Connections Communication in Ancient Egypt

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

An exhibition of objects from the Eton College William Joseph

Myers Collection of Egyptian Antiquities

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt An exhibition of objects from the Eton College William Joseph Myers Collection of Egyptian Antiquities

Edited by Carl Graves and Steven R. W. Gregory

University of Birmingham 2012

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Contents

Introduction 1

Acknowledgements 3

Scarabs: Appeals for Protection and Resurrection 4 Dr Nicola J Adderley

Blue Faience Bowls and Social Practice: New light on their use and 11 function Dr Martin Bommas

Innovation Through Interactions: A Tale of Three ‘Pilgrim Flasks’ 20 Dr Carla Gallorini

Intercultural Communication: Egypt and Nubia c. 2543-1076 BC 28 Carl Graves

Visualizing Ideology: The message of the crowned-falcon amulets 38 Steven R. W. Gregory

Petitions to the Divine: Communication Through Votive Offerings at 47 Egyptian Shrines Gabrielle Heffernan

Writing – Image – Material: On Media and Communication in 55 Ancient Egypt Dr Michela Luiselli

The Lost Art of Egyptian Lithics 63 Meagan Mangum

‘Actions speak louder than words’: Gestures of Communication in 71 Ancient Egypt Emily Millward

The Dead and the Living Interacting Through Text: An Inscribed 80 Funerary Cone Valentina Pasquali

Communication Through Music in Ancient Egyptian Religion 88 Eleanor Simmance

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Introduction

Since the very beginning of human evolution, communication has played a crucial role in social development. In our modern world, when messages are conveyed through countless routes, it is very appropriate to look back and understand how interaction influenced past societies.

‘Connections’ aims to explore the ways in which the ancient Egyptians communicated between each other and those in a wider international environment. The methods they used are not far removed from our own, using various verbal and non-verbal techniques. Contributions to this study include investigations of written communication, along with interaction through material culture, gestures and much more. ‘Connections’ hopes to provide a unique insight into the ways that the Egyptians communed with the deceased, the illiterate, the divine and sacred worlds, foreign countries and different social groups.

An online catalogue accompanies a physical exhibition taken from objects loaned to the University of Birmingham from the Eton College Joseph William Myers Collection of Egyptian antiquities. These objects are among the finest items of Egyptian art to have been collected during the late nineteenth century. Many of them are small masterpieces in their own right – but those less aesthetic objects also communicated messages, and have not been neglected in this project.

Figure 1: ECM202. © IAA University of Birmingham.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

How objects worked as intermediaries when information had to be exchanged is shown by ECM202, a globular jug with tall neck and disk rim with one vertical handle, dating to the early Nineteenth Dynasty, c. 1292-1203BC (fig. 1). Its fabric is of a fine Marl clay (probably Marl A in the Vienna System). The jug is decorated using paints of black and yellow to red pigments to give the impression that the vessel was made of granite (a much tougher material to work than clay). The owner of this vessel chose to communicate wealth and prestige through the selection of this decoration. A text is also preserved across the front reading, ‘The Osiris, Mistress of the House [name missing], Amenemope […]’. Although the name of the deceased is missing, we can see from the titles that the owner was female and most likely married. Amenemope is a deity worshipped at the temple of Luxor, his name literally translates as, ‘Amun of Luxor’. As part of the Ritual of Djeme, every ten days this god left the shrine and travelled to the small temple of Amun at Medinet Habu on the west bank of Thebes where he worshipped the primeval gods (his ancestors) to revive their kas.¹ Water and milk were used in this ritual and this practice also became a part of the funerary cult in Egypt. This vessel therefore indicates how the deceased ‘mistress of the house’, mentioned on ECM202, connected with the divine during the Ritual of Djeme. From this brief analysis it is possible to allocate Thebes as a provenance for this vessel, and that it was likely found within a tomb. The linen bandages and clay sealing at the top of the vessel indicate that after the burial this object was sealed and placed with the deceased for use in the afterlife. ECM202 is iconic to the topic presented through ‘Connections’ as it demonstrates communication between the deceased and the divine in ancient Egypt. The communication of wealth and prestige between social groups and conveyance of a textual message to those literate individuals within the funeral procession are also themes which will be explored through the ‘Connections’ exhibition.

In a world when the media of internet, television, radio and telephones never existed, the Egyptian people maintained systems of communication not far removed from our own – in verbal, non-verbal and symbolic ways. ‘Connections’ aims to explore and interpret these systems and put people and their media in the centre of this exhibition.

Carl Graves, June 2012.

Endnotes

1. For a full discussion of Amenemope and his role in the ritual of Djeme see, Bommas, M. 2005. Situlae and the Offering of Water in the Divine Funerary Cult: A New Approach to the Ritual of Djeme’, in A. Amenta, et al. (eds). Proceedings of the First International Conference for Young Egyptologists, Basel, 257-272.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Acknowledgments

We would like to extend our thanks to Eton College for allowing us the opportunity to work with this unique collection of Egyptian artefacts. Our gratitude goes out to the College of Arts and Law, University of Birmingham for funding this project and the Institute of Archaeology and Antiquity for their support. Also to Mr Graham Norrie for his technical assistance. Thanks are also due to Dr Martin Bommas of the IAA for his constant support and inspiration throughout this project. Also to Mr Steven Gregory for his assistance in the editing of these essays. And finally to our friends at the Herbert Museum and Art Gallery Coventry who advised us on exhibition creation and management.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Scarabs: Appeals for Protection and Resurrection

By Dr Nicola J Adderley

Scarab Amulets: Petitions for Safety and Preservation

Among the diverse repertoire of ancient Egyptian amulets, the most common form is that of the scarab. Amulets of this type first appeared during the Sixth Dynasty and remained in use until the Græco-Roman Period, although amulets in the form of beetles are attested as early as the First Dynasty.1 A wide variety of materials were used in their production, ranging from metal to animal products such as bone and beeswax,2 although various types of stone were the most common.

The prominence of the scarab as a form of amulet arose from its association with creation, new life and regeneration, and consequently resurrection and rebirth; these associations developed from the misapprehension that the beetles hatched spontaneously from balls of dung without the need for sexual reproduction. In addition, observation of the beetle assiduously rolling a ball of dung along the ground inspired the belief that the daily journey of the sun-disc across the sky was facilitated by the god Khepri in the form of a giant dung beetle, while the renewal of the sun each morning, after fading and disappearing the evening before, evinced the scarab's capacity for regeneration.3

As the scarab symbolised new life and regeneration, it could serve as an amulet without the need for additional inscription or decoration: the image of the scarab itself was sufficient to magically invoke protection for the bearer, perhaps from the god Khepri or even the sun god Re, of whom Khepri was one manifestation. Examples of this undecorated type in the Eton Myers Collection include ECM897, ECM905 and ECM1124, each measuring less than 2 cm in length and made of red carnelian, beeswax and obsidian respectively.4 Often, however, the underside of the scarab was decorated with hieroglyphs, figures of deities, animals, plants or patterns. Many such inscribed or decorated scarabs were also used as seals, but the majority functioned primarily as protective amulets, as is demonstrated in part by the presence of a piercing, allowing them to be worn by the owner on a string or wire.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Scarabs decorated with the name or image of a deity, or expressions of praise, may have been intended as a means of obtaining protection from the deity/deities depicted: the texts and representations communicated reverence for particular gods whilst simultaneously invoking their protection. An example of this type of scarab is ECM892 (figure 1), which bears a depiction of Seth (a figure with the head of the Seth-animal) on the left and a uraeus with solar disc on the right; the scarab probably dates to the Ramessid Period, at which time veneration of the god Seth was at its peak.5 In this case, the favour and attention of not only Seth but perhaps also Re (the sun disc) and Wadjet (the uraeus) may have been sought to ensure the welfare and safekeeping of the owner, all three being prominent deities in Lower Egypt. Alternatively, the uraeus may simply be representative of divinity in a more general sense, or perhaps kingship. Additionally, the uraeus could offer protection against snake bites.6

While the above example includes only a possible reference to kingship, other examples bear explicit mention of the king, such as ECM1644, a blue glazed steatite scarab inscribed with the nomen of Amenhotep III, Amenhotep Heqawaset ('Amenhotep, ruler of Thebes').7 Scarabs with such inscriptions may have been produced as celebrations of kingship or as expressions of loyalty to, or veneration of, the king; they nevertheless retained their amuletic properties: not only the scarab form, but also the name or representation of the king, the earthly embodiment of divinity, imbued the amulet with protective properties. Alternatively, or additionally, they may have summoned protection for the owner from the gods depicted within the name of the king, in this case, Amun.

Just as the image of the uraeus could simultaneously invoke a deity whilst also protecting against venomous snakes, depictions of other animals, such as the hippopotamus or the crocodile, could also serve a dual purpose, both summoning the guardianship of the deities with which the animals were associated and also performing an apotropaic function, warding off dangerous creatures. Many of the animals which appear were also associated with fecundity and, like the scarab, regeneration. Indeed, it was possible, as is the case with scaraboids, to entirely substitute such animals in place of the scarab form and, rather than simply decorate the base of a scarab with images of fauna, to replace the back of the scarab beetle with a three- dimensional carving of some other animal. Examples include ECM746 and ECM1726, made of blue faience and blue glazed steatite respectively, both of which take the form of a frog.8 Similarly, plants associated with regeneration, such as the lotus,9 are a common motif on scarabs and scaraboids, including, for example, ECM871, a blue-green glazed steatite cowroid10 carved with a depiction of a lotus plant beneath hieroglyphs reading 'every day', also incorporating the name of the god Re.11

As a symbol of resurrection and rebirth, the scarab became associated with the transition of the deceased from life to an existence as an akh spirit in the afterlife. Consequently, scarabs were also viewed as appropriate amulets with which to adorn the dead and numerous scarab amulets have been excavated in tombs. Many of these are indistinguishable from the small amulets worn by

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt the living; indeed, the majority of the examples discussed above could have been used by either the living or the dead. It is also likely that many individuals were buried with scarabs which they had worn during their lives: the scarab served equally well as protection for the living and the dead, and also ensured that the deceased would be reborn in the netherworld. However, several types of scarab developed for use exclusively within a funerary context: heart scarabs – large scarabs which were often inscribed and which were placed on the breast of the deceased (discussed below); funerary scarabs – large, uninscribed scarabs with separate outstretched wings which were sewn into mummy wrappings from the Twenty-fifth Dynasty;12 and small, uninscribed scarabs with legs carved in relief on the underside which are found sewn into mummy wrappings of the Twenty-sixth Dynasty onwards; ECM1124 is an example of this latter type.

Heart Scarabs and the Rebirth of the Deceased

Heart scarabs were placed on the chest of the mummified body, either under or

on the mummy wrappings. The earliest known examples date to the Thirteenth Dynasty and they remained in use until the Roman Period.13 The purpose of these scarabs was to ensure a smooth transition for the deceased into the afterlife. Many heart scarabs were inscribed with all or, more commonly, part of Chapter 30B of the Book of the Dead, a spell commanding the heart not to act against the deceased during the weighing of the heart – the judgement of the deceased in the afterlife, as depicted in Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead and its accompanying vignettes. During this interrogation, the heart of the deceased was weighed against maat; if the scales balanced, the individual was declared

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

'justified' or 'true of voice' and permitted into the netherworld; if, however, they were found wanting before the gods of the tribunal, their heart would be devoured by Ammut, preventing entry into the afterlife and causing them to experience the second death.14 Part of Chapter 30B is inscribed on the base of ECM1606, a heart scarab of pale blue faience dating to the Twenty-first or Twenty-second Dynasty, probably from Thebes15 (see figures 2-4): My heart of my mother, my heart of my mother, my heart of my form(s)! Do not be hostile (before) the Keeper (of the Balance)! Do not raise up a witness16 (against) the Osiris, the mistress of the house, the Chantress of Amun-Re, King of the God(s), Nes[...], true of voice.

The spell takes the form of a plea, imploring the heart, believed to hold a record of a person's life, not to reveal anything during the judgment which could jeopardise the deceased's hopes of entering the afterlife as an akh spirit. This particular heart scarab bears a relatively short extract from Chapter 30B; others contain more lengthy lists of exhortations, also instructing the heart not to 'oppose' the deceased 'before the tribunal' or 'tell lies about' him 'in the presence of the god',17 although presumably a lie would be preferred in favour of revealing crimes or transgressions!

While Chapter 30B is the text which appears most commonly on heart scarabs, Chapter 30A (also intended as a means of preventing the heart from speaking against the deceased), or, less frequently, Chapters 26, 27 and 29B (spells to ensure the heart remained with its owner after death and that the deceased was able to enter the netherworld without restraint) were also used.18 Alternatively, heart scarabs could be left uninscribed. The employment of such artefacts as heart scarabs can usually be inferred from their size, material and often the absence of any piercing; for instance, ECM1131 (figure 5) can be identified as a heart scarab as it is unpierced, too large to be worn as an amulet,19 and made of a greenish-brown stone with gold gilding, resembling the materials stipulated for the manufacture of heart scarabs in the rubric to Chapter 30B.20 Uninscribed heart scarabs served the same purpose as those bearing excerpts from Chapters 30A and 30B of the Book of the Dead: they functioned as a talisman preventing the heart of the deceased from speaking out against him during his judgement by the gods of the tribunal. Furthermore, the form of the scarab itself, representing new life and renewal, as well as being the hieroglyph for 'existing' or 'coming into being', helped to magically ensure the deceased would be successfully reborn in the afterlife.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Entreaties to the Gods, Missives to the Heart

Scarabs bear a range of messages which can be broadly divided into two types: those that were intended to convey piety and appeals to divine beings, and those which were intended to serve as a directive to the heart. Of the former, some are simply a general request or invocation for preservation and protection, addressed to any god or magical entity that might be able and willing to assist; others communicate the owner's devotion to one or more specific gods or kings whilst soliciting their favour and guardianship. Scarabs utilised in burial contexts, in addition to retaining their protective function, also served to aid the deceased in undergoing his or her transformation into an akh spirit in the realm of the dead. In many cases, this role was implicit in the scarab form, with its inherent associations of new life, resurrection and existence. Heart scarabs, however, developed this aspect further: they also functioned as a missive to the heart, either literally (if inscribed with Chapter 30B of the Book of the Dead) or implicitly (if left uninscribed), imploring and impelling the heart not to betray the deceased in their judgment in the afterlife, so that they might continue to exist after death.

As with most aspects of Egyptian religion, an ongoing development of the scarabs can be seen over time: the earliest examples are crude amulets dating to the Sixth Dynasty; towards the end of the First Intermediate Period, the scarab form became more naturalistic and the range of motifs used on the base expanded, as it continued to do through subsequent periods; during the Middle Kingdom, heart scarabs first came into use, and then later, in the Twenty-fifth Dynasty and the Saite Period, other types of funerary scarab developed. Their primary purpose, however, remained essentially unchanged and the employment of scarabs as one of the many and diverse means of inducing the gods to intervene on behalf of their devotees, alive or dead, continued until the Roman Period.

Endnotes

1. Andrews 1994: 11 fig. 5i and 50-51; Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 13. 2. For example, ECM 905 appears to be made of beeswax with traces of gold gilding also present; cf. the Eton Myers acquisition notes for this scarab. 3. See Andrews 1994: 50-51 for further discussion of the behaviour of scarabs and its relationship with Egyptian mythology and funerary beliefs. 4. ECM 897 measures 15 x 12 x 7mm; it is pierced longitudinally and, being made of carnelian, probably dates to the New Kingdom or perhaps later (cf. Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 22, which states that most examples of this material date to the Eighteenth Dynasty, and Andrews 1994: 50). ECM905 measures 13 x 10 x 6 mm; it is pierced longitudinally and is of unknown date. ECM1124 measures 17 x 14 x 8 mm; it has a transverse piercing and has detail of the legs and belly of the scarab carved on the underside; such scarabs were sewn into the mummy wrappings of the dead during the Twenty-sixth Dynasty and later (Andrews 1994: 59).

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

5. The scarab is pierced longitudinally and measures approximately 24 x 18 x 9 mm. Comparable examples, probably also dating to the Ramessid Period, include Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 377 no. B 25 and Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 68 no. 92. 6. See Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 134-135 for a discussion of uraei on scarabs. 7. ECM1644 measures 18 x 12 x 10 mm and has a longitudinal piercing. ECM860 also bears a cartouche above a figure of Heh holding palm ribs in each hand; the cartouche is inscribed with the throne name of Tuthmosis III, Menkheperre, probably a cryptographic writing of Amun (cf. Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 60-63 with Abb. 9 and 175). The scarab is made of blue glazed steatite and measures 17 x 13 x 7 mm; it may date later than the reign of Tuthmosis III, as cartouches bearing his throne name remained in use until as late as the fourth century BCE (Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 60). For an example comparable to ECM860, see Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 374 no. B 9. 8. ECM746 measures 16 x 8 x 10 mm; ECM1726 measures 15 x 11 x 9 mm. Both are pierced and have a flat, undecorated base. 9. See Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 164. 10. A cowroid is a scaraboid based on the form of a cowrie shell. This example has a lentoid shape with an undecorated upper surface. 11. ECM871 measures 15 x 10 x 4 mm and has a longitudinal piercing. 12. For a brief discussion of funerary scarabs with several examples, see Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 122 and 138-144. 13. Andrews 1994: 56-57; Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 122. 14. Cf. Taylor 2001: 38; Pinch 2002: 93 and 142. 15. Spurr, Reeves and Quirke 2001: 44-45. The scarab measures approximately 57 x 39 x 23 mm. 16. More commonly, this part of the spell reads 'do not stand up as a witness against' the deceased; see for example Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 371- 372, nos. A 8-10 and Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 124-128, nos. 201-203. 17. See, for example, Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 124-131 nos. 201-202 and 206; for translations of full versions of Chapter 30B, see Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 184-185 and Faulkner 1972: 27-28. 18. Cf. Hornung and Staehelin 1976: 184-187 and Taylor 2001: 196. 19. ECM1131 measures approximately 48 x 34 x 18 mm. 20. The rubric to Chapter 30B of the Book of the Dead states that heart scarabs should ideally be made of nephrite, a green stone, and mounted in fine gold; see Faulkner 1972: 56. Other examples of uninscribed heart scarabs include Teeter and Wilfong 2003: 132-137 nos. 207 and 209-219.

Bibliography

Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London and Texas.

Faulkner, R. O. 1972. The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead (revised edition). London.

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Hall, H. R. 1913. Catalogue of Egyptian Scarabs, etc., in the British Museum, Volume I, Royal Scarabs. London.

Hornung, E. and Staehelin, E. 1976. Skarabäen und andere Siegelamulette aus Basler Sammlungen. Mainz.

Pinch, G. 2002. Egyptian Mythology. A Guide to the Gods, Goddesses, and Traditions of Ancient Egypt. Oxford.

Spurr, S., Reeves, N. and Quirke, S. 2001. Egyptian Art at Eton College. Selections from the Myers Museum. Windsor and New York.

Taylor, J. H. 2001. Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt. London.

Teeter, E. and Wilfong, T. G. 2003. Scarabs, Scaraboids, Seals, and Seal Impressions from Medinet Habu. Chicago.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Blue Faience Bowls and Social Practice: New light on their use and function

By Dr Martin Bommas

Figure 1: ECM1475. © IAA University of Birmingham.

Despite often being displayed prominently in exhibitions on ancient Egyptian minor art, blue faience bowls are among the most famed but also least studied.1 The attention paid to these outstanding artefacts, often inspired by the modern viewers' taste for beauty has unfortunately not translated into an equally intensive scholarly interest in the use, form and function of blue faience bowls in Egypt.2 Apart from later developments in Greco-Roman times, blue faience bowls are of hemispherical shape and show shiny greenish-blue surfaces. Often they have black figurative paintings and in some rare cases inscriptions (fig. 1 © IAA University of Birmingham) while the oldest blue faience bowls often come with rims painted in black (fig. 2). Although for these vessels a number of terms circulate, in most cases based on creativity rather than facts,3 until today the various functions of these bowls both in private and royal contexts (fig. 1) is hardly fully understood. Nevertheless, there seems to be a general agreement on two rather different uses of blue faience bowls at least: first, blue faience bowls were widely used in the cult of Hathor4, secondly they made up part of tomb equipments of wealthy dead individuals from the Middle Kingdom onwards.5 This article aims at broadening the debate and offers some hints on two more uses

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt of blue faience bowls within funerary culture. As will be seen, for both these new categories research into the communication with an addressee who remains passive plays a vital role. With the help of ancient Egyptian texts, the use of blue faience bowls can be assessed in a new way.

Interaction through offering rituals

Funerary rites in ancient Egypt have been the subject of intensive research, especially over the last 20 years with a rediscovery ofthe role of accompanying recitation literature being among the major achievements.6 In addition to rituals within fixed locations in bounded sacred space – such as the Ritual of Opening the Mouth which took place in the open forecourts of tombs - other less stationary rituals underline the more dynamic aspects of ritualistic actions, thus pointing at what can be referred to as rite de passage - such as the so-called Voyage to Sais. In addition to that, a third category includes a series of ritualistic actions that were performed at various stages of the funerary rite – such as the offering ritual which was not limited to one location. Offering rites in front of the dead body lying on its bier included the most developed recitations which aimed at addressing the deceased as Osiris and preparing him to accept offerings for his well being in the netherworld. Here, communication with a mostly passive deceased played a crucial role in enforcing his change of status. There can be no doubt that addressing the dead individual as Osiris NN had to be both formalised and individualised in order to achieve the recipient‘s attention. Thousands of these glorifications (or Verklärungen in German) are attested in both the mummification ritual and offering rites. Their aim is to negotiate the deceased‘s netherworldy status in relation to his mythical antecedant Osiris in whose footsteps every dead individual was supposed to follow. Although the majority of the ritualistic actions that led to a successful burial have been investigated in detail, the concluding rites which include the actual interment have not been fully understood.7 Although the evidence is rather patchy for a number of reasons, it seems obvious that the final burial was accompanied by further rituals. Which rituals were performed in detail had in fact to do with the type of architecture chosen to embrace an individual’s final resting place: a very elaborate tomb architecture which mushroomed in Thebes for a very short time during the Ramesside Period favoured a sloping passage decending into the burial chamber8 which would not only allow for comfortably pulling down the deceased’s coffin to its final destination: also the closest relatives would be in the position to see the dead individual to his burial chamber before its door would close forever. In the tomb of Djehutimes (TT 32), the sloping passage turns 360 degrees through a single turn before descending 30 metres and arriving at the burial chamber, allowing Djehutimes' relatives to say farewell exactly where he was buried.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

The other variant which is more commonly attested since the Old Kingdom included a tomb shaft through which the sarcophagi slid into the tomb chamber only secured by long ropes. Steps hewn out at two sides of the shaft allowed those involved to easily climb up or down, as illustrated by an ostracon today kept in the Manchester University Museum (fig. 3). Texts with standard protection songs that accompanied the lowering of the sarcophagus where recited by lector priests from papyrus rolls; one of the books known has the title ‚‘The protection of the gods sorrounds (me)‘.9 Where shaft tombs were involved, only a small number of relatives were invited to attend the final ceremonies as is clearly narrated by the ostracon from Manchester. Regardless of which tomb architecture was preferred, the contents of the final burial rites must have been the same, due to the agreed set of ritualist actions. What is certain, however, is that during these final rites objects were laid out before the entrance into the burial chamber and recitations took place, thus marking the tomb as an interface for the dead between this world and the beyond. This procedure was probably the quitest part of the funeral with no wailing women and villagers around to produce the noise that was needed during the procession to ward off Seth, the dead individual’s mythical enemy. Because the actual interment of the deceased did not form part of the funeral processions, the intimacy of this ritual was hardly ever focussed on: tomb depictions never display these actions because they were considered private.

