Originally posted on Faces&Voices:
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Originally posted on Faces&Voices:
View original 65 more words
Our fragment (Acc. no. 4624) came to the Manchester Museum from the excavations of Edouard Naville at the site of Deir el-Bahri between 1894 and 1907. A more precise provenance for the piece or when exactly it entered the collection is not known. The fragment is 48.5cm high and 31cm wide, made of indurated limestone, and depicts the lower portion of a seated figure at about half lifesize. It is badly damaged but still carries hieroglyphic text on the sides of the seat, base and over the knees. Interestingly, the seat retains an artisan’s red ink guidelines for the inscription. Traces remain of blue pigment within individual hieroglyphic signs, implying that the statue was not, however, left unfinished.
The identity of the individual represented is recorded in our catalogue – based on hieroglyphs on the base – as ‘the priest of Amun, Userhat’ and the piece is there dated to the Middle Kingdom. I had often wondered who this mysterious priest Userhat was. Because the favour formula only begins to appear on elite statues at the end of the Middle Kingdom, I speculated if this was one of the first examples of it. And given that the formula usually only appeared on sculptures of the very high elite at this time, I wondered why a simple ‘priest of Amun’ had been so favoured.
I thought no more about the fragment until the visit last Autumn of Prof. Rainer Hannig, of the University of Marburg. During a very genial and informative discussion with Rainer, I pointed the piece out and – almost as an afterthought – he noted that the hieroglyphs identifying the owner (Hm-nTr n imn wsr-hAt) could be read as a single title: ‘the priest of Amun-Userhat (a name of the sacred barque of Amun at Karnak)’, a title known to be held by only one person: Senenmut – high official under Queen Hatshepsut and one of the most well-known individuals from ancient Egypt.
It was with considerable anticipation that I checked the other titles on the statue (‘nobleman’, ‘governor’, and the slightly more unusual ‘overseer of the priests of Montu in Armant’) and found that each was attested for Senenmut. Knowing that the statue was from Deir el-Bahri, the site of Hatshepsut’s famous mortuary temple, I became really rather excited. On closer inspection of the statue itself, it was apparent that the lap of the figure seemed to rise somewhat before the mid-thigh break and no hands were visible. Could it be that this was a broken example of Senenmut in his innovative pose with Hatshepsut’s daughter, Neferure, bound within his cloak on his lap? Perhaps most revealing of all, upon close examination of the remains of the favour formula which had first attracted my attention I noticed that the statue was given as favour not by a ‘king’ at all – but by a ‘god’s wife’. There is only one
example known to me of this variant of the favour formula, and that statue (Cairo CG 42117) belongs to Senenmut. Whether this ‘god’s wife’ is Hatshepsut herself or her daughter is unclear.
Six more statues of the total of 25 known for Senenmut carry the statement that they were ‘given as favour of the king’. In the inscriptions of another (CG 42214), Senenmut makes the following unusual – and somewhat touching – appeal to Queen Hatshepsut, explaining perhaps why he possessed so many statues:
Grant that there be commanded for this your humble servant the causing that there be made for me many statues of every kind of precious hard stone for the temple of Amun in Karnak and for every place wherein the majesty of this god proceeds, as [was done] for every favoured one of the past; then they shall be in the following of the statues of Your Majesty in this temple.
Senenmut hoped that by dedicating a range of sculptures – many of them innovative in their motifs, and set up in different locations – he would increase the chances of his memory lasting for eternity. Others, it seems, had different ideas. There is evidence that some – though not all – of Senenmut’s images were maliciously attacked. Perhaps this was carried out by those with a unknown person grudge against Senenmut? Perhaps by those who thought his relationship with the Queen inappropriate? Or perhaps by those that hated Hatshepsut herself? Perhaps even by later people for whom the very idea of a female pharaoh was anathema? Whatever the motivation, maybe this is the reason that the Manchester fragment is so badly damaged.
Senenmut’s life has inspired more scholarly and popular writing than almost any other non-royal from Pharaonic times. I am quite sure that this bashed-up fragment, which has lain unrecognised in Manchester for over a century, represents the twenty-sixth attested statue for Senenmut. Information from its texts and archaeological context may well add important details to the Senenmut story, illustrating that exciting new finds await discovery in even the most supposedly well-known collections.
