Early Historical Times Archaeological research enables us to trace the origins of the pharaonic kingdom to the prehistoric past, and ancient Egyptian culture itself was aware of the great depths of time lying behind it. In the annals of the Old Kingdom, historical tradition already gave a long list of names of prehistoric rulers before the kings of the dynastic period. This list, based on oral tradition, may perhaps mention the names of some genuine prehistoric chieftains and petty kings, but it is impossible to check today. The later historical traditions of ancient Egypt, as they have come down to us in New Kingdom documents, transferred the prehistory of the pharaonic kingdom to the realms of mythology, deriving the origin of the kings’ dominion over Egypt from the sun god’s control over his creation. The kingship is ascribed to its first human bearer only after generations of gods and ancestral spirits have been mentioned. The King Lists give the name of Menes to this ruler, who was supposed to head the list of historical holders of the office. His image appears in the ornamental relief of the funerary temple of Ramesses II, in a procession of statues of royal ancestors, after Mentuhotep II, founder of the Middle Kingdom, and Ahmose, founder of the New Kingdom. The writers of classical antiquity, headed by the Greek historian Herodotus, relied on this tradition, and constructed an image of the first king of the First Dynasty as originator and cultural founder of the realm.
The search for this King Menes — so prominent in later tradition — in the contemporary sources of the Early Dynastic Period proves to be unexpectedly difficult. Judging by its form, the name Menes is the king’s birth name. However, the oldest monuments call the rulers exclusively by their “Horus name,” the name they took only on accession to the throne and bore by virtue of their royal role. Consequently it is only inference from a number of clues (although a fairly safe inference) that makes us believe that King Menes was the “Horus Aha” (the name means “warrior”) whose tomb lies in the necropolis of the First Dynasty kings in Abydos, and who is named in many contemporary documentary records.
Why did the ancient Egyptian view of history present this king’s emergence as such a turning point? Modern research, preferring to emphasize continuity and demonstrate slow, smooth developments by detailed analysis, does not find it easy to relate to this clear—cut, epochal line. Is it simply coincidence, the incidental result of some development in bureaucratic accounting techniques — or is it pure fiction? Can any definite meaning be found in it?
The Unification of the Two Lands
Any discussion of this issue must revolve around the term “unification.” It too is ultimately a concept of ancient Egyptian culture. The land of Egypt was regarded as made up of two linked halves, Upper and Lower Egypt, and the pharaonic kingship as a double institution: the Pharaoh ruled both parts of the country. Every ruler had to perform anew the ritual of the “unification of the two lands” on ascending the throne. This pattern of geographical dualism permeates Egyptian thinking. Crowns, architectural forms, emblematic plants and divinities were symmetrically allotted to the two parts of the country. It made no difference to this state of affairs that the crown of Lower Egypt, the Red Crown, for instance, is pictorially represented for the first time (in the mid-fourth millennium BC) in the middle of Upper Egypt, in fact in Naqada itself and cannot possibly have been of genuinely Lower Egyptian origin. Such cases make the conventional and historically very dubious character of this schematic approach clear. Consequently, only an unprejudiced study of sources from the period just before the First Dynasty can show how far the key to understanding of the foundation of the ancient Egyptian state is to be discovered there. Archaeological finds help us to trace the rise of kingship through the development of elite cemeteries and the tombs of rulers, a development continuing into the Protodynastic period (in archaeological terms, the Naqada III Period).
A remarkable example of this group of finds has recently been discovered in excavations of the elite cemetery at Abydos, later the royal cemetery. This tomb, consisting of bricks lining a rectangular pit, is unexpectedly differentiated in structure. The burial chamber itself, where the ruler to whom the tomb belonged was once laid to rest in a wooden coffin, adjoins a complex of several other rooms, possibly representing a palace building or a work of ritual architecture. By good fortune, large quantities of the grave goods have been preserved, including hundreds of imported clay vessels from Palestine that probably once held wine, and labels and ink inscriptions providing evidence of an administrative labeling system at quite a sophisticated level. Such material gives us some idea of the splendor and the political and economic resources of the courts of Predynastic rulers.