Lamentations as farewell address

In-depth research has recently shown that the final rites at the entrance of shaft tombs must have been accompanied by a number of rituals carried out in the open. These rites included the deposit of vessels10 that contained food offerings11 as a token of a final farewell before the tomb shaft was closed forever. It is here that the so-called lamentations of Isis and Nephthys have their Sitz im Leben (place in life). Lamentations form a group of texts in their own right and are only peripherally linked with glorifications. They have mainly been studied without taking the archaeological evidence into account, or in other words: scholars who studied the archaeological remains have not made the link with the accompanying texts and those studying the texts did not show an interest in manual rites. That the two belong together, and both physical enactment and recital are in fact intrinsically tied together is made clear by the closing passage from Papyrus Berlin 3008 from the Ptolemaic

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Period. Here, a manual gives detailed instructions how the lamentations were to be performed:

Now when reciting this, the place should be totally secluded, without it being witnessed or heard by any eyes except for the chief lector priest and the sem–priest.

Then one should bring two women with comely forms. Cause them to sit upon the ground in the first portal of the hall of appearance. Inscribe their arms with the names of Isis and Nephthys. Place vessels of faience filled with water in their right hands, and cakes made in White Walls (i.e. Memphis, author’s note) in their left hands. Cause their faces to be lowered. To be done at the third hour in the day, likewise at the eighth hour of the day. You should not weary of reciting this book at the hour of festival.

It has come to an end.12

This passage is one of the few occasions where manual rites are mentioned within lamentations. Moreover it presents its modern readers with the context in which the lamentations were recited. Nevertheless, these instructions were never studied with regard to the actual context of performance13 which – as the text itself points out – is the receipt of offerings.

The use of faience bowls during the final offering ritual

As it further appears from this passage, faience bowls – and one should probably assume that blue faience bowls are meant here14 – play an important role in the final stages of the burial rite, presented by two women playing the divine roles of Isis and Nephthys as illustrated on the ostracon from Manchester (fig. 3). How exactly these faience bowls had to look is impossible to determine today: various different forms are attested in Ptolemaic times15, among them drinking cups16 but also flat bowls which became wide spread in Roman Times (fig. 4)17. It is important to note that this scene does not include the wailing with which Isis and Nephthys are often linked (fig. 5)18. While wailing involves one hand being raised19, Papyrus Berlin 3008 leaves no doubt that here, both goddesses are shown offering bread and water and are, therefore, not mourning. With the beginning of the final offering rite employing blue faience bowls, mourning has come to an end.

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Blue faience bowls were obviously not mere containers for food or water that were offered silently. Recitations that made part of deposit rites are well attested from within the cult of Hathor where faience bowls were the most common type of vessels found, usually carrying a simple lotus pattern20: Stelae erected by turquoise mining expeditions at Serabit el-Khadim during the MK preserve prayers to the goddess Hathor to protect the group.21 Although no reference seems to be made to the use of blue faience bowls, water presented in drinking cups often fulfilled the function of an intermediary between the living and the world beyond.22 Contact with the sacred was usually made through the use of water, the drinking of which would allow a text or a spoken prayer to be consumed by a god or a dead individual in his capacity of a glorified spirit. The greenish-blue colour as well as nilotic motifs often depicted on the insides of these bowls suggests ideas of rejuvenation and the abundance of funerary provisions.23

It becomes evident from Papyrus Berlin 3008 that in addition to the use of blue faience bowls within the cult of Hathor and as part of funerary equipments, a communicative use of bowls is attested in a context where immediate and also intimate connection was made with a dead loved one at the end of the burial rite. Which songs were sung is laid out in detail by the lamentations of Isis and Nephthys, but the contents of drinking cups were presented non-verbally: verbal communication rested exclusively on the texts as mythical interpretation of the manual offering rite and needed no further recitations.

Faience bowls used on Remembrance Day

From here, it is only a short leap to a fourth category of use for blue faience bowls: during the funerary festivals when the living met with the dead in their tomb forecourts for festive eating and drinking24, drinking cups and lotus chalices25 were widely used in a context where re-enforcing the dead individual‘s rejuvenation was on the agenda. This approach, attested since the Old Kingdom,26 focused on the re-establishment of close links between the worlds of the living and the dead within sacred space. Shaping identity with the help of religious festivals is one of the key aspects in creating communitas, to use a term coined by Victor Turner27: festivals are, among others functions, platforms for remembering the dead and therefore to be regarded as the locus classicus in forming cultural memory.28

In Egypt, cultural identity was shaped by remembering the dead. Although fragmented, shrine 11 at Gebel es-Silsilah has a depiction of such a festival

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt scene: in front of the deceased and his wife an offering table is mounted. One man and two scantily clad girls are playing music and dance while three other men are sat on the ground and clap their hands. The text they perform is in fact a sacred song, deeply rooted in Personal Religion:29 ‘Your lord is Amun/ good father/ lord of the entire land/ You are a protector and we are afraid of no-one/ Sweet father, lord of the entire land (...).‘ The scene is observed by four men sitting on stools, holding lotus flowers in their right hands. Without any doubt, this is the context in which the wishes for a dead individual’s rejuvenation are renewed. It is here where good times are celebrated, the living communicate with the dead and rejuvenating water is drunk from blue faience bowls that are covered with lotus flowers. But it is also the context in which personal religious beliefs were practised, since the wider context in which contact with dead relatives was made possible was the ‘Beautiful Festival of the Valley‘. Here, the Theban god Amun visited the tombs and temples of deceased gods, kings and private people to reinforce relations with all those who inhabited the tripartite world consisting of sky, earth and necropolis.30 It seems that in such festive practices blue faience bowls served the needs of all those who fell into one (or two) of these categories, enabling the communication between the living and the dead.

Endnotes

1. E.g. Dunn Friedman 1998; Cubet and Pierret-Bonnefois 2005. 2. One of the early publications is Krönig 1934. To date, the only monographic approach to this topic is Strauss 1974. Prompted from a master’s thesis, it is probably fair to say that this publication hampered the research on blue faience bowls rather than furthering it. 3. Strauss 1974 calls these bowls “Nunschalen” (linking the vessels with Nun, the Egyptian term for primeval waters); Pinch 1994: 312-313 uses the term “marsh bowls” referring to the ‘life-giving properties of the inundation’. 4. See Pinch 1993. 5. During the Middle Kingdom, blue faience bowls increasingly formed part of funerary equipments such as in Beni Hassan (Garstang 1907: 142, fig. 140) or Hu (Nicholson 1993: 25 and 27, fig. 17). A shallow bowl, probably coming from el-Matariya and dating to Dyn. 12-13, contained model fruits and vegetables, see Dunn Friedman 1998:151 and 239. 6. Assmann 2002-2008. 7. The most recent article on this topic does not discuss the rites following on from the Ritual of Opening the Mouth, i.e. the offering ritual, interment of the body and concluding rituals (Hayes 2010: 8). 8. Assmann 2003: 50-51. 9. Altenmüller 1975: 762. 10. Seiler 2005: 40-52 differentiates between ‘Beigabenkeramik’ as deposited as part of the funerary equipment and ‘Kultkeramik’ which was used in publicly accessible spaces at the entrances of tombs. 11. Winlock 1923: 38. 12. Trans. Smith 2009: 133-134. 13. Recent studies include Lichtheim 1980: 120; Smith 2009: 133-134; Kucharek 2010: 94-96.

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14. On individual colours of faience see Kaczmarczyk and Hedges 1983: 140- 184. 15. See for an overview of shapes the catalogue of faience vessels in the Greco-Roman Museum in Alexandria, Nenna and Seif-el Din 2000. 16. Nenna and Seif-el Din 2000: Pl. 1-5. 17. Nenna and Seif-el Din 2000: 311-318. 18. See Millward’s article in this collection. 19. See ECM148 in the contribution by E. Millward to this project. 20. Pinch 1993: 308. 21. Pinch 1992: 349. 22. Clear evidence is presented by drinking cups that were inscribed with letters to the dead and deposited in tombs, see Bommas 1993. 23. A blue faience bowl with a greenish colour and a black rim from the Louvre (Ae E 10909, Cubet and Pierret-Bonnefois 2005: 40) dating to the Late Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period shows among floral patterns fish and birds flapping in the marshes. 24. Bommas 2010: 170-172. For the reference to the cult of Hathor see Schott 1952: 77-78. 25. See Schott 1952: 77 for a similar cup depicted in Tomb TT 181. 26. Seiler 2005: 180. 27. Turner 2008: 94-130. 28. Assmann 1991: 15; Beck and Wiemer 2009. 29. For a song attested in shrine 11 at Gebel es-Silsileh see recently Luiselli 2011: 327-328 (with older literature). 30. Bommas 2005.

Bibliography

Altenmüller, H., 1975. ‘Bestattungsritual‘, in: W. Helck and E. Otto (eds.), Lexikon der Ägyptologie I, Wiesbaden, sp. 745-765.

Assmann, J., 1991. ‘Der zweidimensionale Mensch: das Fest als Medium des kollektiven Gedächtnises‘, in: J. Assmann and T. Sundermeier (eds.), Das Fest und das Heilige. Religiöse Kontrapunkte zur Alltagswelt. Studien zum verstehen fremder Religionen I, Gütersloh, 13-30.

Assmann, J., 2002-2008. Altägyptische Totenliturgien I-III. Heidelberg.

Assmann, J., 2003. ‘The Ramesside tomb and the construction of sacred space’, in: N. Strudwick and J. Taylor (eds.), The Theban Necorpolis. Past, Present and Future, London, 46-52.

Beck, H. and H.-U. Wiemer, 2009. ‘Feiern und Erinnern – eine Einleitung’, in: H. Beck und H.-U. Wiemer (eds.), Feiern und Erinnern. Geschichtsbilder im Spiegel antiker Feste. Stidien zur Alten Geschichte 12, Berlin, 9-54 .

Bommas, M., 1993. ‘Zur Datierung einiger Briefe an die Toten’, in: Göttinger Miszellen 173, 53-60.

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Bommas, M., 2005. ‘Situlae and the Offering of Water in the Divine Funerary Cult: A New Approach to the Ritual of Djeme’, in: A. Amenta/M. Luiselli/M.N. Sordi (ed.), L’acqua nell’ antico Egitto, Proceedings of the First International Conference for Young Egyptologists, 15th-18th of October 2003 in Chianciano Terme, Rome, 257-272.

Bommas, M., 2010. ‘The mechanics of social connections between the living and the dead in ancient Egypt’, in: M. Carroll and J. Rempel (eds.), Living Through the Dead: Burial, Commemoration in the Classical World, Oxford, 159-182.

Cubet, A. and G. Pierret-Bonnefois, 2005. Faïence de l’Antiquité de l’Égypte à l’Iran. Paris.

Dunn Friedman, F. 1998. Gifts of the Nile. Ancient Egyptian Faience. London. Strauss, E.-C., 1974. Die Nunschale – Eine Gefässgruppe des Neuen Reiches, Münchner Ägyptologische Studien 30. Berlin.

Garstang, J., 1907. The Burial Customs of Ancient Egypt, as illustrated by tombs of the Middle Kingdom, being a report of excavations made in the Necropolis of Beni Hassan during 1902-3-4. London.

Hays, H., 2010. ‘Funerary Rituals (Pharaonic Period)’ in: J. Dieleman and W. Wendrich (eds.), UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, Los Angeles, 1-15 (http://escholarship.org/uc/item/1r32g9zn, last accessed 16.2.2012).

Krönig, W., 1934. ‘Ägyptische Faience-Schalen des Neuen Reiches. Eine motivgeschichtliche Untersuchung’, MDAIK 5, 144-166.

Kaczmarczyk, A. and R.E.M. Hedges, 1983. Ancient Egyptian Faience. An analytical survey of Egyptian Faience from Predynastic to Roman Times. London.

Kucharek, A., 2010. Die Klagelieder von Isis und Nephthys in Texten der Griechisch-Römischen Zeit. Heidelberg.

Lichtheim, M., 1980. Ancient Egyptian Literature III. Berkeley/Los Angeles/ London.

Luiselli, M.M., 2011. Die Suche nach Gottesnähe. Untersuchungen zur Persönlichen Frömmigkeit in Ägypten von der Ersten Zwischenzeit bis zum Ende des Neuen Reiches, Ägypten und Altes Testament 73. Wiesbaden.

Nenna, M. and M. Seif-el Din, 2000. La vaisselle en faïnce d’epoque gréco- romaine. Catalogue du Museé gréco-romaine d’Alexandrie, Études alexandrines 4. Cairo.

Nicholson, P., 1993. Egyptian Faience and Glass. Dyfed.

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Pinch, G., 1993. Votive Offerings to Hathor. Oxford.

Schott, S., 1952. Das schöne Fest vom Wüstentale. Festbräuche einer Totenstadt. Wiesbaden.

Seiler, A., 2005. Tradition & Wandel. Die Keramik als Spiegel der Kulturentwicklung Thebens in der Zweiten Zwischenzeit. Mainz.

Smith, M., 2009. Traversing Eternity. Texts for the Afterlife from Ptolemaic and Roman Egypt. Oxford.

Turner, V., 2008. The Ritual Process. Structure and anti-Structure. New Jersey.

Winlock, H.E., 1923. ‘The Museum’s Excavations at Thebes’ in BMMA 18, December II, 11-39.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Innovation Through Interactions: A Tale of Three 'Pilgrim Flasks'

By Dr Carla Gallorini

At the beginning of the 18th Dynasty a new shape enters the Egyptian pottery repertoire: it is a type of vessel with lentoid body, a narrow neck inserted at the top and two loop handles, one either side of it, for suspension (Fig. 1).

The shape has parallels in the contemporary Mycenaean1 and Syro- Palestinian corpora,2 and the inspiration for the form might have come from earlier Middle Bronze age pottery vessels3 or from containers made of natural materials like gourds, animal skin or even ostrich eggs.4 In Egypt flasks of this type were produced in a variety of styles and materials, including pottery, glass, faience5 and metal,6 from the early 18th Dynasty until the Coptic and Medieval periods. It is to these later examples that the shape owes its nickname, ‘pilgrim flask’, as small pottery flasks in this shape were produced in great number as souvenirs for the pilgrims visiting the sacred shrines in Egypt and the Near East. With time the term has lost its original association with pilgrimage and it has come to designate all two-handled lentoid flasks, regardless of their country of origin, date or function.

Among the objects on loan to the University of Birmingham from the Eton Myers collection are several examples of Egyptian ‘pilgrim flasks’, mostly datable to the New Kingdom. To the collection also belong a Mycenaean globular vertical flask (ECM1974) and an example of a St. Menas pilgrim flask (ECM1905). Within the frame of the ‘Connections’ exhibition they offer the opportunity to look at how a foreign ‘idea’, in this case a pottery vessel, has been assimilated into the Egyptian repertoire only to become, centuries later, ‘the most prevalent form of surviving late antique pilgrim artefact’.7

In recent years a great amount of research has been conducted to try and understand the mechanisms that regulate the transfer of knowledge and the diffusion of technological innovations through interactions among different cultures.8 Ethnographical and anthropological studies have shown that pottery production in pre-industrial society is generally conservative because its knowledge is taught and transferred within family based groups from a very early age.9 When innovations occur they do so for a variety of reasons,10 but 20

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt the most common of them is changes in the ‘functional field’: new products are created or are adopted from elsewhere to perform new functions.11 Could this be the case for the pilgrim flask? And if so, what factors can we see behind this innovation?

During the 18th Dynasty Mycenaean ‘pilgrim flasks’, or to be more precise Mycenaean globular vertical flasks (FS189), were imported into Egypt as containers for speciality oils and unguents,12 and ECM1974 described below is a good example of the type. The Mycenaean vertical globular flask is characteristic of the Late Helladic IIIA period13 and has an interesting pattern of distribution: it is relatively uncommon on the Greek mainland, where it is found mostly in funerary contexts, but it is very well represented in Egypt, Cyprus and in the Levant.14 In Egypt it is one of the most common shapes among the imported Mycenaean pottery, second only to the stirrup jar.15 Neutron activation analysis of the Mycenaean sherds from Tell el-Amarna has shown that they were produced in the Berbati area, east of Mycenae:16 this evidence, together with the distribution pattern of the flasks has prompted scholars to suggest that the shape was produced in the Argolid especially for export.17

Another type of ‘pilgrim flask’ also imported into Egypt during the 18th Dynasty has a Syro-Palestinian origin.18 Janine Bourriau has drawn attention to the fact that pilgrim flasks of this type are often found both in Egypt and the Levant in association with Canaanite jars, possibly because they contained a commodity added to the wine to flavour it.19 She has also used the evidence from the pottery excavated at Memphis Kom Rabia to suggest that the beginning of amphora production in Egypt is connected to the development of wine production in the Delta in the early 18th Dynasty, as the wine produced then in larger quantity required containers to transport it.20 If she is correct in linking the appearance of Egyptian amphorae in Marl D21 to the advent of Egyptian pilgrim flasks in the same fabric22 we have here a compelling reason for the Egyptians to adopt the foreign shape.

By the second half of the 18th Dynasty the ‘pilgrim flask’ shape was reproduced in different styles and materials suggesting it had acquired a different set of functions, most likely as container for cosmetic and scented oil,23 a use the Egyptians were already familiar with thanks to the Mycenaean examples. Some faience flasks of this period bear a decoration of lotus flowers,24 a symbol of regeneration and of the transformation of the dead in the afterlife. Through the centuries the pilgrim flask shape maintained its association with ‘renewal’ and precious products, and in the Late Period it was used for the so-called ‘New Year Flasks’, vessels produced in celebration of the annual rising of the Nile, which marked the beginning of the New Year for the Egyptians.25 These flasks were filled with the water of the Nile collected at the beginning of the annual flood and carrying with it the symbolic values of regeneration and rebirth.26 It is not surprising therefore, to find the same shape used by pilgrims to carry the holy water or the consecrated oil from the sacred shrines of the eastern Christendom. The pilgrimage centre of Abu Mina, 45 km south of Alexandria,27 was Egypt’s most important pilgrim centre

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt and flasks with the effigy of St. Menas became a popular souvenir among the pilgrims, some being found as far as Meols, in the west of England.28

Three ‘pilgrim flasks’ from the Eton collection illustrate some of the stages in the development outlined above.

ECM1974

In 1959 the archaeologist G. A. Wainwright presented Eton College with a selection of objects collected during his work in Egypt.29 Among them is a Mycenaean flask from the New Kingdom cemetery at Balabish (fig. 2 © IAA University of Birmingham).30 It has a globular body, short, narrow neck and slightly thickened rim (max. diam. 2.9cm); the two handles are oval in section and run from just below the rim to the shoulder. The vessel is wheel made, thrown from the base, in a fine and well levigated clay (the break is pink 7.5YR 7/4). The outer surface is damaged but the decoration of concentric circles on the body (Red 10R 4/8 and Black 5YR 2.5/1) is still clearly visible together with a “U” pattern (FM45)31 in the same colours running down along the ‘side panel’ under the handle. In spite of the damage, traces of a band decoration are also present on the rim and handles.

Figure 2: ECM1974. © IAA University of Birmingham

The flask, which is illustrated as a complete vessel in the original excavation report,32 is now missing its base and a portion of the body. The identification of ECM1974 with the flask illustrated in Balabish pl. XXV, 83 is certain and it is further corroborated by the fact that the vessel is marked ‘B17’ on the interior in pencil with reference to the burial group to which it belonged and which is shown in the original excavation report.33

ECM1971

Flask ECM1971 (fig. 3) was also donated to Eton College by G.A. Wainwright in 1959, but there is no record of its original provenance.34 It has a lentoid body, a short, narrow neck with folded rim and the two handles, oval in section, run from below the rim to the shoulder. The vessel is made of Egyptian Marl D35 and the exterior surface has been slipped and burnished (‘yellow’ 2.5Y 8/6). The variations in the colour of the surface are due to the uneven firing temperature. Part of the lower body is

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt missing, but some of the original content is preserved.

It has generally been assumed that early examples of ‘pilgrim flasks’ from both Egypt and Syro- Palestine were constructed from two bowls, thrown on the wheel and then joined at the rims. However ECM1971 was made in one piece and the wheel marks flow continuously from the centre of one lens to the other. The neck was then pushed through leaving the excess clay from the process still attached to the interior of the vessel. Another pilgrim flask in the Eton collection, ECM1981 (fig. 4) shows the technology more clearly. This method of manufacture has already been noted in Egypt for some of the pilgrim flasks excavated by Reisner at the Late New Kingdom/Third Intermediate Period cemetery at El-Ahaiwah,36 but also in flasks from Jordan37 and the Late Bronze age Egyptian garrison at Beth Shan,38 in modern northern Israel. This manufacturing technique is different from the one used for the Mycenaean flask, which was thrown from the base, and suggests that the Egyptian potters imitated Levantine, not Mycenaean, prototypes.

ECM1905

This flask entered the collection in 1934 through a donation from H.E.J. James and it is said to come from Alexandria (fig. 5). It is made in Marl A4,39 the surface fired yellow (2.5Y 8/6). The body is flat and circular and it is mould made in two sections joined around the side. The neck and handles were then applied to the body by hand. On one side St. Menas is represented standing with his arms stretched and flanked by two camels which bend their heads toward his feet (Fig. 5). On the other side is a Greek inscription in two lines which read ‘ΕΥΛΟΓΙΑ’ (Fig. 6) an abbreviation of the standard inscription found on larger flasks ‘ΕΥΛΟΓΙΑ ΤΟΥ ΑΓΙΟΥ ΜΗΝΑ ΑΜΜΝ’ conferring the ‘Blessing of St. Menas, Amen’ to the pilgrim.40 According to tradition Menas was an Egyptian who was conscripted as a soldier during Diocletian’s reign and sent to Phrygia where he was killed for refusing to make offerings to the gods. There are various accounts as to how his body was returned to Egypt and camels appear in various roles: in one account they are said to have miraculously carried the saint’s remains

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt through the desert from Alexandria to his final resting place. Another story tells that, thanks to the bones of the martyr, the soldiers returning to Egypt fend off an attack from a sea monster with ‘faces like those of camels’.41 For the many pilgrims facing the long sea journey home this would have been a most reassuring story.

