34 of the reign of Senwosret I (Schäfer 1905), and the Royal Ballas Inscription which is thought to have been created early in the reign of the Nebhetepre Montuhotep II (Callender 2000, 151; Fischer 1964, 105-106), are noteworthy even though they were written during the Middle Kingdom. The earlier text contains the following fragmentary inscription: “… Wawat and the

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CAROLINE HUBSCHMANN   the reign of Seti II, and the Karnak Inscription of Merenptah, allows for the presence of Libyans in an oasis, likely Bahariya, in the New Kingdom (Gardiner 1937, 55, ln. vs. B.1; Manassa 2003, VI, 23, lns 13-14). Meshwesh, Libu and peoples identified as ‘desertdwellers’ are also known from the latter reigns of Dynasty 20, preserved in the diary entries of the necropolis journals of Thebes (Haring 1992; Černý 1975). These accounts indicate that the presence of these peoples caused multiple interruptions to the tombbuilding activities and, although nothing was recorded of their motivations, it is a likely hypothesis that they desired food, booty or perhaps even permanent settlement in the Nile Valley. The scope of the diary entries demonstrates that these incursions were very problematic and possibly conducted by strong non-Egyptian forces. Several entries also record that the Theban workers were forewarned of danger, demonstrating the likelihood that some attacks originated from the lower Nile Valley (Haring 1992, 73). It must be noted, however, that Thebes’ proximity to Dakhleh and Kharga (Giddy 1987, 6, Map II) means that the southern oases cannot be precluded as a possible origin for some of the incursions.

 

Figure 5 Taneferbast and a male child in the tomb of  Tjaty, Bahariya Oasis (after Fakhry 1940, 861, Fig. 93). 

  Libyans in Dakhleh Oasis In the Third Intermediate Period, texts from the oasis also indicate the presence of Libyans in Dakhleh Oasis. In pharaonic Egypt, peoples who inhabited regions to the west of the Nile Valley and the Delta are identified in classical and ancient Egyptian documentation. Modern scholarship commonly labels these peoples as ‘Libyan’, a word derived from the ancient Egyptian name for one of several specifically-identified groups, the Libu. As distinct from the sedentary oasis-dwellers who lived in a region controlled by Egypt, Libyans were nomadic or semi-nomadic (Hounsell 2002, 45-54) and presented in Egyptian sources as different by manner of their dress, geographic origins, social organisation and language (O’Connor 1990). The most significant written documents from Dakhleh Oasis that date to the Third Intermediate Period are the Greater Dakhleh Stela (Gardiner 1933; Ritner 2009; Spiegelberg 1899), the Smaller Dakhleh Stela (Janssen 1968) and the Amhida Stela of Takelot III (Kaper and Demarée 2005). The Smaller Dakhleh Stela and the Amhida Stela of Takelot III make reference to a man named Esdhuti, a Libyan chief of the Shamin tribe. This group is known only in sources from Dakhleh Oasis and Esdhuti is depicted in the traditional manner of a Libyan of high status, with an upright feather upon his head (Kaper and Demarée 2005, 35). The Greater Dakhleh Stela also provides a list of un-Egyptian names and military titles that are likely to refer to peoples with Libyan origins or affinities (Gardiner 1933, 21-22 & nos 1-3, 17; Ritner 2009, 177, lns 17-18).

Figure 6 Taneferbast and daughter Bastetirdis in the  tomb of Tjaty, Bahariya Oasis (after Fakhry 1942, 130,  Fig. 101).

ANCIENT SOCIETIES AND THE RECOGNITION OF IDENTITY As identity is sustained and reproduced as part of social processes, the pursuit of ancient identities as can be understood from material remains is not merely a facet of archaeological inquiry but an essential contribution to the overall purpose of archaeological enterprise. An appropriate and concise definition is provided by DiazAndreu and Lucy (2005, 1): “identity will be understood as individuals’ identification with broader groups on the

Documentation from the Nile Valley such as Papyrus Anastasi IV, a literary text from Memphis that is dated to

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Searching for an Oasis Identity: Dakhleh Oasis in the Third Intermediate Period 

  differed from what was spoken in the Nile Valley, if indeed there was a difference, is extremely difficult. Oasis texts such as the Greater Dakhleh Stela (Gardiner 1933; Ritner 2009; Spiegelberg 1899), the Smaller Dakhleh Stela (Janssen 1968), Stela JE 52478 (van Zoest et al. 2006) and the Amhida Stela of Takelot III (Kaper and Demarée 2005), are available for examination; however, it is doubtful they were created without input from the Nile Valley and it is unlikely they recorded any local language characteristics or idiosyncrasies.

basis of differences socially sanctioned as different”. Although a consensus of what cultural aspects contribute to the recognition of identity has yet to emerge, critical indicators seem to be very specific (McGuire 1982, 174). Household architecture serves as a tool through which aspects of the daily ritual and behaviour may be understood (Emberling 1997, 325). Individual and group language, presentation of dress, jewellery and hair, religious and domestic rituals, the preparation and disposal of food and the tools used to prepare it and the choice of funerary architecture are also possible indicators (Jones 1996, 68; Lucy 2005, 91-101; Meskell 2007, 24-25; Tyson Smith 2003, 7). Identity differentiation may also be maintained by territorial, behavioural and/or ideological markers (Burgess 1978, 270; Eriksen 1991, 127). Despite the possibility that these categories do help to recognise identity, its dynamic and multifarious nature means that any attempt to define an ancient identity requires a situation-specific and contextual understanding of the situation.

The non-elite oasis occupants not represented in the documentation may have spoken an oasis dialect; however, confirmation of the language(s) spoken by the oasis-dwellers is not possible from these texts because they were of the elite administration and not necessarily a reflection of contemporary oasis speech. While language has the potential to demonstrate and perhaps even differentiate the identity of the oasis-dwellers and the inhabitants of the Nile Valley, the Egyptian sources that provide our evidence have no way of preserving such distinctions. It is possible that the ability to speak the language spoken by the elite of the oases, whether this was Egyptian or a regional dialect, may have been a strong identifier for acceptance within such a social group. The economic, political and social advantages afforded to those who spoke this language could even have influenced its use in Dakhleh Oasis.

The question is: how do we reconcile this apparent contradiction between the Egyptian textual sources, which document a Libyan presence and demonstrate a clear oasis-dweller ‘type’, and the archaeological source material that reveals nothing different from the Nile Valley? To understand the nature of the people who inhabited Dakhleh Oasis in the Third Intermediate Period methodology regarding the recognition of ancient identities in the archaeological record is applied it to what is known of Dakhleh Oasis during this time. This includes a discussion of the broad nature of identity recognition and, specific to this topic, factors which may contribute to the archaeological profile of the oasisdwellers.

With regard to the ancient Libyans, they were pre-literate and knowledge of their language is wholly dependent on classical and Egyptian textual sources. References to them as ‘foreign speakers who presided over Libya’ are known as early as the Pyramid Texts (Faulkner 1969, §455-456) and the policy to force the subjugated Libyans of the Ramesside wars to learn the Egyptian language (Kitchen 1986, 245 & no. 10, §206; 1990, 21) demonstrates that this linguistic distinction continued into the New Kingdom; a situation expected in groups that were culturally and geographically distinct. The occurrence of the non-Egyptian words ms and mAtwAr in relation to Weyheset and the soldiers with non-Egyptian names in the Greater Dakhleh Stela (Gardiner 1933, 27 & no. 17; Ritner 2009, 177, lns 17-18 & no. 17) also shows the preservation into the Third Intermediate Period of what are most likely Libyan words. They are, however, specific military titles used in conjunction with the names of Libyan individuals; they were not appropriated into the Egyptian language for general use. Indeed, the only Libyan words found in Egyptian texts are ethnic designations (Leahy 1985, 60). Although in Dynasty 22 when the Greater Dakhleh Stela was written the use of a Libyan name is not necessarily indicative of a Libyan identity, the presence of names that are clearly distinguishable as Libyan and Egyptian demonstrates a deliberate distinction between different members of the oasis community.

A NON-EGYPTIAN IDENTITY IN DAKHLEH OASIS The definition and recognition of an identity from the archaeological record is a challenging task even when aided by textual data. Indeed, the search for an oasite identity is problematic as the relevant indicators are not necessarily those that produce the most identifiable archaeological remains. For this examination of the possible indicators of difference between the oasis and Nile Valley populations and the possible identification of Libyan identifiers, namely foodways, language and funerary behaviours, are investigated, as are the contextual circumstances that may have resulted in the absence of non-Egyptian indicators. The aim is to demonstrate the approaches that can be used to attempt to recognise identity as well as specific practical and methodological issues that arise with the search for distinctively non-Egyptian or even oasite activity in Dakhleh Oasis. Recognising Identity: Language

Recognising Identity: Funerary Ritual and Behaviour

As an intrinsic aspect of Egyptian identity, language can serve as an indicator of commonality as well as difference (Kemp 2006, 20-21). In Dakhleh Oasis the prospect of identifying aspects of the spoken language that may have

The presentation of an individual upon death, the death ritual and associated architecture can be one of the more

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CAROLINE HUBSCHMANN   Domestic ceramics have been recovered from sites such as Mut el-Kharab, Amhida, ‘Ain Aseel and ‘Ain el-Azizi (Hope et al. 2000, 192; Hope et al. 2006, 35-36; Marchand 1997, 5; Pyke 2005, 18-20) but, as has been noted, no non-Egyptian material has been revealed. Botanical evidence from Mut el-Kharab is under preliminary investigation by Dr Thanheiser from the Department of Systematic and Evolutionary Biology of the University Vienna and in recent years she has been assisted by Amy Vella of Monash University. The 200102 excavations garnered samples that revealed cereals in the form of rice, barley and wheat, as well as pulses, flax and fruits including grapes, olives, dom-palms and nuts (Mills 2002, 15). The organic material of the 2008 season is mostly burnt and desiccated and difficult to examine comprehensively but it has been identified as predominantly wheat-based (A. Vella, pers. comm. 2008). Analysis of the archaeobotanical samples from Area 4.1, the location of the pharaonic temple dedicated to Thoth at Amhida, has also revealed the remains of wheat, barley, grape, olive tree, date palm, fig, lentil, flax, cotton, safflower, coriander, rosemary and a variety of grass weeds (Bagnall 2006, 17).

powerful indicators of identity, functioning as tools of differentiation through the maintenance of ancestral and familial ties (Emberling 1997, 325; Tyson Smith 2003, 7, 38, 40). These practices can be direct indicators of belief and a physical and deliberate expression of identity, which can differ markedly between different groups. The burials in Dakhleh Oasis are consistent with the contemporary funerary customs of the Nile Valley (Baud 1997, 27). Excepting the cemeteries of Qal‘a ed-Dabba and ‘Ain Tirghi, from which over 50 graves and tombs from multiple periods have been excavated, and Tell Marqula with approximately 25 excavated burials (Frey 1986; Mills 1983, 128-129; Yamani 2002), the pharaonic cemeteries of Dakhleh Oasis have not been systematically examined or excavated to a significant degree (Mills 1980, 266; 1981, 183). While there is a widespread selection of inhumations from a number of cemeteries, the number of graves and tombs excavated as a proportion of the total burials within a cemetery is generally extremely small. Although this is common archaeological practice it nevertheless reduces the likelihood of finding or identifying any non-Egyptian artefact, practice or enclave.

There is nothing unusual in these remains that would warrant the identification of a non-Egyptian food pattern. Such recognition could only occur if the floral and faunal food remains and the culinary tools and cooking vessels are demonstrably different from those of the Nile Valley, a task necessitated by a concerted research programme designed to obtain as much foodways data as possible for the express purpose of examining culinary practice. Nevertheless it may be possible to identify differences in the quantities and types of food consumed by the oasisdwellers and the Nile Valley inhabitants, for example less fish in the diet of the former. Local environmental pressures were more likely a contributing factor to the foodways of the oasis than specific or traditional culinary provisions. Indeed, with regard to the Libyan inhabitants, the adoption of a sedentary lifestyle in the oasis may have involved an adaptation to behaviours and artefacts best suited to life in this environment and the loss of foods and culinary tools required for a nomadic or seminomadic lifestyle. Unlike textual sources and elite burial remains, the manner of food preparation is less likely to be compromised by any deliberate agenda to distort the depiction of an identity and if it is the intent of the archaeologist to determine specific foodways, there is the real potential to reveal differences that may be seen in the preferred manner of food preparation and consumption.

The absence of non-Egyptian burial indicators in Dakhleh Oasis would be indicative of a population consistent with the Nile Valley if these peoples held a monopoly on the oasis funerary behaviours. It is possible, however, that the oasis-dwellers practiced Nile Valley rituals to such a degree that any non-Egyptian indicators were indistinguishable in the archaeological record. Particular social circumstances can result in the alteration or loss of identity indicators (Cordell and Yannie 1991, 107) and the adoption of Nile Valley burial practices may have functioned, in some advantageous manner, as a method of projecting a desired status, be it economic, political or cultural (Tyson Smith 2003, 156, 197). The wealthy and ruling elite effectively monopolised the use of monumental inscriptions and were the people with the means to create monuments and artefacts of preservable quality (Baines 1996, 353, 358; Tyson Smith 2003, 156). Those who were part of a formal cemetery may reflect the more wealthy members of the oasis population and if a non-Egyptian were to be part of this economic elite, a requirement of that membership may have been to display cultural practices consistent with the Nile Valley. Recognising Identity: Foodways Aspects of food preparation, culinary equipment, the type of food eaten and its quality can be clear social markers for group identification as well as indicators of ancestry and wealth (Bresciani 1997, 226; Hamilakis 1999; Lucy 2005, 105; Tyson Smith 2003, 43-52, 189-193). Ancient food production, consumption and disposal, or ‘foodways’, is determined through the examination of floral and animal remains, food residue and the tools and containers employed during food use in both ritual and domestic settings (Tyson Smith 2003, 50, 52-53).

Recognising Identity: Libyan Acculturation to the Oasis Acculturation to the behaviours and practices that occurred in the oases may be the reason for the lack of Libyan archaeological identifiers in Dakhleh. Egyptianised foreigners had the ability to be assimilated into Egyptian society and the adoption of local religious and burial practices, behaviours, language and material culture would see the disappearance of indicators of a non-Egyptian presence. This acculturation could have occurred over generations and may have been enforced

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Searching for an Oasis Identity: Dakhleh Oasis in the Third Intermediate Period 

  Libyans because the very systems that contribute to identity – language, cultural and funerary traditions – are often unrecognisable in the archaeological record.

but the motivation to voluntarily acculturate, whether on an individual or collective level, would have resulted from the perception that to do so would be considered beneficial or advantageous.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Non-Egyptians living in Egypt were encouraged to adopt the Egyptian language, beliefs and behaviours (Kemp 1997, 128; 2006, 31; Kitchen 1986, 245 & no. 10, §206; 1990, 21; Johnson 1999, 231 & no. 10). It cannot be assumed, however, that contact between groups or even the incorporation of one group into the social or geographic sphere of another automatically resulted in acculturation (Jones 1996, 71). Simply attributing ‘archaeologically invisible’ people as being acculturated fails to consider the possibility of preservation bias and the nature of the elite monopoly over textual and pictorial resources. The lack of material remains does not signify acculturation of Libyans in Dakhleh Oasis, for the very items that contributed to Libyan distinctiveness everyday clothes and body ornamentation (as distinct from funerary apparel), religious practices, eating habits and behaviours - may not have been readily preserved in the archaeological record. Hounsell’s (2002, 223) study of Marmarica in the Late Bronze Age has revealed no archaeological evidence of indigenous occupation, leading to the conclusion that ordinary field survey was not useful for the identification of Libyan indicators. Indeed, it is Hounsell’s’ belief that nomadic Libyans are ‘archaeologically at least, near invisible’.

Assmann, J. 1996. ‘Kulturelle und Literarische Texte’. In Ancient Egyptian Literature: History and Forms, edited by Loprieno, A. Probleme der Ägyptologie 10. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 59-82. Bagnall, R. S. 2006.Excavations at Amheida, 2006. Director's Report. Accessed 23 June 2006. Available from: http://www.mcah.columbia.edu/amheida/html/2006 _field_reports/%202006_report.html. Baines, J. 1996. ‘Contextualizing Egyptian Representations of Society and Ethnicity’. In The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century. The William Foxwell Albright Centennial Conference, edited by Cooper, J. S; Schwartz, G. M. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 339-384. Ball, J. 1939. Contributions to the Geography of Egypt. Cairo: Survey and Mines Department. Baud, M. 1997. ‘Balat/‘Ayn-Asîl, Oasis de Dakhla. La Ville de la Deuxième Période Intermediaire’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 97:19-34.

CONCLUSIONS

Bresciani, E. 1997. ‘Foreigners’. In The Egyptians, edited by Donadoni, S. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 221-253.

The dynamic and situational nature of identity means that cultural units rarely correlate directly to recognisable boundaries (Jones 1996, 68) and the reliance on a straightforward interpretation of the textual and archaeological evidence can often mask the recognition of past identities whose complexity and flexibility are rarely easily identified (Insoll 2007, 13-14; Tyson Smith 2003, 101). The expression of identity in the archaeological record could be manifested in a myriad of ways (Tyson Smith 2003, 32) and several factors make the identification of non-Egyptian foodways, language and funerary behaviours difficult. The most important of these concern the lack of complete cemetery excavation, the unavoidable reliance on classical and Egyptian texts that have the potential to present distorted or biased views of both Libyans and oasis-dwellers and, lastly, the possibility that status and wealth contributed to the manifestation of wholly Egyptian language and funerary behaviours in the oasis.

Burgess, E. M. 1978. ‘The Resurgence of Ethnicity: Myth or Reality?’. Ethnic and Racial Studies 1(3): 265-285. Callender, G. 2000. ‘The Middle Kingdom Renaissance (c. 2055-1650 BC)’. In The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Shaw, I. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 148-183. Caminos, R. A. 1977. A Tale of Woe. From a Hieratic Papyrus in the A.S. Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow. Oxford: Griffith Institute. Černý, J. 1975. ‘Egypt: From the Death of Ramesses III to the end of the Twenty-first Dynasty’. In The Cambridge Ancient History. Volume II, Part II: Middle East and the Aegean, edited by Edwards, I. E. S; Gadd, C. J; Hammond M. G. L; Sollberger, E. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 606-657.

Egyptian ideological influence on the use and representation of language, burial and religious evidence is unavoidable but not prohibitive, for a contextual analysis of the social, political, religious and economic situation will allow for an understanding of the factors that contribute to ancient identities. The material culture of the oases, while apparently homogeneous with that of the Nile Valley, does not necessarily contradict the Egyptian textual and pictorial sources that demonstrate the perception of difference and the presence of Shamin

Cordell, L. S; Yannie, V. L. 1991. ‘Ethnicity, Ethnogenesis, and the Individual: A Processual Approach Toward Dialogue’. In Processual and Postprocessual Archaeologies: Multiple Ways of Knowing the Past, edited by Preucel, R. W. Chicago: Southern Illinois University, 96-107. Diaz-Andreu, M; Lucy, S. 2005. ‘Introduction’. In The Archaeology of Identity. Approaches to Gender, Age,

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CAROLINE HUBSCHMANN   Haring, B. 1992. ‘Libyans in the Late Twentieth Dynasty’. In Village Voices. Proceedings of the Symposium: “Texts from Deir el-Medîna and their interpretation”, edited by Demarée, R. J; Egberts, A. Leiden: Leiden University, 71-80.

Status, Ethnicity and Religion, edited by Diaz-Andreu, M; Lucy, S; Edwards, N. New York: Routledge, 1-12. Emberling, G. 1997. ‘Ethnicity in Complex Societies: Archaeological Perspectives’. Journal of Archaeological Research 5(4): 295-344.

Hope, C. A. 2001. ‘Egypt and Libya: The excavations at Mut el-Kharab in Egypt’s Dakhleh Oasis’. The Artefact 24: 29-46.

Eriksen, T. H. 1991.‘The Cultural Contexts of Ethnic Differences’. Man 26: 127-144.

Hope, C. A; Bowen, G. E; Dolling, W; Hubschmann, C; Kucera, P; Long, R; Stevens, A. 2006. ‘Report on the Excavations at Ismant el-Kharab and Mut el-Kharab in 2006’. Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 17: 23-67.

Fakhry, A. 1940. ‘Bahria and Farafra Oases. Third Preliminary Report on the New Discoveries’. Annales du Service des Antiquitiés de l’Égypte 40: 855-896. Fakhry, A. 1942. Bahria Oasis I. Service des Antiquités de l’Égypte. Cairo: Government Press.

Hope, C. A; Eccleston, M. A; Kaper, O. E; Marchand, S; Darnell, D. 2000. ‘Kegs and Flasks from Dakhleh Oasis’. Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 6: 189-234.

Fakhry, A. 1943. ‘A Note on the Tomb of Kheruef at Thebes’. Annales du Service de l’Antiquities de l’Égypte 42: 447-508. Faulkner, R. O. 1969. The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts I. Oxford: Aris & Phillips.

Hounsell, D. 2002. The Occupation of Marmarica in the Late Bronze Age: An Archaeological and Ethnographical Study. Ph.D. thesis. Liverpool: University of Liverpool.

Fischer, H. G. 1964. Inscriptions from the Coptite Nome Dynasties VI-XI. Analectica Orientalia 40. Rome: Pontificium Insitutum Biblicum.

Insoll, T. 2007. ‘Introduction. Configuring Identities in Archaeology’. In Archaeology of Identities. A reader, edited by Insoll, T. London: Routledge, 1-18.

Frey, R. 1986. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project. Interim Report on Excavations at the ‘Ein Tirghi Cemetery’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 16:92-102.

Jansen-Winkeln, K. 2006. ‘Relative Chronology of Dynasty 21’. In Ancient Egyptian Chronology, edited by Hornung, E; Krauss. R; Warburton, D. A. Handbook of Oriental Studies; The Near and Middle East 83. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 218-233.

Gardiner, A. H. 1933. ‘The Dakhleh Stela’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 19: 19-30.

Janssen, J. J. 1968. ‘The Smaller Dakhleh Stela’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 54: 165-172.

Gardiner, A. H. 1937. Late Egyptian Miscellanies. Bibliotheca Aegyptiaca VII. Brussels: Fondation Égyptologique Rein Élisabeth.

Johnson, J. H. 1999. ‘Ethnic Considerations in Persian Period Egypt’. In Gold of Praise: Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honor of Edward F. Wente, edited by Teeter, E; Larson, J. A. Chicago: University of Chicago, 211-222.

Gardiner, A. H. 1950. Egyptian Grammar: being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs. 2nd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Jones, S. 1996. ‘Discourses of Identity in the Interpretation of the Past’. In Cultural Identity and Archaeology, edited by Graves-Brown, P; Jones, C; Gamble, C. London: Routledge, 62-80.

Giddy, L. L. 1980. ‘Some Exports from the Oasis of the Libyan Desert into the Nile Valley - Tomb 131 at Thebes’. Mémoires publiés par les Membres de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 104: 119-125.

Kaper, O. E. 1992. ‘Egyptian Toponyms of Dakhleh Oasis’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 92: 117-132.

Giddy, L. L. 1987. Egyptian Oases. Bahariya, Dakhla, Farafra and Kharga During Pharaonic Times. Warminster: Aris and Phillips Ltd.

Kaper, O. E; Demarée, R. J. 2005. ‘Donation Stela in the Name of Takeloth III from Amheida, Dakhleh Oasis’. Jaabericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap Ex Oriente Lux 39: 19-37.

Gosline, S. L. 1990. Bahariya Oasis Expedition Season report for 1988: Part 1 Survey of Qaret Hilwah. San Antonio: Van Siclen Books. Hamilakis, Y. 1999. ‘Food Technologies/Technologies of the Body: the Social Context of Wine and Olive Oil Production and Consumption in Bronze Age Crete’. World Archaeology 35(1): 38-54.

Kemp, B. J. 1997. ‘Why Empires Rise’. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 7: 125-131. Kemp, B. J. 2006. Ancient Egypt. Anatomy of a Civilization. 2nd edn. New York: Routledge.

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  Mills, A. J. 1983. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project. Report on the Fifth Season of Survey. October, 1982 - January, 1983’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 13: 121-141.

Kitchen, K. A. 1986. The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100-650 B.C.). 2nd edn. Warminster: Aris & Phillips Ltd. Kitchen, K. A. 1990. ‘The Arrival of the Libyans in Late New Kingdom Egypt’. In Libya and Egypt c. 1300-750 BC, edited by Leahy, A. London: University of London; Society for Libyan Studies, 15-27.

Mills, A. J. 2002. Report to the Supreme Council of Antiquities on the 2001-2002 Field Season of the Dakhleh Oasis Project. Unpublished Report. Dakhleh Oasis: Dakhleh Oasis Project.

Leahy, A. 1985. ‘The Libyan Period in Egypt. An Essay in Interpretation’. Libyan Studies 16: 51-65.

Newberry, P. E. 1900. The Life of Rekhmire. Vezîr of Upper Egypt under Thutmose III and Amenhetep (circa B.C. 1471-1448) with Twenty-two plates. Westminster: Archibald Constable and Co. Ltd.

Limme, L. 1973. ‘Les Oasis de Khargeh et Dakhleh d’après les documents Égyptiens de l’Epoque Pharaonique’. Cahier de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Égyptologie de Lille 1: 39-58.

O’Connor, D. 1990. ‘The nature of the Tjemhu (Libyan) Society in the Later New Kingdom’. In Libya and Egypt c1300-750 BC, edited by Leahy, A. London: University of London; Society for Libyan Studies, 29-112.

Loprieno, A. 2003. ‘Travel and Fiction in Egyptian Literature’. In Mysterious Lands, edited by O’Connor, D; Quirke, S. London: UCL Press, 31-51.

Panagiotopoulos, D. 2005. ‘Foreigners in Egypt in the Time of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III’. In Thutmose III. A New Biography, edited by Cline, E. H; O’Connor, D. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 370-412.

Lucy, S. 2005. ‘Ethnic and Cultural Identities’. In The Archaeology of Identity. Approaches to Gender, Age, Status, Ethnicity and Religion, edited by Diaz-Andreu, M; Lucy, S; Babic, S; Edwards, N. New York: Routledge, 86-109.

Porter, B; Moss, R. 1952. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Reliefs and Paintings: VII. Nubia, the Deserts and Outside Egypt. Oxford: Griffith Institute.

Manassa, C. 2003. The Great Karnak Inscription of Merenptah: Grand Strategy in the 13th Century BC. Yale Egyptological Studies 5. New Haven: Yale Egyptological Seminar, Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations.

Pyke, G. 2005. Amheida Pottery: Preliminary Report 2005. Unpubished Report. Dakhleh Oasis: Dakhleh Oasis Project.

Marchand, S. 1997. ‘La Céramique Post-Ancien Empire de ‘Ayn Asîl (Oasis de Dakhla). Rapport de la Campagne de Janvier 1997’. Rapport Interne IFAO. À l’attention de G. Soukiassian (chief de chantier de Balat-Ayn Asîl), 114.

Ritner, R. 2009. ‘Larger Dakhleh Stela’. In The Libyan Anarchy. Documents from Egypt’s Third Intermediate Period, edited by Ritner, R. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 173-178.

McGuire, R. H. 1982. ‘The Study of Ethnicity in Historical Archaeology’. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 1: 159-178.

Sethe, K. 1920. ‘Die ägyptischen Bezeichnungen für die Oasen und ihre Bewohner’. Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 56: 44-54.

Meskell, L. 2007. ‘Archaeologies of Identity’. In The Archaeology of Identities. A reader, edited by Insoll, T. London: Routledge, 23-43.

Simpson, W. K. F. 1974. The Terrace of the Great God at Abydos: The Offering Chapels of Dynasties 12 and 13. Publications of the Pennsylvania-Yale Expedition to Egypt 5. New Haven; Philadelphia: The Peabody Museum of Natural History of Yale University; The University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania.

Mills, A. J. 1979. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project. Report on the First Season of Survey, October - December 1978’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 9: 162-185.

Spiegelberg, W. 1899. ‘Eine Stele aus der Oase Dachel’. Recueil de Travaux Relatifs à la Philologie et à l’archéologie égyptiennes et assyriennes 21: 12-21.

Mills, A. J. 1980. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project. Report on the Second Season of Survey, September - December, 1979’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 10: 251-427.

Tyson Smith, S. 2003. Wretched Kush. Ethnic Identities and Boundaries in Egypt's Nubian Empire. London: Routledge.

Mills, A. J. 1981. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project. Report on the Third Season of Survey, September-December, 1980’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 11: 175-192.

van Zoest, C; Kaper, O. E; Leemhuis, F; Elebaut, M; Demarée, R. J; Pantalacci, L; Soukiassian, G. 2006. ‘Fragmentary Stela of a Priest of Seth named Khai’.

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CAROLINE HUBSCHMANN   Treasures of the Dakhleh Oasis. An Exhibition on the Occasion of the Fifth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project. Cairo: Netherlands-Flemish Institute in Cairo, 24-25. von Beckerath, J. 1968. ‘Die ‘stele der Verbannten’ im Museum des Louvre’. Revue d’Égyptologie 20: 7-36. Schäfer, H. 1905. ‘Ein Zug nach der grossen Oase unter Sesostris I’. Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 42: 124-128. Yamani, S. 2002. ‘New Year’s Bottles from Tell Marqula (Dakhla Oasis)’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 102: 425-436.

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Ambiguous Images: The Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert Daniel James 2009, 40).1 These rock-art images were the most significant find Winkler made during his survey of the Western Desert and appeared distinct from the material he had recorded from his earlier work in the Nile Valley and Eastern Desert (Winkler 1939, 27). The basic shape of the Winkler goddess is described as female in profile, with a very simple upper body contrasted with an exaggerated lower body (Winkler 1939, 28-30; 36). Descriptions of further characteristics vary slightly from researcher to researcher, but typically include one or more of the following: a pregnant or exaggerated belly, decorated skirts or decorated lower body, exaggerated buttocks, steatopygia, exaggerated skirts, or exaggerated lower body, and breasts (see Table 1). Although most examples are considered to be in profile (Plate 3 and 5; Krzyzaniak 1987, 185; Winkler 1939, 28), there are also examples interpreted as frontal views (Plate 2). Similarly, while some examples have a featureless or residual upper body (Plate 2 and 3; Berger 2008, 137140; Kuciewicz et. al. 2007, 7-8; Winkler 1939, 28), there are also examples with this portion of the body decorated (Plate 2 and 3). Winkler goddesses appear to range in appearance from figurative forms, with clear anthropomorphic traits, to non-figurative ones that are, following Winkler (1939, 29), typically interpreted as schematised or simplified versions of the more elaborate figures (Plate 4; Berger 2008, 137-140; Krzyzaniak 1991, 63; 2001, 250; Kuciewicz et. al. 2007, 7-8).

  Figure 1 Map of Egypt showing sites mentioned in the  text (after McDonald 2009). 

  INTRODUCTION For just over seventy years, analysis and interpretation of rock-art in the Dakhleh Oasis region of the Egyptian Western Desert has been influenced by the work of the German anthropologist and specialist in the study of religious science, Dr Hans Alexander Winkler. Winkler’s observations, published in the preliminary volumes RockDrawings of Southern Upper Egypt I (Winkler 1938a) and Rock-Drawings of Southern Upper Egypt II (Winkler 1939), were based upon two seasons of rock-art recording, analysis and interpretation carried out in the winters of 1936-7 and 1937-8. These two works were ground-breaking: Winkler (1938a, 1) saw an incredible opportunity for rock-art images to play a valuable role in adding to our knowledge of the pre-historic forebears of Dynastic Egypt, with each image acting out the role of a written text which could be translated and analysed for important information.

What is striking about this series of rock-art images is that all current attempts to interpret them are based exclusively upon the conclusions made by Winkler in 1939. His concluding interpretations were that the images represent females, typically pregnant, that are representations of deities associated with fertility (Winkler 1939, 28-30). There is one variation between Winkler and those that have followed, however, with Winkler (1939, 29) ultimately proposing that these images were representations of figurines or statuettes. Amongst the literature promoting the Winkler-like interpretations, there are few observations that question the divine nature or sex of the images. These range from minor observations that Winkler goddesses are found in pairings or positions that may actually suggest some of the females are in fact males (Berger 2008 140;

The influence of Winkler’s work on current rock-art studies in the Dakhleh region is most apparent when examining a group of anthropomorphic images referred to as female figures (Colour Plates 1 – 6f (Page 161)), with varying additional descriptions such as ‘pregnant’, ‘fat’, and ‘goddesses’ (e.g. Berger 2006, 196; 2008; Ikram 2009, 75; Judd 2009, 52-53; Krzyzaniak 1987, 185; 2004, 183; Kuciewicz et. al. 2007, 7; Riemer 2006, 499-500;

                                                             1

  For further discussions see also: Krzyzaniak (1990, 96; 1991, 62; 2001, 250), Krzyzaniak and Kroeper (1991, 59), McDonald (1993, 4445). For the purposes of this paper and simplicity these shall be henceforth referred to here as Winkler goddesses.

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DANIEL JAMES analysis would reveal much about the ‘religious beliefs and social institutions’ of the Egyptian prehistoric periods (Winkler 1938a, 1).

Bergmann 2003), to an acknowledgement that the sex of the figures is generally unclear (Judd 2009, 52). In both cases the non-female explanations are swiftly dismissed: Berger (2008, 139-140) argues that any pairings that may imply a male-female dichotomy are in fact two different types of women; Judd (2009, 52) despite his admittance of the ambiguity of sex, appears to contradict it by stating that the figures have ‘clear feminine features’. Thus the general view presented in the body of published literature is that the nature of the Winkler goddesses is not up for further discussion.

In the summer of 1938, during a survey along the Ghubari road from Kharga Oasis to Dakhleh Oasis, roughly 600 kilometres southwest of Cairo and 250 kilometres due west of Luxor, Winkler first encountered his goddesses. Looking at his field notes (Winkler 1938b) we see that his initial impressions were that he had found ‘stylised women’, which is an interesting interpretation given that the first figure he encountered (Plate 1) displayed no overt sexual characteristics (Ucko and Rosenfeld 1972, 177-182; Verpoorte 2001, 92).

This paper goes beyond this current trend of acceptance to explore what a modern analysis of the rock-art can show us. I analysed a collection of published and unpublished rock-art images through a presence/absence analysis to suggest how the divine nature and sex of the Winkler goddesses could be objectively tested. The necessity of formal and replicable tests is paramount, given the prevailing trend of images interpreted as Winkler goddesses to lack any sort of explicit analysis or explanation as to why they are assumed to be representations of females, or divine beings. The continued esoteric context of the interpretation of these images is detrimental to the much needed and burgeoning rock-art research of the Dakhleh region.

Winkler 1939 Cervicek 1986; 1993 Krzyzaniak et. al. 1989 – 2004 McDonald 1993 Bergmann 2003 Huyge 2003 Kuciewicz et. al. 2005 – ongoing. Berger 2006; 2008 Riemer 2006; 2009 Ikram 2009 Judd 2009

pregnant/ pronounced belly

exaggerated buttocks/ skirt/ lower body

decorated clothing/ skirt

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Winkler (1939, 36) noted that his interpretations were heavily influenced by prehistoric figurines from Crete and the Near East, and presumably Europe, which were being interpreted as evidence for early worship of a Mother Goddess (James 1959; Ucko 1962; 1968). This interpretation would expand as Winkler progressed further along the Ghubari road and into Dakhleh Oasis, culminating in the preliminary publication from his survey which detailed his case for ‘pregnant females’ at Dakhleh (Winkler 1939). As part of his analysis, Winkler attempted to place the rock-art he recorded into a chronological framework based upon the style or manner in which the rock-art image had been made. The framework for the Western Desert was based upon the sequence he had established in the survey of the Eastern Desert (Winkler 1938a). This sequence consisted of:

breasts





Yes Yes Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes Yes

Yes

Yes

 

Table 1 Integral attributes highlighted by authors  discussing Winkler goddesses. 

BACKGROUND: WINKLER AT DAKHLEH

Autochthonous Mountain Dwellers – cattle breeders whose art is characterised by figures wearing Libyan penis sheaths and images of cattle (Winkler 1938a, 18-20). Early Nile-Valley Dwellers – art characterised by Nilotic boats (Winkler 1938a, 24-25). For the Western Desert, the ‘Early Nile-Valley’ group was replaced with an ‘Early Oasis Dwellers’ group and constituted the inhabitants of the Oases prior to Dynastic control (Winkler 1939, 27-30). Eastern Invaders – art characterised by boats ‘of a type foreign to Egypt’ (Winkler 1938a, 26). Earliest Hunters – characterised purely on aesthetics, with any ‘primitive’ imagery, defined by Winkler (1938a, 28-30) as geometrical or spiral designs, or ‘hunting scenes’ instantly ascribed to this group.

Winkler (1939, 27-31) attributed his goddesses to his ‘Early Oasis Dwellers’, a group of prehistoric indigenous inhabitants of Dakhleh Oasis who were sedentary and practiced plant-cultivation (Winkler 1939, 28). Examples of the goddesses which appeared to Winkler to be coarser or were found in association with rock-art depicting ‘primitive’ imagery, were assumed to be poor copies of the goddesses made by the ‘Earliest Hunters’ (Winkler 1939, 28; 32). Winkler (1939, 33) concluded

In 1936, the President of the Egypt Exploration Society in London, Sir Robert Mond, tasked Winkler with leading an expedition to find, survey, catalogue and analyse rockart in the Egyptian Eastern and Western Deserts. Winkler, with a strong background in contemporary Egyptian religious practices and folklore, saw the untapped potential of this material and was of the opinion that its

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Ambiguous Images: Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert

  further examples discovered beyond the limits of the Southeast Basin.

that these two groups lived contemporaneously within the Oasis, at the same time as the Gerzean/Naqada II period in the Nile Valley.

DAKHLEH POST-WINKLER In the summer of 1938, Mond and Winkler (1938c) discussed the potential of further surveys and sondages at Dakhleh to gain a better understanding of the ‘Early Oasis Dwellers’ group Winkler had discovered. Mond, however, passed away in October 1938 not long after the proposal for the additional seasons in Egypt (Newberry 1938). As a result Winkler was left without any sort of financial backing or income and was ultimately forced to return to Germany. With the outbreak of the Second World War, Winkler’s knowledge of Middle Eastern language and custom provided an opportunity for work with the German Foreign Service (Junginger 1995a, 156157). This diplomatic role was short lived, with Winkler eventually seeing combat in North Africa and in Poland (Junginger 1995b, 105-109). Winkler was shot and killed on the Eastern Front in 1944, ensuring that his 1938 and 1939 preliminary publications would be his last words on the rock-art of Dakhleh Oasis.

  Figure 2 Winkler sites at Dakhleh (after Winkler 1939). Work in the past decade, however, has revealed that Winkler goddesses can be observed at other locations outside of Dakhleh. Examples have since been found at the nearby areas of Kharga Oasis (Ikram 2009), Djedefre’s Water Mountain (DWM) (Berger 2006; 2008; Bergmann 2003; Riemer 2006; 2009) and Meri (Berger 2006; 2008; Riemer 2006; 2009), as well as at other locations within Dakhleh Oasis (Krzyzaniak 2004; Kuciewicz et. al. 2005; 2008) (see Figure 1). 2

IN WINKLER’S SHADOW

It was not until nearly fifty years after the publication of Winkler’s preliminary results that the next survey of Dakhleh rock-art was undertaken. This work began in 1984 (Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1985), with a Polish team from Poznan headed by the late Professor Lech Krzyzaniak, working as part of the petroglyph unit of the Dakhleh Oasis Project (DOP). Krzyzaniak’s rock-art research at Dakhleh was focused on data collection and answering specific research questions that unfortunately did not involve re-assessing Winkler’s work, the result of this being that the publications that ensued presented brief discussions of the activities of each survey season, without major synthesis or discussion (Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1985; Krzyzaniak 1987; 1990; 1991; Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1991; 1993; Krzyzaniak 1993; Krzyzaniak 2001; 2004). As with Winkler, Krzyzaniak’s passing in 2004 has meant that a vast wealth of unpublished material and research has been lost to us.

The reason as to why Winkler’s interpretations have persisted over the years can likely be attributed to a number of interrelated points. Although rock-art research was heavily undertaken in the Sahara from the 19th century onwards (e.g. Barth 1857-58; Rhotert 1952; Van Noten 1978; see also list of major works in Davis 1979) no further work was done at Dakhleh until Krzyzaniak’s work on the rock-art material. This resulted in Winkler’s (1939) text remaining the only publication that dealt with the rock-art of Dakhleh in any sort of systematic detail (András Zboray 2009, pers. comm.). As with the general archaeological record, the rock-art of Northern Africa has been traditionally interpreted within a cultural-history framework, where sequences, cultural units and chronology have been the primary research focus (Brentjes 1969, 41-68; Davis 1979, 59-74; Holl 2004, 1-5; Muzzolini 1996, 59-69; 2003, 44-58; Smith 1968, 1-39; 2006, 5-8; Wilcox 1984, 29-49). There is, however, a recent and ongoing trend in world-wide rockart studies to push beyond the question of chronology and cultural sequence in order to ask questions relating to the social information that is encoded within the material (e.g. Barta 2010; Hendrickx et. al. 2010; Holl 2004; Le Quellec 2008a; May and Sanz 2009). This is not to say that questions of chronology are unimportant, but they are not the only important questions to ask of rock-art.

SPATIAL CONSIDERATIONS Winkler (1939, 8; 27) originally spatially restricted the goddesses to a large depression (Winkler sites 62 – 68 in Figure 2), situated in the eastern part of Dakhleh Oasis, which has since been named the ‘Southeast Basin’, a small depression several kilometres east of the village of Teneida, and north of the road from Dakhleh to Kharga oasis (McDonald 1993, 44). Krzyzaniak and his team focused much of their work in this area, relocating all of the Winkler sites within the basin in addition to surveying and recording a number of new rock-art sites at which Winkler goddesses were found (Krzyzaniak 1987; 1990; 1991; 1992; Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1985; 1993). These activities initially confirmed Winkler’s prescribed spatial limitations for the ‘pregnant women’ motif, with no

Despite and in opposition to the old chronological trends, those studying the rock-art within the Dakhleh Oasis region have long attempted to push beyond the boundaries of chronological assessment (Krzyzaniak

                                                            

2 For the purposes of this paper the ‘Dakhleh region’ is considered to include Dakhleh Oasis proper and the above listed locations.

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DANIEL JAMES artefact assemblages, site features, site locations, and organic remains. These groups cannot be broken down into two simple categories of mobile hunter-gatherers and sedentary plant cultivators as Winkler’s stylistic groups suggest. The subsistence strategies and sedentary nature of these cultural units is far more complex (McDonald 2009).

1987; Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1985; Winkler 1939). We find then that, Krzyzaniak (1987, 183; Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1993, 78) with his attention focused on examining the rock-art in order to understand the prehistoric attitudes of people towards animals, elected to adopt Winkler’s stylistic groups due to the sheer amount of time it would take to establish a brand new system of classification. This is despite the concern of archaeologists such as Hoffmann (1991, 233-239), Kromer (1970, 385-386) and Trigger (1965, 63-64) who recognised quite early the inherent flaws of Winkler’s system.

What is clear is that the adoption of Winkler’s now questionable interpretations and theoretical frameworks has ensured that rock-art research at Dakhleh is unintentionally steeped in Winkler’s bias. These processes have continued following Krzyzaniak’s passing in 2004, with his work at Dakhleh continued by his students and colleagues, who hold a similar if not identical stance (e.g. Kuciewicz et. al. 2007). More concerning is the adoption of these frameworks by those working outside Dakhleh: at the previously mentioned sites of Meri, DWM, and Kharga Oasis, and even by those working in the Eastern Desert (Berger 2006; 2008; Bergmann 2003; Ikram 2009; Judd 2009; Riemer 2006; 2009). The result of this is that Winkler-styled interpretations of ‘females’, along with their associated divine connotations, are reported with little hesitation.

The unfortunate but unavoidable consequence of adopting Winkler’s classifications was the adoption of the interpretations and inherent biases that shaped them, resulting in Winkler-styled interpretations and chronological/stylistic positioning persisting despite their inherent flaws. While a decision was later made to improve upon, but not redo, Winkler’s typology (Krzyzaniak 1991, 60; Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1993, 78), it remains unclear what this entailed and there is no evidence in the publications that followed that any significant change had taken place. This touches on one of the predominant issues regarding the presumed pre-historic rock-art in and around Dakhleh: the lack of secure dating. Winkler and those following him have employed style as a primary chronological tool, and although it has traditionally been used as a dating method in rock-art studies (Lorblanchet and Bahn 1993; Muzzolini 2006), its use in this regard has been challenged (e.g. Conkey and Hastorf 1990; Lorblanchet and Bahn 1993). Alternative stylistic theory suggests that style should be regarded as differentiating methods and means of communication, which may exist outside the bounds of chronology (Conkey 1990). Any ‘pigeon-holing’ of the Dakhleh rock-art thus disregards not only the possibility that the so-called ‘schematic’ forms of the ‘female’ image are of a different chronological period to the ‘elaborate’ ones, but also disregards the possibility of entirely different embedded meanings.

