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 IN THE
HOUSE OF
ETERNITY
A Brief History of Ancient Egypt,
Africa’s First Great Civilization

E. L. J. and S. A. Saint-David

EDITIONS ELGIAD

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© 2020 E. L. J. and S. A. Saint-David.
All rights reserved.

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 XICHENG DISTRICT
BEIJING, PRC

10 May, 2020

The book that you hold in your hands is a labor of love, much like others of the studies of
history and culture that I have published over the course of the past fifteen years. The present
work is also the felicitous fruit of a happy collaboration with my talented wife, E. L. J. Saint-
David, who created the vast majority of the photos contained herein, all of which were taken
during our recent trip to the Nile Valley. Each of its chapters has largely been centered around
the work of a single modern scholar of ancient Egypt, every one an expert in her/his particular
field, an approach which has yielded a brief and accurate general view of ancient Egyptian
history as we have come to know it to date.

The earliest roots of this project lie deep in my personal past, and originate in my first
childhood visit to the Niagara Falls Museum and Daredevil Hall of Fame, during a family trip to
Canada in 1969. This museum, now sadly closed, housed a fairly eclectic set of exhibits,
including a two-headed calf and the skeleton of a giant whale, but for me, aged six, the absolute
pinnacle of fascination lay in its extensive and genuinely impressive collection of ancient
Egyptian artifacts, among which were a number of loosely identified and relatively well-
preserved mummies.

My fixation with this collection of ancient Egyptian artifacts led to a second visit to the
museum on the following day, during which I spent a few hours alone in the exhibition hall,
working my way systematically from one corner of the displays to the other. Among the many
component elements of this exhibit was an unidentified mummy, which was later revealed to
be that of the first pharaoh of the 19th dynasty, Rameses I (r. 1295-1294 BC), and which has since

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been returned to his homeland, where it now rests among the other Ramessid royal mummies
in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.

Quite fortuitously, more than thirty years later, and while living and working in Atlanta, GA,
USA, I had a chance to reacquaint myself with this now-celebrated pharaonic mummy, for it
had temporarily come to reside in the Michael C. Carlos Museum of Emory University. While
there, it had been correctly identified and subsequently displayed by a team of experts, led by
the eminent American Egyptologist, Peter Lacovara, at that time the museum’s curator of
ancient Egyptian, Nubian, and Near Eastern art.

As I stood in the exhibit chamber and gazed on the pharaoh once again, this time with the
full knowledge of exactly who he had been, I was transported back in time, both to my early
childhood, and to the age of this founder of the illustrious 19th dynasty, whose mortal remains
lay before me, and whose earthly trajectory had been a truly colorful and peripatetic one, to say
the very least, both during his life, and after his death, c. 1294 BC.

It was in that chamber, too, and in the physical presence of Ramses I, that I resolved to one
day write a work about the history of the Nile Valley culture of which this pharaoh had once
been the socio-cultural and religious apex. That ambition has now been fulfilled with the
creation of the present book, which in the most basic sense is the direct product of a young
boy’s initial childhood encounter with Africa’s first great civilization, that of ancient Egypt.

S. A. Saint-David

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Authors E. L. J. and S. A. Saint-David at Karnak Temple, Luxor, Egypt, in January, 2020.

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CONTENTS

The Naqada Period (ca. 4000-3000 BC) p. 13

Image Spotlight: The Predynastic Age (ca. 4000-3150 BC) p. 20
The Early Dynastic Period (ca. 3150-2686 BC) p. 25
Image Spotlight: The Early Dynastic Period (ca. 3000-2686 BC) p. 29
The Old Kingdom (ca. 2686-2125 BC) p. 36
Image Spotlight: The Old Kingdom (ca. 2686-2125 BC) p. 45
The First Intermediate Period (ca. 2160-2055 BC) p. 52
The Middle Kingdom (ca. 2055-1650 BC) p. 58
Image Spotlight: The Middle Kingdom (ca. 2055-1650 BC) p. 67
The Second Intermediate Period (ca. 1650-1550 BC) p. 70
The Early New Kingdom (ca. 1550-1352 BC) p. 78
Image Spotlight: Queen Hatshepsut (ca. 1473-1458 BC) p. 84
The Amarna Period and Later New Kingdom (ca. 1352-1069 BC) p. 87
Image Spotlight: The Amarna Period (ca. 1353-1336) p. 97
The Role of Egypt in the Ancient World p. 104
Image Spotlight: The Temple of Abu Simbel p. 112
The Third Intermediate Period (ca. 1069-664 BC) p. 118
Image Spotlight: The Third Intermediate Period (ca. 1069-664 BC) p. 125
The Late Period (664-332 BC) p. 130
Image Spotlight: The Temple of Karnak p. 139
The Ptolemaic Period (332-30 BC) p. 145
Image Spotlight: The Temple of Edfu p. 151
The Roman Period (30 BC-395 AD) p. 157
Image Spotlight: The Roman Period (30 BC-395 AD) p. 164
Image Supplement: The Valley of the Kings p. 169
Image Supplement: The Ramesseum p. 177
Image Supplement: The Temple of Medinet Habu p. 183
Image Supplement: The Temple of Esna p. 189
Image Supplement: The Temple of Kom Ombo p. 196
Image Supplement: The Temple of Dendera p. 201
Image Supplement: The Temple of Philae p. 205

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 Our very warmest thanks go to Abbas Sayed for his expert guidance, and for his consummate
historical knowledge, both of which he very kindly shared with us during our first trip to his
truly wonderful homeland.

Additional thanks go to Mao Da, who kept us all together, organized, and on time, and to
Osama Salma, who provided additional photographs to supplement those taken by us during
the course of our Nile Valley excursion.

Special thanks also go to Dr. Kenneth Wood, whose guidance and encouragement throughout
the early stages of the creation of this book served to make a truly daunting task far more
congenial.

Finally, special mention must be made of the excellent exposition, The Land of the Pharaohs: An
Exhibition of Ancient Egypt, sponsored by the Zhejiang Provincial Museum, Hangzhou, PRC,
which was the source of some of the photos contained in this volume.

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 THE
NAQADA
PERIOD
(ca. 4000-3000 BC)

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 It is with the Badarian Period [c. 4400-4000 BC] that the first evidence of agriculture
among the local populations of the ancient Nile Valley arises; these signs point to both a settled
mode of living, and to the formation of durable and semi-permanent habitations used by
successive generations of people in the same area.

However, it is the later Naqada Period [c. 4000-3150 BC], largely considered the next major
phase of the Predynastic Period, after the Badarian Period, that demonstrates the most direct
and tangible link to the emergent polity that was subsequently to become early pharaonic
Egypt. The Naqada Period takes its name from the area in Upper Egypt where Sir Flinders
Petrie discovered a huge cemetery with more than three thousand burials. Because of the
striking differences between these graves and those that were already known in Egypt at the
time, they were at first erroneously attributed to foreign invaders, rather than to the native
population of that section of the Nile Valley. Exposure to these sites, and later excavation of
thousands of similar sites, led Petrie to formulate the first workable chronology of Predynastic
Egypt, effectively establishing him as the “father of Egyptian prehistory.”

Using pottery samples from almost one thousand graves at Hiw and Abadiya, Petrie carefully
devised a scheme of seriation (based on their forms and decoration) that led to the creation of
three groups of sequence dates, wisely leaving space in the chronology for subsequent
discoveries. The earliest group, named Amratian (after the el-Amra site), was also known as
Naqada I, and corresponded to the emergence of black-topped redware, and of vessels with
white decorative motifs on a red body. This group bore the sequence dates SD 30-38. The
second grouping was known as Gerzean (after the el-Gerza site), or Naqada II, and included
pottery with wavy handles, as well as decorations with brown paint on a cream background. It
bore the sequence dates 39-60. Lastly, there was Naqada III, which was the final phase of
predynastic pottery, and which contained features that were to be found in somewhat later
Dynastic earthenware, bearing the sequence dates SD 61-80. The uppermost date, SD 80, was
intended for pieces that were to have been created just prior to the unification of Upper and
Lower Egypt by Narmer/Menes in approximately 3000 BC, while SD 1-29 were reserved for the

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accommodation of earlier phases, and were to be based upon subsequent discoveries.

Although elements of Petrie's system were later to be adjusted and refined by other
archaeologists, his basic scheme remains fundamentally intact; his revised sequences, however,
do not provide any absolute date for the beginnings and ends of each of the Naqada phases.
Only with the advent of dating methods that rely on scientific analysis of chemical and physical
attributes could an absolute chronology be established. Based on scientific testing, therefore, it
has been found that the Naqada I/Amratian culture flourished between 4000 and 3000 BC, the
Naqada II/Gerzean between 3500 and 3200 BC, and the Naqada III/final predynastic culture
between 3200 and 3000 BC. Naqada I sites are all within Upper Egypt; Naqada II sites, however,
show that the culture was spreading out to both the north and to the south, touching the
eastern area of the Delta, as well as the so-called Nubian “A Group” territory in the southern
regions of the upper Nile Valley.

Naqada I

Naqada I/Amratian culture is similar, in a general sense, to the Badarian culture that
preceded it. In fact, given the considerable similarity in elements of the burial findings, it may
simply be an older, local/regional version of Badarian. The simple, oval pit burials were
typically those of individuals, but multiple burials were also fairly common. In what might have
been an early example of the interment of material status symbols, disc-shaped porphyry
maceheads probably indicate the burial of prominent individuals in two recorded instances.
However, Amratian culture specifically differs from the Badarian in terms of the types of grave
goods and their role as signs of status within the population groups, with Hierakonpolis a key
site from the viewpoint of such evident diversity.

Developments in the styles, materials, and depictions on pottery associated with Amratian
culture show a wide variety of diverse animal species, river life, and even boats, as well as
scenes of human figures in action. It is in the latter case that two important types of depiction,

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of hunters, and of victorious warriors, can be clearly delineated and highlighted. The Pushkin
Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow possesses among its collections a Naqada I vessel in which the
hunter holds a bow in his left hand, and also wears an animal tail on his belt; these elements are
strikingly similar to later depictions, such as those found on the Hunter's Palette, and on the
Gebel-el-Arak knife handle. Although fundamentally predynastic in their origins, similar
portrayals of Egyptian kings were to constitute puissant images of pharaonic rulers until the
very end of dynastic history, which resulted from the death of Cleopatra VII (r. 51-31 BC) in the
late 1st century BC.

The victorious warrior is also depicted powerfully in examples of Naqada I vessels, including
on one in the Petrie Museum of University College London, which appears to show a captor
with a defeated captive of indeterminate gender, and which suggests imagery of the conqueror
and the conquered. What is more significant, still, however, is that the early theme of
domination appears to be the forerunner of later scenes of victory during the pharaonic period.
Indeed, the parallel themes of successful hunting and of victory in war are thereby established,
demonstrating the presence of hunter-warriors already invested with a distinct aura of power
and “otherness.” Thus it is clear that imagery and associations considered absolutely central to
the projection of Egyptian pharaonic might, and the invincibility of its divine monarchy,
initially sprang from origins that were firmly anchored in the pivotal predynastic age of Naqada
I/Amratian culture.

Other aspects of Naqada I culture, such as carved ivory figurines of adult males, show them
wearing crude depictions of beards, which were symbols of power, and, in the form of the 'false
beards’ that later adorned the chins of pharaohs and divine beings. Disc-shaped stone
maceheads also constituted an important projection of power, and have been found among the
grave goods of a number of individuals. It was during the Amratian phase of the predynastic era
that the Egyptians' eventual mastery of carving in stone began to develop, which was also
demonstrated at this time by the creation of stone cosmetic palettes in a wide variety of shapes
and styles.

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 Bone and ivory objects have commonly been found in burials, but there seems to have been
a paucity of worked stone tools in Naqada I gravesites. Those which have been found in burials,
however, attest to the high degrees of skill and care expended in their creation, and to the value
placed on them by their owners. Along with metal objects, such as pins, harpoons, beads, and
bracelets, the grave goods of the Naqada I period show a hierarchical and diverse society, in
which major aspects of later pharaonic civilization can already be observed, albeit in a largely
prototypical form. However, while the many Naqada I burial sites uncovered provide ample
evidence for certain key aspects of its society and culture, the poor condition and relative
scarcity of the remains of settlement sites has meant that little is known about its economy.

Naqada II

Naqada II/Gerzean culture was characterized by its rapid expansion out from the Naqada
I/Amratian heartland, both northward and southward, as well as by the appearance of richer
and more developed burials for some individuals. Coffins of wood and air-dried pottery were
featured, as well as the first attempts at a crude form of “mummification,” in which bodies were
wrapped in strips of linen. Furthermore, based on his finding there, the notion of human
sacrifice was put forward by Petrie at Naqada, and this evidence for human immolation might
well constitute evidence for the subsequent mass human sacrifices around the earlier dynastic
royal tombs at Abydos; indeed, this may well have constituted a key moment in the coalescence
of the ideology of so-called “sacred kings” that surrounded the Egyptian monarchy of the
dynastic era.

Two types of pottery, 'rough' and 'marl ware,' make their appearance, with the latter bearing
two types of motifs, geometrical and representational. The most common motif among the
representational types is the boat, and its centrality to the everyday life of the riverside
communities is apparent in the profusion of images of this type that have been found on the
marl ware of the period. Stoneworking also developed further, with the flaked flint knives of

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this period being among the very best examples of such objects ever discovered. Disc-shaped
maceheads disappear at this time, and are replaced by pear-shaped types; indeed, by this time,
the macehead had developed into a magically charged symbol of power. Later, during the
heydays of the pharaonic period, it was typically the weapon held by triumphant kings.
Therefore, with the proliferation of such symbols of power as these stone maceheads during the
Naqada II period, a later signifier of pharaonic dominance can be glimpsed in its initial stages
as a key socio-political symbol.

The working of copper also became more common, and gold and silver, as well, appear to
have been used in individual grave installations during this period. The work of such
metalsmiths gives evidence of an economy that was capable of supporting full-time craftsmen,
and demonstrates that urban centers of culture and commerce sprang up to support the work
of those who were not themselves self-sufficient, agriculturally speaking. The three main
centres of Naqada II/Gerzean culture were all in Upper Egypt, and were established at Naqada,
Hierakonpolis, and Abydos, the latter settlement being where the necropolis of the early
pharaohs of the dynastic period was later to be located.

Northern Cultures

The Maadian culture, which overlapped Naqada I and Naqada II, and sprang up in what is
now a suburb of modern Cairo, was present in a number of other northern sites, and differs
markedly from the cultures that arose in Upper Egypt around el-Amra and el-Gerza. In the case
of the Maadian, the burial sites are far less commonly found, with most evidence for this
culture coming from archaeological finds centered around settlements and dwellings.
At Maadi, excavations have shown dwellings that are hewn from living rock, and which are
very similar to those which have been unearthed at Beersheba in Palestine. Hearths and
domestic debris suggest that these were very much permanent habitations, and the presence of
sherds of black-topped redware indicate commercial contact between the Maadi sites and
earlier Upper Egyptian settlements of the day. Maadian culture might best be veiwed as a kind

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of cultural carrefour, exposed to the cultures of the Western Desert, the Middle East, and the
nascent southern settlements of Naqada. The worked flint of the Maadian culture also suggests
Palestinian influences, and so-called “Caananite blades” found there developed into pharaonic
'razors' that formed a part of royal burials until the end of the Old Kingdom period. Once again,
the roots of key elements of later pharaonic culture can be discerned in these developmental
stages, all of which took place during the cultural rise of this pivotal northern region.

Most notable, perhaps, are the many instances of Maadi contacts with other regions/cultures
via trade, with the widespread use of copper attested at several sites. The replacement of stone
implements by metal ones, similar to a technological progression that took place in Palestine,
thus cannot be considered coincidental. The discovery of large amounts of copper ore from the
southeastern part of the Sinai region shows that commercial contacts outside of the Nile Valley
region were taking place during this period, despite the fact that the Maadian culture seems to
have been a pastoral-agricultural and sedentary one. Donkeys represent likely beasts of burden,
and were doubtless engaged in the transport of goods, with foodstuffs such as wheat and barley
being common, as well.

The burials of the Maadian culture are extremely simple in comparison to those of the
Naqada I and Naqada II peoples, with sparse grave goods (not more than a few pots), and a very
basic foetal position layout of the bodies in question. However, some of the tombs of the
Northern Cultures seem to be better equipped than others, without any discernible luxury, as
was sometimes the case in the south; nevertheless, this does point to a measure of social
stratification, and is an indication of the development of society along more hierarchical lines.
The discovery of a key site at Buto suggests that the end of Maadian culture was not abrupt, but
was rather a gradual process, with socio-cultural assimilation taking place over an extended
period of time. This process seemingly led to an increasingly complex society, one that was
eventually to be defined, as well as rather circumscribed, by its own beliefs and rites. This, in
turn, would lead to next major step in the history of Egypt, which was to occur in the Naqada
III and Early Dynastic eras.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Predynastic Age

(ca. 4000-3150 BC)

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A red-topped blackware vessel

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A clay jar with spiral decoration, lipped mouth, and handle attachments

A pisciform stone palette

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An expertly worked stone arrowhead

A stone mace head

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A large pot with boat motif, lipped mouth, and handle attachments

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 THE
EARLY DYNASTIC
PERIOD

(ca. 3150-2686 BC)

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 The Early Dynastic state emerged in Egypt c. 3000 BC; indeed, by that point, the nascent
Egyptian polity controlled much of the Nile Valley, from the Delta in the north to the first
cataract at Aswan in the south, giving it a territory that stretched over 1,000 km in length. This
fact is quite remarkable in itself, for it demonstrates that the organizational ability of this
ancient state must have been quite advanced, indeed, to have allowed it to extend its hegemony
over such a vast stretch of the ancient river valley, particularly at such a relatively early stage in
the growth of human civilization throughout the neighboring Middle East.

Despite a paucity of solid and widespread evidence to support such notions, it is still widely
believed that the separate polities of Upper and Lower Egypt were eventually unified under the
rule of one sovereign, the semi-mythical southern king Narmer (i.e., ‘striking Catfish’), also
known as Menes (i.e., the ‘Enduring One’) at some point between 3150 and 3050 BC. The
writing of the much later Ptolemaic historian Manetho (fl. ca. 325-275 BC) is supported by the
evidence of the so-called “Narmer Palette,” which was found in 1897 in Hierokonpolis, and
which depicts a southern king conquering what are interpreted to have been Delta people, i.e.,
people of Lower Egypt. This represents what can be loosely termed the “formal” beginning of
what is known generally as the Dynastic Period, which begins with Dynasty 0, comprised of a
slightly earlier (and quite shadowy) king known as “Scorpion,” as well as Narmer himself (ca.
3150-3050 BC); it stretches all the way to the dynasty of the Ptolemaic kings (305-30 BC), which
ended with the death of the renowned queen, Cleopatra VII (r. 51-30 BC), an impressive span of
more than three thousand years.

Most ancient Egyptians in the Early Dynastic Period lived in small villages and supported
themselves and their families through farming. Cereal agriculture, in particular, constituted the
economic foundation of the ancient Egyptian polity. The fact that this agriculturally-based
economy persisted throughout the entirety of the history of pharaonic Egypt highlights its
absolutely pivotal role in the health and prosperity of what was essentially a theocratic state,
from the Old Kingdom (2686-2125 BC) down to the age of Roman domination (c. 30 BC-395
AD).

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 The first of the great burial complexes, the Royal Cemetery at Abydos, shows that the nature
of early Egyptian civilization was manifested via funerary monuments, especially these royal
tombs and enclosures at Abydos, as well as by the large tombs of the high officials in the
necropolis at Saqqara. Equally important, perhaps, was the establishment of a typically
Egyptian style of formal art, which initially emerged in the Naqada III/Dynasty 0 period, as well
as during the Early Dynastic phase. The royal funerary complex in the Umm el-Qa'ab area at
Abydos is the cemetery of the 1st Dynasty kings. It is only at Abydos, legendary resting place of
the god Osiris, that there have been found a handful of large tombs of the kings of this dynasty,
as well as that of one queen. Furthermore, it is only at Abydos that remains of the funerary
enclosures for all but one of the 1st Dynasty kings have been found.

The earliest known example of writing was found in Tomb U-j at Abydos. It is entirely
possible that this example of writing actually predated the unification of the north and south;
by the time of Dynasty 0, however, such a writing system was definitely in use by the scribes
and craftsmen who were functionaries of the Egyptian state. There exist, nevertheless, several
lacunae that are to be confronted when trying to understand how writing developed in the
Early Dynastic period. One aspect of the problem is related to the types of artifacts on which
such writing appears, as well as to their contexts. Most of the examples of such writing are
connected to the funerary cults, rather than records of economic activities from settlements.
Thus, the related difficulty lies in the fact that the early Egyptian administration likely
maintained economic records to help carry out the various stages of its state agenda, but there
is no direct evidence of this, per se.

During the 1991-1992 re-excavation of the tomb of Qa'a, the last king of the 1st Dynasty, which
was undertaken by a German team working at Abydos, seal impressions of the first king of the
2nd Dynasty, Hetepsekhemwy (r. ca. 2890-2885 BC), were uncovered. In terms of a closer
consideration of the general stability and administrative health of the early Egyptian state, this
discovery is potentially quite significant. The German team believed that this constituted

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evidence that Hetepsekhemwy finished the tomb of his predecessor, Qa’a (r. ca. 2910-2890 BC)
and that there was thus no disruption of the dynastic succession.