Conclusion

The ‘pilgrim flasks’ entered the Egyptian pottery repertoire in the early 18th Dynasty as a result of the growing contacts with the Eastern Mediterranean. The technology of manufacture, the fabric used and the association with wine amphorae suggest that the earliest Egyptian examples were produced under the influence of Levantine prototypes to supply the growing needs of the developing wine making centres in the Delta at the beginning of the New Kingdom. The parallel use of the shape in Egypt as a cosmetic vase links it to the Mycenaean globular, vertical flask, which was produced in mainland Greece specifically for the export of speciality oils and unguents to Egypt and the Eastern Mediterranean. The Egyptian craftsmen borrowed the foreign form and reproduced it in different materials and styles, adapting it to suit the needs of the internal market and to conform to the principles of Egyptian design. Once fully absorbed into the repertoire the shape remained in use, evolving and adapting, for the following two thousand years.

Endnotes 1. Furumark 1941: 616-617 (FS186 and FS189). In his classification of Mycenaean pottery Furumark attributed a number to each class of vessels and also listed and categorised the major decorative patterns. It is established convention to identify vessels by Furumark Shape (FS) and decoration by Furumark Motif (FM). 2. Amiran 1970: 166-169, pl. 51. 3. Mountjoy 1993: 72, Amiran 1970: 166. 4. Anderson 1990: 43. 5. Examples in glass and faience exist in the Eton Myers collection, cf. ECM1589 (Reeves and Quirke 1999: 27, cat no. 24) and ECM1620 (Reeves and Quirke 1999: 27, cat. no. 25). 6. An example from grave G70 Abydos, now in the Ashmolean Museum (AN1896-1908 E.2442) is made of a tin and lead alloy and has a hinged lid (Ayrton, Culley and Weigal 1904: 50, pl. XVII, 20). 7. Anderson 2004: 81. 8. For a general introduction to the problems involved and good bibliographical references see Yasur-Landau 2005, Bourriau and Phillips 2004, and Shortland 2001. 9. Arnold 1994: 174-184. 10.Schiffer and Skibo 1987: 598-600. 11.Schiffer and Skibo 1987: 598. 12.Leonard 1981: 91-100. 13.Judas 2010: 439, table 4:17 gives an overview of the chronological distribution of Mycenaean flask types. 14.Leonard 1994: 84-87.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

15.Judas 2010:796. 16.Mommsen et al. 1992: 298-299. 17.Mommsen et al. 1992: 298. 18.Amiran 1970: 166-169, pl. 51. 19.Bourriau 2004: 82. 20.Bourriau 2004: 85. 21.This is an Egyptian marl clay used mostly, but not exclusively, for the production of transport amphorae. The earliest stamped Egyptian amphora, possibly in this fabric, carries the name of Tuthmosis I (Hope 1989: 93). For a description of the fabric see Nordström and Bourriau 1993: 181-182, pl. VII: a- c, e-f. 22.Bourriau 2010: 83. 23.Bourriau 1981: 75. 24.ECM1620, in Spurr, Reeves and Quirke 1999: 27, cat. no. 25. 25.Friedman 1998: 229-230, cat no. 126 and 127. For and example from the Eton Myers collection see ECM1704 in Spurr, Reeves and Quirke 1999: 56, cat no. 87. 26. Bubenheimer Erhart 2006: 16. 27.For a general introduction to the pilgrimage centre of Abu Menas see Grossmann 1998: 281-302. 28.Anderson 2004: 81. 29.Reeves 1999: 5. The provenance is also recorded in the collection ‘entry catalogue’. 30.Wainwright 1920. Balabish lies on the east side of the Nile in the Sohag governorate, Upper Egypt. It was excavated by Wainwright and Whittemore in the winter of 1915, but had already been plundered in antiquity and excavations had also been previously carried out by the Egyptian Department of Antiquities. The site is best known for its Pan Grave cemetery, but it consists of several cemeteries varying in date from the Pre-dynastic to the Coptic period. 31.See endnote 1. 32.Wainwright 1920: 64-65, pl. XXV, 83. 33.Wainwright 1920: pl. XXV, 83. The only other Mycenaean flask from Balabish was found in ‘B38’ (Wainwright 1920: 65) and was not illustrated, but on the basis of the description given in the text it belonged to the horizontal type of globular flask (FS191). 34. A provenance from Balabish can be suggested on the basis of the number ‘50’ written in pencil on the exterior of the vessel. Wainwright found 3 pilgrim flasks in tomb group 50 (Wainwright 1920: 57-58, pl. XXI, XXIV, 46 and 47) and ECM1971 fits well the description of one of the smaller one given in the text: ‘One of the smaller ones still had remains of ointment inside, and was cracked’. 35.Nordström and Bourriau 1993: 181-182, pl. VII: a-c, e-f. 36.Knudsen 2003: 91-92. 37.Anderson 1990: 46-47, endnote 6. 38.Frances and McGovern 1993: 94-102 39.Nordström and Bourriau 1993:77-178, pl. V: d-f, i-j. 40.Davis 1998: 308. 41.Davis 1998: 309-310.

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Bibliography Amiran, R. 1970. Ancient Pottery of the Holy Land, New Brunswick, NJ

Anderson, W. 1990. ‘The beginning of Phoenician Pottery: vessel shape, style, and ceramic technology in the early phases of the Phoenician Iron Age’, Bulletin of the American School of Oriental Research, 279 (August), 35-54

Anderson, W. 2004. ‘An archaeology of Late Antique pilgrim flasks’, Anatolian Studies, 54, 79-93

Arnold, D.E. 1994. ‘Patterns of Learning, Residence and Descent among Potters in Ticul, Mexico’, in S.J Shennan (ed.), Archaeological Approaches to Social Identity, London, 174–184

Ayrton E., Culley M. and Weigal A. 1904. Abydos 3, London

Bubenheimer Erhart, F. 2006. ‘Aspects of Egyptian religion in archaic Etruria (7th – 6th centuries BC)’, Aegyptus and Pannonia 3, 11-26

Bourriau, J. 1981. Umm el-Ga’ab. Pottery from the Nile Valley before the Arab Conquest, Cambridge

Bourriau, J. 2004. ‘The beginning of amphora production in Egypt’, in J. Bourriau and J. Phillips (eds.), Invention and Innovation. The Social Context of Technological Change 2. Egypt, the Aegean and the Near East, 1650-1150 BC, Oxford, 78-95

Bourriau, J. 2010. Kom Rabia. The New Kingdom Pottery, London

Bourriau, J. and Phillips, J. (eds.) 2004. Invention and Innovation. The Social Context of Technological Change 2. Egypt, the Aegean and the Near East, 1650-1150 BC, Oxford

Davis, S.J. 1998. ‘Pilgrimage and the cult of Saint Thecla in Late Antique Egypt’ in D. Frankfurter (ed.), Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, Leiden, Boston, Koln, 303-339

Frances, J.W. and McGovern, P.E. 1993. The Late Bronze Egyptian Garrison at Beth Shan: a Study of Levels VII and VIII, Philadelphia

Furumark, A. 1941. The Mycenaean pottery. Analysis and classification, Stockholm

Grossmann, P. 1998. ‘The pilgrim centre of Abu Mina’, in D. Frankfurter (ed.), Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, Leiden, Boston, Koln, 281- 302

Hope, C. A. 1989. 'Amphorae of the New Kingdom', in C. A. Hope, Pottery of the Egyptian New Kingdom, Three Studies, Burwood (Victoria), 87-126

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Judas, B.A. 2010. Late Bronze Age Aegean ceramics in the Nile Valley: An analysis of idea and practice represented in the archaeological record, PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania

Knudsen, J. 2003. ‘Manufacturing methods of pilgrim flasks and related vessels from Cemetery 500 at el-Ahaiwah’, in C. Redmount and C. Keller (eds.), Egyptian Pottery. Proceedings of the 1990 Pottery Symposium at the University of California, Berkeley, Berkeley, 87-94

Leonard, A. Jr. 1981. ‘Consideration of morphological variation in the Mycenaean pottery from the South-eastern Mediterranean’, Bulletin of the American School of Oriental Research, 241 (Winter), 87-101

Leonard, A. Jr. 1994. An Index to the Late Bronze Age Aegean Pottery from Syria- Palestine (SIMA 94), Jonsered

Mommsen, H., Beier, T., Diehl, U. And Podzuweit, C. 1992. ‘Provenance determination of Mycenaean sherds found at Tell el Amarna by Neutron Activation Analysis’, Journal of Archaeological Science, 19, 295-302

Mountjoy, P.A. 1993. Mycenaean pottery: An introduction, Oxford

Petrie, W.M.Fl. 1891. Illahun, Kahun and Gurob 1889-1890, London

Nordström H.A. and Bourriau J.D.,1993. ‘Ceramic Technology: Clays and Fabrics. Fascicle 2’, in Do. Arnold and J.D. Bourriau (eds.), An Introduction to Ancient Egyptian Pottery, Mainz, 142-190

Reeves, N. 1999. ‘Ancient Egypt in the Myers Museum’, in S. Spurr, N. Reeves and S. Quirke, Egyptian Art at Eton College: selections from the Myers Museum, Windsor, New York

Reeves and Quirke 1999. ‘Catalogue’ in S. Spurr, N. Reeves and S. Quirke, Egyptian Art at Eton College: selections from the Myers Museum, Windsor, New York

Schiffer, M.B. and Skibo, J.M. 1987. ‘Theory and experiment in the study of technological change’, Current Anthropology, 28, issue 5 (Dec.), 595-622 Shortland, A.J. 2001. The Social Context of Technological Change. Egypt and the Near East, 1650-1550 BC, Oxford

Wainwright, G.A. 1920. Balabish, London van Wijngaarden, G. J. 2002. Use and Appreciation of Mycenaean Pottery in the Levant, Cyprus and Italy (1600-1200 BC), Amsterdam

Yasur-Landau, A. 2005. ‘Old wine in new vessels: intercultural contact, innovation and the Aegean, Canaanite and Philistine foodways’, Tell Aviv 32, 168-191

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Intercultural Communication: Egypt and Nubia c. 2543-1076BC

By Carl Graves

Egypt’s involvement in Nubia is a topic much studied by Egyptologists over the last century. However, Nubia’s influence over Egypt is less well considered. Nevertheless, the reciprocal nature of the contact between these two geographic regions is worthy of investigation. Upon receiving a selection of objects on loan from the Eton College Joseph William Myers Collection last year, the first object that caught my eye was the faience head of a Nubian (ECM822). This object provoked me to choose this topic for display in the ‘Connections’ exhibition. On closer inspection, the collection contained other tems specific to Nubian culture, including four fragments of Pan Grave pottery; providing a corpus of material from which the subject of Nubian and Egyptian interaction can be discussed.

The Nile: An Interactive Highway

Nubia is a region stretching south from the area around the First Cataract (the traditional southern border of Egypt) into modern Sudan (fig.1). Traditionally the area was divided into Lower (Northern) and Upper (Southern) Nubia, just like Egypt, these were named Wawat and Kush respectively. Unlike Egypt however, the region was not united under one common culture for much of its early history. Instead we can discern three specific groups of people; the A and C-Groups,1 the Pan Grave people2 and the Kushites3 Each group had their own distinct cultural assemblage, customs and settlement sites, although there were also many common features which they shared – and from which they are now denoted as ‘Nubian’ cultures.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Nubiology When compared to Egyptology, Nubiology is a relatively young discipline. Early excavations in Nubia focused on the Egyptian remains and often assigned Nubian ruins an Egyptian origin – mostly due to semi-racist and colonial views.4 During the salvation campaigns preceding the construction of the High Dam at Aswan in the 1960s, Nubian monuments and remains were heavily excavated. Since then Egyptologists, and a new breed of Nubiologists, have been studying the excavation reports from these campaigns to further understand the relationship between these two northern African regions. The most recent findings at Kerma in Upper Nubia have brought to light an advanced Sudanese civilization which challenges past studies regarding Egyptian involvement in Nubia.5

Contact in Context

The early unification of Egypt (c. 2900BC)6 is not mirrored in Nubia. The three Nubian populations continued to develop their individual cultural traditions and posed little threat to a united northern kingdom.

The Egyptian Old Kingdom rulers exploited Lower Nubian resources and people by establishing a small community at the site of Buhen.7 During the First Intermediate Period however, this presence disappeared.

The Middle Kingdom Pharaohs aimed to control all of Lower Nubia and succeeded in establishing a system of fortresses along the Nile up to the second cataract at Semna.8 While military in appearance, texts indicate that its primary role was to facilitate trade with the kingdoms of Central Africa – likely through the emerging kingdom of Kerma.9 During this period the Egyptians interacted very little with the local populations and Nubian sites exhibit very little Egyptian imports or cultural adaptations at this point.10

In the Second Intermediate Period there is evidence of a threatening southern power emerging. The prosperity gained by the kingdom of Kerma from contact with Egypt during the preceding centuries had helped it develop into a powerful Upper Nubian (Kushite) kingdom. An inscription recently translated in the tomb of Sobekhotep at El-Kab in Upper Egypt records an attack on his town by a Nubian army.11 We also know that during this period those governors remaining at the Egyptian fortresses in Lower Nubia were working for the ‘Ruler of Kush’, despite constructing temples to Egyptian deities.12 Clearly this period, while seen as a ‘dark age’ in Egypt, was one of prosperity and advancement for the kingdom of Kerma.

The campaigning Seventeenth and Eighteenth Dynasty pharaohs ended this successful period and destroyed the city of Kerma.13 They finally established Egyptian rule over all Nubia and constructed huge ‘Temple Towns’ in the region,14 while regenerating the older Middle Kingdom forts.15 This period saw an acculturation between the Egyptians and Nubians,16 which secured Egyptian hegemony over Nubian culture for centuries after.

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Figure 2: ECM822, a faience Nubian head. © IAA University of Birmingham.

This period of contact between the two populations resulted in depictions of Nubians in Egyptian art – often very stereotypically. They are regularly shown with flat noses, thick lips and stern facial expressions. ECM822 is an exceptional example of this traditional Egyptian style (fig. 2). It depicts the head of a Nubian (broken from the neck down) made in Egyptian faience, with a suspension loop on the back of the neck. The hair is made into a cruciform pattern, highlighted by the application of black manganese paint, with holes drilled for earrings and a hair-ring to be inserted into the piece. A monkey has been fashioned on each shoulder, an animal traditionally associated with Nubian trading commodities. The modelling of ECM822 is stylistically similar to depictions in the New Kingdom Tomb of Huy, the Viceroy of Kush under Tutankhamun. A scene showing Nubians bringing tribute depicts them all in this typical Nubian style, which differentiates them from the native Egyptians also shown in the scene.17 One of the ‘Chieftains of Wawat’ portrayed bowing down in the tomb of Huy is named Hekanefer, Prince of Miam (modern Aniba). His tomb is located at Toshka East, where he is represented in an entirely Egyptian style.18 The adoption by Hekanefer of an Egyptian name and artistic style shows a desire for Nubians to adapt, whether through personal ambition or force, to the styles of their northern overlords. However, this stereotypical image is maintained in Egypt throughout the pharaonic period.

The Pan Grave Culture

While Kerma grew in importance during the Second Intermediate period in Upper Nubia, the Pan Grave people were adapting to different situations in Lower Nubia. The Pan Grave people were so-named by William Flinders Petrie because of their shallow circular burial pits,19 often characterised by their distinguishable pottery. The weakening of the traditional Egypto-Nubian border during the decentralisation of Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period allowed the Pan Grave nomadic groups to migrate north and into Upper Egypt.20 They appear to have originated from the Eastern Deserts of Sudan and perhaps as far away as the Red Sea21 but settled in Egypt at various points along the Nile during the late Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period, as far north as Middle Egypt.22

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Balabish: Nubians in Egypt

Balabish is just one place where Pan Grave burials have been found. Excavated in 1915 by Wainwright for the American branch of the Egypt Exploration Society,23 much of the finds were disseminated across institutions in the United States – however, a few fragments of the Balabish pottery have been located in the Eton College Myers collection. Among these sherds are four which are clearly Pan Grave, distinguishable in the Balabish publication as B-ware types 3, 4 and 5 (due to their characteristic ‘collar’ rims, pl. XIV).

These sherds (ECM1944 and 1947, figs. 3 and 4) exhibit a smooth burnished black interior. The exteriors are also burnished red with a carefully applied blackening from the top to the depth of the modelled rim. All these sherds come from open vessels, which is a characteristic feature of Pan Grave assemblages. All closed forms found at Balabish, and other Pan Grave sites, are Egyptian in origin indicating that this group received their transported goods through communication with Egyptians in the Nile Valley. Those closed forms found at Balabish are of an Upper Egyptian origin probably from the Theban area.24

Petrie dated the Pan Grave culture to the Second Intermediate Period and further research has proven this chronology.25 Using Bourriau’s analysis of the Kamose texts it can be postulated that the area of Balabish was under the jurisdiction of the Theban rulers during this period.26 That the closed form Egyptian pots found at the site were of an Upper Egyptian type is therefore unsurprising. Other scholars have shown that the Pan Grave people could be equated with the Medjay of later texts and were perhaps employed by the Hyksos and Thebans as mercenaries.27 Bourriau’s theory promoted the idea that they were in fact used to guard the border between the two kingdoms.28 Our Pan Grave pottery therefore indicates the cultural wares that distinguish this group from Egyptians buried in other nearby cemeteries. But the Egyptian imports found with them indicate an intercultural connection between the two groups – in this case as payment.

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Evidence for the Pan Grave culture is not found in Egypt after the Eighteenth Dynasty. There could be many reasons for this, such as: the Pan Grave people were no longer needed following unification and so returned to their Nubian heartland, they became casualties of the unification battles, or their material culture changed. This final theory is one that wins favour with the other sites such as Mostagedda and Riffeh.29 During the campaigns of the Seventeenth Dynasty Theban rulers the Pan Grave people likely determined the strength of the Hyksos-Theban border. Once they switched sides to the Thebans (as is shown at Mostagedda) the Upper Egyptians had a clear path to the Hyksos capital of Avaris in the Delta.30 At this point an increasing amount of Egyptian pottery types and other goods (such as kohl tubes and jewellery) can be seen in the Pan Grave burials.31 This, together with changing funerary practices, indicates an Egyptianisation of the Pan Grave people and greater interaction between this cultural group and the local Egyptian neighbours in the Nile Valley.32

But was this development one-way? Did the Egyptians adopt any Nubian traditions?

Reciprocal Communication

Egypto-Nubian interaction during the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period is a very complex topic. The Egyptians exercised a strong military presence in Nubia itself, but Nubians migrating into Egypt during the late Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period indicate that control of the population was not the primary role of the fortress system. Burials in Egypt from the Second Intermediate Period have been found to contain the distinctive ‘Kerma Classique’ beaker ware, with a highly polished red, black- topped exterior with flaring rims.33 While some of these may be Kerma people settling in Egypt, another theory could be that these burials belong to wealthy Egyptians who saw these objects as prestige pieces – no doubt due to their technological beauty.

Another possible adoption from this period is the controversial theory of a Nubian origin for the god Bes, a bow legged dwarf god believed to protect women and children, particularly during childbirth. He was a prominent domestic deity and depictions of Bes appear frequently in urban contexts. Bes was initially assigned a Nubian origin because of titles he is given at the Roman temple of Dendera, where he is named ‘Lord of Punt’.34 Romano showed in 1980 that this origin is almost certainly wrong. ‘Bes-images’ have been found in Egypt dating to the early Middle Kingdom and are stylised from the image of a lion on its hind legs.35 Bes himself is likely an amalgamation of various apotropaic dwarf deities, such as Aha (‘the fighter’). However, Romano points out that during the reign of Amenhotep II the Bes-image adapts the once leonine features of the god into a more anthropomorphic form – but gives no reason as to why this could be.36 A finely crafted amulet of this later form of Bes can be seen in ECM1666 (fig. 5). The features of the god now exhibit the flatter nose and thicker lips often associated with depictions of Nubian’s during this period (as we saw in ECM822).

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ECM1666 shows Bes standing with the traditional bow-legs and mane-like beard adopted from the leonine image. However, the clearly human eyes, nose and mouth date the piece stylistically to the New Kingdom or later, as do the plumed headdress and muscular limbs. The plumed headdress has before been likened to the headdress worn by Anukis, a goddess worshiped at the First Cataract region and also associated with Nubia.37

While I have no doubt that the Bes-image in its earliest form is an Egyptian creation, likely modelled on the figure of a lion on hind legs, I believe that the adoption of Nubian traits into the figure of Bes should be taken into account. The early New Kingdom rulers engaged in wars with the Nubian kingdom of Kush and were also instigating an acculturation and interaction policy within their southern colonies. The influx of Nubians into Egypt during the Second Intermediate Period can also not be discounted. The increasing contact between the two cultures and changes in the ethnic demography within Egypt could be to blame for the changes seen at the time in the Bes-image.

An Interactive Legacy

Egypto-Nubian relations did not end after the New Kingdom. Nubia continued to grow as an economic power, especially in the south around Gebel Barkal. During the Late Period (c. 753) Pi(ankh)y, ruler of this region, campaigned North into Egypt overthrowing the local rulers of the Nile Delta, establishing the 25th Dynasty.38 This dynasty of kings ruled Egypt and Nubia for the next 100 years continually adapting and combining the two, now almost inseparable, cultures.

Contact between Nubia and Egypt clearly resulted in the transfer of traditions and development of iconographic styles. There is no other way to explain why finds at Meroe, 1500km by Nile (850km direct) south of the First Cataract, are unmistakably Egypto-Nubian hybrid in style. The topics of Nubiology and Egyptology both deserve their separate disciplines, but a multidisciplinary approach should be used, as I have here, to better understand how these cultures interacted.

Endnotes

1. The C Group were descended from the A Group who disappeared from records during the Egyptian Old Kingdom; Kendall 2007: 405. 2. The Pan Grave people were a group of ‘semi-nomadic cattle breeders’, Bourriau 1981: 30.