THE PRESENCE AND ABSENCE ANALYSIS It is the major contention of this paper that any interpretation of Winkler goddesses should be based upon objective and replicable analysis of the data, not initial intuition. In order to show what information this sort of testing regime can provide, a presence and absence analysis is performed upon a corpus of Winkler goddesses. The presence and absence test is based upon the identification of anthropomorphic traits used to establish humanity and sexual character (Maynard 1977, 398-399; Rosenfeld 1977; Ucko and Rosenfeld 1972). In terms of its adoption here, it entails a simple examination of the presence, or absence, of a number of key characteristics that readily distinguish a human from an animal (Ucko and Rosenfeld 1972, 149). These attributes, referred to as ‘anthropomorphic attributes’ are: 1. Arms. 2. Hands. 3. Legs. 4. Feet. 5. Head.

We know, through the work of the DOP, the North Kharga Oasis Survey (NKOS), and the Arid Climate, Adaption and Cultural Innovation in Africa project (ACACIA) that the units Winkler identified through the rock-art imagery he recorded do not equate with what is known from the archaeological record. At Dakhleh specifically, the cultural units identified as belonging to the early to mid Holocene or Late pre-historic period, which would correspond to the chronological period of Winkler’s Earliest Hunters and Early Oasis Dwellers/Early Nile Valley Dwellers, are the Masara or Epipalaeolithic (ca. 9300 – 6500 cal BCE), Bashendi Neolithic (subdivided into Bashendi A: ca. 6400 – 5650 cal BCE, and Bashendi B: ca. 5400 – 3800 cal BCE) and Sheikh Muftah (which existed into the Early Dynastic period, ca. 3800 – 2200 cal BCE) (most recently McDonald 2007; 2008; 2009). These units have been extensively defined over the life of the DOP, based upon

The first five attributes test the legitimacy of the supposed anthropomorphic nature of these figures, that is to say are they human or human-like? The sex of the images is tested by the presence or absence of primary and secondary sexual characteristics (Ucko and Rosenfeld 1972, 157): 6. Breasts (primary sexual characteristic). 7. Penis/Penis Sheath (primary sexual characteristic). 8. Vulva (primary sexual characteristic). 9. Pubic Triangle (secondary sexual characteristic). 10. Beard (secondary sexual characteristic). Definition of these characteristics is fairly selfexplanatory, although the ‘arms’ and ‘breasts’ categories

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Ambiguous Images: Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert

  apparent is the fact that all examples with definite breasts also display arms (e.g. Plate 6.1; see also Krzyzaniak 1987, Fig. 4; 2004, Fig. 2). In addition, no examples of figures with the rounded arms/breast attribute display additional arms/breasts (Plate 1, 2 and 5). In other words, if the rounded shape represents breasts, then there are no examples of rounded breasts with arms. This rounded arms/breasts component is also found on figures with a penis/sheath (Plate 4 and 5). Examples also exist (e.g. Plate 6.2) where the rounded arms/breast attribute is shown as an incomplete semi-circular engraving, again implying an arm interpretation.

need some further justification. Authors discussing the Dakhleh images are vague with their interpretation of an area of the figure below the head that is typically referred to as breasts (Berger 2006, 196; 2008, 138; Riemer 2006, 499; 2009, 40). This attribute is typically represented by a circular engraving, a cupule (round/pecked engraving), or curvilinear shape (e.g. examples on Plate 2; 4 and 5). The interpretation of this attribute has the potential to critically impact on the results of this analysis if interpreted incorrectly, making it necessary to test whether it must be classified as an ambiguous characteristic or make a definitive statement for it as either breasts and/or arms.

Another factor which may impact upon this discussion is the interpretation of the perspective of many of these images. They are typically referred to as being in profile with front-facing/frontal figures also occurring, although somewhat rarer (Plate 6.1). It should be noted that all figures with definite breasts are only shown from a frontfacing perspective. If a vague sense of anatomical accuracy is desired, the rounded arms/breasts characteristic is not well suited as breasts on a true profile figure. I would suggest however, that the figures identified as ‘profiles’ are not true profile figures and are instead a composite of features from differing perspectives. Specifically, we find that the lower body occurs in profile with an upper body and head from a front-facing perspective. The combination of perspectives is certainly a Dynastic artistic convention (Robins 1997, 21) that appears to have been ignored or unnoticed by those interpreting the Winkler goddesses.

The sexual characteristics detailed above remain the most reliable way to determine the sex of a figure when lacking informed material relating to the pre-historic periods of the Dakhleh region and the cultural groups that inhabited it (Taçon and Chippindale 1998, 6-7). If sexless figures are shown to exist amongst the corpus, it raises questions over the definitive statements researchers currently make regarding the sex of these images. The corollary to this is that interpretations based upon this assumption of sex are also called into question. In addition to these ten attributes, four others have been included to determine their impact upon the sex and/or divinity of the images, referred to here as ‘Goddess attributes’. These characteristics, along with the already listed ‘breasts’, are readily cited by authors discussing the Dakhleh material and appear to have been integral to their interpretations (Table 1). As such, they are worth testing to determine whether their use as markers of divinity is appropriate. These attributes are: 11. Pronounced belly (often considered an indicator of pregnancy). 12. Exaggerated Buttocks /Exaggerated Skirts /Exaggerated Lower Body. 13. Decoration of Head (includes hair). 14. Decoration of Lower Body/Skirt/Buttocks.

These factors suggest that this rounded arms/breast characteristic represents arms that have gone through a system of schematisation and not breasts (Maynard 1977; Rosenfeld 1977). It may suggest a move to a standardisation of arm representation given the lack of uniformity of the attribute throughout the corpus in general. Thus for the purposes of the analysis to follow, this attribute will be referred to as and considered to be arms.

The analysis of these attributes not only examines their individual presence or absence, but any correlation or patterning of attributes.

Similar issues arise with regard to an attribute described as a belt (e.g. Berger 2008) on the Winkler goddesses. I suggest that this component of the image is, in fact, a depiction of a penis or penis-sheath, based upon its positioning at the front of the figure when it occurs (e.g. Plate 3.4 and 4.2). It is at no time depicted at a different position on the body, which may be expected of a belt. I would argue, therefore, that the interpretation of this attribute as a belt is based upon the preconception that Winkler goddesses are in-fact female.

THE ISSUE OF ROUNDED ARMS/BREASTS AND BELTS/PENIS SHEATHS. Before presence/absence testing of attributes can commence, the rounded arms/breasts require further consideration. As discussed earlier, identification of this attribute could directly impact on the results of any analysis of anthropomorphic characteristics, making this a necessary and crucial first step.

CONDITIONS OF THE ANALYSIS A total corpus of 129 individual figures were subjected to the formal analysis; 67 from the Winkler archive of published pictures and unpublished plates (Winkler 1939), 21 from the published works of Krzyzaniak (Krzyzaniak 1987; 1990; 1991; 1993; 2001; 2004 Krzyzaniak and Kroeper 1985; 1991; 1993), 31 from the published works of Berger (2008), 7 from Riemer (2007),

As it stands, interpretation of the rounded arms/breast attribute (e.g. Berger 2008) is based upon personal opinion or simple observation of the art and not a testable process that elucidates patterns amongst the corpus (Maynard 1977, 387). If we look at the corpus of published Winkler goddesses, what becomes readily

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DANIEL JAMES 2 unpublished examples kindly provided by S. Ikram in 2009, and 1 unpublished example kindly provided by C. Hope in 2007.

hands at 2% (n=6) and feet at 1% (n=3). Of the total corpus (n=129) only 7.8% (n=10) display no anthropomorphic attributes at all.

Each image was assessed on paper: as colour, photoquality prints (e.g. Plates 1 to 5) for the material of Winkler, Hope and Ikram, and black and white photocopies in the case of Krzyzaniak, Berger and Riemer. The reasons for this difference in image representation are due to the issues of publication: the relevant works of Berger, Krzyzaniak and Riemer have all been published in black and white, making colour reproductions impossible. The quality of the original photos also varied considerably, ranging from highquality print-outs of digital scans made from original negatives (in the case of Winkler) to blurred digital photographs (in the case of Ikram).

Figure 3 Breakdown of anthropomorphic attributes by  percentage.  Figure 4 presents a tree diagram that shows the possible combinations of anthropomorphic attributes, with a total of 26, ranging from single examples such as ‘Head’ to ‘Arms, Hands, Legs, Feet and Head’. The actual presence of these in the corpus is presented in Figure 5 below.

These issues impacted upon the analysis, resulting in attributes that were more difficult to spot on some examples compared to others. This is an unfortunate issue relating to the material under study and needs to be kept in mind when reading the results of this analysis. The use of a hand-lens with a 10x magnification was employed to make judgments regarding difficult attributes and to prevent image quality from critically affecting results.

The range and number of combinations of anthropomorphic attributes present varies, with ‘Arms and Head’ by far the most common combination of traits, making up over 50% of the total corpus (n=70). ‘Arms, Legs and Head’ are significantly behind at just over 10% (n=13), followed by both ‘Arms’ and images lacking any attribute at 7.8% each (n=10). These figures suggest that the artists were far more likely to add arms and a head in combination to the petroglyph than all other attributes and that a lack of features is relatively infrequent (7.8% n=10). The limited ranges of attribute combinations, when compared to the larger potential range (Figure 4), are interesting. It is rare for an image to display arms and hands in any sort of combination with only 4.8% in total displaying a combination involving these two attributes (n=6). Legs and feet are slightly less common, making up only 2.4% (n=3) of images.

Of further consideration is the fact that the images under study are petroglyphs incised or engraved into sandstone that is quite soft and open to damage from the elements or human agency. Attributes that were partially damaged but identifiable were recorded for the purposes of the presence/absence analysis, but only measured when complete for the proportional quantitative analysis. Where damage removed the possibility for attribute identification, it was recorded as such so as to not impact on the analysis. In an attempt to acknowledge and work with these issues, each image representation not reproduced from a Winkler plate negative was enlarged, where possible, to allow for better examination of image attributes. In addition, all images were examined under a 10x hand-lens as already mentioned, and also measured with a digital vernier calliper.

Moving to the presence or sexual characteristics we find that only a small proportion of the corpus includes such attributes (Table 3). This is in stark contrast to the anthropomorphic attributes where 89.9% of the images (Anthropomorphic attributes in Figure 7 less the ‘Without’ and ‘Damage’ categories) display anthropomorphic traits.

RESULTS The results of the presence and absence test are provided below in Table 2 and Figure 3: Nr. Present

arms 104

hands 6

legs 28

feet 3

Nr. Present

head 103

breasts

penis/ sheath

vulva

pubic triangle

beard

3

15

0

2

0

Table 3 Presence of individual sexual characteristics. 

Table 2 Presence of individual anthropomorphic  attributes. 

Only a single example depicts a combination of sexual traits (see Krzyzaniak 1987, Figure 4), exhibiting both breasts and a pubic triangle. This leaves a total of 19 individual figures (14.7%) that display a primary or secondary sexual characteristic. The sexual characteristics are broken down into their relevant frequencies in Figure 5.

Table 2 and Figure 3 show the number of individual anthropomorphic attributes present amongst the corpus of images. Where an attribute is present, arms and head are the most common, making up 43% (n=104) and 42% (n=103) respectively, followed by legs at 12% (n=28),

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Ambiguous Images: Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert

 

 

Figure 4 Possible range of combinations of anthropomorphic attributes.    It is instantly noticeable that the penis/sheath is the predominant sexual characteristic amongst the images that can be sexed, making up 75% (n=15). Breasts and pubic triangle make up the remaining numbers with 15% (n=3) and 10% (n=2) respectively.  

(Figure 6). This suggests that the exaggeration of the skirt/buttocks is of considerably higher significance than all other ‘integral’ attributes. The potential combinations of these attributes and their frequency are points worth considering (Figure 8 and 9).

Nr. Present

pronounced belly

exaggerated skirt/ buttocks/ lower body

head dec. /hair

dec. of lower body/skirt/ buttocks

55

129

17

44

Table 4 Presence of integral attributes identified by  authors. 

 

Figure 5 Breakdown of figures with a sexual  characteristic by percentage. The final component of the presence/absence analysis turns to the attributes typically cited by authors as the defining characteristics of the motif (Table 1). Table 4 lists the frequency of occurrence of these attributes (note that breasts, also cited by these authors, has already been included in the sexual characteristics analysis and is therefore not repeated here). An additional decorative element noted by myself (head/hair) has been added to this analysis to test its potential importance. The breakdown of these attributes is presented in Figure 6.

Figure 6 Breakdown of integral attributes by percentage  of corpus displaying these attributes

Where these ‘integral attributes’ are present, they most often consist of exaggerated skirt/buttocks (100%), followed by the pronounced belly (42.6%) and skirt/buttock decoration (34.1%). The additional category of ‘head decoration’ comes in last at 13.2%, and the previously tested breasts category comes in at 15%

The potential combinations for the integral attribute, of which there are 15 in total, differs considerably from the actual range and frequency of combinations present in the corpus (Figure 9). The exaggerated skirt/buttocks where lacking any combination of other attributes is by far the

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DANIEL JAMES with a belly. But how does this compare to figures that may be sexed and is there any pattern?

most commonly occurring, making up 40.3% of the total assemblage. Figures with a greater number of combinations are the least occurring, ranging from 5.4% to 3.9%.

If we turn to figures that can be sexed as ‘females’, we find that all examples of breasts (n=3) occur with skirt/buttock decoration (100%) while 66.7% (n=2) display head decoration. All examples with a pubic triangle (n=2) display both head and skirt decoration. What can be noted is that skirt/buttock decoration on definite ‘females’ makes up only 11.4% of the total number of skirt decorations, with head decoration on ‘females’ making up slightly more at 23.5% of total head decorations. As stated, no figures displaying explicit female sexual characteristics also display a pronounced belly.

The results pertaining to the pronounced belly indicate that it never occurs on its own, instead typically appearing in combination with exaggerated buttocks (21.7%) or with exaggerated buttocks and skirt decoration (13.2%). It is rarely shown in a combination that involves head decoration (7.8%) (Figure 9). Relating these results to sexual characteristics (Table 3 and Figure 5), it is notable that no image contains a pronounced belly in combination with any sexual characteristic, be it of male or female designation. The difficulty is then in determining whether the belly attribute represents pregnancy, thereby making it a sexual characteristic determining its female sex, or whether it represents something else (obesity, for example, or simply a stylised ‘normal’ belly). It is possible that patterns not elucidated by the attribute analysis may be noted by a closer examination of the decorative elements.

Turning to male figures, decoration on images with a penis is uncommon with only 20% (n=3) displaying any form of decoration. 66.7% of these are skirt decoration (n=2), while 33.3% (n=1) are of head and skirt decoration combined. Skirt decoration on figures that may be classified as ‘male’ therefore make up only 6.8% of the total number of skirt decorations, while head decorations on ‘males’ only make up 5.9%.

With regard to links between the belly characteristic and decoration: of the 55 individual examples of the belly (Table 4), 27 of them (49.1%) have some form of decoration. 17 (30.9%) display skirt decoration only, 5 (9.1%) display head decoration only, and 5 (9.1%) also display both head and skirt decoration. When we consider that there are only a total 44 examples with skirt/buttock decoration, 50% (n=22) of these occur on the figures with a belly. Head decoration, on the other hand, occurs 17 times in total, with 58.8% (n=10) occurring on figures

This leaves a considerable proportion of figures with skirt decorations unsexed (36.4%), with a smaller number of figures with head decoration also remaining unsexed (17.6%). While the results suggest that definite ‘female’ figures are more likely to be decorated than males, this may be skewed by the smaller number of ‘females’ in the data set. The resulting numbers, therefore, are potentially statistically irrelevant or anomalous, and highlight the previously mentioned issues relating to the corpus of figures available.

Figure 7 Anthropomorphic attributes present as percentage (%) of corpus. 

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  Figure 8 Tree diagram of possible integral attribute combinations. figures cannot be identified as being anthropomorphic in nature, based on a lack of any attribute determining anthropomorphism. These figures, often identified by authors as ‘h’ or ‘b’ shapes, or simply as ‘schematics’ have previously been interpreted as schematised or simplified versions of the ‘female’ image that have been subjected to a process of simplification whilst retaining the original meaning and intent of the more elaborate images. This view was first put forward by Winkler (1939, 28) and subsequently came to be adopted in turn by Krzyzaniak (e.g. Krzyzaniak 1990, 96; 2001, 250) and others working in the region (e.g. Berger 2008, 138; Kuciewicz et. al. 2007). Similar interpretations have been made of supposed schematic ‘female’ figures shown in profile from the Upper Palaeolithic in Europe (Rosenfeld 1977) and more recently of Neolithic material from Turkey (Khan 1990; 1996) and Saudi Arabia (Khan 1990: 1996).

DISCUSSION The results presented above clearly show how an objective, replicable and transparent analysis can add to the existing discussion regarding the Winkler goddesses of the Dakhleh Oasis region. The application of this sort of testing regime should lend significant weight to determining whether such figures can be objectively referred to as either ‘females’ and/or ‘goddesses’, or if indeed a new form of designation is necessary for some of these images. If the sex of these images is questionable, then also questionable is the tendency for them to be lumped together as a single category or typeclass of rock-art image. The results of the presence/absence test were unexpected when considering the prevailing interpretative trend for these images. Looking at the anthropomorphic nature of the figures first, it may be stated that only 10.1% of

 

Figure 9 Integral attribute combinations present as percentages (%) of total corpus.

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DANIEL JAMES obstetrician (Dr Barnett 2009, pers. comm.) will point out that every woman carries their child in a different way and position, or that Guthrie (2005, 349) also went on to note that the swollen abdomens are disproportionately large compared with the rest of the ‘bulges’ of the body. This does not appear to be the case with this corpus of images.

Such interpretations, at least with regard to the Dakhleh material, attempt to pigeon-hole images that, at first glance appear to be vastly different in style if not subject matter, into a single all-encompassing type category: ‘female goddesses’. This is not to say they are necessarily incorrect, but the assignation of type-classes to this material must be based on analysis, not intuition, and allow for variance between each type (Muzzolini 2006).

The results show that the belly does not overlap with any of the other sexual characteristics, making conclusive determinations somewhat difficult. As the existence of a belly alone is not enough to make assertions about the sex of a figure (Verpoorte 2001, 92), we turn to decoration as a potential means of assistance. Decoration, at least of the skirts/buttocks area is another attribute typically cited as characterising these images (Table 1). This is a little misleading, as only 44 examples display such decoration, while another 17 display head decoration, although this decorative element is not mentioned by researchers discussing these figures.

Regarding the results pertaining to the presence/absence of sexual characteristics, interesting questions have been raised regarding the current trend to sex these images as ‘female’. Only 14.7% of the corpus of 129 images can be sexed based upon sexual characteristics. Of these 14.7%, 75% (n=15) were determined in my analysis to be male based upon the identification of a penis or penis sheath. Of the definite female figures, all are depicted from a frontal perspective. Male figures, on the other hand, occur only on figures that exhibit a combination of profile (lower body) and frontal perspectives (upper body). Also striking is the apparent lack of combinations of sexual characteristics, with only one image displaying both breasts and a pubic triangle. This suggests that varied methods of sexing representations were either infrequent or inapplicable to rock-artistry. Similarly interesting is the lack of any additional sexes: hermaphrodites or transgendered figures. These figures are not uncommon in prominent rock-art areas to the southwest of Dakhleh, in the Gilf Kebir and Gebel Uweinat regions (András Zboray 2009, pers. comm.).

When we consider the images with a belly, nearly half of them are decorated (either head or skirt) and exactly half of all figures with skirt/buttock decoration also have a belly. But is decoration characteristic of the figures that can be sexed? On definite female images we find that all examples with breasts (n=3) occur with skirt/buttock decoration (100%), while 66.7% (n=2) display head decoration. Similarly all figures with a pubic triangle (n=2) display both head and skirt decoration. Decoration on images that have been classified as being male is less common with only 20% (n=3) of images with a penis/sheath displaying any form of decorative element. Two thirds of these are skirt decoration with the remaining third of head and skirt decoration combined.

This leaves a significant 85.3% of the rock-art corpus that must be considered of undetermined sex. This may have been intentional by the artists, or alternatively other methods of sexing existed, known to both the creator and intended audience. These sexless figures, which may represent immature individuals or spiritual beings, require specific explanation and interpretation. That they exist as a distinct and separate category of image type needs to be considered.

With regard to the frequency of decoration on sexed figures we see that only 11.4% of the total number of skirt decorations are found on females, with nearly one quarter of total head decorations found on females. Skirt decoration on male figures make up only 6.8% of the total number of skirt decorations, while head decorations on males only make up 5.9%. We find then that a significant portion of skirt decorations are on either unsexed figures at 31.8% or figures with a belly at 50%. The percentages for head decoration are slightly smaller on unsexed figures at 17.6%, but higher on figures with a belly at 58.8%.

Given the large portion of the corpus that remains unsexed, it is worth examining the possibility that another attribute may be a possible sexual characteristic. Pregnancy is typically cited (Table 1) as one of the main descriptive elements of these images and obviously factors heavily into the ‘pregnant goddess’ interpretations typically offered as an explanatory framework. If the belly attribute does indeed represent pregnancy then it likely reflects the female sex, though the possibility for transgendered spiritual beings should also be considered. As the results of my analysis show, 55 individual examples of the belly (Table 4) exist in the corpus, making up 42.6% of the total assemblage.

Again, the low number of identifiable females is obviously a problem with regards to the analysis of decoration in particular, resulting in small numbers that are statistically insignificant. This is unfortunately a problem of the data that can only be solved through additional surveying and data publication, highlighting the need for additional work in the Dakhleh region or for those working there already to publish more detailed accounts to facilitate greater analysis. Despite these problems, my results suggest that neither the belly nor decoration can be used to make unequivocal statements regarding the sex of a figure.

Recently Berger (2008, 140) claimed that the presence of pronounced bellies indicated pregnancy due to their position on the body. This conclusion was based upon the work of Guthrie (2005, 149) who discussed pregnancy position and how the swelling of a woman’s abdomen generally conforms to a specific shape and direction. What Berger did not consider is the fact that any modern

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Ambiguous Images: Problems and Possibilities of Analysing Rock-art Images in the Egyptian Western Desert

  It is obvious that there is a need for care when discussing the sex and divine nature of the supposed ‘females’ at Dakhleh. As already shown by Ucko (1968) for the interpretation of prehistoric figurines from Egypt, Crete and the Near East: male and sexless figures are often ignored or dismissed by proponents of Mother Goddess styled explanations. These sorts of explanatory frameworks are long outdated in the field of figurine studies; it would be ill of us to adopt them without question for Winkler goddesses.

translating Winkler’s unpublished field notes. I would also like to thank Associate Professor Colin Hope, Jess Cox, Lucia Clayton, Johanna Petkov and Maj. Michael Lee for commenting on an early draft of this paper. Finally, research undertaken for this paper would not have been possible without the financial assistance of Monash University. Any errors contained within the above paper are the sole responsibility of the author.

The call for greater objectivity in interpreting these figures has more at stake than a simple academic distinction. At the heart of this is what archaeology and rock-art studies ultimately have as one of their goals: to make statements about the history and social processes of people and cultural groups. At present, the ideological and social interpretations of the early inhabitants of the Dakhleh Oasis region cannot help but be influenced by the presentation of this corpus as a group of ‘female goddesses’. The implication is that a Goddessworshipping group of people inhabited the area, with a pre-occupation for engraving a pregnant deity onto the rocks for worship or ritual purposes. There is a tendency to then link the worship of this goddess with fertility rites and associations. This might very well be the case, but as I have shown, the interpretations rely on links that are tenuous at best.

Barta, M. 2010. Swimmers in the Sand. On the Neolithic Origins of Ancient Egyptian Mythology and Symbolism. Prague: Dryada Publishers.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barth, H. 1857-58. Travel and Discoveries in North and Central Africa. London: Longman, Brown, Green and Roberts. Berger, F. 2006. ‘Relative Chronology of Rock Art at Djedefre’s Water Mountain, SW – Egypt’. In Archaeology of Early Northeastern Africa: In memory of Lech Krzyzaniak, edited by Kroeper, K; Chlodnicki, M; Kobusiewicz, M. Studies in African Archaeology 9. Poznan: Poznan Archaeological Museum, 137-146. Berger, F. 2008. ‘Rock Art West of Dakhla: The ‘Women’ from Dakhla’. Rock Art Research 25(2): 137145.

The current push for new and greater emphasis on wellthought out interpretations and analyses, over traditional chronological assessments (e.g. Barta 2010; Hendrickx et. al. 2010; Holl 2004; Huyge 2002; Le Quellec 2008a) is an important one. These advances are being made despite the problems of some interpretations made of material from the Saharan region, with their needlessly reckless assumptions and poor analytical methodology (Chippindale in Keenan 2005, 484; Le Quellec 2008b, 52). It is time for research in the Dakhleh region to follow suit.

Bergmann, C. 2003. ‘Discoveries in the Western Desert of Egypt’. Carlo Bergmann’s Discoveries. Accessed 17th July 2009. Available from: http://www.carlobergmann.de/Discoveries/discovery.htm. Brentjes, B. 1969. African rock art. Translated by Anthony Dent. London: J M Dent and Sons. Cervicek, P. 1986. Rock Pictures of Upper Egypt and Nubia . Naples: Instituto Universitario Orientale.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Cervicek, P. 1993. ‘Chorology and Chronology of Upper Egyptian and Nubian Rock Art Up to 1400 B.C’. Sahara 5: 41-48.

Plates 1 to 6 are digital scans made by Michael Morrow from Winkler's original negatives. These are reproduced courtesy of the Egypt Exploration Society.

Conkey, M. W; Hastorf, C. A. 1990. The Uses of Style in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

I would like to thank Associate Professor Colin Hope and Dr Bruno David of Monash University for their supervision of my MA thesis, on which this paper is based. I am also indebted to Dr Patricia Spencer and Dr Christopher Naunton of the Egypt Exploration Society London, and Mr Mike Morrow of the Rock Art Topographical Survey in Egypt’s Eastern Desert for their assistance with the Winkler archive material held at the EES, and for their permission to use the scans of Winkler’s original negatives. Professor Salima Ikram and Associate Professor Colin Hope are also thanked for their permission to use unpublished images from Dakhleh and Kharga Oasis. Without these images and prints my analyses and this paper would not have been possible. Sincere thanks must also go to Susanne Arenhövel for

Conkey, M. W. 1990. ‘Experimenting with style in archaeology: some historical and theoretical issues’. In The Uses of Style in Archaeology, edited by Conkey, M. W; Hastorf, C. A. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 5-17. Davis, W. M. 1979. ‘Sources for the Study of Rock Art in the Nile Valley’. Göttinger Miszellen 32: 59-74. Guthrie, R. D. 2005. The Nature of Paleolithic Art. Chicaco: University of Chicago Press.

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Krzyzaniak, L. 1991. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Research on the Petroglyphs 1990’. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean II, Reports 1989-1991: 60-64.

Judd, T. 2009. Rock Art of the Eastern Desert of Egypt: Content, comparisons, dating and significance. BAR S2008. Oxford: BAR Publishing.

Krzyzaniak, L. 1993. ‘Dakhleh Oasis: Research on the Rock Art 1992’. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean IV, Reports 1992: 80-82.

Junginger, H. 1995a. ‘Ein Kapitel Religionswissenschaft während der NS-Zeit: Hans Alexander Winkler (19001945)’. Zeitschrift für Relgionswissenschaft 2: 137-161.

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Krzyzaniak, L. 2004. ‘Dakhleh Oasis. Research on petroglyphs’. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean XV, Reports 2003: 181-189. Kuciewicz, E. 2008. ‘Petroglyphs’. In Dakhleh Oasis Project Prehistory Group: 2008 Final Report. Accessed September 2009. Available from: 20th http://arts.monash.edu.au/archaeology/excavations/dakhle h/assets/documents/doppg-report-2008.pdf.

Keenan, J. 2005. ‘Looting the Sahara: The Material, Intellectual and Social Implications of the Destruction of Cultural Heritage (Briefing)’. The Journal of North African Studies 10 (3-4): 471-489. Khan, M. 1990. ‘The Problem of Inter Regional Cultural/Iconographic Contacts in Prehistory’. ATLAL: The Journal of Saudi Arabian Archaeology 13: 35-57.

Kuciewicz, E; Jaroni, E; Kobusciewicz, M. 2005. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Petroglyph Unit: New Rock Art Sites, Season 2005’. Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean XVII, Reports 2005: 279-284

Khan, M. 1996. ‘Rock Art Research in the Arabian Peninsula, Levant and Anatolia’. In Rock Art Studies: News of the World I, edited by Bahn, P. G; Fossati, A. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 95-104.

Kuciewicz, E; Jaroni, E; Kobusciewicz, M. 2006. ‘Petroglyph Unit’. In Dakhleh Oasis Project Report to the Supreme Council of Antiquities 2005-2006 Season. Accessed 20th September 2009. Available from: http://arts.monash.edu.au/archaeology/excavations/dakhle h/assets/documents/dakhleh-report-2005-2006.pdf.

Kromer, K. 1970. ‘Comments’. In Symposium international d’art préhistorique, Valcamonica 1968, edited by Anati, E. Brescia: Edizione del Centro, 384387.

Kuciewicz, E; Jaroni, E; Kobusciewicz, M. 2007. ‘The Petroglyphs’ Code’. Academia 1 (13): 4-8.

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  Rhotert, H. 1952. Libysche Felsbilder; Ergebnisse der XI. und XII. Deutschen Inner-afrikanischen ForschungsExpedition (DIAFE) 1933/1934/1935. Darmstadt: L.C. Wittich Verlag.

Le Quellec, J.-L. 2008a. ‘Can One ‘Read’ Rock Art? An Egyptian Example’. In Iconography without Texts, edited by Taylor, P. London: The Warburg Institute, 25-42. Le Quellec. J.-L. 2008b. ‘What’s New in the Saharah, 2000-2004?’. In Rock Art Studies: News of the World 3, edited by Bahn, P.G; Franklin, N; Strecker, M. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 52-88.

Riemer, H. 2006. ‘Out of Dakhla: Cultural diversity and mobility between the Egyptian Oases and the Great Sand Seas during the Holocene humid phase’. In Archaeology of Early Northeastern Africa: In memory of Lech Krzyzaniak, edited by Kroeper, K; Chlodnicki, M; Kobusiewicz, M. Studies in African Archaeology 9. Poznan: Poznan Archaeological Museum, 493-526.

Lorblanchet, M; Bahn, P. G. 1993. ‘Introduction’. In Rock Art Studies: The Post-Stylistic Era or Where Do We Go from Here, edited by Lorblanchet, M; Bahn, P. G. Oxford: Oxbow Books, v-vii. May, S. K; Sanz, I. D. 2009. ‘Making Sense of Scenes’. Rock Art Research 27 (1): 35-42.

Robins, G. 1997. The Art of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum Press for the Trustees of the British Museum.

Maynard, L. 1977. ‘Classification and Terminology in Australian Rock Art’. In Form in Indigenous Art: schematisation in the art of Aboriginal Australia and prehistoric Europe, edited by Ucko, P. J. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, Canberra, 387402.

Rosenfeld, A. 1977. ‘Profile Figures: Schematisation of the Human Figure in Magdalenian Culture of Europe’. In Form in Indigenous Art: schematisation in the art of Aboriginal Australia and prehistoric Europe, edited by Ucko, P. J. Canberra: Australian Institute of Aboriginal Studies, 90-109.

McDonald, M. M. A. 1993. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Holocene Prehistory: Interim Report on the 1988 and 1989 Seasons’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 20: 43-76.

Rosenfeld, A. 1997. ‘Archaeological Signatures of the Social Context of Rock Art Production’. In Beyond Art: Pleistocene Image and Symbol, edited by Conkey, M; Soffer, O; Stratmann, D; Jablonski, N. G. California: California Academy of Sciences, 27-51.

McDonald, M. M. A. 2007. ‘Twilight of the microlith in the Late Epipalaeolithic of North East Africa? Locality 268 in Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt’. Journal of African Archaeology 5: 79-90.

Riemer, H. 2009. ‘Prehistoric Rock Art Research in the Western Desert of Egypt’. Archeo-Nil 19: 31-46. Smith, A. B. 2006. ‘Rock Art of the Sahara’. The Digging Stick 23 (1) (April): 5-8.

McDonald, M. M. A. 2008. ‘Emerging social complexity in the mid-Holocene Egyptian Western Desert: Site 270 and its neighbours in Southeastern Dakhleh Oasis’. In The Oasis Papers 2, Proceedings of the Second International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Wiseman, M. F. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 54-87.

Smith, P. E. L. 1968. ‘Problems and Possibilities of the Prehistoric Rock Art of Northern Africa’. African Historical Studies 1 (1): 1-39. Taçon, P. S. C; Chippindale, C. 1998. ‘Introduction: an archaeology of rock-art through informed methods and formal methods’. In The archaeology of rock-art, edited by Chippindale, C; Taçon, P. S. C. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1-10.

McDonald, M. M. A. 2009. ‘Increased Sedentism in the Central Oases of the Egyptian Western Desert in the Early to Mid-Holocene: Evidence from the Peripheries’. African Archaeological Review 26: 3-43. Muzzolini, A. 1996. ‘Northern Africa: Some Advances in Rock Art Studies’. In Rock Art Studies: News of the World 1, edited by Bahn, P. G; Fossati, A. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 59-69.

Trigger, B. G. 1965. History and Settlement in Lower Nubia. New York: Yale University Press. Ucko, P. J. 1962. ‘The Interpretation of Prehistoric Anthropomorphic Figurines’. The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 92 (1): 38-54.

Muzzolini, A. 2003. ‘New Data in Saharan Rock Art 1995-1999’. In Rock Art Studies: News of the World 2, edited by Bahn, P. G; Fossati, A. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 44-58. Muzzolini, A. 2006. ‘Classifying a set of rock art: how to choose the criteria’. Rock Art Research 23 (2): 171-178.

Ucko, P. J. 1968. Anthropomorphic Figurines of Predynastic Egypt and Neolithic Crete with Comparative Material from the Prehistoric Near East and Mainland Greece. London: Andrew Szmidla.

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DANIEL JAMES Prehistorico Santander 1972. Madrid: Union Internationale des Sciences Prehistoriques et Protohistoriques, 149-211. Van Noten, F. 1978. Rock Art of Jebel Uweinat. Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt. Verpoorte, A. 2001. Places of Art, Traces of Fire: A contextual approach to anthropomorphic figurines in the Pavlovian (Central Europe, 29-24 kyr BP). Leiden: Archaeological Studies Leiden University. Willcox, A. R. 1984. The Rock Art of Africa. London: Croom Helm. Winkler, H. A. 1938a. Rock Drawings of Southern Upper Egypt I: Sir Robert Mond Desert Expedition. Season 1936-1937 Preliminary Report. London: The Egypt Exploration Society. Winkler, H. A. 1938b. Winkler’s Field Diary and Notes (unpublished). Accessed 4 February 2009. Held in Egypt Exploration Society, London, Archives. Winkler, H. A. 1938c. Winkler correspondence (unpublished). Accessed 4 February 2009. Held in Egypt Exploration Society, London, Archives. Winkler, H. A. 1939. Rock Drawings of Southern Upper Egypt II (Including Uwenat): Sir Robert Mond Desert Expedition. Season 1937-1938 Preliminary Report. London: The Egypt Exploration Society.

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The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period: A Reinterpretation of Buhen Stela 691 and Related Objects Christian Knoblauch

Figure 1 Monuments depicting the Ruler of Kush from Buhen fortress (a) from Smith 1976, pl. III (2); b) from Smith  1976, pl. III (7); c) from Smith 1972, fig. 11 (3).   considerable: Despite the initial excavations at Kerma by Reisner (1913-1916) and ongoing excavations at the same site by the University of Geneva since 1973 they remain the only widely accepted depictions of a Kerman ruler (i.e. Valbelle 2004, 176 concerning Buhen 691 only).2

INTRODUCTION The subject of this paper is Buhen Stela 691 (H7-14; Khartoum 62/8/17), found at Buhen fortress by the mission of the Egyptian Exploration Society in December 1959 (Figure 1a; Emery 1961a, 84-85; Smith 1976, 11-12, pl. III, 2; LVIII, 4; Emery et al. 1979, 63). This small sandstone stela measuring 26 x 29.5cm depicts a striding figure wearing the white crown of Upper Egypt, holding a reversed bow and brandishing a weapon for close combat. The stela was dated to the late Second Intermediate Period in the final publication of the inscribed material from Buhen fortress by Harry Smith (1976, 11-12). The importance of the stela derives from the tentative identification by Smith of the figure wearing the white crown as a bearer of the “Ruler of Kush” (HqA n KS) title. This was a designation used by Apophis in the Kamose texts and by Egyptians living at Buhen in the late Second Intermediate Period to refer to the ruler/king of Kerma (Lacovara 1997, 72; Ryholt 1997, 326-327; Smith & Smith 1976, 68, fn. 51; Valbelle 2004, 177-178). 1 Based on this initial identification, the Ruler of Kush was recognised on two further stelae from the vicinity of Buhen (Figure 1b lower; Figure 1c). The culturalhistorical significance of these three Buhen stelae is

Smith’s identification of the figure on Stela 691 as a Kerman ruler has been accepted and is now the standard interpretation in surveys of Nubia with a broad chronological scope (Morkot 1999, 183-184; 2000, 68; Török 2009, 108; Williams 1991, 83), short catalogue entries for exhibitions on Nubian culture in which the stela is featured (i.e. Davies 2004, 100-101; Kendall 1996, 32-33; Wildung 1996, 100: Cat nr. 100), as well as by Valbelle in her careful analysis of iconographic material found at Kerma (Valbelle 2004, 176). 3 Some scholars have even taken the interpretation a step further and 2

For the absence of stone relief work generally at Kerma, see Reisner (1923, 22). Regarding the rarity of depictions of the human form at Kerma, Valbelle’s (2004, 177) comments are a suitable summary: “..we cannot prevent ourselves from being struck by the paucity of human or divine figuration at Kerma.” It has been suggested that a fragmentary clay figure and some incised human figures on ostrich shells found at Kerma could conceivably represent Kerman rulers or elites (i.e. Bonnet 1993, 10 fig. 13; 2004, 157 fig. 123, 160 fig. 126; Bonnet & Valbelle 2006, 185-186; Valbelle 2004, 176-177). 3 In Valbelle (2004, 176) the identification is seemingly accepted, but in Bonnet & Valbelle (2006, 184) we read “..während die HyksosHerrscher sich die Darstellungen der ägyptischen Könige widerrechtlich aneigneten, gibt es keinen Hinweis auf vergleichbare Praxis in Kerma.” Whether this implies that her opinion has changed, or that she considers Buhen 691 Egyptian, and not Kerman is unclear.

1

The title HqA n KS appears in two instances in the Buhen elite milieu of the late Second Intermediate Period in positions that hint that the Egyptians at Buhen served this ruler rather that the Theban king (i.e. Kubisch 2008, 86-88; 166-170; Lacovara 1997, 72; O’Connor 1993, 41; Säve-Söderbergh 1949; Smith 1976, 55; Zibelius-Chen 1988, 160-161).

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CHRISTIAN KNOBLAUCH posited that the striding figure can be identified with a particular Kerman ruler, namely NDH (Morkot 2000, 68, followed in Davies 2004, 101). The reason for this identification is that NDH is the name of the Kerman ruler whom the Egyptian KA, living at Buhen during the late Second Intermediate Period, claimed to have served on Khartoum Stela 18 (Säve-Söderbergh 1949, 55; Smith 1976, 41).

points the narrative stops and it is mostly in these silences between strands of argument that one must insert Emery and Smith’s experience, intuition, theoretical outlook and personally held values. This is clearly impossible and the case laid out below is therefore admittedly cobbled together.

Significantly, in lieu of any other clear iconographic evidence for a Kerman Ruler from the Kerma Classique, the Buhen group of stelae has been used to illustrate aspects of the nature of political power at Kerma during that phase. Stela 691 in particular, was used to demonstrate a number of different facets: the “Egyptianisation” of the Kerman ruler (Smith 1976, 85); the willingness of the Kerman ruler to “run his territory on the lines of an Egyptian principality” (Smith 1976, 85); the adoption of pharaonic “institutions” such as “kingship” by Nubians prior to the New Kingdom (Williams 1991); and finally an actual Kerman claim to the kingship of Southern Egypt and Nubia during the Second Intermediate Period (Kendall 1996, 32-33; Török 2009, 108-109).

At the basis of the original argument that a Nubian and not an Egyptian ruler is depicted on Stela 691 was the belief that Buhen 691 along with Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38 were produced by non-Egyptians. This idea was first printed in a preliminary report authored by Walter Emery two years after the excavation of Stela 691 and three years before Smith began his book on the inscriptions (Emery 1961a, 84-85; Smith 1976, viii nr. I for dates). The description of the stela there pre-empts Smith’s later conclusions: “The figure is in the conventional pose ... but its execution is undoubtedly native and we may hazard the guess that it is the work of a Nubian soldier or workman trying to copy an Egyptian model. As an example of borrowed art it is certainly unique” (Emery 1961a, 84-85).

While such speculations are interesting, they tend to downplay or ignore the doubt expressed by Smith himself regarding the identification: As Stela 691 is anonymous the proposal is “not of course easily susceptible to proof” (Smith 1976, 12). This is not to say that Smith did not support his theory with evidence. Indeed, art-historical, historical and archaeological arguments were all cited in support of the contention. These have been considered persuasive enough that no alternative avenues of interpretation have been explored. This paper has as its modest aim a reanalysis of these arguments. It concludes that while an identification of the figure on Stela 691 and associated Buhen stelae as Nubian rulers can never be ruled out, there is nothing in the stelae’s content or their archaeological context that suggests that this interpretation is the correct one. It concludes by highlighting the need to contextualise the Buhen stelae in larger groups of monuments with similar formats and scenes and to fully consider their probable function if a more plausible interpretation is to be proposed.

From the passage quoted above it is clear that in Emery’s view, an argument in favour of non-Egyptian manufacture for Buhen Stela 691 was the low level of expertise exhibited in the stela’s execution. This interpretation was echoed fifteen years later in Smith’s final publication of the stela where it was first cited as evidence of a non-Egyptian subject for the figure on Stela 691. There he stated: “There can be no doubt that this is not native Egyptian work” (Smith 1976, 11). Like Emery he nonetheless recognised the Egyptian origin of the motif and similarly suggested the stela was realised by a non-Egyptian craftsman who was “aping Egyptian work” (Smith 1976, 11, 84; c.f. Wildung 1996, 100). Of recent accounts of the stela, Török’s (2009, 108) is the only one that implicitly entertains the possibility that an Egyptian may have been responsible for its execution.

The Case for Non-Egyptian Manufacture

Perhaps due to the type of report in which his comments appeared, Emery did not further elucidate why the style precluded an Egyptian craftsman. In contrast, Smith refers to unusual features including the pose of the figure; the setting of the head on the neck; the detail of the crown; the detail of the uraeus and dress; the positions of the arms and the positions of the weapons (Smith 1976, 11). For both these scholars therefore, the level of craftsmanship ruled out an Egyptian craftsman and suggested a Nubian instead. Why should this be the case?

THE ARGUMENT Buhen 691 was just one of hundreds of inscribed monuments from Buhen published by Smith in the volume of Buhen inscriptions (Smith 1976). The space afforded to it and Buhen 732, a second stela on which the Nubian ruler was identified, as small, uninscribed monuments was understandably brief. The third stela with a Nubian ruler (Gebel Turob 38) was found near a rock-art/rock graffiti site west of the fortress and published ahead of the fortress material alongside the rock inscriptions (Smith 1972) with only a brief commentary. The argumentation was therefore necessarily brief, not all in one place and as a consequence, difficult to reconstruct: At a number of

From a theoretical perspective, the belief that differences in the quality of craftsmanship can be reduced to differences in the ethnicity or “race” of the craftsmen appears firmly grounded in what Bruce Trigger has termed the “culture-historical” approach to interpreting Nubian archaeological remains (Trigger 1994, 332-334). This approach, of which the work of George Reisner was paradigmatic, was based on the theory that changes in the racial composition of Nubia were responsible for changes

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The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period The Archaeological and Historical Contexts

observable in the archaeology (Trigger 1994, 333-334, also discussed in different terms by Adams 1976, 4-5). Arts of a “poor standard” were typically assigned to Nubians while “higher quality” artefacts were assigned to Egyptians. Emery`s outlook was very close to that of Reisner’s (Adams 1976, 4-5; Trigger 1994, 333-334) and it is therefore tempting to interpret Emory’s initial attribution of Stela 691 to a Nubian craftsman in light of this shared theoretical position.