The benefits that derived from the creation of a god-king culture to the emerging
Egyptian state were manifold and deeply interconnected to each other. “In the early dynasties,”
writes Kathryn Bard, “when the Crown began to exert enormous control over land, resources,
and labour, the ideology of the god-king legitimized such control and became increasingly
powerful as a unifying belief system.” Bard also highlights an important consideration when
assessing the various changes that Egyptian civilization underwent at this time, stating, “That
such transformations were successful in the Early Dynastic Period is truly remarkable, given
that contemporaneous polities elsewhere in the Near East were much smaller in territory and
population.” This speaks to the fact that from a very early point in its development, the nascent
Egyptian state had the resources and the organizational savvy to undertake the unification of its
people, both through a consistently enunciated state ideology, and via centrally focused
national devotional projects, such as the royal burial complexes at Abydos, as well as those at
Saqqara.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT
The
Early Dynastic Period

(ca. 3000-2686 BC)

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A combined view of both sides of the Narmer Palette, showing Narmer as he conquers the Delta
people and becomes the first king of a unified Egypt (ca. 3100 BC)

Constructed much later, the Ramessid temple complex at Abydos

pays homage to the legendary god-king Osiris, lord of the Underworld

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The remains of the so-called Osirion at Abydos, believed by Egyptians to have been the site of the
tomb of Osiris, legendary first of the god-kings of the ancient state

The symbolic ‘tomb’ of Osiris, established during the high Dynastic Period

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 As did the first king, Narmer, a later Ramessid king wears
the white crown (hedjet) of Upper Egypt in this depiction from the temple at Abydos

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One side of the Narmer Palette depicts the king wearing the white crown of Upper Egypt

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 Another depiction of a Ramessid king from Abydos,
this time wearing the red crown (deshret) of Lower Egypt

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 A detail from the Narmer Palette depicts the king wearing the red crown of Lower Egypt, as
well as a bull’s tail attached to his kilt. In his left hand, he carries a mace, in his right hand a crook
and a flail, perennial symbols of the power of Egyptian kings

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 THE
OLD
KINGDOM

(ca. 2686-2125 BC)

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 Although the modern scholarly designation 'Old Kingdom' [c. 2686-2160 BC] constitutes
an artificial and relatively recent construct, the history and culture of the period itself do
present a number of key features that serve to mark it out most distinctly from the preceding
Early Dynastic Period [c. 3200-2686 BC], as well as from the succeeding century of general
instability, known as the First Intermediate Period [c. 2160-2155 BC]. While absolute
chronological certainty with regard to the lengths of the reigns of key rulers (as well as, in some
instances, the establishment of an order of succession) is frequently elusive, the starting date of
the period, commonly given as 2686 BC, is fairly secure, within a margin of error of roughly
twenty-five years. Perhaps what is most remarkable, however, despite the relative chronological
uncertainties that persist throughout the period, is just how much we do know about the
significant political, socio-cultural, and technological advances that were realized during this
pivotal period of Egyptian history, which lasted roughly five-and-a-half centuries, drawing to a
close around the middle of the twenty-second millennium BC.

Jaromir Malek describes the Old Kingdom as an 'uninterrupted period of economic

prosperity and political stability,' which represented a seamless continuation of favorable
conditions already present during the Early Dynastic Period. It was this extended period of
prosperity, coupled with a well-ordered and smoothly-functioning state apparatus, that enabled
Egypt to undertake the signature projects for which the age is most generally remembered, i.e.,
the creation, in and around modern-day Saqqara and Giza, of a series of massive and
technologically brilliant stone tombs/funerary monuments, and their related satellite structures,
known collectively (and commonly) as the 'Great Pyramids.'

Beyond the sheer size and splendor of such structures lies our growing awareness of what
these absolutely stunning architectural feats represent in terms of a manifestation of
superlative effort in every aspect of their construction. According to Malek, following the Early
Dynastic Period, Egypt 'rapidly grew into a centrally organized state ruled by a king believed to
be endowed with qualified supernatural powers.’ Of course, these facts alone cannot account
for the stunning outburst of practical and innovative genius that underpinned the erection of

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the pyramid tombs of the Old Kingdom period, but the supreme efficiency and stability of the
centralized state did help to ensure that conditions most conducive to such gargantuan
manifestations of the human creative, religious, and aesthetic impulses were consistently
present, and that concomitant developments in religious and political thought might be given
full play in their realization.

Despite what seems to have been an attempt to execute a building in stone, undertaken by
either Khaemsekhwy [r. c. 2690 BC] or Nebka [r. c. 2686-2667 BC], the first successfully
completed monumental stone building in the world, the Step Pyramid, goes to the pharaoh
Djoser. Standing within an enclosure at Saqqara, this 'proto-pyramid' represented a significant
advance in the realization of royal funerary architecture, moving from the creation of a single-
level, mud brick superstructure to a new species of multi-level, 'stacked' superstructure built of
stone. Indeed, writes Malek, 'Before Nebka and Djoser, stone had been used only in a limited
way for elements of brick-built tombs,’ but while the materials and technical considerations
involved in its construction were new ones, its general ground plan did not depart from the
traditional form of royal tombs built during the Early Dynastic Period (i.e., from the mastaba
form described above).

A key figure associated with the successful creation of the first large stone building in the
world was a priest of the sun-god, Ra, named Imhotep, who came to occupy a prominent
position in Egyptian lore around learning, study, and intellectual achievement. Tradition
accords to him the role of architect, as well as veritable 'inventor' of the practice of building in
stone, and while he was later deified and came to be associated with the god Ptah (and was
subsequently considered the patron of scribes and medical doctors), he was initially very much
a real person, as has been attested by the discovery of a statue of Djoser that bears his
(Imhotep's) name.

What Imhotep's achievement did help to initiate, at least among Egypt's rulers, was what
Malek terms 'a striving for monumental grandeur appropriate to a royal burial,’ one that lasted

38
throughout the Old Kingdom. It was, however, a striving for grandeur that 'reflected the
prevailing view at the time concerning the position of the king in Egyptian society, Malek avers,
and one which also enunciated in stone the Egyptians' beliefs in the eternality and stability of
their chief institution, that of the kingship itself. Therefore, and despite the undeniably unique
nature of the advances that took place in engineering, construction, and the decorative arts as a
result of the creation of such unprecedented examples of royal funerary architecture as the
pyramids, these latter were themselves directly tied to a crucial springboard, i.e., to the ongoing
development of Egyptian socio-political and religious thought around the very concept of
divine kingship itself. This latter phenomenon, in its turn, with its identifiable roots in the
Naqada culture's apparent preoccupation with the charisma, mystique, and pre-eminence
surrounding successful warrior-hunters, provides a discernible link to the emergence of pre-
dynastic beliefs with regard to leadership and hierarchy, both human and divine.

Succeeding kings, such as Sneferu [r. c. 2613-2589 BC], first ruler of the 4th Dynasty, oversaw
the creation of increasingly splendid and successful pyramid tombs. Sneferu himself was behind
the erection of both the so-called 'Bent Pyramid' at Dahshur, as well as that of the 'Red
Pyramid,' in which he was eventually to be buried. It was under Sneferu's son and successor,
however, that the art and science of building stone pyramids reached its pinnacle. King Khufu
[r. c. 2589-2566 BC] was responsible for the construction of the 'Great Pyramid' at Giza, which is
the largest of its kind in Egypt. Like Djoser, whose architect Imhotep was the vital creative force
behind the Step Pyramid, Khufu relied on Hemiunu, son of his vizier, Prince Nefermaat, to
shoulder the practical burdens associated with successfully raising a gigantic funerary
monument to his royal master. Khafra [r. c. 2558-2532 BC], a son and successor of Khufu, along
with his own son, Menkaura [r. c. 2532-2503 BC], oversaw the building of pyramids of lesser size,
but of comparable complexity and splendor.

The centrality of the cult of the divine king, from its nascent Naqadan roots, to its initial
expansion during the Early Dynastic Period, and from thence to its first full flowering during
the so-called 'age of the pyramid-builders,' cannot be underestimated, for it constituted the

39
veritable bedrock upon which the towering superstructure of the Egyptian state was
painstakingly erected, with the god-king at the very apex of its parallel pyramid of power and
pre-eminence. 'For a modern mind,' writes Egyptologist Jaromir Malek, 'especially one that no
longer knows profound religious experience and deep faith, it is not easy to understand such
huge and seemingly wasteful projects as the building of pyramids.’ Indeed, the divide that
separates our civilization from that of the ancient Egyptians is perhaps nowhere more apparent
than in the great number of alternative/esoteric theories that have been proposed to explain
the origin and purpose of the pyramids that dot the landscapes of Saqqara and Giza. The
Egyptian texts themselves are notably silent on such topics, leaving room for almost endless
speculation on these topics, as well as on the 'true identity' of the 'real builders' of these
monumental and unforgettable structures.

Such an outpouring of ingenuity, effort, and time on such projects can, however, be readily
explained by a closer consideration of the nature and scope of Egyptian religious, social, and
political beliefs with regard to the monarch, and to the related issue of his key role in the
maintenance of safety, harmony, and prosperity for all. 'In ancient Egypt,' avers Malek, 'the king
enjoyed a special position as a mediator between the gods and people, an interface between
divine and human, who was responsible to both.’ Indeed, he writes, '[t]he king had been chosen
and approved by the gods and after his death he retired into their company.’ This, of course,
put him in the most exalted possible company of all, and for the people of ancient Egypt, who
saw all around them during the course of their daily life various concrete manifestations of
royal power and its divinely-ordained supremacy, the psycho-social conditioning must have
been a very profound one, indeed.

In a practical sense, too, the people's acceptance of the king's various key roles played into
their collective need for stability, prosperity, and balance, as the ruler was not only the pillar of
the state, but was also the chief maintainer of the continued harmony, felicity, and cosmic
cooperation of the natural environment. 'For the people of Egypt,' observes Malek, 'their king
was a guarantor of the continued orderly running of their world: the regular change of the

40
seasons, the return of the annual inundation of the Nile, and the predictable movements of the
heavenly bodies, but also safety from the threatening forces of nature as well as enemies
outside Egypt's borders. The king's efficacy in fulfilling these responsibilities was therefore of
paramount importance for the well-being of every Egyptian.’ As subjects from every walk of life
'bought into' the system, so to speak, the need for coercive measures to ensure compliance with
the divinely-ordered scheme was minimal, at most.

Once he had died, however, a king arguably became even more important to the
maintenance of the health and happiness of his subjects than he had been during his lifetime,
for it was only after his death that he would fully join the company of the gods themselves. 'It
was, therefore,' writes Old Kingdom specialist Jaromir Malek, 'in everybody's interests to
safeguard the king's position and status after his death as much as in his lifetime.’ It was the
eternal maintenance of the cosmic status and spiritual health of a rather extensive list of such
god-kings that exerted a huge and concomitant influence on the organization, structure, and
practical mechanisms of the state, and as a result, on the very nature of society itself. 'Egypt
during much of the Old Kingdom,' claims Malek, 'was a centrally planned and administered
state, headed by a king who was the theoretical owner of all its resources and whose powers
were practically absolute.’ In theory, this was seemingly the ideal socio-economic system for
carrying out large-scale monumental building projects, but for his part, the monarch was also
obliged to distribute much of the land and resources that he possessed, simply in order to
compensate the host of government officials and members of the extended royal family who did
his daily bidding in a variety of different domains. This practice, however, had the eventual
long-term and deeply corrosive effect of fundamentally weakening the executive power of the
ruler.

The centrality of the royal funerary cult to Egyptian life meant that the quality of artistic
expression during the Old Kingdom was to steadily become higher, and the lack of foreign
threats to the country as a whole meant that raw materials, such as stone, wood, and precious
metals, could be readily obtained from surrounding regions, without fear of scarcity, or of a

41
stoppage of supply. The realm of intellectual endeavor saw considerable advances, with the
expansion and formalization of a sophisticated and uniform system of writing. 'The
hieroglyphic script,' writes Malek, 'now became a fully developed system employed for
monumental purposes. Its cursive counterpart,' he continues, 'called hieratic by Egyptologists,
was used for writing on papyrus, but finds of such documents dating from before the 5th
Dynasty remain extremely scarce,’ reinforcing the importance of monumental funerary
inscriptions and other related records carved in stone to constitute the basic elements of our
understanding of the period.

The sun god, Ra, achieved a high degree of prominence during the Old Kingdom, especially
with the rise of the 5th Dynasty, which saw the creation of a major temple dedicated to this
deity under its first king, Userkaf [r. c. 2494-2487 BC]. Later Old Kingdom rulers were to erect a
number of solar temples and related shrines, many of which have been uncovered and studied
by archaeologists, and which provide precious insights into the related workings of the
Egyptian state and economy. Malek, in his assessment of the mechanisms of bureaucracy and
control, writes of an important transition in according compensation to civil servants and
bureaucrats that took place during this period. 'Some of the appointments to the priesthood in
sun-temples,' he observes 'were purely nominal and made in order to entitle their holder to
benefits derived from such offices.’ Thus can be seen a rather ingenious species of 'sacred
economy,' one in which the needs of both gods and men were met, while at the same time
associating both individuals and their family lineages with one or another of the many
institutions of the solar cult throughout the kingdom.

With the death of Menkhauhor [r. c. 2412-2414 BC], however, came significant changes in the
monumental building patterns of the Egyptian rulers. Although pyramids were still built, after
the long reign of Djedkara [r. c. 2414-2375 BC], they were smaller, and their attendant shrines
and cult centers were also reduced in size and prominence. The relatively modest monument
of Unas [r. c. 2375-2345 BC] was the first, however, to feature a key innovation, which was the
inclusion of so-called 'Pyramid Texts' inscribed on the walls of its inner chambers. These

42
'magical utterances' were intended to ensure the survival of the deceased king in the afterlife,
and to therefore allow him to continue to advocate for the peace, stability, and prosperity of his
former earthly realm. Most significant for modern scholars, however, is the fact that these texts
constitute the earliest large-form religious texts known from ancient Egypt, describing the
identification of the departed king Unas with the solar deity, Ra, as well as with the
mummiform god of the dead, Osiris. The concept of attending to the needs of the dead in the
afterlife now became widespread in Egyptian society, and was linked to the increased focus
accorded to the concept of imakhau, or 'being provided for,' both in the terrestrial world of the
living, and in the ethereal realm of the dead.

With the coming of the 6th Dynasty, as delineated by the 3rd century BC chronicler-priest,
Manetho, there is evidence of a change of capital (formerly located at White Wall ['Ineb-hedj,'
near modern Cairo]) to an area east of south Saqqara, which came to be known as 'Mennefer
(i.e., Memphis). There were also signs of a shift in public attitudes regarding the role and
sanctity of the king himself. Indeed, a plot against the person of King Pepy I [r. c. 2321-2287 BC]
is mentioned in a biographical account that describes the life of a high court official of the time
named Weni. Nevertheless, and despite the erosion of their economic might and monarchical
charisma, the rulers of the 6th Dynasty still undertook fairly extensive building projects. Indeed,
they were especially active in creating a host of shrines dedicated to various local gods
throughout Egypt, in a rather bold move, one which might otherwise be interpreted as a
fundamentally canny attempt to shore up the potentially wavering loyalties of distant vassals
residing in far-flung provinces.

The enormously long reign of King Pepy II [r. c. 2278-2184 BC] saw the continued decline of
both the practical power and the regal prestige of the monarch, who could by now no longer
fulfill his key role as a provider of bounty and earthly comforts for his closest followers. In the
end, centralized state control basically ceased to function after the death of Pepy II around 2184
BC. Disturbances in the balance of nature, such as low inundation levels of the Nile, also
increased the pressure on the already tottering central state. Pepy's rule was followed by that of

43
an ephemeral queen, Nitiqrit [r. c. 2184-2181 BC], and then by seventeen or so fairly shadowy
monarchs, all in close succession, whose acts are entirely unknown, and who are known to us
today only by name.

Thus ended, after almost a millennium, the continuum of Egyptian kings that had begun
with Narmer/Menes, ca. 3100 BC, had witnessed the astounding efflorescence of the Age of the
Pyramids and its rulers, and had drawn to a close with the procession of ghostly royal figures
who comprise Manetho's 7th and 8th Dynasties. During those ten centuries, however, Egypt had
grown from a largely amorphous collection of small pre-dynastic communities and peoples
scattered throughout the Nile Valley into a fully unified, fully centralized, and fully realized
ancient civilization, the brilliance of whose unique achievements continues to astound both
scholars and laypeople alike.

44
 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Old Kingdom

(ca. 2686-2125 BC)

45
Giza sphinx, with the pyramid of the 4th dynasty king Khafra (r. 2558-2532 BCE)

View from the foot of the pyramid of Khafra

46
 Another view of Khafra’s pyramid

Ceremonial structure near Khafra’s pyramid, Giza

47
Carving of a human figure, from a 6th dynasty tomb (ca. 2450-2150 BCE)

48
Hieroglyphic carving from a 6th dynasty tomb (ca. 2450-2150 BCE)

49
Seated statues of Prince Rahotep, probable son of the 4th dynasty king Snefru (r. 2613-2589 BCE),
and his wife, Princess Nofret, found in their Meidum mastaba tomb

50
A stone tomb carving in the distinctive style of the later Old Kingdom

51
 THE
FIRST
INTERMEDIATE
PERIOD

(ca. 2160-2055 BC)

52
 The problems associated with the First Intermediate Period [c. 2160-2055 BC] stem from the
paucity of evidence that we have with regard to the first part of this era, due to the loss of
elements of key sources. Indeed, these lacunae are the chief reason for our ignorance of basic
facts surrounding this further developmental segment of Egyptian civilization in the general
history of the First Intermediate Period. “There is a dearth of information of immediate
chronological value,” avers Egyptologist Stephan Seidlmayer, “because of the loss of most of the
names of the Herakleopolitans and of all information concerning the lengths of their reigns in
the Turin Canon.” These unfortunate and considerable lacunae are coupled with what is,
hopefully, a more remediable one, as Seidlmayer claims that it is equally due to the
“unsatisfactory state of archaeological research in northern Middle Egypt and the Delta, the
heartlands of the Herakleopolitan kingdom” that we know so little about this crucial polity, at
least at the present time.

The fluid nature of modern thinking with regard to the chronological lineaments of the First
Intermediate Period can be seen clearly in the fact that its upper limit is sometimes raised to
accommodate the inclusion of certain key information surrounding the Old Kingdom, which
declined considerably after the reign of Pepy II (c. 2278-2184 BC), petering out during the 7th
and 8th Dynasties, which included several kings named 'Neferkara' (in possible imitation of
Pepy II), around 2160 BC. “To match this state of affairs,” observes Seidlmayer, “the upper
chronological limit of the First Intermediate Period is sometimes raised to include the three
decades during which the last kings of the Memphite line after Pepy II still held power.” Indeed,
claims Seidlmayer, “[L]arge-scale building may be understood as good evidence” for the fact
that “the core institutions of the state” were still operative. However, he specifies, “The glaring
gap in the monumental record during the First Intermediate Period... suggests that the social
system had become fragmented, both in its political organization and in its cultural patterns.”

The decentralization of power, which was eventually fatal to the Old Kingdom apparatus of
the state, began with the posting of the nomarchs (i.e., regional governors) to residence in the
districts to which they had actually been appointed to oversee. “[A] profound change in the

53
system began to appear in the 5th Dynasty,” writes Stephan Seidlmayer, “and was completely in
place by the end of the 6th.” This was a crucial change in the practical organization of the
executive and oversight functions of the state, as it placed considerable power 'on the ground'
directly into the hands of potential provincial rivals to the centralized polity in Memphis. “From
this period onwards,” continues Seidlmayer, “provincial administrators were appointed for
single nomes and took up permanent residence in their districts. As in other branches of the
administration, members of the same family frequently succeeded each other in office.” The
natural opposition engendered, writes Seidlmayer, “between the centre and the provinces
began to act as a differentiating factor within the formerly homogeneous élite group of officials.”

In the realm of technology, potters' wheels had been introduced into Egyptian workshops
during the 5th Dynasty, but took a while to 'catch on,' as we like to say today. It was only with
the emergence of the First Intermediate Period that people were prepared to discard traditional
methods in favor of more innovative solutions to their day-to-day concerns. Another
commonplace structure during this period was the mastaba tomb. A mastaba tomb is a burial
monument that features a low superstructure, typically of mud-brick (or of stone), with sloping
walls and a flat roof, in the general shape of a bench, the latter of which is commonly known as
a 'mastaba' in Arabic, according to the Encyclopedia Britannica. In the time of the First
Intermediate Period, “mastaba-tombs with niched façades and long, sloping access corridors
leading to subterranean chambers were a distinctive feature of the local styles of funerary
architecture that developed in Upper Egypt. “[I]t seems likely,” avers Seidlmayer, “that these
architectural innovations were deliberately introduced by the local élites in order to express
their own regional identities.”

Seidlmayer also writes concisely of the centrality of the role of the overseers of priests during
the First Intermediate Period, and of their importance to the society at large. “During the Old
Kingdom,” he observes, “provincial districts were usually (though not always) run by a two-
tiered administration.” Thus, “'[O]verseers of priests' of the local cults were important because
of the role played by their temples as nodes in the network of economic administration,”

54
despite the fact that the chief office was still that of the 'great overlord of the nome.'

The character and personality of the great overlord, Ankhtifi, are indeed fascinating, and the
autobiographical material provided by his tomb at el-Moalla affords us some precious insights
into the life and political trajectory of a local magnate during the First Intermediate Period.
“The two key events in Ankhtifi's political career,” writes Seidlmayer, “were his intervention in
order to pacify and reorganize the nome of Edfu, and his military expedition against the Theban
nome, where his opponents, a coalition of the Theban and Koptite nomes, actually refused to
give battle.” Indeed, one can well imagine the lively and colorful taunts that the latter 'no-show'
on the part of the Theban and Koptite troops must have engendered among the warriors on
Ankhtifi's side.

When the governing official of Thebes was followed by a nomarch Intef, this brought
about the adoption of a fairly expansive set of titles by the latter. The succession of Intef as
nomarch brought with it a distinct shift in the nature and range of certain elements of the
titulary usually associated with this sort of official, as his succession not only combined the post
of 'great overlord of the Theban nome' with that of 'overseer of priests,' in a direct echo of the
actions of Ankhtifi, 'great overlord of the nomes of Edfu and Hierakonpolis' (and erstwhile
adversary of the Theban nome), but also saw him append to these usual administrative titles a
few others of more extensive significance, and of considerably broader implications. “In
addition,” observes Seidlmayer, “he claimed the titles of 'the king's confidant at the narrow
gateway of the south [i.e., Elephantine], and 'great overlord of Upper Egypt.'” There is thus
more than a slight hint at Intef's extra-regional ambitions and pretensions, and the invocation
of the king's favor in the first of these additional titles must certainly have been intended to
dispel any notions at court that he actually harbored monarchical ambitions, as well, in
addition to his patently extra-regional ones.