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3. The Kushites were usually labelled ‘Nehesy’ by the Egyptians. They settled around the city of Kerma in Upper Nubia; Edwards 2004: 75. 4. These views persisted for many years in Egyptology, as exemplified by the publication of Reisner’s excavations at Kerma. He assumed that Kerma was an Egyptian outpost where intermarriage between Egyptians and Nubians had resulted in racial degeneration; Reisner 1923: 556. 5. The most recent excavations at the New Kingdom site of Doukki Gel have found three Egyptian temples alongside a contemporary circular mud brick Nubian temple; Bonnet 2009: 14. 6. All dates in this essay follow Hornung et al. 2006: 490-495. 7. There is evidence of Egyptians taking Nubians as slaves to Egypt while also exploiting gold reserves; Emery 1963: 116. 8. Kemp 2007: 231. 9. Various sources add to our understanding of the Middle Kingdom fort system. The Semna Dispatches imply that military monitoring aided a trading network (Smither 1945) – the stelae of Senwosret III erected at Semna during years 8 and 16 also imply this; Lichtheim 1973: 119 and S. Smith 1991: 126. Kemp sees the system as a grain supply route to aid military campaigns further south; Kemp 1986: 128. The kingdom of Kerma may be equated to the historic location of Yam, mentioned in Old Kingdom sources; Kendall 2007: 406. 10. S. Smith 1997: 67. 11. Davies 2003: 53. 12. Stela Philadelphia 10984 recounts how Sepedhor (Goevernor of Buhen) constructed a temple to Horus, Lord of Buhen ‘to the satisfaction of the Ruler of Kush’; Säve-Söderbergh 1949: 55 and H. Smith 1976: 56. 13. Inscriptions of Tuthmosis I by the Fifth Cataract show that the kingdom of Kerma was defeated by his reign; Arkell 1955: 83-84. The autobiography of Ahmose, son of Abana, also records the military campaigns of this pharaoh in Nubia; Lichtheim 1976: 14. 14. Soleb and Sesebi are examples of Temple Towns established by Amenhotep III and IV respectively; Kemp 1972: 651. 15. S. Smith 1995: 137. A stela of Kamose dated to year 3 of his reign also indicates building work at the site of Buhe; H. Smith 1976: 8. 16. Frandsen 1979: 169. 17. Davies and Gardiner 1926: Plate XXVII. 18. Simpson 1963: Figure 7. 19. Petrie 1901: 45. 20. Bourriau 1981: 30. 21. Edwards 2004: 100-101. 22. Rifeh is the northern extent of Pan Grave pottery finds (with the exception of an isolated sherd from Kahun, Kemp 1977); Bourriau 1981: 27. 23. Wainwright 1920: 35-52. 24. Bourriau 1981: 30. 25. Petrie 1901: 48. 26. Bourriau 1999: 44. 27. Edwards 2004: 99. 28. Bourriau 1999: 46. 29. Bourriau 1999: 46.

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30. The attack on the Hyksos capital is recorded in the Kamose stelae; H. Smith and A. Smith 1976: 60. 31. Increasing Egyptian objects in Pan Grave burials at Balabish provoked Wainwright to propose that contact with Egypt was occurring; Wainwright 1920: 51. Second Intermediate Period Egyptian objects also occur in Pan Grave burials at Diospolis Parva; Petrie 1901: 47. 32. Bourriau 1999: 44. 33. The Kerma Classique beaker wares are so heavily polished that the fabric has a metallic sheen; Edward 2004: 85. 34. Altenmüller 1973: 721. Punt is often discussed in relation to the scene of a journey there represented on the walls of the Temple of Hatshepsut at Deir el- Bahari – the exact location of Punt is unknown, but is certainly south of Egypt, perhaps along the coast of the Red Sea. 35. Romano 1980: 41-42. 36. Romano 1980: 46. 37. Bonnet 1952: 102. 38. Pi(ankh)y’s campaigns are recorded on a victory stela; Lichtheim 1980: 66-84.

Bibliography

Altenmüller, H. 1973. ‘Bes’, LÄ I, 720-724.

Arkell, A. J. 1955. A History of the Sudan: From the Earliest Times to 1821. London.

Bonnet, C. 2009. ‘Dukki Gel: Temples and Fortifications’, in M. Honegger, C. Bonnet, & Collab (eds), Archaeological Excavations at Kerma (Sudan): Documents de la mission archéologique suisse au Soudan (I), Neuchâtel, 14- 17.

Bonnet, H. 1952. Reallexikon der ägyptischen Religionsgeschichte. Berlin.

Bourriau, J. 1981. ‘Nubians in Egypt During the Second Intermediate Period: An Interpretation Based on the Egyptian Ceramic Evidence’, in Do. Arnold (ed.), Studien zur Altägyptischen Keramik, Mainz, 25-41.

Bourriau, J. 1999. ‘Some Archaeological Notes on the Kamose Texts’, in A. Leahy and J. Tait (eds), Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honour of H. S. Smith, London, 43-48.

Davies, N.G. and Gardiner, A. 1926. The Tomb of Huy, Viceroy of Nubia in the Reign of Tutankhamun. London.

Davies, W.V. 2003. ‘Kush in Egypt: A new historical inscription’, Sudan & Nubia 7, 52-55.

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Edwards, D. 2004. The Nubian Past: An Archaeology of the Sudan. Oxford and New York.

Emery, W. B. 1963. ‘Egypt Exploration Society: Preliminary Report on the Excavations at Buhen, 1962’, Kush 11, 116-120.

Frandsen, J. 1979. ‘Egyptian Imperialism’, in M.T. Larsen (ed.), Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires, Copenhagen, 167-190.

Hornung, E., Krauss, R., and Warburton, D. (eds) 2006. Ancient Egyptian Chronology, Leiden and Boston.

Kemp, B. 1972. ‘Fortified Towns in Nubia’, in P. Ucko, R. Tringham and G. Dimbleby (eds), Man, Settlement and Urbanism, London, 651-656.

Kemp, B. 1977. ‘An Incised Sherd from Kahun, Egypt’, JNES 36, 289-292.

Kemp, B. 1986. ‘Large Middle Kingdom Granaries and the Archaeology of Administration’, ZÄS 113, 120-136.

Kemp, B. 2007. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilization. London and New York.

Kendall, T. 2007. ‘Egypt and Nubia’, in T. Wilkinson (ed.), The Egyptian World, Trowbridge, 401-416.

Lichtheim, M. 1973. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume I, The Old and Middle Kingdoms. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London.

Lichtheim, M. 1976. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume II, The New Kingdom. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London.

Lichtheim, M. 1980. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume III, The Late Period. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1901. Diospolis Parva: The Cemeteries of Abadiyeh and Hu, 1898-9. London and Boston.

Reisner, G.A. 1923. Excavations at Kerma, vol. V. Cambridge, MASS.

Romano, J. 1980. ‘The Origin of the Bes-Image’, BES 2, 39-56.

Säve-Söderbergh, T. 1949. ‘A Buhen Stela from the Second Intermediate Period (Kharţūm no. 18)’, JEA 35, 50-58.

Simpson, W. K. 1963. Heka-Nefer and the Dynastic Material from Toshka and Arminna. New Haven and Philadelphia.

Smith, H. S. 1976. The Fortress of Buhen: The Inscriptions. London.

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Smith, H. S. and Smith, A. 1976. ‘A Reconsideration of the Kamose Texts’, ZÄS 103, 48-78.

Smith, S. T. 1991. ‘Askut and the Role of the Second Cataract Forts’, JARCE 28, 107-132.

Smith, S. T. 1995. Askut in Nubia: The Economics and Ideology of Egyptian Imperialism in the Second Millennium B.C. London and New York.

Smith, S. T. 1997. ‘State and Empire in the Middle and New Kingdoms’, in A. B. Knapp (ed.), Anthropology and Egyptology, Sheffield, 66-89.

Smither, P.C. 1945. ‘The Semnah Despatches’, JEA 31, 3-10.

Wainwright, G. A. 1920. Balabish. London and Boston.

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Visualizing Ideology: The message of the crowned-falcon amulets

By Steven R. W. Gregory

The studied collection1 contains more than 130 objects which may be described as amulets, ornaments or small pieces of jewellery, of which the present study will focus on three examples (fig.1) each depicting a falcon wearing the dual-crown headdress of the king of Upper and Lower Egypt.2 Little can be said of the provenance of these objects other than that they were collected by Myers during his time in Egypt between 1883 and 1896, possibly from the region of Tuna el-Gebel.3 Therefore the message conveyed by such portable objects must be sought within the context of the amuletic form, and of the cultural background informing their manufacture and use.

Figure 1: The crowned-falcon amulets. Left – ECM6401 Centre – ECM1530 Right – ECM726 © IAA University of Birmingham.

Amulets in context4

Amulets were used from the earliest periods of pharaonic Egypt in contexts relating to both the living and the dead. Those wrapped in the mummification bandages of the deceased may take the form of parts of the human body intended to act as replacements for parts damaged or lost during life. Others clearly had apotropaic properties thought to afford the wearer, in this life or the next, some protection against evil or danger and as such may today be thought of as a lucky charm or talisman; and references to such objects in the surviving ancient Egyptian literature confirm this purpose for amuletic forms such as the wedjat-eye.5 Other literary sources refer to amulets as meket, nehet, or sa, all words derived from verbs expressing protection.6 Some objects of this class take the form of hieroglyphs which themselves express abstract qualities beneficial to the wearer; here examples include the ankh

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt and djed pillar: indicative of the concepts of ‘life’ and ‘stability’ respectively. It may be assumed that the falcon amulets subject of the present discussion endowed similar benefits, however, the exact nature of their purpose is not immediately apparent from their form. The falcon, in ancient Egyptian thought, was representative of ideas relating to both kingship and to deities, particularly those linked with the sky and solar power,7 and, as more than half of the Myers amulets depict similar theomorphic subjects, it is largely within this context that the symbolism of the crowned falcon will be considered further.

Theomorphic amulets

Amulets portraying deities are thought to have empowered the wearer with attributes of the particular god depicted.8 Similarly, amulets specifically associated with kingship – such as those portraying crowns normally worn only by kings and certain gods – when bound into mummy wrappings of a commoner were thought to give the deceased royal and divine powers in the afterlife;9 but this hardly seems possible for the living. That many of the amulets in the collection were intended for this life, including the crowned falcon amulets subject of the present discussion, is apparent from the inclusion of suspension holes to facilitate their use as a pendant.10 In the absence of any definitive explanation as to the past purpose of such objects comparison with items of personal display from more recent times may be productive.

In most present day societies an icon may be worn with some degree of compulsion, as in the case of a regimental crest worn by a serving member of the armed forces, or from choice, as might be indicated by a golf club member wearing the club’s insignia; but in either case the wearer is identified with a set of specific ideas, beliefs, or values. Such ideas are thereby reinforced for the wearer and transmitted, in a form of non-verbal communication, to other observers as a statement of belonging, of inclusion within the specific group iconographically represented; and there seems no reason to suppose that this was not the case in the ancient Egyptian cultural milieu. And, while it may be argued that an icon may be worn, or otherwise displayed, in partial or complete ignorance of its significance – perhaps exemplified by the purchase of a club scarf from a second hand shop by an unwitting customer who merely wishes to keep warm – this could hardly be said of the original purchaser, nor the designer or manufacturer of the item concerned. Both, it may be assumed, would be fully aware of any symbolism attached to the object, and this would seem to be true in all cases, both in present day societies and in those of the ancient past. In addition to the apotropaic properties of amulets in general the deity amulets may, therefore, signify personal allegiance to an individual deity; but there are alternative explanations.

It is clear from extant literary sources that the deities were believed to be influential in human affairs, for good or ill, and therefore needed to be controlled or appeased; and the wearing of amulets may have been thought to be efficacious in this respect. The wearing of a theomorphic amulet may also suggest relationship with a particular place or activity, for example: Thoth is

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt associated with Hermopolis; Min and Seth with deserts; and Ptah may identify the wearer as a craftsman or artisan, yet equally with Memphis. Other deities, associated with specific temples or distinct locations within a temple complex, may similarly associate the amulet wearer with that place or institution. It may also be germane that theophorous names were commonplace –Amunemwia, Minmose, Gemiamun, and Hori being some of the many used during the New Kingdom11 – suggesting amulets may have been worn to reinforce and convey aspects of personal identity.

Thus the range of information regarding the self which may be conveyed by a theomorphic amulet seems quite wide, and there seems no reason to preclude the possibility that all such types of information were pertinent to the overall layered symbolism of a particular object. However, while such considerations may be pertinent for all theomorphic amulets, including falcon amulets such as the example in the collection shown at fig. 2, it seems that there may be a further dimension to the examples depicting the crowned falcon. This combination of symbols has specific meaning as a motif used in the decoration of state monuments where the artistic repertoire was informed by the ideological principles of pharaonic culture itself. Therefore the message communicated by the crowned-falcon amulets may be investigated further with reference to the texts and images of the ritual landscape, particularly those expressing the mythological origins of kingship and the cosmos.

Ideological considerations

The ancient myths expressed the belief that the cosmos was created from the nun, a primordial fluid chaos which contained only the potential for a structured universe; a potential which was realized by a demiurge who brought into being all the forces of nature.12 Many of the non-human aspects of creation, both those easily recognizable, such as light and moisture, and other perhaps more abstract qualities, such as infinity and hiddenness, came to be recognized in ancient Egyptian ideological discourse as netjeru, a term usually translated as ‘gods.’ The netjeru were initially responsible for maintaining ma‘at, the balanced and ordered perfection existing in the universe at the moment of creation which, as confirmed in texts such as Spell 175 of the Book of the Dead, was not thought to be permanent.13 At any time created order could revert to the chaos of the nun.

Responsibility for the maintenance of ma‘at subsequently passed to a mortal, the king; one chosen by the netjeru to become the embodiment of Horus, the regenerative aspect of the creator. Horus was the divine constant which passed from each mortal ruler to their successor. It was as the current embodiment of Horus that each living king acquired the legitimate authority to rule with absolute power in all matters relating to economic, military and civil administration. By proper exercise of his duties the king fulfilled the task of

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt universal husbandry, the maintenance of ma‘at,14 and thereby ensured the continuance of the created universe; circumstances rendering his role indispensable. In return for his divinely sanctioned authority the king was also required to build monuments for himself and the gods.15

Decorated with motifs alluding to the principles of ma‘at and kingship, monumental architecture was the principal medium for the expression of state ideology and formed the stage upon which rituals affirming that ideology were performed.16 Within this schema, the netjeru were given form and identity that they may be represented in pictorial and textual inscriptions; Horus appeared in a variety of forms but, when depicted as the divine element of the mortal king, almost always as a falcon, and often the falcon is shown wearing the dual crown of Upper and Lower Egypt.That Horus was understood to be the divine aspect of the king, his ka,17 is clear from motifs such as that shown in fig. 3 which portrays the ka of Thutmose III. Here, the outstretched arms of the ka hieroglyph support a serekh, the rectangular frame used to enclose the king’s Horus name from the early dynastic period onwards, surmounted by the motif of the crowned falcon. That the king’s full titulary begins with his Horus name (fig. 4) confirming that it is as the earthly manifestation of the god that his regal power is established. Thus the icon of the crowned falcon was appropriate to the king alone, and denotes his position as the sole intercessor between humankind and the netjeru; however, there were exceptions.

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A passage in Papyrus Brooklyn informs that in the New Year ritual for confirming royal power a falcon of tjehenet (faience) should be placed at the neck of the king or his substitute.18 That the king’s role in rituals could be assigned to a deputy is also apparent from a scene in the temple of Ramesses III at Medinet Habu in which an official accompanies the barque of Amun (fig. 5), a role otherwise undertaken by the king as evident in a similar scene at Karnak (fig. 6).19 The crowned-falcon amulet may, therefore, have been used to identify an official as the king’s deputy; and the fine quality of ECM1530 (fig. 1) suggests that it may have served this purpose. Amulets ECM726 and ECM1604 could have had a similar function, although their poorer quality suggests that they belonged to lower ranking members of society; in which case it is unlikely that they express the exercise of kingly power, rather convey allegiance to the crown; a tacit acceptance of beliefs enshrined in state philosophy.

Manufacture and technology

The use of the Horus amulet as a portable medium for dissemination of state propaganda to the wider populace is further indicated when considering the likely source of production.Faience is a non-clay ceramic material, similar to glass, composed of a compound of silica, alkali, lime, and copper oxide (or similar colourant); the sourcing of materials, technological processes of manufacture,20 and artistry involved in its production indicate a degree of organization.21 Little is known regarding the management of this industry,22 although the proximity of faience workshops to centres associated with royal cult activity gives some indication that the production was controlled by the state.23

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Conclusions

In summary, the number of examples of the crowned-falcon amulet in a relatively small collection suggests that they were quite commonplace objects. Their variance in size and quality allows that they served both to identify senior officials as acting for the king in the ritual environment, and as a relatively low cost and highly portable means by which a fundamental aspect of state ideology could be presented. This ideology, which found its most prominent expression in the somewhat esoteric environment of monumental architecture, could thus be easily disseminated to the wider population at a time when opportunities for communication were limited. In this respect, perhaps the source of manufacture or reasons why any individual would wear or carry such an amulet become less significant than the message it conveyed as, whether the wearer of such an icon exercised the power of the king or felt protected by that power, the motif declares a tacit recognition of the tenet that the continuance of the created universe was reliant upon the power of the Horus king. A message that sustained the order of the pharaonic state for more than three millennia.

Endnotes

1. The collection in question consists of objects on loan to the University of Birmingham from the Eton College Myers Collection. 2. ECM 1530, fashioned from deep blue faience, measures approximately 6.5cm in height and may be dated by the appearance of similar objects on a number of sculptures to the period from the 26th Dynasty onwards (Spurr et al. 1999: 52 and fig. 79). The detailed execution and matt finish of this piece are also indicative of its origins in the Twenty-fifth to Twenty-sixth Dynasty period (Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000: 184). ECM 726 and ECM 6401, also of blue faience, are slightly smaller pieces probably from the same period. 3. It is known, from a reference in his diaries, that on 3rd March 1897 Myers visited Tuna el Gebel (personal communication: Carl Graves). Other faience objects collected by Myers, and by his contemporaries, Wallis and MacGregor, have been attributed to Tuna el-Gebel by Ricketts (1918: 145). 4. For further references to the ancient contexts of amulets from the collection of items on loan from Eton College see the articles of N. Adderley and E. Millward, in this volume. 5. Wilkinson 1992: 43. 6. Andrews 1994: 6; Shaw and Nicholson 1995: 30-31. 7. Wilkinson 2003: 200. 8. Theomorphic amulets appear early in the dynastic period, initially in forms related to childbirth which depict Thoeris and Bes. The major deities are hardly represented except for some examples depicting the Horus falcon, Isis, and Hathor. The wide range of deities, as found in the amulets of the Eton Myers collection, appears only from the late New Kingdom onwards (Andrews 1994: 11-12; Shaw and Nicholson 1995: 30). 9. Andrews 1994: 75.

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10.Suspension loops are sometimes apparent in amulets found in a funerary context and it seems likely that these were worn by the deceased during life before being bound into the mummy wrappings so that the efficacy of the amulet would be available to the owner in the afterlife. 11. Many examples of theophorous names may be found in the Ramesside Letters (Wente 1990: 112-13). 12. Gregory S.R.W. 2012: 13. 13. In this text the demiurge, Atum, states: ‘Further, I shall destroy all that I have made, and this land will return into nun, into the floodwaters, as (in) its first state’. (Pritchard 1969: 9). For further translations of this text see Allen 1974: 184; and Assmann 2005: 136. 14. Bleeker (1967: 6-7), explains ma‘at as a concept, central to ancient Egyptian philosophy, which demonstrates the unity of all aspects of nature and culture; a further and more recent discussion of ma‘at as the embodiment of universal order is given by Karenga (2004: 177-184). 15. For further commentary upon the nature of ancient Egyptian king in relation to ma‘at see Lloyd 2000: 376, and also Richards 2010: 56-9. For further discussion regarding the development of such concepts and their relationship with the iconography and symbolism forming the ‘civilizational template’ of ancient Egypt, see Wegner 2010: 119. 16. O'Connor 1995: 276-9; Assmann 2001: 194. 17. The ka was a metaphysical aspect of the self which may equate to the Roman genius (Scheid 1996: 630), a part of the self, an inner double or an aspect of the self which might also be equated to the daimon of Greek conception which Plato described as the transcendental part of the mind received from god (Versnel 1996: 426; Goodman 1997: 129). 18. Papyrus Brooklyn 47.218.50, column xvi, lines 11-12 (Spurr et al. 1999: 52, fig. 79). For further explanation of this passage see J-Cl. Goyon (2003: 263 at 2. Les documents 4 et 7, l’épisode royal du ritual). 19. The Onomasticon of Amenope, a catalogue of groups of things compiled ‘for learning all things that exist’ – believed to have been written in the late New Kingdom (Kemp 1989: 29) – provides further textual evidence for the idea that an official may act on behalf of the king with reference to the ‘royal scribe and lector-priest [who functions] as Horus’ (Gardiner 1938: 164). 20. Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000: 177: 186. See also Kaczmarczyk (1983) for analysis of faience composition and production. 21. The finds of clay moulds used in the fashioning of faience amulets allows for mass production of such objects (Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000: 189). ECM1015, 1816, and 1818, all used in the production of papyrus bud amulets, are examples of such moulds which occur in the Eton Myers Collection (personal communication: Carl Graves). 22. The only tomb scene which may be identified with faience production is from the Twenty-sixth Dynasty Theban tomb of Ibi, TT36, but the activity portrayed is not confirmed by any textual reference (Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000: 178). 23. The earliest physical evidence of a faience workshop comes from a late Old Kingdom to Early Middle Kingdom context at Abydos and, at Lisht, a site was discovered in close proximity to the pyramid of Amenemhat I where, nearby, a tomb belonging to Debeni, ‘overseer of faience workers’, was also

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt discovered. Later ‘faience factories’ have been discovered at Malkata, Piramesses, Memphis, and Buto (Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000: 180-186).

Bibliography

Allen, T.G. 1974. The Book of the Dead or Going Forth by Day: ideas of the Ancient Egyptians concerning the hereafter as expressed in their own terms. The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 37, Chicago.

Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London.

Assmann, J. 2001. The Search for God in Ancient Egypt. Translated by David Lorton. Ithaca and London.

Assmann, J. 2005. Death and Salvation in Ancient Egypt. Translated by David Lorton. Ithaca and London.

Bleeker, C.J. 1967. Egyptian Festivals: Enactments of Religious Renewal. Leiden.

Gardiner, Sir A. 1938. ‘The House of Life’, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 24, 157-179.

Goodman, M. 1997. The Roman World 44BC – AD180. Oxford.

Goyon, J-Cl. 2003 ‘Le ritual du sHtp sxmt au changement de cycle annuel. Sources et documents, un état des questions’, in Z. A. Hawass and L. Pinch Brock (eds), Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-first Century: Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Egyptologists Cairo, 2000, Cairo, 261- 268.

Gregory, S.R.W. 2012. ‘The Obelisks of Augustus: The Significance of a Symbolic Element of the Architectural Landscape in the Transmission of Ideology from Egypt to Rome.’ Journal of Ancient Egyptian Interconnections 4-1: 9-30.