A few generations before Menes, the first inscriptions recording kings’ names in the style of the later royal titulary appear. They show the Horus falcon on a stylized palace facade with the king’s name inscribed in it. It has become usual to describe the series of rulers recorded like this as “Dynasty 0.” It is not easy to form any detailed idea of the role of these kings and the areas over which they reigned; sometimes only local evidence is available. Only the last king of this group, Narmer, the predecessor and (if the records are correct) the father of Horus Aha or Menes, is mentioned throughout the country, from Hierakonpolis in the south to the northeast of the Delta; it was by Narmer at the latest that the political unification of the country was finally achieved.
Objects with relief ornamentation, particularly cosmetic palettes, ivory knife handles and maceheads, constitute an important source of information on this period and its culture, and contemporary historical events. In these items Egyptian art expresses itself for the first time in large-scale compositions on a high aesthetic level. There is clear Mesopotamian influence, stylistically and in the repertory of motifs; sometimes, as in the Gebel el-Arak knife handle, it is so strong that we may even assume the reliefs on this obviously Egyptian piece were executed for an Egyptian patron by a Mesopotamian artist living in Egypt. Animals are a major subject of this kind of art: both in composite friezes of curious design, but chiefly in pictures of animals fighting, for instance dogs and predatory wild cats bringing down antelopes. Occasional fabulous creatures such as griffins and snake-necked panthers show that an imaginary world is being depicted. Other subjects are hunting, and above all war. These depictions show emblematic standards, personified as part of the king’s retinue by the addition of arms, leading away bound enemies while the dead are torn to pieces by birds of prey on the battlefield. Lions and bulls triumphing over a human opponent are often shown in such contexts. They are symbolically exaggerated representations of the king, and the lion and bull were still the most common symbols of the pharaoh at a later date. The political content of the scene is thus clear, and can be identified even more precisely once there are accompanying inscriptions. For instance, one side of a palette preserved in fragmentary condition shows the destruction of fortified settlements by animals representing the protective powers of the king. The design on the back of the palette probably shows the loot being taken away: a herd of three rows of animals above an orchard with the inscription “Libya.” It is clear that the battles to which the pictures relate went beyond Egyptian territory. Howevei the ceremonial palette of King Narmei probably the best known item of this genre, is concerned with the political union of Egypt. On one side, it shows the king standing, striking down an enemy whose name (or that of the territory he represents) is inscribed next to him. The depiction on the right repeats the same information, partly in writing, partly in pictures. A falcon holds an oval of land on a leash; the land, personified by the addition of a human head, is identified by the papyrus reeds growing from it. The top part of the other side shows the king with his retinue, inspecting two rows of decapitated enemies. These scenes have always been thought to depict the conquest of an area in Lower Egypt, and a label from the time of Narmer recently found in Abydos, identifying a year by the “smiting” of a land identified by papyrus reeds, confirms this interpretation. The picture of the two captive snake-necked panthers in the lower part of the palette, with the depression to take ointment set in it, has been compared to the symbolic representation at a later date of the “unification of the two lands” in which the two emblematic plants of Upper and Lower Egypt are intertwined in a similarly symmetrical composition. Although it is impossible to give even an approximate account of the historical events this palette records, it may be regarded as referring to the final stage in the political unification of the country.
Stylistically, the Narmer palette shows the basic features of the canonical art of pharaonic Egypt in its clear-cut (one might almost say rigid) construction. By comparison with the drama of older pieces, the tendency toward a stiffly emblematic design is unmistakable. The whole concept of the representation also shifts from procedure to structure: from violence and war as deeds and events in themselves to the political order they have imposed. Consequently the picture of the king striking down his enemies represents not just a single moment and a single event, but the state’s claim to dominion in general and its monopoly of power.
In most cases, it is not known in exactly what circumstances such pieces were found. The Narmer palette, howevei and several ornamented maceheads, come from the temple of Hierakonpolis, where they had been dedicated to the god Horus. In this connection their format is interesting. More than twice the size of the everyday items from which their shapes derive, they are not only masterpieces of craftsmanship but already show art striving toward monumentality. Remains of monumental pieces have also been found in the temple of the town of Coptos, on the east bank of the Nile opposite Naqada, a little way north of Thebes. The finest among them are the torsos of at least three statues of the god Mm, which must once have stood some 4 m high. These finds illustrate the importance and magnificence of the temples of the gods in the central towns of Upper Egypt. They also provide evidence of the part played by the practice of their cults as a platform for the ruler while the institution of the monarchy was emerging.