During this period, and increasing number of nobles and officials were interred in what have
come to be known as ‘saff tombs.’ A saff-tomb, according to Seidlmayer, is “a special type of

55
rock tomb developed during the First Intermediate Period, apparently as an adaptation to the
local topography.” “For the smaller tombs of private individuals,” he continues, “a broad court
was sunk into the strata of gravel and marl of the low desert terrace. In the rear face of this
court, a portico with a row of heavy, square pillars formed the façade of the tomb, and this row
of pillars gave rise to the modern designation of the architectural type as a saff-tomb,’’ saff
being Arabic for 'row.’ “A short, narrow corridor in the centre of the façade,” concludes
Seidlmayer, “led to the tomb chapel, which also contained the burial shaft leading down to the
tomb.” This was a design that was ideally suited to the cliff interments that were increasingly
favored by the wealthy and well-connected of the First Intermediate Period, as it helped to
ensure both safety and discretion for these sorts of private burials.

The First Intermediate Period effectively began with the foundation of the
Herakleopolitan Dynasty circa 2160 BC. “According to Manetho,” writes Seidlmayer, “[this]
[d]ynasty was founded by a king called Khety, and this piece of information is confirmed by
contemporary epigraphic evidence that refers to the northern kingdom as the 'house of Khety.
Sadly, however,” he continues, “[w]e remain totally ignorant... either of the social origins of
Khety or the circumstances of his rise to the throne.” Roughly five decades later, however, when
Wahankh Intef II (r. 2112-2063 BC) attacked the Thinnite nome, and pushed northwards, what
had been a tense regional power standoff quickly morphed into a national contest of some
importance.

“Matters probably reached a head,” observes Seidlmayer, “when Wahankh Intef II attacked
the Thinnite nome... finding his advance eventually checked by the Asyut nomarchs.” The
Herakleopolitans seem to have counter-attacked, according to a tomb inscription of Ity-yeb (an
overseer of priests at Asyut), but, according to Seidlmayer, “this Herakleopolitan military
success had no lasting effect on the outcome... but there can hardly be any doubt that Asyut
was taken by force.” No information as to the fate of the last Herakleopolitan king is readily
discernible, but according to Seidlmayer, evidence at the cemetery of Ihnasya-el-Medina
“show[s] that its funerary monuments were literally hacked to pieces at some point in the

56
Middle Kingdom.” “It seems tempting,” he continues, “to construe this archaeological
observation as evidence for the eventual sacking and pillaging of Egypt's northern capital,” but
such a broad assumption still remains, at best, highly speculative in nature.

57
 THE
MIDDLE
KINGDOM

(ca. 2055-1650 BC)

58
 The history of the Middle Kingdom [c. 2055-1650 BC] period of pharaonic Egyptian history
represented a clear and distinct break from patterns of organization and governance that were
in place during the First Intermediate Period (c. 2160-2055 BC), in that it formed a cohesive
social unity, and in the additional fact that its core periods were comprised of a pair of political
phases: the 11th Dynasty ruling from the city of Thebes in Upper Egypt, and the 12th Dynasty
ruling from the area around Lisht in the Faiyum. Additionally, although it was for many years
thought that the 11th and 12th Dynasties comprised the entirety of the Middle Kingdom proper, it
is now believed that at least the first half of the so-called 13th Dynasty actually belongs very
clearly to the Middle Kingdom period.

Among the challenges that face anyone who wishes to fully understand the social, political,
and historical trajectories of the Middle Kingdom are the issues of the so-called 'co-regencies' of
certain of the 12th Dynasty monarchs. Nevertheless, according to Egyptologist Gae Callender,
'Since there are no “absolute dates” yet established in Egyptian history... until the late New
Kingdom at the earliest... there is room for revision in the chronologies of all pharaonic periods.’
Thus, although certain chronological details and subtleties of kingly succession may at present
remain somewhat elusive, a general understanding of the history, culture, and socio-political
trends of the Middle Kingdom period can be achieved through the careful scrutiny of the
various fields of evidence that are now available to us.

The first of the 11th Dynasty pharaohs to rule over the entirety of Upper and Lower Egypt was
Mentuhotep II (2055-2004 BC), who in all likelihood succeeded Intef III (2063-2055 BC) in the
kingship of Thebes. Like Narmer (c. 3100 BC), the ruler who initially united both halves of the
country late in the 4th millennium BC, Mentuhotep II was viewed as a hero by subsequent
generations, and, according to Callender, 'as late as the 20th Dynasty there were numerous
private tombs containing inscriptions celebrating his role as founder of the Middle Kingdom.’
There are, however, questions about this ruler's lineage, as he seems to have underscored his
royal legitimacy in a fashion that has made some modern scholars question whether or not 'he
doth protest too much' in this regard. Nevertheless, there can be no question whatsoever about

59
the absolutely fundamental role played by Mentuhotep II in reuniting and stabilizing what had
previously been a fractured and fundamentally dysfunctional polity.

After apparently reigning over the Theban kingdom for about fourteen years, Mentuhotep II
struck out against the Herakleopolitan kingdom in what was ultimately to be a highly
successful campaign of conquest and reunification. The death of his opponent, Merykara,
basically sealed the fate of the latter's erstwhile kingdom, as it seems that his successor only
managed to hold on to power for a few months after the demise of Merykara. Following his
eventual triumph on the battlefield, Mentuhotep II began to construct an ideological
foundation for his reign over the recently reunited kingdoms. 'Part of Mentuhotep's strategy to
enhance his reputation with his contemporaries and successors,' writes Callender, 'was a
programme of self-deification.’ Indeed, according to Callender, 'Mentuhotep's self-promotion
was accompanied by a change of name as well as this process of self-deification’; from this,
claims Callender, we can deduce that ‘he was reasserting the cult of the leader,’ at least in the
domain of official nomenclature, and clearly for purposes of boosting his public image.

In addition to the reduction of the number of nomarchs, which aimed to restore the nexus of
power to the newly-centralized pharaonic state, and alongside a regular program of military
campaigns, Mentuhotep II also pursued a vigorous building program throughout his reign,
with all of the foregoing undertakings designed to erect a new reality of monarchical control in
a re-established and genuinely renascent Egypt. This ‘Middle Kingdom Renaissance,’ as it has
been called by some scholars, was symbolized in stone by his mortuary monument at Deir el-
Bahri. 'This inspiring symbol of the reunification of Egypt,' observes Callender, 'epitomized a
new beginning. It was,' she continues, 'the first royal structure overtly to stress Osirian beliefs-a
reflection of the religious “levelling” between the funerary cults of kings and commoners that
had taken place in the First Intermediate Period. The layout and contents of the complex serve
to make it, even today, the most important example of building that took place between the
end of the Old Kingdom and the start of the 12th Dynasty.

60
 Mentuhotep II was succeeded by his son, Mentuhotep III (c. 2004-1992 BC), whose relatively
brief reign saw not only the continuation of the artistic achievements that had been begun
during his father's long reign, but also the first trade expedition sent by a Middle Kingdom
pharaoh to the Land of Punt. After the death of Mentuhotep III around 1992 BC, he seems to
have been succeeded by a ruler named Mentuhotep IV (c. 1992-1985 BC), but the latter is
missing from the king-lists, and may therefore have been a usurper. The ruler who was to
follow him, however, is anything but anonymous, as he was the founder of the 12th Dynasty,
Amenemhat I (c. 1985-1956 BC). 'One of Amenemhat's most significant moves,' writes Callender,
'was to transfer Egypt's capital from Thebes to the new town of Amenemhat-itj-tawy
(“Amenemhat the seizer of the Two Lands”)... a still-undiscovered site in the Faiyum region,
probably near the Lisht necropolis.’.

The initiation of a new era, and of a new dynasty, was thus marked by the choice of a new
location for the seat of royal power and centralized authority. 'The site of Itjtawy,' claims
Callender, 'may have been chosen because it was closer to the source of Asiatic incursions than
Thebes had been, but it was also politically wise for Amenemhat to found a new capital, thus
signalling a new beginning.’ Indeed, she claims, ‘This period of Wehemmesu, or ''rebirth'' was
not merely a symbolic one... [for]the 12th Dynasty looked back to the Old Kingdom for its
models... and also promoted the cult of the ruler,’ with the king ever-careful of maintaining
what was seen to be his direct lineal connection to the greatness of Egypt’s deeper past.

Senusret I (c. 1956-1911 BC), who succeeded his father after what was likely his murder in
around 1956 BC, was campaigning in Libya when word was brought to him of the death of his
royal predecessor. This episode is recorded most memorably in the Story of Sinuhe, and serves
as the catalyst of this great tale of regeneration, rediscovery, and return, one that is perhaps the
greatest single piece of imaginative literature in all of Egyptian cultural history. For his part,
Senusret I himself continued his father's military successes in Nubia, setting up a fortress there,
and thus ensuring a continuation of the supplies of gold, amethyst, turquoise, copper, and
gneiss upon which the various luxury industries of Egypt had come to depend.

61
 Equally significant, however, was Senusret I's establishment of a policy of monument
building that would come to shape local beliefs and practices throughout the major religious
centers of the country. 'Senusret,' avers Gae Callender, 'was the first to introduce a construction
programme whereby monuments were set up in each of the main cult sites of the land...’ ‘This
move,' she continues,'which was an extension of the policy of later Old Kingdom pharaohs, had
the effect of undermining the power bases of local temples and priests.’ Thus can be seen a
direct socio-political link between the policies of such 11th Dynasty rulers as Mentuhotep II, who
strove to drastically reduce the power of the nomarchs and local rulers, and a similar species of
impulse governing the choice of a 12th Dynasty ruler several generations later. In addition,
'[b]ecause of the attention Senusret paid to the cult of Osiris,’ claims Callender, ‘there was a
great flowering of Osirian beliefs and practices in Egypt, as well as a more significant levelling
between the king's belief in the afterlife and the beliefs of his subjects.’ Such an outcome has
most notably been called the 'democratization of the afterlife' by prominent Egyptologist John
Wilson.

The reign of the successor of Senusret I, Amenemhat II (c. 1911-1877 BC), witnessed the
continuation of trade with various individual Levantine cities, as well as 'Asiatic wars'
mentioned several centuries later by the Greek historian Herodotus (c. 484-425 BC); thus,
although trade did carry on, it seems not to have done so without occasional martial
complications. 'Unlike so many of the 12th Dynasty rulers,' writes Callender, 'Amenemhat II does
not appear to have had a prolific building record,’, although later plundering may account for
the relative poverty of his monumental record. It was during the short reign of his successor,
Senusret II (1877-1870 BC), that the inauguration of the Faiyum irrigation system occurred,
bringing much-needed irrigation and land reclamation to the area. 'The use of various sites in
the Faiyum for royal pyramid complexes from this time onward,' avers Callender, 'perhaps
indicates the importance of the irrigation scheme, since it is usually assumed that the royal
palaces of each ruler would have been built close to their funerary monuments.’ This short
reign, however, turned out to be a mere prelude to that of the Middle Kingdom's most well-
known, and perhaps most significant ruler, Senusret III (c. 1870-1831 BC).

62
 'Senusret is perhaps the most “visible” monarch of the Middle Kingdom,' writes Callender.
'[H]is exploits gathered renown over time and substantially contributed to the character of
“Sesotris” (a kind of composite heroic Middle Kingdom ruler) described by Manetho and
Herodotus.’ His campaigns in Nubia, as well as his fort-building activities in that region, have
helped to establish his reign as one that centered firmly around military undertakings, although
the latter were not always entirely successful. 'Senusret also took a different direction in his
political reforms,' observes Callender. 'Although he has often been credited with the
dismantling of the system of nomarchs, there is no real evidence to support this assertion.
Nevertheless, his attempts to pull Egypt back into a more centralized form of government
resulted in significant political and social readjustment..., and his reign is quite rightly regarded
as a crucial watershed in Middle Kingdom history.’ It seems, therefore, that Senusret's surviving
monumental record, which is considerable, due to his penchant for broadcasting his image
throughout the country in the form of larger-than-life portrait statues, is somewhat matched by
his record in the domain of governance, which saw a concomitant effort to strengthen and
centralize pharaonic power and oversight.

The cultural climax of the Middle Kingdom period, however, was to come with the reign of
Senusret III's son and successor, Amenemhat III (c. 1831-1786 BC). It was in this period that
achievements in the realms of portrait sculpture, temple-building, and funerary architecture
were to reach their zenith, and his final resting place, the pyramid at Hawara, was known as the
Labyrinth, due to its myriad chambers and countless corridors. Although it was described by a
number of classical authors, it is now in such a ruined state that no coherent plan is discernible
from what remains of it today.

The successor of Amenemhat III, Amenemhat IV (1786-1777 BC), reigned for under a decade,
and was likely married to his sister, Queen Sobekneferu (1777-1773 BC). It is she who is best
remembered, however, for she appears to have ruled in her own right, albeit briefly, and a
number of statues of her have been found in which she bears the attributes and accoutrements
of a queen regnant. Her image as a ruling queen may well have provided inspiration for a later

63
female ruler who was to do just that herself, the 18th Dynasty pharaoh Hatshepsut (1473-1458
BC).

Egyptologist Gae Callender writes intriguingly of the contradictions inherent in the role of a
female sovereign in the late Middle Kingdom period, who is called upon to exercise authority, a
traditionally male activity in the society of ancient Egypt. 'There is an interesting, but damaged
statue of the queen of unknown origin,' she observes, '[and] the costume on this figure is
unique in its combination of elements from male and female dress, echoing her occasional use
of male titles in her records.’ Indeed, one can easily make the assumption, as Callender does,
that '[t]his ambiguity might have been a deliberate attempt to mollify the critics of a female
ruler.’ Despite the prestige and mystique naturally associated with royal family members of this
era, male and female alike, it is easy to see how the apparatus of the state would not willingly
accept the intrusion of a female power center into its once exclusively male context.

The short reign of Queen Sobekneferu, which lasted fewer than four years, was followed by
the emergence of a new dynasty, the 13th. This new 'dynasty,' however, seems to have been
rather heterogeneous, both in its origins, and in its manner of ordering the royal succession to
the throne. According to Callender, Egyptologist Stephen Quirke has proposed the notion of a
“circulating succession” among the chief families of the kingdom (somewhat like the succession
of the modern Malaysian monarchs today), a scheme that would also account for what appears
to have been the relatively brief regnal periods of each of the early rulers of the 13th Dynasty.
'Although many 13th Dynasty names have been recorded in the Turin Canon,' writes Callender,
'we know little about the individual rulers,’ a state of affairs quite reminiscent of a similar
situation at the end of the Old Kingdom.

The basic rhythms and affairs of daily life seem, however, to have largely continued
unimpeded, and '[a]fter this brief, unsettled period, a series of less ephemeral kings emerged, '
writes Callender, 'including... Sobekhotep II, to whose reign is dated a most interesting papyrus
[Papyrus Bulaq 18] revealing details of Theban court life for a period of twelve days.’ Four reigns

64
later, around 1744 BC, Sobekhotep III ascended to the throne, and for a while, it seemed like the
glory days of the Egyptian monarchy were to experience a brilliant comeback.

'Sobekhotep III's successor … Neferhotep I (c. 1740-1729 BC),' observes Callender, 'was also
evidently of non-royal stock, but he too left many monumental records, suggesting that his
reign was a vigorous one.’ He was not, however, in control of all of Egypt, as local rulers seem to
have arisen at Xois and Avaris in the Delta area. Two brothers of Sobekhotep III, Sahathor and
Sobekhotep IV, were eventually to succeed him on the throne. The latter of the brothers,
Sobekhotep IV, based on the surviving evidence available, was apparently a strong ruler, and he
seems even to have exerted some control over Nubia, although it was here that a later rebellion
was to emerge, one that would give rise to a native dynasty of Nubian kings who held the
throne at Kerma. The little-known king, Ay, however, was to be the last of the 13th Dynasty
rulers, and according to Callender, Egypt 'broke[] up into those spheres of interest that formed
the basis for government in the Second Intermediate Period,’ thus setting the stage for another
of the kingdom’s transitional phases.

The Middle Kingdom Period, which lasted roughly four centuries, saw a return to the
centralization of power that had typified the pharaonic state in its Old Kingdom heyday, as well
as the reduction of the sway of local rulers in favor of greater executive agency in the hands of
the bureaucrats and functionaries who comprised the royal administration in Itjtawy. However,
'[o]ne of the noticeable characteristics of the Middle Kingdom,' claims Callender, 'was a refining
of official titles into more specific offices and duties.’ Indeed, notes Callender, 'there was a
marked change, too, in bringing the provinces into line with the styles and practices of the
capital,’ a trend that most probably was designed to reinforce the centralization of royal control
that had become somewhat eroded during the First Intermediate Period and the early decades
of the Middle Kingdom era.

Foreign trade was continued, and even expanded by such monarchs as Mentuhotep III and
Senusret I, who according to Callender 'maintained trading links with the African region of

65
Punt.’ The most important developments in Middle Kingdom religion,' she avers, 'concerned
the cult of Osiris, who had by then become the Great God of all necropolises.’ This growth in
influence can also be attributed to the focus on the site of Abydos, and on the 'mysteries of
Osiris' that were popularized at this time. 'Another religious development of the Middle
Kingdom,' according to Callender, 'was the idea that all people (not just the king) had a ba, or
spiritual force.’ Additionally, the emphasis on personal piety that is evident in numerous stelae
of the period was, in the fullness of time, to lead to the birth of the so-called 'negative
confessions,' misdemeanors that the departed claimed not to have committed during the
course of his/her earthly life.

Mummification became far more widespread during the Middle Kingdom, but it was still
fairly poorly done, and therefore, largely ineffective. However, the aesthetic and practical
considerations of providing for the deceased in the afterlife meant that beautifully painted
cartonnage masks and highly decorated coffins became fairly commonplace grave goods. Most
significant, however, was the introduction of 'shabti' (literally, ‘answerer’) figurines, which
were designated magical substitutes that were meant to carry out menial physical labor, when
such had to be done by a tomb’s owner in the afterlife.

In the realms of artistic, practical, and intellectual endeavors, '[t]he Middle Kingdom was a
time when art, architecture, and religion reached new heights,' claims Callender, 'but, above all,
it was an age of confidence in writing, no doubt encouraged by the growth of the “middle class”
and the scribal sector of society, which was in turn due in no small measure to the expansion of
the bureaucracy under Senusret III.’ However, perhaps the most significant advance evidenced
by the civilization of the Middle Kingdom period was the emergence of the average individual
as a discernible and 'knowable' component of what had been, at least during the Old Kingdom,
a theocratic state with a quasi-divine god-king and his courtiers at its institutional and religious
apex, with the vast majority of Egyptians being viewed merely as a simple, amorphous mass of
the insignificant, the unthinking, and the unremarkable.

66
 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Middle Kingdom

(ca. 2055-1650 BCE)

67
Statue of king Senusret III (r. 1878-1841 BCE),
from the Egyptian Museum, Cairo

68
Fragment of a statue of king Amenemhet III (r. 1842-1797 BCE), dressed as a setem-priest, with
regalia of heavy wig, necklace, and leopard skin cloak

69
 THE
SECOND
INTERMEDIATE
PERIOD

(ca. 1650-1550 BC)

70
 Although it comprised only a single century in the broader trajectory of ancient Egyptian
civilization, the Second Intermediate Period (c. 1650-1550 BC) represents a pivotal juncture in
the kingdom's history, for it was to witness the incursion and implantation of foreign ruling
powers, who held sway from their capital in the eastern Delta region, and who were pitted
against the native kings of Thebes in Upper Egypt. However, despite the myriad instabilities
and disruptions engendered by this period of fragmentation and weakness on the part of the
traditional and centralized powers of the pharaonic state, the notion of a fully united Egyptian
kingdom was to survive such serious challenges, and was to re-emerge in what was perhaps its
most truly splendid manifestation in the mid-sixteenth century BC. With the conquest of the
Hyksos' capital, Avaris, by the Theban king Ahmose (c. 1532-1528 BC), which marked the end of
the Second Intermediate Period, the stage was set for the more than four centuries of Egypt's
most remarkable era of prosperity and expansion, the New Kingdom (c. 1550-1069 BC).

According to contemporary Egyptologist Janine Bourriau, the very start of the Second
Intermediate Period 'is marked by the abandonment of the Residence at Lisht... and the
establishment of the royal court and seat of government at Thebes, the Southern City.’ The last
ruler to carry out functions from Lisht was probably Ay (c. 1695-1685 BC), the last king of
Manetho's 13th Dynasty, whose reign is attested in both Upper and Lower Egypt. What followed
the abandonment of Lisht, however, was a century of tremendously confusing and
heterogeneous events and developments, the realities of which differ greatly, depending on
which part of Egypt one is attempting to describe at any given juncture. Bourriau, therefore,
feels that it is best to 'describe it [the history of the period] from the vantage point of each of
the principal regions of Egypt, from north to south.’ Indeed, ‘given the gaps in the evidence,'
she continues, 'it is likely that the country was even more fragmented than we currently think.’
Furthermore, she avers that, 'It is only after the beginning of the war between the Hyksos and
Theban kings, eventually involving the whole of Egypt, that a single historical narrative seems
appropriate.’ Piecing together at least a reasonable approximation of what took place during the
difficult and protracted Hyksos occupation of Lower Egypt has therefore proved to be a
substantial challenge to modern archaeologists and scholars, who are forced to work with the

71
results of what Bourriau terms 'poor survival or patchy excavation.’