Kaczmarczyk, A. 1983. Ancient Egyptian Faience: an analytical survey of Egyptian faience from predynastic to Roman Times. Warminster.

Karenga, M. 2004. Maat. The Moral Ideal in Ancient Egypt: A Study in Classical African Ethics. London and New York.

Kemp, B.J. 1989. Ancient Egypt, Anatomy of a Civilization. London.

Lloyd, A.B. 2000. ‘The Late Period (664-332 BC)’, in I. Shaw (ed.), The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 369-394.

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Nicholson, P. and I. Shaw. 1995. British Museum Dictionary of Ancient Egypt. London.

Nicholson, P.T. with E. Peltenburg. 2000. ‘Egyptian Faience’, in P.T. Nicholson and I. Shaw (eds), Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, Cambridge, 177-194.

O'Connor, D. 1995. 'Beloved of Maat, the Horizon of Re: The Royal Palace in New Kingdom Egypt', in D. O'Connor and D. P. Silverman (eds), Ancient Egyptian Kingship, Leiden, 263-300.

Pritchard, J.B. (ed.) 1969. Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Third Edition with supplements, first edition published 1950. Princeton.

Richards, J. 2010. ‘Kingship and Legitimation’, in W. Wendrich (ed.), Egyptian Archaeology, Chichester, 55-84.

Ricketts, C. 1918. ‘Two Faience Chalices at Eton College from the Collection of the Late Major W.J. Myers’, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 5, 145-147.

Scheid, J. 1996. ‘Genius’, in S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth(eds), The Oxford Classical Dictionary,third edition, Oxford and New York, 630.

Shaw, I., and P. Nicholson. 1995. British Museum Dictionary of Ancient Egypt. London.

Spurr, S., N. Reeves, and S. Quirke. 1999. Egyptian Art at Eton College: selections from the Myers Museum. New York and Windsor.

Versnel, H.S. 1996. ‘daimon’, in S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth(eds), The Oxford Classical Dictionary,third edition, Oxford and New York, 426.

Wegner, J. 2010. ‘Tradition and Innovation: The Middle Kingdom’, in W. Wendrich (ed.), Egyptian Archaeology, Chichester, 119-142.

Wente, E. 1990. Letters From Ancient Egypt. Atlanta.

Wilkinson, R.H. 1992. Reading Egyptian Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Egyptian Painting and Sculpture. London.

Wilkinson, R.H. 2003. The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt. London.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Petitions to the Divine: Communication Through Votive Offerings at Egyptian Shrines

By Gabrielle Heffernan

The Ancient Egyptians saw continual divine involvement in the world around them. In particular they believed that the gods would grant petitions and answer requests that were brought to them by individuals. But how did the Egyptian people communicate these petitions to the gods, and what responses did they expect?

Votive offerings have been found at shrines and religious sites representing all periods of ancient Egyptian history.1 These offerings, which have been left by visitors to the shrine, represent a distinct form of communication – that of the sacred with the profane.2 This essay will look at the importance of these objects in the lives of those who used them and their intended purpose in the context of state-run shrines.

By looking at different aspects of votive offerings with reference to four objects found in the Eton Myers collection this paper will discuss the value of the objects as tools of communication. Before continuing it is important to note that without exact provenances it is difficult to ascertain for certain whether these objects were used as votives in shrines. However, the objects that have been chosen have counterparts which have been found in other shrines and so may be seen as examples of possible votive objects even if they, themselves, were not.

Why did the Egyptians visit shrines?

Egyptian temples were not usually accessible to those outside of the priestly classes,3 and cult complexes were designed so that the central, sacred areas were enclosed and access to them was restricted. Certain parts of the temple were, however, accessible to members of the public which ensured that communication with the divine was achievable by a far wider spread of people.4 These areas usually took the form of small public shrines which were attached to state temples, such as the ‘gegentempel’ of Amun who hears prayer at Karnak (see fig. 1).5 This shrine

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt was built in the New Kingdom and added to by kings such as Ramesses II and is found on the outer eastern wall of the enclosure of Amun.6 Gegentempels were usually attached to an outer wall of the temple that was close to, or aligned with, the shrine of the god or goddess within the main temple.7 This was to ensure that visitors to the shrine were able to be as close as possible to the deity. But these public shrines were not simply places for private people to show their devotion to the divine; they were sites where petitions were offered and requests made of the gods. It should be noted that votive offerings are not only found in the context of public shrines but were also left by the gates or causeways of temples or close to specific inaccessible areas (see fig. 2). As in the case of public shrines the intention here was to achieve physical proximity to the divine.

The context of votive offerings

The exact reasons that caused Egyptian people to leave votive offerings are not always clear, and it is probable that individuals each had their own specific motivations. But regardless of specific intentions, these objects were generally intended to represent an aspect of a spoken request from the supplicant to a deity. The focus of individual requests and of specific votives, however, is less certain - as has been noted, the request was oral and so there is no surviving evidence apart from the votive itself which might help to explain its meaning. Different types of votive may, however, have been intended to emphasise a specific part of the petition; some may have focused on the deity himself (or herself) as suggested by votive representations of divine figures; others may have been intended to serve as a reminder of the petition (perhaps a symbol linked to protection or fertility); a third group of items directed attention towards the act of communication itself.

1. The deity

Certain objects focussed on the attributes of the deity to whom they were addressed, thus demonstrating the devotion of the offering bringer as well as encouraging the good favour of the divine. Amulets and images representing a large variety of gods have been found in Egyptian shrines; an example of this is a blue faience Hathor mask (ECM1031, see fig. 3). This example originally had a suspension loop at the top and so may have also functioned as an amulet, but this does not preclude it having

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt been used as a votive offering as amulets were also left as votives at many sites.8 It is unifrontal (i.e. it only includes a design on one side) and the use of faience could further emphasise its intention as an object of devotion to Hathor, who was sometimes referred to as the ‘Lady of faience’.9 Hathor masks were commonly used as amulets10 and have been found at several sites such as the Hathor shrine at Deir el-Bahri.11 As well as being linked with Hathor these masks may have had symbolism relating to the concept of rebirth,12 and examples of bi-frontal Hathor masks may have been intended to allude to the dual nature of the goddess who was seen as both gentle and destructive.13 Objects representing specific deities may, therefore, have been intended to ‘catch the attention’ of the god or goddess and to demonstrate the devotion of the petitioner which would, in turn, encourage a favourable response to a request.

2. The petition

Figure 4: ECM723, faience figure of a squatting baboon. © IAA University of Birmingham.

Some votive objects were intended to focus on the petition itself thus acting as a continuous reminder to the divine of the request that had been put before them. An example of this can be found in the baboon votive shown at fig. 4 (ECM723). This example of a squatting baboon is made of blue-green faience with details applied in black manganese paint. Baboons have a connection with Thoth and so may have been intended to represent him14 but this was not their only symbolism. Baboons have been linked to fertility as well as the protection of mother and child – pottery decorated with baboon images has been found in houses at Deir el-Medina and Bruyère suggested that they were linked to fertility,15 while images of baboons as protective animals have also been found on apotropaic objects16 from the Middle Kingdom and Second Intermediate Period17 and so it is possible that ECM723 was intended to support a plea either for success in conceiving a child or in protection of the mother and child in the future. A second object that may have had a connection with a request is the cobra amulet (ECM824, see fig. 5); this amulet is made of pale green faience and has a loop in the top, suggesting that this particular example may have originally

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt been worn. Similarly to baboons, snakes may have had a connection to fertility and protection and both also appeared on wands and knives.18 Objects, therefore, linked with fertility and childbirth as well as protective charms may have been left at shrines as a continuation of the petition.

3. The communication

A final category of votives focussed not on the deity or the petition but on the act of communication itself. Ear votives have been found at several sites such as the Temple of Ptah at Memphis19 and Deir el-Bahri20 and were probably intended to represent the ears of the deity, thus ensuring that they listened to the request that was being put to them. Another example of this category are eye votives which could take the form of wedjat eyes (ECM127, fig. 6) made of carnelian. Wedjat eyes have been primarily linked with Horus21 and may have been left at sites as an offering to him. Wilkinson has suggested that eyes were left as votives by people who had been cured of blindness.22 This, however, seems highly unlikely especially as this would imply that ear votives were left by people who had been cured of deafness and there is no evidence of this.23 Ears and eyes, therefore, appear to have been intended to ask the deity to hear petitions and to ‘watch over the safety of the devotee’.24 State- run temples, such as that at Memphis, were sometimes decorated with ears25 which can be seen as an attempt by the state to encourage the belief that the gods would hear the prayers of those that approached them. Such objects may, therefore, be understood as an attempt to ‘amplify’ the petition so that it would be properly heard and responded to. Of course, it is possible that the intended emphasis may have been on the power of the gods and the state as all seeing and all hearing, although whether this would have been recognised by the majority of visitors to the sites is debatable.

Votive offerings as a part of Egyptian culture

Votives can be seen in the context of a system whereby the living and other beings were in constant communication – assistance was sought in all aspects of life from protection to success, from dreams to fertility. Amulets were the most common medium – although often thought of simply as ’magical’ these objects requested a response from the divine and were often used as votives. Intermediary statues26 also helped people to gain access to the divine or to deceased ancestors – for example, the statues of Amenhotep son of Hapu were erected at Karnak27 so that people who may not be able to gain access to the inner parts of the temple may still have a way of communicating with the gods. Letters to the dead can be seen as another form of communication with those in the afterlife – these letters usually asked

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt for protection by the spirit, or for a malevolent spirit to stop causing harm. Again, the people writing these letters clearly hoped that they would be received by the addressee and acted upon. Ancestor busts and stelae may also be seen in a similar vein – these commemorated the dead but also retained for them a place in this world; the living communicated with them and in return the ancestor could respond. Votive offerings may, therefore, be seen as a part of a society which put a great amount of effort into communicating with both the divine and the dead and which saw this communication as vital to its welfare.

Votives as a symbol of communication with the divine

Votives were not merely art and neither were they simply symbols of devotion. They were a representation of a spoken petition and the expectation was that the petition would be answered. The state encouraged this form of communication by building gegentempels although it is possible that the fact that the shrines were state-run and connected to larger state temples limited the freedom of expression at these sites. Pinch has argued that the similarity between votive faience and comparable items found in royal tombs suggests that many of the votives were made in an official context, which implies a high level of state control of the manufacture of votive activity.28 In this sense votives may be seen not as representation of a personal and private communication with the divine but as an adherence to accepted norms and social behaviours within a religious setting – the concept of ‘decorum’ postulated by Baines may not be entirely applicable in this context but it is likely that a level of control was practiced within state-run shrines although this may be more applicable to the restricted areas of the temples rather than to the public gegentempels.29 Votives that were not left in state-run public shrines but outside of temple gateways or next to causeways does suggest a genuine desire by the petitioner to communicate with the divine and the inclusion of offerings such as flint nodules (which were probably offered by those who could not afford to purchase objects to use as votives) at shrines does suggest, however, that state involvement was not the only reason for votive activity. It is, unfortunately, difficult to know what words or actions may have accompanied the dedication of offerings – perhaps there were accepted forms of offering ‘ritual’ to accompany the presentation of objects, or perhaps each visitor had his or her own personal routine. Either way each votive object is ‘not simply an artefact, it is the surviving part of an act of worship’30 and the predominant part of that worship was a two-way communication with the divine.

Endnotes

1. Early examples have been found from sites such as Hierakonpolis (Quibell et al. 1900: pls. xviii, xx-xxii although it is probable that a large proportion of these items were royal votives) and Elephantine (Dreyer 1986: taf. 11-42 show a range of objects and votives found at Elephantine) while New Kingdom votives were left a shrines at Deir el-Bahri, Gebel Zeit and Mirgissa Pinch 1993:

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2. See Georganteli et al. 2010. 3. Spencer 1984: 81 suggests that some areas of the temple may have been accessible to selected members of the public at specific times (in this case the wsx.t Hby.t). Griffin 2007: 81 disagrees, concluding that the common people (rḫyt) ‘were present in the temple[s] metaphysically and not physically’. 4. Divine festivals, which were a common feature of Egyptian life, also ensured that gods were accessible to the people. 5. See Arnold 1994: 91 for discussion of ‘gegenkapelles’ (gegentempels). 6. Blyth 2006: 89 7. Further examples can be found at Deir el-Medina, the temple of Ptah at Memphis, Kalabsha and Dendara (Arnold 1994: 91). 8. Pinch 1993: 282-300. 9. Shaw et al. 2002: 119. 10. Pinch 1993: 154. 11. Pinch 1993: pl. 2, includes an example of a similarly designed Hathor mask, although there was a great variety of styles of this object including moulded shapes, painted images and plaques (Pinch 1993: pls. 6c, 27c-d, 28, 31). 12. Pinch 1993: 159. 13. Bleeker 1973: 61-62. 14. Petrie and Currelly, 1906 note an image of a baboon at Serabit el-Khadim which suggests that Thoth was worshipped in baboon form at a shrine at the site, for example. 15. Bruyère 1939: 102. 16. These are objects that are intended to ward off evil. Bourriau 1988: 116- 117 includes an image of an apotropaic statuette of a baboon but notes that baboons are also depicted on similarly intended wands and knives. 17. Bourriau et al. 1988: 116-117. 18. Bourriau et al. 1988: 117. 19. Petrie and Walker 1909: 7. 20. Naville and Hall 1913: 16. 21. Shaw et al. 2002: 133. 22. Wilkinson 1878: 357. 23. Pinch 1993: 257. 24. Naville and Hall 1913: 16. 25. Kemp 1989: 189. 26. These statues were set up by individuals who promised to pass on the petitions of those who visited them and left offerings for them to the intended deity (Otto 1948). 27. Galán 2003 28. Pinch 1993: 329. 29. Baines 1990: 20 emphasises that importance of ‘decorum’ which he refers to as ‘a set of rules defining what may be represented ... in which context and in what form’. He notes that decorum is focused on ‘enacting and representing the proper order of the world’ (Baines 2007: 16). 30. Pinch 1993: 339

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Bibliography

Arnold, D. 1994. Lexikon der ägyptischen Baukunst. Zürich.

Baines, J. 1990. Restricted Knowledge, Hierarchy and Decorum: Modern Perceptions and Ancient Institutions. Journal of the American Research Centre in Egypt, 27: 1-23.

Baines, J. 2007. Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt. Oxford.

Bleeker, C.J. 1973. Hathor and Thoth: Two key figures of the Ancient Egyptian Religion. Leiden.

Blyth, E. 2006. Karnak: Evolution of a Temple. London.

Bourriau, J., Quirke, S. and Fitzwilliam Museum. 1988. Pharaohs and Mortals: Egyptian art in the Middle Kingdom: exhibition organised by the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge 19 April to 26 June, Liverpool 18 July to 4 September 1988. Cambridge.

Bruyère, B. 1939. Rapport sur les fouilles de Deir El Médineh (1934-1935). Troisième partie: Le village, les décharges publiques, la station de repos du col de la Vallée de Rois. Cairo.

Dreyer, G. 1986. Der Tempel der Satet : die Funde der Frühzeit und des Alten Reiches. Mainz am Rhein.

Galán, J. 2003. ‘Amenhotep Son of Hapu as Intermediary between the People and God’. In Z. Hawass, (ed.) Egyptology at the Dawn of the Twenty-First Century: Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Egyptologists, Cairo, 2000. Cairo/New York, 221-229.

Georganteli, E., Bommas, M. and Barber Institute of Fine Arts. 2010. Sacred and Profane: Treasures of Ancient Egypt from the Myers Collection, Eton College and University of Birmingham. London.

Griffin, K. 2007. ‘A Reinterpretation of the Use and Function of the Rekhyt Rebus in New Kingdom Temples’. In M. Cannata, (ed.) Current Research in Egyptology 2006. Oxford, 66-84.

Kemp, B. 1989. Ancient Egypt: Anatomy of a Civilisation. London/New York.

Naville, E. and Hall, H. 1913. The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir El-Bahari. London.

Otto, E. 1948. Zur Bedeutung der ägyptischen Tempelstatue seit dem Neuen Reich. Orientalia, 17: 448-466.

Petrie, W.M.F. and Currelly, C.T. 1906. Researches in Sinai. London.

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Petrie, W.M.F. and Walker, J.H. 1909. Memphis I. London.

Pinch, G. 1993. Votive Offerings to Hathor. Oxford.

Porter, B. and Moss, R. 1991. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Reliefs and Paintings II. Theban Temples. Oxford.

Quibell, J.E., Green, F.W. and Petrie, W.M.F. 1900. Hierakonpolis. London.

Shaw, I., Nicholson, P.T. and British Museum. 2002. The British Museum Dictionary of Ancient Egypt. London.

Spencer, P. 1984. The Egyptian Temple: a lexicographical study. London.

Wilkinson, J.G. 1878. The Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians. London.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Writing – Image – Material: On Media and Communication in Ancient Egypt

By Dr Michela Luiselli

Communication is a form of interaction between two or more parties during which a message is conveyed through the use of media. According to modern media studies a crucial issue is the impact media and communication channels have onto a target audience. However, media and communication issues are not exclusively peculiar to our modern society. In fact, ancient societies display a highly developed communication system whose investigation leads to the following main questions: what was the connection between literacy and orality? How developed was the writing system? Could it encode the spoken language? What kind of audience had access to written culture? How could messages of a cultural, political and religious nature be conveyed in a low literate society? What was the role played by non-verbal and visual communication?

Ancient Egyptian culture is documented over more than 3000 years. Architecture, writing, figurative art, religious thoughts, literature, medicine, magic and daily life culture developed through this long period of time by continually changing its features and reflecting new historical and social realities. The increasing stratification of society is attested in Egypt from Pre- dynastic times (especially from Naqada II, i.e. 3500-3200 BC) onwards,1 witha concomitant increase in literacy2 and economic development.3 With the Early Dynastic Period (c. 3000-2686 BC) the developments mentioned above slowly led to the formation of a politically centralised and hierarchically organised state,4 characterised by an economically and culturally strong elite opposed to a broader stratus of common people.

Writing and representation in Egypt: an Overview

Messages are usually conveyed through the use of media. Among these we count script and representation, the material surface, colours as well as gestures, body postures, music, voice, etc. The first evidence of an Egyptian writing system dates back to the Naqada IIIA1 period (c. 3300 BC). It comes from the so-called tomb U-j in Abydos5 which probably belonged to a high ranking individual.6 The tomb revealed approx. 175 incised tags with geometrical and pictorial signs7 that have been interpreted as forerunners of the Egyptian hieroglyphic writing system.8 Several scripts were developed in Egypt through time, though two systems remained fundamental: the monumentaland highly pictographic hieroglyphs and the cursive hieratic hand writing, developed from the hieroglyphs.9 During the 7th and 6th century BC a new cursive writing system – the so-called demotic – was developed and used alongside hieroglyphs and hieratic, though mainly for everyday purposes. Eventually and especially during the Ptolemaic Period (332-30 BC) demotic was also used on monuments.10 The audience accessibility and the content reflected by these scripts are crucial issues. While the use of

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt hieroglyphs was always restricted to a relatively small group of specialists11 who were purposely trained, hieratic is likely to have been more wide spread, although school training was the requisite for being able to read and write.12

Alongside the invention and emergence of script in the early stages of the Egyptian culture, figurative art developed. It was used mostly for political and religious display purposes13 and in general to encode complex messages for which the writing was not sufficiently developed.14 The basic rules and patterns of Egyptian representation known among Egyptologists as the ‘canon of proportions’15 were already set in the Pre-dynastic times,16 but continuously developed new styles and features.17 Similarly to the hieroglyphic writing system, representation was highly symbolic, being an art that could be “read” and the pure aesthetic aspect was a later development. Although at first script and figurative art were in the hands of the political elite, with time specialists like craftsmen and scribes increased in number alongside the development of new settings for inscriptions and representations. Writing and representational art became two different media which worked together for communication and display purposes by addressing different audiences.18

As far as the evidence is concerned, the main purposes of both text and image were the display of high culture19 and the conveying of messages within funerary contexts, though not exclusively royal. Rectangular slabs coming from cemeteries in Giza (by modern Cairo) and dating to the 3rd Dynasty (2686-2613 BC) displayed the tomb owner sitting on an offering table. The surface was also covered with inscriptions listing offerings at first and becoming over time more complex until providing a detailed description of the deceased’s life.20 As a matter of fact, during the Old Kingdom (2686-2160 BC), text and image became the two indispensable parts of a whole. By the 5th Dynasty (2494-2345 BC) private tombs, structured on a lower and an upper section,21 displayed a vast surface covered by scenes integrated with inscriptions. Simultaneously, the first royal funerary text corpus known as the Pyramid Texts covered the walls of the funerary chamber of the 5th Dynasty’s kings, thus reflecting a dramatic development of the writing system unknown until then.

It is particularly from the so-called First Intermediate Period (2160-2055 BC) onwards that Egypt experienced a dramatic increase in the use of different media. Text and image were no longer connected with the sacred context only, but also developed in other settings. Though already used in earlier times for administration purposes, papyri and ostraca acted more and more as a support for literary texts, school exercises, private letters, and also sketches, magical and medical texts, religious hymns and prayers as well as funerary literature. Alongside these developments, libraries based in temples,22 ‘houses of life’,23 archives,24 schools,25 and also owners of private books increased, thereby keeping and transmitting Egypt’s cultural production.26

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In need of space: the surface of an Egyptian artefact

Figure 1: ECM414, shabti of the ‘Mistress of the House, Satamun’. © IAA University of Birmingham.

As a consequence of the development of script and representation, new media were chosen. The surface27 of statues, statuettes and stelae gained relevance for self-presentation purposes and personal religious practice and began being covered by inscriptions and representations. A significant example is also provided by shabti statuettes (fig. 1: ECM414 © IAA University of Birmingham). Shabtis were human-headed mummiform funerary statuettes attested from the Middle Kingdom onwards and meant for the deceased’s afterlife. While representing the deceased, they fulfilled his/her jobs in the beyond. They bear an inscription (the so-called shabti formula) all over the lower cylindrical surface that corresponds to the legs and feet. ECM414 is a stone shabti of the ‘mistress of the house’ Satamun, dating to the 19th Dynasty that organises the hieroglyphic inscription in registers. The rear bears the depiction of the working basket, while the collar around the neck and the working tools held in the hands cross over the chest on the front of the figure. Shabtis are attested in different materials (wood, stone, faience) according both to the deceased’s status and the trend of the period.