Emery already implicitly linked the issue of the ethnic authorship of Stela 691 with the stela’s archaeological context in his preliminary report (Emery 1961a, 84): The stela was found in the vicinity of large Middle Kingdom houses which had been subdivided for use as smaller domiciles or as copper foundries (Emery 1961a, 84). Importantly this area yielded evidence for Nubians in the form of C-Group and Kerman pottery sherds. Emery hints that the owners of this pottery (a) were involved in the copper working and (b) responsible for the execution of Buhen Stela 691 (Emery 1961a, 84). Emery proposed two alternative identities for these Nubians: They were either squatters who occupied the abandoned fortress during the Second Intermediate Period, or they were Nubian soldiers in the New Kingdom garrison (Emery 1961, 84). The stela itself he dated to “not later than New Kingdom and probably earlier” (Emery 1961a, 85). These findings were of course only preliminary and later Emery identified the Nubians living in House G (where the stela was found) exclusively as part of a squatter population that occupied the fortress of Buhen after the end of the Middle Kingdom (Emery et al. 1979, 107). Stela 691 was attributed to this squatter population and dated to the Second Intermediate Period accordingly. Smith cites this evidence stating the “the area in which this stela was found yielded considerable evidence of occupation by Kerma-group people in the Late Second Intermediate Period” (Smith 1976, 12, also Wildung 1996, 100).

It would be wrong, however, to characterise Smith’s work on Buhen 691 in this same way as his volume on the inscriptions from Buhen is largely a rebuttal of this type of thinking. This is especially true of his work on the majority of the Second Intermediate Period inscriptions. This group was equally if not more “crude” than Buhen 691, exhibited anomalous orthographies, schematic and original palaeography and an adventurous disdain for proportional cannon. The rendering of the human body is particularly diverse and strict canonical forms cannot be discerned. 4 Despite this, Smith did not ascribe the stelae of this group to non-Egyptian manufacture or to nonEgyptian owners (Smith 1976, 67-68). Instead, almost without exception, these monuments were attributed to the local workshop tradition of the advanced Middle Kingdom or the Second Intermediate Period. Smith singled out this Egyptian workshop for its “incompetent mason’s work” (Smith 1976, 68). This poor quality work was not limited to lower status monuments. Noteworthy in this regard is Pennsylvania University Stela 10984 (Smith 1976, 55-56, pl. LXXII). It was made at the behest of spd Hr.w, “Commander of Buhen” during the late Second Intermediate Period (Smith 1976, 67-68, 78-79) but is of a very “crude quality”. Even royal monuments were not exempt as the “rough” Horus temple gateway executed for Ahmose demonstrates (see below).

It appears that it was Smith who first contextualised Stela 691 and its find spot in Emery’s reconstruction of events at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period. In doing so, he came to the conclusion that a Nubian and not an Egyptian ruler was depicted. According to this particular narrative, the Nubian squatter population responsible for the production of Buhen Stela 691 had occupied the fort after it had been partially destroyed at the end of the Middle Kingdom. This event resulted in the evacuation of the fort by the Egyptians, with the exception of a family of Egyptian expatriates who ran the fortress along Egyptian lines, but did so at the behest of the “Ruler of Kush”. In this context it is logical that a Nubian living at Buhen would make an image of a Nubian and not an Egyptian ruler.

As Smith was well aware, the situation was not sitespecific but indicative of Egypt generally during this period where a combination of high demand for inscribed objects at a local level and the dearth of highly trained craftsmen resulted in regional styles that differed greatly from the high Middle Kingdom canon. Taking this background into account, the attribution of Buhen Stela 691 to a Nubian craftsman seems arbitrary and intuitive. It is also clear that other factors played a significant role. These include the stela’s archaeological context and the historical narrative of Buhen fortress during the Second Intermediate Period.

Problems with the Archaeological Context

Historical

Narrative

and

It is well known that the larger sequence of events proposed by Emery for Nubia during the Second Intermediate Period is no longer valid. This has been amply demonstrated by Tyson Smith (1995; 2003, 80-81). I do not wish to repeat his results here as they do not directly contradict the key aspects for this paper that a) the Egyptians living at Buhen served the ruler of Kush; and b) that Nubians were probably also living in small numbers at the Egyptian forts. Tyson-Smith’s work, however, has clearly demonstrated that ethnicities, which were treated very intuitively by Emery and Smith, are

4

Compare for example Buhen 262 (K7-125): Smith (1976, 5-6, pl. I, 1, LVII, 1); Buhen 263 (K7-126): Smith (1976, pl. I, 2, LVII, 2); Buhen 451 (J7-130): Smith (1976 7, pl. I, 4); Buhen 500 (J7-171): Smith (1976, 9, pl. II C); Buhen 964 (L10-18): Smith (1976, 15 pl. IV, 6); Buhen 1569 (J9-37): Smith (1976, 19 pl. VII, 2); Buhen 1708 (K10-47): Smith (1976, 20, pl. VII, 4, LX, 1); Khartoum 18: Smith (1976, 41); Khartoum 364: Smith (1976, pl. LXX, 1); Khartoum 365: Smith (1976, 43-44, pl. LXX, 2); Khartoum 366: Smith (1976, 44-45, pl. LXX, 3); Khartoum 370: Smith (1976, 46, pl. LXX, 4); Khartoum 371: Smith (1976, 46-47, pl. LXXI, 1); Khartoum 5320: Smith (1976, 47-48, pl. LXXI, 2); Philadelphia E10983: Smith (1976, 54-44, pl. LXXI, 4, 2); Philadelphia E10894: Smith (1976, 55-56, pl. LXXII, 1); Pennsylvania University E10989: Smith (1976, 56-58 pl. LXXII, 2); Philadelphia, No. Unknown: Smith (1976, 59-60, pl. LXXII, 4).

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CHRISTIAN KNOBLAUCH observation does not help to date the stela to a specific historical period. Changes in material culture can rarely be correlated absolutely with discreet historical divisions. Thus a distinct departure from the strict Middle Kingdom carving standards is observable well before the end of the 13th Dynasty as a small stela of the 13th Dynasty King Wagef from Mirgissa fortress demonstrates (Mirgissa Stela IM.375, see Vercoutter 1975, pl. 22a). Similarly, stone carving in the Second Intermediate Period tradition was still being produced in the early New Kingdom well after the reconquest of Buhen fortress by Kamose (Smith & Smith 1976, 67-68; Ryholt 1997, 181-182 for the date of this event). This is most clearly observable in the workmanship on the gateway for the Horus temple at Buhen that was erected for Turi the “Commander of Buhen” during the reign of Ahmose (Smith 1976, pl. LXXX). This is an excellent indication, as noted by Smith (1976, 207), that the Buhen craftsmen probably survived the political transition to Egyptian rule that took place at the end of the Second Intermediate Period and found employment with the fortress’ new commanders. The implication of this for the dating range of Stela 691 is clear. While a Second Intermediate Period production date certainly cannot be ruled out, neither can a date in the advanced Middle Kingdom or the Early New Kingdom.

extremely complex: Ascribing motivations, political allegiances and behaviour to individuals who were not visible in the archaeological record but for some pottery sherds is extremely problematic. Additionally, some specific problems relating to the find context of Stela 691 can be listed. According to the final report, the stela was found in the West Wall Street in close proximity to the entrance to House G in sector C. A staircase had been built against the external face of the house during a phase of renovation. The staircase was built slightly above the existing Middle Kingdom pavement level and was associated with C-Group and Kerman sherds (Emery1979, 63). Stela 691 was found at the level of and immediately in the vicinity of the steps (1979, 63) suggesting it was of the same relative date as the secondary alterations and coeval with the Nubian sherds. The Nubian material was dated to the Second Intermediate Period. There are some details, however, that detract from the usefulness of this information. Firstly, hardly any evidence that would allow for a confirmation of the ethnic attribution (i.e. Kerman, C-Group or Pan-Grave), the quantification or the chronological evaluation of the “Nubian” material was published. 5 Secondly, a close reading of the archaeological report suggests that the deposits in which Buhen 691 were found primarily belonged to a debris layer in which there was no clear undisturbed stratigraphy (Emery et al. 1979, 63-64). This of course means that the dating and cultural attribution of the Nubian sherds is irrelevant as they may not have been deposited at the same time as the stela or have been contemporary with the construction of the staircase. Nor is there any indication that the stela was in, or near its primary context. Smith in his chapter on Buhen in the Middle Kingdom and the Second Intermediate Period notes that none of the Buhen fortress stelae were found “in their original situations. They were found scattered about the streets and buildings of the town in disturbed and unstratified debris. Obviously in late times, as so often in the Nile valley, the ancient site had been used as a source of dressed stone” (Smith 1976, 66). Given this problem, is it not conceivable that the stela was originally displayed somewhere else entirely (possibly even outside the fortress) and only moved to its find spot through some unknowable secondary process? This would mean that the relationship between the stela and Nubian pottery sherds was an indirect one.

In summary, there is considerable uncertainty concerning the dating and interpretation of the archaeological context in which the stela was found. This and the methodological problems outlined above make the case for a Kerma ruler on Buhen Stela 691 extremely tenuous and it should probably be rejected.

DEPICTIONS OF THE RULER OF KUSH ON OTHER MONUMENTS FROM BUHEN The identification of the Ruler of Kush on other monuments at Buhen was based largely on the premise that this ruler was depicted on Buhen 691. If the latter argument is rejected, the case for the other two stelae is weakened considerably. It is nonetheless germane to briefly review the evidence. The first stela is Buhen 732 (H8-14), a small sandstone stela only 12.5cm in height (Figure 1b; Smith 1976, 1213, pl. III: 7, LIX: 1-2). Unusually it is inscribed on two sides. If both sides were not displayed simultaneously, it may indicate that usurpation or secondary use of the stone. The figure, sometimes identified as a ruler of Kush is shown on the reverse (Figure 1b lower) and probably belongs to the second phase of use. The scene includes two signs. The first (to the left of scene) is the outline of a standing figure facing the right, which has been recognised as a ruler wearing an Upper Egyptian crown and a long false beard. For the “same reasons” (Smith 1976, 12-13) as for Stela 691, this figure has been identified as a “Ruler of Kush”. In front of this figure is a pair of legs, possibly belonging to an unfinished figure (Smith 1976, 12-13). This sign faces the same direction

It hardly needs to be noted that without archaeological context the dating of the monument is extremely difficult and dating it precisely to the period when the Egyptians from Buhen served the Ruler of Kush is impossible. Although it was noted above that the style of execution of 691 recalls the local workshop “tradition” particularly characteristic of the Second Intermediate Period, this 5 Only one of the sherds from the vicinity of the stairs has been published (Nubian Type 7), while the remainder are not listed according to levels but instead are simply assigned to the convolute of House G (Emery et al. 1979, 64).

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The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period as the larger figure. 6 The obverse (Figure 1b upper) shows a standard depiction of an Egyptian soldier wearing a feather (i.e. Säve-Söderbergh 1941, 132) and a captive. The scene is known from other Egyptian objects from Lower Nubia (i.e. Wegner 1995) and may have served as the model for the inscription on the reverse (Smith 1976, 12).

particular, one would expect an Egyptian royal monument to include the name of at least the king. This oversight places it outside the mainstream of Egyptian stela for the Middle Kingdom to Second Intermediate Period and increases the impression of its alien nature. Indeed, Török has commented that “the absence of an inscription on the stela points towards the influence of a different cultural tradition and reinforces the identification of the royal figure as a ruler of Kush” (Török 2009, 108; see also Williams 1984-85, 45).

The other stela with an apparent ruler, Gebel Turob 38 is only circa 15cm high and roughly shaped of red Nubian sandstone (Figure 1c; Smith 1972, 50-51, fig. 11:3). The display surface evidently bears the same type of scene as the obverse of Buhen 732, namely a solder and a trussed captive. The soldier in this case, however was tentatively identified as wearing a white crown and is thus cited as a possible further parallel to the ruler figures on Buhen 691 and the reverse of Buhen 732 (Smith 1972, 50-51).

The second part of this paper is aimed at resolving precisely this issue by an examination of the potential function of Buhen Stela 732 (Figure 1b upper) and Gebel Turob 38. It is argued that if a plausible function can be proposed for these two stelae within a purely Egyptian cultural context, there is less motivation to seek nonEgyptian influence for the format of Buhen 691. The reasons why Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob are the subject of the investigation and not Buhen 691 directly are twofold. Firstly, although still wanting in clarity, the context for at least one of these stelae provides a starting point for a discussion of the type of context in which it might have been displayed. Secondly, unlike for Buhen 691, there are parallels for Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38 that provide a solid basis for an analysis of the function of the latter. This, it must be stressed, does not automatically mean that Stela 691 had the same function as these stones, merely, that the impulse for its creation originated in an Egyptian, and not a Nubian cultural tradition.

To the observer, the identification of the white crowns in both scenes is not without difficulties: The execution of the scene on the reverse of 732 is extremely schematic and coarse and one wonders whether one should read too much into the final (or perhaps preliminary) product. If indeed the scene was inspired by the soldier and captive scene on the obverse, it seems just as likely that the downward slanting stroke is not the white crown and false beard of a ruler, but the feather and beard of the Egyptian soldier. They were perhaps “hieratisized” and combined with the soldier’s left arm. In the case of Gebel Turob 38, both the size and nature of the inscription cause difficulties for its interpretation. The individual signs are ca. 6cm in height and the height of the crown, the disputed element, is only ca. 1.5cm. Compounding this, the style of execution is very schematic and other details of the scene, for example the weapon, are so simply rendered as to be unidentifiable. Hence, the safer solution is to assume that the crown is in fact the feather commonly worn in a head band by soldiers as clearly depicted on the obverse of Buhen 732 (Figure 1b upper). Finally, it may be pointed out that unlike the figure on Stela 691 who wears a Uraeus appended to the crown and is thus clearly of royal status, neither of the figures from these two other stelae display any other elements of royal iconography apart from the contested headdress. In both cases an identification of the ruler figure as a soldier is preferable.

Context of Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38

In addition to the reasons outlined above for the belief that Buhen stelae 691, 732 and Gebel Turob were Kerman monuments, one can add the stelae’s format. It is “clearly” awkward due to the absence of any readable inscription that helps to explain the identity of the figure or the function of the stones.7 In the case of Stela 691 in

Like Buhen 691, Buhen 732 was found in unstratified debris inside the fortress itself, specifically in the debris of Block C, House C (Smith 1976, 12). Its context, in this regard is not helpful. In contrast, Gebel Turob 38 was picked up on a high hill ca. 300m south-west of the fortress (Smith 1972, 50, pl. XXIII for location of the Gebel). Unfortunately the piece was lying loose and its original context could not be reconstructed. The Gebel Turob, however, was used as a cemetery during the late Second Intermediate Period and the New Kingdom. This fact and the chance that the stela could have originally derived from one of the graves there is tentatively cited as a reason for its presence in this lonely location (Smith 1972, 50). In this case we would have to imagine the stela in either a mortuary or funerary context, possibly functioning as a votive or a focal point for offering activity. While such an interpretation is just conceivable, it is not easily reconcilable with either the image on the stela or the total absence of any ancillary inscriptions. Tellingly, Gebel Turob had another, earlier function attested to by numerous graffiti left there by untitled Egyptians of the Middle Kingdom (Smith 1972). At this

6 As such the sign is not completely dissimilar to Gardiner sign W25 as sometimes found in rock graffiti and common in the personal name In (i.e. Žaba 1974, Palaeography Sign List W25:77). 7 Whether inscriptions, had originally been added in paint to the surface in the case of stela 691 is unknown. Davies (2004, 100-101) notes in the

catalogue entry for this stone in an exhibition at the British Museum that the figure had originally been painted. The only traces mentioned are in relation to the body and the kilt and the crown that were coloured red and white respectively. It is possible that further details, now lost, were originally added in paint.

INTERPRETATION AND AND GEBEL TUROB 38

FUNCTION OF BUHEN 732

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CHRISTIAN KNOBLAUCH Nr. 92), it was found by locals to the east of Argin, a locale ca. 7.5-10km downstream of the fortress of Buhen (Nordström 1962, map facing page 12). Hereafter it is referred to as the Argin Stela.

time the elevation was probably used as a military watch post for small groups of soldiers and scribes. Their likely tasks were to relay messages between Buhen fortress and Kor and to keep watch for Nubians on the BuhenMirgissa-Semna road that skirted the western river bank (Smith 1967, 56). If a cemetery existed at Buhen at this time, it was within the fortress enclosure walls (Cemetery K) or north of the fortress in Cemetery H (Knoblauch 2007, 191-193). Taking into account both the military theme of the inscription of Gebel Turob 38 and the use of the elevation where it was found by the military during the Middle Kingdom, it is easier to imagine the function of Stela 38 related in some way to this activity.

The second stela with a comparable scene and layout to that on Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38 is Cairo Jd’E 68759 (Figure 3; Engelbach 1938, 389, pl. LV:3). It was picked up on the return journey to Aswan by the 1930 Engelbach-Murray mission to the Gebel el-Asr quarries west of Toshka in Lower Nubia. The stela was found in the desert ca. 20km south west of Aswan: Engelbach noted in an addendum that it was lying face down next to a caravan route that leads from Aswan to Kurkur Oasis (Engelbach 1938, 390 Addendum). The round topped, sandstone stela (height 68cm) is devoid of decoration or inscriptions with the exception of the small motif of a soldier with a bow leading a trussed captive in the stela’s upper half. Above the figures is the inscription “Year 18” (Engelbach 1938, 389). Hereafter this stela is referred to as the Aswan Stela. Concerning the find context of the first stela, it is interesting that this stretch of river in the vicinity of Argin had no Middle Kingdom pharaonic sites. It did, however, have a number of C-Group cemeteries that point to a fairly substantial local Nubian population during the Middle Kingdom (Nordström 1962, 13-14). One can suppose that the stela originally marked an Egyptian boundary in relation to these peoples as suggested by Wildung (1996, 84). The location of the second stela on the road to Aswan makes a function as a type of boundary stone for this stone likely as well (in this direction c.f. Engelbach 1938, 389). Returning to the Buhen stelae we can note that one was found on a mountain west of the fortress at Buhen, close to a military watch post and a route that led from Buhen fortress westwards deep into the desert.8 The other was found in Buhen fortress itself. Therefore, the most obvious solution is to assume that both the Buhen stones were also boundary stelae used by the Egyptians to mark borders, territories or routes in Nubia.

Figure 2 Khartoum National Museum 14221 (Inking by  author after photo in Wildung 1996, 85).  Parallels and their Find Contexts

Border Stones in Lower Nubia

Such an explanation is supported by the find spots of two further stelae with comparable scenes to the last that have been found in Lower Nubia. The first of these, Khartoum National Museum 14221, is a well-executed, medium sized (45.8cm), round topped sandstone stela (Figure 2). Its rounded lunette bears an inscription naming “Horus Lord of Foreign Lands, the Great God, the Lord of the Sky”. This deity was closely related to Horus of Buhen and may have had a cult at Buhen during the late Middle Kingdom and the Second Intermediate Period (SäveSöderbergh 1949, 51, C; Smith 1976, 234). The lower register is devoted entirely to a scene of a soldier and kneeling captive. While differing in minor details it reproduces essentially the same content and format of both the stelae from Buhen (Wildung 1996, 84-85 cat. Nr. 92 and literature cited there). The stela has been dated to the Middle Kingdom-Second Intermediate Period (Wildung 1996, 84). According to Wildung (1996, 84 Cat.

The practice of erecting border stones to legally delineate internal and external boundaries was a key aspect of Middle Kingdom policy (Eyre 1990, 138-142; Habachi 1975; Helck 1977b; Helck 1977c, 896; MüllerWollerman 1996, 9-16; Murnane & Van Siclen III 1993; Quirke 1989). Such stones functioned as “physical manifestations of declared policy” (Eyre 1990, 138) with practical and legal implications for administration as well as customs and immigration in the case of external boundaries (Murnane & Van Siclen 1993). The fixing of borders with the help of border stones was also an important literary topos in Middle Kingdom texts as it 8 Buhen appears to have been the riverside endpoint to a major desert road that left the main gate of the outer enclosure and continued for at least six miles into the desert (Emery 1971, 96). The destination of the road remains unknown.

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The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period to penetrate to the Nile Valley during dry phases (c.f. Bietak 1982, 1003 drawing on the evidence of the Semna Despatches). The organisation of these borders required not only personnel located in strategic positions, but probably also formal border markers, similar to the Semna stelae that showed where these boundaries were. It is proposed that the stelae with soldier and captive motif fulfilled this function.

was concerned with extending and maintaining “social or even cosmic order” (Eyre 1990, 140). The most famous of this type of monument were the border stones erected at Semna in Year 8 and at Semna and Uronarti in Year 16 of the reign of Senwosret III. These publically marked the border (tAS) between Egyptian territory and the kingdom of Kush and set out the terms of engagement between Egyptian and Nubians at the most-southern Nubian border (i.e. Eyre 1990; Meurer 1996; Seidlmayer 2001). Of foremost importance was the establishment of a firm border which Nubians could pass only under strict conditions (Eyre 1990; Meurer 1996, 10-27).

Content The interpretation of this group of stelae as border markers is supported by the motif common to all four stelae (and thus the essential element) that arguably depicts the physical act of border maintenance (see below). While in theory any Egyptian soldier could and probably did perform this duty (i.e. the Argin and Aswan stelae) the stelae Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38 interestingly specify soldiers wearing feathers in their head bands. Soldiers with identical iconography also occur on stamp seals from the fortified settlement at Areika in Lower Nubia where they were originally believed to be the representation of a local Nubian chief. Wegner (1995 147; c.f. Säve-Söderbergh 1941, 133 Abb.12), however, has conclusively demonstrated that it instead refers to aHAwtyw, a specific type of professionally trained Egyptian soldier (Faulkner 1941, 40). The Semna Despatches provide us with some information relating to the activities of these specialist troops. According to Despatches 2, 3 and 4 from the Egyptian fortresses at Mirgissa and Serra East (Smither 1945, 7-8, pl. IIIA: Lines 3, 9; pl. IVA Lines 8, 9), aHAwtyw were employed in the patrolling of the deserts around the fortresses. Their chief concern appears to have been the discovery and tracking of Nubians illegally entering or traversing what was considered Egyptian territory. 10 In modern terms, we might call them border police. This type of activity inevitably involved the taking of Nubian prisoners, thus the iconography of the aHAwtyw on the stelae and stamp seals that stressed this aspect of their profession in Lower Nubia (see also Wegner 1995, 147). In this regard, the use of the motif on the stelae is highly appropriate and could be considered a type of double warning to potential border crossers: Firstly, that the stone marked a border (i.e. the territory patrolled by the aHAwtyw or a generic Egyptian soldier in the case of the Argin Stela and the Aswan Stela); and secondly, it clearly sets out to Nubians the type of treatment they could expect should they illegally enter into Egyptian space (also Engelbach 1938, 38; Meurer 1996, 4, 24-26; Wildung 1996, 84).

Figure 3 Cairo Jd’E 68759 (Schematic inking by author  after Engelbach 1938, pl. LV (3)).9  But the southern boundary was not the only border in Lower Nubia that needed to be defined and regulated. In fact, it was probably necessary to define the eastern and western margins of Egyptian territory throughout Lower Nubia as well as internal divisions. Such borders (tAS) were obviously not customary, but had been imposed unilaterally (Quirke 1989, 263). They overrode preexisting patterns of indigenous land ownership and landuse, affecting access to traditional grazing lands along the desert margins or in the desert itself, as well as to customary routes that previously connected river-based communities with each other and with the adjacent desert regions for the purposes of communication and trade. Such extensive borders were no doubt routinely contested, not only by sedentary groups settled near the river and desert margins, but also by semi-nomadic, desert-based Nubians west of the Nile (c.f. Seidlmayer 2002, 93 fn. 7) and by ‘Medjay’ Nubians in the Eastern desert who tried

A second function worth considering is whether the stelae, by way of their inscriptions, possessed apotropaically generated magical power used in the defence of Egypt’s borders (i.e. Meurer 1996, 28-30). The iconography and 10 The presence of aHAwtyw at Buhen fortress is demonstrated by stampsealings bearing the name of aHAwtyw units found at the fortress (i.e. Randall-MacIver & Woolley 1911, pl. 42; Smith 1976, pl. XLVIII; Wegner 1995, 147).

9 Note that the writing of rnpt and the sign between the two standing figures are particularly uncertain.

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CHRISTIAN KNOBLAUCH reconstruction, the importance of the lower field and the depiction of the captive Nubians for the stela’s overall message can no longer be doubted. Interestingly, Meurer came to precisely the same conclusions regarding the meaning of these figures for the border stone as the present author did for the soldiers and captive figures on the Lower Nubian group. He posited that they complemented the text in the upper portions and were intended as a warning for non-Egyptians who were unable to read the text and as an apotropaic device akin to execration magic intended to secure the borders (Meurer 1996, 30).

treatment of the defeated enemy on the stelae certainly call to mind three dimensional figurines or statuettes of Nubians used in execration rituals (Meurer 1996, 28-30; Wildung 1996, 85). Such figurines were depicted as kneeling and bound. These actions were intended to identify the figure as an enemy, but one that had been rendered harmless through hostile restraint (Ritner 1993, 142-144). Execration rituals utilising this type of figurine were performed at Egypt’s boundaries in Nubia, for example at Mirgissa (i.e. Vila 1963, 147; for Uronarti see Dunham 1967, pl. XXXI. c-e). It has been argued that their buried remains constituted an integral component of the state’s southern defensive system at the Second Cataract (Wildung 1996, 85). It is tempting to imagine that the stelae bearing depictions of defeated Nubians had a similar function and were placed at strategic points in Lower Nubia as part of an extended network of protective magic that sealed Egyptian territory against the force of Isfet. This of course complements, rather than replaces the stelae’s function as instruments of practical border demarcation. The Relationship with the Semna Boundary Stelae Although clearly a different calibre of monument, comparisons with the Semna border stelae are useful for investigating in what ways, if any the stelae being discussed here are related to the larger Semna stelae.11 A consideration of the so-called Smaller Semna Stela (Figure 4; Berlin 14743; Meurer 1996, Loeben 2002) erected at the southern boundary with Kush by Senwosret III in Year 8 is particularly illuminating. A brief review of its format and content suggest that the Lower Nubian group could be considered miniaturised versions of this type of monument. However, they had been reduced to display only certain pieces of information relevant to the context in which they were displayed and the audience for whom they were intended.

Figure 4 Smaller Semna Stela (Berlin 14743) (after  Loeben 2001, Abbildung 1).  There is an obvious similarity between the content and design of the lower part of the Smaller Semna Stela and the content and designs of Buhen Stela 732, Gebel Turob 38 and the Argin 13 and Aswan stelae. Hence it is justifiable to propose that the latter were in fact intended to reproduce the information and format of this part of the smaller Semna stela. The reason why the text in the upper half of the Smaller Semna Stela is omitted is obvious: whereas this stela (wD) is the manifestation and record of a royal command (wD) in an important fortress populated by Egyptians, the stelae of the Lower Nubian Group were to be placed in isolated locations where the intended audience were illiterate Nubians for whom only the information of the lower half of the stela could have any meaning.

In its current state, the Smaller Semna Stela is 83cm high and consists of a small lunette, six horizontal lines of text and a narrow space at the bottom of the stela (i.e. Meurer 1996, 3). As pointed out by Meurer, the stela when found by Lepsius originally had an 82cm high field below the text field that stretched to the bottom of the stela (Meurer 1996, Tafel 5). It had been removed by Lepsius at Semna who thought the field empty (Loeben 2001, 279-281). New facsimiles made by Müller (in Meurer 1996, Tafel 1) and Loeben (2001, Abb. 1) show that the small extant section of this field in fact bears the representation of three kneeling Nubian captives. These appear to float in the space of the field and were not accompanied by any further text. Loeben has suggested that the (now lost) bottom section contained further captive figures, but this is of course difficult to prove (Loeben 2001, 279-281, Abb. 3). 12 Regardless of the correctness of the

empty, presumably to enable the stela to be set in the ground (Habachi 1975, 34, 35 fig. 5). If the Semna stela was also intended to be set in the ground, presumably part of the stela base would have been invisible. 13 The formal similarity of the representation of the Nubian captives on the stela to the Nubian captive on (them unpublished) Khartoum stela 14221 has already been noted (Meurer 1996, 29) although the significance of this was overlooked (Meurer 1996, 30 fn. 30).

11

The larger of the Semna border stones was probably erected in connection with offering chapels for the royal cult (Seidlmayer 2000, 233-242; 2001, 32-34) and an exhortation for the descendents of the king to maintain the border. 12 Note that the lower half of a similar boundary stela dating to the reign of Senwosret I from Karnak (Cairo JE 88802) was left completely

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The Ruler of Kush (Kerma) at Buhen during the Second Intermediate Period meaning of the information they communicate can be difficult to grasp. This, of course, they have in common with the Lower Nubian Group.

Some additional features of the Lower Nubian Group suggest further areas of overlap between this group and the Semna Boundary stelae. The first is the year date ‘18’ on the Aswan Stela. As it stands without further explanation it is difficult to interpret what precisely this date refers to. Nonetheless, it seems plausible that it is a reflection of the practice documented on both the smaller and larger Semna stelae to refer to the year in which the border was being established or renewed (c.f. Seidlmayer 2001, 20, back cover; also Helck 1977b, 897 for other cases). The Argin Stela provides one further point of overlap with the Semna border stelae: The reference to a sky god in its lunette transposes the practical issue of border protection onto the celestial plain and frames it as an issue of divine concern (Wildung 1996, 84-85). In doing so it mirrors the depiction of the sky god BHdty in the lunette on the Semna Year 16 border stela of Senwosret III (c.f. Barta 1974, 54). That it is Horus Lord of Foreign Lands and not BHdty who is named on the Argin Stela points to the importance of the local god in this endeavour. It could also reflect the engagement of troops stationed at Buhen in patrolling the area. It is interesting that none of the other border stelae exhibit this detail of the Argin Stela. Evidently it was a non-essential element. Its inclusion on the Argin Stela, arguably the best of the group, may point to its origin in a specialist workshop or to an occasion when highly trained craftsmen were present at Buhen or Faras. The other Buhen stelae in contrast were simply made and show less formal similarities to the Semna stelae. This perhaps implies that they were made on demand by whoever was at hand.

CONCLUSION The preceding discussion provides one explanation for the appearance and function of Buhen Stela 732 (Figure 1b upper) and Gebel Turob 38 (Figure 1c). It is argued that rather than a new type of royal monument for the Ruler of Kush, the stones were used to mark out borders by the Egyptian army in Lower Nubia. This interpretation is partially based on reference to a parallel that has already been identified as a border stone by Wildung (1996). The only originality of this contribution is the realisation that Buhen Stela 732 and Gebel Turob 38 are probably also to be considered border stones allowing for a broader appraisal of the iconography, display context and systemic functionality of these stones based on a larger corpus of material. Importantly, the preceding discussion shows that it is not necessary to seek outside the Egyptian cultural tradition for the inspiration that led to the creation of the unique format of Buhen Stela 691. This does not necessarily imply that Buhen 691 had the same function as Buhen 732 and Gebel Turob 38. However, when one considers the emblematic nature of the ruler figure and its reduction to a purely symbolic function, such a proposal is worthy of consideration. The image of the fully armed pharaoh ready to strike15 lends itself splendidly to the subject of a border stela16 and echoes the rhetoric of the Great Semna Stela (trans. Lichtheim 1973, 119 Lines 14-21;), the Cycle of Hymns to Senwosret III (trans. Lichtheim 1973, 198 Hymn I Line 1) and other Middle Kingdom texts that thematise the king as the establisher and protector of Egypt’s borders (Quirke 1989, 262-265; Eyre 1990, 140142).

Finally, it remains to be pointed out that there is a Middle Kingdom precedent for the makers of inscribed border stones reducing complex information down to essential basics. These are namely small monuments that were probably used to mark houses (Fischer 1961b; 1980; Helck 1977b, 897) and building plots (Kemp 2006, 195). 14 Like the Lower Nubian group, these border markers were generally round-topped, and realised in a format that rarely exceeded 30cm in height. Their inscriptions are concise and to the point. While these sometimes included personal names, determinatives, epithets and religious formulas were avoided reinforcing their secular function. Often large areas of the display surface are left empty. Their meaning, undoubtedly derived in part from the context in which they were displayed, must have been clear enough to their intended audience. For modern observers, who mostly only have the stripped down inscriptions to go by, the precise

15 Wilkinson’s (1987; 1991; 1994) views regarding the motif of the reversed bow are interesting but not persuasive. Rather the pose of the ruler calls to mind regular soldier imagery of the Old Kingdom (Fischer 1968, 133, fig. 33 nr. 3), the First Intermediate Period (i.e. Fischer 1961; 1964), the Middle Kingdom (i.e. Newberry 1893, pl. XIII; SäveSöderbergh 1941, 133 Abb.12; Wegner 1995, fig. 10) and the Second Intermediate Period (W. S. Smith 1981, 223:219). It may be remarked that the pose of the king on Buhen 691 is almost identical to that of the Goddess ‘Victorious Thebes’ on a Second Intermediate Period royal stela (Vernus 1982, pl. I; Ryholt 1997, 202 Table 42, lit. 388), the only difference being that the king on Buhen 691 appears to be captured midsmite. 16 Both Thutmosis I and III appear as lions on the Hagr el-Merwa border markings at Kurgus (Davies 2001, 46-52). Although the iconography is different to the cases being discussed here, the effect is much the same. Anonymous depictions of kings similar in design to the figure on stela 691 that possibly date to the Old Kingdom occur in remote desert regions such as on ‘Radjedef’s Mountain’ 100km south east of Balat (i.e. Kuhlmann 2002, 136-137 fig. 9) as well as near the Korosko bend in Lower Nubia (Basch & Gorbea 1968, fig. 160 (opposite page 168)). These types of inscriptions have been interpreted as marking an Egyptian claim to a part of a foreign land (Kuhlmann 2002, 136), and thus could also be understood as a type of border marking.

14 Some important, mostly Middle Kingdom published examples are BM 59205 (Fischer 1980, fig. 1, round topped, height 18cm); JE 47261 (Fischer 1980, fig. 2, round topped stela, height 22cm, Lahun); UCL 10712 (Fischer 1961b, 107, round topped, height 18cm, provenance?); UCL 16047, (Trope, Quirke & Lacovara 2005, 62:47, round topped stela, height 14cm, from Lahun). See also an unnumbered stela allegedly from Toshka West (Simpson 1963, fig. 41 round topped, 21cm high); For nb smnw as a personal name see Smith (1976, 46). For the relationship of the Smaller Semna Stela to such monuments see Eyre (1990, 136-137) and literature cited there. See Berger (1934) for field markers of the New Kingdom which were also presumably similar to the last.

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CHRISTIAN KNOBLAUCH Emery, W. B. 1965. Egypt in Nubia. London: Hutchinson & Co.

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Newberry, P. 1893. Beni Hasan. Part 1. London: Egypt Exploration Fund.

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Quirke, S. 1989. ‘Frontier or Border? The Northeast Delta in Middle Kingdom texts’. In Proceedings of Colloquium ‘The Archaeology, Geography and the History of the Egyptian Delta in Pharaonic Times’. Discussions in Egyptology Special Number 1, 261-275.

Kuhlmann, K. P. 2002. ‘The “Oasis Bypath” or The Issue of Desert Trade in Pharaonic Times’. In Tides of the Desert- Gezeiten der Wüste. Contributions to the Archaeology and Environmental History of Africa in Honour of Rudolph Kuper, edited by Lenssen-Erz, T. et al. Africa Praehistorica 14. Köln: Heinrich-Barth-Institut für Archäologie und Geschichte Afrikas, 125-170.

Randall-MacIver, D; Leonard Woolley, C. 1911. Buhen. Text. Eckley B. Coxe Junior Expedition to Nubia Vol. VII. Philadelphia: University Museum. Reisner, G. 1923. Excavations at Kerma Parts IV-V. Harvard African Studies Volume VI. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Peabody Museum of Harvard University.

Lacovara, P. 1997. ‘Egypt and Nubia during the Second Intermediate Period’. In The Hyksos: New Historical and Archaeological Perspectives, edited by Oren. E. University Museum Monographs 98. Philadelphia: The University Museum, 69-83.

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Lichtheim, M. 1973. Ancient Egyptian Literature. A Book of Readings. Volume I: The Old and Middle Kingdoms. Berkeley; Los Angeles; London: University of California Press.

Ryholt, K. 1997. The Political Situation in Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period, c. 1800-155 B.C. Carsten Niebuhr Institute Publications Volume 20. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press.

Loeben, C. 2001. ‘Bemerkungen zur sogenannten “Kleinen Semna-Stela” (Berlin 14753)’. In Begegnungen. Antike Kulturen im Niltal. Festgabe für Erika Endesfelder, Karl-Heinz Priese, Walter Friedrich Reineke, Steffen Wenig von Schülern und Mitarbeitern, edited by Arnst, C-B; Hafemann, I; Lohwasser, A. Leipzig: Verlag Wodtke und Stegbauer, 273-284.

Säve-Söderbergh, T. 1941. Ägypten und Nubien. Lund: Ohlsson. Säve-Söderbergh, T. 1949. ‘A Buhen Stela from the Second Intermediate Period (Khartūm No. 18)’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 35: 50-58.

Meurer, G. 1996. Nubier in Ägypten bis zum Beginn des Neuen Reiches. Zur Bedeutung der Stela Berlin 14753. Abhandlungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo, Ägyptologische Reihe 13. Berlin: Achet Verlag.

Seidlmayer, S. J. 2002. ‘Nubier im ägyptischen Kontext im Alten und Mittlerem Reich’. In Akkulturation und Selbstbehauptung. Beiträge des Kolloquiums am 14.12.2001, edited by Leder, S. Orientwissenschaftliche Hefte 4; Mitteilungen des SFB „Differenz und Integration“ 2. Halle: Centre for Oriental Studies, 89-113.

Morkot, R. 1999. ‘Kingship and Kinship in the Empire of Kush’. In Studien zum antiken Sudan. Akten der 7. Internationalen Tagung für meroitische Forschungen vom 14. Bis 19. September 1992 in Gosen/bei Berlin, edited by Wenig, S. Meroitica 15. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 179-229.

Seidlmayer, S. J. 2001. Pharao setzt die Grenzen. Textanalyse zwischen traditioneller Philologie und elektronischen Medien. Eine Ausstellung der BerlinBrandenburgischen Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbeitz. Begleitheft zur Ausstellung. Leipzig: Arbeitsstelle Altägyptisches Wörterbuch; Ägyptisches Museum der Universität Leipzig.

Morkot, R. 2000. The Black Pharaohs. Egypt’s Nubian Rulers. London: Rubicon.

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Simpson, W. K. 1963. Heka-Nefer and the Dynastic Material from Toshka and Arminna. Publications of the Pennsylvania-Yale Expedition to Egypt 1. New Haven; Philadelphia: Peabody Museum of Natural History of Yale University; The University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania.

Vila, A. 1963. ‘Un dépôt de textes d’envoûtement au Moyen Empire’. Journal des Savants: 136-160. Wegner, J. 1995. ‘The Function and History of the site of Areika’. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 32: 127-160.

Smith, H. 1972. ‘The Rock Inscriptions of Buhen’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 58: 43-82. Smith, H. 1976. The Fortress of Buhen. The Inscriptions. Excavations at Buhen II. Excavation Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Society 48. London: Egypt Exploration Society.

Wildung, D. 1996. Sudan. Antike Königreich am Nil. Wasmuth: Tübingen. Wilkinson, R. 1987. ‘The Turned Bow as Gesture of Surrender in Egyptian Art’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities17(3): 128-133.

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Trigger. B. 1994. ‘Paradigms in Sudan Archaeology’. The International Journal of African Historical Studies 27 (2): 323-345. Trope, B; Quirke, S; Lacovara, P. 2005. Excavating Egypt: Great Discoveries from the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, University College London. Atlanta: Michael C. Carlos Museum. Valbelle, D. 2004. ‘The Cultural Significance of Iconographic and Epigraphic Data Found in the Kingdom of Kerma’. In Nubian Studies 1998. Proceedings of the Ninth Conference of the International Society of Nubian Studies, August 21-26, 1998 Boston, Massachusetts, edited by Kendall, T. Boston: Department of AfroAmerican Studies Northeastern University, 176-183.

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On Interpreting the Meaning of Amulets and Other Objects using the Frog Motif as an Example Joy Kremler 1914, 12; Cooney & Simpson, 1976, 204-205; Spencer 1980, 13; Dreyer 1986, 75; Andrews 1994, 63; Barta 1999, 111; Berman 1999, 80; Wilkinson 1999, 286; Germond & Livet 2001, 174; Wilkinson 2003, 229),1 who could appear as a woman with a frog’s head or as a frog sitting on a wicker basket. She was primarily a fertility goddess, but as with many Egyptian gods there were various aspects to her persona. Not only did her divine role change over time, as demonstrated by her various epithets,2 but it was also dependent upon her shifting associations with other gods. Evidence of her cult is found on mortuary stelae, temple inscriptions and religious and literary texts from the Early Dynastic Period to the end of the Roman Period (Kákosy 1977b, 1123-4). However, even though her name is first attested in the 2nd Dynasty (incorporated into the names of two tomb owners at Helwan) what little is known about her cult comes entirely from inscriptional evidence after the First Intermediate Period. The link between Heqet and preFirst Intermediate Period frog motifs is therefore purely conjectural.

Merely to catalogue amulets without any regard to their meaning, is much like collecting pretty shells without knowing anything of the creatures which produced them (Petrie 1914, 1). My Masters research topic was on the origin and development of Egyptian frog amulets and figures from the Predynastic Period to the end of the First Intermediate Period and their relationship to the goddess Heqet. As the research progressed I became increasingly interested in the symbolism attached to objects such as amulets and votive figures, and began to question the validity of projecting the symbolism of one object type onto another. A major shortcoming of the traditional theories on the symbolism of figurative objects, be they amulets, figures, or other objects, is the use of later inscriptional material to explain their meaning for earlier periods, or the transference of meanings between different classes of objects, without sufficiently taking into consideration the specific context of each object type. This paper will explore the symbolism of different classes of objects that share the same motif, that of the frog, and will show how a thorough investigation of context can help to establish different meanings. The second section of the paper looks closely at the symbolism and possible uses of amulets and explores the distribution of motifs across amuletic types, i.e., conventional amulets, design-amulets and seals.

The earliest example of the frog as a symbolic device comes from an object that has been dated to the Naqada I Period (Luft 1998, 418). This unprovenanced ceramic vessel3 is thought to represent a boat with an open, ovalshaped mid-section, with a protruding prow and stern. In shape it is very similar to a provenanced ceramic boat from Naqada in the collection of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford4 that has been dated by Payne (1993, 24) to Naqada IIa.5 The boat contains the figure of a naked man with a pointed beard, lying on his side in a contracted position, in the same attitude as Predynastic bodies. Outstretched across the prow of the vessel is the torso of a frog in raised relief. If the proposed date of this object is correct, then it records the earliest known representation of a frog from ancient Egypt, pre-dating frog amulets and figures by at least 500 years. This object firmly associates the frog with the journey of the deceased, thereby linking the symbolism of the frog with the concept of resurrection. A slight variation on the interpretation of the object proposes that instead of being a boat, the vessel itself is the body of the frog, which is transporting the deceased to the next life (Luft 1998, 418), making the frog an active agent of resurrection.

The image of the frog was a powerful and enduring symbol for the ancient Egyptians. In amulet-form it predates the scarab, that quintessential Egyptian symbol, by over 1,500 years and was still being used by the Egyptians 4,000 years after its inception. Not only was the frog motif surprising in its apparent ability to withstand the fluctuations of popular culture and the vagaries of political and religious forces over the millennia, but it also pervaded Egyptian culture from the Delta to the Sudan, and did so from at least the late Predynastic Period. The frog motif appears in diverse contexts: in tomb and temple reliefs; decorating small stone vessels and clay lamps; etched onto ivory magic ‘wands’; as amulets and votive figures; as well as being modelled in the round on offering tables and ceramic vessels. A brief overview of the diverse array of contexts where the motif of the frog occurs will illustrate how prevalent the image of the frog was throughout Egyptian history and hopefully, will demonstrate a range of meanings associated with its image.

1

Although several authors (Cooney & Simpson 1976, 203; Spencer 1980, 13; Berman 1999, 80; Andrews 2002, 12) have qualified this assumption by recognising that for the Predynastic Period of Egyptian history it is impossible to be certain. 2 For a full list of epithets see Budde et al. (2002a, 567-8). 3 Rijksmuseum van Oudheden, Leiden, Inv. No. F 1962/12. 4 Inv. No. 1895.777. 5 Using Kaiser’s (1957, 69-77) Predynastic chronology.