Seen as a whole, the period of the unification of the two lands has a character very much its own, and the unification itself proves to have been a long process rather than a sudden event. King Menes, therefore, does not figure as the creator of the country’s political unity but as heir to it, and matters remained more or less the same. What had once been at dispute was now secured: unopposed, a unified political system covered the entire territory of Egypt within its natural boundaries, a state of such dimensions as the world had never seen before. The consequences of this new situation became the history of the Early Dynastic Period.
The search for this King Menes — so prominent in later tradition — in the contemporary sources of the Early Dynastic Period proves to be unexpectedly difficult. Judging by its form, the name Menes is the king’s birth name. However, the oldest monuments call the rulers exclusively by their “Horus name,” the name they took only on accession to the throne and bore by virtue of their royal role. Consequently it is only inference from a number of clues (although a fairly safe inference) that makes us believe that King Menes was the “Horus Aha” (the name means “warrior”) whose tomb lies in the necropolis of the First Dynasty kings in Abydos, and who is named in many contemporary documentary records.
Why did the ancient Egyptian view of history present this king’s emergence as such a turning point? Modern research, preferring to emphasize continuity and demonstrate slow, smooth developments by detailed analysis, does not find it easy to relate to this clear—cut, epochal line. Is it simply coincidence, the incidental result of some development in bureaucratic accounting techniques — or is it pure fiction? Can any definite meaning be found in it?
The Unification of the Two Lands
Any discussion of this issue must revolve around the term “unification.” It too is ultimately a concept of ancient Egyptian culture. The land of Egypt was regarded as made up of two linked halves, Upper and Lower Egypt, and the pharaonic kingship as a double institution: the Pharaoh ruled both parts of the country. Every ruler had to perform anew the ritual of the “unification of the two lands” on ascending the throne. This pattern of geographical dualism permeates Egyptian thinking. Crowns, architectural forms, emblematic plants and divinities were symmetrically allotted to the two parts of the country. It made no difference to this state of affairs that the crown of Lower Egypt, the Red Crown, for instance, is pictorially represented for the first time (in the mid-fourth millennium BC) in the middle of Upper Egypt, in fact in Naqada itself and cannot possibly have been of genuinely Lower Egyptian origin. Such cases make the conventional and historically very dubious character of this schematic approach clear. Consequently, only an unprejudiced study of sources from the period just before the First Dynasty can show how far the key to understanding of the foundation of the ancient Egyptian state is to be discovered there. Archaeological finds help us to trace the rise of kingship through the development of elite cemeteries and the tombs of rulers, a development continuing into the Protodynastic period (in archaeological terms, the Naqada III Period).
A remarkable example of this group of finds has recently been discovered in excavations of the elite cemetery at Abydos, later the royal cemetery. This tomb, consisting of bricks lining a rectangular pit, is unexpectedly differentiated in structure. The burial chamber itself, where the ruler to whom the tomb belonged was once laid to rest in a wooden coffin, adjoins a complex of several other rooms, possibly representing a palace building or a work of ritual architecture. By good fortune, large quantities of the grave goods have been preserved, including hundreds of imported clay vessels from Palestine that probably once held wine, and labels and ink inscriptions providing evidence of an administrative labeling system at quite a sophisticated level. Such material gives us some idea of the splendor and the political and economic resources of the courts of Predynastic rulers.
A few generations before Menes, the first inscriptions recording kings’ names in the style of the later royal titulary appear. They show the Horus falcon on a stylized palace facade with the king’s name inscribed in it. It has become usual to describe the series of rulers recorded like this as “Dynasty 0.” It is not easy to form any detailed idea of the role of these kings and the areas over which they reigned; sometimes only local evidence is available. Only the last king of this group, Narmer, the predecessor and (if the records are correct) the father of Horus Aha or Menes, is mentioned throughout the country, from Hierakonpolis in the south to the northeast of the Delta; it was by Narmer at the latest that the political unification of the country was finally achieved.