Communicating religion

The Egyptians believed in an interaction with transcendent spheres. Therefore, different media were used to address dead individuals as well as divinities. All of them were believed to intervene in human life and thus were approached to be appeased, given offerings, adored, etc. Similarly to communication between human partners, supernatural beings could be addressed through verbal or non-verbal communication. The latter in particular should be understood in a broader sense, with reference to the performance and quality of gestures and body postures,28 as well as through images, including artefacts. Communication could also be carried out orally,29 or via rituals.30

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In addition to the relevance given to the surface as a support for inscriptions and depictions, the setting of an artefact became crucial in terms of its impact on the audience. Especially from the Middle Kingdom onwards, private statues and stelae were set in places (temple or tomb courtyards) that were partly accessible to a broader public.31 Despite the overall low literacy rate, the general meaning of the scenes displayed on the stelae or of some type of statues32 would be decoded by a broader audience.33 This can also be assumed for small divine figures. ECM638 (fig. 2) is an 11.5 cm high figure of an Egyptian lion headed goddess that could be either Sekhmet34 or Mut.35 She is represented in standing position with the solar disc and uraeus (broken) on the head and dorsal pillar. The figurine is made of beeswax, a material that according to Egyptian belief had magical properties and was used in later times within magic rituals.36 Therefore, although the original setting cannot be identified, it was probably used for personal religious or magical purpose. Sekhmet’s violent and powerful nature was feared and rituals were performed to appease her. Though the decoding of divine iconography by a broader audience cannot be assumed, collective religious experiences like feasts and processions as well as individual daily religious practice37 also provided non-elite people with basic knowledge of religion.

Conclusion

Egyptian visual and written culture was based on a complex system of symbols. ECM1429 (fig. 3), a double sided wedjat eye amulet made of blue- green faience, for instance is an excellent example to show how objects with a highly religious-mythical symbolism were used in daily life also by non-elite people though they probably were not able to decode, and thus understand, their meaning. We cannot compare the effectiveness of our modern channels of communication with the Egyptians ones, but nonetheless we face a culture which developed a highly functional media apparatus which

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similarly to nowadays, constantly developed to ensure encoding, preservation, and communication.

Endnotes

1. It is initially reflected by funerary architecture (Bard 2000: 61), and further apparent in the decoration of Tomb no.100 at Hierakonpolis (Case & Payne, 1962), then more and more in the funerary deposition of ceramics alongside the increased use of precious materials, and by the production of luxurious artefacts especially from Naqada III (c. 3200-3000 BC) onwards as a result of a consolidated trade between the Nile delta and the northern Levant. Cf. Wengrow 2006: 140-142. 2. Here generally understood both in the form of written communication and competence in reading and writing (Baines 2007c: 147-148; 152-161; Baines & Eyre 1983, as well as Janssen 1992). The latter cannot be assumed for a non-royal audience in pre or early dynastic times. Concerning Egypt’s culture of written communication, cf. Morenz 1996. 3. Wengrow 2006: 147. 4. The so-called ceremonial knives, palettes and mace heads are the most striking evidence of the centralised early state (in terms of a single ruler) that more and more founded its identity and power via ritual actions. See Wengrow 2006: 176-187. 5. Dreyer 1998. 6. This has been suggested on the basis of the general structure of the tomb which its excavator G. Dreyer thought to have been the imitation of a palace (Dreyer 1998: 6) though no similar buildings have been found for that historical period (Wengrow 2006: 198). 7. See the evaluation in Dreyer 1998: 136-145. 8. Dreyer 1998: 138-145. According to Baines 2007a: 118-120 it is however highly unlikely that this actually can be taken as the very first Egyptian writing. It probably represents a stage of a longer development and the signs do not comprehensively express all aspects of language. Just as the later tags dating to dynasty 1(3000-2890 BC) which came from royal burials had a ceremonial intent, they were, nonetheless, based on an administrative system that is very difficult to reconstruct (Baines 2007a: 124-125). In general terms it is likely that in the beginning writing used in state administration was more reliant on the use of papyrus (Baines 2007a: 128-130). 9. Hieratic was used at first mainly in administration, but later also for private letters, as well as literary and religious texts on papyri or ostraca, but also on walls and rocks in the form of graffiti. 10. The connection between the writing system and the recording of spoken language is a crucial issue. However, for reasons of space, it won’t be considered in the present essay. 11. That is to say mostly priests and scribes, since hieroglyphs were used to encode texts of a religious nature on monuments. 12. On school training see McDowell 2000. 13. The early artefacts which used both writing and representation were the so-called ‘palettes’ and came from Pre-dynastic temples. Cf. Wengrow 2006: 176-187.

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14. Baines 2007b: 285-287. 15. Schäfer 1919. For critics, comments to this approach and further literature see Baines 2007d. 16. The artefact which demonstrates this statement is the so-called Narmer palette now kept in the Egyptian Museum Cairo (CG 14716). 17. This concerns also the development of Egyptian sculpture. This will not be taken into account here, because of the limited scope of the present essay. 18. The audience addressed in the early stages of Egyptian representation was, apart from the gods, still unidentified (Baines 2007b: 295). However, the fact that both systems addressed different audiences characterises the Egyptian communication and media system in general though aspects related to literacy and social hierarchy always played a crucial role. 19. Baines 2007a: 144. 20. Baines 1999. 21. While the funerary chamber was located in the lower subterranean section, the upper part was accessible by the deceased’s family to perform the funerary cult. 22. Cf. Burkard 1980. 23. See the discussion in Blumenthal 2011: 54 with reference to Zinn 2007. 24. Quirke 1996. 25. McDowell 2000. 26. Cf. the last overview on this topic by Blumenthal 2011. 27. Mostly stone, but it could also be wood. 28. Luiselli 2008. For a discussion of gestures as shown on amulets in the Eton College Myers Collection see the contribution by E. Millward in this project. 29. To reconstruct oral tradition in ancient societies is very challenging and is the object of targeted studies. It will not be taken into account for this essay. 30. Egyptian religion was based on cult and rituals, therefore Egyptologists face a high number of references to different rituals whose complexity can be reconstructed only in few cases. 31. For a discussion of personal religion at Egyptian temples please see G. Heffernan’s contribution to this project. 32. For instance the so-called intermediary statues were set in places accessible by common people and thus addressed to transmit personal issues to the deity worshiped in the temple. Cf. Galán 2003. 33. The reason lies in the fact that a community linked by a common cultural background also shared a common system of signs which can be decoded. For the application of this principle to ancient Egypt, see Luiselli 2008. 34. On the interpretation of ECM 638 as Sekhmet see Valentín et al 2005: 79 (nr. 56). Amulets dating to the same period as ECM 638 and representing Sekhmet could in fact support this interpretation. See for instance ECM 1716 (Luiselli 2010: 78, Nr. 66). 35. On the nature and iconography of the goddess Mut in relation to Sekhmet see Wilkinson 2003: 153-156. 36. Valentín et ai 2005: 79 (nr. 56). 37. Stevens 2006 and 2009.

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Bibliography

Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London.

Baines, J. & Eyre, C.J. 1983. ‘Four Notes on Literacy’, GM 61, 65-96.

Baines, J. 1999. ‘Forerunners of Narrative Biographies’, in A. Leahy & J. Tait (eds.), Studies on Ancient Egypt in Honour of H.S. Smith, London, 23-37.

Baines, J. 2007a. ‘Writing and society in early Egypt’, in J. Baines (ed.), Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 117-145.

Baines, J. 2007b. ‘Communication and Display: the Integration of Early Egyptian Art and Writing’, in J. Baines (ed.), Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 281-297.

Baines, J. 2007c. ‘Orality and Literacy’, in J. Baines (ed.), Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 146-178.

Baines, J. 2007d. ‘Theories and Universals of Representation: Heinrich Schäfer and Egyptian Art’, in J. Baines (ed.), Visual and Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 207-235.

Bard, K.A. 2000. The Emergence of the Egyptian State (c. 3200-2686 BC), in I. Shaw (ed.), The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, Oxford, 61-88.

Blumenthal, E. 2011. ‘Privater Buchbesitz im pharaonischen Ägypten’, in E. Blumenthal & W. Schmitz (eds.), Bibliotheken im Altertum, Wiesbaden, 51-86.

Burkard, G. 1980. ‘Bibliotheken im Alten Ägypten’, in Bibliothek - Forschung und Praxis 4/2, 79 - 115.

Valentín, F.M. et al (eds.) 2005. Azules egipcios. Pequeños tesoros del arte, Madrid. (exhibition catalogue).

Case, H. & Payne, J. C. 1962. ‘Tomb 100: the decorated tomb at Hierakonpolis’, in JEA 48, 5-18.

Dreyer, G., 1998. Umm el-Qaab I. Das prädynastische Königsgrab U-j und seine frühen Schriftzeugnisse, AV 86, Mainz.

Galán, J.M. 2003. ‘Amenhotep Son of Hapu as Intermediary between the People and God’, in Z. A. Hawass (ed.), Egyptology at the dawn of the twenty- first century. Proceedings of the Eighth International Congress of Egyptologists, Cairo, 221-229.

Janssen, J.J. 1992. ‘Literacy and Letters at Deir el-Medina’, in R.J. Demarée & A. Egberts (eds.), Village Voices, Leiden, 89-91.

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Luiselli, M.M. 2008. ‘Das Bild des Betens: Versuch einer bildtheoretischen Analyse der altägyptischen Anbetungsgestik’, in Imago Aegypti 2, 87-96.

Luiselli, M.M. 2010. ‘The Personal Apporach to the Divine in Ancient Egypt’, in E. Georganteli & M. Bommas (eds.), Sacred and Profane. Treasures of Ancient Egypt from the Myers Collection, Eton College and University of Birmingham, London, 63-86.

McDowell, A.G. 2000. ‘Teachers and Students at Deir el-Medina’, in R.J. Demarée (ed.), Deir el-Medina in the Third Millennium AD; A Tribute to Jac. J. Janssen, Egyptologische uitgaven 14, 217-233.

Morenz, L.D. 1996. Beiträge zur Schriftlichkeitskultur im Mittleren Reich und in der 2. Zwischenzeit, Ägypten und Altes Testament 29. Wiesbaden.

Pinch, G. 1994. Magic in Ancient Egypt. London.

Quirke, S. 1996. ‘Archive’, in A. Loprieno (ed.) 1996. Ancient Egyptian Literature. History & Forms, Probleme der Ägyptologie 10, 379-401.

Stevens, A. 2006. Private Religion at Amarna: the Material Evidence. Oxford. Stevens, A. 2009. ‘Domestic Religious Practices’, in J. Dielemann & W. Wendrich (eds.), UCLA Encyclopaedia of Egyptology, Los Angeles: http://escholarship.org/uc/item/7s07628w (last accessed March 2012).

Wengrow, D. 2006. The Archaeology of Early Egypt: Social Transformations in North-East Africa, 10,000 to 2650 BC. Cambridge.

Wilkinson, R.H. 2003. The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt. London.

Zinn, K. 2007. ‘Libraries and Archives: the Organization of Collective Wisdom in Ancient Egypt’, in M. Cannata (ed.), Current Research in Egyptology 2006: Proceedings of the Seventh Annual Symposium, Oxford, 169-176.

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The Lost Art of Egyptian Lithics

By Meagan Mangum

Introduction to Stone Tools (Lithics)

Lithic artefactshave been widely neglected in Egyptology until fairly recently.1 The reason for this state of affairs has its roots in nineteenth-century practices, but there are two modern culprits to be aware of. Firstly, we tend to think of stone tools as obsolete in the face of the development of metallic ‘Ages’. Although they seem definitive, broad stroke categories of study, such as the ‘Bronze Age’ (roughly 3300-1200 BC), are rather less well defined on closer inspection than they initially appear.2 Secondly, compared to decorative ornaments, papyri, or monumental structures, lithics are, to be blunt, much less sexy. Yet, without lithics there would be no tools to carve the first delicate ornaments, to harvest the reeds or pulp the paper, nor understanding of the attributes of various geologic materials for monumental sculpture and architecture. The body of specialized knowledge represented by lithic technologies (and the generational communication of that knowledge) is but one of the aspects of ancient Egyptian communication which deserves further study. During their active use, the objects conveyed social status within both local and national spheres. This communication was accomplished by material type and origin, technique of manufacture, and purpose of use (where that can be discerned). This essay will attempt to relate a few basic observations that can be made by an archaeologist such as myself, who, while not being an Egyptologist, was trained in Southern California where lithic technology essentially was the technology until Western contact. The main aim of this paper, however, is to spark interest in the minds of burgeoning scholars, so that the lithics in the Eton Myers collection may receive the attention they so richly deserve.

Mines

The majority of the lithics in the Eton Myers Collection are flint objects collected in the nineteenth century by Heywood Walter Seton-Karr (1859- 1938).3 Seton-Karr ‘discovered’ extensive flint mines in the eastern desert of Egypt, near the Wadi el-Sheik district.4 Several of the objects in the Eton Myers collection are identified as having been found across the Nile, in the Fayum.5

Flint is widely available throughout Egypt, but the Wadi el-Sheik mines contain nodes of a very high quality compared to aboveground sources. Findings from the shafts and galleries have been carbon dated to c. 3,300 – 2,800BC, making these some of the oldest known underground flint mines in the world.6 Archaeological evidence shows that the mines were a major source of flint from the Pre-dynastic Period through to the New Kingdom, but were most

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt heavily exploited during the Middle Kingdom (1980 – 1760 BC).7 Some sections of the galleries and tunnels have been cut using metal tools, showing a significant economic investment in these mines.8

Located at or near the mouth of the mines are heaps of debris, including limestone fragments from which the flint was extracted. Certain areas among the debris have been designated ‘workshops’ where the flint was initially processed, most likely by apprentices. Although the nodes of flint were not manufactured into finished products here, the piles of broken stone reveal a high level of organization.9 Each ‘workshop’ area was responsible for the manufacture of different stone blanks. In other words, the basic shaping done in each ‘workshop’ area shows that fresh nodes were selected for making specific tools (arrowheads, blades, knives, ritual implements, etc.) straight out of the mines, minimally shaped by type on site, and then taken to standard workshops in nearby settlements for finishing by master craftsmen.10

Social Groups and Communication

This basic information gives modern investigators a wealth of informative data. It reveals details about spatial and social organization, technological advances, continuity and change through time. But this exhibition is about communication in the context of the ancient world, so what does this data reveal in that context? To some degree it illuminates an intricate relationship between at least three distinct social groups: miners, flint-knapping specialists, and an elite owner/consumer group.11

When the subsistence strategy was primarily of a hunter gatherer type, widespread knowledge of flint-knapping techniques for the manufacture of hunting weapons can be assumed. And while sedentary farmers of the Neolithic were reliant on lithic technology, the food surpluses they generated lead to a new type of economic organization with a concomitant increase in specialist manufacturing indicated by a decided shift in the tool repertoire. This point represents the birth of the separate social groups mentioned above. The time and effort expended digging deep into the earth to harvest preferred materials, and years needed to learn the art of tool making and fine working of an easy to shatter material would be justified economically by the growing demands of the nascent Egyptian state.

These emerging social groups were integrated into the wider society and connected by common needs and cultural ideals. Miners retrieved high quality flint from beneath the earth. The nodules were divided by their suitability for a particularobject type and minimally shaped at the mouth of the mine. Next semi-worked items were delivered to masters craftsmen. Workshops then produced objects for a variety of uses and markets. The final shape was influenced by the consumer and society as a whole. Thus, the demand of the consumer was linked to idea of ‘what X looks like’ in that specific cultural time and place. Elite consumers acquired objects of beauty, display, ritual, etc., to assist in practices that ‘justify’ political power.12 Direct investment in the mining community is evidenced by the expenditure on metal tools, mentioned

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt earlier. During the dynastic period Pharaohs were the sole ‘owner’ of mines this may indicate an interesting link between the elites and craftsmen.13

In this socioeconomic system, the role played by each group evokes the notion of distance. Ethnographic data has revealed that kinship groups often monopolize economic niches through craft specialisation. In these cases clan and/or tribal affiliation determines vocation and the special rites/rituals attached to technical knowledge.14 Separation between these groups would be evident in daily routines, training experiences, rituals and social foci.

Objects

There are far more objects in the Eton Myers collection than are included in this essay, and each deserves to be examined. It has been exceptionally difficult to select which items to include. Rather than discuss each one, I have chosen a few which best illustrate ancient forms of communication and/or point towards lines of future research.

Communicating Specialized Knowledge

The best way to illustrate the skill of the flint-knappers and miners of ancient Egypt is to examine the objects and their method of manufacture. There are numerous flint-knapping demonstrations available online, but two that are especially informative can be found at here and here. The instructors are careful to explain the calculations that go into each strike, the uses/purposes of different tools and the importance of geological knowledge.

The Eton Myers collection contains an excellent ‘blade core’ (fig. 1).15 It was once a flint nodule, assessed and shaped as discussed above. Part of the process would include knocking off unsuitable angles, developing a ‘striking platform’, (which can be seen in the foreground of the image), and removing the ‘cortex’ or rough exterior of the node. At the workshop of the master craftsmen, long thin blades were removed in a circular pattern.16 These blades were quite sharp and could be used at this stage, but were often retouched, indicating that there was an ideal shape and ‘look’ to the finished product. ECM4700 (fig. 2) is a uni-facial blade, meaning that it was only worked on one side. The ruffling along the edge shows that it was sharpened by removing tiny pieces. I chose to show this piece due to the unusual curvature of the body. Both removal of this shape from the core and retouching required significant skill because the arc is awkward to handle and could have easily been snapped during the process.

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Projectile points, such as arrow or spear heads, are demonstrative of the way in which basic principles of stone working evolved into complex educational systems. Even though the initial shaping process is quite similar to that discussed above, the following stages are much more complex and take years of experience to master. Projectile points must be sturdy, aerodynamic, and possess the culturally approved shape for their purpose. The final product was the outcome of innumerable generations and rooted in tradition. In this respect every object was a cumulative work. In another respect, projectile points were revolutionary, the advanced frontiers of technology. They slowly explained the physics of the surrounding world as new shapes and sizes were developed for specialized game, warfare and display. Technological innovations, socio-cultural changes, religious meaning and even simple fashions, shaped the body of knowledge being endowed.17 Communication of these principles to the next generation was a vitally important, but far from static operation.

Beauty and Symbolism

The type of tools used by an individual will necessarily be associated with their status and social role. For example, a farmer’s needs differ from those of a member of the scribal elite. A foot soldier and a general may have similar equipment, but there will also be significant differences. An archer or infantryman does not need to be differentiated from his fellows in the way that a military leader does. Objects that are of rare, difficult to acquire and/or beautiful material and those that require the most expertise or longest amount of time to make will generally be the most ‘expensive’.18 Looking at the following items, we should bear these points in mind. Letting Lithics Speak

Lithics are largely discussed in terms of functionality, but they can also posses a certain beauty, as is exemplified by ECM1218 (fig. 3).19 The purpose of the long, delicate tangs of this type of arrowhead has been questioned, as they are likely to snap off after impact. This means that they are likely a single use item, but it also has implications for hunting and warfare. The shattered ends could embed in the flesh, doubling the damage to the target. But can more be read? Projectile points are all bi-facial objects, worked on both sides that must be

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt roughly symmetrical. This creates a special challenge for this shape, as the wing-like tangs must remain in the same plane and have the same length and width, as the deep central hollow is created. Examining the body, we can see that it is covered with minute ‘scars’ or grooves where stone has been carefully taken off by pressure flaking. The extreme length of the tangs in relation to body size represents a time-consuming choice, rather than a necessity. The shape may then reflect a culturally important or aesthetically pleasing shape. A final factor to consider is colour. Recent research suggests that black flint is uncommon in the archaeological record, and that ‘the colours of black and white, but also multicoloured and green, were important to the ancient Egyptians’.20 Thus, it may be possible to argue that functional benefits (impact fracture) were entwined with prestige factors (time and material quality) and perhaps aesthetic qualities (colour and shaping details).

The smallest object in the lithics collection is ECM1159 (fig. 4), which is 1cm wide by 2.8cm long (from point to tail).21 While the shape is a common form utilized from the First Dynasty through to the New Kingdom (c. 2900 – 1100BC),22 the material and minuscule size make it a spectacular piece. Flint can be translucent and luminous when polished, but this may be an instance where chalcedony or a uniquely coloured chert has been identified as flint.23 What this and several other pieces show is the variety of lustres/luminosity achieved by the Egyptian craftsmen.24 The ‘glow’ of a lithic tool added to its value,25 as can be seen in ancient textual references to flint as a prestige commodity.26 Possession of such a heavily modified, elegant projectile point should be viewed as an investment (of time, material, expertise) meant, in part, for personal display.27

Conclusion

Without further study the role played in Egyptian society by lithics, such as those found in the Eton Myers collection, cannot be fully explored. At this point there are few dates assigned to the objects, but it may be possible to assign more, given the recent growth of Egyptian lithic typologies. The provenance of the lithics in this collection are usually recorded as either Eastern Desert or Fayum, but a petrological analysis,28 could determine the original flint source, providing a greater understanding of organization and distribution patterns. One recent study suggests that there was an ideological orientation that associated all flint with the east, which itself was ‘associated with danger and difficulty, as well as solar creation, and is the birthplace of minerals’.29 It is my sincere hope that future researchers will either challenge or champion some portion of this essay, and thereby expand the realm of knowledge for Egyptian lithics. For, as we have seen, there are several lines

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of enquiry which could uncover ways in which Egyptians communicated to each other through stone tools.

Endnotes

1. Weisgerber 1987: 166. Egyptology is not alone in this respect. Nearly every sector of post-Neolithic Mediterranean archaeology can be accused of the same thing. Fortunately there has been a shift in the approach to archaeology in the last twenty years and now many previously neglected categories are helping to create a more inclusive view of the ancient world. Recent interest in ancient Egyptian settlements has been productive for the study of lithic technology. Well stratified sites have given us very good information about lithics. 2. Bard 1999: 311, relates that farming implements were among the last items to be produced in metal. Common iron tools do not begin to appear regularly until fate the 7th century BC and the sickle blade is the final tool to be translated into a metallic medium during the 4th century BC. 3. Bierbrier 1995. 4. Seton-Karr 1898: 90; Barket & Yohe 2011: 27, ‘these impressive quarries extend for several kilometres in the northern portion of the wadi’ and provide a good exemplar for flint processing in the Egyptian Middle Kingdom. 5. Several of the objects in the Eton Myers collection are identified as having been found in the Fayum. The archaeological location of these objects in the Fayum does not necessitate their origin or place of manufacture. An intensive study is needed to determine if these could be products of the Eastern dessert mines. 6. Aston, Harrell, & Shaw 2000: 5, 28. 7. Weisgerber 1987: 169; Bard 1999: 311; Hornung, Krauss, & Warburton 2006: 490-495. 8. Bard 1999: 311, Egypt is copper poor, and metals remained expensive and accessible only in the realm of the elite until well into the Iron Age. 9. Barket & Yohe 2011: 27; Rosen 1996: 129-31. 10. Bard 1999: 311; Pawlik 2005: 194-195, identifies the Pharaonic site Kom al-Ahmar (Red Hill) by Wadi el-Sheikh as a specialist village associated with the mines. 11. Because of the quality of the flint and effort gone to procure it, the flint from this type of mine would not be of common usage. For everyday usage, local flint could be procured from riverbeds and above ground sources. For these reasons, and others discussed below, we may assume the consumer to be of an elite status. 12. Graves-Brown 2010: 129, Flint can no longer be viewed as the material of poverty as recent research shows ‘the equation of flint with poverty may be questioned…as value is socially ascribed’. Access to raw materials and manufacture of tools may have been deliberately manipulated to artificially increase ‘effort expenditure and rarity’; Gero 1989: 94, 100–101 suggests the durability and ‘eternality’ of stone made flint ideal for encoding social messages. 13. Weisgerber 1987: 169, finds little evidence that miners of Wadi el-Sheikh were a slave population.