- Delvaux, L. 2008. Donné en récompense de la part du roi‖ (djw m Hswt nt xr nsw), Unpublished PhD dissertation: Strasbourg.
- Dorman, P. 1988. The Monuments of Senenmut: Problems in Historical Methodology, London.
- Meyer, C. 1982. Senenmut: Eine prosopographische Untersuchung, Hamburg.
- Price, C. 2011. Materiality, Archaism and Formula: The Conceptualisation of the Non-Royal Statue during the Egyptian Late Period (c. 750-30 BC), Unpublished PhD dissertation: Liverpool.
A full publication of the Manchester fragment is currently in preparation.
The mummy and coffins of Asru, an elite lady from 25th-26th Dynasty (c. 750-525 BC) Thebes, were among the earliest additions to what was to become the Manchester Museum collection when they were donated to the Manchester Natural History Society by William and Robert Garnett in 1825. She has already been unwrapped, probably at one of the fashionable ‘mummy unrollings’ of the period. In modern times, Asru proved to be the perfect patient when she was investigated by the Manchester Egyptian Mummy Project in the 1970s, because she had suffered from so many ailments – including arthritis, and parasitic infestations such as Strongyloides and Schistosomiasis (Bilharzia).
In 2012, in preparation for the re-opening of our Ancient Worlds galleries, all of the Museum’s 20 complete human mummies – including Asru – were scanned using the most up-to-date technology at the nearby Manchester Children’s hospital. The scans, conducted in collaboration with Professor of Radiology Judith Adams, featured on a number of TV reports but much of the new information derived did not become apparent until the scans had been properly and carefully analysed, sometimes taking months after the scanning session. PhD researcher Robert Loynes was instrumental, bringing his knowledge as a medical practitioner to the study of mummified remains.
The latest CT-scans confirmed Asru to have been an elderly woman for ancient Egypt, between 50 and 60 years of age at death. Interestingly, there was new evidence of arthritis in her neck, consistent with bearing a heavy weight over a prolonged period. Greater Manchester Police had established in the 1970s that, on the basis of her fingerprints, Asru’s hands and feet showed that she had lived a life of comparative ease. Perhaps what she carried on her head had a ritual rather than practical function?
Most interesting of all was the new information revealed about Asru’s mummification technique. CT-scans confirmed that, like many Egyptian mummies, Asru’s brain had been removed from the skull. Yet, rather than evidencing the standard method of extracting the brain through the nose, Asru’s ethmoid bone was found to be intact. Instead, transorbital excerebration had been performed: the removal of brain matter through the eye sockets. This is known in other cases but appears to have been extremely unusual.
Recently an opportunity also arose to examine Asru’s two coffins more closely, and to read the extensive inscriptions on them. These texts are mainly formulaic prayers for offerings and provide very little in the way of personal information. This is contrast to ideas held when mummies and coffins, like those of Asru, were arriving in the West; collectors believed that the texts were largely biographical and gave detailed accounts of the life of the coffins’ occupant. Such ‘biographies’ that were supplied in displays were often completely fictional, in an attempt to add interest and a humanising gloss to a curiosity. Thus, when Asru (read as ‘Asroni’) was first exhibited she was referred to as a ‘maid of honour in the court of the 20th(!) pharaoh’ – perhaps just because of the prestigious ‘look’ of her mummy and coffins.
Asru’s own name means “Her arm against them”, probably a reference to the protective power of the goddess Mut, consort of the Theban god Amun. This apotropaic formulation is especially typical for non-royal names during the Late Period (c. 750-30 BC). Asru holds no titles and is in fact only ever designated ‘Lady of the House’ (= ‘married woman’) on her coffins. The title ‘temple singer’ may come from confusion with other female mummies in the collection or developed out of her false identity as a ‘handmaiden.’
Most excitingly of all, it has been possible to read the names of her parents. Asru’s mother is identified as the ‘Lady of the House’ Ta-di-amun (‘She whom Amun has given’) and her father was called Pa-kush (‘The Kushite’), a ‘document scribe of the southern region’.