The central issue of the Second Intermediate Period revolves around the nature and identity
of the Hyksos; as there remain no written sources from the Hyksos side, however, researchers
must rely on the results of the systematic excavation of their capital at Avaris. This gives rise to
a related problem, for, as Bourriau states clearly, 'We now know what their palaces, temples,
houses, and graves looked like, and we can observe how their culture evolved through time, but
the Hyksos were not a single or simple phenomenon.’ Therefore, as more evidence comes to
light regarding the nature and origins of this shadowy group, the former, fairly homogeneous
portrait of these people begins to take on characteristics that somewhat complicate what had
once been a relatively ‘cookie-cutter’ vision of this pivotal ancient people.

The word Aamu was used by the Egyptians to denote the people of Avaris, and this word is
most usually translated by modern scholars as 'Asiatics,' i.e. 'people of Western Asia.' The word
'Hyksos' is derived from the Egyptian epithet for the sovereigns of such peoples, hekau khasut,
which meant 'rulers of foreign (i.e., “mountainous”) countries.' As it held no inherently negative
meaning, and despite the fact that it indicated a lower status than that which was enjoyed by
Egyptian rulers, even the Hyksos kings used such a designation to describe themselves.

The names of these Asiatics, in cases where their etymology can be determined, are all
derived from West Semitic languages. Although initially thought to be economic immigrants, it
is now believed by scholars that the first of these incoming people, numbering some 1,554 souls,
were actually captured during a campaign of the 12th Dynasty ruler Amenemhat II on the
Lebanese coast. In addition, observes Bourriau, 'There is evidence from Tell el-Dab'a that a
community of Asiatics, albeit very Egyptianized, existed there as early as the 13th Dynasty...
There are also references in contemporary texts to “camps of Asiatic workmen.”' What is most
intriguing, perhaps, is the nature of the development of the culture of the Tell el-Dab'a people.
'The culture of the people of Tell el-Dab'a,' she avers, 'is not static but rapidly develops new
traits and discards old ones,’ showing that this was not only quite a new community, but also a

72
genuinely dynamic and responsive one.

It is only after archaeological evidence of an epidemic, and its attendant aftermath, however,
that the true identity of the Tell el-Dab'a settlement reveals itself. 'At this point in the city's
history,' claims Bourriau, 'its identifcation with the textually attested Hyksos capital of Avaris
becomes clear.’ A key inscription names the region's overlord as 'the good god, lord of the two
lands, son of Ra of his body, Nehesy,’ a ruler who is listed in the Turin Canon's enumeration of
14th Dynasty kings. Probably an Egyptian or a Nubian, Nehesy was a high military official who
controlled the region, at first in the name of the king at Itjtawy, and eventually in his own name
as sovereign of the city-state. 'After Sobekhotep's reign [c. 1725 BC],' writes Bourriau, 'it is likely
that the unity of Egypt began to break up, and an obvious candidate for elevation into an
independent kingdom was the rich and powerful city of Avaris.’ Such a fragmentation would
naturally have been expedited by the carving up of the chief urban centers of the region into
petty principalities and minor local kingdoms by local strongmen such as Nehesy; indeed, this
seems quite redolent of similar sorts of 'power grabs' that had taken place at the end of the Old
Kingdom (2686-2125 BC), as well as during the First Intermediate Period (2125-2055 BC), several
centuries before.

In the reconstruction of the Turin Canon of royal names by Ryholt, there are 32 names, 17
missing names and two major lacunae. For the vast majority of these kings, the duration of
their reigns is unknown, or is listed as having been less than one year, thus creating a
considerable level of confusion, as well as giving rise to doubts about whether or not they
actually reigned as sovereigns during this period. However, a key piece of evidence that points
to the truth of their existence as functioning rulers is a stela of King Merdjedefra. 'The stela of
Merdjedefra,' observes Bourriau, 'has significance beyond confirming the existence of a minor
king, because it confirms that the names of the 14th Dynasty kings are not fictitious, although
they are unlikely to represent a single line of kings ruling one after the other from the same
place.’ Furthermore, there is a group of 15 royal names that occurs exclusively on scarabs, but
whose holders have not been attested in any king list of that era. What is perhaps more

73
astounding still, however, is the fact that '[o]ver 105 royal names are preserved from the period,
and most of these occur in the Turin Canon,’ observes Callender, a pair of facts which serves to
illustrate just how truly fractured and chaotic the patterns of rule were during this turbulent
epoch of Egyptian history.

Bourriau writes succinctly of the nature of the Asiatic sovereigns of the Second Intermediate
Period: 'As a cultural phenomenon, the Hyksos have been described as “peculiarly Egyptian.”' In
addition, and although the kings of Avaris certainly did not ever rule all of Egypt, due to the
control exercised by the Theban kings of Upper Egypt, they were nevertheless able to maintain
relations as sovereigns with a number of regions, both in the Mediterranean, and in the Levant.
'The wealth of Avaris,' Bourriau claims, 'derived from trade not only with Palestine and the
Levant, but also, in its latest phase, especially with Cyprus.’ Thus, although the southern limits
of the Hyksos kingdom were marked by a specific border point at Cusae, somewhat below
Hermopolis, its northern and eastern reaches, via both land and sea, ensured its survival as a
viable trading polity in the broader scheme of state-to-state relations in the ancient Middle East
and Mediterranean regions.

The Jewish historian and statesman, Josephus (who, in this instance, claims to quote
Manetho), speaks of the subjugation and occupation of Egypt by Hyksos forces. 'By main force,'
he writes, 'they easily seized it [Egypt] without striking a blow; and having overpowered the
rulers of the land, they then burned our cities ruthlessly, [and] razed to the ground the temples
of the gods.’ Of the Hyksos ruler of the Nile Delta/Lower Egypt regions, Josephus observes, 'He
had his seat at Memphis, levying tribute from Upper and Lower Egypt, and always leaving
garrisons behind in the most advantageous positions.’ Thus it is that the Hyksos were obliged
to move the central seat of their newly-conquered Egyptian territories further south, in an
effort to hold sway more directly over the region, eventually establishing a boundary point at
the aforementioned city of Cusae, south of Hermopolis, for purposes of trade, immigration, and
taxation.

74
 The scission between Hyksos Lower Egypt and Theban Upper Egypt, as represented by the
abandonment of the royal residence at Itjtawy, resulted in the loss of both creative and cultural
traditions to those southern communities that were located in the reduced realm of the native
Egyptian sovereigns. 'One result of the loss of this artistic tradition,' writes Bourriau, 'was a
break in what has been described as the “hieroglyphic tradition.” The writing of the formulas
used in funerary inscriptions changed because they were being produced under the influence of
scribes trained in the cursive hieratic script (used in administrative documents), whereas
previously the inscriptions had been created by the scribes who were specifically trained in the
carving of hieroglyphic inscriptions on stone monuments.’ This loss of cultural cohesion,
although of relatively brief duration, clearly had important ramifications for those who wished
to be buried in the traditional fashion, and with the traditional formulas as handed down across
the generations.

Another important economic lifeline of the Avaris monarchs, despite the presence of a
hostile indigenous kingdom south of Cusae, was a trade and communication route through the
Western Desert, which they used to maintain relations with the kings of Nubia at Kerma, and
to obtain gold from such sites as Tumas. 'Despite the boundary at Cusae,' writes Bourriau,
'regular contact and exchange of goods continued between lower Egypt and Nubia, via the oasis
route.’ Therefore, although the territory of the Theban kings dominated the vast reaches of the
Nile from Cusae to the edge of Nubia, the Hyksos kings were still able to obtain key
commodities like gold, and to treat with the Nubian sovereigns, via this somewhat circuitous
but still viable path through the adjacent desert wastelands.

Despite the 'side door' enjoyed by the Hyksos kings south of Cusae, the dominant power in
Upper Egypt remained the native sovereigns, but they may not all have ruled from Thebes itself.
'We cannot be certain that they all ruled from Thebes, ' writes Bourriau, 'and some may have
been local rulers in important towns such as Abydos, Elkab, and Edfu.’ Like the Hyksos kings,
however, the Theban kings, at least until the time of the warrior-king Seqenenre II Tao (c. 1560
BC), remain fairly shadowy figures for us today, due to the dearth of archaeological and textual

75
evidence that has survived from this turbulent age of Egyptian history. Nevertheless, 'Rahotep,
first king of the 17th Dynasty,' observes Bourriau, 'boasts of restorations in temples at Abydos
and Koptos,’ for during his time, 'confidence was growing and both the territory and the
activities of the king were expanding' (ibid.). This expansion of territory was to be an increasing
concern of the Theban monarchs throughout the 17th Dynasty, and such an impulse was to
culminate in the eventual expulsion of the Hyksos kings, ca. 1532-1528 BC, during the reign of
Ahmose.

Further south, in Lower Nubia, lay quarries, principally of diorite, granite, and amethyst,
among the very commodities that the Hyksos kings were sending emissaries through the
Western Desert to obtain. The fortress cities in this area, however, were controlled by the
native Egyptian rulers, although, according to Bourriau, 'during the nadir of the power of the
Theban kings, it is possible that Elephantine was ruled independently and even that Nubians
raided the city from time to time.’ These garrison towns were obliged, due to the remoteness of
their location, and to the sparseness of their populations, to form alliances with local Kushite
overlords. '[T]hey had to accommodate themselves,' avers Bourriau, 'to the local military power,
which was neither the Hyksos nor the Kings of Thebes, but the King of Kush.’ This meant that
local Egyptian power brokers not only had to remain friendly with Nubia's kings, but also to
enter into local military campaigns on their behalf. There is even evidence of taxes having been
paid to the King of Kush to enable goods to move between Thebes and the frontier forts held by
the forces of the Theban kings.

The Kings of Kush, as distinct from leaders of other Nubian groups, such as the so-called 'C
group,' and the pan-grave culture peoples, held sway from the historic city of Kerma, south of
the third cataract of the Upper Nile. ' The king was at his most powerful,' writes Bourriau,
'during the Classic Kerma phase, which corresponds roughly to the Second Intermediate
Period.’ Therefore, not only were the native Theban rulers of Upper Egypt facing the hostile
Hyksos polity in Lower Egypt during this period, but they were also bordered on the south by
the equally hostile, and perhaps even more powerful Kings of Kush. When outright war finally

76
erupted between Thebes and Avaris in the mid-16th century BC, the Theban monarchs were
thus obliged to fight on two fronts, which serves to make their victory all the more remarkable.

Regarding the protracted war that broke out, Bourriau says, 'The first known engagement
occurred during the reign of Seqenenra Taa [fl. c. 1560 BC].’ Supposedly, based on a papyrus
written during the 19th Dynasty, the quarrel between Seqenenra and Apepi [fl.c. 1555 BC], the
Hyksos king, began with a complaint from Apepi that the noise of the hippopotami of Thebes
was keeping him from his sleep at night. Whatever the real reason for the fight, it was evidently
brutal, and ultimately fatal for Seqenenra himself, whose mummy was discovered in a cache of
royal remains during the 19th century. 'The examination of the mummy of Seqenenra,' writes
Bourriau, 'shows that he died by violence... This is the most telling evidence so far that a major
battle against the Hyksos took place in Seqenenra's reign – one in which the king himself was
brutally slaughtered,’ making him perhaps the earliest known royal martyr in Egypt’s struggle
to overcome foreign domination on her road to eventual reunification.

It would take two more Theban rulers, however, the kings Kamose (1555-1550 BC) and
Ahmose (1550-1525 BC), to finally defeat the Hyksos, and to expel them from Egypt. Kamose was
to drive all the way from Thebes into Hyksos- controlled territory, reaching the very walls of
Avaris itself, but was not able to attack, as the Hyksos refused to engage his forces. Eleven years
were to elapse before another Theban expedition made its way north, this time under Ahmose
(as Kamose had died in the interim), and this time it succeeded in taking Avaris. 'The sack of
Avaris,' avers Bourriau, 'was only the first step in a series of campaigns needed to secure the
unity of Egypt.’ Ahmose was obliged to pacify the Nubian frontier, as well as to put down a
series of minor rebellions, but by the time his reign ended, Egypt had been reunified, and the
stage had been set for what was arguably her greatest and most glorious era, that of the New
Kingdom (1550-1069 BC).

77
 THE
EARLY NEW
KINGDOM

(ca. 1550-1352 BC)

78
 According to American Egyptologist Betsy Bryan, 'Archaeological discoveries in the 1980s
and 1990s, combined with the re-examination of older inscriptional evidence, suggest that the
reunification of Egypt took place only in the last decade of the twenty-five-year reign of
Ahmose (1550-1525 BC), first king of the 18th Dynasty.’ Once this reunification had taken place,
however, there began a period of prosperity, expansion, and splendor that was to endure for
almost five centuries, and which would mark the histories of Africa, the Middle East, and the
entire ancient world forever.

Based on finds of jewelry and other personal items in tombs of the period, Ahmose has a
direct connection with the god of the moon. '[I]nscriptions on the jewelry of [Queen] Ahhotep I
and Kamose (1555-1550 BC),' writes Betsy Bryan, '… describe Ahmose as “son of the moon-god,
Iah,”’ a deity who was frequently called ‘lord of the chambers of the night' in a variety of New
Kingdom texts. Although he enjoyed a successful reign, and his mummy was later found in the
great royal cache discovered in 1881, the tomb of Ahmose has never been discovered.

The son and successor of Ahmose, Amenhotep I (r. 1551-1524 BC) himself left few records
behind, but we know of some of his achievements through tomb inscriptions belonging to a
high noble of his court, himself known as ‘Ahmose, son of Ebana.’ Most notably, the pharaoh
led a military expedition to the land of Kush, where ‘His Majesty captured that Nubian
troglodyte [the king of Kush] in the midst of his army.’ His mummy was also found in excellent
condition in the cache of 1881, but his tomb, like that of his son, has never been located with
any degree of certainty.

Bryan believes that 'Amenhotep I was highly successful as a ruler... [; t]his is perhaps best
borne out by the fact that, soon after his death, both he and his mother were deified and
worshipped at Thebes, especially at Deir el-Medina, the royal tomb-workers' village,’ an honor
not automatically bestowed on deceased rulers at this point in the history of the New Kingdom
period.

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 Access to the ranks of the royal family of Egypt was strictly controlled, thus guaranteeing a
certain degree of stability in preserving and expanding the material fortunes of its most senior
members. Bryan writes thoughtfully of the practice, claiming, 'The success of the dynastic line
in the early 18th Dynasty was certainly attributable, in part, to a decision to limit access to the
royal family.’ In economic terms,' she continues, 'this would have meant that holdings gained in
the wars were not divided with families whose sons married a princess;’ this mode of
preservation of material holdings was to serve the various branches of the royal family well, for
it helped to ensure a substantial and ongoing accumulation of the family’s fortune.

Another practice that was designed to isolate and preserve the dynastic fortunes and ‘divine
bloodline’ of the royal family’s most senior figures was that of intermarriage between siblings,
which became increasingly common during the succeeding decades of the New Kingdom
period. Queen Ahmose-Nefertari, for example, played a variety of roles, in addition to that
which was inherent in being an official wife of Ahmose. 'Ahmose's Donation Stele at Karnak...,'
writes Bryan, 'is the first known monument on which Ahmose-Nefertari figures; she is
described on this stele as king's daughter, king's sister, king's great wife, god's wife of Amun,
and, like Ahhotep, mistress of Upper and Lower Egypt.’ Thus, she was a sister of Ahmose, as
well as his great wife.

Amenhotep I was succeeded by Thutmose I (r. 1504-1492 BC), who was not, however, the
former’s son. 'Thutmose I's father is unknown,' writes Bryan, 'but his mother was named
Seniseneb, a rather common name of the Second Intermediate Period and early 18th Dynasty.’
Additionally, Bryan claims that 'Seniseneb's parentage is equally unknown [as that of Thutmose
I], but she had no title during her son's reign other than “king's mother.”' What is known,
however, about Thutmose I is that his reign, although a short one, was highly successful
militarily.

‘Although [Thutmose] had a short reign of only around six years,’ writes Peter Clayton in
Chronicle of the Pharaohs,’ it was marked by a series of brilliant military campaigns that were

80
to set the seal on most of the rest of the 18th Dynasty.’ Most notable of these campaigns was that
waged against the Kerma king, who was defeated and killed by Thutmose himself. ‘Ahmose, son
of Ebana,’ writes Clayton, ‘was still on active service during this period, and he recounts how he
was promoted to admiral, was highly successful in the Nubian campaign and returned
therefrom with that wrteched Nubian troglodyte being hanged head downward at the prow of the
barge of His Majesty.’ Furthermore, on the stele that he ordered to be erected at Abydos,
Thutmose proudly claims, ‘I made the boundaries of Egypt as far as that which the sun
encircles... I made Egypt the superior of every land.’ Given the brevity and brilliance of his reign,
we are left to wonder what he might later have accomplished, had this exceptional pharaoh
been granted more time on the throne to accomplish all of his long-term aims.

Thutmose I was succeeded by his son, Thutmose II, but he was of fairly fragile health, and
upon his death circa 1479 BC, he was succeeded by his infant son, Thutmose III (r. 1479-1425
BC). The real power behind this young boy’s throne , however, was his stepmother (and aunt),
Hatshepsut (r. 1473-1458 BC), the sister-wife of the late king. After acting as the young boy’s
regent for about six years, she herself was openly proclaimed as a pharaoh (i.e., ‘[lord of the]
Great House’), and thereupon commenced her own brilliant reign, assuming the titles and
attributes (false beard, pharaonic kilt, etc.) of a male king. Hatshepsut, however, disappears
from the historical record after 1458 BC, whereupon Thutmose III was once again free to reign
in his own name exclusively, which he did quite brilliantly until circa 1425 BC, leading him to be
called ‘the Napoleon of ancient Egypt’ by the American Egyptologist James Henry Breasted, due
to his long series of highly successful military campaigns throughout the region.

'Almost immediately after his sole reign began,' observes Bryan, 'Thutmose III began an
expedition to the Levant, where he sought to wrest control of a number of city-states and towns
who recognized a Mitannian overlord from north-east Syria.’ Bryan further avers that, '[h]aving
apparently taken as an excuse the need to deal with local squabbles in Sharuhen and its vicinity,
the king went to Gaza from the Egyptian border fortress at Tjaru.’ These actions, however, were
a mere prelude to his later triumphs, which were to culminate in his conquest of Kadesh in 14

81
BC. According to Egyptologist Peter Clayton, ‘the lists at Karnak detail over 350 cities that also
fell to the Egyptian might,’ making Thutmose III the most notable and successful military figure
of ancient Egyptian history.

Amenhotep II (r. 1427-1400 BC) was anointed a ‘co-king’ with his father, Thutmose III,
around 1427 BC, and later succeeded him upon the latter’s death, circa 1425 BC. Egyptologist
Betsy Bryan writes that 'Amenhotep II carried out two campaigns in Syria, the first probably in
year 7, the latter in year 9 [of his reign].’ 'The first campaign,' she notes, 'concentrated on the
defeat of unaligned chiefs and rebellions among recently acquired vassals.’ Although there
seems to have been some military activity in Syria during the course of the latter expedition,
'The second campaign in year 9 was largely carried out in Palestine,’ showing that, like his
illustrious father, Amenhotep II was eager to prove himself as a warrior, as well as a sovereign.

There may have been questions about the succession of the next king, Thutmose IV (r.
1400-1390 BC, and his claim to the throne may not have been as strong as that of others. ‘There
may have been some doubt about the legitimacy of [Thutmose] IV’s succession, ‘writes Peter
Clayton, ‘since a long inscription preserved on a tall stele between the paws of the Sphinx at
Giza smacks of propaganda in support of the new king.’ This example of a ‘shoring up’ of divine
support for a pharaoh’s potentially questionable succession is certainly not the first in Egyptian
history, but it is one of the most colorful ones, to be sure.

‘Known as the Dream Stele,’ recounts Clayton, ‘it tells how the young prince [Thutmose]
was out hunting in the desert when he fell asleep in the shadow of the Sphinx.’ What happened
next represents the nexus of the human and the divine in ancient Egyptian thought, for the
young prince receives a truly promising and portentous visitation. ‘Re-Harakhte, the sun-god
embodied in the Sphinx,’ continues Clayton, ‘ appeared to him in a dream, and promised that if
the sand engulfing the great limestone body was cleared away, the prince would become king.
Needless to say,’ Clayton observes, ‘the sand-clearing operation was immediately carried out
and the prince became the fourth of his name.’ Given the high degree of importance accorded

82
by ancient Egyptians to both the worlds of the gods, and to the ‘dream world’ of human sleep,
the otherworldly sponsorship accorded to prince Thutmose by one of Egypt’s chief deities must
indeed have strengthened his initially tenuous claim to the throne of the Two Lands.

'Thutmose IV's reign of at least eight years,' writes Betsy Bryan, 'was brief but active,’
although this period contains few events of a military nature. 'As king,' continues Bryan,
'Thutmose IV had... wealth and peace, but time apparently was cut short... He honoured the
established cult centres and was hardly an iconoclast. Indeed we may suggest that he followed
in the footsteps of his grandfather [Thutmose III] and father [Amenhotep II].’ In religious
matters, writes Bryan, 'The king's interest in the sun-gods may be documented throughout his
building campaigns and in his inscriptions as well.’ Indeed, Bryan avers that 'Thutmose IV may
have begun a course that Amenhotep III completed, particularly in deliberately identifying
himself with the sun-god... The trend of elevating the royal associations with Egypt's major
gods... became even more prominent during Thutmose IV's reign.’ Thus it may be seen that the
growing trend toward royal solar worship, one that was to culminate in the elevation of the cult
of the Aten under Akhenaten/Amenhotep IV (r. 1352-1336/5 BC), perhaps drew its earliest
dynastic inspiration from the devotion of Thutmose IV to Re-Harakhte, which was passed on to
his son and successor Amenhotep III (r. 1390-1352 BC), the highly successful ruler of what was
arguably the most splendid period in all of the ancient Egyptian history.