Objects with relief ornamentation, particularly cosmetic palettes, ivory knife handles and maceheads, constitute an important source of information on this period and its culture, and contemporary historical events. In these items Egyptian art expresses itself for the first time in large-scale compositions on a high aesthetic level. There is clear Mesopotamian influence, stylistically and in the repertory of motifs; sometimes, as in the Gebel el-Arak knife handle, it is so strong that we may even assume the reliefs on this obviously Egyptian piece were executed for an Egyptian patron by a Mesopotamian artist living in Egypt. Animals are a major subject of this kind of art: both in composite friezes of curious design, but chiefly in pictures of animals fighting, for instance dogs and predatory wild cats bringing down antelopes. Occasional fabulous creatures such as griffins and snake-necked panthers show that an imaginary world is being depicted. Other subjects are hunting, and above all war. These depictions show emblematic standards, personified as part of the king’s retinue by the addition of arms, leading away bound enemies while the dead are torn to pieces by birds of prey on the battlefield. Lions and bulls triumphing over a human opponent are often shown in such contexts. They are symbolically exaggerated representations of the king, and the lion and bull were still the most common symbols of the pharaoh at a later date. The political content of the scene is thus clear, and can be identified even more precisely once there are accompanying inscriptions. For instance, one side of a palette preserved in fragmentary condition shows the destruction of fortified settlements by animals representing the protective powers of the king. The design on the back of the palette probably shows the loot being taken away: a herd of three rows of animals above an orchard with the inscription “Libya.” It is clear that the battles to which the pictures relate went beyond Egyptian territory. Howevei the ceremonial palette of King Narmei probably the best known item of this genre, is concerned with the political union of Egypt. On one side, it shows the king standing, striking down an enemy whose name (or that of the territory he represents) is inscribed next to him. The depiction on the right repeats the same information, partly in writing, partly in pictures. A falcon holds an oval of land on a leash; the land, personified by the addition of a human head, is identified by the papyrus reeds growing from it. The top part of the other side shows the king with his retinue, inspecting two rows of decapitated enemies. These scenes have always been thought to depict the conquest of an area in Lower Egypt, and a label from the time of Narmer recently found in Abydos, identifying a year by the “smiting” of a land identified by papyrus reeds, confirms this interpretation. The picture of the two captive snake-necked panthers in the lower part of the palette, with the depression to take ointment set in it, has been compared to the symbolic representation at a later date of the “unification of the two lands” in which the two emblematic plants of Upper and Lower Egypt are intertwined in a similarly symmetrical composition. Although it is impossible to give even an approximate account of the historical events this palette records, it may be regarded as referring to the final stage in the political unification of the country.
Stylistically, the Narmer palette shows the basic features of the canonical art of pharaonic Egypt in its clear-cut (one might almost say rigid) construction. By comparison with the drama of older pieces, the tendency toward a stiffly emblematic design is unmistakable. The whole concept of the representation also shifts from procedure to structure: from violence and war as deeds and events in themselves to the political order they have imposed. Consequently the picture of the king striking down his enemies represents not just a single moment and a single event, but the state’s claim to dominion in general and its monopoly of power.
In most cases, it is not known in exactly what circumstances such pieces were found. The Narmer palette, howevei and several ornamented maceheads, come from the temple of Hierakonpolis, where they had been dedicated to the god Horus. In this connection their format is interesting. More than twice the size of the everyday items from which their shapes derive, they are not only masterpieces of craftsmanship but already show art striving toward monumentality. Remains of monumental pieces have also been found in the temple of the town of Coptos, on the east bank of the Nile opposite Naqada, a little way north of Thebes. The finest among them are the torsos of at least three statues of the god Mm, which must once have stood some 4 m high. These finds illustrate the importance and magnificence of the temples of the gods in the central towns of Upper Egypt. They also provide evidence of the part played by the practice of their cults as a platform for the ruler while the institution of the monarchy was emerging.
Seen as a whole, the period of the unification of the two lands has a character very much its own, and the unification itself proves to have been a long process rather than a sudden event. King Menes, therefore, does not figure as the creator of the country’s political unity but as heir to it, and matters remained more or less the same. What had once been at dispute was now secured: unopposed, a unified political system covered the entire territory of Egypt within its natural boundaries, a state of such dimensions as the world had never seen before. The consequences of this new situation became the history of the Early Dynastic Period.
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