Where the frog motif appears, especially in the form of frog amulets and frog figures, writers have generally connected these objects with the goddess Heqet (Petrie

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JOY KREMLER From the Naqada II Period to the 1st Dynasty, small globular stone vessels were produced, which often took the shape of frogs, hippopotamuses, fish, hedgehogs, birds and turtles. Because of their small size (around 4cm in diameter), they are often referred to as cosmetic jars and could have held a number of substances including oils, unguents and pigments (Seidlmayer 1998, 17; Grimm & Schoske 2000, 64). Generally the animals chosen to form the body of the jars are the same as those that appear as figurative cosmetic palettes of the Naqada II Period (Seidlmayer 1998, 17), although to my knowledge no palette has been found in the shape of a frog. One wonders if particular animals were chosen because their body-shapes were easily adapted to form rounded jars or if the Egyptians believed that the integration of specific animals into the design would enhance the efficacy of the jar’s contents. To the ancient Egyptians, animals were seen not only as co-habitants of the natural world, but also as “participants in a symbolic universe” (Germond & Livet 2001, 17). Animals were thought to possess either malevolent or benign powers, but more often a combination of the two. For example the turtle, because it lived in the murky depths of the marshes was thought to embody dangerous powers, but these powers could also be harnessed to ward off evil (Arnold 1995, 34). It seems that animals belonging to the marshes and wetlands were especially favoured, which is not surprising given the ancient Egyptians’ belief in the marshes as places of fertility, regeneration and protection (Germond & Livet 2001, 100). Therefore, the incorporation of frogs and other wetland animals into the design of the jars may have been thought to add extra potency to the healing or rejuvenative qualities of the lotions that they contained by assimilating some of the animal’s symbolic powers.

them a snake winds around the neck, encircling the mouth of the vessel. If this vessel does in fact represent the Ogdoad (or perhaps a precursor of what was later formalised to become the Hermopolitan tradition), and the provisional dating is correct, then this would take the symbolism of frogs and snakes as creator beings back to the beginning of the Dynastic Period. Easily the most common class of frog–shaped object is the amulet. Frog amulets were produced throughout ancient Egyptian history, from the Predynastic Period to the end of the Roman Period, making it one of the most enduring amulets in Egyptian history (probably only matched by the Horus-like bird amulet). In the Predynastic Period amulet types were confined mainly to animal representations, which as well as frogs, included bovine heads, elephant heads,8 flies, oryx/antelopes, hedgehogs, falcon-shaped birds, bound hippopotamuses and couchant jackals. It is impossible to be sure if these early types were the precursors of later ones that we would recognise as representations of the gods Horus and Anubis, for example. Likewise, even though commentaries on Egyptian amulets (Petrie 1914, 12; Andrews 1994, 63) associate even the earliest frog amulets with the goddess Heqet, an examination of the dating and distribution of these early frog amulets in relation to the origins of the cult of Heqet, makes this assumption very unlikely. Frog amulets first appeared around 3200 BCE, with the earliest being found at Ballas (Quibell 1896, 29-30). By the Protodynastic Period, frog amulets were being buried with their owners at Gerf Husein in Nubia (Firth 1912, 78) and by the Early Dynastic Period they appear in graves in the Delta (el-Baghdadi 2003, 149). This wide distribution at such an early stage in Egyptian history is not reflected in the earliest references to Heqet. The cult of Heqet is first attested on two stelae from Helwan, where her name is incorporated into the personal names of two 2nd Dynasty tomb-owners Mn-(kA)-Hqt (May Heqet endure) and Ni-sw-Hqt (He belongs to Heqet) (Kaplony 1963, 486, 531). The first direct reference to the goddess appears in the Pyramid Texts, utterance 539 (Faulkner 1969, 207), inscribed on the walls of the burial chamber in the pyramid of King Unis. In a prayer aimed at aiding the king’s ascension to heaven, Heqet is briefly mentioned along with a myriad of other deities. During the 4th to 6th Dynasties, Heqet is mentioned no less than fourteen times in biographical texts in the mastabas of certain high officials who were buried in the cemeteries servicing the Memphite region (Strudwick 1985, 184-5). Each of the fourteen officials held the title Hm-nTr @qt (Priest of Heqet) at some stage in their careers. 9 As five of the titleholders went on to become Viziers, we may suppose that the title was a prestigious one. Thus, to date, the textual evidence indicates that in the Early Dynastic

The frog is also associated with one of the earliest creation myths of ancient Egypt, the Hermopolitan cosmogony.6 The myth begins with a mound rising out of the chaos of the primeval waters. Within these waters were eight creator gods, the Heh gods, who are often referred to as the Ogdoad. These deities formed four couples made up of Nun and Nunet, Amun and Amunet, Huh and Huhet, and Kuk and Kuket. Respectively, they symbolised the primeval waters, air, eternity and darkness (Altenmüller 1975, col. 56). In their zoomorphic forms the four male deities were shown as frogs and their partners as snakes (Altenmüller 1975, col. 56). These gods created the world before dying and retreating to the underworld. From there they continued to sustain the natural world by causing the sun to rise each day and the Nile to flow (Tobin 2002, 248). A small gneiss pot,7 provisionally dated between the Protodynastic Period and the 1st Dynasty (Grimm & Schoske 2000, 64), may be the earliest representation of the Hermopolitan creation myth. On the sides of the vessel perch two frogs, whilst above 6 Even though the Hermopolitan cosmogony is first attested in the Middle Kingdom Coffin Texts (Faulkner 1973, Spr. 76), the original cultic placename, #mnw (City of the Eight) already existed in the Old Kingdom, thereby inferring an Old Kingdom origin for the Hermopolitan cosmogony (Altenmüller 1975, col. 56). 7 Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst, München Inv. No. ÄS 1613.

8

Recently it has been argued convincingly that many Predynastic amulets thought to represent bovine heads may in fact represent elephant heads (van Lepp 1999, 101). 9 A further occurrence of the title is found on the false door to the tomb of Weni who was buried at Abydos (Borchardt 1964, 54).

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On Interpreting the Meaning of Amulets and Other Objects using the Frog Motif as an Example Period and the Old Kingdom, the cult of Heqet was centred on the capital, Memphis, making it unlikely that there is a connection between the provincial, and earlier, frog amulets and the localised cult of Heqet. In addition, the idiosyncratic forms these early frog amulets took bear no resemblance to the determinative of the written form of Heqet (see Figure 1); many are very schematically executed and they never incorporate the ‘neb’ basket (Kremler 2008, Pl. 1-3). It is clear that the artisans who manufactured the amulets were not attempting to imitate the written name of “Heqet”, which had already become standardised by the 2nd Dynasty.10

Approximately 200 years after the first frog amulets were produced, frog figures began being offered as votives at the early temples and shrines of Egypt. Five early temple sites are associated with large deposits of votive goods: Elephantine (Dreyer 1986), Hierakonpolis (Quibell 1900; Quibell & Green 1902), Abydos (Petrie, 1902; 1903), Tell Ibrahim Awad (Eigner 2000) and Tell el-Farkha (Ciałowicz 2007). The votive objects found at these sites consist mainly of figures of animals (including frogs), human figures, model vessels and boats, plaques and gaming pieces and are fairly homogenous across the five temple sites, with minor local specialisation. Such a pronounced level of uniformity indicates widespread religious practices underpinning Egyptian society from the beginning of dynastic history. These votive objects are evidence of worship at the community level, rather than state-sponsored patronage (Wilkinson 1999, 272; Kemp 2006, 121). Frog figures found at these early temple sites are usually regarded as representing the goddess Heqet (Spencer 1980, 13; Barta 1999, 11; Berman 1999, 80; Wilkinson 1999, 286) and are thought to be associated with a request for fecundity or an offering toward an imminent birth (Cooney & Simpson, 1976, 205; Dreyer 1986, 75). However, as none of the frog figures from these temple sites are inscribed, we have no proof of their specific symbolic function.11 As is the case with frog amulets, the forms of the early frog figures bear no resemblance to textual representations of the goddess Heqet.

Figure 1 Determinative of the goddess “Heqet” (after  Budde et al. 2002b, 488).  But to return to the question of what frog amulets actually symbolised. There is a natural assumption (Petrie 1914, 12; Andrews 1994, 63; Germond & Livet 2001, 174) that because frog amulets were usually worn by women and because Heqet was traditionally associated with divine conception and birth, that they must have something to do with pregnancy and childbirth. If this were the case one would expect the majority of women to be found wearing them. For the ancient woman the risk of death during her child-bearing years was quite considerable, making apotropaic protection during pregnancy and birth of paramount importance. The best sample of amulets found in situ come from Guy Brunton’s (1927; 1928; Brunton & Caton-Thompson 1928; 1937; 1948) excavations in the region of Qau. Of 1477 excavated graves (Dubiel 2008, 15), containing just over 1,063 amulets (Dubiel 2008, 187), most of which were found on the bodies of women and children, only 26 frog amulets were found (~2.5%). Such a small proportion of wearers would indicate that for most women the protection of a frog amulet certainly wasn’t seen as essential. Perhaps it indicates that frog amulets were only worn during a woman’s confinement or perhaps they were thought to offer a little ‘extra’ protection. Another possibility is that they may have been worn to assist with fertility in cases where the wearer was having difficulty conceiving. These hypotheses fit the pattern of distribution better, but do not explain why frog amulets have been found accompanying the bodies of children. Perhaps a better explanation would be that frog amulets were meant to help their owners achieve rebirth in the afterlife; a symbolic association that we have already seen in relation to the Predynastic boat-like vessel. This hypothesis has already been proposed by several authors (Egger 1935, 3; Leclant 1978).

One particular context where the appearance of the frog at first appears to be incidental is in hippopotamus hunting scenes in the mastabas of high court officials of the 5th and 6th Dynasties at Saqqara. There they are depicted on the walls of the tombs, in their natural environment, hiding amongst the shining pondweed (Potamogeton lucens) in the marshes.12 However, rather than merely representing scenes of everyday life, hippopotamus hunting scenes are thought by some writers (Arnold 1995, 24; Germond & Livet 2001, 17) to be symbolic dramas, playing out the theme of Order (Maat) triumphing over Chaos (Isfet) and the power of nature as a force of cyclic renewal.13 The animals in them, therefore, including the frog, are participants in the process of creation and rejuvenation, aspects of the symbolism of marsh animals that have already been discussed in relation to cosmetic pots. Another aspect of the symbolism of the frog that is closely related to its association with the fertility of the marshes, is the frog as a representation of the inundation. For example, in the Late Period, bronze offering tables were produced, which incorporated a frog figure into the 11 Only one inscribed frog figure has been found. It is an unprovenanced granodiorite frog in the collection of the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek (Inv. No. ÆIN 1804), and bears the serekh of King Aha. 12 Whilst not all hippopotamus hunting scenes contain frogs they appear either singly or with other frogs in 24 marsh scenes at Giza and Saqqara (Evans 2006). 13 Whilst Kemp (2006, 92-99) does not discuss hippopotamus hunting scenes specifically, he believes that wild animal scenes represent the ideology of the “containment of unrule”.

10

For the stylistic development of early frog amulets see Kremler (2008, 112-8).

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JOY KREMLER In the 12th Dynasty, magic wands (sometimes referred to as knives), made exclusively from hippopotamus ivory, were used to apotropaically protect women and children in the home. They were carried by pregnant women to protect the unborn child in the womb and, not surprisingly, were used by wet nurses and midwives to protect the new-born babies (Helck 1975, 1355). Wear on the edges of these wands indicates that they were probably used to etch a protective circle on the floor around a child’s bed, for example, and various spells would have been uttered to ward off illness or death (Ritner 2002, 196). The wands bore images of fierce knife-wielding demons, lions, frogs, snake-necked panthers, apes, crocodiles, griffins and other composite mythical creatures. The frog was sometimes depicted brandishing a knife, and sometimes sitting on a wicker basket. In this instance we can positively identify the goddess Heqet, whose determinative is that of a frog sitting on a wicker basket. It seems clear in this example that the magic protection of Heqet is being invoked for the protection of the women and children of the household.

spout (Bonnet 1952, 199; Kaper 2002, 118). The water that was placed on the tray poured out of the mouth of the frog thus symbolising the pouring forth of the inundation and the ensuing rejuvenation of the land. Clay vessels were also made which utilised the frog’s mouth as a spout.14 In this context there is no suggestion that the frog represents Heqet, but is accepted as symbolising the inundation. Recently Olaf Kaper (2002) has extended the use of this imagery by equating the frog image, when shown in conjunction with a water pot, with the inundation. Previously, several writers had argued that this vignette (see Figure 2), which illustrates Spell 94 in the Book of Coming Forth by Day, somehow incorporated the goddess Heqet, as represented by the frog, even though no mention of her is made in the text.15 However, Kaper (2002, 120) has argued convincingly that the frog perched on the water bowl in this vignette signifies that the water in the bowl was specifically obtained from the inundation of the Nile. The duality of the frog as a symbol of the inundation or as a representation of the image of the goddess Heqet is unreservedly accepted for the later periods of Egyptian history because there is evidence to support both aspects of the frog’s symbolism. This same duality may have existed for the earlier periods as well, but a lack of evidence has steered us towards accepting that frog figures and amulets, for example, are solely a manifestation of the goddess Heqet.

The last example of the imagery of the frog comes from the Roman Period. Egyptian ceramic oil lamps from this period were commonly decorated with a frog. One such lamp, dated to the 4th century CE, was inscribed in Greek with the words “I am the resurrection” (Petrie 1914, 12; Kákosy 1977a, 336; Bonnet 2000, 199), although it is impossible to determine whether the text refers to the Egyptian belief in the frog as an agent of rebirth, or whether the Copts had appropriated the frog as a symbol of Christ’s resurrection (Kákosy 1977a, 336). Very few Egyptian oil lamps have been found in a secure context (Bailey 2001, 120), making it difficult to determine in what type of religious or cultural setting they were used. A re-examination of the ceramic lamps found at the Sacred Animal Necropolis at Saqqara (Bailey 2001) by the Egypt Exploration Society (1964-76), identified seven Late Roman (late 4th–5th century) frog-type lamps: four were found in a sector associated with a village and an early Christian church (which had been built directly above the abandoned temple); one was found in the cemetery area of the Apa Antinos Monastery (erected outside the south wall of the temple enclosure); one was found at the entrance to the Mother of Apis Catacomb; and the final one was found in a rubbish dump, containing material that could have been derived from the monastery (Bailey 2001, 122). The general distribution of frog lamps across this early Christian site, i.e. church, village, cemetery and monastery, firmly establishes the frog, in this context, as a Christian symbol, possibly of Christ’s resurrection. Other unprovenanced frog-type Egyptian oil lamps bearing crosses and sickle-shaped moons on their undersides (Ristow 1961, 67) would also indicate a connection with the frog motif and the Christian concept of Christ’s resurrection. In the New Kingdom, the phrase wHm anx meaning ‘renewing life’ could be replaced by the hieroglyph of the frog (Kákosy 1977a, 335; Bonnet 2000, 199), thus providing a convenient symbol of resurrection for the early Egyptian Christians to appropriate.

Figure 2 Vignette for Spell 94 in the Book of Coming  Forth by Day showing a frog sitting on a water pot (after  Milde 1991, pl. 13).  14 For other examples of the frog as a symbol of the inundation see Kaper (2002, 118-20). 15 For a summary of the academic theories surrounding this vignette from the last 30 years see Kaper (2002, 109-111).

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On Interpreting the Meaning of Amulets and Other Objects using the Frog Motif as an Example This brief examination of frog motifs sees a correlation between the frog and the concepts of creation, rejuvenation, birth and resurrection; which is not surprising given that frogs, toads and tadpoles were an integral part of life in the fertile marshes and irrigation canals that flanked the Nile. After the inundation, when the Nile was beginning to recede, the millions of tadpoles swarming in the evaporating pools of water would have epitomised the renewal of life itself. It could be argued that the concepts of birth, rejuvenation, and resurrection are only stages in the overarching theme of creation, but each of these concepts appears in a specific context and is not interchangeable with the other. They illustrate the multiple meanings conveyed by the image of the frog and it is reasonable to presume that at different periods and in different contexts, the frog symbolised quite separate and specific meanings in the minds of the ancient Egyptians. To presume that the goddess Heqet is implied whenever the frog motif occurs does not stand up to close scrutiny.

monkey-shaped, conventional amulets are found in profusion, as well as providing a popular motif for design-amulets, both as a design incised into the base, or modelled in the round on the back. Yet other motifs are only represented by one or the other type of amulet. For example, the fly-shaped, conventional amulet is common, but the fly never appears on the base or back of designamulets (Dubiel 2008, 247). Frog-shaped amulets are also common, as are frog-backed design-amulets, but the motif of the frog never appears on the base of designamulets (Hornung & Staehelin 1976, 112; Wiese 1996, 164; Dubiel 2008, 247). What accounts for these differences? What makes one motif suitable for use on a conventional amulet but not as a design element on a design-amulet? Is there something intrinsic to the meaning of certain amuletic devices that preclude them from being used in certain circumstances, or alternatively, is the application of motifs dictated simply by popular taste? Such subtle differences in the use of symbolic motifs would certainly indicate a depth of meaning not readily conveyed by the motif itself.

Even when a class of object, such as amulets, has been studied over a long period of time, ongoing research can reveal new and surprising results. Petrie was the first in modern times to turn his analytical mind to the systematic study of ancient Egyptian amulets (Petrie 1914). In all, he identified over two hundred and seventy different kinds. For the meanings of amulets he drew primarily upon ancient sources, such as the chapters of the Book of Going Forth by Day; the list of amulets contained in the MacGregor Papyrus; the list of amulets of Osiris inscribed at the temple at Denderah; and other mythological references. To this original list of reference material has now been added spells contained in the Coffin Texts and other passages containing magic spells, such as parts of the Leiden and Berlin papyri. Several ancient sources are very detailed in their treatment of amulets; they include vignettes to illustrate each type, they specify the material the amulets are to be made from, along with the spells to be recited over them, and finish by stating the desired outcome. Obviously frog amulets are not mentioned in any of these sources, hence our present uncertainty as to their symbolism. In researching unrecorded amulets, where there are no primary sources to explain their meaning, a wider approach is needed when attempting to analyse their symbolism.

Figure 3 Frog‐backed design‐amulet, showing base motif  (Left), profile (Middle) and back (Right) (after Brunton  1948, pl. XXXIII.24).  Another difference between design-amulets and common amulets is that design-amulets may appear as the only obvious amuletic device in a grave (Kremler 2008, 119), whereas common amulets are rarely found on their own; they are usually found grouped with other amulets to form necklaces, bracelets and anklets. This could indicate a fundamental difference in the symbolic qualities of design-amulets when compared with conventional amulets. We know that conventional amulets were very specific in their magical powers, for example a carpenter’s set square would potentially grant its wearer everlasting integrity (Andrews 1994, 86), but the designamulet may have offered its owner a more universal protection, negating the need for multiple amulets. Was it possible that the powers of the design-amulet could be customised specifically to the requirements of its wearer? Their role as a personal charm is supported by Brunton’s (1927, 58) observation that many design-amulets were broken or repaired, indicating that they were worn during life and not purchased solely to aid the deceased in the afterlife. Once again, careful analysis of the circumstances surrounding these symbolic objects has helped to reveal aspects that are not immediately apparent by studying the object in isolation.

A type of amulet that appeared in great numbers amongst Brunton’s finds at Qau was the design-amulet.16 The hallmark of a design-amulet is an incised decoration on a flat base accompanied by an animal or geometric-shaped back (see Figure 3). Scarabs originated as a type of design-amulet, before completely eclipsing the other types in popularity, and eventually leading to the total extinction of all others. Design-amulets were popular from the 6th Dynasty until the 12th Dynasty and were often found with conventional amulets in the same burials. Like conventional amulets they were worn as charms, and often carried the same motifs, either incised in their base or modelled on the back. For example

Another area that may help to explain the distribution of motifs amongst amulets is that of magic spells. The spoken word was an essential component of the efficacy

16

Variously referred to as ‘seal-amulets’, ‘button-seals’, button-badges’ or ‘Knopfsiegel’ in earlier publications (Petrie 1925; Ward 1970).

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JOY KREMLER of an amulet. Spells were recited over them, gestures were made, and certain rituals enacted. Some spells may even refer specifically to design-amulets as a component of the magician’s craft. One such spell from Papyrus 3027 in the Berlin Museum is for the protection of a baby. It reads: Are you warm in the nest? Are you hot in the bush? Is your mother not with you? Is there no sister to give air? Is there no nurse to afford protection? Let there be brought to me pellets of gold, balls of garnet, a seal with a crocodile and a hand. To slay and to dispel the ‘sweet one’, to warm the body, to slay this male enemy, this female enemy of the West. You will break out! This is a protection. (Borghouts 1978, 42-3).

Andrews, C. 2002. ‘Amulets’. In The Ancient Gods Speak: A Guide to Egyptian Religion, edited by Redford, D. B. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 9-18. Arnold, D. 1995. ‘An Egyptian Bestiary’. Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 52: 3–64. Bailey, D. 2001. ‘Lamps from the Sacred Animal Necropolis, North Saqqara and the Monastery of Apa Antinos’. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 87: 119133. Bárta, M. 1999. ‘The Title “Priest of Heket” in the Egyptian Old Kingdom’. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 58: 107-116.

As well as the words to the spell there are also instructions on how to enact the ritual:

Berman, L. M. 1999. Catalogue of Egyptian Art. Cleveland: Cleveland Museum of Art.

This spell is to be said over pellets of gold, balls of garnet, a seal [with] a crocodile and a hand. To be strung on a strip of fine linen. To be made into an amulet, applied to the throat of a child. Good. (Borghouts 1978, 43).

Bonnet, H. 1952. ‘Frosch’. In Reallexikon der Ägyptischen Religionsgeschichte. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 198-199. Borchardt, L. 1964. Denkmäler des Alten Reiches (Ausser den Statuen) im Museum von Kairo Nr. 1295-1808, Teil II: Text und Tafeln zu Nr. 1542-1808. Cairo: Organisme Général des Imprimeries Gouvernementales.

It is not clear from the text if the ‘seal’17 referred to should contain both elements (a crocodile and a hand) or if the spell is referring to two separate amulets. Designamulets have been found with crocodile and hand motifs etched into the base as well as modelled in the round on the back (Dubiel 2008, 243, 247), but none have been found to date that exhibit both a crocodile and a hand in the one design-amulet.18 It is possible therefore, that where these motifs appear on design-amulets, they in fact reflect the prescribed ingredients for certain spells.

Borghouts, J. F. 1978. Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Brunton, G. 1927. Qau and Badari. Vol. 1. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 44. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Quaritch. Brunton, G. 1928. Qau and Badari. Vol. 2. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 45. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Quaritch.

It is true that this paper has not proven the symbolic meanings of any of the objects discussed above, and in some cases it has even argued against meanings that are universally accepted. Some readers may think such an outcome is destructive, rather than constructive (creating chaos where once there was order). But in doing so we have managed to tease out nuances of meaning that would not have been apparent otherwise. By removing preconceived premises and carefully examining the context of each object group we have allowed the objects to “speak for themselves”.

Brunton, G; Caton-Thompson, G. 1928. The Badarian Civilization and Pre-dynastic Remains Near Badari. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 46. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Quaritch. Brunton, G. 1937. Mostagedda and the Tasian Culture. British Museum Expedition to Middle Egypt 1928 & 1929. London: Quaritch. Brunton, G. 1948. Matmar. British Museum Expedition to Middle Egypt 1929-1931. London: Quaritch.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Altenmüller, H. 1975. ‘Achtheit’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band 1, edited by Helck, W; Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 56-57.

Budde, D; Dils, P; Goldbrunner, L; Leitz, C; Mendel, D; et al. 2002a. Lexikon der Ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen. Vol. VIII, edited by Leitz, C. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 114. Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters and Departement Oosterse Studies.

Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London: British Museum Press.

Budde, D; Dils, P; Goldbrunner, L; Leitz, C; Mendel, D; et al. 2002b. Lexikon der Ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen. Vol. V, edited by Leitz, C. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 111. Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters and Departement Oosterse Studies.

17

For recent research into the use of design-amulets as functioning seals see Dubiel (2008, 112-137). 18 See Wiese’s (1996) thorough study of design-amulets.

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On Interpreting the Meaning of Amulets and Other Objects using the Frog Motif as an Example Kaiser, W. 1957. ‘Zur inneren Chronologie der Naqadakultur’. Archaeologia Geographica 6: 69-77.

Ciałowicz, K. M. 2007. ‘Tell el-Farkha’. In Seventy Years of Polish Archaeology in Egypt, edited by LaskowskaKusztal, E. Warsaw: Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology, 69-78.

Kákosy, L. 1977a. ‘Frosch’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band 2 , edited by Helck, W; Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 334-336.

Cooney, J. D; Simpson, W. K. 1976. ‘An Early Dynastic Statue of the Goddess Heqat’. The Bulletin of the Cleveland Museum of Art 63 (7) (Sept): 202-209.

Kákosy, L. 1977b. ‘Heqet’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band 2, edited by Helck, W; Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1123-1124.

Dreyer, G. 1986. Elephantine VIII: Der Tempel der Satet. Die Funde der Frühzeit und des Alten Reiches. Archäologische Veröffentlichungen 39. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern.

Kaper, O. E. 2002. ‘Queen Nefertari and the Frog: On an Amphibious Element in the Vignette to BD 94’. The Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 13: 109126.

Dubiel, U. 2008. Amulette, Siegel und Perlen: Studien zu typologie und tragesitte im Alten und Mittleren Reich. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 229. Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg; Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

Kaplony, P. 1963. Die Inschriften der Ägyptischen Frühzeit. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 8. Vol. I. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz.

Egger, F. 1935. ‘Frosch und Kröte bei den Alten Ägyptern’. Mitteilungen der Geographischethnologischen Gesellschaft in Basel 4: 1-24.

Kemp, B. J. 2006. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization. 2nd edn. London; New York: Routledge.

Eigner, D. 2000. ‘Tell Ibrahim Awad: Divine Residence from Dynasty 0 until Dynasty 11’. Ägypten und Levante 10: 17-36.

Kremler, J. 2008. ‘The Origin and Development of Frog Amulets and Figures in Ancient Egypt and their Relationship to the Goddess Heqet’. MA thesis. Melbourne: Monash University.

el-Baghdadi, S. G. 2003. ‘Proto-and Early Dynastic Necropolis of Minshat Ezzat: Dakahlia Province, Northeast Delta’. Archéo-Nil 13: 143-52.

Leclant, J. 1978. ‘La Grenouille d'Éternité des Pays du Nil au Monde Méditerrenéen’. In Hommages à Maarten J. Vermaseren Vol. II, edited by de Boer, M. B; Edridge, T. A. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 561-572.

Evans, L. 2006. ‘The Representation of Animal Behaviour in Old Kingdom Tomb Scenes from Giza and Saqqara’ 2 Vols. Ph.D. thesis. Sydney: Macquarie University.

Luft, U. 1998. ‘A Different World - Religious Conceptions’. In Egypt, the World of the Pharoahs, edited by Schulz, R; Seidel, M. Cologne: Könemann, 416-431.

Faulkner, R. O. 1969. The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Milde, H. 1991. The Vignettes in the Book of the Dead of Neferrenpet. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten.

Faulkner, R. O. 1973. The Ancient Egyptian Coffin Texts, Vol. 1 Spells 1-354. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Firth, C. M. 1912. The Archaeological Survey of Nubia: Report for 1908-1909. Vol. I. Cairo: Government Press.

Payne, J. C. 1993. Catalogue of the Predynastic Egyptian Collection in the Ashmolean Museum. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Germond, P; Livet, J. 2001. An Egyptian Bestiary: Animals in Life and Religion in the Land of the Pharaohs. London: Thames & Hudson.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1902. Abydos Vol. 1. Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund 22. London: Egyptian Exploration Fund.

Grimm, A; Schoske, S. 2000. Am Beginn der Zeit: Ägypten in der Vor - und Frühzeit. München: Staatliches Museum Ägyptischer Kunst.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1903. Abydos Vol. 2. Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund 24. London: Egyptian Exploration Fund.

Helck, W. 1975. ‘Zaubermesser’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band 6, edited by Helck, W; Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1355.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1914. Amulets: Illustrated by the Egyptian Collection in University College, London. London: Constable & Co.

Hornung, E; Staehelin, E. 1976. Skarabäen und andere Siegelamulette aus Basler Sammlungen. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1925. Buttons and Design Scarabs. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt, University College.

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JOY KREMLER Quibell, J. E. 1896. Ballas. Egypt Research Account 1. London: Quaritch. Quibell, J. E. 1900. Hierakonpolis Part I. Egypt Research Account 4. London: Quaritch. Quibell, J. E; Green, F. W. 1902. Hierakonpolis Part II. Egypt Research Account 5. London: Quaritch. Ristow, G. 1961. ‘Das Frosch- und Krötenmotiv auf koptischen Tonlampen in der Frühchristlichbyzantinischen Sammlung’. Forschungen und Berichte 3 (1961): 60-69. Ritner, R. K. 2002. ‘Magic’. In The Ancient Gods Speak: A Guide to Egyptian Religion, edited by Redford, D. B. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 191-214. Seidlmayer, S. 1998. ‘Egypt's Path to Advanced Civilization’. In Egypt, the World of the Pharaohs, edited by Schulz, R; Seidel, M. Cologne: Könemann, 8-23. Spencer, A. J. 1980. Early Dynastic Objects. Vol. 5 of Catalogue of Egyptian Antiquities in the British Museum. London: British Museum Publications. Strudwick, N. 1985. The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom: The Highest Titles and their Holders. London: KPI. Tobin, V. A. 2002. ‘Creation Myths’. In The Ancient Gods Speak: A Guide to Egyptian Religion, edited by Redford, D. B. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 246251. Van Lepp, J. 1999. ‘The Misidentification of the Predynastic Egyptian Bull’s Head Amulet’. Göttinger Miszellen 168: 101-11. Ward, W. A. 1970. ‘The Origin of Egyptian DesignAmulets (Button Seals)’. The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 56: 65-80. Wiese, A. B. 1996. Die Anfänge der ägyptischen Stempelsiegel-Amulette. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 12. Freiburg: Universitätsverlag Fribourg; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht. Wilkinson, R. H. 2003. The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt. London: Thames & Hudson. Wilkinson, T. A. H. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London: Routledge.

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Administrative Control of Egypt’s Western Oases during the New Kingdom: A Tale of Two Cities Richard J. Long oases and Abydos (Limme 1973, 45-47; Redford 1977, 2; Valloggia 1981, 185-190). Nevertheless, evidence for a connection between Dakhleh and Thebes has emerged, with excavations at Mut el-Kharab revealing the existence of a New Kingdom cult of Amun. Is it then possible that Thebes’ relationship with the oases was not solely religious in nature, and may have involved formal administrative duties? This scenario is certainly feasible when one considers the wealth and influence of the cult of Amun during the New Kingdom, as well as the fundamental role of temples within the state bureaucracy, especially with regard to the collection and recording of tribute and taxation (O’Connor 1983, 202, 211; Kemp 2006, 254-258). In light of new discoveries, a review of this issue is necessary. This paper will provide an examination of both the relevant Nile Valley and oasis sources in an attempt to clarify the administrative relationship of both areas during the New Kingdom.

Map 1 Egypt showing the western oases (based on  Darnell 2002, 133, Fig. 1). 

 

  In recent years our understanding of Egypt’s western oases during the New Kingdom has improved dramatically. Among the many sites that have contributed to this increase in knowledge is Mut el-Kharab in Dakhleh Oasis where the remains of a New Kingdom temple have been unearthed (Hope 2005, 43; Long 2008, 95-110; Hope and Kaper 2011, 223-225). Excavations at this site have demonstrated significant activity during this period, including a series of cartouches, which help to confirm that Dakhleh at least was incorporated into the Egyptian administration during the New Kingdom. Unfortunately, none of the material recovered from Dakhleh, or the other oases, provides any further insight into the nature of this administrative relationship. In particular, were all the oases integrated into the Egyptian bureaucracy and if so, which Nile Valley nome held political jurisdiction? For many years, the city of This was believed to have been responsible for administering the oases during the New Kingdom. This assertion was based on a series of titles linking the officials of both the

Before proceeding, a definition of the term “western oases” within the context of this paper is required. With regard to the New Kingdom, Egypt’s Western Desert contained four main oases (Kharga, Dakhleh, Farafra and Bahariya; see Map 1)1 that were known collectively as wHAt  (Giddy 1987, 97). Other toponyms, however, were used to identify the oases, with the two most common being wHAt mHtyt (northern oases) and wHAt rsyt (southern oases) (Giddy 1987, 39-41, 146-147; Kaper 1992, 119120). Considering this geographical division into north (Bahariya and possibly Farafra) and south (Dakhleh and Kharga), it is likely that both entities were administered from different locations in the Nile Valley. The northern oases were probably controlled from the Oxyrhynchus nome (Giddy 1987, 15-16), while the Thinite nome, as mentioned above, is believed to have maintained jurisdiction over the southern oases. With the discoveries in Dakhleh raising the possibility of a closer link with Thebes, as opposed to Abydos, the southern oases will be the focus of this paper. Excavations at Mut el-Kharab in Dakhleh Oasis have produced evidence of considerable New Kingdom activity.2 Foremost of the recovered material is a collection of decorated stone blocks demonstrating a series of Egyptian royal building programs that span the duration of the New Kingdom, from Thutmose III to Ramesses VI. Of particular interest are six blocks dated

                                                            

1 Siwa Oasis is not included in the group because its relationship with the Nile Valley does not appear to have formally commenced until the Late Period (Kuhlmann 1998, 161-63; Giddy 1987, 18); hence it is outside the chosen timeframe of this paper. 2 I would like to thank Associate Professor Colin Hope, director of excavations at Mut el-Kharab, for allowing me access to this material for my MA research.

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  wHAt)3 that is of particular interest (Limme 1973, 46; Giddy 1987, 71, 116, no. 212). As funerary cones are known to have been used in actual tombs (Manniche 2001, 565), this piece of evidence strongly suggests that Menu was buried in Abydos. He may therefore have been a local and/or fulfilled his official duties from the Thinite region, further supporting the fact that under Thutmose III, the Mayor of This was also responsible for wHAt.

to Horemheb that show the monument was dedicated to Amun. Specifically, these blocks portray images of Amun, as well as the name and titles of the deity (Hope 2005, 43). In addition, a Ramesside stela was recovered depicting Amun in the top register as the principle god before two gods, Seth and most likely Nephthys (Hope and Kaper 2011, 225, 228-229). Clearly, with the existence of a religious installation in Dakhleh dedicated to Amun, some kind of connection with the deity’s cult centre in Thebes was required. For this reason alone it is worth revisiting the New Kingdom material relating to contact between the Nile Valley and oases to determine whether it was Thebes or in fact Abydos that had the closer and more administrative-based relationship with these remote Western Desert settlements. As evidence from the oases reveals very little about this issue, an analysis of the Nile Valley sources is necessary.

Other items that further support this bureaucratic link include a stela belonging to Intef, an official under Hatshepsut and/or Thutmose III (Säve-Söderbergh 1957, 16, 19). According to the stela, two of his most prominent titles were ‘Mayor of This’ (HAty-a n tni) and ‘Lord of the Entire Oasis Region’ (Hry-tp n wHAt mi qdw.s) (Limme 1973, 46; Giddy 1987, 69). Although the second title is different to that of Menu, the connection between Abydos and the oases is unmistakable; again the toponym in question implies the western oases were controlled as a single entity. Unlike Menu however, Intef was buried in Thebes, further complicating the issues concerning administrative control of the oases. Undoubtedly, as ‘Mayor of This’ Intef would have resided in Abydos, but the location of his tomb may imply that he was of Theban origin and/or undertook some of his professional duties from this particular city. Moreover, his tomb contains scenes of oasis representatives bringing tribute to the Nile Valley (see below), reinforcing that his relationship with the oases was an important one. Therefore it may be possible that some of his other official duties, such as ‘Lord of the Entire Oasis Region’ were fulfilled from Thebes. If this was the case, then the evidence relating to Intef may in fact strengthen Thebes’ administrative relationship with the oases.

Evidence for contact between the oases and the Nile Valley has been found at numerous sites along the length of the Egyptian Nile. The most widespread category of material is New Kingdom oasis ceramics, mainly in the form of amphorae. Small amounts have been identified at sites including Qantir (Aston 1998, 536-539), Memphis (Hope et al. 2002, 113-115), Saqqara (Aston 1991, 53, type 62), Tell el-Daba (Hope et al. 2002, 101), Amarna (Hope et al. 2002, 109-110) and Elephantine (Aston 1999, 59-60, 100). Of these locations, only Amarna has produced any other types of evidence indicating contact with the oases, namely jar labels referring to oasis wine. Nevertheless, the vast majority of sources come from the two locations in question: Abydos and Thebes. These two sites have produced a far more varied collection of evidence, much of which is relevant to this paper. This is not surprising, however, when one considers the geographic location of these sites in relation to the southern oases. In fact the shortest land route between Kharga and the Nile Valley is the Girga Road, which at its eastern end possesses a junction whereby one track heads towards El-Elwania passing closely by Abydos, and the other continues east and terminates at Farshut (Valloggia 1981, 187-90; Giddy 1987, 7-8; Darnell forthcoming). From Farshut a number of different routes allow overland travel to the Thebaid. Obviously the existence of these desert routes facilitated contact between the oases and this part of the Nile Valley, as supported by the archaeological record. An overview of this material will follow.

The final objects from Abydos are different from the above examples in that their owners did not appear to possess official titles relating to the Thinite nome; these items were, however, found locally. The first is a group of six shabtis (five limestone and one pottery) discovered by Amelineau in the late 19th century (Giddy 1987, 8182). They belonged to a man named Nebmeheyt, who was, according to the inscription ‘Governor of the Southern Oasis’ (HAty-a n wHAt rsyt). Subsequently, two more shabtis belonging to Nebmeheyt, not recorded by Amelineau, have been identified. One made of limestone is now in the British Museum, while one of faience is in the Aubert Collection (Giddy 1987, 121). The limestone shabtis can be dated to the late 18th or early 19th Dynasty through their design, appearance and inscriptions, the latter of which derive from Chapter IV of the Book of the Dead (Schneider 1977, I: 202-3, 237, III: Fig. 23, Type VD.3; Giddy 1987, 81). The faience shabti, on the other hand, can be dated more securely to the 19th Dynasty by

ABYDOS As mentioned previously, Abydos has produced a number of objects that contain official titles relating to the oases. For this reason scholars have long seen the Thinite nome as being responsible for administering the oases during the New Kingdom (Limme 1973, 45-47; Redford 1977, 2; Valloggia 1981, 185-190). The first item is a funerary cone belonging to a man named Menu, who lived under Thutmose III. Menu held a series of important posts including ‘Mayor of This’ (HAty-a n Tni) and ‘Overseer of the Priests of Osiris’ (imy-r Hm-nTrw n wsir). It is, however, his title of ‘Governor of the Oases’ (HAty-a n

                                                            

3 The term HAty-a, which was clearly an important administrative title during the New Kingdom, appears to have had a flexible meaning. According to O’Connor (1983, 208, Fig. 3.4), a HAty-a could be a town mayor, but also the mayor of a larger region. In this paper, the term will be defined as “mayor” when referring to an official of a specific town, and “governor” when referring to an official of a greater area. For more information on this title see Helck (1975, 875-80) and Giddy (1987, 678).

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  bureaucratic relationship, including political, economic and religious ties, between This and the oases. Nevertheless, the quantity of Abydos sources relating to the oases is still rather limited. This is especially the case when compared to Thebes, which has produced a comprehensive and diverse range of evidence, including tomb scenes, jar seals, jar labels, ceramics and other artefacts, all of which illustrate a much more extensive connection with the oases during the New Kingdom. It is therefore necessary to examine these sources to determine if it was in fact the Theban nome that was responsible for administering the southern oases, thus substantiating the prominence of the cult of Amun at Mut el-Kharab.

the use of glass inlaid eyes (Giddy 1987, 81, 121, no. 269). Although the title clearly indicates that Nebmeheyt was responsible for the administration of the southern oases, the fact that the inscriptions are preserved on shabtis makes it difficult to confirm whether or not he fulfilled his official duties from the Thinite nome. As Abydos was an important pilgrimage site in antiquity, these shabtis may have been used in a symbolic or commemorative burial for Nebmeheyt, raising the possibility that he lived and worked elsewhere in Egypt. The statue of Parenefer, dated to the 19th Dynasty, contains an inscription showing that this particular individual had two very interesting titles relating to the oases. These were ‘Superintendent of the Kitchen for the House of Osiris in the Southern Oasis’ (imy-r st n pr wsir m wHAt rsyt) and ‘Agent in the House of Osiris in the Southern Oasis’ (rwDw m pr wsir m wHAt rsyt) (Giddy 1987, 82-83). Although the specific responsibilities of these two positions, namely imy-r st and rwDw, are somewhat uncertain,4 the references to pr wsir m wHAt rsyt are significant. The use of the preposition m implies that the “House of Osiris” in question was actually in the Southern Oasis. For these religious estates to have a functioned effectively, they must have been incorporated into the Egyptian bureaucratic system. This piece of evidence therefore implies that a cult of Osiris was present in the southern oases during the 19th Dynasty, thus demonstrating a religious link with the deity’s cult centre Abydos.

THEBES Unlike Abydos, Thebes has produced few artefacts showing a direct link with the oases through official titles. The only exception is a funerary cone belonging to an individual named Sha, who was ‘Governor of the Northern Oasis’ (HAty-a n wHAt mHtyt). Originating from Dra‘ Abu el-Naga‘ in Thebes, it has been assigned to the 18th Dynasty by Giddy (1987, 71). In addition to this office, Sha was the ‘Overseer of the two granaries of Amun’, and ‘Steward of Amun in wHAt’. This piece of evidence is particularly interesting for a number of reasons. First, Sha’s titles show a connection between the temple of Amun and the oases. Moreover, his second office, namely ‘Steward of Amun in wHAt’, allows for two possible scenarios relating to Sha’s work in the oases; either he was in wHAt as a representative of the temple of Amun, or was a steward of Amun for an estate that was actually located in wHAt. If the latter is in fact correct, the existence of oasis estates linked directly to the cult of Amun is substantiated by textual sources. As excavations at Mut el-Kharab have shown, these religious installations can now be verified by the archaeological record. To effectively manage these remote temple assets, administrative control from the Nile Valley would of course be necessary. A second point to mention relates to the funerary cone itself, which supports the fact that Sha was actually buried in Thebes and thus may have lived and worked in the region. If this was the case, the fact that a Theban local was the governor of the northern oases (Bahariya and possibly Farafra) may demonstrate the extent of Thebes’ influence throughout Egypt during the New Kingdom.

Finally, a jar label was recovered from Abydos bearing the inscription: “mn-mAat-ra mA-xrw Hr wHAt ....” (Menmaatre, justified, in the oasis.....) (Simpson 1995, 25-6, D4). The label appears to be referring to an estate named after Seti I that was located in the oases. In all likelihood, the estate was probably responsible for producing wine which was then transported to the Nile Valley, a scenario supported by the large amounts of extant oasis-related evidence (see below). Although this particular estate is not verified by other sources, it does suggest that oasis wine was sent to Abydos. Unfortunately further evidence of this particular commodity is lacking at Abydos, with examples of oasis ceramics yet to be found (Budka 2006, 83-120). This is somewhat surprising as oasis wares are known from numerous sites in both the Nile Valley and Delta.5 Regardless, the Abydos jar label does imply an economic link, albeit limited, with Western Desert settlements.

With regard to the previously mentioned oasis ceramics, Thebes has currently produced the most extensive collection. Again, the corpus is dominated by amphorae, although other storage vessels do occur. Ceramic remains, including both complete and fragmentary examples, have been unearthed at a range of sites including temples, administrative and domestic settings, as well as both private and royal tombs. Details concerning all the New Kingdom oasis ceramics that have been found at Thebes are provided in Table 1 at the end of this paper.

The evidence from Abydos, specifically the official titles, would usually be enough to demonstrate a formal

                                                            

4 The position of imy-r st is believed to have involved supervising the slaughtering and cooking of meat, and the managing of storage magazines. The rwDw is believed to have been associated with the patrolling of frontiers as well as the management of estates located some distance from the temples that owned them (Giddy 1987, 83; Darnell, forthcoming). 5  It should be noted, however, that the identification of oasis wares is a difficult task, especially when previously discovered examples have not been viewed first-hand (Hope 2010, pers. comm.).

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  The identification of these particular ceramics as oasis vessels is based on their fabric following comparisons with examples from Dakhleh Oasis, as well as specific morphological features, such as flat bases, elongated bodies, both horizontal and vertical handles, and vertical fingers marks on the interior of the lower body (Marchand and Tallet 1999, 319-320; Hope et al. 2002, 105). Figures 1-3 show several examples of these amphorae from Thebes. It is worth noting that the vessels extend over a large portion of the New Kingdom, from the early 18th Dynasty through to the final phase of the 20th Dynasty. Moreover, the potential quality of these vessels’ contents, namely wine (see below), is confirmed by their occurrence in the royal tombs of Tutankhamun, Merenptah, Ramesses IV and VI, as well as their consumption at Malkata during the Jubilee festivals of Amenhotep III (Hayes 1951, 36; Marchand and Tallet 1999, 311-312).

  Figure 1 Oasis amphorae found in Thebes; a‐b: Karnak  North, Types 1155 and 430 (after Hope et al. 2002, 124,  Figs 7a and b); c: Malkata (after Hope et al. 2002, 123,  Fig. 6). 