83
 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

Queen Hatshepsut

(r. 1473-1458 BC)

84
 The falcon god, Horus, guards one of the entrance ramps
to the mortuary temple of Queen Hatshepsut at Deir el Bahri

Hatshepsut is depicted as a male Osirid figure in statues at Deir el Bahri

85
 The colossal head of the goddess Hathor caps a stone pillar at Deir el Bahri

The symbols for life (ankh, left), stability (djed, center), and power (was, right)

86
 THE
AMARNA PERIOD
AND
LATER
NEW KINGDOM
(c. 1352-1069 BC)

87
 The Amarna Period (c. 1352-1336 BC) and Later New Kingdom (ca. 1336-1069 BC) represent a
combined era of a little over two-and-a-half centuries, and yet during this relatively
circumscribed span of time, changes in Egyptian religion, government, and society coalesced in
such a fashion as to make it one of the most pivotal and decisive epochs in the entire
continuum of pharaonic history. The immense socio-cultural changes set in motion by the so-
called 'heretic,' Akhenaten (r. c. 1352-1336 BC), were to continue to have equally immense and
far-reaching repercussions long after they had been undone by his successors, for Egyptian
beliefs about the nature, position, and sanctity of the role of the king were all to undergo major
shifts as a direct and irrevocable result of the attempted (and largely disastrous) intrusion of the
Amarna king into the hearts and minds of his subjects.

According to Jacobus van Dijk, at the death of Amenhotep III around 1352 BC, 'he left behind
a country that was wealthier and more powerful than it had ever been before. The treaty with
Mitanni concluded by his father had brought peace and stability, which resulted in a culture of
extraordinary luxury.’ However, not only the material conditions of the population had changed,
but also their general mentality, especially with regard to how they viewed foreigners. 'Peace,'
avers van Dijk, 'had also changed Egyptians' attitude towards their foreign neighbours, who
were no longer primarily seen as the hostile forces of chaos surrounding Egypt.’ Indeed,
according to van Dijk, '[N]ow foreign peoples were themselves seen as part of god's creation,
protected and sustained by the benevolent rule of the sun-god Ra and his earthly representative,
the king.’ It was the centrality of Ra in this newly prosperous Egypt, however, which was
engender the coming period of disruption, destruction, and loss, for the royal focus on the solar
cult during the latter years of the reign of Amenhotep III (c. 1390-1352 BC), which saw the entire
identification of the pharaoh with Ra, was to set up a socio-political and theological collision
course with the powerful priesthood of Amun-Ra, themselves votaries of the combined
godhead, whose bipartite name roughly translates as 'hidden universal' (imn-re).

Despite Amenhotep III's efforts to show favor to a wide panoply of gods during his later
years in power, the primacy of the sun-god only grew. '[I]n hymns from the very end of the

88
reign,' writes van Dijk, 'the sun-god is clearly set apart from the other gods- he is the supreme
deity who is alone, far away in the sky, whereas the other deities are part of his creation,
alongside men and animals.’ This trend was to be taken up in earnest by his son, who initially
bore the name Amenhotep (IV), but who was eventually to cast off this throne name in favor of
a name that incorporated that of the new supreme deity, the sun-disc called the 'Aten.'

Although Amenhotep IV initially erected temples at Karnak in the traditional fashion,

they were not dedicated to the once-supreme god Amun-Ra, but to “The living one, Ra-Horus
of the horizon who rejoices in the horizon in his identity of light which is in the sun-disc.” It
was thus to the “living sun-disc,” i.e., to the 'Aten,' that this new pharaoh was soon to direct all
of his worship, and to whose exclusive cult he was to devote all of his energies. He himself was
to be integrated into the fellowship of this new god, for as van Dijk writes, 'The original triad
consisting of Atum, the primeval father, his son Shu, and his daughter Tefnut is now replaced
by a triad of the Aten as the father and the living king and queen as his children.’ Thus, the
bipartite and fully divine godhead, Amun-Ra, was replaced by a tripartite godhead of mixed
divine and human nature, the latter composite deity being a potentially intriguing
foreshadowing of the 'Holy Trinity' of Christianity, which was to emerge almost fourteen
centuries later under very different circumstances.

At some point early in the fifth year of his kingship, Amenhotep IV undertook two colossal
steps that would signal a pivotal break with the past, both socio-culturally and practically
speaking. 'Early in the fifth year of his reign,' observes van Dijk, 'Amenhotep IV decided to sever
all links with the traditional religious capital of Egypt and its god Amun, and to build an
entirely new city on virgin soil that would be entirely devoted to the cult of the Aten and his
children.’ This radical move on the religious and socio-political fronts was to be accompanied
by an equally revolutionary one on the personal level. 'At the same time, ' writes van Dijk, ' he
changed his name to Akhenaten, which means “he who acts effectively on behalf of the Aten,”
or perhaps “creative manifestation of the Aten.”' His new city, which is known today by its
Arabic name, Tel el Amarna, was called Akhetaten, or 'horizon of the Aten.'

89
 In the ninth year of his reign, Akhenaten further refined the name of the new deity,
removing the mention to Horus, and took yet another crucial step in his installation of the Aten
as the supreme godhead. '[T]he traditional gods,' avers van Dijk, 'were banned completely and a
campaign was begun to remove their names and effigies (particularly those of Amun) from the
monuments, a Herculean task that can only have been carried out with the help of the army.’
Furthermore, writes van Dijk, 'The traditional state temples were closed down and the cults of
the gods came to a standstill.’ This could certainly not have been effected merely by royal fiat,
despite the great power wielded by the pharaohs of the New Kingdom period., or by mere acts
of the civil authorities of the kingdom. 'The role of the military during the Amarna Period,'
observes van Dijk, 'has long been underestimated... [but] more recently, however, it has been
recognized... that the king's programme of political and religious reform could never have
succeeded without active military support,’ illustrating the enforced nature of these changes,
carried out by force, and under compulsion of the vast majority of the general population.

The political and religious revolutions that were carried out by Akhenaten and his élite
followers were also accompanied by a major aesthetic revolution, one in which the king, his
family, and his courtiers were all portrayed in images that depicted them in a new and
strikingly different fashion. '[N]ot long after his accession,' claims van Dijk, 'Amenhotep IV had
himself depicted with a thin, drawn-out face with pointed chin and thick lips, an elongated
neck, almost feminine breasts, a round protruding belly, wide hips, fat thighs, and thin, spindly
legs.’ Furthermore, observes van Dijk, 'It was not only Akhenaten, Nefertiti, and their daughters
who were depicted in this style, but all other human beings as well, albeit in a less exaggerated
form.’ This new convention in portraiture, known today as the 'Amarna style,' was to mark out
the period from an artistic point of view, and to make the art produced during this extremely
brief era both instantly recognizable and wildly unique when taken as a part of the broader
continuum of the traditional aesthetics of the multi-millennial pharaonic civilization.

The new style of temple architecture as initiated by Akhenaten drew heavily on classical

90
Egyptian styles of design, as evidenced by the remains of the various solar worship sites in and
around Amarna, but it also incorporated some novel and theologically-dictated aspects that
served to make it highly unusual when considered in the context of New Kingdom religious and
devotional buildings. 'The most conspicuous difference,' avers van Dijk, 'between, on the one
hand, the Aten temples both at Amarna and at Karnak, and, on the other hand, the traditional
temples is that the former are open to the skies.’ This is highly significant, for previously the
images of the gods themselves were usually shrouded in darkness, and were rarely seen by
worshippers outside of the priestly and royal classes.

'The king,' writes van Dijk, 'worshipped his god in open courtyards studded with a large
number of small altars on which offerings to the Aten were made.’ This is a direct reflection of
the fact that '[l]ight was the most essential aspect of the Aten, who was a god of the light that
emerged from the sun's disc and kept every living being alive in continuous creation.’ Replacing
the old gods, especially in the homes and tombs of the kingdom's aristocracy and bureaucrats
were 'small shrines with altars and stelae representing the holy royal family.’ Thus it was that
not only the power and centrality of Amun-Ra were challenged by the new régime, but also the
role of the lesser gods in the daily lives of the élite members of the Egyptian population. As for
the common people, evidence shows that they largely clung to their beliefs in the old gods, and
in particular, to the cults of the local gods of their city or township.

After the death of Akhenaten circa 1336 BC, he was succeeded by his young son, Tutankhaten,
who was about nine years of age at the time. 'The young Tutankhaten,' avers van Dijk, 'still a
child, had ascended the throne at Amarna, but soon afterwards, perhaps as early as his first
regnal year or shortly afterwards, he abandoned the city founded by his father.’ The name of
this king was soon changed to Tutankhamun, and although we of the modern age known him
best as a result of the 1922 discovery of his largely intact tomb by Howard Carter, his fame in
the ancient Egyptian mind was rather that of a restorer of the old gods and of the old ways. 'In
Egypt...,' writes van Dijk, 'a major campaign to restore the traditional temples and to reorganize
the administration of the country was set in motion.’ The reign of the boy king was not to last

91
long, however, and he died before the age of twenty in circumstances that remain unclear to
this day.

Although a path to the succession had been established for the general, Horemheb, who had
served as the young king's regent, it was the boy pharaoh’s elderly vizier, Ay, who first followed
Tutankhamun onto the throne. Ay's reign (c. 1327-1323 BC), however, was to be a brief one, and
within four years, Horemheb himself (c. 1323-1295 BC) succeeded Ay as the new ruler of Egypt.
He was devoted to restoring the glories of the old gods, and seems to have been equally
dedicated to dismantling and destroying the legacy of Akhenaten, both at Amarna, and
elsewhere throughout the country. 'Perhaps the most salient feature of Horemheb's reign,'
claims van Dijk, 'is the way that he legitimized it; after all, he was of non-royal blood and was,
therefore, unable to claim a “genealogical” link with the dynastic god Amun.’ Rather than
attempt to hide his humble origins, however, Horemheb boldly proclaimed them in his
Coronation Stele, and as van Dijk observes, 'instead puts much emphasis on the fact that, as a
young man, he was chosen by the god Horus of Hutnesu, presumably his home town, to be
king of Egypt.’ In this manner, he manages to broadcast this blessing of Horus' favor in such a
way as to set himself up as, in every appreciable way, the equal of the so-called 'royal pharaohs,'
and perhaps even as somewhat their better, for the god himself had interceded on Horemheb's
behalf to make him a sovereign, plucking him out of common circumstances in order to elevate
him to the divine kingship.

For his part, Horemheb was to do the very same thing for his successor, Paramessu, who was
also of common extraction. 'Paramessu's family,' writes van Dijk, 'came from Avaris, the former
capital of the Hyksos, and the role of its local god[] Seth... seems to have been comparable with
Horus of Hutnesu in Horemheb's career.’ Thus, when Horemheb passed away around 1295 BC,
Paramessu succeeded him under the throne name of Rameses I (1295-1294 BC). Rameses I,
however, was probably quite aged when he succeeded to the kingship, and died soon after his
accession, perhaps after less than a year of active reign. He was succeeded by his son, who in
turn took the name of Sety I (1294-1279 BC), in honor of the local god of his home town and

92
acknowledged family seat. In the Abydos king list, writes van Dijk, 'Amenhotep III is directly
followed by Horemheb, and other sources indicate that the regnal years of the kings from
Akhenaten to Ay were added to those of Horemheb,’ thus erasing the entirety of the 'Amarna
episode' from the official record, and providing for posterity a clear and unpolluted line of
succession from the greatest of the New Kingdom pharaohs to his worthy successor, Sety I.

It was thus with Sety I that a true restoration of the prestige of Egyptian kingship began in
earnest, but it is his son and successor Rameses II (c. 1279-1213 BC) who is most remembered, as
a warrior, as a builder, and as a powerful ruler who led his nation through its last era of genuine
and untrammeled greatness. Rameses was eager to prove himself as a war leader, and to that
end, undertook a campaign in year five of his reign, c. 1274 BC, in order to reclaim Egyptian
hegemony over Syria, which had been usurped by the Hittite king Muwatalli. 'The battle of
Qadesh that followed,' observes van Dijk, 'is one of the most famous armed conflicts of
antiquity.’ The widespread Egyptian propaganda that cast the pharaoh as having completely
vanquished his numberless enemies was entirely false; 'Rameses,' observes van Dijk, 'despite the
fact that he was unable to achieve his goals, presented it at home as a huge victory described at
large in lengthy compositions.’ What Rameses may have lacked in terms of concrete military
victories, however, he more than made up for in the realm of monumental architecture, for he
is best remembered today as a builder of absolutely colossal vision and truly imperial
ambitions.

'During his long years on the throne,' writes van Dijk, 'Rameses II carried out a vast building
programme.’ Nevertheless, he is equally celebrated as a 'recycler' of other rulers’ monuments
and inscriptions. 'During... his reign,' observes van Dijk somewhat wryly,'he gradually filled the
country with his temples and statues, many of which he usurped from earlier rulers; there is
hardly a site in Egypt where his cartouches are not found on the monuments.’ True to his
family's roots, he also 'expanded the city of Avaris and made it his great Delta residence, called
Piramesse.’ In addition to his great creative energies in the realms of governance and building,
Rameses also found the time to father over one hundred children, with twelve of his elder sons

93
predeceasing him, as he himself survived well into his nineties. 'During the last years of his
reign,' claims van Dijk, 'he had become a living legend, and he was clearly much admired (and
envied) by his successors,’ nine of whom were to adopt the name of Rameses in hopeful
emulation of the greatness of their august and long-lived predecessor.

Nevertheless, the length and splendor of Rameses II's reign were eventually to yield a legacy
of financial shortfalls, declining quality in workmanship and materials, and generally lowered
standards across Egyptian society. A son, a grandson, and a great-grandson of Ramesses II were
all to succeed him on the throne, but this twilight hour of decline would eventually culminate
in the end of the dynasty with the reign of the stepmother of his great-grandson, Saptah (1194-
1188 BC), who ruled as Queen Tausret (1188-1186 BC) before the advent of the 20th Dynasty
brought a new family to power. The most significant king of this new dynasty was Rameses III
(1184-1153 BC), who is considered to have been the last ruler of Egypt to wield real, unfettered
power in the traditional sense, and who was to drive off invasion attempts by the so-called 'Sea
Peoples,' a large group of semi-nomadic climate refugees who attacked Egypt in year eight of
his reign.

Rameses III's administration of Egypt was to fall victim to the intemperance and poor
policies of his predecessors, with a steep decline in economic and social stability as the direct
results of these 'sins of the fathers.' Indeed, '[a]n overall loss of control over the state finances
and economic crisis,' avers van Dijk, 'were the result.’ This state of affairs was eventually to lead
to the first recorded workers' strike in history, and opened the door to plots against the king
himself. 'This gradual breakdown of the centralized state,' observes van Dijk, 'may well have
been one of the reasons behind an attempt on the life of Rameses III, or if it was not, the
general unrest and insecurity may at least have given the conspirators the idea that they could
count on general support if they succeeded.’ According to van Dijk, the kings who were to
follow 'were probably all related to Rameses [III],’ and all were to bear the very same personal
name, but they represent rather shadowy and incomplete figures in the Egyptian records of the
time; the power of the last king of the line was directly contested by that of the high priests of

94
Amun, who witnessed a concomitant rise in political might and a widening of influence
throughout Upper Egypt, as well as by local warlords and political bosses.

The end of the 20th Dynasty came about with the death of Rameses XI (1099-1069 BC), who
despite a fairly long reign found that 'his power was virtually reduced to Lower Egypt (that is,
the Delta)' (ibid., pg. 308). The 21st Dynasty was to begin with an unrelated ruler, Smendes
(1069-1043 BC) mounting the throne in the Delta, thereby initiating what is known among
scholars as the Third Intermediate Period (1069-664 BC). With regard to the legacy of the
Amarna Period and the Later New Kingdom, van Dijk claims that 'it is undeniable that royal
prestige had gradually eroded in the course of the 19th and 20th Dynasties... [T]hese
developments may themselves be seen as the result, or at least the symptoms, of a much more
fundamental change. At the root of this change is yet again the Amarna Period,’ for this period
had clearly so reduced the belief of the people in its royal institutions that the erosion of royal
authority and agency were eventual co-casualties of Akhenaten’s willful and reckless foray into
the realm of dictatorially-enforced state monotheism.

It can therefore be seen that the seeds of the eventual decline and fall of the brilliant New
Kingdom polity bequeathed to Akhenaten by his father, Amenhotep III, actually lay in the very
policies and actions that the former carried out during the course of his so-called 'religious
revolution.' Indeed, van Dijk clams, '[I]n the eyes of all but a few of the Amarna élite he
[Akhenaten] had actually wrecked society.’ What's more is that '[a]ll of these developments
further minimalized the role of the king as god's representative on earth... Once Amun had
been recognized as the true king, the political power of the earthly rulers could be reduced to a
minimum and transferred to Amun's priesthood.’ This, predictably, led to the desacralization of
the role of the kings themselves, and thus, 'The mummies of their royal ancestors were no
longer considered the erstwhile incarnations of god on earth, and so, with few scruples, their
tombs could be robbed and their bodies unwrapped.’ Although kings, in one form or another,
would hold sway over the political, military, and social fortunes of Egypt for another
millennium, their power would never again equal that held by the greatest rulers of the 18th, 19th,

95
and 20th Dynasties, and the succeeding ten centuries would constitute a mournful trajectory of
protracted and ever-dimming regal twilight.

96
 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The
Amarna Period

(ca. 1352-1336 BC)

97
Djed pillars and Isis knots decorate one of the gilded shrines of the pharaoh Tutankhamun (r.
1336/5-1325 BCE), as discovered by Howard Carter in 1922

98
A monumental statue of the ‘rebel’ pharaoh Akhenaten/Amenhotep IV (r. 1352-1336/5 BCE), father
of Tutankhamun

99
Full-length statue of the pharaoh Tutankhamun, arrayed as the god Khonsu

100
One of the semi-gilded storage caskets of the pharaoh Tutankhamun, featuring was scepters and
ankh symbols, all poised on neb images, as well as extensive hieroglyphic inscriptions

101
Painted images from a different storage casket of Tutankhamun, this time featuring the king as a
triumphant sphinx, crushing Egypt’s enemies underfoot

Another side of the same casket, showing the king wearing different headgear and diadem, but
still victoriously trampling enemies

102
Alabaster canopic jars from the tomb of Tutankhamun, encased within an alabaster chest bearing
the names and titles of the king

103
 THE ROLE OF
EGYPT
IN THE
ANCIENT WORLD

104
 The relationship that existed in ancient times between Egypt and the rest of the proximate
world was both a fundamentally complex and a highly changeable one; with the fluctuations of
Egyptian territorial reach and socio-political might throughout the region came various related
waves of awareness, and of acceptance, regarding the presence of foreigners and their
respective cultures. What never seemed to waver, however, was the eagerness (as well as the
assiduity) with which the country's ruling elites sought to engage in trade and exchange, in a
seemingly unending quest to obtain the raw materials and luxury commodities whose
possession allowed them to broadcast their preferred status and social predominance to the
general population. The fruits of this trade were frequently disguised as 'tribute,' flowing from
foreign lands theoretically 'subject' to the pharaohs of the day, in an effort to maintain a vision
of Egypt as the paramount power of the region, but the give-and-take exchanges that were
involved in acquiring various building materials and luxury products are readily apparent upon
close examination of the various relationships under consideration at any given point in the
continuum of Egyptian history.

'From the earliest times,' writes Egyptologist Ian Shaw, 'expeditions concerned with trade,
quarrying, and warfare brought the Egyptians into repeated contact with foreigners.’ According
to Shaw, '[t]he regions with which Egypt gradually fostered commercial and political links can
be grouped into three basic areas: Africa (primarily Nubia, Libya, and Punt), Asia (Syria-
Palestine, Mesopotamia, Arabia, and Anatolia), and the northern and eastern Mediterranean
(Cyprus, Crete, the Sea Peoples, and the Greeks).’ Parallel to questions regarding the nature and
identity of the various foreign peoples with whom the Egyptians carried out trade, on whom
they waged war, and with whom they engaged in culturo-dynastic alliances and cooperative
ventures, questions that touch on the racial and ethnic identity of the ancient Egyptians
naturally arise. 'Linguistically,' observes Shaw, 'they belonged to the Afro-Asiatic (Hamito-
Semitic) family, but this is simply another way of saying that, as their geographical position
implies, their language had some similarities to contemporary languages both in parts of Africa
and in the Near East.’ However, what is most significant, perhaps, is how the Egyptians viewed
themselves in relation to the various peoples who surrounded them throughout the region.

105
 'The iconography of Egyptians' depictions of foreigners,' avers Shaw, 'suggests that for much
of their history they saw themselves as midway between the black Africans and the paler
Asiatics.’ This did not mean, however, that having foreign origins, or a demonstrably foreign
appearance, served to prevent incomers of ability and dedication from rising in the ranks of the
country's vast bureaucracy, or from gaining acceptance within the broader context of Egyptian
society itself. Individuals of foreign origins rose to occupy the very highest offices in the land,
and were duly rewarded by Egyptian kings for their excellence and dedication in service to the
greater polity; the Nubian official Maiherpri and Aper-el, an official of Near Eastern origins,
were both honored and rewarded under kings of the 18th Dynasty, with their family origins
apparently serving as no impediment to their social and professional ascension in New
Kingdom Egypt.

'Nine Bows' was the term typically used to describe the traditional enemies of Egypt,
although the constitutive elements of this broad assemblage of nations and peoples could vary
from epoch to epoch, and indeed, from reign to reign, but they typically included Asiatics and
Nubians. One aspect that did not vary, however, was the depiction of bound captives, both as
decorative elements, and as visual propaganda, throughout the entirety of Egypt's immensely
long and colorful history. 'Depictions of bound foreign captives,' claims Shaw, 'frequently
feature in Egyptian art. Various prestige items of the late Predynastic and Early Dynastic
periods (such as the Narmer Palette) include scenes in which the king dispatches or humiliates
bound foreigners.’ The image of the pharaoh 'smiting' his enemies is thus one of the most
recognizable motifs of Egyptian royal iconography, and such scenes appear regularly on various
public buildings and monuments, including those created during the very late days of the
Roman Period. 'Throughout the phararonic and Graeco-Roman Periods,' says Shaw, 'the
depiction of the bound captive was a popular theme in the decoration of temples and palaces.’
Furthermore, this 'served to reinforce the pharaoh's total suppression of foreigners and
probably also symbolized the elements of “unrule” that the gods required the king to control.’
This sort of decorative element can therefore be seen as enunciating, in a highly graphic fashion,

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the maintenance of stability and order that the various kings carried out on a daily basis, and
which ensured the peace and prosperity of their Nile Valley subjects.