Given that, based on the style of her coffins, Asru is likely to have lived and died at Thebes in the 25-26th Dynasty, this is of potentially great interest. Egypt was ruled by Kushite kings during the 25th Dynasty, who had a stronghold at Thebes. Might Asru’s father have been a part of their administration? If so, she may have been very important indeed. Such findings prove the value of reassessing evidence which may already seem well-known.
In the last of her guest blogs, British Museum Future Curator trainee Anna Garnett describes material from the New Kingdom site of Sesebi
This week I recorded two lectures for Manchester University’s Online Diploma course in Egyptology, organised by Dr. Joyce Tyldesley. To complement the course structure, and to draw upon my own experiences, I gave an introduction to New Kingdom Nubia (the northernmost part of modern Northern Sudan) focussing on the site of Sesebi.
The Nile Valley, stretching from Egypt into Sudan, was a vital trade link and corridor of exotic materials, people and ideas throughout the pharaonic period. During the New Kingdom (c. 1550-1069 BC) the Egyptian pharaohs pushed further and further into Nubia with military campaigns, in order to bring the area under Egyptian control and therefore have power over the Nubian resources, which significantly included gold mines. During this time, the administration of Nubia was placed under the control of an important official known as the ‘Viceroy of Kush’, or the ‘King’s Son of Kush’; a title which emphasises their close relationship to the king. The Viceroy also supervised the tribute coming into Egypt.
The region of Upper (southern) Nubia was known to the Egyptians as ‘Kush’; an area which the New Kingdom Egyptians recognised as ‘Vile Kush’. Egyptian pharaohs established a large and complex system of fortifications and patrols in the area as a very visible message of domination to the local Nubian population. These fortifications often included temples and domestic architecture, and are known as ‘temple-towns’. One such example is the ‘temple-town’ of Sesebi, on the west bank of the Nile in the region of the Second Nile Cataract.
This site was constructed mainly during the Amarna Period during the reign of Akhenaten (c. 1350-1334 BC) and is currently being investigated by a team directed by Dr. Kate Spence (University of Cambridge) and Dr. Pamela Rose (Austrian Archaeological Institute). A temple dedicated to Amun-Re, Mut and Khonsu, domestic housing and storage facilities were built within an impressive
buttressed mudbrick fortification wall enclosing an area of approximately 270 x 200m. The modern site of Sesebi is characterised by the three remaining standing sandstone columns which preserve oval name-rings containing the names of Egypt’s conquered enemies. Close comparisons can be made between the layout of Sesebi and the contemporary royal centre at Amarna in Egypt.
The temple area was excavated by a team from the Egypt Exploration Society directed by A. M. Blackman and H. W. Fairman from 1936-8. Manchester Museum was a donor to those excavations and as a result received a selection of excavated objects for their collection. These
objects include faience jewellery (e.g. Acc. No. 9454), pottery sherds (e.g. Acc. No. 9469), faience moulds (e.g. Acc. No. 9468) and also a scarab of Ramesses II (Acc. No. 9456), an object which illustrates later activity at the site during the 19th Dynasty. Ongoing fieldwork and study of these so-called ‘temple-towns’, which also included such sites as Soleb, Sedeinga, Amara West and Sai, is beginning to reveal the intricacies of the New Kingdom occupation of those sites and indeed the complex relationship between the settled Egyptians and the local Nubian population at these key strategic locations.
Anna finishes her traineeship at Manchester Museum at the end of 2013 and will be returning to the Sudan for fieldwork in early 2014. Visit Anna’s blog here.
Bram Stoker’s inspiration in Manchester? My colleague Bryan Sitch discusses the evidence.
Originally posted on Ancient Worlds:
In earlier blog about a recent ACCES meeting at Manchester Museum I discussed the careers of two northern collectors of Egyptology with links to the North West. One was Aquila Dodgson. The other collector, Thomas Sheppard, was a larger-than-life character (seen holding up the local antiques shop in a cartoon above) who has been described as ‘one of the most successful museum curators of the first half of the 20th century’. Sheppard’s success in creating new museums in Hull was largely down to his collecting activities. He collected practically anything and everything during his 40 year career, including Egyptology. The reason for talking about him at a seminar about Egyptology in the North West was an unexpected link to the Manchester mummy Ta-sheri-ankh brought to my attention by Campbell Price, Curator of Egypt and the Sudan at Manchester Museum.
