Introduction Confronting Pharaonic Egypt in Late Antiquity In his 2007 monograph The Rosetta Stone and the Rebirth of Ancient Egypt , John Ray discusses a late antique inscription found in the tomb of Ramesses IV in the Valley of the Kings. According to his interpretation, this text, painted in Coptic near the entrance to the tomb, reflects a particularly Christian approach to the hieroglyphic inscriptions carved and painted in the tomb's interior:A later Christian hermit took refuge in the tomb of Ramesses IV in the Valley of the Kings, living alone among the figures which had been painted on its walls more than a millennium and a half before his day. Just inside the entrance he left an inscription in red ink in Coptic, the descendant of the old language of the Pharaohs, which was now written in a version of the Greek alphabet. He tells us how he was driven to cover up the inscriptions he could see around him, because he was terrified of the power of the words they contained. He could not read them, but he knew that they were capable of taking over his thoughts and cutting him off from his God. An Egyptologist is the last thing this nervous monk would have wanted to be.Ray uses this inscription (Figure 1) to support his larger argument that there was a profound disjuncture between the Christian Egyptian culture represented by his nervous graffiti-writing monk and the pharaonic Egyptian culture embodied in the tomb of Ramesses IV, its relief carvings, and its hieroglyphic inscriptions. He states that although Egyptian Christians lived surrounded by "the monuments of their past" in the form of pharaonic religious architecture, "the gods and the spirits of the dead who inhabited the temples and tombs were no longer theirs to revere: they had become demonic, something alien which could be feared but should not be approached. Nor could they be studied, since they were dangerous." Similar arguments have been advanced for the early Islamic period, and Egypt's double conversion, to Christianity and then to Islam, has been seen as a constituting a decisive break with the memory of the pharaonic past. Favorable assessment of Egypt's pharaonic monuments ended, it has been said, with the Greeks, and later Christian and Muslim communities were prevented by biblical traditions of "the land of Egypt" from seeing that land in anything but a negative light. However, just as a closer reading of Jacob's graffito casts doubt on Ray's interpretation, closer examination of the late antique literature on hieroglyphs challenges this dominant narrative. Late antique Christian authors, as this book shows, expressed a wide range of attitudes toward the hieroglyphic tradition in their works, and their responses were shaped both by the classical discourse that they inherited and by contemporary political and theological considerations. Confronting Pharaonic Egypt Ray's claim that late antique Christians saw the pharaonic monuments and their hieroglyphic décor as inherently problematic, even dangerous, echoes a long tradition of scholarship on the transition to Christianity in the eastern Mediterranean world and the treatment of traditional religious architecture in newly Christianized areas. Historians and archaeologists throughout much of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries relied heavily on polemical works of Christian literature and were clearly influenced by the triumphalist tone of those sources. Consequently, their work often emphasized the demonization of the old gods under the new Christian cosmology and the concomitant fear and disgust with which early Christians were purported to have approached the sacred spaces of their ancestors. In a 1953 article on the Christian reuse of pharaonic-period tombs, for example, Alexandre Badawy argues that the monks who adapted those spaces for use as hermitages were disgusted by the visible reminders of pharaonic ritual practice that they saw in the reliefs and inscriptions carved on the walls of the tombs, and that this repugnance drove them to mutilate the reliefs. According to this model, Christian Egyptians, like their counterparts throughout the Mediterranean world, existed uneasily in a demon-haunted landscape, confronted at every turn in the road by threats to their spiritual well-being. Unlike their Greco-Roman forebears, who frequently commented on the aesthetic and historical value of ancient temples and tombs, these early Christians were seen as incapable of approaching such monuments from a nonreligious standpoint. This problematic assumption has had far-reaching implications for scholarship on the late antique afterlife of pharaonic architecture; destruction of pharaonic monuments has typically been attributed to Christian zealots, while the preservation of the same has been taken as reflecting a last, desperate attempt by adherents of traditional Egyptian religion to conserve their cultural patrimony in the face of militant Christianization. Scholarship on late antique Christian responses to pharaonic monuments has undergone significant changes in the past few decades, thanks to the publication of new archaeological and documentary source material, greater sensitivity to the late antique literary sources' highly rhetorical nature, and a new