  Figure 2 Oasis amphorae found in Thebes; a: KV 2 (after  Aston et al. 1998, Pl. 33, No. 274); b: KV 62 (after  Holthoer 1993, Fig. M‐top left); c: Mortuary temple of  Amenhotep II (after Petrie 1897, Pl. v3). 

In addition to the amphorae, jar seals and labels that mention oasis localities have been found throughout the Theban area. This particular category of evidence is very useful because like amphorae, it can track the movement of wine around Egypt during antiquity (Tallet 1998, 247248), in this case demonstrating clear economic ties with the oases. To date, 9 jar seals (Figure 4) and 9 jar labels (Figure 5) have been recovered from Malkata (7 seals and 5 labels), Deir el-Medina (3 labels), the tomb of Tutankhamun (1 seal and 1 label) and the temple of Seti I at Qurna (1 seal). In some instances, the high quality of certain oasis vintages is also recorded on the seals and labels themselves. Of the 12 examples found at Malkata, four classify the wine as “good” (nfr), while three refer to it as “very good” (nfr nfr) (Hayes 1951, Fig. 6 and 7, Type 49 and 73). Additionally, nfr nfr is used to describe the oasis wine in the two Deir el-Medina labels (Lopez 1980, Pl. 88, No. 57237; Koenig 1980, Pl. 51, Type 6412). Further evidence of Thebes’ link to the western oases comes specifically from the Theban necropolis and comprises wall paintings from seven private tombs. These scenes, which are part of the so-called ‘foreign tribute’ motif, show oasis emissaries delivering various products to the Nile Valley. All seven tombs, which date to the first half of the 18th Dynasty, belong to individuals who held important offices within the Egyptian administration. With regard to the identification of these figures as oasis representatives, clear inscriptions accompanying the scenes are preserved in three of the seven tombs, namely those of Senemiah (TT 127), Puyemre (TT 37) and Rekhmire (TT 100). In the other four tombs, belonging to Intef (TT 155), Ineny (TT 81), Menkheperasoneb (TT 86) and User (TT 131), the inscriptions accompanying the scenes have been destroyed. As a result, the identification of oasis figures is based upon comparisons with the tomb scenes of Senemiah, Puyemre and Rekhmire, in particular the occurrence of similar commodities such as baskets, matting, cloth, reeds and wine amphorae.

 

  Figure 3  Oasis amphorae found in Thebes; a: Qurna  (after Guidotti 1981, 97, Fig. 1); b: Theban Tomb 253  (after Rose 1996, 171, Pl. 68); c: Theban Tomb 99 (after  Hope et al. 2002, 126, Fig. 9). 

 

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  7, respectively. In the first example, the bottom register shows three oasis porters who are led by two prostrate men, clearly identified as “the Chiefs of the Southern and Northern Oasis” (Davies 1922, Pl. XXXII; Giddy 1987, 70). They are all being received by a scribe who is “recording the produce from wHAt”; he stands in front of the items already delivered. A third inscription from the tomb (not shown in Figure 6), has Puyemre proclaiming “the produce of the Southern and Northern wHAt, which the Lord has assigned to the temple of Amon…” (Davies 1922, Pl. XXX; Giddy 1987, 70).

 

Figure 4 Jar seals that mention oasis localities; a: KV 62  (after Hope 1993, 107‐9, No. XXVIII); b: Qurna (after  Petrie 1909, Pl. LXVI, No. 11); c: Malkata (after Hayes  1951, Fig. 25, Type L); d‐e: Malkata (after Leahy 1978, Pl.  15, Types X and XI).  The first scene comes from the tomb of Senemiah. Living under Thutmose III or slightly earlier,6 Senemiah held the titles ‘Overseer of all that grows’ and ‘Overseer of the two treasuries’ (Giddy 1987, 70). His tomb contains three registers of foreign porters who bring gifts to the Nile Valley. Despite the fragmentary nature of the scenes, one surviving inscription reads:

 

Figure 5 Jar labels that mention oasis localities; a:  Abydos (after Simpson 1995, 25‐6, D4); b‐c: Deir el‐ Medina (after Lopez 1980, Pls 85 and 88, Nos 57237 and  57251); d: Deir el‐Medina (after Koenig 1980, 77, Pl. 51,  No. 6412); e: KV 62 (after Černý 1965, 3 and 24, Pl. V,  No. 24); f‐h: Malkata (after Hayes 1951, Figs 7, 4, and 6,  Types 73, 19 and 49). 

[Receiving] the dues of the southern [and northern] oases (wHAt) by the scribe of the offering table, accountant of bread and accountant of grain (Giddy 1987, 156-7).

The other example, Figure 7, is from the tomb of Rekhmire, the well-known Vizier of Upper Egypt under both Thutmose III and Amenhotep II. Men are shown stacking up the commodities for a temple and again a scribe records the transactions. The inscription from the scene reads:

The oasis porters bring large and small baskets, bales of yellow cloth, sacks filled with an unknown product, storage jars, amphorae, and a low-bellied amphora carried in a rope sling which is suspended from a pole (Giddy 1987, 156-7).

Receiving the produce of the Southern Oasis (wHAt rsyt) together with the produce of the Delta, in the presence of the mayor and vizier, Rekhmire (Newberry 1900, Pl. XIII; Giddy 1987, 72).

The second and third scenes that identify the figures as oasis representatives come from the tombs of Puyemre and Rekhmire, and are reproduced here as Figures 6 and

These scenes require further discussion. First, the fact that the oasis products are being delivered to temples and recorded by scribes indicates that these Western Desert settlements located within both wHAt rsyt and wHAt mHtyt must have been integrated into the Egyptian administrative system. In the case of Puyemre, the

                                                             6

It is possible that Senemiah lived during the period of Amenhotep I to Hatshepsut (Porter and Moss 1960, 241; Vandersleyen 1971, 205-228). This is supported by the use of iaH in Senemiah’s tomb inscriptions, which is typical of this period; it did, however, continue to occur under Thutmose III, albeit more rarely.

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  Figure 6 Line drawing of tribute scenes from the tomb of Puyemre.  The upper register shows people from wAt-Hr,  while the lower register depicts people from wHAt (after Davies 1922, Pl. XXXI). 

  inscription clearly states that the tribute is being delivered to the temple of Amun, presumable in Thebes. Nevertheless, it must be noted that the foreign tribute theme in general is known to have a symbolic meaning, and depicts representatives from distant lands bringing gifts to the Nile Valley in an attempt to demonstrate Egypt’s power over her submissive and inferior neighbours (O’Connor 2003, 171). Dominance over all these groups was an essential part of both Egyptian religious and political ideology, and is best exemplified by the Nine Bows, which occurs, albeit modified, in all periods of Egyptian history (Uphill 1965/6, 393-420). Therefore, control over the oases was proof of Egypt’s control over the Western Desert. Is it then possible that these tribute scenes are purely symbolic? If so, the historical accuracy of oasis porters bringing tribute to the Nile Valley could be questioned. This theory, however, is weakened by the meagre collection of oasis goods. When compared to the luxury products of Africa and the Near East shown in other tomb scenes, often including gold and silver, the oasis baskets, cloth, reeds and matting seem quite out of place. The depiction of these modest commodities would thus appear to validate the authenticity of the tribute scenes. Moreover, the depiction of wine in all these scenes can be corroborated by the archaeological record in both the Nile Valley and the oases; the discovery of amphorae, as well as jar seals and labels proves the transportation of oasis wine throughout Egypt. It therefore seems that the oases’ geographical location well outside the traditional boundaries of Egypt proper was reason enough to include them in the foreign tribute motif.

the two granaries of Amun’. Similarly, Senemiah was the ‘Overseer of all that grows’ and ‘Overseer of the two treasuries’ (Giddy 1987, 70). In fact, only Intef held an office that was directly linked to the oases, namely ‘Lord of the Entire Oasis Region’ (Hry-tp n wHAt mi qdws), although exactly where he fulfilled the duties of this office are not clear as he was also ‘Mayor of This’, yet buried in Thebes. These scenes therefore demonstrate significant links between the oases, prominent Egyptian administrators and the temple of Amun. Furthermore, the tombs show the commodities are being recorded by scribes and delivered directly to the temple storehouses. Again the Theban archaeological record verifies these transactions, in particular oasis wine, thus reinforcing the economic connection with the oases, as well as the historical accuracy of these scenes. The final body of data comes from the work of John and Deborah Darnell, who are undertaking a detailed survey of the Farshut Road and the Theban Desert. To date, their work has produced inscriptional and ceramic material demonstrating extensive interaction between the southern oases and the Thebaid during the New Kingdom (J Darnell 2002, 132, 138-139, 143, 147-151). Interestingly, the Darnells have recovered large amounts of Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period evidence from the Theban Desert, which implies Theban control over the region. The site of Tundaba (Map 1) in particular, located at the mid-way point between Kharga Oasis and the Nile Valley, appears to have been an official outpost run by the Theban state to monitor and tax traffic along the Girga Road. This outpost continued to function into the New Kingdom up until the reign of Thutmose I where it seems to have fallen into disuse (Darnell forthcoming). This evidence therefore appears to indicate that control of nearby desert regions was a priority for the powerful Theban dynasties in the years leading up to the New Kingdom, a policy that was clearly maintained by their New Kingdom successors.

A second point to consider relates to the owners of the aforementioned tombs, all of whom held important administrative positions; especially those associated with temples estates. For example, Puyemre was responsible for managing the assets of the temple of Amun at Nekheb (Davies 1922, 79; Giddy 1987, 70), while User, Ineny and Menkheperasoneb all held the title of ‘Overseer of

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  Figure 7 Line drawing from the tomb of Rekhmire, showing representatives of the Delta and the oases, bringing  tribute to Egypt (after Davies 1943, Pls XLIX‐XL). 

  Location Tomb of Senneferi (TT 99) Qurna (Temple of Thutmose IV) Tomb of Khnummose (TT 253) Tomb of Foreign Wives of Thutmose III Karnak North (Treasury of Thutmose I) Tomb of Tutankhamun (KV 62) Malkata Tomb of Merenptah (KV 8) Tomb of the sons of Ramesses II (KV 5) Tomb of Ramesses IV (KV 2) Deir el-Medina Mortuary Temple of Amenhotep II Tomb of Ramesses VI (KV 9)

Description 1 amphora (short neck, out-turned rim, wide body, vertical handles at the vessel’s maximum diameter) 1 amphora (flat base, distinct painted floral motif on the shoulder) 1 amphora (flat base, vertical grooves on lower interior); 1 tall necked jar Amphora rim sherd 2 types of amphorae: 1 with flat base, short neck, modelled rims, two vertical handles, elongated body; 1 with rounded base, handles positioned higher on the body Amphora (flat base and horizontal handles); also possesses docket and seal which mention oasis localities iAty and wHAt rsyt 2 amphorae fragments (vertical finger marks on the vessel’s lower interior, flat mould-made base) 8 body sherds; 2 amphora shoulder sherds found outside the tomb Amphorae sherds (other details unknown) 1 reconstructed amphora; sherds indicating at least 4 other similar vessels 1 jar label (which also mentions the oasis locality iw-mrw) 1 amphora (short neck, out-turned rim, vertical handles) 4 amphorae sherds (neck/shoulder fragments, all possessing painted black decoration over a cream slip)

Publication Rose 2001, 18; Hope et al. 2002, 104, Fig. 9

Fig. 3c

Guidotti 1981, 95-97, Fig. 1; Aston 2004, 203

3a

Rose 1996, 171, Pl. 68: nos. 124 & 125

3b

Lilyquist 2003, 65 and 73, Fig. 78b Hope et al. 2002, 103

1a-b

Holthoer 1993, 54, Pl. 27-left; Hope 1993,121; Tallet 1996, 375-6

2b

Hope et al. 2002, 102

1c

Aston et al. 1998, 147, 149

-

Hope et al. 2002, 103; Hope, pers. comm.,2006

-

Aston et al. 1998, 158, Pl. 33 Marchand and Tallet 1999, 313, 335, Fig. 3; Hope et al. 2002, 104 Petrie 1897, Pl. v.3; Aston 2004, 203 Aston 1992, 76; Aston et al. 1998, 160, Pl. 37, Nos 316-319

2a 2c -

Table 1 New Kingdom oasis ceramics found in Thebes.    settlements into the Egyptian bureaucratic system. This CONCLUSIONS claim was based on a collection of artefacts containing official titles relating to the oases and Abydos, including The discovery of a New Kingdom cult of Amun at Mut the funerary cone of Menu, the stela of Intef, the shabtis el-Kharab in Dakhleh Oasis has raised the possibility that of Nebmeheyt and the statue of Parenefer. Nevertheless, Thebes, rather than Abydos, maintained a closer and an analysis of the Theban sources relating to contact with more administrative-based relationship with the western the oases implies that this city in fact maintained a much oases. Traditionally, the Thinite nome was seen as being more extensive connection with their distant western responsible for incorporating these Western Desert neighbours. In particular, economic ties with the oases

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  are verified by the discovery of amphorae, jars seals/labels and of course the significant tomb scenes. In comparison, Abydos’ archaeological record is far more limited, with even small numbers of oasis ceramics yet to be unearthed.

Aston, D. A; Aston, B; Brock, E. C. 1998. ‘Pottery from the Valley of the Kings – Tombs of Merenptah, Ramesses III, Ramesses IV, Ramesses VI and Ramesses VII’. Ägypten und Levante 8: 137-214. Budka, J. 2006. ‘The Oriental Institute Ahmose and Tetisheri Project at Abydos 2002-2004: The New Kingdom Pottery’. Ägypten und Levante 16: 83-120.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to determine with certainty whether Abydos or Thebes was responsible for actually administering the oases. Clearly, under Thutmose III Menu was both “Governor of the Oases” and “Mayor of This”; however, the sheer quantity of Theban evidence cannot be ignored. The extant remains indicate constant contact between the Thebaid and the Western Desert throughout the New Kingdom, although the relationship was probably very imbalanced; the economic exploitation of the oases was in all likelihood the main priority of the Nile Valley administration. Considering the prominence and influence of the cult of Amun during the New Kingdom, it undoubtedly played an important role within the state bureaucracy. As a result, the temple of Amun would have been involved in the collecting, recording and storing of produce from all of its estates throughout the country, processes that were clearly administrative in nature. The religious installation uncovered at Mut elKharab would have been no exception. Although future research may indeed confirm Abydos as the oases’ bureaucratic link to the Nile Valley, the rising influence of Amun and his cult-centre Thebes during the New Kingdom, meant its role as an economic hub increased. With the cult of Amun requiring regular tribute, an intimate relationship with their estates in the western oases was inevitable, a scenario which is verified by the archaeological record.

Darnell, J. 2002. ‘Opening the Narrow Doors of the Desert: Discoveries of the Theban Desert Road Survey’. In Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the Desert, edited by Friedman, R. London: British Museum Press, 132-155. Darnell, J. forthcoming. ‘The Girga Road: Abu Ziyar, Tundaba, and the Integration of the Southern Oases into the Pharaonic State’. In Desert Road Archaeology in the Eastern Sahara, edited by Riemer, H; Förster, F. Cologne: Heinrich-Barth-Institut. Davies, N. de. G. 1922. The Tomb of Puyemre at Thebes. New York: Egypt Exploration Society. Giddy, L. 1987. Egyptian Oases: Bahariya, Dakhla, Farafra and Kharga during Pharaonic Times. Warminster: Aris and Phillips Ltd. Guidotti, M. C. 1981. ‘Ceramica dipinta dell’epoca di Tutmosi IV a Gurna’. Egitto e Vicino Oriente 4: 95 110. Hayes, W. C. 1951. ‘Inscriptions from the Palace of Amenhotep III’ (Four parts). Journal of Near Eastern Studies 10 (1): 35-56; (2) 82-112; (3) 156-83; (4) 231-42.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Helck, W. 1975. ‘Bürgermeister’. In Lexikon der Ägyptologie Band I, edited by Heck, W: Otto, E. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 875-880.

Aston, D. A. 1991. ‘Section 5: Pottery’. In The Tomb of Irudef: A Memphite Official in the Reign of Ramesses II, edited by Raven, M. J. Egypt Exploration Society Excavation Memoir 57. Leiden; London: National Museum of Antiquities; Egypt Exploration Society, 4754.

Holthoer, R. 1993. ‘The Pottery’. In Stone Vessels, Pottery and Sealings from the Tomb of Tut‘ankhamūn, edited by Baines, J. Oxford: Griffith Institute, Oxford, 37-85.

Aston, D. A. 1992. ‘Two Decorative Styles of the Twentieth Dynasty’. Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 3: 71-80.

Hope, C. A. 1993. ‘The Jar Sealings’. In Stone Vessels, Pottery and Sealings from the Tomb of Tut‘ankhamūn, edited by Baines, J. Oxford: Griffith Institute, Oxford, 87-138.

Aston, D. A. 1998. Die Keramik des Grabungsplatzes Q1: Teil 1 – Corpus of Fabrics, Wares and Shapes. Die Grabungen des Pelizaeus-Museums Hildesheim in Qantir-Pi-Ramesses I. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern,

Hope, C. A. 2005. ‘Report on the Excavations at Ismant el-Kharab and Mut el-Kharab in 2005’. Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 16: 35-84. Hope, C. A; Eccleston, M; Rose, P; Bourriau, J. 2002. ‘Oasis Amphorae of the New Kingdom’. In Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the Desert, edited by Friedman, R. London: British Museum Press, 93-131.

Aston, D. A. 1999. Elephantine XIX. Pottery from the Late New Kingdom to the Early Ptolemaic Period. Archäologische Veröffentlichungen 95. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern.

Hope, C. A; Kaper, O. 2011. ‘Egyptian Interests in the Oases in the New Kingdom and a New Stela for Seth from Mut el-Kharab’. In Ramesside Studies in Honour of K. A. Kitchen, edited by Collier, M; Snape, S. Bolton: Rutherford Press, 219-236.

Aston, D. A. 2004. ‘Amphorae in the New Kingdom’. Ägypten und Levante 14: 175-213.

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Administrative Control of Egypt’s Western Oases during the New Kingdom 

  Kaper, O. 1992. ‘Toponyms of Dakhleh Oasis’. Bulletin de l'Institut Français d'Archéologie Orientale 92: 117-32.

Porter, B; Moss, R. 1960. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic texts, reliefs and paintings – Volume I: The Theban Necropolis, Part I: Private Tombs. 2nd edn. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Kemp, B. J, 2006. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization. 2nd edn. London: Routledge.

Redford, D. B. 1977. ‘The Oases in Egyptian History to Classical Times: Part III’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 7: 2-6.

Koenig, Y. 1980. Catalogue des étiquettes de jarres hiératiques de Deir el-Médineh. Cairo: L’Institut de Français d’Archéologie Orientale.

Rose. P. 1996. ‘The pottery’. In The Tombs of Amenhotep, Khnummose, and Amenmose at Thebes (Nos. 294, 253 and 254), edited by Strudwick, N; Strudwick, H. Oxford: Griffith Institute, Oxford, 166-181.

Kuhlmann, K. P. 1998. ‘Roman and Byzantine Siwa: Developing a Latent Picture’. In Life on the Fringe: Living in the Southern Egyptian Deserts during the Roman and early-Byzantine Periods, edited by Kaper, O. Leiden: CNWS publications, 159-180.

Rose, P. 2001. ‘Pottery from the tomb of Senneferi (TT 99)’. Egyptian Archaeology 19: 17-8.

Lilyquist, C. 2003. The Tomb of Three Wives of Thutmose III. New Haven and New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art/Yale University Press.

Säve-Söderbergh, T. 1957. Private Tombs at Thebes Vol. 1. Four Eighteenth Dynasty Tombs. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Limme, L. 1973. ‘Les oasis de Khargeh et Dakhleh d’après les documents égyptiens de l’époque pharaonique’. Cahier de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Egyptologie de Lille 1: 39-58.

Schneider, H. D. 1977. Shabtis: An Introduction to the History of Ancient Egyptian Funerary Statuettes, with a Catalogue of the Collection of Shabtis in the National Museum of Antiquities at Leiden (3 volumes). Leiden: Rijksmuseum Van Oudheden te Leiden.

Long, R. 2008. ‘Ceramics at Mut el-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis: Evidence of a New Kingdom Temple’. Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 19: 95-110.

Simpson, W. K. 1995. Inscribed Material from the Pennsylvania-Yale Excavations at Abydos. Publications of the Pennsylvania-Yale Expedition to Egypt 6. New Haven; Philadelphia: the Peabody Museum of Natural History of Yale University; the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.

Lopez, J. 1980. Ostraca Ieratici N. 57093-57319, Catalogo del Museo Egizio di Torino, Vol. III, Fasc. 2. Milan: Istituto Editoriale Gisalpino. Manniche, L. 2001. ‘Funerary Cones’. In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, Volume 1, edited by Redford, D. B. New York: Oxford University Press, 565567.

Tallet, P. 1996. ‘Une jarre de l’an 31 et une jarre de l’an 10 dans la cave de Toutânkhamon’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 96: 369-83.

Marchand, S; Tallet, P. 1999. ‘Ayn Asil et l’oasis de Dakhla au Nouvel Empire’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 99: 307-352.

Tallet, P. 1998. ‘Quelques aspects de l'économie du vin en Egypte ancienne au Nouvel Empire’. In Le commerce en Egypte ancienne, edited by Grimal, N; Menu, B. Cairo: L’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 241267.

Newberry, P. E. 1900. The Life of Rekhmara: Vezir of Upper Egypt Under Thothmes III and Amenhetep II (c. B.C. 1471-1448). Westminster: Archibald Constable and Co Ltd.

Uphill, E. 1965/6. ‘The Nine Bows‘. Jaabericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap Ex Oriente Lux 19: 393-420.

O’Connor, D. 1983. ‘New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period, 1552-664 BC’. In Ancient Egypt: A Social History, edited by Trigger, B. G; Kemp, B. J; O’Connor, D; Lloyd, A. B. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 183-278.

Valloggia, M. 1981 ‘This sur la route des Oasis’. Supplément au Bulletin de l'Institut Français d'Archéologie Orientale 81: 185-90.

O’Connor, D. 2003. ‘Egypt’s View of ‘Others’’. In ‘Never Had the Like Occurred’: Egypt’s view of its past, edited by Tait, J. London: University College London Press, 155-185.

Vandersleyen, C. 1971. Les guerres d’Amosis. Brussels: Monographies Reine Elisabeth I.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1897. Six Temples at Thebes. London: Quaritch.

113

It Really is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan Lisa Mawdsley During Flinders Petrie’s first season of excavation at the extensive Naqada III period cemetery at Tarkhan, five cylindrical pottery jars were found to be marked with serekh inscriptions executed in black ink. Two of these inscriptions have been identified as naming Ka, a Protodynastic ruler from Abydos, and Narmer, the first king of Dynasty 1 (Petrie et al. 1913, 28, plate 31.67 and 69),1 while a third (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 31.66; UC16071) has been interpreted as relating to a hypothetical Late-Predynastic Fayum-based ruler Horus Crocodile (Dreyer 1992, 259-263).2 A fourth inscription is problematic and may record the name of a private individual (Petrie et al. 1913, 9, 28, plate 31.71; UC16086). The remaining inscription was illustrated with what appears to be two dots within the upper compartment of the serekh (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 31.70; UC16085; see Figure 1). Although illegible, Petrie suggested a reading of Narmer based upon similarities with another ink inscription already assigned to that ruler (Petrie et al. 1913, 28, plate 31.69; see Figure 2). The cylindrical jar was associated with Tomb 300, presumed to be located somewhere amongst the hills of the cemetery, and is now held in the collection of the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology as UC16085.

From a visual examination of UC16085, the signs within the serekh are barely visible making an accurate reading impossible. A number of names have been proposed including Narmer and early Dynasty 1 kings Aha and Djer. Peter Kaplony (1965, 137, Taf. XXI) suggested a reading of Aha on the basis of an infra-red photograph taken of the vessel. However, there still remains some uncertainty in the literature regarding the correct reading of the inscription. Through a recent examination of the excavation tomb cards for Tarkhan, along with the identification of more recent and unpublished infra-red photographs, I hope to clarify some of the problems associated with identifying the name within the serekh.

 

Figure 2 Original drawing of ink inscription of Narmer.  Petrie; Wainwright; Gardiner 1913, plate 31.69.

PREVIOUS OPINION Kaplony (1963, 996) initially supported Petrie’s reading of Narmer on the basis of a then unpublished infra-red photograph of the vessel. It was suggested that any differences between the serekh on UC16085 and the serekh of Narmer as illustrated in Petrie et al. (1913) plate 31.69, reflected changes in administrative practices during this period (Kaplony 1963, 996). However, upon examination of the vessel by Kaplony, it was noted that the cylindrical jar lacked a continuous band of incisions below the rim (Kaiser 1964, 95). The absence of this feature suggested that the manufacture of the vessel postdated Narmer (Kaiser 1964, 95).3 In a subsequent paper, Kaplony (1965, 137, Taf. XXI) published the infra-red photograph of the jar and proposed that the signs within

 

Figure 1 Original drawing of ink inscription on UC16085.  Petrie; Wainwright; Gardiner 1913, plate 31.70.

                                                            

1 The vessel inscribed with the serekh of Ka is held at the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology (UC16072). The location of the jar inscribed with the serekh of Narmer is unknown. 2 A further ink inscription on a cylindrical jar was discovered in Tomb 1549 during the second season of excavation at the site (Petrie 1914, 11, plate 9.3; UC16947). This serekh has also been intepreted as reading Horus Crocodile (Dreyer 1992, 259-263). For an alternate reading of this inscription as Narmer, see Petrie (1914, 11), and for both UC16071 and UC16947 as Scorpion, see Kaplony (1963, 1090, Taf. 1-2). For a recent discussion of selected ink inscribed vessels from Tarkhan, see MacArthur (2010, 73-98).

                                                            

3 On the use of cylindrical jars as relative chronological markers for the Naqada III period, see Kaiser (1957; 1964, 94) and Hendrickx (1989; 1996, 36-69; 2006; 81-87).

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LISA MAWDSLEY the serekh should now be read as Aha rather than Narmer. This reading was later supported by Kaiser and Dreyer (1982, 266-267), and again by Dreyer (1992, 261) in his discussion of Horus Crocodile.4

THE VESSEL The cylindrical jar is made from marl clay and is 24.7 cm high (see Figure 3). The vessel has a slightly curved wall and is without an incised or decorative band. Such cylindrical jars are characteristic of the Naqada IIIC1 period and correspond to Petrie’s Wavy-Handled types W89-90 or cylindrical jar type 50(d) (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 49; Petrie 1921, plate 30; 1953, plate 9; Hendrickx 1996, 50; 2006, 86).

Regardless of the above scholarship, and the publication of the infra-red photograph, there remains some uncertainty regarding the correct interpretation of the inscription. This may have something to do with a lack of clarity in the initial published infra-red photograph, and the fact that a close examination of the signs within the serekh was still not possible. Such ambiguity is reflected in Kahl’s (1994, 194) Quellenliste where the serekh is placed among a corpus of 350 inscriptions relating to Aha as Quelle Nr. 307, but with a question mark. From a slightly different perspective, Helck (1987, 177) assigned the inscription to Narmer on the basis of the arrangement of the subsidiary signs (see Figures 1-2).5 These signs, interpreted as Df3 and Smaw, with a possible reading of ‘provisions [of] Upper Egypt’, are first attested in association with the name of Narmer (Helck 1987, 177, 186). Both examples of this arrangement as listed by Helck are from Tarkhan (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 31.6970). In addition, it was also noted that these signs were found with the serekh of Aha on two inscriptions from Abu Roash and Zawyet-el Aryan (Helck 1987, 178, 186).6 Along with issues associated with reading the serekh, the date of Tomb 300 has also presented an interpretative challenge. In the first excavation report the tomb was included in a register of 67 hill burials allocated to Sequence Date 80 (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 64). This tomb was later dated to the Naqada IIIC2 period on the basis of pottery found within the burial (Hendrickx 1989; 1996, 68). Hendrickx (1996, 68; 2001, 92) had initially associated the inscription with Aha, but due to the date of the tomb, changed this reading to an unattributed personalised serekh in a subsequent paper. Concurrently, Wilkinson’s (1996, 43) seriation of pottery from selected graves at Tarkhan also confirmed that Tomb 300 should be dated later than the reign of Aha. As a result, the name of Djer was offered as a possible reading of the inscription (Wilkinson 1996, 43).

Figure 3 Infra‐red photograph of UC16085 (E‐Neg. 3298).  Copyright: Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology,  University College London, UC16085

                                                            

THE INSCRIPTION

 

4

Dreyer (1992, 261) is certain that the inscription belongs to Aha, but incorrectly cites UC16985 rather than UC16085 as the Petrie Museum registration number for the jar. 5 The term ‘subsidiary signs’ is adopted here to distinguish these marks from the actual serekh. As discussed by MacArthur (2010, 77), the basic pattern for ink inscriptions is the serekh, along with an indication of provenance or geographic source (either the Smaw plant for Upper Egypt or the mHw plant for Lower Egypt), and the presence of an administrative noun, such as Df3 (translated here as provisions, see Gardiner 1957, sign list G 42; Helck 1987, 177). Reference to a commodity can also form part of the formula, see examples from Saqqara in Saad (1939, 74-76), and from Abydos in Bestock (2009, 76, plate 11). 6 The application of this combination appears restricted to a small number of inscriptions relating to Narmer and Aha, including two labels of Aha from Naqada (Garstang 1905, figures 1-2; Kaplony 1963, 294295; Helck 1987, 146, 186).

A search through a photograph folder at the Petrie Museum revealed two additional unpublished infra-red photographs of UC16085 (E.Negs 3296 and 3298, see Figures 3-4).7 Neither image is the photograph discussed and later published by Kaplony (1963; 1965).8 It would appear that the two additional images were taken at the

                                                             7

I would like to thank Ivor Pridden for locating these E.Negs for me. This photograph is listed as E-168 in the Petrie Museum register under the entry for UC16085.   8

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It Really Is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan  so-called anonymous serekhs (van den Brink, 2001a, 3032). The two earliest known examples of this form of serekh date to the Naqada IIIA2 period, and were found painted in ink on fragments of cylindrical net-patterned jars (Petrie types W62 or 46d) discovered in Tomb U-s at Abydos (Dreyer 1990, 57-58, Abb. 3a-b; 1999,6, Abb. 4a).10 While the chronological development of the serekh in all its forms is still far from clear, its genesis as a device to support the administrative practices of the Thinite polity seems likely.11

same time as new infra-red photographs were made of Tarkhan jars UC16071 and UC16947.9

With regard to the name, the new infra-red image (E. Neg 3296, see Figures 4-5) clearly, and without doubt, confirms that the serekh belonged to Aha, one of the earliest kings of Dynasty 1. The image shows a falcon perched above the frame with its legs extending into the upper compartment of the serekh, while its talons grasp onto a shield and mace. Both signs are associated with the Horus name Aha (see Gardiner 1957, sign list D34). In terms of parallels, the largest concentration of pottery inscribed in ink with the name of Aha was located in Saqqara Tomb 3357, with over 230 examples illustrated in the excavation report for that burial alone (Emery 1939, plates 14, 20-23; Kahl 1994, 195-206). It is interesting to observe that at least 50 of these serekhs appear to have blank upper compartments, while an additional 10 examples depict the legs of the falcon as two strokes or dots (Emery 1939, plates 14, 20-23). The rather incomplete appearance of the name in many of the serekhs may have something to do with the speed of application. As pottery was probably considered ubiquitous, less care may have been taken with inscriptions placed upon this medium. More importantly, the Saqqara inscriptions suggest that the name of Aha could be written in shortened or non-standardised forms, and that these variations were understood to represent Aha by both the scribes and the recipients of the vessels.

 

Figure 4 Infra‐red photograph of the inscription (E‐Neg.  3296). Copyright: Petrie Museum of Egyptian  Archaeology, University College London, UC16085 

As previously noted by Helck (1987, 178), the combination of the Df3 sign and the Smaw sign was also found in association with serekhs of Aha from Zawiyet el-Aryan and Abu Roash. The Zawiyet el-Aryan example is different, with seven vertical lines within the lower compartment of the frame (Dunham 1978, fig 1a, see Figure 6). In addition, the inscription lacks the three horizontal strokes under the serekh.12 Instead another

 

Figure 5 Inscription of Aha. Drawn by Craig Smith.  Based upon an examination of the infra-red close-up photograph (E. Neg 3296, see Figures 4-5), the rectangular frame is divided into two compartments by a straight horizontal line that does not extend across the frame. There appears to be the start of another horizontal line below the first, suggesting that the scribe made an initial mistake in the division of the frame. The lower compartment contains three vertical lines. It has been suggested that these lines may have been intended to imitate the design of panelled palace façade architecture (van den Brink 2001a, 30). Below the frame are three horizontal strokes in descending order of size. The basic arrangement of the frame may have developed from the

                                                            

10 Both of these examples have two horizontal strokes underneath the frame (Dreyer 1990, Abb. 3a-b). 11 For discussions on the origins of the serekh, see Hendrickx (2001, 85110); Jiménez-Serrano (2001, 71-81; 2003, 93-142) and van den Brink (2001a, 24-100; 2001b, 99-11). 12 The three strokes may have functioned as a plural sign (Gardiner 1957, sign list Z2), or as an indication of oil quality (Bestock 2009, 76 with references). Saad (1939, 75) has suggested that the strokes represent the sign for lord (Gardiner 1957, sign list V30) and the sign for land/s (Gardiner 1957, sign list N16) with a reading of ‘lord of the Two Lands’. As the earliest examples of strokes found together with a serekh date to the Naqada IIIA2 period (Dreyer 1990, 57-58, Abb. 3ab), such a reading seems unlikely. It is interesting to note that examples from Saqqara Tomb 3357 place the subsidiary signs between the serekh and the strokes, and also place the strokes to the side of the serekh, suggesting that the position of the strokes within the inscription may not

                                                            

9 All of the photographs were part of order number 253 (no date of order recorded). I would like to thank Stephen Quirke for this information. It is likely that this order was requested by the late Barbara Adams.

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LISA MAWDSLEY sign is present, possibly read as pH (Gardiner 1957, sign list F22), or pH.wi (Kahl 2002, 156). It has been suggested that this sign may refer to a quality or grade of oil, a body of water or the arrival of provisions (Dunham 1978, 1; Helck 1987, 175; Kahl 2002, 156; MacArthur 2008).

(Emery 1939, 14.21, 14.27, 14.34). Although, the Smaw sign is relatively large in comparison with the examples from Saqqara, with the plant extending from the bottom of the serekh to the body of the falcon. The plant is curved towards the serekh, and presuming that the scribe was right-handed, its placement suggests that it would have been the first sign written in the inscription, with the three horizontal lines finishing the formula.

The inscription from Abu Roash was found executed in ink on a fragmented cylindrical type F11 jar (Petrie type 50) (Klasens 1959, 57. fig. 8.1, plate 27.1, see Figure 7).13 Although incomplete, most of the serekh, the three lines below the frame and the Df3 component of the subsidiary formula are preserved. The provenance sign representing either Lower or Upper Egypt is missing. To date, examples of the mHw sign of Lower Egypt in combination with the Df3 sign are lacking from the corpus of published ink inscriptions on pottery jars (Kaplony 1963, 294-295). Considering this information, the addition of the Smaw sign of Upper Egypt to the inscription is suggested. Following Helck (1987, 177178), both inscriptions from Abu Roash and Tarkhan (UC16085) may be read as Hr ‘h3 Df3 Smaw, with a translation of ‘Horus Aha, provisions [from/of] Upper Egypt’.

  Figure 7 Inscription of Aha from Abu Roash. Klasens  1959, figure 8.1.  Concerning the falcon, the tail is straight and the beak is elongated and curved. The palaeography of the bird fits well within the corpus from Tomb 3357 at Saqqara (Emery 1939, plates 14, 20-23). The curve of the beak is also similar to the Abu Roash example (Klasens 1959, fig. 8.1, see Figure 7), and to one executed in ink on an ovoid storage jar from the northeast subsidiary grave of the Aha II enclosure at the North Cemetery, Abydos (Bestock 2009, plate 11). THE PROBLEM OF TOMB 300 The presence of a vessel inscribed with the name of an early Naqada IIIC1 ruler in a tomb dated to the Naqada IIIC2 period does not in itself constitute a problem. The vessel may have been an heirloom,15 and was placed within the Naqada IIIC2 burial as an item of prestige and value. However, the fact that the cylindrical jar was not recorded in the register entry for this burial does present a major problem.16 This crucial omission must call into question the association of UC16085 with Tomb 300.

  Figure 6 Inscription of Aha from Zawiyet el‐Aryan.  Dunham 1978, figure 1a. Before discussing Tomb 300, some comment on the style of the Smaw plant and the falcon sitting atop the serekh should be made. The Smaw on UC16085 is plain with four small branches or shoots projecting from the stem of the plant (Gardiner 1957, sign list M23). It does not include the additional horizontal line above the stem taken to represent the flowering of the plant (Gardiner 1957, sign list M26).14 Several of the Smaw examples from Tomb 3357 at Saqqara bear a strong resemblance to UC16085

                                                                                                 have been fixed at this time (see Emery 1939, plate 20.170, 20.174, 20.197-199). 13 Although a photograph of the damaged vessel was included in the site report, the inscription is not listed in the ‘Album of Antiquities’ made by Klasens for the Antiquities Service, Leiden, therefore indicating that the inscribed fragments were not donated to the Rijksmuseum van Oudheden (RMO), Leiden. I would like to thank Maarten Raven, Curator, Egyptian Department, RMO, for this information and for kindly examining the original list on my behalf. 14 The addition of this line was made to the stem of the plant on the Narmer inscription from Tarkhan (see Figure 2), suggesting that the flowering version was depicted in this instance.

The entry for Tomb 300 in the register of burials is rather sparse, but records the size of the grave and the types of pottery found in the burial (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 64). The pottery includes bowl types 19w, 27p, 38r and an ovoid-storage jar type 63l, suggesting a Naqada IIIC2 date for the tomb (Hendrickx 2001, 92). As noted above, the cylindrical jar is not mentioned in this entry, although adjacent to the published illustration of the serekh is the number 300 (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 31.70; see Figure 1).

                                                            

15 On heirlooms, see Lillios (1999, 235-236) and Jeffreys (2003, 197212). 16 The absence of the jar had already been noted by Kaiser and Dreyer (1982, 267) and Hendrickx (1996, 68).

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It Really Is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan 

Figure 8 Front and reverse of the tomb card for grave 300A. Copyright Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology,  University College London 

 

  Figure 9 Front and reverse of the tomb card for grave 300B. Copyright Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology,  University College London

119

LISA MAWDSLEY This number is also marked in ink on the upper body of the jar, apparently confirming the provenance of the vessel (see Figure 3). A perusal of the excavation report revealed that while all of the other tombs with inscribed vessels are mentioned in a discussion of important graves, Tomb 300 is omitted from this section of the report (see Petrie et al. 1913, 7-13). Of course, such an oversight may have been a simple mistake by Petrie, but signalled the need for further investigation.

Arknell, a former curator of the Petrie Museum, during the process of unpacking and re-organising the collection after the Second World War.22 Given the above evidence, I believe that UC16085 should no longer be associated with Tomb 300A (Naqada IIIC2), but rather with unpublished Tomb 300B (Naqada IIIC1).

DISCUSSION The primary function of serekh inscriptions applied in ink to pottery was first and foremost administrative. These inscriptions were used to record the collection or supply of commodities, and are generally considered to be taxation-related marks (Kaplony 1963, 296; Dreyer 1990, 66). In opposition to this view, Kahl (1995, 171-172) has proposed a funerary rather than economic function for these inscriptions. Recently, MacArthur (2010, 92) has argued that as inscribed cylindrical jars may have served as royal funerary gifts, the inscriptions were perhaps intended to represent an “abstract system of levies”, rather than an actual system of product distribution. However, the application of identical inscriptions on other vessel types such as ovoid storage jars,23 suggests a more wide-spread and practical function related to commodity control and redistribution. The limited, but varied, subsidiary signs applied to ink inscriptions would further indicate that there was some administrative need to identify different commodities or product sources.

A search of the original tomb cards at the Petrie Museum identified that there was not one but two graves allocated the number 300.17 The first card contained the pottery details and grave dimensions of Tomb 300 as listed in the published register.18 The second card labelled Tomb 300 lists details not present in the published register and probably represents an instance of two different tombs being assigned the same tomb number. As the tomb number on the card was marked with an asterisk, this suggests that someone was aware of the duplicate numbering.19 To avoid confusion, the Tomb 300 listed in the register will be referred to as 300A (Figure 8), while the duplicate unpublished tomb is 300B (Figure 9). Both tombs were disturbed, but appear to have been relatively simple oval pit burials. The pit of 300A is approximately 4.6 m3 in volume, while 300B is significantly smaller at 1.5 m3 in volume. Tomb 300A contained the partial remains of a skeleton, while 300B no longer contained any human remains. Based on the noted difference in tomb volume, it is clear that 300A and 300B are separate and distinct tombs.20 It is most unfortunate that Petrie failed to record the location of either tomb on the Hill maps (Petrie et al. 1913, plates 70-76, Petrie 1914, plate 47). Both Hills K and L contain burials allocated numbers in the 300 range, but as the number sequences are inconsistent across the cemetery it is impossible to be more specific.21

Given the limited distribution and differing provenance of jars with ink inscriptions, the best approach may be to examine each context on a case by case basis. The masses of ink inscribed pottery deposited in Tomb 3357 at Saqqara may well represent funerary gifts sent from estates of the king to the mastaba of this high-ranking elite member of society. In this instance, the inscriptons could have served as a visual and symbolic statement of the relationship between the tomb owner and the king.

The tomb card for 300B recorded the presence of a cylindrical jar marked as 89-50 on the front of the card. The reverse of the card illustrates three cylindrical jars all marked with the words ‘W. Plain’ (Figure 9). The jars contained ash and were found two feet above the floor of the grave, presumably in the disturbed fill of the burial. Next to one of the vessels are the words ‘(W. Plain) inscribed’, written at the time the burial was recorded. Below this is the UC museum number 16085 written in ink. This number was added to the tomb card by Tony

In the case of UC16085, the reasons why this vessel was deposited in Tomb 300B at Tarkhan may be more difficult to identify.24 MacArthur (2010, 92-93) has suggested that the presence of vessels with ink inscriptions at Tarkhan may be indicative of a personal relationship between the tomb-owner and the ruling king. As already discussed, Tomb 300B is a relatively simple pit burial, lacking any evidence of the mudbrick architecture associated with the larger Naqada IIIC1-C2 tombs located in the hills of the cemetery. Given this information, the notion of the jar as a funerary gift given to an elite official at Tarkhan by the king becomes problematic,25 leading one to question exactly why such a vessel was placed in this particular tomb.

                                                            

17 I would like to thank Richard Langley for providing me with scans of these tomb cards. 18 In addition, five type 63l storage jars are drawn on this tomb card. 19 Duplication also occurs with numbers 195 and 336 (Petrie et al. 1913, plates 61, 63-64). Further examples include graves 861 and 862 from Hill N, both of which share the same numbers as burials in the Valley cemetery (Petrie et al. 1913, plate 75; Petrie 1914, plate 37). 20 The Petrie Museum register entry for UC16085 records that there were two tomb cards, but does not distinguish between the two. The contents of Tomb 300B are taken to be the fill of Tomb 300A. 21 Hendrickx (1996, 68) suggests either Hill A or Hill L as the likely location of Tomb 300A. However, the map for Hill A does not contain graves in the 300 sequence (Petrie el al. 1913, plate 70). The inconsistent approach to tomb numbering is also seen in the 400 sequence where tombs in this range appear in Hills A, B, C, E and F (Petrie et al. 1913, plates 70-73).  

                                                             22

My thanks to Stephen Quirke for this information. See for example, Bestock (2009, figure 74, plate 11). 24 It is impossible to assess the significance of the original positioning of UC16085 within the burial due to the highly disturbed nature of the tomb and the lack of any skeletal remains. 25 I do not dismiss MacArthur’s (2010, 92-93) suggestion out of hand as such a scenario is plausible in the case of the owner of Tarkhan Tomb 414, where the serekh of Narmer was found incised on a wine jar and on several seal impressions in this burial (Petrie et al. 1913, plates 11, 31). 23

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It Really Is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan  The answer to this question is far from clear, but I would argue that the placement of the ink inscribed jar in Tomb 300B reflects a secondary stage in the life-history of that vessel. The path to acquisition by the tomb-owner will remain hypothetical, although a number of scenarios are worth considering. These include: 1) that the contents of the vessel represented some form of payment to the tombowner for work undertaken on behalf of the royal or regional administration, or 2) that the vessel was acquired during the life-time of the tomb-owner, but only after it had ceased to serve its primary function as a commodity carrier, or 3) that the vessel was placed in the tomb as a funerary gift with the intention of expressing a social relationship once held in life between the tomb-owner and the donor.26 In the first two scenarios, the tombowner may have taken responsibility for pre-selecting some of his or her grave goods. In contrast, the third scenario alerts us to the role played by mourners in the selection and placement of specific goods with the deceased.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS For their kind assistance with material from the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology, I would like to thank Stephen Quirke, Ivor Pridden and Richard Langley. Research at the Petrie Museum was made possible by a Monash University Equity Travel Grant and a further grant from the Faculty of Arts, Monash University, along with the Georgina Sweet Bursary awarded by the Australian Federation of University Women-Victoria. I would like to thank Elise MacArthur for providing me with copies of her papers prior to publication in the spirit of co-operative research. I wish to thank Craig Smith for assistance in the preparation of the figures, and Maarten Raven for information regarding the Abu Roash inscription. Thanks must go to Colin Hope for his support of my research, and to Gillian Bowen, who was at the time of travel, my associate supervisor. I would also like to thank the anonymous referee who provided a number of useful suggestions that improved this paper. Finally, I wish to thank Christian Knoblauch for his encouragement of my work, and for providing me with the opportunity to present aspects of this research at the FACYE.