When considering the nature and extent of the traditional borders of Egypt, i.e., the Western
and Eastern deserts, Sinai, the Mediterranean coast, and the Nile cataracts south of Aswan, it
can be observed that, according to Shaw, '[t]he Egyptians used two words to refer to a border:
djer [an eternal and universal limit] and tash [an actual geographical frontier, which might be
set by people or deities].’ What Shaw observes with regard to the connection of borders to royal
responsibility for the glory and prosperity of the empire, however, is perhaps the most
intriguing aspect of Egyptian views of the nature of the essentially man-made construct of the
limes. 'The latter [tash] was, therefore,' writes Shaw, 'essentially movable, and all pharaohs were
in theory entrusted with the responsibility of “extending the borders” of Egypt, given that their
royal names and titles implied a potentially infinite area of political domination.’ This perpetual
obligation to 'grow' the nation notwithstanding, '[t]he furthest extent of the actual borders was
evidently established in the reign of Thutmose III in the 18th Dynasty,' avers Shaw, 'when
triumphal stelae were erected at the River Euphrates in Asia and at Kurgus (between the fourth
and fifth cataracts) in Nubia.’ These feats of conquest may have been equaled momentarily by
certain of the Nubian pharaohs of the 25th Dynasty, but as their control of such a vast extent of
territory was rather ephemeral, it must therefore be to the zeal for conquest of Thutmose III
that the empire's widest extent should be attributed.

One of the most significant aspects of the archaeological remains that have been uncovered
at various points along the known border lands of ancient Egypt is what they indicate, both
broadly, and quite specifically, about the nature and extent of the contacts that took place
between the Egyptians and their neighbors throughout the course of its history. 'The evidence
for commercial and diplomatic links between the emerging state of Egypt and its various
neighbouring cultures and states,' claims Shaw, 'often survives in the form of exotic raw
materials and products, as well the vessels in which they were carried.’ One of the key materials
that the Egyptians sought out from the very beginning of their civilization was the deep blue

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stone known as lapis lazuli, which was used for jewelery, amulets, and figurines from at least as
early as the Naqada II Period (c. 3500-3200 BC). This stone, however, could only be obtained
from what is modern-day Afghanistan, and thus from quarries that were some 4,000 km away
from the Nile Valley.

Closer to home, but no less significant, were the trade routes that enabled Egypt to carry on
commercial relations with areas in the Levant. 'Pottery found at early urban sites in southern
Palestine itself,' observes Shaw, 'suggests that an Egyptian trade network may have been
flourishing in this area as early as the first phase of the Early Bronze Age.’ Most interesting
among early trading partners, however, were the Nubian C-Group people. 'The C-Group
people,' writes Shaw, 'were roughly synchronous with the period in Egyptian history from the
mid-6th Dynasty to the early 18th Dynasty (c. 2300-1500 BC)... Their way of life seems to have
been dominated by cattle-herding, while their social system was probably essentially tribal
(until they began to be integrated into Egyptian society).’ Their lands were effectively taken
over by Egypt fairly early in the 12th Dynasty, probably in order to keep them from forming
alliances with the nearby Kerma culture that was at that time a significant regional power.

Among the more notable contacts that the Egyptians maintained with foreign powers were
those that they cultivated with the Kingdom of Punt, a region that was probably located in
modern Eritrea, or potentially, according to some contemporary scholars, in the southern-most
area of what is modern-day Sudan. 'Egyptian contacts with Africa,' avers Shaw, 'gradually
extended even further than Lower and Upper Nubia, bringing them into contact with a region
in East Africa that they describe as Punt. Trading missions were sent there from at least the 5th
Dynasty (2494-2345 BC) onwards in order to obtain such products as gold, aromatic resins,
African blackwood, ebony, ivory, slaves, and wild animals (for example, monkeys and
cyncephalous baboons).’ Such ventures served to bring the Egyptians well into the orbit of the
sub-Saharan peoples, and therefore into direct contact with what was known rather
romantically during the 19th and early 20th centuries as 'darkest Africa.'

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 Although Egypt's reach certainly extended well across Nubian Africa and the Semitic Levant,
modern scholars are not in agreement as to the degrees of socio-economic and military control
that the pharaonic kingdom exercised over the aforementioned regions. 'Opinions differ,
however,' observes Shaw, 'as to which of these territories can be said to have been politically or
socially “colonized,” or whether the situation was much more erratic, perhaps characterized
only by periodic raids designed to safeguard trade routes and provide supplies of war booty.’
However, in and around Nubia, at sites dating from the 12th Dynasty onwards, there is evidence
that shows that the border fortresses were well-stocked with provisions, which seems to
indicate that the southern Nile areas were, at one point or another, brought under the direct
physical control of the Egyptian military.

'In Palestine, however,' Shaw claims 'there is very little evidence for any permanent Egyptian
presence during the Middle Kingdom,’ leading scholars to believe that it was not until the New
Kingdom era that the pharaonic military managed to establish any quasi-permanent dominion
over certain areas of the Levant. Indeed, according to Shaw, 'The principal debate concerning
Egyptian involvement in Syria-Palestine during the New Kingdom centres on the question of
the degree to which Egypt maintained a permanent military and/or civilian presence at the
various towns and cities that they had conquered.’ One way or the other, Shaw affirms, with
regard to examples of Egyptian imperialistic practices in her conquered territories, that 'the real
story probably lies in the more prosaic archival material that has so rarely survived,’ and which
would serve to give us a much more balanced picture of the day-to-day operations and
initiatives undertaken in the outlying areas of Egypt’s far-flung empire.

Key among the port cities of the Levant that Egypt came to control was that of Byblos,
through which passed the famous cedars of Lebanon, among other goods and commodities.
'Egyptian objects,' writes Shaw, 'are found there from as early as the 2nd Dynasty (2890-2686
BC).’ There seems to have been a long historical trajectory to the Egyptian presence in this
pivotal port, as Shaw observes that '[a] sarcophagus found with objects of Rameses II (1279-1213
BC) and showing Egyptian influence is important for its later (tenth century BC) inscription.’

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Indeed, '[t]he archaeological evidence,' avers Shaw, 'therefore suggests a peak of Egypto-Byblian
contact in the 19th Dynasty, followed by decline in the 20th and 21st Dynasties... and finally a
resurgence of links in the 22nd and 23rd Dynasties.’ Subsequently, however, the importance of
Byblos came to be overshadowed by that of the nearby port cities of Tyre and Sidon.

Unique among the groups with whom the Egyptian state was obliged to contend were the
so-called 'Sea Peoples.' Crop failures of the 13th and 12th centuries led to mass migrations
throughout Anatolia and the wider area of the Levant. Many of the urban centers of the
Mycenean peoples seem to have been destroyed at this time, and the pharaoh Merenptah of the
19th Dynasty felt obliged to send grain to the Hittites in order to help alleviate the dire state of
food scarcity and outright famine that was present in that region. However, during the last
years of the 13th century, according to Shaw, 'sources indicate that the Sea Peoples were not
simply engaged in random acts of plundering but were part of a significant movement of
displaced people migrating into Syria-Palestine and Egypt.’ This is a key feature of the age;
Shaw notes that '[t]he Sea People's first attack on the Egyptian Delta, in alliance with the
Libyans, dates to the fifth year of the reign of Merenptah (1213-1203 BC)... According to
Merenptah's reliefs on one of the walls of the temple of Amun at Karnak... he successfully
repelled them, killing 6,000 and routing the rest.’ However, the final conflict with these
bedraggled climate refugees occurred in the eighth regnal year of Rameses III, with the
combined land and sea victories of the king being celebrated in his great residential temple
complex at Medinet Habu.

Thus it can bee seen that, although domestic security and regional stability were certainly
factors in the outward reach of the nation's traders, rulers, and bureaucrats, Shaw posits that
'[t]he history of Egypt's contact with the outside world is above all concerned with power and
prestige.’ Indeed, he writes, 'the principal motivation appears to have been to obtain rare or
exotic materials and products that could serve to bolster the power base of the individuals or
groups concerned.’ Nevertheless, claims Shaw, '[i]t was not... simply a question of importing
materials and commodities into Egypt. There also appears to have been a steady influx of

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people, as well as linguistic and cultural influences, leading to the creation of a distinctly
cosmopolitan and multicultural civilization from at least the New Kingdom onwards. However,
and despite the growing presence of foreigners, their culture, and their offspring within the
borders of Egypt itself, the national identity was apparently strong enough to withstand, and in
most cases, to absorb the various external influences that penetrated its borders. This speaks
volumes, both about the essentially practical nature of the Egyptians themselves as a people, as
well as about the fundamental resilience and integrity of their unique language, culture, and
way of life.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Temple of Abu Simbel

112
Gigantic seated stone statues of Rameses II (r. 1279-1213 BCE) at Abu Simbel

Interior of the Temple of Hathor at Abu Simbel

113
A closeup view of the shattered statue at Abu Simbel

114
A view of the inner hall in the temple of Rameses II at Abu Simbel, showing six of the eight full-
length statues of the king in Osirid form

115
A closeup view of the one of the painted statues of Rameses II with the attributes of the god Osiris,
legendary first king of Egypt’s primordial age

116
A detail from one the many murals that cover the inner chambers
of the temple of Rameses II at Abu Simbel

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 THE
THIRD
INTERMEDIATE
PERIOD

(c. 1069-664 BC)

118
 According to Egyptologist John Taylor, 'The Third Intermediate Period [c. 1069-664 BC]
was inaugurated by a major political upheaval and a weakening of the economy.’ Indeed,
continues Taylor, ‘...civil war fomented by Panehesy, the viceroy of Kush, shook the country,
and his subsequent defeat and expulsion beyond the southern frontier amounted to only a
partial victory for the government.’ Furthermore, he avers, '...control over the resources of the
southlands -the gold mines and the lucrative trade in the products of sub-Saharan Africa- was
lost. Hence, at the very outset of the period, Egypt suffered a serious reduction in revenue from
its former dependencies.’ Thus, having seen the power and prestige of successive pharaohs
eroded and usurped by local political bosses, as well as by the high priests of the cult of Amun
at Karnak, civil war on the southern border of the country marked the precipitous decline and
eventual disappearance of the 20th Dynasty from Egypt’s socio-political landscape.

With the death of Rameses XI, c. 1069 BC, the 20th Dynasty ceased to exist. However,
writes Taylor, 'the foundations of a new power structure were already in place, and transition to
a new regime occurred smoothly.’ Indeed, he continues, ‘Under the 21st Dynasty Egypt was- to
outward appearances- politically united, but in reality control was divided between a line of
kings in the north and a sequence of army commanders, who also held the post of high priest of
Amun, at Thebes.’ This bi-partite power structure allowed certain remnants of direct pharaonic
rule to continue, seemingly unbroken, while actual power was increasingly held by various
army commanders and the elite of the priestly caste at Thebes.

'After the reigns of Smendes and his son Amenemnisu (1043-1039 BC),' writes John Taylor,
'the throne in the north passed to Psusennes I, son of the Theban commander Pinudjem I, and
control of Upper Egypt to his brother Menkheperra.’ This was to make for a moment of both
national and familial stability, as Taylor observes that '...for a time, the same Theban line
governed all Egypt, and amicable relations between the north and the south were maintained
through the intermarriage of several members of the rulers' extensive families.’ It is perhaps no
mere coincidence, therefore, that the reign of Psusennes I lasted nearly fifty years, nor that his
tomb at Tanis, discovered by French Egyptologist Pierre Montet in 1939, held such a large trove

119
of truly precious and exquisite funeral equipment and related treasures, given the apparent
political and social stability of this important sub-period in Egyptian history.

Roughly fifty years after the death of Psusennes, however, according to Taylor, 'The attempt to
exert direct royal control over the whole of Egypt involved curtailing the virtually independent
status of Thebes,’ a bastion of priestly power that had formerly been seen as co-equal to that of
the pharaohs during the time of the priest-king Pinedjem I (r. 1070-1032 BC). In pursuit of this
aim, observes Taylor, '… the post of high priest of Amun was handed to one of Sheshonq's sons,
Prince Iuput, who was also army commander- a policy followed by subsequent pharaohs,’
thereby uniting the sacerdotal and regal functions, but this time firmly under the renewed
control of the latter entity.

The 22nd Dynasty of Egyptian kings were all from a family of Libyan mercenaries who
managed to gain control of the levers of power after the death of Psusennes II in 945 BC. The
founder of this dynasty, Sheshonq I (r. 945-924 BC) was the son-in-law of Psusennes II, as well
as commander -in-chief of all the armies of Egypt. According to Peter Clayton, ‘In the Theban
records, he is noted as Great Chief of the Meshwesh, who were originally recruited from Libyan
tribes as an internal police force.’ This usurpation of the royal power by the military is certainly
not unknown in world history, but for a person of essentially foreign origin such as Sheshonq to
mount the throne of Egypt was an exceptional move by any standard, for previous royal families
had generally had a fairly low regard for incoming foreigners, whatever their degree of personal
accomplishment or brilliance.

However, once seated upon the throne of Egypt, ties of family relationship and royal
patronage were employed to maintain the hegemony of the Libyan kings over their extended
family, as well as over their bureaucrats 'in country,' and thus, over their native Egyptian
subjects themselves. Taylor observes that '[M]embers of the royal family and supporters of the
dynasty were also appointed to important offices, and loyalty on the part of local power-holders
was encouraged by marriages to daughters of the royal house.’ Indeed, according to Taylor,

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'Efforts to consolidate the unity of the realm continued under Sheshonq's successors, but the
growing power of provincial rulers led to the weakening of royal control and a consequent
fragmentation of the country.’ Furthermore, '[t]he appointment of close relatives to important
posts in major centres such as Memphis and Thebes,' observes Taylor, 'failed to halt the
growing independence of the provinces, and indeed probably accelerated the process,’ as
perhaps these family members themselves became more and more inclined to gather power
into their own hands, rather than radiate it back to the royal center-point from which it had
initially originated.

The ethno-political geography of Egypt during the Third Intermediate Period presents a
rather striking division of power and influence between the incoming Libyan conquerors in the
North and the polities and power bases formed by the native Egyptian high priests and military
strongmen of the South. 'Control of the North,' writes Taylor, 'was almost entirely in the hands
of the Libyans... the Meshwesh occupied the principal towns of the central and eastern zones
[of the Delta]. The main influx of the Libu perhaps occurred later than that of the Meshwesh,
and hence they settled on the less profitable western edge, around Imau.’ Perhaps more
significant still, however, is what was to be the longer-term destiny of the Libu: 'They ultimately
founded the dynasty of Sais [in 664 BC],’ a family line which was to expel yet another set of
regal foreign interlopers, this time originating in the area around the country’s southern border.

The key to the question of ethnic division in Egypt during the Third Intermediate Period
thus lies in the distinct cleavage that exists between the documentary and inscriptional
evidence regarding the respective populations of the North and those of the South. 'Underlying
the political north-south divide,' observes Taylor, 'was an ethnic division. The evidence of
names, titles, and genealogies reveals the population of the north as predominantly Libyan and
that of the south as Egyptian,’ demonstrating that the truly effective hegemony of the Libyans
was restricted to those areas closest to their original homeland in North Africa, whereas the
southern hinterland of the Nile Valley kingdom remained largely intact as a bastion of native
Egyptian power and influence.

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 What is obvious, however, is that the rule of the Libyans, circumscribed as it might in
reality have been, depended on more than simple family ties to ensure its potency. During the
course of the Third Intermediate Period, 'The heavy concentration of troops along the Nile,'
avers Taylor, 'may have had its origins in the Libyan chiefs' determination to enforce their rule
over Egypt.’ What is perhaps even more significant is that there can be no other explanation for
many of the fortresses that were constructed so far from border lands as to be useless in time of
invasion. ''Thebes' well-documented resistance to external control [],’ writes Taylor, ‘probably
accounts for the siting of 21st Dynasty fortresses at such southerly locations as Qus and Gebelein,
where they could scarcely have have served to guard against attack from outside the Nile
Valley.’ Here can be seen strong evidence of what was essentially an ancient ‘police state,’ one
which relied on military control and the force of compulsion to effect its control of the native
population, while it also relied on strategic marriages to cement its hold on the civil
administration of the country from its power bases in the north.

One significant knock-on effect of the Libyans' need to exercise direct military control
over their Egyptian population was that any serious attempt to pursue an expansionist foreign
policy ended, in all likelihood, before it had even started. 'Under a progressively decentralized
regime,' observes Taylor, 'and with a substantial part of the available military force required to
keep order within Egypt, the concentration of military efforts and economic resources
necessary to pursue a consistent expansionist policy abroad probably could not be achieved.’
Gone were the days of Thutmose III and Rameses II, both of whom had pushed the borders of
Egypt well beyond their traditional limits; the military energies and bellicose resources of the
Libyan pharaohs were exclusively focused on merely maintaining their control over those
whom they already ruled, at least in name.

The succeeding dynasty, the 23rd, was also comprised largely of Libyan kings, and its time
on the throne witnessed the further and progressive fracturing of the Egyptian state, which led
to petty kinglets ruling from various spheres of control throughout the country. This
culminated in the conquest of the entire country by the so-called ‘Black Pharaohs,’ Kushite

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kings of the southern region of Nubia who managed to subdue and rule Egypt for roughly a
century, starting with Piankhi in 747 BC.

'The fundamental basis of Kushite rule,' claims Taylor, 'was military power.’ In this, of
course, they were quite similar to the Libyan pharaohs, as the latter had also relied on military
might to exert control over the ancient Nile Valley population during the previous age, one that
had witnessed their rise to power, their hegemony, and their eventual overthrow by the Kushite
pharaohs. However, despite their status as foreign invaders, the Kushite pharaohs actually
maintained a high degree of respect for Egyptian culture and religion, as much of their own set
of beliefs, values, and way of life had initially sprung from those of their northern neighbors.

'In spite of … divergences from Egyptian norms, however,' claims Taylor, 'the Kushite
rulers sought to strengthen their legitimacy by posing as champions of ancient tradition... [I]n
this way the Kushite pharaohs could associate themselves directly with the great rulers of the
Old Kingdom.’ Indeed, Taylor observes succinctly that '[a]s part of their drive to obtain
legitimacy as pharaohs, the Kushite rulers evinced deep respect for Egyptian religious
traditions,’ thus allowing them to sway the hearts and minds of their conquered subjects, at
least in the short term. Nevertheless, external pressures on the fragile polity that the Kushite
kings had managed to create finally came to a head in the time of the last Nubian pharaoh,
Tanutamani (r. 664-656 BC), whose reign witnessed both an Assyrian invasion from the north,
as well as the rise of a competing dynast from the Delta city of Sais, Psamtik I (r. 664-610 BC).

Because 'their authority as overlords enabled them to adopt a more active policy with
regard to the Levant than had any of the Libyan kings since Sheshonq I,’ writes John Taylor, ‘the
Kushite rulers fell into conflict with the kings of Assyria.’ Subsequently, according to Taylor,
‘[A]n army composed of Egyptians and Nubians advanced into southern Palestine in support of
Hezekiah of Judah,’ and later incursions by the pharaonic forces, deployed in favor of various
local princes, aroused the ire of King Esarhaddon of Assyria. 'Thus provoked,' writes Taylor, 'the
Assyrian king Esarhaddon turned his attention to the conquest of Egypt.’ The results were

123
disastrous for the Kushite king, Taharqo (r. 690-664 BC), avers Taylor: 'Memphis was captured,
and Taharqo fled to Nubia, leaving his wife and sons as captives in the hands of the conquerors.’
A yet further invasion by the Assyrians in 667 BC, under Ashurbanipal, son of Esarhaddon,
drove Taharqo once more into Nubia, and the Saite prince Nekau was appointed governor of
Memphis, and was empowered by the Assyrians to rule as their vassal. Tanuntamani, the
successor of Taharqo, attacked Egypt from Nubia, but was eventually repulsed and driven back,
like his uncle, to Napata, with the Assyrians advancing deep into Upper Egypt and sacking
Thebes itself. It was Psamtik, son of Nekau, however, who would eventually come to rule the
entirety of Egypt as the greatest king of the 26th Dynasty.

Despite the turmoil and internal strife that helped to bring it about, the Third
Intermediate Period was to witness a rebirth of the fine arts, as well as a return to something
akin to the splendors of previous ‘golden ages’ of Egyptian art and culture, such as those of the
18th and 19th dynasties. However, 'Perhaps the most lasting contribution of the Third
Intermediate Period to the arts and crafts,' claims Taylor, 'lay in the field of metalworking.’ 'The
silver coffins of kings Psusennes I and Sheshonq II, and the wide range of gold and silver vessels
and jewellery from the Tanite royal tombs,' he continues, 'testify to the continued expertise of
Egyptian metalworkers, although foreign influence is occasionally apparent in the shapes and
decoration of vessels... These pieces were often exquisitely finished, and brilliant effects were
achieved through the embellishment of the surfaces with strands of precious metal hammered
into channels in the bronze.’ Thus, in spite of the uncertainty and civil strife which shadowed
much of the four centuries of this extended period of disruption and transition, the strong
millennial inclination of the Egyptians toward the creation of truly splendid and innovative
works in the realm of the visual arts survived, giving future generations a chance to marvel at
both their high degree of skill and their seemingly endless power of inventiveness.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Third
Intermediate Period

(ca. 1069-664 BC)

125
 Gold funerary mask of Psusennes I (r. 1039-991 BCE),
discovered at Tanis in 1939 by the French archaeologist Pierre Montet

126
A black stone portrait of Psusennes I from the same period

127
A striking and highly detailed gilded funerary mask of the same period

128
 A gold bracelet of lapis lazuli, carnelian, and faience,
found in the tomb of the 22nd dynasty king Sheshonq II (r. ca. 890) at Tanis

129
 THE
LATE
PERIOD

(664-332 BC)

130
 Although previously viewed as a period of relatively little interest, and as constituting at
best what has been called 'the last gasp of a once great culture, recent decades of scholarly
research and inquiry have revealed the Late Period (c. 664-332 BC) to have been a time of great
continuity and achievement, despite the conquest and domination of the country by the forces
of the Persian Empire at two separate junctures (namely between 525-404 BC, and 343-332 BC,
respectively). In addition, and thanks largely to a multiplicity of sources from outside the
country (chiefly documents and inscriptions from places such as Greece, Persia, and Assyria),
scholars who focus on this period of Egyptian history are afforded a far broader and more
complete view of events, conditions, and developments that unfolded within the borders of the
late pharaonic polity, and can thus present a far more balanced picture of the Nile Valley
kingdom as a whole between the mid-seventh and the mid-fourth centuries BC.