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14. Babel 1997: 168, ‘technical, magical and religious spheres were closely connected with one another, and were handed down within specific social groups’. 15. ECM1145 is listed as a ‘Discarded core of fawn coloured flint, with conchoidal fracture on one side which had made it useless for striking more blades’. It was donated by Seton-Karr, but the exact location of its discovery is unrecorded. 16. This is far from the only pattern that flakes can be removed in and some flint nodes are never reduced to a core, but are worked directly into larger objects. 17. Odell 1996: 225, ‘All lithics, but especially projectile points are shaped with great care and therefore the products of a multitude of manufacturing decisions and an impressive amount of human effort…[these decisions] can be directly translated into cultural information’. 18. For an excellent overview of the specifics involved with the transmission of lithic production knowledge and its implications for cognitive archaeology see Babel 1997. 19. ECM1218 is listed as ‘Hollow based and tanged arrow head of dark brown flint, carefully worked and with waxy polish’. Fagan 1996: 190; Hikade 2010: 7, this shape (the “Fayum point” )was common in the Fayum, from the Neolithic (5300 BC) up until the time of the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt (c. 3100 BC). 20. Graves-Brown 2010: 139-142. The multicoloured blade ECM4652, is an excellent example of an interesting interplay between colour patterns on a finished object. 21. ECM1159 is listed as ‘Slender leaf shaped arrow head of honey coloured flint, squared shoulders, broad tang, finely worked’. 22. Graves-Brown 2010: 556-7; Hornung, Krauss, & Warburton 2006: 490- 495. 23. Aston, Harrell, & Shaw 2000: 6-8, flint and chert are often used interchangeably by archaeologists as they can be difficult to distinguish. Generally chert is lighter and more varied in colour. 24. ECM1138, is a honey coloured flint with little reflectivity, but more lustrous than ECM4645. Projectile points ECM1152, ECM1179, ECM1218 and ‘fish shaped blade’ ECM4652 illustrate a variety of reflective properties. 25. Graves-Brown 2010: 142- 143, suggests that ‘luminosity is related [to] the notion of the multicoloured, as both may be considered dazzling’ and that polishing of lithics was especially prevalent in the Pre- and Early Dynastic periods. This theoretically links objects such as ECM4652 and ECM1159. 26. Aston, Harrell, & Shaw 2000: 29. 27. Gero: 1989, 93–94; Graves-Brown 2010: 152-156. 28. Weisgerber 1987: 176, suggests that the lithics of each area are distinctive and easily differentiated from other regions. Considering the advancement of petrological fingerprinting and increasing knowledge of Egyptian lithics since the 1980s it is entirely feasible that such a study could be very successful. 29. Graves-Brown 2010: 148.

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Egypt and its Relationship to the Flint Mines of the Wadi al-Sheikh’, Stone Age - Mining Age – Der Anschnitt, Beiheft 19, 193- 209.

Rosen, S. A. 1996. 'The Decline and Fall of Flint', in G. H. Odell (ed), Stone Tools: Theoretical Insights into Human Prehistory, 129-155. New York, NY.

Seton-Karr, H. W., 1898. ‘Discovery of the Lost Flint Mines of Egypt’, The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 27, 90-92.

Seton-Karr, H. W. 1906. Flint Implements of the Fayum, Egypt. Washington. Weisgerber, W. 1987. ‘The Ancient Flint Mines at Wadi el-Sheikh (Egypt)’, in G. de Sieveking and M. H. Newcomer (eds). The Human Uses of Flint and Chert: Flint Symposium, Brighton, 1983. Cambridge

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

'Actions speak louder than words': Gestures of Communication in Ancient Egypt

By Emily Millward

‘Egyptian artists can be seen to have incorporated gestures of symbolism into their compositions in a conscious manner from very early times’ 1

It has been said that an action tells a thousand words - this is certainly the case for the many gestures present in ancient Egyptian artwork. It is clear that gestures can be substituted for words and just as ‘words may express anything’ however subtle or intense, gestures can do the same.2 Therefore, in terms of communication, a plethora of feelings, beliefs and ideas can be conveyed in a gesture. Several objects from a selection of the Eton Myers Collection currently on loan to the University of Birmingham illustrate the communicative aspect of gestures and show the ways in which the ancient Egyptians conveyed emotions and ideologies via this form of non-verbal interaction. As such, these objects are useful for students and researchers to study and interpret as it encourages them not to rely on textual or evidential detail, but to delve deeper to ‘think like an Egyptian’ and understand what these gestures conveyed in antiquity. The objects studied here consist of a range of amulets which were known throughout ancient Egypt for their ‘magical’ properties.3 Each of these amulets display one or more actions which help us to better understand the ways in which the ancient Egyptians transferred emotions, and beliefs of divine intervention and protection.

Gestures Communicating Emotion

Emotion is a difficult form of communication to interpret, especially when the sources available to analyse are of an artistic nature. However, some conclusions can be reached with one particular emotion: mourning. The common gestures of mourning have previously been established by many scholars,4 most notably by Werbrouck (1938). These actions include the baring of the chest and the raising of the hands to the head, which are seen in contexts including tomb wall scenes,5 vignettes from the Book of the Dead,6 vessels,7 and amulets. One such amulet from the Eton Myers Collection displays these gestures and provides an insight into how this particular emotion was communicated amongst the ancient Egyptian people.

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‘Mourning Amulets’

ECM148, a faience amulet dating approximately to the Late Period, shows the goddess Isis - instantly recognisable from the hieroglyphic ‘throne’ on her head - bending on one knee with one hand to her head (fig. 1). Two small perforations on the goddess’ head and ankle show how the amulet would have been attached. The reverse of the amulet displays distinctive linen imprints, a lasting impression that alludes to the process of making faience.8 The raising of one (or more commonly two) hands is seen consistently throughout Egyptian artwork as a gesture of mourning. Several other amulets are comparable to ECM148, particularly UC52570 from the Petrie Museum and 11468 and 60859 from the British Museum. In each case a goddess - either Isis or Nephthys as it is likely that one amulet was part of a pair9 - bends to the ground on one knee with one of her hands placed to her head. Although this gesture may be unfamiliar to our Twenty- first Century eyes, to the ancient Egyptians it sent a clear message that the two goddesses, who were the mourners par-excellence, were grieving for Osiris, the mythical antecedent for all deceased Egyptians. For the emotion to be conveyed via mourning amulets the ancient Egyptians must have relied on the gestures for communication, as the facial expressions of the goddesses’ are very unclear. This is not due to damage over time, but rather the purposeful action of the artist to ensure that the gesture would be the communicator in this case.10

The amulets from the Eton Myers Collection selected in this study represent a range of particular objects that whether worn during life or made specifically to be placed on an embalmed individual in death,11 communicated ideologies of divine intervention and protection. Some scholars have placed amulets into specific groups,12 whilst others state that the arrangement of amulets into such groups is not something the ancient Egyptians had any notion of.13 What can be grouped together however, are the types of ideas and feelings particular gestures conveyed between the ancient Egyptian people.

Gestures Communicating Divine Intervention and Protection

One of the more light-hearted pieces of the Eton Myers collection at the University of Birmingham is ECM117, a faience amulet depicting the head of Bes, showing the dwarf sticking out his tongue, a gesture unusual for most deities to adopt (fig. 2). Bes was a deity known for being ‘playfully aggressive’14 and he did indeed have a more menacing side. From the Third Intermediate Period (the approximate date for ECM117) onwards amulets, such as British Museum 61314, show Bes with his tongue poking out and also

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with sharp teeth bared in a menacing grimace.15 His dwarfish nature is combined with these gestures to create a more threatening persona to ward away any evils from the wearer.16

Two other amulets from the collection also show actions of particular interest. ECM767 and ECM2124 depict the serpent deity, Nehebkau. Although ECM767 shows Nehebkau with a human body and ECM2124 depicts him entirely as a serpent, the gestures on each amulet are exactly the same (fig. 3). In each case Nehebkau reaches his hands towards his mouth, a gesture also seen on similar amulets, such as 24761 from the British Museum. Although Nehebkau’s mythology is not as well known today as his divine counterparts’, the ancient Egyptians would certainly have been aware of his divine powers.17 It could be that Nehebkau’s gesture shows him raising some kind of fruit to his mouth, a detail which is slightly clearer from a similar amulet, 208 in the Jacques-Édouard Berger Collection.18 This interpretation is certainly possible due to Nehebkau’s links with prosperity and the fact that in some mythological traditions his mother is said to be Renenutet, the goddess of the harvest,19 with whom images of Nehebkau are sometimes confused.20 In this sense, Nehebkau’s gesture could have communicated his mythological background whilst the amulet itself conveyed the fruitful and strengthening aspect of this deity.21

One item that more distinctly shows the bringing of fruit to the mouth is ECM758, another faience amulet this time in the form of a monkey (fig.). Shown sitting on the ground with two hands towards his face, the amulet has a small loop on the back of the monkey’s head for attachment. A similar amulet, 71029 in the British Museum, depicts the same gesture although in

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt this case the monkey is shown standing and also has its young between its legs. It seems likely that the action of raising fruit to the mouth communicated powers of fecundity22 and would have acted as a fertility aid for the wearer of the amulet, thus providing divine intervention.23

ECM2067 is a small faience amulet depicting the god Shu, shown kneeling to the ground with both arms raised either side of a solar disk which sits on top of his head (fig. 5). Similar amulets to ECM2067, such as ECM1538, also show the god in the same stance, for example 60439 in the British Museum and 636 and 339 in the Jacques-Édouard Berger Collection.24 As the mythological god of air, it was Shu’s job to separate his two children, Geb, god of the earth, and Nut, goddess of the sky.25 Therefore, the gesture of raising his arms, which is markedly different from the way in which Isis as a mourner adopts a similar action,26 could communicate Shu’s mythological origins and in doing so the divine power of Shu is conveyed. As a result Egyptians would wear amulets like this knowing that the powerful god who was mythologically holding up the heavens, was protecting them. Therefore it is unlikely that Shu’s gesture is directly related to protection itself, however another object from the collection clearly displays an action that would have communicated this to the ancient Egyptians.

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ECM1478 is an amuletic pectoral made of faience, separated into three pieces which, when placed side-by-side, show a goddess kneeling to the ground with her wings outstretched (fig. 6). The amulet is listed as representing Isis, who was often depicted with the cow horns and solar disk during the later periods of ancient Egyptian history. The body of the goddess has fifteen piercings and two suspension loops on the reverse, whilst there are twelve and thirteen piercings on her wings. The goddess’ outstretched wings communicate protection offered by the image of the goddess to the wearer of the amulet and can also be seen on other amuletic examples, such as UC52591 and UC52592 from the Petrie Museum at University College London. This particular gesture of protection does not only appear to have been communicated in an amuletic form, but can be seen in many other instances. For example on coffin decoration27 and temple carvings, such as the image on the wall of the inner temple of Isis’ sanctuary at Philae which depicts the goddess actually wrapping her wings around the god Osiris (fig. 7). This suggests that actions of communication were not reserved for one medium only, but rather that these gestures and their communicative meaning were common to other forms of ancient Egyptian art.

Gestures Communicating Ideologies

Ancient Egyptian culture consisted of many beliefs and ideas that had been passed down through the generations over hundreds of years. Certain texts and objects of material culture communicated these aspects between the Egyptian people. Two particular amulets from the Eton Myers Collection at the University of Birmingham provide an idea of how actions were used to convey these beliefs.

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Isis Lactans

ECM785 and ECM787 are both pale green faience amulets showing the goddess Isis in one of the most enduring images of ancient Egyptian culture; suckling her infant son Horus (fig. 8). Shown seated on a block throne, Isis supports Horus on her lap as she nurses him. This image does not only appear in an amuletic form, but many statuettes also display it, such as X722 housed in the Institute of Archaeology and Antiquity Museum at the University of Birmingham and UC42553 in the Petrie Museum.28 Isis’ action communicates the important mythological links between herself and the king, as the simple action of feeding her infant son relates to the goddess’ role of protector and aide to the king. The story of ‘Horus and Seth’,29 which details the conflict between the two deities upon the death of Osiris, consistently represents Isis as a protector and supporter to the rightful king, her son Horus. The text also refers to Isis as ‘the divine mother’30 which is a direct reference to her pivotal role as the mother of Horus and therefore of each king of Egypt who is always associated with Horus, hence, the ‘Horus Name’ and the ‘Golden Horus Name’ as part of the royal titulary.31 This seemingly simple gesture is one of the more complex discussed here and it communicates not only an emotion or direct action of protection, but it links with ideologies innate to the Egyptian people. They may have felt the need to communicate this belief through gesticular art forms not only to each other, but to ensure that the gods, who were believed to be ever watchful, were aware of the Egyptian’s knowledge of their divine power and presence within everyday life. The study of these objects from the Eton Myers Collection at the University of Birmingham has shown that even the smallest of details can provide an insight into how the ancient Egyptians communicated with each other. The non-verbal interaction of gestures represent a range of feelings, cultural ideas and beliefs that cannot always be as easily gleaned from textual sources. Therefore, this selection of objects is highly valuable for researchers to gain a sense of how the Egyptians communicated their human emotions and cultural ideologies.

Endnotes

1. Wilkinson 1994:192. 2. Feyereisen and Lannoy 1991:49.

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3. Andrews 1994:6 states that amulets served as a ‘talisman or charm’ and was believed to ‘endow the wearer by magical means with certain powers or capabilities’. 4. For brief details about the gestures of mourning in ancient Egypt see McDermott 2006:113-114; Meskell 2002:189-193; Szpakowska 2008:184; Taylor 2001:188-189, Wilkinson 1994:199. 5. Particularly TT55, the tomb of Neferhotep, see Davies 1973:pl.IV-V, and TT181, the tomb of Nebamun and Ipuky, see Davies 1925:pl.XXII-XXV. 6. See British Museum 9901, fragments of the Book of the Dead of Hunefer. 7. See Petrie Museum UC16126. 8. During manufacture 'trays served for drying faience objects after they had been removed from their ceramic moulds. Numerous faience objects, notably tiles and inlays bear the impression of textiles on their flat surface, and it may be that this was the result of being placed in such trays', see Friedman 1998:254. 9. Andrews 1994:4. Isis and Nephthys are often referred to as ‘wailing’ or ‘mourning’ women in ancient Egyptian texts, particularly in the ‘Songs of Isis and Nephthys’ and in ‘The Lamentations’, see Bleeker 1958:1-17 and Lichtheim 1980:116-121. 10. Feyereisen and Lannoy 1991:49 state that it is gestures that tell us about how intense an emotion is, whilst facial expression merely communicate the nature of the gesture. It may be that the Egyptian not only used gestures to communicate an emotion, but that they also made some attempt to convey how intense this emotion was. 11. Andrews 1994:6-7 explains the use of different amulets. However, it is plausible that if an amulet was worn by an individual in life, it could have then been placed on their body after death. 12. Andrews 1995:12-13 cites Petrie 1972:4-5 in doing so. 13. Germond 2005:24. 14. Hart 1985:58. 15. Andrews 1994:39-40. 16. See contribution by C. Graves in this project for more information about Bes and his origins. 17. In some mythological traditions Nehebkau was known as a ‘guide to the soul’ Petrie 1972:49. 18. Germond 2005:70-71. 19. Hart 1986:131. 20. Germond 2005:71 notes that 208 in the Jacques-Édouard Berger Collection is entered, presumably in the collections catalogue, ‘as Renenutet, goddess of harvests’. 21. Hart 1986:131. 22. It is common knowledge that a cornucopia of food, particularly fruit, is a symbol of abundance, prosperity, and the fertility of nature. 23. Andrews 1994:66-67 suggests that the fecundity associated with baboons often lead to images of them been used as ‘sexual aids’. 24. Germond 2005:113-115. 25. Hart 1986:200-201. 26. Wilkinson 1994:195-196 explains how some gestures are often very similar, or even exactly the same, but to the ancient Egyptians their meanings were very different.

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27. See the decoration on the X2000 from University of Birmingham Archaeology Collection, a coffin lid dated to approximately 550BCE which shows Isis adopting the same gesture as displayed on ECM1478. 28. See also Petrie 1972: pl.LIII. 29. Translated by Lichtheim 1976:214-223. 30. Lichtheim 1976:216. 31. Gardiner 1927:72-73.

Bibliography

Andrews, C. 1994. Amulets of Ancient Egypt. London.

Bleeker, C.J. 1958. ‘Isis and Nephthys as Wailing Women’, Numen 5. 1-17.

Feyereisen, P. and De Lannoy, J, D. 1991. Gestures and Speech: Psychological Investigations. Cambridge.

Friedman, F. D. 1998. Gifts of the Nile: Ancient Egyptian Faience. Providence. Gardiner, A. 1957. Egyptian Grammar. Oxford.

Germond, P. 2005. The Symbolic World of Egyptian Amulets from the Jacques-Édouard Berger Collection. Milan.

Hart, G. 1986. A Dictionary of Egyptian Gods and Goddesses. London.

Kaczmarczyk, A. 1983. Ancient Egyptian Faience. Warminster.

Lichtheim, M. 1976. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume II the New Kingdom. London.

Lichtheim, M. 1980. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume III the Late Period. London.

McDermott, B. 2006. Death in Ancient Egypt. London.

Meskell, L. 2002. Private Life in New Kingdom Egypt. Oxford.

Meyer, M. W. 1987. The Ancient Mysteries: a Sourcebook of Sacred Texts. New York.

Petrie, W.M. 1972. Amulets. Warminster.

Szpakowska, K. 2008. Daily Life in Ancient Egypt. Oxford.

Taylor, J.H. 2001. Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt. London.

Thomas, S. 1999. ‘A Saite Figure of Isis in the Petrie Museum’, JEA 85, 232- 235.

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Werbrouck. 1938. Les Pleureuses dans l’Egypte ancienne. Bruxelles.

Wilkinson, R.H. 1994. Symbol & Magic in Egyptian Art. London.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

The Dead and the Living Interacting Through Text: An Inscribed Funerary Cone

By Valentina Pasquali

Within the entire span of the history of research in Egyptology, very few words have been spared for funerary cones. Crude, unpolished, often uncoloured and barely inscribed, funerary cones have been the object of very little study. For the purposes of this research, however, the characteristic presence of an inscription and the suggested placement of this type of object in front of tombs convey an attempt to communicate; owing to that, the funerary cone listed as ECM6090 in the Eton College Joseph William Myers Collection, which has been reproduced below, constitutes a perfect example.

The standard size for a funerary cone is about 10-15 cm long and 7-8 cm in diameter;1 with its 21 cm of length and 9 cm of diameter, ECM6090 is slightly above the average, clay-made, cone-shaped, with inscribed hieroglyphs applied in raised relief on the front and neatly divided into four rows. In contrast to examples where the impressions were quite carelessly applied, the inscription on ECM6090 is perfectly centred and easy to read. The cone is also still intact; the majority of them had their tails broken or sawed off, to be more easily transported.2

Although funerary cones are quite poorly understood, the regular presence of an inscription suggests a communicative purpose. The disposition of the hieroglyphs and the type of text represented can show important variations; from a simple name of the deceased, accompanied by his titles, to complicated inscriptions surmounted by representations of solar barges and displaying praise to the dead or prayers to the gods.3

They were likely to have been part of the decoration of non-royal tombs, inserted in rows into the plaster above the tomb entrance. The inscribed, flat surface would have been pointed outwards, forming a frieze.4

Funerary cones were generally made of solid clay; although hollow cones have also been found. Finger and hand marks are clearly distinguishable on their rough surfaces, and these can clearly be seen on ECM6090. The cones were probably held on one end while the matrix was applied to the other, and 80

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt fired afterwards. Hieroglyphs could be in sunken or raised relief, and when mistakes occurred a second stamp could cover the first one, creating an overlap difficult to read.5

The number of cones used in funerary architecture was incredibly high; there were usually about three hundred of them for each tomb, and it has been suggested that the higher the number, the greater the possibility that the deceased’s name was read and spoken, therefore ensuring him eternal life.6 His achievements, and thus his place within the Egyptian society, usually preceded his name.

The shapes of funerary cones might also have been connected with their use within funerary architecture. Their employment in structures such as pyramids and tomb enclosures’ walls could have raised the need for cylindrical, bell- shaped, brick-like and wedge-shaped types, as well as the eponymous cone- shaped variety.7 Although the majority of the surviving cones display the natural colour of fired clay, some of them retain traces of red, white, blue, black, ochre and yellow paint.8 The existence of one or more funerary cones belonging to the same owner implies the presence, somewhere, of a tomb;9 therefore, studies have been made to match cones to extant burials.10

The usage of funerary cones reached its peak during the Eighteenth Dynasty, as a particularly significant feature of Theban funerary architecture. Nevertheless, the first cones, large and uninscribed, can be dated back to the Eleventh Dynasty,11 and their use continued until the Twenty-sixth Dynasty.12 Although funerary cones were usually restricted to the Theban area, a small number have been found at sites including Reizeiqat, Armant, Naqada and Abydos; very few examples have also been discovered as far as Nubia.13

Translation of ECM6090

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Osiris, the wcb-priest(1) who is at the front of Amun Deputy in the house of Amun Khaut, justified(2) His beloved sister(3) Chantress of Amun The lady of the house Tamut(4)

(1). Wcb: as a verb, it means to be pure. Placed at the beginning of this sentence, it works as its subject, in the form of a participle acting as a noun: ‘the one who is pure’, a priestly title.14

(2). Khaut is the personal name of the deceased; this is why the following hieroglyph, partly eroded on the right end of the funerary cone, was restored as the determinative of a seated man of rank holding a flagellum.15 The name of Khaut is also followed by m3c-ḫrw, ‘true of voice’ or justified, an epithet given to the deceased as he passed the Judgment of the Dead.16

(3). Mr(.t).f was taken here as a perfective passive participle, where the feminine .t, necessary to agree with sn.t, had been omitted.17

(4). The almost illegible final hieroglyph was restored as the determinative of the seated woman, placed after the name of the lady of the house.18 The spelling of her name as it can be seen on the cone, however, might have been a contracted version, probably due to the restricted surface available; the same sparing use of space can be detected in the missing determinatives after the god’s name and Tamut’s titles. Possible alternatives might have been Tadimut (T3-di-Mw.t) or Tanetmut (T3-n.t-Mw.t).