There is no doubt that a vessel inscribed with the name of a king would have been considered an item of value, presuming of course that the inscription could be read, or at the very least, there was some awareness of its significance. It is possible that ownership of such a vessel may have enhanced the social standing of the individual in question, although this does not appear to be reflected in the architecture or size of Tomb 300B.27 It is interesting to note that a recent study of vessels with potmarks at Tarkhan has demonstrated that the funerary use of such vessels was not restricted to elite or wealthy graves (Mawdsley 2009, 208). Considering this information, I venture to suggest that the vessel was more likely deposited within Tomb 300B due to its rarity and prestige value, rather than to symbolise any direct association with the named king.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bestock, L. 2009. The Development of Royal Funerary Cult at Abydos: Two Funerary Enclosures from the Reign of Aha. Menes 5. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Dreyer, G. 1990. ‘Umm el-Qaab, Nachuntersuchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof. 3./4. Vorbericht’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 46: 53-90. Dreyer, G. 1992. ‘Horus Krokodil, ein Gegenkönig der Dynastie 0’. In The Followers of Horus: Studies dedicated to Michael Allen Hoffman, 1949-1990, edited by Friedman, R; Adams, B. Oxford: Oxbow, 259-263.

CONCLUSION

Dreyer, G. 1999. ‘Ein Gefäß mit Ritzmarke des Narmer’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 55: 1-6.

Absolutely no credit is taken here for the identification of Aha as the named ruler of the UC16085 inscription. This recognition rests firmly with Kaplony (1965). However, this new research has demonstrated how a photograph of uncertain clarity, together with the presumed association of an absent vessel with a tomb dated to the Naqada IIIC2 period, have influenced the various published interpretations of this inscription. I believe that the most important outcome of this research has been to identify the correct provenance for UC16085 as unpublished Tomb 300B (Naqada IIIC1), rather than as published Tomb 300A (Naqada IIIC2). Finally, it is hoped that this paper has demonstrated what valuable insights can be gained through the process of re-examining the original site data from Tarkhan in its entirety.

Dunham, D. 1978. Zawiyet el-Aryan: The Cemeteries Adjacent to the Later Pyramid. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts. Emery, W. B. 1939. Hor-Aha: Excavations at Saqqara 1937-1938. Cairo: Government Press. Gardiner, A. 1957. Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs. 3rd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

                                                                                                 Such an explanation is certainly worth considering on a case by case basis. 26 On how burials and their related objects may be used to reveal aspects of the social relationships once associated with the life of the tombowner, see Wengrove (2006, 165-166) and Stevenson (2009, 175-192). 27 The use of tomb size or form as an index for social ranking has been criticised recently by Stevenson (2009, 176).

Garstang, J. 1905. ‘The Tablet of Mena’. Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 42: 61-64. Helck, W. 1987. Untersuchungen zur Thinitenzeit. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 45. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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LISA MAWDSLEY Hendrickx, S. 1989. De grafvelden der Naqada-cultur in Zuid-Egypte, met bijzondere aandacht voor het Naqada III grafveld te Elkab. Interne chronologie en sociale differentiatie. Ph.D. thesis. Leuven: Katholieke Universiteit.

Kaplony, P. 1963. Die Inschriften der ägyptischen Frühzeit, 3 volumes. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 8. Wiesbaden. Harrassowitz. Kaplony, P. 1965. ‘Eine Schminkpalette von König Skorpion aus Abu ‘Umûri’. Orientalia 34: 132-167.

Hendrickx, S. 1996. ‘The relative chronology of the Naqada culture: problems and possibilities’. In Aspects of Early Egypt, edited by Spencer, A. J. London: British Museum Press, 36-69.

Klasens, A. 1959. ‘The excavations of the Leiden Museum of Antiquities at Abu Roash, Report of the Second Season: 1958. Part II, Cemetery 400’. Oudheidkundige Mededelingen uit het Rijksmuseum van Oudheden te Leiden 40: 41-61.

Hendrickx, S. 2001. ‘Arguments for an Upper Egyptian origin of the palace-façade and the serekh during Late Predynastic-Early Dynastic times’. Göttinger Miszellen 184: 85-110.

Lillios, K. 1999. ‘Objects of memory: The ethnography and archaeology of heirlooms’. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 6: 235-262.

Hendrickx, S. 2006. ‘Predynastic-Early Dynastic Chronology’. In Ancient Egyptian Chronology , edited by Hornung, E; Krauss, R; Warburton, D. A. Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section 1: The Near and Middle East, 83. Leiden: Brill, 55-93.

MacArthur, E. V. 2008. In search of the sDm=f: The conception and development of hieroglyphic writing through the reign of Aha. Paper presented at the Third International Colloquium “Origins of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, London, 27th July-1st August 2008.

Jeffreys, D. 2003. ‘All in the family: heirlooms in ancient Egypt’. In ‘Never had the Like occurred’: Egypt’s View of its Past, edited by Tait, J. London: University College of London Press; Institute of Archaeology, 197-212.

MacArthur, E. V. 2010. ‘The pots and people of Tarkhan’. Cahiers Caribéens d’Egyptologie 13-14: 7398.

Jiménez Serrano, A. 2001. ‘The origin of the palace-façade as representation of Lower Egyptian ‘elites’. Göttinger Miszellen 183: 71-81.

Mawdsley, L. 2009. ‘The corpus of potmarks from Tarkhan’. British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and the Sudan 13: 197-219.

Jiménez Serrano, A. 2003. ‘Chronology and local traditions: the representation of power and the royal name in the Late Predynastic period’. Archéo-Nil 13: 93-142.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1914. Tarkhan II. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 26. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt.

Kahl, J. 1994. Das System der ägyptischen Hieroglyphenschrift in der 0.-3. Dynastie. Göttinger Orientforschung, 4. Reihe: Ägyptologie 29. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1921. Corpus of Prehistoric Pottery and Palettes. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 32. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt; Constable & Co and Quaritch.

Kahl, J. 1995. ‘Zur Problematik der sogenannten Steuervermerke in Ägypten der 0.-1. Dynastie’. In Divitiae Aegypti: Koptologische und verwandte Studien zu Ehren von Martin Krause, edited by Fluck, L; Richter, S; Schaten, S; Wurst, G. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 168-176.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1953. Ceremonial Slate Palettes, Corpus of Proto-Dynastic Pottery. British School of Egyptian Archaeology 66(A). London: British School of Egyptian Archaeology; Quaritch.

Kahl, J. 2002. Frühägyptisches Wörterbuch. Erste Lieferung a-f. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Kaiser, W. 1957. ‘Zur inneren Chronologie Naqadakultur’. Archaeologia Geographica 6: 69-77.

Petrie, W. M. F; Wainwright, G. A; Gardiner, A. H. 1913. Tarkhan I and Memphis V. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 23. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt.

der

Saad, Z. 1939. ‘Pottery inscriptions’ in Emery, W. B. Hor-Aha: Excavations at Saqqara 1937-1938. Cairo: Government Press, 74-76.

Kaiser, W. 1964. ‘Einige Bemerkungen zur ägyptischen Frühzeit, III’. Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 91: 86-125.

Stevenson, A. 2009. ‘Social relationships in Predynastic burials’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 95: 175-192.

Kaiser, W; Dreyer, G. 1982. ‘Umm el-Qaab, Nachuntersuchungen im frühzeitlichen Königsfriedhof. 2. Vorbericht’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 38: 211-269.

van den Brink, E. C. M. 2001a. ‘The pottery-incised serekh-signs of Dynasties 0-1, Part II: fragments and additional complete vessels’. Archéo-Nil 11: 23-100.

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It Really Is Aha: Re-examining an Early Dynastic Ink Inscription from Tarkhan  van den Brink , E. C. M. 2001b. ‘Some comments in the margins of the origin of the palace-façade as representations of Lower Egyptian ‘elites’. Göttinger Miszellen 183: 99-111. Wengrove, D. 2006. The Archaeology of Early Egypt: Social Transformations in North-East Africa, 10,000 to 2650 BC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wilkinson, T. A. H. 1996. State Formation in Egypt: Chronology and Society. Oxford: BAR Publishing.

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Invisible History: The First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) Museum Exhibitionsa Melanie Pitkin At the 8th International Congress of Egyptologists in Cairo 2000, Regine Schulz, Curator of the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, presented a provocative paper on the relationships between Egyptology and Museology, arguing for a lack of understanding and cooperation between the two disciplines (Schulz 2000). She demonstrated how the changing role of the curator, in the context of administrative, financial and political pressures, places the care, display, interpretation and promotion of Egyptian objects in museums in an increasingly precarious state.

daily life, and for the more privileged museums, coffins and literary texts as well.2 However, there is a stigma attached to these, as First Intermediate Period material culture is generally perceived to be less aesthetically interesting and of poorer quality overall, which, when translated into museum monetary terms, unfortunately implies less audience appeal, less impact and marketability and therefore lower priority for display. Based on the endless ambiguities presented to us through this lack of material culture is the inability for First Intermediate Period history to be reconstructed in any sort of a seamless or cohesive way. We can, however, piece together a relative sequence of major developments, which includes:

The purpose of this paper is to discuss how these factors are penetrable using the collections of the First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) museums as a case study. My paper intends to raise awareness of the state of display of First Intermediate Period collections in UK museums, to explore some of the reasons why the displays are this way, from both a museological and historical point of view, and to demonstrate what impact this has on museum audiences.

1) 2) 3) 4) 5) 6)

In April 2009 I had the opportunity to study and explore the First Intermediate Period collections in eight different UK museums, including the World Museums Liverpool, the John Garstang Museum, the British Museum, the Bolton Museum & Art Gallery, the Petrie Museum and the Ashmolean, Fitzwilliam and Manchester Museums.1 Although each of these institutions differs on the basis of its structure (as a university, national or council museum), and therefore its funding, they coincidentally share, for the most part, one common feature: a minimalist or non-existent approach to the display and interpretation of First Intermediate Period history and collections.

7)

The collapse of the Memphite capital. The rise of the Herakleopolitans. The administration of the Herakleopolitans. The rise of the Intef family in Thebes. The administration of the Thebans. The rivalry between the Thebans and Herakleopolitans. The downfall of the Herakleopolitans and the reunification of all Egypt by Mentuhotep II.

Embedded in and around each of these developments are a number of critical, unanswered questions, which signify for us the interruptions in this narrative. For example:  Chronologically speaking, did the First Intermediate Period span Dynasties 7 - early 11 (after the reign of Pepy II and after the last monumental building campaign) or Dynasties 9 early 11 (with the rise of the Herakleopolitans and

Historically and archaeologically, it is widely accepted that the First Intermediate Period is ‘foggy’, and is mostly tangible to us today through the remains of private individuals from the provincial settlements and burial grounds. The state of museum collections containing First Intermediate Period objects is small, in comparison with other periods, consisting mostly of inscribed stelae and false doors (often fragmentary), pottery, seals, objects of

2 The fragmentary nature of First Intermediate Period material culture is reflected through the collections in UK museums examined in this paper. The World Museums Liverpool has very little First Intermediate Period material: a stela from Naqada, an inscribed Herakleopolitan vase, coffin, offering table, statue and ‘soul house’. The John Garstang Museum has two stelae from Naqada and a collection of undated, although possibly thought to be, examples of First Intermediate Period pottery sherds and vessels. The British Museum has a particularly extensive collection of stelae and false doors (including the iconic stelae of Intef and Tjetji), wooden models, coffins, jewellery and pottery, as well as the Complaints of Khakheperre-soneb (often related to the First Intermediate Period text, the Admonitions of Ipuwer). The Bolton Museum & Art Gallery has a strong collection of stelae from Dendera. The Petrie Museum holds a group of stelae and inscribed stone slabs from Koptos and Dendera and some unprovenanced examples, in addition to button seals, wooden models and pottery; the Ashmolean holds jewellery, stelae and false doors, objects of daily life, statuary and pottery; the Fitzwilliam holds a few isolated examples of false doors and stelae fragments, as does the Manchester Museum (along with a large number of small stone fragments said to be of First Intermediate Period date).

a This paper is relevant to the state of UK (specifically England) museum exhibition displays as at September 2009. 1 I must thank the following staff at the respective museums for their assistance with my research: Mr Ashley Cooke, World Museums Liverpool; Miss Patricia Winkler, John Garstang Museum; Dr Nigel Strudwick and Mr Marcel Maree, British Museum; Mr Tom Hardwick, Bolton Museum & Art Gallery; Ms Sally MacDonald and Dr Stephen Quirke, University College London; Dr Helen Whitehouse, Ashmolean Museum; Mrs Helen Strudwick, Fitzwilliam Museum and Dr Karen Exell, Manchester Museum.

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shift in administrative focus from the Memphite capital to the provinces)? Is Manetho correct in his suggestion of a very long absolute history for the First Intermediate Period of more than 700 years (Manetho, Frs. 23-32)? Or, should we agree with the more popular modern scholarly opinion of a shorter absolute history of around 140 years?3 From where did the Herakleopolitans administer the country? Thirty years of excavations in and around Ihnasya el-Medina (ancient Herakleopolis) has failed to reveal any real conclusive evidence that this was, indeed, the site.4 Who were the 7th and 8th Dynasty and Herakleopolitan kings? Our ancient king lists do not match up and in some cases omit kings and dynasties altogether. Nor have the Herakleopolitan rulers left us anything of significance in the archaeological record. What was the precise course of events leading to the reunification of Egypt by Mentuhotep II? What was the fate of the Herakleopolitan capital and what was the fate of the last Herakleopolitan king?

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Having now identified the obstacles, we will turn our attention to the way these are transparent in real world cases of First Intermediate Period exhibition displays. The British Museum has the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities outside of Egypt and one of the largest collections of First Intermediate Period objects in the United Kingdom. Yet, despite this rich collection, there is very little textual or visual record in the public galleries to even indicate to the layperson that the First Intermediate Period ever existed.

What this shows, without getting too bogged down in historical detail, which is a paper in itself, is that there is no simple or straightforward narrative for the First Intermediate Period and for the museum curator considering the communication of this period to audiences. He/she is disconcertingly faced with the issues of complex subject matter, multiple gaps in the evidence, a lack of representative material culture, a range of differing and yet plausible theorizations and therefore, a non-universally agreed chronology and overall history.

On the ground floor, in the sculpture gallery, are two pieces of inscribed stone (the tomb slab of Nihebsedpepy and the stela of Inheretnakht and his wife Hu) displayed with a First Intermediate Period date printed on the object labels (Figure 1). However, both of these objects are actually displayed under the ‘Old Kingdom’ themed section of the gallery, providing no indication of a division or change in the Egyptian dynastic record (Figure 2).

The issue of communicating the First Intermediate Period in a museum exhibition is by no means limited to historical content alone. The museum curator is also faced with a list of other problems,5 spanning more practical matters, such as:    

Conditions and demands placed on the content of galleries, as well as hidden agendas by sponsors, government and senior management. The availability of exhibition space and museum display equipment. Word limits on exhibition labels to concisely interpret the history and collections. Exhibition spaces competing for the time of museum audiences, who in today’s technologically savvy culture expect information immediately. The visitor’s path, which is completely arbitrary and often does not follow that which has been mindfully constructed by the museum. What is more, Egyptian exhibitions tend to communicate Egyptian history through the grandeur of the more accessible pharaonic culture, but when looking at the First Intermediate Period, we must turn to the lives of ordinary and nonroyal peoples. This is a significant shift in both the museum mentality and in audience expectations.

Lack of staff expertise and enthusiasm for the First Intermediate Period. Intellectual cowardice (or the resistance of the curator to tackle the ‘unknown’). Assumptions by museum staff about what type of content they think would or would not appeal to audiences. The increasing power and influence of museum educators, designers, registrars and conservators on the final content, shape and form of an exhibition.

In fact, these themed panels are included for all other periods in Egyptian history, beginning with the Predynastic Period, and including the Second and Third Intermediate Periods, right up until the Greco-Roman period. Each panel provides an introduction to the objects on display in that section and describes the main characteristics and events of these periods; however, as for the First Intermediate Period, its place and importance in Egyptian history is invisible. The only other First Intermediate Period objects on display in the British Museum appear upstairs, in the corner of the Roxy Walker funerary gallery. Here there is a single display case dedicated to the tomb finds of

3

A 140 year length history for the First Intermediate Period is argued by Stock (1949), von Beckerath (1962 and 1984), Schenkel (1962), Helck (1968), Goedicke (1969), Hayes (1970), Ward (1971) and Gomaa (1980). 4 The Spanish team led by Carmen Pérez-Die of the National Archaeological Museum of Madrid have been excavating at Ihnasya elMedina since 1966. 5 Also discussed by Raven (2000, 105-106)

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Invisible History: The First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) Museum Exhibitions

Figure 1 Images showing the only First Intermediate Period dated objects on display in the ground floor sculpture  gallery at the British Museum (Photography by Melanie Pitkin, 2009).     

  Figure 2 Detail showing Old Kingdom history themed panel (one of two in the gallery). Both First Intermediate Period  dated objects are grouped under this section (Photography by Melanie Pitkin, 2009).

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MELANIE PITKIN Hetepnebi (tomb No. 56 from Asyut) (Figure 3).6 Apart from a panel that colour-codes a floor plan of the showcases with each chronological phase of Egyptian history (Figure 4) and a general date reference to the First Intermediate Period, there is, again, an absence of any contextual or historical interpretation for these objects.

of the First Intermediate Period in Ancient Egyptian chronology at all. The word ‘imposed’ has been used here, given that the British Museum, Bolton Museum and Ashmolean Museums present these dates in an authoritative manner, without putting them into the wider context of other plausible theories, which have equal weight given the gaps in the knowledge and the archaeological record. In fact, it is this type of dictatorial display that has its origins in the 19th and early 20th century museum (Bennett 1995, 17-58). At this time, museums were unashamedly elitist and had a responsibility for teaching and civilising the masses (Bennett 1995, 18-24). While teaching, or more preferably, the element of learning, is still very much central to the idea of the 21st century museum, there has been a huge shift from the notion that the museum and its curators are the keepers and ‘selective’ distributors of knowledge, to the idea of the museum and its curators as facilitators of knowledge where audiences are given as much control and opportunity to create and contribute their own meaning. This paper recognises the impact museum history and traditions have on their displays. As Stephanie Moser observes in Wondrous Curiosities (Moser 2006, 221), for example, at museums like the British Museum, which was founded 250 years ago, the display of Egyptian collections were initially derived from the arrangement of classical sculptures; that is, for their aesthetic appeal. Objects were selected and coordinated in situations that were thought to be visually pleasing and this approach also dominated given the overall lack of historical understanding that prevailed for some time. For example, hieroglyphs were an undeciphered script until 1822 and a more empirical approach to Egyptian archaeology did not truly evolve until the 1850s.

Figure 3 Showcase dedicated to the tomb finds of  Hetepnebi, Asyut (Photography by Marcel Maree. Image  courtesy of the British Museum, 2009). 

The selection of objects on display is also determined by the physical design of the gallery space. The British Museum’s sculpture gallery, for instance (with its very high ceilings), has really been designed to showcase very large objects (at least two meters tall), which makes it incredibly difficult to balance when in the presence of smaller sculpture.7 Nor is it easy to reorganise the key objects in the gallery to help flesh out the Egyptian history that is currently underrepresented, as many of the objects require the use of a crane to move them.8 Yet can’t we still flesh out the history without using physical objects? Labels and theme panels, audio visuals and interactives are all examples of ‘gap-fillers’, or interpretive devices, that can supplement the display of objects if limited by space or even a weak collection.

If we look more closely at the dates prescribed to the First Intermediate Period on theme panels and labels, it will be observed that the British Museum imposes, without qualification, a dynastic date range of ‘Dynasties 7 - early 11’. However, this is not consistently presented, as ‘Dynasties 7 - early 11’ appears on the graphic chronological timelines upstairs, ‘Dynasties 7 - 10’ appears on the graphic chronological timelines downstairs and an absolute date (without any dynastic indication) appears on each of the object labels (Figure 4). If we compare the dates in the British Museum with other UK Museums, it will be reinforced just how erratically the First Intermediate Period is communicated. The Bolton Museum and Art Gallery presents a dynastic date range of Dynasties 7 – 10, the Ashmolean Museum presents a dynastic date range of Dynasties 9 - 11, while the World Museums Liverpool and the Manchester and Fitzwilliam Museums do not acknowledge the placement

Apart from the aesthetic and chronological arrangements of displays as already discussed, museums also have the option to display objects thematically or by subject area and this is a choice increasing in popularity amongst some museums today.

6 There are discrepancies in the dating of the Hetepnebi material. In Robins (1997, 24) it is listed as Sixth Dynasty; however, exhibition labels clearly attest a First Intermediate Period date.

7 8

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Personal communication with Dr Nigel Strudwick (April, 2009). Personal communication with Dr Nigel Strudwick (April, 2009).

Invisible History: The First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) Museum Exhibitions

  Figure 4 Differing label communication for the chronology of the First Intermediate Period displayed in the British  Museum Egyptian galleries (Photography by Melanie Pitkin, 2009). 

  Figure 5 Chronological layouts for the Egyptian galleries in the Bolton Museum (left) and the Ashmolean Museum  (right) (Photography by Melanie Pitkin, 2009 (left); Image courtesy of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford (right)).  For example, the displays in the recently reopened Egyptian galleries at the World Museums Liverpool are divided into areas like jewellery, transport, divine animals, magic and communication.9 The collections are presented in such a way that audiences can relate them to their own everyday lives, creating points of discussion for visitors, in particular the Museum’s intended audience group of teachers and school students and family groups with young children. However, I would argue that the thematic arrangement of objects, unless meaningfully 9

connected, also means the loss of any overall sense of chronology or historical perspective. To demonstrate another point in case for this, in the upstairs Egyptian galleries at the British Museum, the sponsors supporting these galleries influence their content; for instance, the Roxy Walker funerary galleries, the Beverley and Raymond Sackler galleries of Egypt in Africa and Early Egypt and the John Addis Islamic gallery. Although there is some idea of a relative chronology presented within each gallery (from the earliest to the latest of times) this feeling of development

The Egyptian galleries re-opened on December 5, 2008.

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MELANIE PITKIN

  Figure 6 Chronological timeline for Ancient Egypt as reflected in the physical layout of the Ashmolean Museum’s  Egyptian Galleries (Image courtesy of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford).    the First Intermediate Period (Dynasties 7 - 10) cover a starts and stops again as you progress throughout each short time of political confusion, but in the provinces separate space, to the point, in my opinion, where all of there are few signs of change or unrest”. The key word Egyptian history becomes blurred. This point in fact is here is “confusion”; self-confessed confusion on the part reinforced by a series of focus groups held at the British of the curator and an assumed confusion that would be Museum in 2000, where it was realised that “among inferred by audiences in the event that they were general audiences, there was no evidence of an presented with any more detailed information on the First understanding of chronology or sense of historical Intermediate Period. perspective: Ancient Egypt is a sealed bubble in which pharaohs, pyramids, slaves, tombs and Cleopatra float In the Ashmolean Museum, on the other hand, two labels around in a rich soup” (Macdonald 2003, 96). provide interpretation for the cause of the decline of the Old Kingdom and onset of the First Intermediate Period The blurring of time can be similarly observed at the and for the reflection of political division in the country Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. Across two rooms, on the diversity of regional styles in material culture. In the collection is actually showcased chronologically in a fact, the Ashmolean provides a strong voice for the First figure-of-eight layout. One First Intermediate Period Intermediate Period in stark contrast to other UK object is on display: the false door of Hemy-re (Dynasty museums, complementing this with a colour-coded 10), but nowhere on the object label or on the historical timeline which is reflected in the physical layout of the timeline is the First Intermediate Period acknowledged. exhibition space and the movement of the Nile River The false door is simply displayed between the Old (Figure 6). However, in the context of the major Kingdom and Middle Kingdom designated spaces of the refurbishments that have recently taken place at the gallery, wrongly implying a sense of continuity and Ashmolean Museum, this traditional chronological stability in Egyptian history. display is steadily being replaced by a thematic one, At the Bolton Museum and Art Gallery and at the therefore disregarding the historical framework for the Ashmolean Museum, a clear chronological path is collections in favour of an emphasis on popular and assumed, made easier by the smaller gallery spaces and aesthetic appeal and more or less returning to the arrangement of the display cases, which direct visitors approach first witnessed in museums 250 years ago.10 along a more or less single path (Figure 5). It is also these However, I would argue that this is not in the interests of museums that are the only ones to try and attempt some Egyptology, or for that matter any other history. Such a sort of a historical explanation for the First Intermediate decision debases audiences, creating a focus on ‘light Period. learning’ or the more commonly used term ‘edutainment’ The Bolton Museum and Art Gallery very briefly makes an indirect reference to the character of the period on a site label for Dendera, stating “the Late Old Kingdom and

10 The ‘sneak preview’ display of Sir Arthur Evans’ work at Knossos and the Minoan civilisation displayed before the Egyptian galleries in the Ashmolean museum (the prototype for the new refurbished exhibition galleries) demonstrates this.

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Invisible History: The First Intermediate Period in United Kingdom (UK) Museum Exhibitions Hayes, W. 1970. ‘Chronology I: Egypt to the end of the Twentieth Century’. In Cambridge Ancient History, edited by Edwards, I. E. S. London: Cambridge Ancient History Press, 180-181.

and casts aside the value of displaying a breadth of objects across both time and place for its ability to advance studies and knowledge. By using museums in the UK as a case study, this paper has tried to demonstrate that the Egyptology-Museology bond, in the context of First Intermediate Period history, is severely lacking. Museums have a responsibility for not only showcasing the breadth of their collections, but also for providing a historical framework for these collections and giving audiences the opportunity to encounter both the familiar and unfamiliar; as a museum is often the first point of contact for audiences with the past, which inspires greater learning and interest followed up in books, study and travel. It is also a great disservice to the field of Egyptology to obscure a period which was so pivotal in Egyptian history, as the First Intermediate Period gave rise to the Coffin Texts, cartonnage masks, stelae, everyday objects used as grave goods and provincial dynamism, to name just a few of the wideranging innovations (Seidlmayer 2002, 126). At the same time, however, this paper acknowledges the inevitable challenges facing museums in being able to do this; that is, a lack of money and resources.

Helck, W. 1968. Geschichte des Alten Ägypten. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Macdonald, S. 2003. ‘Lost in time and space: ancient Egypt in museums’. In Consuming Ancient Egypt, edited by Macdonald, S; Rice, M. London: University College London; Institute of Archaeology, 87-99. Manetho. Translated W. G. Waddell. 1971. Loeb Classical Library. 4th edition. London: Heinemann Ltd. Moser, S. 2006. Wondrous Curiosities: Ancient Egypt at the British Museum. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Raven, M. J. 2000. ‘Response to R. Schulz’. In Egyptology at the Dawn of the 21st Century. Proceedings of the 8th International Congress of Egyptologists, Vol.3 edited by Hawass, Z. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 105-106.

So, where should museums with First Intermediate Period history and collections go to from here? In a field like archaeology where new excavation work and research can, in the long run, completely change our understanding of a particular point in time, it is important that the museum gives itself enough room to be receptive to these changes. One of the most important expectations placed on a museum today is that it remains relevant and with the times. Fortunately, digital technologies and the ability to feed, edit, delete and respond to information on the internet 24/7 is one way around this. It is a costeffective measure, but creating that link between the virtual and the physical museum is not easy. Public programs, including floor talks and lectures, are another quick and easy solution to supplementing gaps in the museum display, but of course this is only a fleeting measure, and one which is more likely to attract an informed audience.

Robins, G. 1997. The Art of Ancient Egypt. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Schenkel, W. 1962. Frühmittelägyptische Studien. Bonn: Selbstverlag des Orientalischen Seminars der Universität Bonn. Schulz, R. 2000. ‘Museology, Egyptology, and Marketing Interests: A Contradiction?’. In Egyptology at the Dawn of the 21st Century. Proceedings of the 8th International Congress of Egyptologists, Vol. 3 edited by Hawass, Z. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 95-106. Seidlmayer, S. J. 2002. ‘The First Intermediate Period’. In The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Shaw, I. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 118-148. Stock, H. 1949. Die Erste Zwischenzeit Ägyptens. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ward, W. 1971. Egypt and the East Mediterranean World 2200-1900BC. Studies in Egyptian Foreign Relations during the First Intermediate Period. Beirut: American University of Beirut.

von Beckerath, J. 1962. ‘The Date of the End of the Old Kingdom’. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 21: 140-147. von Beckerath, J. 1984. ‘Bemerkungen zum Turiner Königspapyrus und zu den Dynastien der ägyptischen Geschichte’. Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 11: 49-57. Bennett, T. 1995. The Birth of the Museum: History, Theory. Politics. London: Routledge. Goedicke, H. 1969. ‘Probleme der Herakleopolitenzeit’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 24: 136-143. Gomaa, F. 1980. Ägypten während Zwischenzeit. Wiesbaden: Reichert.

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The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah: An Art-historical and Epigraphic Re-appraisala Aaron Shackell-Smith The full extent of arguing for the introduction of a new term, for at least the opening portion of Hatshepsut’s epoch, is presented in the author’s doctoral research, presently being finalised. Given the confines of space here-allowed, the argument will be reduced to a simple statement of fact. It would seem, given the highly irregular nature of Hatshepsut’s succession to the throne, coupled with the variability evident in the archaeological record, that a new term ought to be introduced to refer to this specific time. Factors considered in the introduction of the new rubric are:

1. OBJECTIVES OF THIS RESEARCH The purpose of this paper is two-fold: to offer up the notion that the reliefs of Hatshepsut recorded in the temple of Semnah extend beyond the actual year date of Thutmose III in that temple, in at least their content. Additionally, to demonstrate how new methodologies developed by the author could be applied to support this notion. Before re-evaluating the temple’s iconographic and epigraphic record, both the methodology and a new expression used in this paper will be introduced.

 Hatshepsut’s measured approach to the throne.4  The unorthodox incorporation of the heir apparent into this period, as well as the reign that followed it.  The evolution of imagery and portraiture, which seems to have occurred particularly in the medium of statuary.  The undisputable fact that material testifying to the ‘rulership’ of Thutmose III is interlaced alongside Hatshepsut’s bid for the throne.  Examination of material seldom reviewed in the first decade of Hatshepsut’s time (e.g. the graffitostela of Tjemhy; Reineke 1977, 369-77), which further adds to this unique picture.  Material from the Sinai region which epigraphically illustrates the titular evolution that seems to have taken place, in at least one case with the Nomen of one ruler and the Prenomen of another fused in a single kingly protocol.

2. THE TERM ‘REGNANCY’ For a long time scholars have gone back and forward employing various terms to discuss the period following the death of Thutmose II, up to the point where Hatshepsut was crowned king of Egypt. Some have preferred to call this period a ‘co-regency’ (e.g. Dorman 2001, 1-2; Murnane 1977, 32-44),1 whilst others have inclined towards the idiom ‘regency’ (e.g. Laboury 2006; Habachi 1957; Bryan 2000, 236-238). On the former, while there was clearly an overlap in terms of time between the rulership of either Thutmose III-Hatshepsut (early), and/or Hatshepsut-Thutmose III (late, that being the second half of the second decade), in the strictest sense fitting with the definition of a co-regency,2 the sheer length of time, and the irregularities surrounding this period give one cause to pause. As regards the term ‘regency’, this too is not strictly speaking correct, as ‘regency’ implies that a person was appointed to administer the state/country owing to the present ruler being either “a minor… absent or incapacitated” (Thompson 1996, 852). While this may have been true at the outset of this period (immediately following the death of Thutmose II) and appears to have been partially the case if the evidence of statuary is anything to go by (e.g. Tefnin 1979; Laboury 1998, 2006), such does not appear to be true for the entire period.3

The term proposed, ‘Regnancy’, derives from the old French for ‘sovereign’ and the Latin present participle of rēgnāre. Having the meaning of ‘to reign’ or ‘to rule’, rēgnāre is most often used in combination with a queen who has temporarily assumed the mantle of power. Such may be the case owing to abdication of the throne, death of a ruler (as we have here with Thutmose II),5 succession issues or even in times of war when the ruler has either been exiled or campaigned in foreign lands for a long period. However, as Hatshepsut was also not technically

a

This article differs from that presented at the ‘First Australasian Conference of Young Egyptologists, 4-6th September, 2009’. 1 Murnane seems to prefer the period of sole rule of Hatshepsut as the actual co-regency period, rather than the period from the death of Thutmose II to the ‘accession’ of Hatshepsut. That said, he does discuss various artefactual materials from this earlier period as part of that coregency, and notes that the period was “not a typical coregency” (Murnane 1977, 43). He also employs the phrase ‘queen regnant’ to discuss the period pre-accession of Hatshepsut, and notes that “from the beginning, then, Hatshepsut ruled Egypt in all but name” (Murnane 1977, 33). 2 See Murnane (1977, 239-265), which still stands as the best synthesis of what a co-regency actually is. 3 Despite the arguments of Gabolde (2005, 33-34, 44, 59-60) that would see this so.

4

Based upon a full examination of the evidence, a year six date for her transition into the kingship is argued for in the doctoral thesis 5 One is want to draw connections here between Queen/King Elizabeth I, ruler of England from 1558-1603CE and Queen/King Hatshepsut. Similarities in terms of the premature death of the ruling male heir (leaving either no, or a very young male successor), connections to the dynastic bloodline, bastardized ‘royal’ unions, the uncanny resemblance between the offices of Senenmut and Walsingham, and the surprising successfulness of the respective reigns, despite numerous obstacles early in their respective reigns all lend support for the adoption of a different terminology. See in general, Hawkins (1980); Lasky (1999).

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AARON SHACKELL-SMITH to Egyptian art, traditional.9 This reiterates points made by Quirke (1996, 263) and Kantor (1957, 44, 49-50) that narrative must consist of a sequence of actions (see also Perkins 1957). However, this sequence can be depicted by either multiple scenes adjoining one another, or a single scene that illustrates time has passed while the actions and event took place (see section 3b). This differs from statements made by Quirke (1996, 263) that a single episode cannot depict narrative. One must remember, though, that the methodology employed to convey textual narrative differs from those used to convey pictorial narrative.

a queen at this time (at best a Queen Mother) and also not the biological parent of Thutmose III,6 the phrase ‘queen regnant’ is equally untrue. Thus, as argued in the thesis, a new word, encapsulating the essence of rēgnāre but reflecting the idiosyncrasies of her first half-decade, is employed to refer to the period where Hatshepsut ‘governed’ Egypt, whilst not actually being a queen, queen regent, co-regent, or king.

3. ‘NARRATIVE’ METHODOLOGIES: A BRIEF OVERVIEW The methodology tested here derives from research initially conducted ten years ago now, on the epigraphy and iconography of Ramesside temples. It is not feasible to recap all the aspects of narratology which frame the methodology as it stands today; nor illustrate other case studies carried out by the author that might lend further support to its use in this case.7 What can be done, which should suffice for the purpose of this paper, is to include the relevant discourse on the ‘elements’ one needs to consider when applying this methodology. These ‘elements’ come about as a result of viewing monumental reliefs from the perspective of narratology, and thus necessarily considering how it conforms to the understanding of the genre of narrative; both in terms of historicity and fictionality. There are four elements:

Gaballa (1976, 5) adds to our understanding by stating that often the ‘Relative Temporal’ element was conveyed to the viewer via the use of an ‘extrinsic inscription’. This was added “to signify the time of a depicted event” (see discussion within Gaballa 1976). It has already been noted how an accompanying inscription can offer a precise date. What is now understood is how Egyptian artists used accompanying inscriptions to convey Relative Time to their audience. Furthermore, this ‘extrinsic inscription’ could be used to add realism to the event. Therefore, while static depictions can be factual, they do not tell a story. Such examples are edicts, decrees, administrative accounts, festivals and the like. Conversely, reliefs that are determined to be narrative may not necessarily be factual (as stated, they can be mythological, legendary, purely fictional, or even ritualistic). However, if Relative Time is present in the reliefs being examined, and other elements of narrative are also present, and finally, these elements are ‘specific’ in the information they convey, one can subsequently conclude that not only is narrative present, but the reliefs are authentic.

3a. The Element of ‘Time’ Beginning with the element of time, one realises that it consists of two components. First, there is the question of actual time (i.e. is an exact date provided?). In general, reliefs having a date inscribed in the textual component of the scene(s) (the surrounding or accompanying inscription)8 have been treated as factual. In other words, the inclusion of a date authenticates the reliefs. However, this does not mean the reliefs are narrative. Rather, it is the second component of time that is used to classify the scene as narrative or non-narrative. The second component of the time element then, is the ability of the reliefs to traverse time, which can be termed ‘Relative Time’. That is to say, the reliefs must begin at one point and end at another (Hanfmann 1957, 71). A static temporal depiction cannot be defined as narrative. Rather, it is classified as ideological, conceptual or, as it pertains

3b. The Element of ‘Event’ The second element is the actual event being depicted. Much like the time element, it too must be present in the reliefs for them to be classified as narrative (Kantor 1957, 44-45). As aforementioned, the event must not be repetitive or standard in nature. It must be realistic, not ideological and, at the very least, allude to actions that actually occurred in past time.10 In addition to the temporal function of the surrounding caption (noted above), the extrinsic inscription was also used to individualise the event. In particular, military scenes in the New Kingdom change radically from their predecessors. Rather than mere topographical lists and traditional smiting scenes, the like of which were still carved during the New Kingdom (even under the reign of Thutmose III), the king is now actually depicted ‘winning the battle’ for Egypt:

6

On Isis / Aset being the mother of Thutmose III, see Dodson & Hilton (2004, 131-133); Dorman (1988, 79); Harris & Wente (1980, 131-2); and Redford (1967, 73). 7 The entirety of this methodology is presented in Smith (2011). For similarly devised methodologies that exist in other worldly disciplines see for example Watanabe (2004). For general comments on narratology and the genre of narrative see Gaballa (1976); Parkinson (1996); Quirke (1996); Moers (1999). For research forming the base of the methodology, albeit from the classical world, see Kantor (1957); Hanfmann (1957) in particular. 8 The best illustration of this accompanying text in the New Kingdom is the ‘Bulletin’, which surrounds the reliefs that depict the Battle of Kadesh. Most authors state that the ‘Poem’ is the actual textual account of the battle, with the ‘Bulletin’ (or record) supplementing the pictorial reliefs (see Lichtheim 1976, 57-60). However, Gardiner (1960, 2-4) attempted to reclassify the military account using a bipartite nomenclature, grouping the Bulletin and Poem together as the ‘Written Record’, whilst classifying the reliefs as the ‘Pictorial Record’.

9 For a discussion on traditional Egyptian Art see Aldred (1980, 11-18). On Ground Lines and their use see Kemp (1989, 83-89). On the question of canons in Ancient Egypt, note the excellent work by Shupak (2001, 535-547; esp. 535 & fns. 2-3); also Smith (2002). 10 See especially Perkins (1957, 56). Also Hanfmann (1957, 72) for comments on the ‘generalized’ character of narrative; particularly ‘Geometric’ narrative.

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The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah “…it is true that the result of any one of his depicted wars was a foregone conclusion, i.e. victory, nevertheless it was important to show him [the king] actually working for this victory” (Gaballa 1976, 100).11

Such inclusions appear as early as the Proto-Dynastic period with ‘sandal-bearers’ standing behind the king.14 Often the male children of Ramesses II were depicted in the field with him. At Beit el-Wali and Abu Simbel, many of his sons are seen charging in chariots behind their father. At Luxor his sons are depicted at his feet in the tribute scenes (Fisher 2001). Finally, even the mounts of Ramesses can be depicted.15

This new ‘realistic’ event could be depicted in one of two ways. The event could be portrayed via a single scene that encapsulated the pinnacle or climax of the event. Alternatively, the reliefs could consist of a series of scenes that illustrate the most important episodes of the event. Perkins classifies the former as the ‘Culminative Method’, whilst the latter is defined as the ‘Episodic Method’. She also states that the ‘Episodic Method’ has a more concrete realism as the reliefs better develop the event (Perkins 1957, 55-6, 61-2). A possible example of the ‘Culminative Method’ could be the moment Ramesses II invades the Hittite Camp in the infamous Battle of Kadesh, although counter-arguments could be made for this being but one of several ‘episodes’.12 The minor war scenes of Ramesses II at Karnak and Luxor are most likely to be classified as Episodic (Kitchen 1964; Muller 1995, pls. 38-39).

With respect to authenticity, one final group of characters could be added to the scene or scenes. These have been classified as ‘spectators’. They are particularly evident in Greek and Roman art, while being a seldom occurrence in Egyptian art.16 Such devices are not unheard of in Egyptian reliefs, though. In the temple of Karnak, the reliefs carved by Seti I showing himself and his son Ramesses II adoring the cartouches of previous kings is one such example. While being propagandistic rather than narrative, its inclusion does illustrate the ability of the Egyptian artist to utilise such devices.17 Another possibility consists of the participants involved in the ‘adoration at the window’ reliefs under the reign of Akhenaton (Aldred 1988, 90-92 and fig. 12). Even the mourners and followers, who trail behind the coffin in funerary reliefs, could be classified under this rubric. As for their purpose or function, spectators were included in the artwork for two reasons. They added realism to the event, and they sought to involve the onlooker, evoking ‘viewer participation’ (Hanfmann 1957, 74).

3c. The Element of ‘Character’ The third element is that of the characters conducting the event. Each story usually has a protagonist or hero. In the case of Egyptian military depictions this will almost always be the king, although in some exceptional cases the son of the king as ‘Heir Apparent’ is depicted.13 The primary difficulty with this element of narrative is that the poses and/or guises of the pharaoh are often conceptual and traditional. Such scenes include the pharaoh smiting an enemy, charging a foe either on foot or in a chariot, wielding various weapons of war, binding enemies, presenting tribute to the respective gods (usually Amun) and the like. However, as aforementioned, the artwork gradually moved from depicting traditional military scenes to displaying the prowess of the monarch on the battlefield; a point that should be kept at the forefront of any empirical analysis involving the late Eighteenth and Nineteenth Dynasties.

Therefore, many characters could be portrayed in Egyptian reliefs. Furthermore, the number, poses and specificity of the characters often determines how the reliefs are classified. However, with respect to narrative, the element of character is optional. The only mandatory elements are those of the event and time (albeit in its secondary component of ‘Relative Time’). Thus, the element of character is best utilised for determining whether or not the reliefs are factual. Indeed, its omission from reliefs would lend most scholars to argue the reliefs 14

Gaballa (1976, 16-18); Aldred (1980, 33-36). Under Hatshepsut one notes the incorporation of the ‘fan-bearer’. The individual most commonly illustrated in this fashion is Mai-herperi (Bryan 2006, 96), but one should also note Senenmut on the year 11 Sinai stela (Gardiner et al. 1952-5, pl. LVIII (no. 179)) and Nakht of Tjiny in the same region (Gardiner, Peet, Černý 1952-5, pl. LVIII (no. 184) and vol. II, 155). 15 The primary steed of Ramesses was ‘Victory in Thebes’. This horse is often mentioned, not only at the battle of Kadesh, but also on smaller reliefs such as those on the southern exterior wall of the Hypostyle Hall at Karnak. See Gaballa (1969, 83). 16 The most notable instance in the classical world is the riot at Pompeii between the peoples of Pompeii and Nuceria. It is depicted on a wall painting at Pompeii and recorded by Tacitus (Annals 14.17; for a pictorial representation see Gabucci 2001, 81 & 91). The scene shows several spectators watching on as the Pompeiians and Nucerians turn from hurling abusive language to throwing stones and fighting with weapons. On the ‘decorum’ of spectators in the Roman world and their stadium arrangements, see Roueché (1993, 83-85). 17 It also demonstrates a cognitive awareness of one’s own history, and thus such devices were perhaps not entirely propagandistic. Nonetheless, at least a part of their function was to ensure the place of Seti I and Ramesses II in the line of pharaohs, whilst also potentially paying homage to their ancestors. Thus, while cultic aspects were also likely part of the reasoning behind the execution of these types of reliefs, so too political propaganda must have featured.