The opening chapter of this minor renaissance in the fortunes of a united Egypt came with
the rise of the 26th Dynasty, which ruled the country from the ancient city of Sais, in the Nile
Delta region. 'The Saite reunification of Egypt in the mid-650s BC,' writes Alan B. Lloyd,
'reversed a long-running trend in the country's history in that all recent precedents pointed
imperiously to continued fragmentation punctuated by bouts of foreign domination.’
Previously, due to the relative state of fragmentation of the country, 'Libyan princelings had
experienced little difficulty in getting their hands on the royal office, thus creating a sequence
of dynasties of varying efficiency,’ observes Lloyd. 'Although the 25th Dynasty [that of the so-
called 'Nubian' pharaohs] started well,' he continues, 'it ended with the country suffering
severely from the Assyrian invasions of 671 and 663 BC.’ Thus it can be seen that a variety of
regional powers, Nubians from the south, as well as Assyrians from the Levant, viewed Egypt as
being in a highly reduced condition, and therefore fair game for any conqueror who could
manage to overcome it whilst it was in such a fractured and parlous state.

What these competing regional powers did not take into consideration, however, was the
genuinely unifying power of Egypt's socio-religious ideology of pharaonic centrality, which
required of any ruler that he should carry out his mandate in strict accordance with the

131
millennial traditions that flowed directly from the nation's storied past. 'The credit for
reunifying Egypt,' writes Lloyd, 'falls to Psamtek I (664-610 BC), whose father Nekau I (672-664
BC) had previously ruled at Sais under Assyrian protection and had been killed for his pains by
the Nubian King Tanutamani (664-656 BC) in 664 BC.’ When Psamtek succeeded his father as
ruler in Sais, claims Lloyd, '[t]he Assyrians evidently saw this development as a continuation of
the old system of rule through local princes,’ but 'with typical Saite strategic acumen, it did not
take Psamtek long to exploit [a]situation’ that revealed the Assyrians to have been severely
hobbled by 'pressing commitments elsewhere in the Empire.’ Within a few years, and with the
help of King Gyges of Lydia (687-652 BC), Psamtek managed to gain control over the entirety of
Egypt by 656 BC, thereby embarking on a highly successful reign of more than forty-five years
as the paramount ruler of a newly-resplendent Egyptian kingdom.

'The economy,' writes Lloyd, 'was an equally important focus of Saite policy in
reconstructing Egypt.’ Of the achievement of the 26th Dynasty in this domain, the Greek
historian Herodotus (c. 484-425 BC) writes thus: 'It is said that it was during the reign of
Ahmose II [r. 570-526 BC] that Egypt attained its highest level of prosperity both in respect of
what the river gave the land and in respect of what the land yielded to men and that the
number of inhabited cities at that time reached 20,000.’ 'Trade,' avers Lloyd, 'was also greatly
encouraged.’ Indeed, the efforts of some of the rulers to provide infrastructure conducive to the
expansion of international trade were both far-reaching and visionary. 'Nekau II (r. 610-595 BC),’
he observes, ‘at the very least began to construct a canal running from the Nile to the Red Sea,
an activity that must indicate a revival of economic activity in the Red Sea area, which had been
a major focus of commercial concern in earlier dynasties.’ Despite such evidence of pharaonic
commitment to the economic well-being of his subjects, the ideological component of the
broader social compact that had been operative in Egypt since the Pre-Dynastic Period
remained a key source of stability and community throughout the Late Period.

Of the aforementioned pivotal component, Lloyd writes, 'There must always be an

ideological underpinning that is acceptable to the subject people. In Egypt the basis for this had

132
always been the concept of divine kingship that gave the pharaoh a clearly defined and
universally accepted role, not only in the governance of the kingdom but in the very
maintenance of the cosmos itself.’ It can thus be seen that, although they might perhaps have
possessed superior military power on the ground, the absentee Assyrian monarchs could never
hope to capture the loyalty of the Egyptian people in the same way that a native ruler could, for
only such a man could sincerely and completely perform both the terrestrial and the cosmic
duties required of one who bore the full weight of the Double Crown. Indeed, as Lloyd observes,
'[T]o be a legitimate pharaoh it was essential to act legitimately.’ Therefore, as such
performative requirements could never be met by a 'part-time' or 'itinerant' pharaoh, only a
true 'Son of Ra' could adequately perform all that was required of him, in order to stabilize both
his kingdom and the intricate workings of the wider universe.

Clearly, with regard to the initiative and vision that he displayed throughout the course of
his long reign, Psamtek I was a remarkable character, for '[h]e was undertaking one of the most
critical roles of kingship, donning the mantle of Menes and Mentuhotep II: he was unifying the
country and restoring the proper order of things, the state of being that the Egyptians called
maat.’ However, mere words were not sufficient to ensure the successful regeneration of the
Egyptian realm; 26th Dynasty rulers also enshrined their feelings of piety through the creation
and restoration of religious spaces throughout the kingdom. 'Both Psamtek and his successors,'
avers Lloyd, 'engaged in architectural work on sacred installations to express their devotion and
maintain the goodwill and support of the gods.’ Indeed, according to Lloyd, 'Saite rulers did
everything they could to fulfil this part of the agenda of kingship.’ Nor was Sais itself the only
beneficiary of the royal largesse, for '[w]e also hear, ' writes Lloyd, '… of Ahmose... working at
Philae, Elephantine, Nebesha, Abydos, and the oases... while he also made contributions to
earlier structures on many other sites, including Karnak, Mendes, the Tanta area.. and Edfu.’
There was thus no lack of zeal on the part of such rulers, who apparently attached immense
importance to fulfilling their responsibilities as protectors and perpetuators of the cults of the
kingdom's various key deities.

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 Despite the clear preoccupation of the Saite kings with the health of the various divine cults
throughout their kingdom, as well as with its now- flourishing economy, 'we cannot be far
wrong in assuming that the major issue for the rulers of this period was the task of keeping the
frontiers of Egypt free from foreign invaders,’ avers Lloyd. Although the threat from Nubia
could never be ignored, '[t]he most critical area was Asia,' Lloyd writes, 'where initially the
problem was the defence of Egypt's border against a possible renewal of Assyrian attempts to
gain control of Egypt, but difficulties much closer to their homeland made this impossible for
the Assyrians to achieve.’ The threat from Assyria was later to be largely eliminated by an
alliance with that empire by Psamtek late in his reign, circa 616 BC. What this alliance
engendered, however, was the enmity and active hostility of the Chaldaeans, who remained
Egypt's chief enemy until the end of the 26th Dynasty. However, it was another power of the
ancient Near East, the Persian Empire, whose ambitions were to prove fatal to the last of the
Saite rulers, Psamtek III (r. 526-525 BC).

'Egypt's confrontation with Persia,' observes Lloyd, 'came to a head with the invasion of
Egypt in 525 BC, which led to the defeat and capture of Psamtek III by Cambyses II (r. 525-522
BC) at the Battle of Pelusium.’ At this juncture, the various sources diverge in their treatment of
the Achaemenid rule over Egypt; the comments that spring from the classical sources are highly
unfavorable to the Persians, but Lloyd writes that 'the Egyptian evidence depicts a ruler anxious
to avoid offending Egyptian susceptibilities and presenting himself as an Egyptian king in all
respects.’ The inscriptional evidence of the time, claims LLoyd, shows us that 'in the first place,
Cambyses had assumed at least the forms of Egyptian kingship; second he was perfectly
prepared to work with and promote native Egyptians to assist in government; and third, he
showed a deep respect for native Egyptian religion.’ Nevertheless, and despite such apparent
manifestation of goodwill on the part of Cambyses, as soon as he had died, a revolt against
Persian rule erupted across the country; only in 519/518 BC was Cambyses' successor, Darius
(522-486 BC) able to regain control over the entirety of the Two Lands.

Darius was to pursue a similar policy of paying respect to Egyptian religious sensibilities, as

134
well as to the general excellence of the native Egyptian system of administration; with the
exception of the installation of a Persian satrap at the top of the socio-political pyramid, the
Achaemenid rulers did little to dismantle, and indeed much to support, the indigenous systems
of governance that they had found in place upon their defeat and capture of Psamtek III in 525
BC. Nevertheless, Lloyd observes cannily that '[w]hile the Great King might be presented for
ideological purposes as pharaoh, he was an absentee landlord based in Iran and could not fail to
appear to many as a token pharaoh only.’ Once again, the deeply sacred nature of the duties
associated with a genuinely divine kingship in Egypt can be seen to require the active and
consistent participation of a monarch who is empowered to carry out these duties on both the
terrestrial and the cosmic planes of existence.

The first period of Persian domination came to an end with the rise of the sole king of the
native 28th Dynasty, Amyrtaios (r. 404-399 BC), who was followed by the rulers of another
indigenous family, those of the 29th Dynasty (r. 399-380 BC). 'The grizzly panorama of intra-
and inter-familial strife,' writes Lloyd, 'emerges with stark clarity in the case of the 29th and 30th
Dynasties. In the murky history of these two families we are confronted with a situation that we
can only suspect for earlier Egyptian history but that, we can be confident, was not infrequently
lurking behind the ideological mirage projected by the pharaonic inscriptional evidence.' For
the 29th Dynasty,' he continues 'our evidence is far from full, but it demonstrates unequivocally
that almost every ruler had a short reign and suggests that all of them, with the exception of
Hakor (393-380 BC), may have been deposed, sometimes probably worse.’ When it comes to the
following dynasty, the 30th, however, the sources, according to Lloyd, are 'particularly revealing.’

'The founder [of the 30th Dynasty],' writes Lloyd, '[was] Nectanebo I (380-362 BC), a general
and apparently a member of a military family, [who] almost certainly came to the throne as the
result of a military coup.’ Despite this ruler's precautions regarding his own posterity, 'which
motivated him in establishing his successor Teos (r. 362-360 BC) as co-regent before his own
death in order to strengthen the chances of a smooth succession,’ claims Lloyd, such a move
was to 'avail[] him nothing, because Teos was deposed' by his cousin, Nectanebo II (r. 360-343

135
BC). The latter, in a sign that Egypt was perhaps coming more and more to occupy not only a
place in the Nile Valley of Africa, nor simply a central role in the broader world of the ancient
Levant, but also in the larger Mediterranean world, called upon the Spartan king Agesilaus II (fl.
c. 443-360 BC) to aid him in his rebellion against Teos, to which Agesilaus agreed.

Under the 30th Dynasty, according to Lloyd, '[s]ervice to the gods is also a recurrent feature...
In the Hermopolis stele of Nectanebo I the traditional reciprocal relationship relationship
between gods and the king is asserted; the king makes offerings to Thoth and Nehmetawy in
return for the support that he believes they gave him in gaining control of the kingdom.’ Thus,
writes Lloyd, 'There is surely no reason to argue that these ancient concepts had lost any of
their force to motivate a ruler or to deny the sincerity of the gratitude expressed by
reciprocating the beneficence of the gods.’ This salient observation does much to dispel the
notion of Egyptian institutions and religious beliefs as having been in decline during this period,
and does much to reinforce the view of the mid-fourth century polity as being a genuine
continuation of the trajectory of Egypt's previous three millennia of recorded history.

'When we turn to foreign policy,' avers Lloyd, 'the dominant consideration is Persia, for
which the loss of Egypt was never – and could not be – an accomplished fact.’ Matters closer to
home, however, conspired to keep the Persians' attentions away from any active attempts at the
reconquest of Egypt until about 374/3 BC, when Artaxerxes II (r. 405-359 BC) undertook a
campaign to recover the country. During these years, the Egyptians fought when they
absolutely had to, used foreign mercenaries (such as the Greeks and the Libyans) whenever
possible, and often resorted to buying off their Persian aggressors, all in an attempt to assure
both their independence and their freedom to defend themselves. In the interim, they perhaps
hoped against hope that circumstances in the Middle East might one day shift markedly in their
favor, thanks to their rulers' exemplary devotion to (and material support of) the nation's key
divine cults.

Such propitious circumstances were not to arise, however, and as Lloyd observes, '[t]he re-

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establishment of Persian control of Egypt, which was completed no later than 341 BC, was
attended by plundering of temples and a policy of consolidation that took the form of
demolishing the defences of major cities and setting up once more a Persian provincial
administration.’ Significant revolts of the local populace followed, for the result of this re-
installation of Persian control, claims LLoyd, had been 'a regime of recurrent viciousness and
incompetence that soon raised the level of disaffection to the point of armed rebellion.’ Indeed,
as he later observes, '[i]t comes as no surprise, therefore, that, when Alexander the Great
invaded the country late in 332 BC, he had no difficulty in quickly terminating the hated rule of
the Persians,’ for the latter had so thoroughly and bitterly alienated whatever grudging respect
the Egyptian might once have had for these foreign conquerors.

'[T]he three centuries preceding the invasion of Egypt by Alexander the Great (332-323 BC),
Lloyd posits, 'were centuries of no mean achievement,’ This fact is often overlooked, even today,
by those who perhaps inadvertently minimize both the importance of the age, as well as its
significant successes. 'Although the country was twice subjected to Persian domination,' claims
Lloyd, 'it still succeeded in maintaining its independence for long periods against powerful
enemies, and made a major impact on the course of the interminable Near Eastern power
struggle as well as asserting its interests on the Upper Nile.’ Despite 'oscillation between
rebellion, independence, and occupation,' Lloyd writes, ‘none of this furious endeavour leads to
any abatement in the vitality of Egyptian cultural life.’ On the contrary, he claims, 'more than
enough [evidence] survives to reveal a society that was powerfully aware of its past while
exploring new ways or, at least, insisting on finding its own points of cultural emphasis.
Wherever we look, we are confronted by a powerful current of continuity united with a vital
evolutionary dynamic,’ neither of which is a typical hallmark of a culture in chaos, or in a state
of disintegration.

Thus, although Egyptian civilization during the Late Period can doubtless be said to have
already been quite ancient, it should certainly never be viewed as having been in any way
decrepit or in decline. During the course of mankind's recorded history, many a truly noble and

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sophisticated civilization has been undone or has fallen, not necessarily due to its own
decadence, or to the concomitant rise of a 'superior' culture, but simply due to the ineluctable
power of an entirely aleatory combination: that of time and of circumstances.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The
Temple of Karnak

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Colossal entrance pylon to the Temple of Amun at Karnak, flanked by a row of cryo-sphinxes,
which represent the god in animal form

140
An enormous stone pillar, located within the first forecourt
of the Temple of Amun at Karnak

141
View of some pillar and wall fragments from one of the inner courtyards of the Temple of Amun at
Karnak

142
 View from within the massive hypostyle hall at Karnak,
with multi-colored beam inscriptions still clearly visible above

143
Another view of the massive stone pillar from the first forecourt of the temple

144
 THE
PTOLEMAIC
PERIOD

(332-30 BC)

145
 The Ptolemaic Period (c. 332-30 BC), which witnessed the subjugation, administration,
and exploitation of the country by a Macedonian Greek dynasty founded by Ptolemy I Soter
(305-285 BC), a general of Alexander the Great (r. 332-323 BC), lasted roughly three centuries,
and was characterized by a delicately balanced and quite remarkable compromise between two
cultures with considerably different core values and ways of life. 'Differing in ethos, focus, and
aspiration,' writes Alan. B. Lloyd, 'these cultures initially maintained a wary coexistence, in
which convenience and the balance of power generated a viable degree of cooperation usually
sufficiently effective to mask their mutual distaste.’ That such an arrangement should have
subsisted for so long is surprising, especially given its punctuations by repeated bouts of
political instability and socio-economic turmoil, both engendered largely by the dynasty's
inability to sufficiently regulate its own internal family affairs. Add to the latter situation the
highly fraught regional politics of the age, and it becomes clear that the Ptolemies were not
only supremely fortunate to have inherited the prestigious and quasi-magical mantle of
Alexander the Great in the first place, but they also seem to have been immensely lucky to have
successfully persisted in power for so very long, particularly under tricky circumstances quite
similar to those that had so quickly swept away their bellicose and equally unwanted royal
predecessors, the Achaemenid Persians.

The template for the Macedonian hegemony in Egypt had been laid down by its conqueror,
Alexander, prior to his departure in 331 BC, in search of more territory, greater glory, and yet
more portable treasure. Before he left Egypt forever, Alexander was careful to establish his
kingship in a manner that would be immediately recognizable and acceptable to the vast
majority of his new subjects. 'Alexander had himself crowned in the temple of Ptah at
Memphis,' writes Lloyd, 'thereby firmly asserting that he was assuming the mantle of an
Egyptian pharaoh.’ Lloyd then underscores the most important element of such an act on the
part of the Macedonian conqueror: '[T]here is no doubt at all that he was conceptualized in
those terms by the Egyptians, who gave him a standard royal titulary, and that he showed great
respect for Egyptian religious sensibilities.’ Thus, Alexander's well-known sense of his own
destiny seems to have worked hand-in-hand with the socio-political exigencies of the moment

146
to create a sacral act in the traditional Egyptian manner that was both genuine and highly
utilitarian.

In the years following the death of Alexander in 323 BC, writes Lloyd, 'major sections of the
empire were... allocated by Perdiccas [its regent] to Alexander's marshals, and in this division,
Ptolemy, son of Lagos, acquired Egypt.’ However, a 'War of the Successors' followed, which
essentially pointed to the key element of this late fourth century BC version of 'Game of
Thrones.' 'The underlying psychological motivation,' avers Lloyd, 'lay where we should expect it
to lie in any Graeco-Macedonian context- that is, in an invincible impetus to self-assertion that
would, in turn, generate prestige.’ It was this headlong pursuit of power, prestige, and pre-
eminence that would propel the entirety of the Ptolemaic enterprise in Egypt throughout its
three centuries of existence, and which would eventually lead to its utter destruction at the
hands of the equally driven, but far more canny and pragmatic young Roman aristocrat,
Octavian, in 30 BC.

Lloyd writes with considerable insight about the Ptolemies' seemingly endless quest for
prestige. 'Certainly,' he observes, 'military conquest was a major means of achieving this, but
the creation of a kingdom of unequalled splendour was equally important and could absorb an
enormous amount of effort and resources.’ Thus the stage was set, both for expensive military
ventures abroad, and for the type of lavish spending on cultural and artistic initiatives for which
the Ptolemies were to become, quite rightly, rather renowned in the ancient world. The former
activities frequently involved foreign mercenaries, and this represented a considerable strain on
the kingdom's finances throughout its history. 'The cost of funding such a large mercenary
force,' avers Lloyd, 'was clearly a heavy drain on the resources of the Crown, which could only
be met if the economy of the country was functioning perfectly.’ This, of course, necessitated a
stable and well-organized central government, which was frequently elusive during the periods
of internecine conflict that punctuated the entirety of the Ptolemies' administration of the Nile
Valley polity. Indeed, according to Lloyd, 'the internal disruptions that rose thick and fast after
the death of Ptolemy IV [i.e., after 205 BC] were bound to impair the ability of the rulers of

147
Egypt to maintain such troops.’ Add to the former situation the necessity to maintain amicable
relations with the all-important Egyptian priesthoods throughout the land, largely through
donations of land, commodities, and privileges, and what arises before our eyes is the image of
a kingdom precariously balanced on a proverbial knife-edge, and in some instances, one that is
perhaps only a single bad harvest away from social and political disintegration.

The centerpiece of the Ptolemaic bid to dominate the socio-political chessboard of the
ancient Mediterranean and Middle Eastern regions was the city of Alexandria. 'Founded by
Alexander in 331 BC,' writes Lloyd, 'this city became the Ptolemaic capital and was vigorously
exploited from the beginning of the period as the major showcase for Ptolemaic wealth and
splendour and by the same token as the most significant non-military means by which the
Ptolemies could vie with and surpass their rivals. It quickly became the most spectacular city in
the Hellenistic world.’ Possessing and embellishing such an indisputable jewel meant
consistently and convincingly displaying Ptolemaic power and pre-eminence on every level,
architectural, artistic, institutional, and academic; its famed library, observes Lloyd, 'provided a
superb context for the pursuit of scholarship and scientific enquiry.’ In order to maintain this
ongoing exercise in splendour, these non-native monarchs needed desperately to maintain their
own legitimacy as rulers of the land, both in the Macedonian context, as a 'spear-won' territory
backed by a divine familial relationship (in this case, via Zeus), and also according to the native
Egyptian notion of kingship, which required that they should be seen as terrestrial 'intercessors'
with the gods on behalf of their people.

In order to fully acquit themselves of their above-mentioned role as semi-divine advocates

for their people within the sacred context, the Ptolemies enlisted the aid of the powerful and
omnipresent corps of the Egyptian priesthood, whose thousands of members occupied temples
and shrines throughout the length and breadth of the Nile Valley. '[A]ll... temples in the land
continued to carry out their ancient function as the power houses of Egypt,' writes Lloyd, 'the
interface between the human and the divine in which pharaoh, through his proxy, the local
high priest, concluded the critical rituals of maintenance for the gods, and the gods, in turn,

148
channelled their life-giving power through pharaoh into Egypt.’ This symbiotic relationship
between the pharaonic power of the Ptolemies and the religious power of the priesthoods of the
various cults throughout the country also served to maintain a crucial balance between the
Macedonian and the Egyptian sides of the broader socio-political equation, as the high priests,
especially those in the smaller communities spread throughout the country, were
predominantly native Egyptians, whereas the upper ranks of the pharaonic civil administration
were filled mainly by members of the Graeco-Macedonian élite.