The Wcb-priest and the Chantress of Amun

Despite its brevity, the text just examined nicely fulfils its communicative purpose, and is rich in information. The nature of this succinct inscription is apposite to the limited surface available which does not allow for any long narrative, but is, nevertheless, sufficient to report what was evidently considered essential: the names of the people involved and their titles.

Khaut, the protagonist of this short text, is identified as an osiris and as justified, further placing this inscription in a funerary context. Osiris and the concept of justification/vindication were strongly linked, seeing as the deceased aspired to have both his physical integrity and his social status restored as his godlike counterpart.19 As Horus had to prove himself in front of a tribunal in order to vindicate Osiris’ throne, the deceased had to declare himself worthy in order to become part of Osiris’ following. After death and the perils that he would have had to avoid in order to reach the Judgment Hall, his heart would have been weighed, and would have sunk further with each lie he

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt had spoken. If the heart had been heavier than Maat, symbolized by a feather, it would have been devoured by a monster. If his heart was light, then the deceased would have been ‘justified’; he would have acquired the name of Osiris.20 Having being declared justified, therefore, Khaut is placed as victorious after the Judgment, and a member of Osiris’ following.

Khaut is also identified as a wcb-priest, which was the most common priestly title amongst temple personnel. It was also the lower level in the priestly hierarchy: the ‘pure ones’ were involved in the secondary aspects of the cult, such as carrying the sacred barge;21 an activity to which was probably linked his title of ‘the one who is in front of Amun’.

This title could also be combined with other professions,22 and Khaut presents a good example of that: in addition of being a wcb-priest, he is also deputy in the house of Amun. This title expressed subordination to another official, but whose name is typically not provided;23 the title was also usually connected with the administration of the temple estate.24

The second person mentioned on ECM6090 is a woman, Tamut. Her position in Khaut’s household is ambiguous; although the inscription defines her as ‘his beloved sister’, from the mid-Eighteenth Dynasty onwards sn.t could be employed on monuments to replace ḥm.t, ‘wife’.25 This particular meaning for the word sn.t would find additional support in the use of the title nb.t pr, ‘lady of the house’, which seems to have been related to married women during the New Kingdom.26 The exact extent of duties, responsibilities and authority that would accompany this particular title is difficult to define; male figures generally occupy a preeminent position in family depictions, and in written text the brief title was probably deemed as sufficient. However, it is likely that the lady of the house was involved in core activities within the household, such as baking, brewing and cooking, and possibly also weaving, grain storage, animal husbandry and craft production.27

The second title given to Tamut was šmcy.t n(.t) Imn, ‘chantress of Amun’. The presence of women in temple rituals is attested as early as the Old Kingdom,28 and the use of this particular title from the Middle Kingdom.29 Deriving from šmc, which means ‘to sing’ or ‘to clap hands’, the bearers of this title are often shown in the act of singing or clapping their hands;30 they are also usually women, although male šmc are also attested.31 Therefore, the most likely context where šmcy.wt could have been found was in the performance of music during public worship and processions, although they could have also been involved in temple and funerary rituals.32

The use of this title for female priestesses increased dramatically through the New Kingdom and the Third Intermediate Period, becoming as common as ‘lady of the house’; this adjustment was probably due to the relegation of women to a secondary role within the temple administration, such as the position of chantress, and the formation of a full-time male priesthood.33 Moreover, in the New Kingdom the accessibility to this title was amplified; not only noble women had šmcy.t to accompany their names, but also wives of simple wcb-priests.34

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Finally, the choice of the god to serve was largely dependent on the location; therefore, women living at Thebes were almost exclusively involved with the cult of Amun.35

Other Contexts for Khaut

Despite its uniqueness within the Eton Myers Collection, ECM6090 is not the only one of its kind in the world.

An identical cone was mentioned as far back as 1887 by W. M. F. Petrie,36 but unfortunately the famous archaeologist was less than precise when explaining how and where he obtained this object; he merely commented that he ‘steadily collected them [funerary cones] from the Arabs’.37 Eight cones belonging to the same type were reported by H. M. Stewart as part of the Petrie Collection, although only one of them was complete.38

This type was also listed by G. Daressy in his Recueil des cônes funéraires,39 and it was catalogued as no. 465 by N. De Garis Davies and M. F. L. Macadam in their Corpus of Inscribed Egyptian Funerary Cones.40 No. 1004 of the collection of the Institute d’égyptologie de l’Université de Strasbourg appears to be another example of this series, bearing the same inscription and Khaut’s name as its owner.41

Moreover, Khaut might be the owner of a white limestone pyramidion dated back to the Eighteenth Dynasty, no. 707 in the British Museum collection; his name and his title (idnw m pr Imn) are both present.42 His tomb, however, is yet to be identified.

Conclusions

Despite the brevity of its inscription and its crude appearance, it is now possible to infer that ECM6090 was probably part of the decoration of a Theban tomb; that it belonged to a man called Khaut, wcb-priest and deputy at Karnak, who married a woman called Tamut, chantress at the same temple. Different authors translated a different version of her name; Petrie chose Tamut,43 while Daressy and Davies-Macadam preferred Tanetmut.44

The geographical location can be pinpointed through the relatively exclusive use of funerary cones in the Theban area, and the employment of both Khaut and Tamut at the service of Amun, whose main temple was located at Karnak. In addition to that, this funerary cone was used to convey a precise message, branding the entrance of Khaut’s tomb and giving precise information about its owner. Inserted above the opening, one or more rows of identical cones bearing Khaut’s name would have allowed visitors to identify who was buried within the tomb, his closest associations and their positions throughout life. Through a brief text and what was clearly considered a cheap object, Khaut declared his name and his role to whoever was able to read his inscription, and after more than three thousand years he has made himself known again.

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Endnotes 1. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 3. 2. A practice quite widespread at the beginning of the twentieth century. See Petrie 1887: 23. 3. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 8, 16. 4. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 4. 5. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 1-2. 6. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 16. 7. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 2, 4-5. 8. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 3. 9. Manniche 2001: 565. 10. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 12-4. 11. Winlock 1928: 3-58. 12. Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 16. 13. Manniche 2001: 566-7; Dibley & Lipkin 2009: 6-7. 14. Gardiner 1957: 270. 15. Gardiner 1957: 447. 16. Gardiner 1957: 50-1. 17. Gardiner 1957: 276-9. 18. Gardiner 1957: 448. 19. Smith 2008: 2. 20. Assmann 2005: 74-5. 21. Sauneron 2000: 70. 22. Haring 1997: 223. 23. Haring 1997: 236. 24. Haring 1997: 372-3. 25. Robins 1993: 61-2. 26. Roehrig 1996: 13. 27. Robins 1993: 99-101. 28. Galvin 1984: 42-9. 29. Onstine 2005: 25. 30. Onstine 2005: 4-5. 31. Onstine 2005: 78-80. 32. Onstine 2005: 11-9. 33. Robins 1993: 145-8. 34. Onstine 2005: 31. 35. Onstine 2005: 34-7. 36. Petrie 1887: plate XXIII, n. 89. 37. Petrie 1887: 23. 38. Stewart 1986: 47. 39. Daressy 1893. 40. Davies & Macadam 1957. 41. Heyler 1959: 91, plate XIV. 42. British Museum 1909: 155; Porter & Moss 1964: 836. 43. Petrie 1887: 25. 44. Daressy 1893; Davies & Macadam 1957.

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Bibliography

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Daressy, G. 1893. Recueil des cônes funéraires, Paris.

Davies, N. de Garis & Macadam, M. F. L. 1957. A Corpus of Inscribed Funerary Cones, Part 1, Oxford.

Dibley, G. & Lipkin, B. 2009. A Compendium of Egyptian Funerary Cones, London.

Eichler, S. S. 2000. Die Verwaltung des „Hauses des Amun“ in der 18. Dynastie, Hamburg.

Galvin, M. 1984. ‘The Hereditary Status of the Titles of the Cult of Hathor’, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 70, 42-49.

Gardiner, A. 1957. Egyptian Grammar – Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs, Oxford.

Haring, B. J. J. 1997. Divine Household – Administrative and Economic Aspects of the New Kingdom Royal Memorial Temples in Western Thebes, Leiden.

Heyler, A. 1959. ‘Note sur les «Cônes Funéraires» a Propos du Récent Corpus de Davies-Macadam’, Kêmi 15, 80-93.

Manniche, L. 2001. ‘Funerary Cones’, in B. Redford (ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, vol. 1, Oxford, 565-567.

Onstine, S. L. 2005. The Role of the Chantress (Šmcy.t) in Ancient Egypt, Oxford.

Petrie, W. M. F. 1887. A Season in Egypt, London.

Porter, B. and Moss, R. L. B. 1964. Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts, Reliefs, and Paintings, vol. 1, part II, Oxford.

Roehrig, C. H. 1996. ‘Women’s Work: Some Occupation of Non-royal Women as Depicted in Ancient Egyptian Art’, in A. K. Capel and G. E. Markoe (eds.), Mistress of the House, Mistress of Heaven, New York, 13-24.

Robins, G. 1993. Women in Ancient Egypt, London.

Sauneron, S. 2000. The Priests of Ancient Egypt, Ithaca.

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Schneider, H. D. 1977. An Introduction to the History of Ancient Egyptian Funerary Statuettes with a Catalogue of the Collection of Shabtis in the National Museum of Antiquities at Leiden, vol. 2, Leiden.

Smith, M. 2008. ‘Osiris and the Deceased’, UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, http://www.escholarship.org/uc/item/29r70244.

Stewart, H. M. 1986. Mummy Cases and Inscribed Funerary Cones in the Petrie Collection, Wiltshire and Illinois.

Winlock, H. E. 1928. ‘The Egyptian Expedition 1925-1927: The Museum’s Excavations at Thebes’, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 23, 3-58.

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

Communication Through Music in Ancient Egyptian Religion

By Eleanor Simmance

Music is a particularly effective medium through which to communicate, as almost anyone can appreciate it and it comes in many forms. The study of ancient Egyptian music reveals that it is filled with elements of communication: for instance, imported types of instrument suggesting trade of ideas as well as objects (fig.1), and the art known as ‘chironomy’, whereby a series of hand-gestures would direct the musicians, akin to modern conducting.1 This essay shall focus on the use of music within religion. The two main aspects of communication in this context are seen between human and god, and between god and human. The two objects from the Eton Myers Collection, here studied, each serve as an illustration of one of these potential interactions. First of all, ECM282 is a faience sistrum, albeit a fragment (fig.2). Whilst it bears an image of a goddess, undoubtedly Hathor, this instrument represents communication from the human world to the divine. The second object, ECM1021, is a small amulet in the shape of Bes (fig.3). The dwarf-god holds and beats a tambourine at his left side and hence represents the performance of music by a god in order to communicate with, and benefit, humans.

The roles of the gods

There are a number of gods that have links to music. The most obvious would be Hathor and Bes, and yet the personification of music was a goddess named Merit.2 Ihy, one of the sons of Hathor, was also associated with music and is sometimes seen playing a sistrum, appropriate due to his mother’s connection to that instrument.3 There is also evidence from Greek and Roman commentators that suggest both Thoth and Osiris also had connections to music.4

The evidence for communication from god to human is far less common than for human to god; several gods have definite connections with music but very rarely are they seen performing themselves. We are told by Diodorus Siculus that Thoth invented the lyre, and yet Thoth is usually seen fulfilling his role as the god of writing and not playing an instrument. Here, of course, we may be dealing with a problem of cross-cultural labelling: a Greek writer using his own religion to create and explain the functions of the religion of another culture,

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt through syncretism. However, it may provide an answer as to why gods are rarely seen performing music themselves: music, whilst they retain links to it, is more of a secondary element of their nature, and so they are more often shown in their primary function, as here in the case of Thoth. Hathor had many manifestations (especially once the distinction between her attributes and those of Isis became blurred from the Late Period onwards). Due to her assimilation with the lioness-goddess Sekhmet, she was potentially a bringer of destruction, and yet was also the goddess of music and drunkenness, whose festivals were wild affairs.5 Because of her many forms and therefore many different roles, perhaps the actual performance of music is left to the worshippers. This would also fit with Bes being the most common god to be seen with a musical instrument. He was a protective deity, used to ward away evil spirits, especially from pregnant and child-bearing women. He achieved this not only through his grotesque appearance, but also by the playing of music (creating noise in order to be frightening).6 Hence, Bes’ protective role was highly integrated with his role as a musician, explaining why he is often playing an instrument in his representations. But now to examine the two objects which form the basis of this essay.

The sistrum and its uses

The sistrum, ECM282 (fig. 2), is an example of a so-called Figure 2: ECM282, an ‘arched-sistrum’, as opposed to example of an ‘arched- the older type that took the sistrum’. © IAA University form of a temple door (‘naos- of Birmingham. sistrum’).7 Sachs believes that the sistrum was an Egyptian invention,8 although a very early type has been supposedly identified on a seal from Sumer, dated earlier than the first depiction in Egypt (of course, an earlier representation does not prove that Sumer invented it).9 The arched-sistrum became the preferred type in later Egyptian history, and was used in the Isis cults of the Graeco-Roman world.10 The holes in the loop, through which there would have been cross-bars to make the rattling sound, are very clear and quite large considering the size of the object as a whole. At the base of the loop is what seems to be a uraeus, on both sides, which appears to be part of the stylized headdress atop the goddess’ image. It is likely that this is a model instrument. The material, faience, does not necessarily rule out its actual use (though faience, of course, does not have great acoustic properties), since I would argue that the quiet rattling of a faience sistrum could be quite suitable for a religious ritual. However, the small size of this sistrum fragment, especially the loop, would make it almost useless for actual performance, and the original cross-bars would have been too small to accommodate enough additional plates (sometimes added to increase the rattling). So, it is probable that this instrument was never actually

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt used, but it is nevertheless representative of the kind of music in existence. Votive sistra are not uncommon, and were used as offerings that could be performed magically for eternity, perhaps by non-human hands.11

The rattling of the sistrum was a way to invoke a god, and the instrument was used in a variety of cults, including that of the Aten. This is evident by the great number of representations, in both royal and non-royal tombs at Tell el- Amarna, of the Amarna royal family bathed in the rays of the Aten, with the princesses playing sistra,12 and also by the presence of two sistra in the funerary assemblage of Tutankhamun.13 It has also been suggested that the rattling of a sistrum during the cult activities of Hathor placated her and invoked her benevolent manifestations.14 The presence of her face on both sides of sistra has been said to represent her opposing aspects: dangerous and benign,15 which were therefore kept in balance by the shaking of the sistrum. The instrument is not restricted to priestesses – men are also seen playing it. For instance, a scene from a Middle Kingdom tomb at Kom el-Hisn in the Delta shows a man, apparently a teacher, instructing ten women in both sistrum-playing and hand-clapping.16 Also, the statues of the bald priests of Hathor, which begin to appear regularly from the Nineteenth Dynasty, often show the individual supporting a large object that recalls the naos-sistrum, bearing the face of Hathor.17 The priests themselves occupied an intermediary function between human and god, and it can be imagined that rituals for passing on messages from ordinary people to Hathor involved playing sistra. Interestingly, Hathor is not only associated with the sistrum, and occasional representations, such as at the temple of Dendera, show priestesses in the garb of Hathor. They each beat a tambourine as the king makes offerings – they may be acting as the goddess’ representatives on earth, in order to communicate her messages to worshippers.18

The amulet and the importance of Bes

The Bes amulet, ECM1021 (fig. 3), so small and yet relatively detailed, shows the god facing left (a typical representation in this kind of amulet), holding a round tambourine, also known as a frame drum, to his left and beating it with his right hand. It is possible that his left hand or fingers also beat the drum, but the amulet is simply too small to see such detail. The position of his legs, with right leg raised, suggests he is dancing. His beard can just be made out, as can the lion’s tail. The amulet is flat-backed and has a suspension loop, which indicates its use as an amulet worn around the neck. Bes would therefore be bestowing his protective properties upon the wearer, itself a kind of communication.19 Very similar objects have been recovered from the site at Tell el-Amarna, of the same form as the amulet from the Eton Myers Collection. One example, from the collection of H.M. Tudor and supposedly found in the royal tomb, is also flat-backed, but

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt lacks a suspension loop, so it is suggested that it was used as a mummy amulet instead.20 The presence of Bes at Tell el-Amarna, the residents of which glorified the sun-disk Aten, is significant. It points to the lasting popular appeal of Bes as a personal deity, even to the extent that he resists the complete reorganisation of ancient Egyptian religion during the reign of Akhenaten.

The unusual appearance of Bes is partly because he is a dwarf. Dwarves seem to have had a significant role in the music and dance of ancient Egypt and appear as part of dancing groups.21 For instance, a scene in the tomb of Nunetjer at Giza shows a group of dancers holding sistra, including a female dwarf.22 A letter from the six-year-old pharaoh Pepi II to his official Harkhuf (recorded in the latter’s tomb), who was returning to Egypt from an expedition to the south of Egypt, states:

‘bring this dwarf with you…alive, prosperous and healthy for the dances of the god, to distract the heart and gladden the heart of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt…My majesty wishes to see this dwarf more than the produce of the mining region or of Punt.’23

Harkhuf apparently brought back a dwarf from his expedition and the young king demonstrated his eagerness to see this foreign oddity. This extract also implies the use of dwarves in religious dances as well as for entertainment.24 Perhaps such dwarves were also seen as human manifestations of Bes, and therefore the ancient Egyptians believed that the dwarf-god was communicating with them through these dwarves, or conveying an element of protection in some way by taking an actual human form. That the dwarf in this letter came from Central Africa is noteworthy as it seems to suggestthat the worship of Bes originated from those countries to the south of Egypt (Nubia).25

Melody or Rhythm?

The music represented by these two objects is percussive and therefore rhythmic, but the music found in a religious context can be melodic as well, either through the use of different kinds of instruments such as harps, or by singing. The presence of a solo, male harpist (often shown bald and with deformed eyes) is a common theme from the Old Kingdom, but it becomes more evident from the New Kingdom, and these extraordinary performers enjoy detailed representation especially in the Amarna Period.26 Bes is sometimes shown with stringed instruments such as a harp or lyre, dancing at the same time, which indicates that stringed instruments may have been made in portable sizes for such a purpose.27

Singing would have been a key element of expression in Egyptian religion, just as it is in many modern-day faiths, not least because it is a type of music available without additional equipment. A solo performer can also combine voice with other instruments, excepting wind instruments, of course, so the playing of both tambourine and sistrum could have provided a rhythmic accompaniment to song. Groups of multiple performers have greater variation at their disposal. One can easily imagine the hymns and incantations

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt performed during rituals to be sung, as it could aid the process in more than one way. Firstly, song could simply facilitate recollection of the necessary words. Secondly I must refer to another use of music: at banquet scenes (in a funerary context), a popular theme from the Old Kingdom onwards.28 Such scenes not only showed the deceased person enjoying their funerary meal with friends and family, perhaps in the hope that he may enjoy such events in the afterlife, but also involved a group of musicians, presumably there for entertainment. However, it has been suggested that these musicians also served a magical purpose, transferring the depicted food items as offerings into the next world.29 If we then use this same idea for religious singing, the music may imbue the words with additional meaning, and assist their communication to the divine sphere, as well as magically transferring offerings.

Conclusion

It has been seen that the religious function of music can be used between god and human, and between human and god, though the latter is much more common. Apart from Bes, it would seem that the music employed by the gods themselves is not so much for the communication of messages, but more for the identification of that god with music. Bes actively uses music to show his connection with and enjoyment of human past-times, but also as part of his role to repel evil spirits. The music performed by humans communicated their religious devotion to the gods, but was also key for invoking the relevant deity during rituals, as well as a potential medium for the transmission of offerings.

Endnotes

1. Good examples of chironomy can be seen in the Old Kingdom tomb of Nenkheftka at Dishasha (Cairo Museum, CG 1533. The musicians have labels identifying their role or instrument) and in the tomb of Ti at Saqqara, the latter of which Hickmann (1961: 86) uses to summarise his theories as to the pitches indicated by these hand gestures. 2. Manniche 1991: 57. Merit never enjoyed cult worship in temples of her own, as her existence was intangible, in a similar way to the goddess ‘Sekhem’ (Power). 3. Teeter 1993: 68. At the Hathor Temple of Dendera, not only is Ihy playing the sistrum, but he is accompanied by the Roman emperors Augustus, Nero and Trajan (Anderson 1976: 824). 4. Plutarch (De Iside et Osiride 3): Hermes, with whom Thoth is syncretised, invented music; Diodorus Siculus (History I.16.1): Hermes (Thoth) invented the lyre, with three strings of different pitches representing the spring, summer and winter months. Also (I.18.4), apparently Osiris was ‘laughter-loving and fond of music and the dance’ 5. Pinch 1982: 139. 6. For more information about the physical appearance of the God Bes, see the contribution by C. Graves in this project. 7. Compare, for example, two examples from the British Museum: BM 38172 (arched) and BM 38173 (naos). 92

Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt

8. Sachs 1942: 89. 9. Duchesne-Guillemin 1981: 289. 10. Duchesne-Guillemin 1981: 289. 11. Pinch 1982: 140 – votive sistra found at Deir el Bahri are of the faience arched type, like ECM282. 12. See Davies (2004a; 2004b; 2004c) and Martin (1989). 13. Manniche 1991: 86. 14. Pinch 1982: 140. 15. Pinch 1982: 140. 16. Hickmann 1961: 50. 17. For instance, the block statue of Ameneminet (Luxor Museum no.227) preserves almost the whole image of the sistrum (Clère 1995: 93). 18. Blackman 1921: 23. 19. For a full discussion of gestures as a form of communication, see the contribution by E. Millward in this project. 20. Ogdon 1981: 179. 21. Spencer 2003: 116. 22. Spencer 2003: 115. 23. Spencer 2003: 116-7. 24. Representations of dancing dwarves can be seen in many contexts. Not only do they feature as part of tomb wall decoration, such as in the tomb of Niunetjer at Giza (for an illustration, see Spencer 2003: 114), but also appear on objects, such as the knife handle in the British Museum (1922,0712.5) showing a dancing dwarf with lotus flowers and a frog. 25. Hickmann 1961: 36. Again for a full analysis of the origin of Bes, see the contribution by C. Graves in this project. 26. Manniche 1991: 99. 27. Hickmann 1961: 48. 28. Manniche 1991: 24. 29. Manniche 1991: 24.

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Connections: Communication in Ancient Egypt