In addition to the protagonist, other characters could be included in the scenes. Chieftains, princes, fort/garrison commanders and other worthy adversaries are sometimes depicted in Egyptian military art. The Prince of Aleppo being turned upside-down in the Kadesh scenes on the first Pylon of the Ramesseum is one such example (Kitchen 1982, 61). Other examples are the depictions of the enlarged fort commanders on reliefs at Beit el-Wali, carved on the north and south walls of the Entrance Hall (Wreszinski 1988, pls. 163-8; Muller 1995, pls. 23-26). Thus, the antagonist or villain may be depicted. Officials or members of the royal entourage could also be depicted. 11

Note also the comments by Redford (1995, 160-4). For the reliefs: Wreszinski (1988, pls. 81-89). 13 For example, Ramesses at Beit el-Wali, where the inclusion of the viceroy Amenemope suggests these scenes be dated to the latter stages of the reign of Seti I (Spalinger 1980, 88-90; Murnane 1976, 161-162; Kitchen 1977, 220-221). On the speos itself see Ricke et al. (1967). 12

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AARON SHACKELL-SMITH as ahistorical, while not in the slightest compromising the reliefs as being narrative.

5. SCENES OF THUTMOSE III The decree of Thutmose III is located on the eastern exterior wall and the text primarily records the instructions given to Nehy, the vizier and King’s Son of Kush, regarding the reinstatement of offerings for Dedwen.21 However, another relief is depicted on the exterior western wall, consisting of at least three scenes. This relief is noteworthy for several reasons. Firstly, in the centre of the relief (Caminos 1998, scene 22, pl. 39), the king kneels in front of Dedwen, who places the HDt (White Crown of Upper Egypt) on his head.22 Thutmose III receives life (anx), stability (Dd) and dominion (wAs), all of which radiate from an HH-figure, suggesting that these ‘tools’ of kingship (Smith 2005, 330-1; Blackman 1918, 475-82) will exist, and/or have existed, for millions of years. The primary inscription runs in either direction from the pseudo-Nut form of Nekhbet (Caminos 1998, pl. 39, cols. 17-20 and pl. 40, cols. 11-13),23 and is terminated at either end by two female figures, wearing the vulture headdress and holding a staff in the form of the rnpt-sign (Caminos 1998, pls. 39-40, cols. 9-13 and 14-21 respectively).24 The scene is completed by the presence of a Iwn-mwt.f priest and a Htp-di-nsw formula in the name of Geb.25

3d. The Element of ‘Place/Location’ Finally, we come to the last element, the actual place or location of the event. As alluded to above, this element is also optional. However, much like its counterpart element, ‘character’, it is the specificity of places and locations that lends itself to the reliefs being classified as both narrative and fact. In scenes where specific forts, towns and localities are cited (albeit via the accompanying epigraph), one receives an ‘air of realism’ about the scene. This occurs because the artist has taken the time to add precise details to his illustrations. Were the reliefs ahistorical, standard depictions of forts, towns, and locales would have sufficed to convey the setting of the scene to the viewer. Finally, with respect to this element, Hanfmann (1957, 71) states: “…[it is] what he (the author) does about the place of action [that determines] the solutions for the task of telling a story…”

4. INTRODUCTION TO THE TEMPLE OF SEMNAH The earliest datable document from the Regnancy period of Hatshepsut is carved in the Nubian Temple of Semnah, a short way south of the second cataract (Caminos 1998, plates 38-43).18 It is dated to year 2 and records the ordering of a renewal of the dedicatory offerings for Dedwen (a local Nubian God; Hart 2005, 52), the deified Sesostris III and his queen Meretseger.19 Indeed, it is this very temple inscription that is used by most Egyptologists to propose the terminus post quem for the accession of Hatshepsut (e.g. Dorman 1988, 19-22; Meyer 1982, 22). This derives from the belief that the content illustrates Hatshepsut to be either a queen regnant and/or queen mother, but not king. Based on this assumption, as well as Block 287 from the Chapelle Rouge (cf. Lacau and Chevrier 1977-79, 92-6, 134-5, pl. 6), and amphorae from the tomb of Senenmut’s parents (Hayes 1957, 79-81), scholars for over 40 years have presumed that Hatshepsut ascended to the mantle of kingship, sometime between the second and seventh year of her ‘regency’.20

position of some importance (namely the year 4(?) north Karnak Donation Stela (Dorman 2006, 44-5; Meyer 1982, 21-8, 150-6, 310-1; Christophe 1951, 86-9 & pls. VI, XV), the year 5 appointment of Useramun (Dziobek 1994, 73-7 & pls. 17-9, 42-3, 81-2; Helck 1955, 107-16), and the year 6 graffito-stela of Tjemhy (Reineke 1977, 369-77; Morkot 1987, 32-3)). One must then benchmark this against the date recorded on the stela of Tjemhy and the earliest dated instance of Hatshepsut's Prenomen recorded on one of the amphorae from the tomb of Ramose and Hatnofer (Hayes 1957, 79-81). As argued in the thesis, the ‘lag time’ for utilitarian goods to receive appropriate propagandistic epigraphy and then be disseminated into the archaeological record necessarily means that the date written on the amphora must be recorded sometime after the actual ‘transition’ into the Kingship was carried out (cf. O’Connor 2001, 263-71; Kemp 1989, 184, 232-60; Aston et al. 2006; Bourriau et al. 2006). Finally, the supposition that Hatshepsut’s bid for the throne was a progressive one, punctuated with experimental stages, is corroborated with scenes from Deir el-Bahri along the northern Middle Colonnade (Naville 1898, pls. LVI-LXIV). The author is indebted to the reviewers of this paper for the Kendall (2007) reference; however, that scholar’s arguments do not alter the perspective here-adopted. 21 The pertinent lines read “…nsw-bity Mn-xpr-ra sA Ra DHwty-ms di anx Dddt m Hm n stp-sA anx wDA snb n xtm-bity smr waty nsw sA imy-r xAswt rsyt [lost] imm xt.tw pA Htp-nsw” (Urk. IV: 193.17-194.3). Also Caminos (1998, pl. 25, cols. 2-3 and 43ff). On the question of whether the vizier/viceroy is Nehy or Seni see esp. Dorman (2006, 61, fn. 26 and references cited within). 22 As noted by Dorman (2006, 42), such was a mere 13-months after the coronation of Thutmose III. 23 The top of plate 40, col. 11 and the word Fag are entirely lost, however, the pertinent inscription clearly labels her as Nxbt HDt Nxn nbt Fag. While the final ‘g’ is also lost in plate 39, cols. 17/18, the reconstruction appears obvious; cf. Wb. I, 576 where the translation ‘Herrin der Stadt’ or ‘Mistress of the Town’ is offered. 24 Note that only the one on the left-hand side, named as Wadjet, is still visible. That on the right-hand side is almost completely illegible, save the actual year-sign and the fingers curled around it. Each tutelary goddess offers her own protections, recorded by Caminos (1998, pl. 38 cols. 5-8, Wadjet and pl. 40 cols. 1-4, Nekhbet). For the texts see (Urk. IV: 199.13 – 201.4). 25 The youthful age of Thutmose III is clearly suggested by the priest who officiated the ceremony. While Iwn-mwt.f priests often officiate such ‘re-birth’ ceremonies, the stark portrayal of the ‘sidelock of youth’ and the omission of any other clergy save that who represents a young

18 See also (Urk. IV: 193-197). The date is given as rnpt 2, Abd 2 Smw, sw 7 8, a mere 13 months and 3 or 4 days following the accession of Thutmose III. Note that Sethe records the day as having 8 strokes, whereas de Wit and Mertens (1962, 143ff) only record 7. de Wit and Mertens are followed by Caminos (1998), where in pl. 25, col. 1, only 7 strokes are illustrated. See also PM (VII, 148); LD (III, 53). 19 The logical choice of Sesostris III as ‘pharaoh-exemplar’ at Semnah, see Kemp (1989, 174ff, fn. 33-34). 20 Dunham and Janssen (1960, esp. 11ff and pl. 26B); Säve-Söderbergh (1941, 202ff). In matter-of-point, I subscribe to the fact that Hatshepsut effected her ‘transition’ towards the end of year six; stepping from the Regnancy into the full office of Kingship. One cannot hope to fully comment on the arguments supporting this conclusion made in the doctoral thesis. However, the following can be offered so that the reader might better appreciate the perspective taken. First, Block 287 from the Chapelle Rouge seems to depict a ceremony that ushers in Hatshepsut’s Regnancy period; a ‘Process of Succession’ running from years 2-6 if you will (Lacau and Chevrier 1977-79, pl. 6 and 92-6, 133). This is offset somewhat by documents demonstrating Thutmose III in a

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The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah scene with Dedwen and Thutmose III.29 Second, Hatshepsut received the ‘tools’ of kingship from a female divinity, while Thutmose III received them from a male god/iconographic figure, echoing the gender/sex division.30 Irrespective of who commissioned the reliefs, that Hatshepsut is aligned with a female divinity to receive the same accoutrements as her male counterpart is intriguing (Troy 1986, 46-8).

6. SCENES OF HATSHEPSUT While Thutmose III occupies the entire of the exterior eastern wall, and most of the exterior western wall, on either side of the ‘conferment ceremony’ of Thutmose III, traces of Hatshepsut seem to remain. As Dorman (2006, 43-4) has already pointed out, on the far right or southern end, a previously carved figure has been all but completely erased (Caminos 1998, 79-84 and pl. 42; cf. Figure 2). This section of the wall has suffered numerous instances of defacing, resulting in a logistical ‘minefield’ in terms of chronological reconstruction. Nonetheless, the most logical explanation for the order (and reasons) in which the scenes were carved is as follows. In the first instance, the original scene contained Sesostris III, as attested by his Horus name xa-kAw-ra. However, his figure was completely abolished with the advent of a later sideaccess door.26 The goddess Satet was originally carved standing behind the figure of Sesostris III. While the exact reasons for Satet being juxtaposed next to Sesostris III are unclear, perhaps associations can be drawn with Thutmose III. As aforementioned, the latter is depicted in a ceremony, where the White Crown of Upper Egypt is being placed/adjusted on his head by Dedwen. One of the most common iconographic representations of Satet depicts her wearing the White Crown of Upper Egypt.27 Perhaps similar connections were sought for Sesostris III, albeit in a more subtle way. Later, either at, or closely following, the carving of the coronation/conferment scenes of Thutmose III, Hatshepsut changed the scene. She inverted the direction of Satet to face her own figure, now inserted in the far right-hand side, under what remains of her extrinsic inscription (cf. Gaballa 1976, 16). Hatshepsut then appears to have modified the arms of Satet so that, in pseudo-kingly fashion, she now received the same ‘tools’ of kingship (life, anx and dominion, wAs)28 as Thutmose III, only from Satet, not Dedwen. The correlations here are two-fold. First, Satet ‘connected’ Hatshepsut to the White Crown, again paralleling the

Finally, as correctly pointed out by Caminos, the image of Hatshepsut was utterly obliterated, and the above inscription vilified, although not to the same extent as the character of Hatshepsut (Caminos 1998, 81ff; and comments in Gabolde 2005, 15-16 & 153). The agents of Thutmose III then appear to have modified the image of Satet one final time, so her right arm now hung by her side, rather than offering ‘life’ to an empty space. Perhaps the only vexing question left is who originally occupied the space Hatshepsut later filled? It is unlikely it was empty. Not only did the canons of Egyptian art forbid such a void, but considering how ‘crammed’ the rest of the wall is, this is simply not tenable. One could argue for Khnum, the consort of Satet. But given the affinity Hatshepsut had for this god, not to mention that Satet would have been placed behind him, and not the other way round, this too is unlikely.31 Perhaps the two most probable candidates are the aforementioned Queen Meretseger or Anukis, another consort of Khnum. As both were feminine, modifying such reliefs would have been relatively easy (Figure 2).32

7. EXTRINSIC INSCRIPTIONS OF HATSHEPSUT Examining the textual components, Hatshepsut appears to be cited in two physically different locations. First, to the extreme left of the main scene (Caminos 1998, no. 22; cf. Figure 1), two columns are poorly preserved. However, some of the former, and much of the latter, are still visible. The reconstruction reads: Col. 26: [r(t)-pa(t)?] wrt Hst iAmt wrt [lost] Col. 27: Hmt nTr Hmt nsw wrt HAt-Spswt ir.n.s m 29 Note also the added parallelism with the pseudo-Nut figures of Nekhbet discussed in (5) above, further tying Hatshepsut to the White Crown; cf. Troy (1986, 116-119). 30 cf. Marcus (2001, 309-317) where the Ancient Egyptian pantheon, royal house and social order are expounded as ‘gender male’. This is in marked contrast to the Lovedu of South Africa, who are defined as ‘gender female’ (Marcus 2001, 306-309), and even the Mesoamerican polities, where females could ascend to ‘kingship’ as a preference over non-royal blood in the event of there being no available heirs (Marcus 2001, 317-334). Also Bryan (1996, 25-46). On the matter of ‘feminine colouration’ in early imagery of Hatshepsut, I again thank the referee for the Szafranski (2007) reference; however, this matter had already been noted in the author’s thesis (cf. Callender 2002, 31; Laboury 1998, 608; Tefnin 1979, 38-40; Eaton-Krauss 1976), and is not overly relevant for the current discourse. 31 For example the comments by O’Rourke (2002, 185-6) where he states “In the New Kingdom reigns of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III, [Khnum is portrayed for the first time] as a fashioner of gods, men and animals, enacting creation on a potter’s wheel…”. Also the temples to Khnum and Satet as discussed by Kaiser (1993) and von Pilgrim (2002). 32 Caminos (1998) comments on the remains of fingers and a hand on the right-hand shoulder (left-side facing) of Satet; however, he is at a loss to postulate who they belong to.

Horus, is indeed telling. On the role of Iwn-mwt.f priests see Haeny (1997, 107-8, 120). In general, see Sauneron (2000). 26 Note that Dorman (2006) does not offer an explanation for the reconstruction, and his earlier publication (Dorman 1988, 20-22) follows Caminos (1998, 79ff), which in itself has unresolved aspects. Notwithstanding, both authors concur that the figure/reference to Sesostris III was carved in situ, and has not been altered or tampered with. This corrects the rather spurious reconstruction of Sethe (1898, 58-59 and pls. VI-X). 27 The remnants of the top of a White Crown (presumably originally donning the head of Sesostris III) can still be seen covering the epithets under the cartouche of Sesostris III (Caminos 1998, 80-1). On the utilisation of Satet in this manner, see for example Valbelle (1981, 108ff). 28 Interestingly, Hatshepsut does not iconographically receive stability (Ddt) from Satet, although she does receive it via the extrinsic inscription (discussed below). On the ‘tools’ of Kingship, cf. Smith (2005). For other examples where Hatshepsut receives these ‘tools’, note the Karnak Obelisk inscriptions (Urk. IV: 351-71), Crowning Scenes on the Chapelle Rouge (Lacau and Chevrier 1977-79, 243-6, scene 5, block 145), a Karnak Door Lintel (Chevrier 1934, pl. 4), and perhaps even scenes carved on a northern ‘re-used’ Karnak chapel (Gabolde and Rondot 1996).

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AARON SHACKELL-SMITH and pictorial evidence surrounding the title Hmt nTr, clearly paint a picture of Regnancy/Queenship, or not.

mnw n it.s ddwn xnt(y) tA-sty ir.s anx.ti Dt (26) [the hereditary noble?] Great of Favour, Great of Charm,33 great [lost] (27) …the God’s Wife, the King’s Great Wife, Hatshepsut, she made (as) monuments for her father, Dedwen, foremost of Nubia, so that she might live forever.34 Second, on the far right of the exterior western wall, the inscription above her vilified form reads: Col. 1: Dd-mdw sAt.k mrt.k [HAt-Spswt] iwat.k Col. 2: mnx Hmt-nTr Hmt-nsw wrt [sAt] prt m [Ha].k Col. 3: rnn.n.k s(t) m ib [lost] sAt.k pw nt Xt.k Col. 4: ir.s n.k mnw [mtwwt?].s pw xr.k snb nb Ddt nb [lost] (1) Words spoken: “Your daughter, whom you loved [Hatshepsut]. Your beneficent heiress, (2) the God’s Wife, King’s Great Wife, [the daughter] coming forth from your flesh. (3) You reared her in/with [lost] heart. She is your daughter of your body and (4) she made/makes monuments for you. It is her [seed/progeny] with you, all health and all stability [lost]...”35 The first noteworthy aspect is the inclusion, on both the left and right hand sides of the scene of Thutmose III, of the titles Hmt nTr and Hmt nsw wrt. This is in perfect accord with the biography of Ahmose Pen-Nekhbet,36 and one of the key reasons that the Semnah inscriptions have been cited as the earliest possible date for the accession/coronation of Hatshepsut.37 Simply put, given the inclusion of ‘queenly’ titles, Hatshepsut could not have been pharaoh at this time. While this is ‘mostly’ not disputed here, the real focus lies in whether the textual

Figure 1 Semnah Temple, exterior face of West Wall,  Scene 22 (after Caminos 1998, pl. 38).  On the left-hand side of the exterior western wall, there is the dubiously restored r(t)-pa(t).38 While hinting at the possibility of Hatshepsut as an heir of the throne, with so much obliterated, and space at a premium, its inclusion is unlikely. Next, we come to the phrase wrt Hst iAmt “great of favours, great of charms”). Again, this seems to reinforce the titles and duties of a God’s Wife and queen (Troy 1986, 83-89). Indeed, the only statement on the left-hand side that would give pause to the sentiment that Hatshepsut was anything other than a queen or God’s Wife is the line “she made monuments for her father” (Caminos 1998, scene 22, col. 27). However, even this may be rationalised via the fact that Hatshepsut as God’s Wife would have administrated numerous affairs of state for the young Thutmose III, including monumental building programmes.39

33 The question of how to interpret this phraseology has been the subject of much debate. Troy (1986, 83-89) convincingly argues for the ‘sycamore-fig’ as an extension of the Hts-sceptre. While the interposing of the imAt symbol for the Hts-sceptre seems perfectly acceptable, surely the symbolism is meant to reflect the qualities of the queen, rather than merely an implement of royal iconography? To translate the passage as “great of favour, great of the imAt Hts-sceptre”, would be like viewing the crucifix and calling it “two pieces of wood perpendicularly attached to one another”, ignoring its symbolic value as an ‘absolution of sins’ for example. Hence, unless the context specifically denotes a translation of “imAt Hts-sceptre“, preference will be given to the adjectival quality “charm”. 34 Caminos (1998, 78 & pl. 38; our Figure 1). By in large, the proposed reconstruction has been accepted, with minor alterations to the translation (cf. Urk. IV: 198.12-16). xnt(y) tA-sty could equally be translated “at the front (north) of Nubia”, referring to the geographical placement of the temple. Also, ir.s anx.ti Dt might have a slightly different connotation along the lines of “causing that she lived forever”, a semantic difference between prospective and participial, or even gerund-like, sentiments. 35 (Urk. IV: 201, 5 – 202, 2); Caminos (1998, pl. 42 and 82ff; our Figure 2). 36 Specifically (Urk. IV: 34.15). Although note that the Prenomen of Hatshepsut there immediately follows her ‘queenly’ titles. 37 Schott (1955). This point is critically reviewed in the doctoral thesis (Shackell-Smith, forthcoming) and it must be reiterated that the Biography of Ahmose Pen-Nekhbet is most likely carved retrospectively, limiting the usefulness of this comparison.

Nonetheless, when one turns to examine the hieroglyphics on the right-hand side (Caminos, 1998, scene 23, col. 4), Hatshepsut is again ‘making monuments’ for Dedwen.40 Whether she actually had 38

The restoration derives courtesy of Caminos (1998, 78), himself citing Gauthier (LDR2, 240 xii). While there clearly does not appear to be space for the inclusion of the full title ‘hereditary noble’ (with final ‘t’s) above or before the phrase wrt Hst iAmt, a correlate is evident in the el-Mahatta graffito of Senenmut; cf. (Urk. IV: 396.3); Habachi (1957, fig. 3 top left-hand column). 39 Hatshepsut’s administration of the country can be traced as far back as the biography of Ineni (Urk. IV: 59.12-60.14). On the duties/roles of the God’s Wife, see Bryan (2002, 2). 40 Both instances of temple building offer the monuments to Dedwen; however, this does not preclude the possibility that references to her

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The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah constructed the edifices, or was about to, is a moot point.41 The fact that she recorded this feat in two separate places, within the same temple, might just lead one to suspect that Hatshepsut believed she had the power and rights to make such a claim her own. In doing so, was she already beginning to have ideas about the office of kingship? Moreover, does this begin to shift the view of these Semnah reliefs away from the realm of Queenship, and more into the sphere of Regnancy? Continuing this train-of-thought, allusion is also made on the right-hand side of the exterior western wall to the ‘Divine Birth’ of Hatshepsut. In no fewer than five places are sentiments such as prt m [Ha].k (Urk. IV: 201.15), sAt.k pw nt Xt.k (Urk. IV: 201.17), and rnn.n.k s(t) m ib (Urk. IV: 201.16) expressed. It is not yet laced with the standard inclusions and omissions that would eventually typify her policy of legitimisation (Graindorge 1993; Brunner 1964; Daumas 1958), although Hatshepsut is referred to as an heiress (iwat.k mnx) (Urk. IV: 201.14),42 and probably a seed/progeny.43 At the very least, it illustrates her links with the gods, foremost amongst them at this time, Amun. Figure 2 Temple of Semnah, exterior face of West Wall,  Scene 23 (after Caminos 1998, pl. 42). 

What is more, in almost polar opposition to the inscriptions on the left-hand side of the exterior western wall, the ‘queenly’ titles of ‘Great King’s Wife’ and ‘God’s Wife’ are now surrounded by statements that would all but define Hatshepsut’s office of kingship. While on the left-hand side, one is hard pressed to define Hatshepsut as anything more than a queen, on the righthand side, the inscriptions almost speak of her as a king. Admittedly, neither inscription (left or right) refers to Hatshepsut’s administration of the country (save the building references), as they do in Ineni’s tomb. But then the art-historical genre is different. For here we have an instance of royal edict, not private decree. Rather than an account of how the bureaucracy saw Hatshepsut, we have an account of how she saw herself (or perhaps more correctly, how she wanted to be seen). Yet, the reliefs on the southern (right-hand) side of the exterior western wall do share one thing in common with the Biography of Ahmose Pen-Nekhbet at least. For very different reasons, they appear to place the title Hmt-nTr, in direct association to ‘kingly’ epithets (or at the very least, non-queenly ones).

Lastly then, there does appear to be one final piece of textual evidence that ‘hints’ at Hatshepsut’s kingly intentions. In the fourth column of the southern inscription, Hatshepsut appears to receive the ‘stability’ (Dd) that she did not receive via the pictorial record (Caminos 1998, pl. 42, col. 4; Urk. IV: 202.2). While a further tantalising notion appears to be the appending of a feminine ‘t’, this is most likely either a nominalising of the verb (i.e. ‘stability’), or the stative ending ‘.ti’. Additional counter-arguments would also state that the following nb should itself be qualified with an agreeing feminine ‘t’. Nonetheless, if feminised, the inference would be that stability was provided to Egypt at this time, not by a ‘governing’ male, but rather by a ‘governing’ female.44

8. ‘EPISODIC’ CONSIDERATIONS

AND

‘CULMINATIVE’

This penultimate sub-section then, draws in the arthistorical analyses outlined above. The Element of Event in the middle of the exterior western wall is made explicit by the conferment and placement of the crown on the head of Thutmose III by Dedwen. The character of the Iwn-mwt.f priest adds factuality to this scene, as does the absolute date of year 2; noting that this actually occurs on the eastern exterior wall, not the west (Caminos 1998, pls. 24-5).45 The Element of Location is implied by the temple within which the scenes are carved; ratified by the choice of local divinities incorporated into the scene. There is enough evidence to suggest Semnah stood as a

‘coming forth’ and the like (discussed below) pertained to Amun, and not Dedwen. 41 Although note that documents such as the Biography of Ineni seem to employ an Hr + infinitive (Pseudo-Verbal Construction) structure, suggesting activities more in progress than completed (noted also by Dorman 2006, 42). The same cannot be said for this inscription, hence any such works are likely placed in the absolute past. 42 Note that while Dorman (2006, 43) translates iwat as ‘heir’, the chiselled out ‘t’ is still clearly evident, thus feminising the noun. 43 The dubiously restored [mtwwt?].s pw xr.k (Urk. IV: 202.2). Clearly, there is neither room nor provision for prt nTry or its equivalent, as in the case of Ineni (Urk. IV: 60.5). Nonetheless, there is space for the phallus (Gardiner 2001, 456, sign D52 and/or D53), making the reconstruction of this clause plausible.

44

This would also compliment iwat above. The reliefs examined must be dated by association; however, the apparent similarities in dress, titulary and occasion of Thutmose III on both walls seems sufficient grounds to align the year two date on the eastern side with the western.

45

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AARON SHACKELL-SMITH southern parallel to crowning scenes in the north. However, we can perhaps assign another ‘event’, based on observations of the flow of scenes along the exterior west wall. In particular, a secondary event seems to be predicated around Hatshepsut and her transition through the stages or offices of Queenship and Regnancy. This brings into play the Element of Relative Time, a focal point of the narrative methodology.

right of the western wall could well have been altered at a time after the recorded date of the temple. In other words, while the fixed date for Thutmose’s crowning is beyond dispute, an absolute date for one portion of the temple does not necessarily translate to the application of that date for the entirety of the temple, or even the same wall.49 Two final comments are included in this section. First, with respect to ‘canons and proportions’, according to Dorman (2006, 42-4) the positioning of Hatshepsut relative to Thutmose III has been ascribed as one of a ‘deferent’ queen, not a usurping monarch (already countered by comments above). As he states, Hatshepsut was placed close enough to the image of Thutmose III to be included in the procession (and have her receipt of kingly protocols-by-association noted), but far enough away to keep with ‘queenly’ etiquette (Dorman 1988, 202). However, this supposedly subordinate status of ‘Queen’ Hatshepsut, is noted on the grounds of the symmetry of the scenes (placing Dedwen and Thutmose III as the central figures) and on the quantitative appearances of Thutmose III. While this is not directly disputed,50 a point of clarification is here-needed. Deference is offered via ‘spatial proximity’, as opposed to a lower status, which is afforded by ‘numerical inferiority’.

Outlined above, Hatshepsut is before Satet in receipt of her own ‘accoutrements of Kingship’. Pseudo-kingly titles mix with reference to divine birth and even the HDt makes a subtle appearance. As a consequence, while one might prefer to see the southern end scene (Caminos 1998, no. 23) as Culminative, it actually seems to belong to the continuity of the preceding scenes. Furthermore, the placement of Hatshepsut on either ‘end’ of the conferment scene of Thutmose III, may not simply have been curtailing to the ‘subordinate’ whims of the sexgender division. As aforementioned, on the far left or north of the exterior western wall (Caminos 1998, scene 22), Hatshepsut’s titles and notations appear to depict her as a queen. However, in terms of spatial flow, this epigraphy visually precedes the (Nubian) coronation of Thutmose III. In short, the aesthetics of this scene ‘relatively’ date it prior to the crowning of Thutmose III in the south. As one moves along the wall, progressing from left to right (north to south), the time of Thutmose III’s crowning comes about.46 At the conclusion of the Episodic reliefs, we now have Hatshepsut pictorially receiving the ‘tools’ of kingship from Satet, and textually alluded to in ‘couched’ terms as a king. She receives the White Crown, is bestowed with ‘life’, ‘dominion’ and ‘stability’ (exactly the same as Thutmose III), has reference made to her divine birth and association with the gods, is called a ‘beneficent heiress’, and may even be referred to as ‘progeny’ or ‘egg’. Thus, from left, to middle, to right do we move chronologically from Hatshepsut as queen (regnant), to Thutmose III as king, and finally to Hatshepsut in kingly ‘mode’.

Second, if one still remains doubtful about the suppositions made, one can also take into account the vilification of certain ‘kingly apparatus’ in support of the argument(s) presented. Of the two occurrences of Hatshepsut’s Nomen, only that on the right-hand (southern; Figure 2) side was actually erased. That on the left-hand (northern; Figure 1) side, whilst being difficult to make out, has not been debased like the block of inscription above Hatshepsut’s vilified form. It would seem as though the northern side was allowed to remain intact as it conformed to the expected ‘norms’ of Egyptian Kingship and Queenship, whilst the southern (right) demanded erasure, presumably owing to its departure from these.

Put another way, the extreme left would date to her Queenship or the transitory year one of Thutmose III at latest,47 the crowning of Thutmose III presumably to year two (the actual date of the temple inscription), and the extreme right to sometime later; albeit still within the Regnancy. A date of year two for the Nubian crowning of Thutmose III seems perfectly reasonable. This would have permitted the young monarch enough time to attend to affairs of state in Egypt proper (admittedly via Hatshepsut or his supporters given his age), and then ideologically or actually celebrate his dominion over Lower Nubia.48 Moreover, the series of re-carvings detailed in Section 6 above illustrate that the extreme

9. SUMMARY FOR OF SEMNAH

HATSHEPSUT AT THE TEMPLE

In conclusion, both the textual and iconographic representations on the right-hand side suggest Hatshepsut had begun to stake her claim on the Kingship. Based on 49 See for example the temple of Ramesses II at Abu Simbel where construction and carving there is presumed to have commenced either late in the time of Seti I, or in year 1 of Ramesses, and finished by the year 34 Marriage Stela at latest; a total time of three-and-a-half decades. For references, see Redford (1971, 110-112); Abd el-Razik (1967, 69); Christophe (1965); Spalinger (1980a, 83-4). 50 Despite the comments of Ratié (1979, 74-5) that there are likely two ‘events’ recorded here; the first by Thutmose III of his crowning by Dedwen, the second of Hatshepsut's role pre-, during and postThutmose III’s coronation. Thus, in contrast to Dorman, it appears the relationship of scenes here are temporally delayed rather than being completely concurrent (most notable on the right or southern side). Such reflects the viewpoint of each of the two protagonists at different times in their relationship.

46

And presumably the death of Thutmose II, although this is not noted. This year as transitory hinges on when it was Hatshepsut took up her Regnancy and commenced her ‘Process of Succession’; another point deliberated at length in the doctoral thesis. 48 On the youth of Thutmose III, see Harris and Wente (1980, 246-7). On the affinity Thutmose had with the south especially at the latter end of Hatshepsut’s sole rule note his efforts at Buhen, Shelfak-Dudora and Tombos. 47

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The Inscriptions of Hatshepsut at the Temple of Semnah rigorous examination in my doctoral thesis, this period of Regnancy ran from years two to six (see footnote 20 above), and the art-historical record in the temple of Semnah should not be viewed as one of the final acts in Hatshepsut’s Queenship, but rather as encapsulating the entire period from late Thutmose II to perhaps the middle of her Regnancy (the combination of Kingship-based references alongside Hmt-nsw wrt and lack of Prenomen constrain the art historical record to a later date).51 The female-male distinction was echoed via the choice of deity that connected the individual to the office of Kingship. Whether the power was forthcoming by the virtue of God’s Wife is less clear-cut than in the biography of Ineni. Nonetheless, her connection to the HDt, as well as the ‘tools’ of anx, wAs and Dd(t) (in addition to the likely supervision of Thutmose III’s affairs and duties) add yet another dimension to an already complicated scenario. Finally, via clauses such as prt m Ha.k, sAt.k pw nt Xt.k, and mtwwt.s pw, one seems to be presented with some of the earliest evidence of Hatshepsut’s intended policies of legitimisation.

edited by Nicholson, P. T; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 121-147. Brunner, H. 1964. Die Geburt des Gottkönigs: Studien zur Überlieferung eines Altägyptischen Mythos. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 10. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz. Bryan, B. M. 1996. ‘In Women Good and Bad Fortune are on Earth: Status and Roles of Women in Egyptian Culture’. In Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven: Women in Ancient Egypt, edited by Capel, A. K; Markoe, G. E. New York: Hudson Hills Press, 25-46. Bryan, B. 2000. ‘The 18th Dynasty before the Amarna Period (c.1550-1352BC)’. In The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Shaw, I. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 218-271. Bryan, B. 2002. ‘Property and the God’s Wife of Amun’. Paper presented at the “Women and Property” Conference 2002. Lyons, D; Westbrook, R. (organisers). Harvard University: Center for Hellenic Studies, 1-15.

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Bryan, B. 2006. ‘The Administration in the Reign of Thutmose III’. In Thutmose III: A New Biography, edited by Cline, E; O’Connor, D. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 69-121.

Gauthier, LDR2=Gauthier 1912 LD=Lepsius 1849-1859 PM=Porter; Moss 1927-1952 Urk. IV=Sethe; Helck 1908-9; 1927-1930; 1955-1958 Wb=Erman; Grapow1926-1963

Callender, G. 2002. ‘The Innovations of Hatshepsut’s Reign’. Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 13: 29-46.

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Gaballa, G. A. 1969. ‘Minor War Scenes of Ramesses II at Karnak’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 55: 82-88.

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Gabucci, A. et al. (editors). 2001. The Colosseum. Trans. M. Becker. Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum.

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Characterisation and Legitimisation in the Doomed Prince David Stewart Political ideologies and literary compositions have long been intertwined in Egyptian tradition. The Late Egyptian Story of the Doomed Prince provides an opportunity to further this line of thought.1 The story is steeped in folklore motifs and elements making the search for embedded political ideas problematic. However, the core of the story is surrounded by the theme of kingship and the king-to-be. Focusing on the characterisation of the Prince, the main actor of the story, political ideologies emerge. Echoes of kingship practises particularly pertaining to legitimisation can be seen as the character of the Prince develops. Association with the divine, use of typically royal equipment, success in hunting, physical prowess and the exertion of control over fate provide the Prince with the essential attributes of a New Kingdom ruler. This serves the dual purpose of driving the narrative forward with each successive event, while simultaneously placing legitimising aspects upon the Prince setting him up as a typically qualified ruler. This mingling of characterisation and narrative sees a reciprocal relationship between the character of the Prince and the Kings of Egypt. Their common use of legitimising techniques serves as a potent political statement aiming to re-assert the power of the King. For the same reasons that the King of Egypt is fit to rule, so too is the Prince and in return the powerful message that the kingship itself is legitimate can be delivered. By utilising the legitimising force behind many royal texts and reliefs, the Doomed Prince acts with the same political purpose, but does so in a more fluid and wide reaching medium. Thus the story can be better understood in light of its political statement aimed at the maintenance of the power of the kingship. In the opening phases of the story the birth of the Prince connects the divine sphere to the royal and establishes the unique status of the Prince. His royalty is written into the text itself with the determinative for hrd having the uraeus attached to it (Doomed Prince, 4,5).2 While it is known from the plot that he is the son of the king, the uraeus serves as a potent reminder of this status every time he is mentioned in the story. The divine sphere enters the narrative at the conception of the Prince, which took the intervention of the ‘gods’ to bring about.3 We are told that:

“[when his majesty l.p.h.], requested a son for himself from the gods of his time, they ordered a birth to be granted him” (Doomed Prince, 4,1-4,2). This divine origin makes him unique in the story and extraordinary in nature. He is thus marked for future events as being someone of remarkable status and origins. The character of the Prince connects the divine to the royal as he is the embodiment of both. This mingling of divine and royal attributes echoes many royal texts and reliefs which sought to prove the right of the king to rule. The tradition is prefigured in Papyrus Westcar where the divine births of the first three kings of the Fifth Dynasty are recounted (Lichtheim 1975, 220-222). Similarly the description of Senwosret I on the Berlin Leather Roll echoes these same ideas describing him as the son of Harakhty (Lichteim 1975, 116). It is in the New Kingdom, however, that the royal divine birth saw the most complete and extensive treatment. The notion that the king was the bodily child of a god “was a wellestablished tradition” (Robins 1983, 67) by this time. All of the rulers of the Eighteenth Dynasty identify themselves as the offspring of gods.4 Thutmosis III in his Poetical Stela is described as the son of Amun (Lichtheim 1976, 35), Amunhotep II identifies himself as the son of at least five gods and is termed the “divine ruler of On,” (Lichtheim 1976, 39) and Thutmose IV in his version of the Sphinx Stela is called the “son of Atum” at the same time as Horemakhet chose him as ruler (Bryan 1998, 28). The commonality between these texts is the attestation of legitimacy. From the link to a deity is drawn the idea that the king was the rightful ruler. In addition to texts, visual representation of the divine birth became part of royal repertoire. This is seen most notably in the temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el-Bahari,5 and is also seen in the temple of Luxor with the reliefs of Amunhotep III.6 In these scenes the king is engendered, birthed and suckled by the gods. In the accompanying narrative Amun proclaims the new king as his son. For Hatshepsut: “Words spoken by Amun Lord of the Throne of the Two Lands in front of her. Indeed Hatshepsut is the name of the child which I have placed in your womb. Let this utterance of words come out from your mouth: ‘He will exercise this effective kingship in this land in its entirety.’ My Ba

                                                            

1 The tale, partially preserved on the verso of Papyrus Harris 500, tells the story of an Egyptian Prince whose death by one of three fates is foretold upon his birth. In an effort to escape his fates he leaves Egypt and arrives at Naharin where he wins a jumping competition and the hand of the local Princess in marriage. With the help of his new wife he successfully avoids two of his fates, but nearing the conclusion of the encounter with the last fate the papyrus breaks off. 2 References to Doomed Prince are from Gardiner (1932). 3 It is noteworthy that no particular god is mentioned, probably with the purpose of making the text timeless. Any particular god could be inserted into this place if necessary or left ambiguous.

                                                            

4 Ahmose: Urk. IV 14; Thutmose I: Urk. IV 86; Thutmose II: Urk. IV 139; Thutmose III; Urk. IV 610-19; Amunhotep II: Urk. IV 1276 ff.; Thutmose IV: Urk. IV 1540, 20. 5 For the birth scenes of Hatshepsut see PM II2, 347-50; Naville (1897, pls. XLVI-LV); Brunner (1964, 12-166 scenes I-XV). 6 For birth scenes of Amunhotep III see PM II2, 326-328, 99-119; Brunner (1964, 12-166, scenes I-XV, pls. 1-15, 19-23).

145 

DAVID STEWART war reliefs from the reign of Seti I at Karnak,8 Ramesses II at the Temple of Luxor, Abu Simbel and the Ramesseum,9 and Ramesses III at Medinet Habu,10 as well a host of others, all share the same iconography, with the king in an iconic pose in his battle chariot. The king is necessarily depicted alone in his chariot with the horses in mid stride; he draws a bow and arrow or sometimes holds a curved sword at the height of its swing. The enemies often located beneath the king’s horses are all in the throes of death or beseech the king’s benevolence. Elsewhere the king is shown stepping into his chariot with the aid of his attendants. The battle scene forms the central episode in a wider narrative movement, often receiving the shortest inscription despite its importance (Cifola 1988, 284). The topos of the Hero King (Spalinger 2005, 101) was evoked by these representations; politically motivated, it was clearly used to extol the king and confirm his strength and dominion over Egypt and her surroundings. These reliefs were aimed directly at legitimising the king’s political position. Returning to the Doomed Prince, the equipment scene serves to push the narrative by allowing the Prince to leave Egypt and be received in Naharin without incident. It also connects him to the legitimising force behind the equipment. The equipment itself contains within it an inherent legitimacy that associates the Prince with the idea of the Warrior King on the battlefield. Through its use the Prince gains a profoundly important royal ideology, continuing his development towards legitimacy.

belongs to him, my power belongs to him, my honour belongs to him, my crown belongs to him. He is the one who shall rule the Two Lands...” (Urk. IV, 221). Amunhotep III receives a parallel declaration most likely modelled on the Hatshepsut text (Murnane 1995, 23). Similar to the previously mentioned texts, these representations had clear political aims surrounding the legitimacy of the king. The divine source of kingship essential for royal ideology had to be rightly given to the choice of the gods. The divine recognition of the ruling fitness of the king was thus illustrated in a public forum (Bryan 1998, 29). In the Doomed Prince we see the same legitimising force at work. The Prince as a product of a divinely inspired conception stands as a legitimate ruler. He is fit to rule not only because of his royal lineage but also due to his connection, through birth, to the divine. In this way he is shown as the choice of the gods to be the next king. This clearly emulates kingship practises surrounding the royal birth whereby the fitness of the king to rule was established in the same way. This characterisation of the Prince serves to drive the narrative of the story forward allowing for the necessary birth of the Prince. More importantly it bestows a royal ideology essential for a legitimate claim to the kingship. When the Prince sets out on his journey across the desert, the equipment he receives emphasises his status within the story.

In this same scene the Prince is also identified with the ideology of the successful hunter. During the journey of the Prince we are told:

“Then a chariot was harnessed for him it being equipped with every weapon of combat and a servant following him was given to him as an attendant” (Doomed Prince, 4,13-5,1).

“He went northward over the desert, following his inclination and living on every sort of desert game” (Doomed Prince, 5,2).

The equipment itself, the chariot, the weapons, the attendant and also the dog which is brought along, mark the Prince as someone of status and importance. The close association between royalty and chariots, as well as their horses, is well evidenced. It is also noteworthy that the horse and chariot were symbols of the Marrianu (Galan 2005, 119), the elite warriors of Naharin. This might explain the actions of the gathered Syrian princes who care for the Egyptian prince (Doomed Prince, 5,9), if they identified him as an elite chariot warrior; an identification that the Prince uses later to falsely describe his origins. More specifically, the Prince and his equipment closely resemble the depiction of the King on campaign in foreign lands (Galan 2005, 119). This depiction saw a widespread treatment in the later New Kingdom particularly in the Nineteenth Dynasty where the kings devoted entire temple walls to their war reliefs. This rise in narrative military art saw the expansion of the traditional smiting scene,7 attested as early as Narmer (Assmann 2002, 248), to show the victory of the King on the battlefield itself (Gaballa 1976, 100). The extensive

As part of royal dogma the successful hunter was interchangeable with the victorious warrior (Decker 1992, 148). Like the battlefield, the hunting ground was the ideal place for the demonstration of his abilities and the two are often linked in New Kingdom texts and representations. The Armant Stela and the Gebel Barkal

                                                            

8 Campaigns in Syria and Palestine located on the Exterior Hypostyle Hall North side at Karnak: PM II2, 166, 167, 169; Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 34, 36, 39, 40, 42, 45f, 50f, 53. 9 Campaigns in Syria located on the Exterior Hypostyle Hall South side at Karnak: PM II2, 171, 172, 174; Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 54, 54a, 55, 55a. Attack on Dapur located at the Ramesseum: PM II2 18; Wreszinski Atlas II, pl. 107. Various battle scenes with Asiatics located at Luxor: PM II2, 215, 202-203, 204; Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 66f. 71, 77. Abu Simbel: PM VII, 39-40; Wreszinski Atlas II, pl. 183. Various battle scenes with Nubians located at Beit el-Wali: PM VII, 23-24; Wreszinski Atlas II, pl. 165f. Derr: PM VII, 85; Wreszinski Atlas II, pl. 168a. Battle of Kadesh reliefs Abu Simbel: PM VII, 103-104, Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 169-178. Luxor: PM II2, 13, Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 83-89. Ramesseum: PM II2, 4, 10; Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 96-99, 100-106. 10 Medinet Habu; Libyan Campaign: PM II2, 63, 93-95, 187, 190, 191, 192; Wreszinski Atlas II, pls. 121f, 129f, 136ff, 141f. Nubian Campaign PM II2, 194. Sea Peoples Land Battle: PM II2, 188, 189., Wreszinski Atlas II, pl. 113f. Asiatic Campaign: PM II2, 190, 191, 192; Wreszinski Atlas, pl. 151. Karnak; PM II2 114, 116; Wreszinski II pls. 62b, 62a.

                                                            

7 The smiting scene has been discussed in Swan Hall (1986). See also Johnson (1992, 93-94).

146

Characterisation and Legitimisation in the Doomed Prince  Stela of Thutmosis III have the king performing a big game hunt after a successful campaign (Decker 1975, 4952). Likewise the hunting scenes of Rameses III are situated in the same vicinity and even in the middle of his war reliefs at Medinet Habu. The representation of the royal hunt shares the same iconographic features as its military counterpart. The king hunts alone from a chariot and is depicted in the classic battle pose thus demonstrating his abilities in hunting. Acting with the same legitimising purpose as military reliefs, the hunting reliefs provided the king another vehicle for proving his ruling fitness. The situation in the Doomed Prince demands that the Prince hunt for food while he journeys. However, it clearly evokes the royal ideology of the hunter in the same way as his equipment evoked the ideology of the warrior. Hence in this one scene the Prince becomes the personification of the merger between warrior and hunter and by doing so gains the most powerful and widely recognisable of royal legitimisations. The third major narrative movement reveals the physical prowess of the Prince as he engages in a jumping competition:

of its target while he attacked the next post” (Lichtheim 1976, 41). These sports all have clear links to ritual activities that confirmed the fitness of the king to rule (Bryan 1998, 33). Putting the historical issue of the actual abilities of Amunhotep II aside,12 from the context of the demonstrations it is clear that they qualified him to rule. The combination of the sporting achievements with his appointment as king was designed to show his legitimacy. This text sees a visual counterpart in the Archery Stela of Amunhotep II, which depicts the king in the iconic battle pose having shot a copper target through five times with his bow and arrow. Coupled with its inscription describing the deed, it is a clear demonstration of the unequalled abilities of the king. Evidently the king was secure enough in his abilities to engage in direct competition. This was the ideal way to assert one’s superiority; however, due to royal conventions the King could not participate in sporting competition for there could be no doubt cast upon the supremacy of the King (Decker 1992, 109). In a unique text from Medamud, Amunhotep II challenges anyone to try and equal his accomplishment in archery. “[His Majesty shot at a copper target] 3/4 [of a hand’s breadth] in thickness. He pierced it with the first arrow so that 7/9 of the shaft of the arrow which was in the target protruded beyond the other side...He said, ‘Whoever transfixes this target to the extent His Majesty’s arrow did, to him belongs these things.’ Whereupon they began to shoot at this target” (Decker 1992, 41).