The colossal expenses incurred in the projection and maintenance of Ptolemaic power and
prestige soon began to weigh on the precariously balanced hybrid polity, however, leading to
chronic instability and disaffection throughout the kingdom. 'In Egypt outside Alexandria,'
observes Lloyd, 'the political situation rapidly deteriorated from the late third century BC
onwards, as the country seethed with internal discord.’ This, however, was not necessarily a
sentiment that had xenophobia or anti-Macedonian impulses at its heart; it may well have been
a species of class resentment that encompassed local native Egyptian élites in its opprobrium,
as much as it did the far-away foreigners in Alexandria. Nevertheless, and with increasing
frequency as the Ptolemaic polity slid into decline, the hatreds of the mob could be aroused to
absolutely fatal lengths, given the appropriate circumstances and opportunity. '[T]he long
conflict between Ptolemy VI and Ptolemy VIII,' claims Lloyd, 'frequently involved the actions of
the mob, and in 80 BC they excelled themselves by assassinating Ptolemy X himself.’ Thus it
can be seen that, by the end of the Ptolemies' rule, Egyptians' belief in the sanctity of these
foreign-race kings, battered as it was by decades of bad governance and precarious living, had
been so eroded by the endemic chaos and violence surrounding them that they did not shrink,
in the final analysis, even from carrying out the murder of an anointed king.

Word of the Ptolemies' tenuous hold on the affections of their people had not failed to
sound in foreign capitals, either, and 'in 48/47 BC,' writes Lloyd, 'their anarchic propensities
reached a crescendo that culminated in the summary destruction of their power by none other
than Julius Caesar.’ In fact, 'All of these internal events,' he avers, 'were played out against the

149
backdrop of growing interventionism by Rome in the eastern Mediterranean.’ In this way, the
power players of ascendent Rome became as well the power brokers of declining Egypt in its
final, waning decades as a major force of the ancient world, a trend which culminated,
according to Lloyd, in 'Rome's involvement in the murderous conflicts between Cleopatra VII
and her brothers Ptolemy XIII and XIV, and ushered in the last phase of Ptolemaic kingship.’
The official end of an independent Egypt came with the naval Battle of Actium in 31 BC, after
which both Queen Cleopatra VII (r. 51-30 BC) and her Roman lover, Mark Antony, committed
suicide, leaving the pharaonic inheritance in the hands of the young Octavian Caesar, nephew
of the great Julius, who is better remembered in history as Rome’s first emperor, Augustus (r. 27
BC-14 AD).

Although the Ptolemaic Period, dominated by its distinctly non-native ruling class and its
seemingly reckless drive to perpetuate its own fragile splendour, does not in any way mark a
high point in Egyptian history or culture, we of the modern world do nonetheless owe a
considerable debt to the rulers of this period. These kings and queens may frequently have been
irresponsible and exploitative rulers of their adopted kingdom, but in their headlong pursuit of
riches and glory they did, perhaps quite accidentally, manage to hand down to future
generations of humanity a matchless artistic and cultural inheritance, one that can still be seen
today in such places as the Temple of Horus at Edfu, the Temple of Isis at Philae, the Temple of
Hathor at Dendara, and in the numerous other examples of Ptolemaic art and architecture that
survive from that period. In this way, perhaps, the Ptolemies did manage to achieve their core
aim, for their considerable legacy is still celebrated and admired to this day in museums,
universities, and libraries throughout our modern world, more than twenty centuries after the
demise of their once-mighty, yet fundamentally flawed foreign dynasty.

150
 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Temple
of Edfu

151
Daybreak at the Ptolemaic temple of Edfu, dedicated to the god Horus

The pylon at Edfu, as seen from the inner courtyard

152
Early morning light streams into the temple of Horus at Edfu

153
One of the massive interior halls of the temple of Horus at Edfu

154
The Macedonian pharaoh Ptolemy VIII Euergetes (r. 170-163/145-116 BCE) is blessed by the
goddesses of Upper and Lower Egypt at Edfu

155
A Ptolemaic pharaoh appears before the gods at Edfu

156
 THE
ROMAN
PERIOD

(30 BC-395 AD)

157
 The Roman Period (c. 30 BC-395 AD), which marks the final phase of the long and
eminently memorable history of ancient Egypt, began in the most striking and unforgettable
fashion possible, with the defeat and death by suicide of the famed Cleopatra VII (r. 51-30 BC)
and her lover, Mark Antony (fl. c. 83-30 BC), a triumvir of Rome, and brother-in-law of their
common nemesis, the young Octavian Caesar. The latter was to go on, under the title of
Augustus, to even greater fame as the founder of the imperial phase of the ancient Roman
polity, and to rule as its primes inter pares between 27 BC and AD 14, while also establishing the
first of its many imperial dynasties, the Julio-Claudian.

The ambitions of both Cleopatra and Antony had been at the crux of a widespread Middle
Eastern and Mediterranean power struggle for a number of years after the assassination of
Julius Caesar in 44 BC, but, writes historian David Peacock, '[t]he issue was finally settled in the
Battle of Actium... and a year later Octavian... entered Egypt for the first and last time. Egypt,
the land of the pharaohs and their Hellenistic successors, the Ptolemies, was now part of the
Roman empire.’ Thus was the once-great kingdom of Narmer, of Senusret III, of Thutmose III,
and of Rameses II now reduced to the rank of a far-flung province of the newly-emergent
Roman Empire. It quickly came to be viewed by its new Latin masters not as a source of cultural
inspiration, as it had been for its Kushite conquerors, nor as a showcase for artistic and
academic excellence, as it had been under the Ptolemies, but merely as a source of various
foodstuffs to feed Rome's growing general population, as well as a place from which to extract
raw materials for the buildings and luxury items that were increasingly craved by the wealthy
and powerful élites of the empire.

Despite this drastic change in its political and economic fortunes, however, Egypt was to
maintain its own culture and way of life throughout the entirety of the Roman occupation, and
would only witness the destruction of that unique and precious culture under the successive
incoming onslaughts of two foreign, monotheistic faiths, Christianity and Islam. 'Egypt,' writes
David Peacock, 'was a land apart- an exotic and distant part of the empire, perhaps more
bizarre than any other province.’ Indeed, avers Peacock, 'Here, pharaonic culture thrived and a

158
visitor to Roman Egypt would have found himself in a time capsule, for the sights, sounds, and
customs of Roman Egypt would have had more in common with pharaonic civilization than
with contemporary Rome.’ The tenacity of such a culture, particularly at a time when the
Mediterranean world was becoming increasingly homogenized, first around a Helleno-Latin
model, and subsequently around a fully Christianized worldview, is all the more remarkable
when we recall that it persisted for over four centuries, until the disestablishment of the
traditional Egyptian temples by a decree of the Christian emperor Theodosius (r. 379-395 AD)
in 394 AD.

From the very start of the Roman occupation, however, it was clear that the way forward was
to be a tricky one, for Egypt, with its heady air of the exotic, mysterious, and the romantic,
represented a culture and a way of life that was, in many ways, the polar antithesis of the
pragmatic and this-worldly approach that was the hallmark of the newly ascendant Latin
culture of the age. '[I]t is [therefore] hardly surprising,' claims Peacock, 'that Rome adopted a
somewhat hostile and suspicious attitude to Egypt.’ This hostility was thinly veiled, and despite
the great value placed on the things that could be brought out of Egypt, the interactions of
Romans with the Egyptians themselves seem to have been strictly regulated in many cases.
'Roman senators, observes Peacock, 'were forbidden to enter the country and native Egyptians
were excluded from the administration.’ Happily, due largely to its arid climate and sandy
terrain, Egypt has in recent decades yielded many papyri and ostraca that reveal the workings
of the administrative components of the Roman Empire, as well as many fine examples of
textiles, basketry, leather, and food remains, all of which provide evidence of a country, and of a
culture, that were truly worlds apart from those of their Latin imperial overlords.

The country, as it functioned on a day-to-day basis under the Romans, was divided into
thirty nomes, administrative centers that had been inherited from the system developed by the
Ptolemies. Each nome had a capital, or metropolis, and each nome boasted a governor, or
strategos, who was answerable to one of four epistrategoi, or regional governors, who
themselves carried out general oversight across the country. These latter were under the overall

159
control of the Prefect, or Governor of Egypt, who functioned in a manner that seems to have
been much akin to that of the Viceroy of India during the height of the British Raj. Of course,
the focus of power in Roman Egypt was most decidedly at the top of the occupiers' newly re-
engineered social pyramid, with the average Egyptian peasant most decidedly at the bottom, as
he had always been; regardless of their social status or income, writes David Peacock, 'all
[Egyptian] males between the ages of 14 and 60 were obliged to pay a poll tax annually.’ Thus,
although the average citizen enjoyed little agency beyond the confines of his own yard, he was
nevertheless expected to contribute directly to the maintenance of the administration of the
Roman occupying forces.

'As in other provinces,' observes Peacock, 'the main agent of control was the army.’ Although
the military was certainly present in considerable numbers throughout Egypt as both a defense
against, and as a deterrent to foreign invasion, Peacock claims that 'a major role of the army
everywhere was to act as a police force.’ This is evident from ostraca that have been unearthed
at various locations throughout the country. ' Movement along desert roads,' avers Peacock,
'seems to have been very strictly controlled, with need for permits, written on an ostracon, or
perhaps sometimes papyrus. Undoubtedly this was a measure to limit the banditry for which
Egypt was notorious.’ Nevertheless, the image of a tightly-controlled police state, similar to that
which can be found in archaeological and documentary evidence from various parts of Roman
Palestine, Libya, and Syria, is a familiar one, which must have made the general population
occasionally somewhat nostalgic for the rather more carefree (albeit frequently chaotic) state of
the country under the Ptolemies.

The Egyptian economy of the Roman Period was centered, as it had been for centuries, on a
handful of basic pursuits, with agriculture playing, as always, a central role. 'There are three
interrelated aspects of the economy of Roman Egypt,' writes Peacock. 'The most important,' he
continues, 'is the agricultural production of the Nile Valley and the Delta.’ From both a socio-
political and logistical viewpoint, this role was perhaps the most essential to the country's
Roman overlords. 'The fecundity of Egypt,' affirms Peacock, 'was well known and the city of

160
Rome relied heavily on the Alexandrian grain ships to feed its teeming population.’ The second
aspect of Rome's endeavors in Egypt centered on mineral extraction, particularly in the Eastern
Desert. 'Here gold had been exploited since pharaonic times,' Peacock writes, 'but during the
Roman period it was also a source of exotic stones such as the granito del foro [literally, “granite
of the Forum”] and imperial prophyry.’ The third aspect of Egypt's centrality to Rome's supply
chain was its role as a hub of trade, via its port of Alexandria, of course, but also as a result of its
direct access to the Mediterranean, via the Red Sea, the latter of which routes led, through
various outposts of the Eastern Desert, on to the Indian Ocean, which provided a marine
gateway to India, Malaysia, and perhaps even to China itself.

When we come to consider instances of cultural hybridization and religio-cultural

syncretism in Roman Egypt, however, we find ourselves on far more slippery and treacherous
ground. 'There can be no aspect of Roman Egypt more complex or more difficult to
understand,' claims Peacock, 'than religion.’ What is perhaps more striking still is the fact that
much of the architectural legacy of Egyptian religion that has come down to us today is not the
product of the height of the independent pharaonic state during its heyday, but rather of its
final two phases of existence, i.e., the Ptolemaic and the Roman periods. 'In effect,' observes
Peacock, 'Rome inherited pharaonic religion, on which a classical gloss had been superimposed,
largely during the preceding Ptolemaic period. Visitors to the ancient temples of Egypt think
that they are looking at masterpieces of the Dynastic era, but in many cases – Dendera, Edfu,
Kom Ombo, Esna, and Philae, for example – the extant structures are substantially Ptolemaic
and Roman.’ Therefore, although some in our modern world might lament the subjugation of
pharaonic civilization under the heavy hand of the Graeco-Macedonian and Roman conquerors,
it is largely to the efforts of the latter to embellish, consolidate, and pacify the country that we
owe the precious opportunity to experience some supreme examples of ancient Egypt's
matchless cultural legacy.

The most significant aspect of Egyptian religion was its fundamental polytheism, which was
also at the heart of the Romans' approach to that pivotal component of commonly-shared

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culture. 'Each of this plethora of [Egyptian] gods had his or her own role to play,' writes
Peacock, 'but the situation is far from simple, because their roles changed through time, and
gods could merge together so as to become all but indistinguishable from one another.’
Following Alexander's successful invasion of Egypt in 332 BC, he claims, '[t]he Greeks identified
their own gods within the Egyptian spectrum.’ The Egyptian gods thereafter, in many cases,
became increasingly Hellenized, until, says Peacock, '[d]uring Ptolemaic times, a new god
called Serapis was invented with the object of giving a greater degree of political and religious
unity.’ 'Unlike the traditional pharaonic-period deity Osirapis,' Peacock specifies, 'he is shown
not as an animal but as a bearded man, not unlike Zeus,’ thus giving him attributes that might
appeal to both native Egyptians and incoming Mediterranean foreigners alike.

Another of the popular gods of the period was Isis, who was both the sister-wife of Osiris,
god of the underworld, and also the mother of Horus, chief protector of the pharaohs. 'Her
role,' observes Peacock, 'was that of a prototype for motherhood and the faithful wife. She was
much adored by women, to whom she was queen of heaven and earth, of life and death.’ What
is perhaps most significant, however, was the vast reach of such cults throughout the immense
Roman empire: 'As in the case of Serapis,' claims Peacock, 'Isis' worshippers were to be found all
over the empire, particularly in Spain,’ not to mention the presence of her cult well into the
southernmost reaches of Upper Nubia itself.

This tolerant and flexible attitude toward religion, which had once characterized much of
the ancient world, was eventually to shift, however, with the rise and eventual triumph of
Christianity. 'Christianity,' writes Peacock, 'was an uncompromising religion that did not see
itself on a par with the others and actively sought to win converts from paganism.’ Furthermore,
according to Peacock, '[T]he major cultural change [of Roman Egypt] took place in the third
century AD, when Christianity gained widespread acceptance, as it did throughout the empire
generally.’ Nevertheless, and despite the demise of the traditional Egyptian way of life under
the hammer blows of Christian monotheism during the later Roman empire, Peacock claims
that'[o]nly in Egypt... is the Roman period an essay in continuity with what went before.’ The

162
reason for such continuity can be found in the most basic of symbols, the architectural legacy of
the land and its people, a legacy which had been wrought over the preceding centuries with the
explicit aim of perpetuating and glorifying pharaonic culture across countless generations into
the future.

These monuments, writes Peacock insightfully, 'served exactly their intended purpose: to
remind people of the greatness of pharaonic civilization and to be a constant witness to the
beliefs and values of that period of Egyptian greatness.’ Enshrouded as they were eventually to
become by the sands of neglect and seemingly unending oblivion, they would awake once more
from their ancient slumbers, however, with the arrival in Egypt of a gloriously new, and yet
strangely familiar type of conqueror: Napoleon Bonaparte. It would be this modern Alexander
who would begin the process of sweeping away the dust of centuries, helping to reveal to the
world the once-forgotten brilliance and enduring historico-cultural legacy of pharaonic Egypt.

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 IMAGE
SPOTLIGHT

The Roman Period

(30 BC- 395 AD)

164
A cartonnage mummy case, featuring a so-called ‘Faiyum portrait,’ showing traditional Egyptian
decorative motifs, as well as a clearly Roman style of portraiture for its ‘mask’

165
 A closeup photo of the portrait included
within the cartonnage casing of the mummiform case

166
The expertly wrapped and decorated mummy
of a young man of Roman Egypt

167
A ‘Faiyum portrait’ of a somber young woman of Roman Egypt,
intended for inclusion with her mummy as its ‘mask’

168
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The
Valley of the Kings

169
Two massive statues of the pharaoh Amenhotep III (r. 1390-1352 BCE) guard the site of his former
mortuary temple, located near the Valley of the Kings on the West Bank of the Nile at Luxor.

170
 A splendidly painted raised relief mural of the pharaoh Merenptah (r. 1213-1204 BCE), son and
immediate successor of Rameses II (r. 1279-1213 BCE), located within the former’s tomb in the
Valley of the Kings. Here he is seen receiving power (was), stability (djed), and life (ankh) from
the scepter of the god Ra-Horakhty.

171
A section of the magnificently painted ceiling of the tomb of Rameses IV (r. 1151-1145 BCE) in the
Valley of the Kings

Another section of the same tomb ceiling

172
A wonderful image from the tomb of the lesser-known pharaoh
Rameses IX (r. 1126-1108 BCE), depicting the king
with the god Ra Horakhty (not shown)

173
Image of an inner chamber of the tomb of Rameses IX (r. 1126-1108 BCE)

A different view of the same chamber

174
A detail of the colorful painted ceiling of the tomb of Rameses IX

A detail from one of the walls of the tomb of Rameses IX

175
Exterior views of the entrance to the Valley of the Kings

176
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The Ramesseum

177
A fallen seated statue of Rameses II (r. 1279-1213 BCE),
popularly known as the ‘head of Memnon’

178
 A view within the hypostyle hall of the Ramesseum

The vivid colors of a painted column are still visible after almost 3,250 years

179
The interior of the hypostyle hall, with a view of the ‘head of Memnon’

A fallen head of Rameses II, sitting in front of Osirid standing statues

180
View of another painted column from the hypostyle hall of the Ramesseum

181
Rameses II worships, accompanied by his spirit, or ka (left)

182
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The Temple of
Medinet Habu

183
An entrance gate to one of the inner courtyards of the temple of
Rameses III (r. 1185-1154 BCE) at Medinet Habu

184
Cartouches of Rameses III (r.1185-1154 BC), interspersed with ankh symbols and was scepters,
among the painted inscriptions at Medinet Habu

A colonnade of Osirid statues in an inner courtyard at Medinet Habu

185
A painted column in the hypostyle hall at Medinet Habu

186
Another pair of painted columns from the hypostyle hall at Medinet Habu

187
A behedety winged sun-disk protects a doorway at Medinet Habu

Pharaoh Rameses III (r. 1185-1154 BC) worships the god Anubis

188
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT
The Temple
of Esna

189
The protective vulture goddess, Nekhbet, carries a shen ring at Esna

A Ptolemaic pharaoh makes offereings at Esna

190
A raised relief from a column at the temple of Esna

191
Inside the hypostyle hall at the temple of Esna

192
An expertly carved column in the hypostyle hall at Esna

193
Another masterfully carved column from the hypostyle hall at Esna

194
A further masterpiece of column design from Esna

195
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The Temple of
Kom Ombo

196
 The dual entrances to the Ptolemaic temple of Kom Ombo,
dedicated to the gods Horus and Sobek

A detail of the entrance to Kom Ombo temple shows the remains of multicolored painted
decoration, as well as a carved relief

197
Early evening light falls on the mammoth columns at the entrance to Kom Ombo

198
A detail from the interior of Kom Ombo

199
Sunset at Kom Ombo

200
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The Temple of
Dendera

201
Cartouches of Cleopatra VII (r. 51-30 BCE) and Ptolemy XIV Caesarion (r. 36-30 BCE),
inscribed on a wall of the temple at Dendara

202
Hathor-headed columns within the temple at Dendara (both above and below)

203
A djed pillar, center, flanked by two tiyi knots at Dendara

The rising sun is flanked by two ba birds in adoration

204
 IMAGE
SUPPLEMENT

The Temple
of Philae

205
A view of the pillared forecourt of the island temple of Isis at Philae, Nubia

The entrance door to an inner courtyard of the Temple of Philae

206
 A closeup of the wall carvings on a pylon at Philae

An intricately carved pillar at Philae, dating from

the reign of the Roman emperor Trajan (r. 96-117 AD)

207
A carved pillar surmounted by an image of the goddess Hathor

View of a Roman-era structure at Philae by night

208
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Bourriau, J. and Quirke, S., Pharaohs and Mortals (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988)

Breasted, James H., A History of Egypt (New York: Scribner and Sons, 1912)

Bryan, Betsy M., The Reign of Thutmose IV (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991)

Callender, Gae, Egypt in the Old Kingdom (Melbourne: Longman, 1998)

Carter, H., and Mace, A. C., The Tomb of Tutankhamun (Mineola: Dover Publications, 1977)

Clayton, P. A., Chronicle of the Pharaohs (London: Thames and Hudson, 1994)

David, A. and David, R., A Biographical Dictionary of Ancient Egypt (London: Seaby, 1992)

Dodson, Aidan, Amarna Sunset (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2009)

Dodson, Aidan, Amarna Sunrise (Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2014)

Fildes, A. and Fletcher, J., Alexander the Great, Son of the Gods (Oxford: OUP, 2004)

Fletcher, Joann, Chronicle of a Pharaoh (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000)

Fletcher, Joann, The Story of Egypt (London: Pegasus Books, 2017)

Gardiner, Sir Alan H., Egypt of the Pharaohs (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1968)

Lloyd, Alan B., Ancient Egypt: State and Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014)

Moret, A., Du caractère religieux de la royauté pharaonique (Paris: E. Leroux, 1912)

Saleh, M., and Sourouzian, H., The Egyptian Museum Cairo (Mainz: P. von Zabern, 1987)

Reeves, Nicholas, Akhenaten, Egypt’s False Prophet (London: Thames and Hudson, 2019)

Shaw, Garry J., War and Trade with the Pharaohs (Barnsley: Pen and Sword, 2017)

Shaw, Ian (ed.), The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000)

Taylor, John H., Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt (Chicago: U of Chicago Press, 2001)

Wilkinson, R., The Complete Temples of Ancient Egypt (New York: Thames and Hudson, 2000)

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