Campbell told me…
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Use of coral in ancient Egypt was very limited. This is reflected by the fact that in the Manchester Museum’s collection of over 16,000 artefacts from ancient Egypt and Sudan only two items have elements that are made from coral.
This string of beads (Acc. no. 7169) comes from a grave excavated by the British School of Archaeology in Egypt at the site of Qau el-Kebir. The string may have formed a bracelet, an anklet or part of a larger necklace. It consists of 41 green glass beads, two of carnelian, one of gilt glass, and three long coral beads. Glass beads imitating gold and pearl provide a useful dating criterion as they seem to be an innovation of the Ptolemaic Period (332-30 BC) and continue to be used into Christian times (Fourth Century AD). Our string is most likely to date to between 30 BC and 394 AD, when Egypt was a province of the Roman Empire.
For the Egyptians, the nearest source of coral lay in the reefs of the Red Sea to the east of the Nile Valley. Red Sea coral (Tubipora musica) is attested in small numbers of grave goods from the Predynastic period (c. 5000-3100 BC) onwards, chiefly in the form of beads. Trade between the Nile Valley and the Red Sea coast is well-attested, and several areas of Egyptian occupation are known throughout the Pharaonic Period and later. Items arriving in Egypt through this route included a range of shells, sea urchins, coral and other materials. Due to its comparative rarity, coral is likely to have been prized by the ancient Egyptians as exotica, a material particularly suitable for use in small amounts in jewellery. The ownership of such items also implied wealth and status for the wearer.
It is unclear what, if any, special properties or associations coral had for the ancient Egyptians but colour symbolism was important in Pharaonic art. While blues and greens represented fresh growth, new life and rebirth after death, red stones such as carnelian and jasper were often used to represent solar elements in jewellery. Red also represented blood, and in Chapter 156 from the Book of the Dead, known as the ‘Chapter for a Knot-amulet of Red Jasper’, protection is sought through the blood of the goddess Isis:
You have your blood, O Isis; you have your power, O Isis; you have your magic, O Isis. The amulet is a protection for this Great One which will drive away whoever would commit a crime against him.
It may be assumed that these associations also applied to coral. As so often in Egyptian jewellery, colour was primarily symbolic rather than simply decorative.
This object can be seen in our new exhibition, Coral: Something Rich and Strange, from 29th November 2013. This blogpost is taken from an entry in the exhibition catalogue, edited by M. Endt-Jones and published by Liverpool University Press.
“Ancestors in Ancient Egypt: Images and Practice”
Dr. Campbell Price, Curator of Egypt and Sudan
Kanaris Lecture Theatre, 6pm, Wednesday 4th December 2013
The existence of an ancestor cult in ancient Egypt has traditionally been downplayed by Egyptologists, in comparison with practices recognised in other African civilizations. In Pharaonic Egypt, ancestor worship has tended to be subsumed within a general reverence for deceased relatives, which dominates and motivates much of the monumental record. Viewing Egypt in its African context, this lecture will assess some points of comparison between ritual practice during the Egyptian New Kingdom (c. 1550-1070 BC) and the treatment of clay figurines from Komaland in Ghana, currently the subject of an exhibition entitled ‘Fragmentary Ancestors’ at the Museum. Possible connections include the manner of fashioning an image, its power as an object, expected interactions with the image, and the deliberate deposition of it.
This discussion is part of a wider research project which examines the interaction of individuals with standing monuments, and the extent to which those relationships are conceptualised and expressed on the monuments themselves. While compelling archaeological evidence for specifically ancestral veneration is limited in Pharaonic Egypt, texts and iconography are enticingly rich, and open to interpretation. This lecture presents a range of material and returns to the recurring question of how far Egyptology can engage with archaeological and enthnographic parallels.
More information here