“Now after had passed, the boy came in order to leap up along with the children of the princes. He lept up and reached the window of the daughter of the Prince of Naharin” (Doomed Prince, 6,4-6,5). This scene shifts the direction of the story dramatically as the Prince is transformed from a visitor to local royalty through his marriage to the Princess. The continuation of the story is allowed at the same time as the unique status of the Prince is confirmed. The feat of jumping to the window of the Princess, some thirty-five metres above the ground, raises the physical abilities of the Prince to the level of superhuman. In doing this he emulates the practises of the kings of Egypt, who often boast in their commemorative titles and inscriptions about being physically superior and defeating their rivals (Galan 2005, 121). While most notably associated with the battlefield, the sporting arena was also used to display physical dominance (Galan 2005, 121). During the Eighteenth Dynasty the practise of recording sporting achievements grew to its zenith as royal ideology became intimately connected with sporting greatness.11 Nowhere is this more evident than on the Sphinx Stela of Amunhotep II (Urk. IV, 1276-83), where the multitude of sporting achievements of the King are recounted. He demonstrates his abilities in boating: “Strong of arms, untiring when he took the oar, he rowed at the stern of his falcon-boat as the stroke-oar” (Lichtheim 1976, 41), running: “he could not be approached in running” (Lichtheim 1976, 41), horsemanship: “he raised horses that were unequalled” (Lichtheim 1976, 41), and archery: “He drew his bow while holding four arrows together in his fist. Thus he rode northwards shooting at them, like Mont in his panlopy, each arrow coming out at the back

                                                             11

The relevant texts are collected in Decker (1975).

While the end of the text is lost the outcome of the contest was doubtless an overwhelming victory by the king.13 This unusual text which violates Egyptian canon reveals the visible nature of the sporting king. The more visibly he was seen to fit the dogmatic aspects of the kingship the better his legitimacy was demonstrated (Decker 1992, 42). The competition in the Doomed Prince provides the Prince with the same kind of legitimacy. It visibly emphasises the unique character of the Prince as distinct from his competitors as he is capable of sporting feats that nobody else can equal.14 This separates and elevates him above all others following royal tradition. The ruling fitness of the Prince is demonstrated through the same legitimising sphere as the kings of Egypt. Thus he is identified with another powerful royal ideology that continues his development towards becoming a legitimate ruler. Finally, the ability of the Prince to overcome and ultimately avoid his fate completes his character development. The animal embodiments of fate, the snake,

                                                            

12 See Decker (1977, 1-20) and Der Manuelian (1987, 191-213). Decker argues that the description of the king as an athlete was due to the ritualised need for a youthful virile king at his coronation while Der Manuelian argues that the description is historically accurate and that Decker overemphasises the ritual function. 13 Any other outcome is unthinkable in terms of royal ideology. 14 The Prince can compete because he is not king yet and is thus free of the royal dogma that would otherwise preclude him from such an engagement.

147 

DAVID STEWART dog and crocodile are not an arbitrary choice, for these animals are associated with destiny in other contexts (Eyre 1976, 103-114). They provide the original push that sets the narrative in motion and likewise they bring it to its final phases. In the later course of the story the three fates reveal themselves to the Prince as specific instances of destiny; that is, they are not just any snake, dog or crocodile but unique animals (Eyre 1976, 103-114). Particularly revealing are the words spoken by the Prince’s wife after the death of the snake, “See your god has delivered one of your fates into your hand” (Doomed Prince, 8,5). The dog then reveals itself as the fate (Doomed Prince, 8,8), and lastly the crocodile announces to the Prince that “I am the fate that has been made to come in pursuit of you” (Doomed Prince, 8,11). Although the end of the story is lost the implication is that once these fates are avoided, the fate is avoided forever. The unique character of the Prince is highlighted by the way in which he must avoid the final and most dangerous fate, the crocodile. We see tantalising glimpses of a deal between the crocodile and the Prince that would see his freedom if he helps kill the water spirit or power. The defeat of a being more powerful than fate would confirm the position of the Prince as a uniquely gifted individual. Assuming the success of this endeavour, the situation is apt in terms of the narrative as it would allow the Prince to return home to fulfil his role as heir to the Egyptian throne. In doing this he would complete the narrative cycle that started his journey and uphold the correct royal succession. The Prince’s actions also see certain parallels with royal ideology surrounding the idea of fate. The overriding notion of fate in Egyptian texts is that one’s lifespan was fixed at birth (Baines 1994, 37). While kings could and frequently sought extensions to their allotted time, commonly receiving the outlandish sum of millions of years, it is clear that control of fate lay with the gods. Siegfried Morenz (1973, 29-30) argues convincingly for this fact as does Jan Quaegebeur (1975, 76-109), who collates a full summary of instances when deities are identified with or have control over fate.15 However, in the later New Kingdom, texts arise describing the king as the creator of destiny. Akhenaten is described as “the creator of fate who brings Renenet into being” (Quaegebeur 1975, 81). Parallel statements concerning his identification as an inundation for his subjects could suggest that his power over fate lay in the extension of royal power with the increased divinity of the king (Baines 1994, 45). The statement of control over fate is not out of place when considering the extensive claims of divinity and of intervening between the divine and human that Akhenaten asserted. Likewise, control over fate is attested for Ramesses II who is given a similar epithet to Akhenaten in the Dedication Inscription at Abydos (Quagebeur 1975, 109). While it seems unlikely that this viewpoint was a matter of common belief, it could be representative of the divine power that the king symbolised on earth. The royal exclusiveness of the intervening power the king held with the gods isolates

him above society. This carries with it an inherent legitimising current affirming the power and position of the king. In this same vein the Doomed Prince as the creator of his own destiny is identified with royal control surrounding fate and its intrinsic legitimising power. His ability to escape fate proves his legitimacy once and for all. The necessary happy ending must occur but it does so in a way that bestows royal identity on the Prince. This identification allows the Prince to be seen as having typical royal powers that legitimise his status as heir to the throne. The characterisation of the Prince is thus intimately connected to typical royal ideologies. Each major narrative movement necessarily advances the story but does so in a way that emphasises the unique status of the Prince. With each event a new ideology is presented and by the end of the story he has all the necessary qualifications of a New Kingdom ruler. In this characterisation, the political message of the Doomed Prince is delivered. A reciprocal relationship between the character of the Prince and the kings of Egypt emerges surrounding their common legitimising techniques. As already demonstrated, the Prince makes use of images and representations normally used by Egyptian kings on reliefs, stela and other texts to demonstrate and reinforce their right to rule. This borrowing of royal practise, acts with both narrative and characterising force driving the plot of the story, while concurrently setting the Prince up as a legitimate ruler. The requisite happy ending which would see the Prince become the king of Egypt can then occur. The story can thus come to a close and the narrative circle completed in a way that upholds the rightful succession and confirms the authenticity of the legitimising aspects the Prince receives. Reciprocity comes in the form of support for these royal ideologies. The final transformation of the Prince into the king would confirm the power of the legitimising techniques, for without them he cannot become king. The Prince becomes a symbol for the rightful kingship as he is the embodiment of quintessential royal power. In essence the Prince holds all the major royal ideologies, previously established in many different ways, in one neat package. The confirmation of the power of these ideas serves as a forceful comment on the kingship and its political position. It re-establishes the idea that the king holds power because of who he is and what he can do. When read aloud or to oneself, the rule of the king, or more importantly his right to do so, was made firm. The political aims of the story are thus of maintaining the status quo through the re-assertion of kingship ideologies.

ABBREVIATIONS PM II2=Porter; Moss 1972 PM VII=Porter; Moss 1951 Urk= Sethe 1961 Wreszinski Atlas=Wreszinski Wreszinski1923-1938)

                                                             15

Both authors assert that the gods controlled fate and cite numerous texts in support of this. Quaegebeur extends the idea further with a collections of deities linked with the god Shay.

148

1988

(reprint

of

Characterisation and Legitimisation in the Doomed Prince  Lichtheim, M. 1976. Ancient Egyptian Literature. Vol.2. Berkeley: University of California Press.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Assmann, J. 2002. The Mind of Egypt: History and the Meaning in the Time of the Pharaohs. New York: Metropolitan Books.

Morenz, S. 1973. Egyptian Religion. London: Methuen.

Baines, J. 1994. ‘Contexts of Fate: Literature and Practical Religion’. In The Unbroken Reed: Studies in the Culture and Heritage of Ancient Egypt: in honour of A. F. Shore, edited by Eyre, C. J. Egypt Exploration Society Occasional Publications 11. London: Egypt Exploration Society, 35-52.

Naville, E. 1897. Temple of Deir el Bahari II. Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund 14. London: Egypt Exploration Fund.

Brunner, H. 1964. Die Geburt des Gottko nigs: Studien zur U berlieferung eines alta gyptischen Mythos. Ägyptologische Abhandlungen 10. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Bryan, B. 1998. ‘Antecedents to Amenhotep III’. In Amenhotep: Perspectives on His Reign, edited by O’Connor, D; Cline, E. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 27-62. Cifola, B. 1988. ‘Ramses III and the Sea Peoples: A structural Analysis of the Medinet Habu Inscriptions’. Orientalia 57: 275-306. Decker, W. 1975. Quellentexte zu Sport und Körperkultur im Alten Ägypten. St Augustine: Hans Richarz. Decker, W. 1977. ‘Sportliche Altägyptischen Krönungsritual’. Altägyptischen Kultur 5: 1-20.

Elemente Studien

im zur

Decker, W. 1992. Sports and Games of Ancient Egypt. Trans. Guttmann, A. New Haven: Yale University Press. Der Manuelian, P. 1987. Studies in the Reign of Amenophis II. Hildesheimer Ägyptologische Beiträge 26. Hildesheim: Gerstenberg. Eyre, C. 1976. ‘Fate, Crocodiles and the Judgement of the Dead: Some Mythological Allusions in Egyptian Literature’. Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 4: 103-114. Gaballa, G. A. 1976. Narrative in Egyptian Art. Sonderschriften des Deutschen Archäologischen Institut, Abteilung Kairo 2. Mainz am Rhein: Phillip von Zabern.

Murnane, W. J. 1995. Texts from the Amarna Period in Egypt. Atlanta: Scholar’s Press.

Porter, B; Moss, R. 1951. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Paintings and Reliefs. Volume VII: Nubia, the Deserts, and Outside Egypt. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Porter, B; Moss, R. 1972. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Paintings and Reliefs. Volume II: Theban Temples. 2nd edn. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Quaegebeur, J. 1975. Le dieu égyptien Shai dans la religion et l'onomastique. Leuven: Leuven University Press. Robins, G. 1983. ‘The God’s Wife of Amun in the 18th Dynasty in Egypt’. In Images of Women in Antiquity, edited by Cameron, A; Kuhrt, A. London: Routledge, 6575. Sethe, K. 1961. Urkunden der 18 Dynastie. Bände I-IV. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag; Akademische Druck-und Verlagsanstalt Graz. Spalinger, A. 2005. War in Ancient Egypt. Malden: Blackwell. Swan Hall, E. 1986. The Pharaoh Smites his Enemies: A Comparative Study.  Münchner Ägyptologische Studien 44. Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag. Wreszinski, W. 1988. Atlas zur altaegyptischen Kulturgeschichte. Geneve: Slatkine (Reprint of Wreszinski, W. 1923-1938. Atlas zur altaegyptischen Kulturgeschichte. Vol. 1-3. Leipzig: Hinrichs).  

Galan, J. M. 2005. Four Journeys in Ancient Egyptian Literature. Lingua Aegyptia Studia monographica 5. Göttingen: Seminar für Ägyptologie und Koptologie. Gardiner, A. H. 1932. Late Egyptian Stories. Bruxelles: Édition de la Fondation égyptologique Reine Élisabeth. Johnson, W. 1992. An Asiatic Battle Scene of Tutankhamun From Thebes. PhD Thesis. Chicago: University of Chicago. Lichtheim, M. 1975. Ancient Egyptian Literature. Vol.1. Berkeley: University of California Press.

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The Typology of 26th Dynasty Funerary Figurines Sharyn Volk Funerary figurines of the 26th Dynasty exhibit a diversity of forms. The extent of this diversification is demonstrated in the analysis of a selection of figurines from the collections of the British, Petrie and Fitzwilliam museums. A comparison of the stylistic attributes evident on these figurines with Schneider’s typology published in 1977 reveals numerous deviations. This typology has been accepted as a reference point in the study of figurines, but for a better understanding of the funerary figurines of the 26th Dynasty the existing classification needs to be revised. An expanded typology including types not currently represented also has the potential to offer greater insight into the lives of the people who lived during this period in ancient Egypt.

shabtis, that is ‘to stimulate the systematic research and publication of ancient Egyptian funerary statuettes’ (Schneider in Janes 2002). This paper seeks to reflect the beginning of a systematic research program of the type Schneider envisaged. Schneider studied the collection of figurines at the National Museum of Antiquities at Leiden. This collection comprised 972 figurines. Of this number, one was dated to the Middle Kingdom, 16 to the Second Intermediate Period, 300 to the New Kingdom, 207 to the Third Intermediate Period and 448 to the Late Period. Schneider’s chronology refers to the 26th Dynasty as early Late Period. Of the total 448 figurines attributed to the Late Period only 45 figurines are attributed to the 26th Dynasty. Given the small sample of 26th Dynasty figurines included in Schneider’s study, it cannot be accepted as a definitive typology applicable to this period. Notwithstanding this fact, and in the absence of a better framework, Schneider’s iconographic ‘keys’ will be used to facilitate analysis of a selection of 26th Dynasty figurines from the collections of the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge, the British Museum in London, and the Petrie Museum in London. For the purpose of this study primary concern will be design, and more specifically the elements of design indicating types of implements, wigs, bags, hands, and text position.

INTRODUCTION Ancient Egyptians believed that the afterlife replicated many features of the earthly life. This belief system dictated the nature of the ancient Egyptian tomb and how it should be furnished. During the Middle Kingdom, around 2100 BCE, the model servants which had been evident in Old Kingdom burials were replaced by a new type of funerary figurine, which over the centuries from the Middle Kingdom through to the Late Period was known by three similar, but different, names: shabti, shawabti and ushebti. The differentiation between the three, often evidenced in the magic spell on the body of the figurines, is vital in terms of chronological placement of recovered figurines without provenance. Because of this variation, for the purpose of this study the term ‘funerary figurine’ will be employed.

THE DIVERSITY OF DESIGN ELEMENTS Materials and Artisans The use of a variety of raw materials is attested in the production of funerary figurines. Wood is evidenced from the inception of the figurines through to the end of the 20th Dynasty. Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 233) specifically suggests the use of Christ-thorn, sycamore, acacia, tamarisk and to a lesser extent ebony and coniferous wood. Pottery is evident from the beginning of the New Kingdom through to the end of the Third Intermediate Period, while clay seems to have been a material favoured from the 20th through to the end of the 24th Dynasty. Glass is attested for the years of the 18th and 19th Dynasties, although glass figurines are quite uncommon and probably manufactured only in royal workshops (Schneider 1977 Vol. 1, 237). Figurines made from copper and bronze, both very prestigious materials, have been dated to the New Kingdom, while stone is common among recovered figurines from the Middle Kingdom. Hard stone such as granite and schist as well as the softer limestone, serpentine and steatite were favoured during the 18th and 19th Dynasties. Petrie (1935, 12) particularly refers to the use of a ‘fine hard white limestone’ in the Middle Kingdom and then a softer limestone through to the 19th Dynasty. In the years after that, his study reveals only one limestone figurine, and that has been dated to the 25th Dynasty. Schneider (1977

The work of Hans Schneider (three volumes published in 1977) has been widely accepted as offering a typology for the study of Egyptian funerary figurines. Perhaps this acceptance can be traced to Schneider’s contention that ‘the catalogue in which these are listed may serve as a model for a shabti publication in general’ (Schneider 1977 Vol. 1, 159). This contention is presented under the chapter heading ‘Proof of a General Iconography of Shabtis’ (Schneider 1977 Vol. 1, 159). Additionally, Schneider notes that ‘from material, shape and iconographical details, criteria can be deduced, according to which a chronological arrangement of shabtis in classes can be built up’ (Schneider 1977 Vol. 1, 159). Haynes (1986, 576) recognised that Schneider’s typology did not provide a comprehensive classification, and that the typology required expansion before it could be recognised as a ‘universal tool for cataloguing’. Did Schneider intend his study to be definitive? In the foreword to Janes’ (2002) recent study of 140 figurines held in European private collections, Schneider suggests in introducing Janes’ publication that he is reminded of the purpose he had in mind when working on his study of

151

SHARYN VOLK and beards, or lack thereof. Of the forty-five wig types identified by Schneider, five of these are nominated specifically as Saite. 11% of the wig types are therefore represented by 4.6% of the total figurines. This points toward a diversity of form during the period. Multiplicities of features are markers of wig type. These features include but are not exclusive to:

Vol. 1, 234) reports that the use of alabaster increased from the reign of Akhenaten. By the end of the 20th Dynasty, however, stone was no longer a preferred material. Haynes and Leprohon (1987, 23) note the reappearance of stone figurines from the late half of the 25th Dynasty through to the early 26th Dynasty. Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 234) specifically refers to the use of dark and hard stones. Beyond these periods many of the figurines became rather shapeless, and colours and paints were used as substitutes for sculptured details. It is thought that because of the increasing numbers of figurines required for single individuals, manufacturing methods were standardised, and faience became a popular material because it suited mass production (Taylor 2001, 128).

 The size of the forehead and whether it appears flat or rounded.  The height of the forehead from the eyebrows to the wig.  The positioning of the ears in relationship to the eyes.  The width of the front wig outside the ears.  The length of the beard compared to the length of the wig.  The angle of the back wig from the shoulder line to the base of the wig.  The nature of the relationship between the bottom of the back wig and the top of the back pillar.

Nicholson and Peltenburg (2000, 178) suggest the two words, thnt and hsbd, used by the Egyptians in reference to faience, invoke the notion of a ‘shining, gleaming or dazzling’ material which suggests the ancient Egyptians prized it, as they did gemstones, for its properties of brilliance. Vandiver and Kingery (1987, 19) describe faience as ‘the first high-tech ceramic’ and support the notion of its use as an artificial precious stone, suggesting the use of finely crushed quartz was recognised as being capable of reflecting light through the glaze to give the effect naturally achieved by precious gemstones. Although into the Late Period the use of faience as a material in the production of funerary figurines was clearly because of its suitability to mass production, the fine faience figurines of the 26th Dynasty, which are the subject of this study, could be reflective of the archaising tendencies of the Saites. Their use of faience was as a clever substitute for materials that were more difficult and expensive to source. In their use of this ‘artificial gemstone’ they could achieve a result which was still suggestive of status and prestige, and reminiscent of the periods that they were emulating.

The figurines examined for the purpose of this research revealed a great diversity of form in wig types (Table 1). Fitz E.18b.1926 wears a Type 37 plaited beard, and a wig shape at the front which is suggestive of Schneider’s Type 39. The back wig on this figurine is not reminiscent of any of Schneider’s Saite types. BM 64347 wears a beard as Type 38 but the length of the beard is shorter than the lappets so does not comply with the typology. The front wig on this figurine is reminiscent of Type 39, but with a single horizontal band on the lappets as Type 38. The back wig shape does not match any of Schneider’s Saite types. Fitz. E.64.1940 wears a plaited beard as Type 38, and the front wig is as Type 39 but without horizontal bands on the lappets. Again, the back wig cannot be matched to a known Schneider type. Examination of this selection of three figurines reveals that the beard and the front wig could generally be matched to something in Schneider’s typology, but none of the elements combined to create a correct whole. The back wig on all figurines was problematic as this shape is simply not offered as a possibility on a Saite figurine. However, an examination of the wig types outside of the Saite Period reveals a wig shape that matches those on the figurines under study. This is a Type 8 wig which is described as a New Kingdom striated lappet wig with more than one horizontal band. Attempting to fit the wigs worn by the figurines into Schneider’s typology demonstrates the potential for the development of new types relevant to the Saite period.

In the first part of a planned trilogy on material culture, Sennett (2008) questions what the process of making things reveals to us about ourselves, and notes the possibilities of the production of things in the generation of religious, social or political values. In his review of the ateliers associated with the production of ancient Egyptian funerary figurines, Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 345) observes that groups of shabtis can be distinguished as the work of particular ateliers on the basis of ‘style, craftsmanship and composition of materials’. We know that Egyptian funerary figurines reveal a great deal about the ritual activity that occurred after death and the nature of belief in the afterlife, but there are possibilities beyond this. They have the potential to afford insight into the lives of the artisans who created them, and also tell a story of the social and economic status of their owners in the ancient world.

Figurine Ref.

Wigs Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 165) identified two main wig types, the lappet wig, and the duplex, or wig of daily life. The wig-key reveals two other important elements, ears

152

Dyn.

BM13779

26th

BM13789

26th

BM55284

26th

Observation Front Type 35a Back Type 34 but covered in text Front closest Type 34 but beard & lappets same length. Back closest Type 34 but 3 horizontal regs text Front closest Type 34 but beard & lappets same length. Back Closest Type 34 but 3 horizontal regs text

The Typology of 26th Dynasty Funerary Figurines 

BM64347

26th

BM69570

26th

BM69840

26th

BM8986

26th

E.6.1896

26th

E.7.1922

26th

E.18a.1926

26th

E.18b.1926 E.42.1932

26th 26th

E.64.1940

26th

E.108.1891

26th

E.GA.2643.1943

26th

E.GA.2652.1943

26th

UC40313

26th

UC40329

26th

BM64347 BM69570 BM69840 BM8986 E.6.1896 E.7.1922 E.18a.1926 E.18b.1926 E.42.1932 E.64.1940 E.108.1891 E.GA.2643.1943 E.GA.2652.1943

Front Type 8 but lappets longer than beard. Back closest. Type 8 but single horizontal band on wig & lappets Closest Type 34 but with plaited beard. Beard and lappets equal length Closest Type 34 but with plaited beard. Beard and lappets equal length Front Type 34 but beard and lappets same length. Back closest Type 34 Closest Type 6 but with plaited beard Front closest Type 36. Back closest Type 35b Front closest Type 38. Back Type 37 Type 38 Type 17 Closest Type 37 but back wig shape closest Type 8 without horizontal bands Closest Type 34 but with plaited beard. Beard and lappets equal length Closest Type 37 Closest Type 36 but without horizontal bands on lappets Closest Type 36 but without horizontal bands on lappets. Spell extending up into back wig Closest Type 21 but with beard as Type 36. Lappets longer than beard

26th

BM13789

26th

BM55284

26th

26th

The most important iconographic development in funerary figurines of the 18th Dynasty was the addition of agricultural tools including, hoes, picks and bags. These implements were required to execute the tasks the figurine was called upon to perform in the shabti spell (Schneider 1977 Vol. 1, 169). The figurines of Tuthmosis IV are the first datable figurines to carry tools (Taylor 2001, 121). Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 169) comments that hoes were the most common agricultural implement in ancient Egypt and there were three major types, the natural or simple hoe, the compound hoe with broad blade, and the compound hoe with narrow blunt or pointed blade. On Late Period figurines Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 169) reports that the broad bladed hoe is replaced by the pick, and the compound hoe with narrow blunt or pointed blade became prevalent, and is then found in combination with the pick. Beyond hoes and picks additional implements included in Schneider’s key are whips, crooks, yokes and brick moulds. The key suggests twenty-seven different implement combinations, which are not nominated as belonging to specific periods. Of these twenty-seven combinations, Types 1 through 10 refer to hoes and picks only. It is these types against which the figurines subject to study must be compared. 

The hand-key formulated by Schneider nominates thirtysix different hand positions. Unlike the wig-key, none of the types are nominated as belonging to specific periods. For the present analysis concern is with positioning only; whether the hands are crossed right over left or left over right, opposed, crossed opposite, or not indicated at all. The indication of sleeves or not is also a determinant of hand type. In comparing the hands on the 26th Dynasty figurines that are the subject of this study to Schneider’s typology (Table 2) the most frequently occurring Type is 30, which is described as hands crossed opposite, unsleeved, arms not indicated. Type 23 also appears on multiple figurines: hands crossed opposite, sleeves combined and curved. The classical hand position of hands crossed right over left, with sleeves not indicated (Type 5) was observed on three figurines. Further examination of a wider sample of figurines may provide information that allows particular hand types to be identified with specific periods.

BM13779

26th

UC40329

Implements

Hands

Dyn.

UC40313

Type 5 Type 30 Type 5 Type 30 Type 23 Type 23 Closest Type 5 Closest Type 4 One broken. Maybe Type 20 Type 23 Type 5 Type 30 Type 2 Closest Type 24 but area between hands extremely wide Closest Type 4

Table 2 Hands Analysis. 

Table 1 Wig Analysis.

Figurine Ref.

26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th 26th

Analyses of implements on the subject figurines generally reveal features that do not comply with Schneider’s key (Table 3). Variations to the key include details such as striations on the cross bar, an extended length on the outside handle of the hoe, and a combination of types. The implements that are depicted on figurines are renditions of actual agricultural implements that were employed in everyday life in ancient Egypt. An extended study of a larger sample of figurines, and an examination of extant examples of actual implements, may yield new types that should be added to the implements typology.

Observation Closest Type 30 but hands very widely spaced and text written between hands Type 29 or Type 30? Type 30 but space of almost 2 1/2 hand widths between hands

Figurine Ref. BM13779

153

Dyn. 26th

Observation Incised pick on right side with no cross bar. Left side indicates zero implements.

SHARYN VOLK BM13789

26th

BM55284

26th

BM64347

26th

BM69570

26th

BM69840

26th

BM8986

26th

E.6.1896

26th

E.7.1922

26th

E.18a.1926

26th

E.18b.1926

26th

E.42.1932

26th

E.64.1940

26th

E.108.1891

26th

E.GA.2652.1943

26th

E.GA.2643.1943

26th

UC40313

26th

UC40329

26th

on Wendrich (1999) who has completed the most significant work undertaken on basketry in ancient Egypt. She has identified a variety of basketry techniques used to indicate the different interactions of strands making up baskets, mats, bags, nets, brooms or sandals (Wendrich 2000, 254). Wendrich (pers. comm.) suggests in the light of full size and miniature extant examples the most common basket that could be anticipated being used for carrying seed would be a slightly trapezoid open twined basket/bag or alternatively a closely twined basket/bag. Agricultural scenes most often depict twined bags, and the sowing of seed is undertaken from the same bags in which the wheat and barley harvest is collected. It is suggested that twined bags acted as both vessels for transport and for measurement and recording (Wendrich pers. comm.). Haynes and Leprohon (1987, 26) suggest the possibility of crediting the Kushites with providing the idea for ‘the Saite-type seed bag that is slung over the left shoulder’. The ambiguous nature of the depiction of elements on Late Period figurines is evident in the archaeological record on basketry. As a general conclusion it can be said in terms of ancient Egyptian basketry that there is a clear continuity between Neolithic, Predynastic and Pharaonic culture, which is in contrast with the basketry revolution taking place in the Greco-Roman period (Wendrich 2000, 261). The plaited and sewn plaits technique was firmly established by the Roman period but the time of its emergence is unclear (Wendrich pers. comm.).

Incised pick on right side. Left side indicates zero implements. Incised hoe on right side with no cross bar. Left side indicates zero implements. Petrie suggests Type 8 but there is full extension on side bar and striated cross bar Type 8 pick. Type 7 hoe but with fully extended side bar and striated cross bar In left hand as type 8 but with full extension. Unable to make out detail of pick As l/h side of Type 1 on both sides, striations on cross bar As Type 8 but outside bar more extended and striations on cross bar Maybe r/h side Type 11. Closest to l/h side Type 6 Type 7 on left side. Type 8 on right side As Type 8 but extension of bar to top As Type 6 but no striations on right hand cross bar Type 8 but outside bar more extended As Type 8 but outside bar more extended. As Type 8 but outside bar more extended and striations on cross bar Type 8 Type 7 on left side but full extension on bar. Pick is Type 8 Pick as Type 8 but bar through handle. Hoe as Type 7 but full extension of bars/crossed at top

The bag-key formulated by Schneider identifies fortythree bag types, and of these, twelve are nominated as Saite. 28% of the bag types are therefore represented by 4.6% of the total figurines. Only two of the figurines examined for this study can be matched to Schneider’s types (Table 4). Figurine E.6.1896 carries a Type 22 bag described as a Saite trapezoid bag with vertical fibres. The bag carried by Figurine E.GA.2652.1943 is Type 20, which is erroneously described in notes to the key as a Saite rectangular bag with horizontal tripartite structure. To demonstrate consistency in the manner which bag descriptions have been constructed, the description for this bag should be Saite rectangular bag with vertical tripartite structure. Type 19 is described as a Saite rectangular bag with horizontal tripartite structure, but the sketch used as an example of this type indicates quadruple horizontal structure.

Table 3 Implements Analysis.  Bags and Baskets Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 172) suggests that the bag was an expression of preparedness for work, and links this interpretation to the idea that the spell urges the worker to stand ready to be called upon. This argument is supported by the notion that a full basket would have been carried on the shoulder or the head rather than slung over the back, and if it was carrying seed one hand would have been holding the basket, and the other would have been at the ready to spread the seed. All of the elements depicted on the figurines have symbolic value. In order to depict the entire selection of elements it would not have been possible to have one hand at the ready to spread the seed. This symbolism however, does not absolutely suggest a conclusion of preparedness for work. If an argument that the bag is symbolic of preparedness for work is accepted, it could equally be debated it was symbolic of the actual task of carrying seed for planting. Beyond their inherent symbolism many of the figurines evidence bags that were used in everyday life. The manner in which the bags are represented is analogous to the actual bag types which have been attested in ancient Egypt and which were used for this task.

These two discrepancies in the bag-key again evidence the need to revisit Schneider’s typology. Examination of the bags carried by the figurines under study within the framework of Schneider’s typology is absolutely supportive of great diversity of form during the Saite Period. This degree of diversity suggests analysis of a larger sample of 26th Dynasty figurines will identify commonly occurring shapes and patterns that can be developed as new types. Figurine Ref.

For the purpose of the analysis of bags carried by the figurines examined in research for this study, reliance is

BM13779

154

Dyn. 26th

Observation 5 x 5. As Type 26 but no hook evident

The Typology of 26th Dynasty Funerary Figurines  BM13789

26th

BM55284

26th

BM64347

26th

BM69570 BM69840 BM8986 E.6.1896

26th 26th 26th 26th

E.7.1922

26th

E.18a.1926

26th

E.18b.1926

26th

E.42.1932

26th

E.64.1940

26th

E.108.1891

26th

E.GA.2643.1943

26th

E.GA.2652.1943

26th

UC40313

26th

the history of funerary figurines, their form changed according to changes in coffins. According to Schneider only one Text Position type can be specifically nominated as belonging to the 26th Dynasty.

No match to type. Small square with single rope 5 x 5. Similar to type 18 but with single rope Plaited rope as Type 24. 7 vertical bobbles. Vertical rectangle Closest Type 22 3x3 Type 26b but 9 rows instead of 8 Type 22 Closest Type 19 but 3 horizontal rows rather than 4 Shape as Type 22 but 5 horizontal rows of alternating diagonals Closest pattern Type 19 but 3 horizontal sections only and trapezoid not vertical rectangle Closest Type 30 Closest Type 20, 3 vertical sections but with diagonal rather than horizontal patterning Closest shape Type 20 but patterning closest Type 26a Closest shape Type 20 with vertical and horizontal incisions Type 20 4 horizontals x 5 vertical, rectangle. Closest Type 13b but not trapezoid and one rope only Closest Type 20 but vertical section on L/H side not as delineated as other two vertical sections

Figurine Ref.

Dyn.

Observation 9 horizontal regs around body incl. feet & b/w hands/3 on wig. Narrow incised back pillar 7 horizontal regs around body incl. onto feet/3 on wig. No back pillar but lump 7 horizontal registers around body including onto feet/ 3 on wig. No back pillar 8 horizontal registers. Plain back pillar. Closest Type 3b but text does not extend to feet 11 horizontal registers with plain back pillar. Closest Type 3b Text on vertical at front and then on back pillar. Not wrapped around body. Closest Type 11

BM13779

26th

BM13789

26th

BM55284

26th

BM64347

26th

BM69570

26th

BM69840

26th

BM8986

26th

Closest Type 3b but with 7 horizontal registers rather than 8

E.6.1896

26th

E.7.1922

26th

E.18a.1926 E.18b.1926

26th 26th

E.42.1932

26th

Text and Text Position

E.64.1940

26th

Worker figurines relied on a magical incantation to function, first attested in the 12th Dynasty as spell 472 in the Coffin Texts, and later incorporated into the Book of the Dead as Chapter 6. During the 18th Dynasty this became the standard text for funerary figurines (Taylor 2001, 121). With the addition of implements to the figurine it was necessary to provide instructions for their use. The wording of the magical incantation on the figurines was comprehensively addressed by Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 78-158). In an examination of 650 figurines held at the collection of University College in London, and 565 other figurines in unspecified Italian and other museums, Petrie (1935) completed an extensive and detailed study of various spell formulations evident on ancient Egyptian funerary figurines. The nature of the spell is an extremely important feature of the figurine because it not only names the owner of the figurine, but for figurines without provenance the wording of the spell gives clues to chronological placement. Investigation of the various spell formulations requires an exhaustive and rigorous study in itself. Therefore, for the purpose of this study the spell text on each figurine will not be analysed, but observations will be made with respect to placement of the text.

E.108.1891

26th

E.GA.2643.1943

26th

E.GA.2652.1943

26th

UC40313

26th

UC40329

26th

Closest Type 11 but text on back pillar and around entire body Closest Type 11 but with plain back pillar Closest Type 3b Closest Type 3b Spell around entire body. No back pillar Horizontal registers with plain back pillar Front closest Type 8b but with plain back pillar Front closest Type 6 with a band of spell wrapping around waist to a plain back pillar Closest Type 8b but with plain back pillar Closest Type 3b but 9 horizontal registers i/o 8. Spell continues onto back pillar and wig Closest Type 3b but with 9 horizontal registers rather than 8

UC40329

26th

Table 4 Bag and Basket Analysis. 

Table 5 Text Position Analysis.  He nominates Type 3b as the ordinary Saite type with back pillar and beard. An attempt to match Schneider’s Text Position types to the figurines which were analysed for this study did not yield a single exact match (Table 5). A number of the 26th Dynasty figurines presented elements similar to Type 3b, but always with some variation. Type 3b carries eight delineated horizontal registers of text that wrap around the body but not onto the back pillar. The wig on this type is plain with beard at the same length as the lappets and no ears are evident. Figurine BM 64346 carries eight registers of delineated text that wrap around the body and not onto the pillar, but the text does not extend down the body to the feet and the wig is striated rather than plain. BM 69570 carries delineated horizontal registers that wrap around the body to a plain back pillar, but there are eleven registers rather than eight. UC 40329 evidences nine delineated

Schneider (1977 Vol. 1, 176) suggests that the reason why some figurines indicate text position confined to the front part of the body was because they were stored lying down in a model coffin. Types 1a and 1b are nominated as New Kingdom examples of this approach. Throughout

155

SHARYN VOLK bags carried by the figurines examined for this study. With the benefit of this insight an updated and expanded bag typology should certainly make reference to construction technique in addition to shape and structure. Examination of a wider sample of figurines may even contribute data that identifies the timing of the appearance of plaited and sewn plaits basketry in ancient Egypt. An updated and extended typology has the potential to assist in the ordered classification of material without provenance, and may support correct chronological placement. Closer examination of wig and bag types has the potential to contribute additional knowledge to scholars seeking answers to questions in these fields.

horizontal registers and a wig and beard, which are both striated and ears that are evident. The museum description for figurine E 18a.1926 describes the Text Position as Schneider Type 3b but the striated hair and beard are inconsistent with the Type. A study of a larger sample of figurines is clearly required to clarify a typology relevant to Text Position on figurines of the 26th Dynasty.

THE DEVELOPMENT AND APPLICATION OF AN EXPANDED TYPOLOGY FOR 26TH DYNASTY FIGURINES In the early study of the figurines examined for this research project it became obvious that most did not comply with the typology developed by Schneider. In personal communication I shared a number of images with Dr Schneider, suggesting it might be possible to formulate some new types relative to the Saite Period. He advised ‘if there are attribute types among them which occur more often, then it would be useful to publish them in a new typology of attributes on Late Period shabtis. I think unique examples – attribute types which only occur once – do not belong in a general typology, but may be mentioned in a list where you may cite exceptions, unique cases or variants of standard attribute types’ (Schneider pers. comm.).

 

Figure 2 Proposed 'Saite plain lappets with text on back  wig' type.

CONCLUSION

 

One of the great challenges faced by archaeologists is attempting to people an ancient culture from its material remains. Can the study of 26th Dynasty Egyptian funerary figurines afford any insight? Meskell (1999, 218) suggests the wealth of cultural information available from complex societies such as ancient Egypt may allow the construction of a cultural framework from which ‘an archaeology of individuals’ could be explored. The extraordinary value of ancient Egyptian funerary figurines derives from the fact that they were a symbol, ‘a vehicle for cultural meaning’ (Ortner 1973, 1339). The figurines were objects of ritual importance at a defining moment in the lifecycle, providing a solution to one of the challenges envisaged in the afterlife, ensuring order and resolution during a time of potential disorder. Turner (1975, 159) proposes ‘we master ourselves by symbols’ and further suggests symbols are at their richest concentration in ritual processes. Ancient Egyptian funerary figurines reflect this richness of value. Renfrew (2001, 27) suggests archaeology is about deepening our understanding of the human past through penetrating the shell of material remains and gleaning the cultural context within which an artifact existed. Through growing our understanding of the meanings of objects we can grow our understanding of the people who made them, and their cultural traditions.

 

Figure 1 Proposed 'Saite striated wig with one horizontal  band on lappet' type. I believe my research has already identified potential new types. The back wig shape nominated by Schneider as Type 8 should certainly belong to a wig in the Saite group. The potential new type would be described as a ‘Saite striated wig with one horizontal band on lappets’ (Figure 1). Additionally there should be a new type that specifically refers to three horizontal registers of hieroglyphs on the back wig, with the front perspective featuring a more oval shaped face with ear placement lower than the eyes, and a plain front wig with beard and hair equal length (Figure 2). This new type would be described as ‘Saite plain lappets with text on back wig’.

Beyond the identification of new types, perhaps the figurines of the Saites have the potential to reveal far more than descriptive analyses. This possibility has been affirmed recently in an article published by Haynes et al.

Professor Wendrich (pers. comm.) offered advice as to the various representations of basketry techniques on the

156

The Typology of 26th Dynasty Funerary Figurines  (2009) who conducted an extensive investigation into the funerary figurines buried in the pyramid of Taharqa. Compelling conclusions have been drawn regarding the actual stone types used, the workshops where they were produced, and a revised calculation as to the total number of figurines that were originally buried with the king. In their study of the Napatan figurines in the Royal Ontario Museum, Haynes and Leprohon (1987, 27) conclude the features of the figurines ‘reveal much about the rulers who ordered them made’.

Meskell, L. 1999. The Archaeologies of Social Life. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

The pathway to discovering more about the owners of the figurines is to revisit Schneider’s typology through an examination of a number of other collections, because a sample of 972 figurines held in a single collection can only offer the framework for the development of a typology. The preliminary study outlined in this paper has already identified new types within the context of Schneider’s own requirement, and further types will undoubtedly be revealed as a wider sample of figurines is studied. Extensive and systematic research will yield the development of an updated and extended typology, and then beyond the typology perhaps some insights into the people who owned the figurines. It is time to take another look at some of the vast Egyptian funerary figurine collections with fresh eyes, and learn more about the people who owned them.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1935. Shabtis Illustrated by the Egyptian Collection in University College, London. British School of Archaeology in Egypt 57. London: British School of Archaeology; Quaritch.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Taylor, J. H. 2001. Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt. London: The British Museum Press.

Nicholson, P. D; Peltenburg, E. 2000. ‘Egyptian Faience’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 177-194. Ortner, S. 1973. ‘On Key Symbols’. Anthropologist 75 (5): 1338-1346.

American

Renfrew, C. 2001. ‘From Social to Cognitive Archaeology: An interview with Colin Renfrew’. Journal of Social Archaeology 1 (13): 13-34. Schneider, H. D. 1977. Shabtis. An Introduction to the History of Ancient Egyptian Funerary Statuettes with a Catalogue of the Collection of Shabtis in the National Museum of Antiquities at Leiden Vols 1, 2 & 3. Leiden: Rijksmuseum Van Oudheden Te Leiden. Sennett, R. 2008. The Craftsman. London: Allen Lane.

The author would like to acknowledge the advice and counsel of Prof. Hans Schneider and Prof. Willeke Wendrich, and would like to thank Assoc. Prof. Colin Hope and Dr Christian Knoblauch for the opportunity to present at the conference. Additionally, thanks are due to the two reviewers of this article for providing careful scrutiny of the text. Their comments were greatly appreciated and very useful in preparing this report for publication. Wherever possible their feedback has been integrated into the present study and those concerns that have not been fully addressed here will be covered in future publications.

Turner, V. 1975. ‘Symbolic Studies’. Annual Review of Anthropology 4: 145-161. Vandiver, P; Kingery, W. D. 1987. ‘Egyptian faience: the first high-tech ceramic’. In High-Technology Ceramics: Past, Present and Future: the Nature of Innovation and Change in Ceramics, Technology, Ceramics and Civilisation 3, edited by Kingery, W. D. Proceedings of the 88th Annual Meeting of the American Ceramic Society. Columbus: Ohio, 19-34. Wendrich, W. Z. 1999. The world according to basketry: An ethno-archaeological interpretation of basketry production in Egypt. Leiden: CNWS publications.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Haynes, J. 1986. ‘Review’. Journal of the American Oriental Society 106 (3): 576-577.

Wendrich, W. Z. 2000. ‘Basketry’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P; Shaw, I. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 254-267.

Haynes, J; Leprohon, R. 1987. ‘Napatan Shawabtis in the Royal Ontario Museum’. The SSEA Journal 17 (1/2): 1832. Haynes, J; Santini-Ritt, M; Newman, R. 2009. ‘Ushabtis of King Taharqa at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston’. Kmt: A Modern Journal of Ancient Egypt 20 (3): 30-39. Janes, G. 2002. Shabtis. A Private View: Ancient Egyptian Funerary Statuettes in European Private Collections. Paris: Cybele.

157

JAMES GILL

   

                                      Plate 1b PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay).                 Photo by J. Gill.   

Plate 1a PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay).  Photo by J. Gill. 

Plate 2 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay).  Photo by J. Gill. 

       

                                Plate 3 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay).                         Photo by J. Gill. 

Plate 4 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay).  Photo by J. Gill. 

                                               Plate 5 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Oasis Clay?).                  Photo by C. Hope. 

159

Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut el-Kharab

  Plate 6 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Nile Valley Clay).  Photo by J. Gill. 

                                Plate 7 PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Nile Valley Clay).                Photo by J. Gill.   

   Plate 8  PBW from Mut el‐Kharab (Nile Valley Clay).  Photo by J. Gill. 

                    Plate 9 Imported Greek black‐polished sherd,                  Mut el‐Kharab. Photo by J. Gill.   

160

DANIEL JAMES

 

          Plate 1  Digital Reproduction of Winkler Negative M699   Plate 2 Digital Reproduction of Winkler Negative M705  with image numbers added (reproduced courtesy of the with image numbers added (reproduced courtesy of the  Egypt Exploration Society).        Egypt Exploration Society).        

                     Plate 3 Digital Reproduction of Winkler Negative M735          Plate 4   Digital Reproduction of Winkler Negative M804  with image numbers added (reproduced courtesy of the        with image numbers added (reproduced courtesy of the  Egypt Exploration Society).                           Egypt Exploration Society).                                    

   Plate 5 Digital Reproduction of Winkler  Negative M846 with image numbers    added (reproduced courtesy of the   Egypt Exploration Society). 

Plate 6 Digital Reproduction of Winkler Negative M824 with image  numbers added (reproduced courtesy of the Egypt Exploration     Society). 

161