recognition of the fact that although the destruction of temples and other monuments did occur, this was not necessarily the only (or the primary) Christian response to those spaces. Hand in hand with this tempering of the traditional view of militant Christian opposition to earlier cult places has come an appreciation of the particular local factors governing each instance where we can see late antique Christian communities engaging with the earlier monumental landscape. From Byzantine art lovers amassing collections of classical mythological statuary to ambitious bishops seeking to Christianize their cityscapes by the removal of such statuary and monuments, and from Christian laypeople preserving a vestigial memory of the earlier cultic topography in their use of archaic toponyms to Christian hermits utilizing ancient (and apparently haunted) tombs for the dual purposes of housing and spiritual combat, the plurality of possible Christian responses is now understood to reflect the intersection of a host of local factors--economic, political, and pragmatic, as well as cultural and religious. At the same time that this more complex view of the fate of pharaonic monuments in late antiquity has come into focus, the reception history of pharaonic Egypt more broadly conceived has also proven to be a highly productive area of inquiry. The question of how communities remember the past--and which past(s) they choose to remember--has preoccupied scholars since the pioneering work of Maurice Halbwachs in the first decades of the twentieth century, and a growing body of scholarship is devoted to exploring the ways in which societies throughout history have constructed images of the past and employed those images in forging distinctive identities for themselves. In the field of Egyptology, this burgeoning interest in what Jan Assmann terms "mnemohistory" has resulted in a proliferation of scholarly works dealing with the production and consumption of images of pharaonic Egypt. Scholars addressing the memory of Egypt from the perspective of the classical sources have painted the picture of a culture that was at once rich and strange, fascinating and repulsive, familiar and deeply alien to Greco-Roman eyes. From the Renaissance to the Victorian era, scholarship has shown that the reception of ancient Egypt in western European thought changed with shifting political and cultural currents, as Renaissance popes, Enlightenment clergymen, and Victorian politicians and entrepreneurs deployed images of, and material artifacts from, pharaonic Egypt in support of their claims to religious and temporal authority. Nor has the role of pharaonic Egypt in modern Egyptian consciousness gone unremarked, as scholars have recently highlighted the role of pharaonic imagery and claims to pharaonic descent within the early twentieth-century Egyptian nationalist movement and beyond. Hieroglyphs and the Memory of Egypt The study of the hieroglyphic script and the path to its eventual decipherment represents a significant theme within the larger academic conversation concerning pharaonic Egypt's reception history. Carved or painted on tomb and temple walls, stelae, statues, and other artifacts, hieroglyphic inscriptions were one of the most distinctive features of ancient Egyptian visual culture, and throughout Egyptian history they served as an important marker of Egyptian cultural identity. For non-Egyptians, hieroglyphs came early on to represent the "otherness" of Egypt, and authors from the classical period onward struggled to comprehend the nature of the hieroglyphic system--a question that became all the more difficult to answer after genuine knowledge of the script died out in the late Roman period. Over the past century, scholars have catalogued references to Egyptian hieroglyphs in classical literature and have begun to characterize the various interpretive methodologies by means of which ancient, medieval, and early modern authors, primarily from Western traditions, tried to explicate the hieroglyphic script. Erik Iversen's The Myth of Egypt and Its Hieroglyphs in European Tradition , first published in 1961 and reissued in 1993, is particularly significant in this context, offering as it does a detailed study of classical speculation on hieroglyphs and the legacy of that intellectual tradition in Renaissance and early modern Europe. The author intended his work to stand as a corrective to the attitude, prevalent among early twentieth-century classicists, that cultural influence in the ancient Mediterranean world was unidirectional, flowing from Greece to Egypt but not vice versa. Consequently, Iversen focused his attention on the Greek and Latin authors, their often-misguided attempts to interpret hieroglyphs, and the remarkably long afterlife of their misinterpretations in the period leading up to the early nineteenth-century decipherment of the Rosetta Stone. Since the publication of The Myth of Egypt , a number of other works have appeared that also address the later history of the hieroglyphic tradition. Both Erik Hornung and Brian Curran discuss hieroglyphs in the context of the Hermetic revival in the Italian Renaissance, and Richard Parkinson and John Ray treat classical accounts of hieroglyphic writing as a preliminary stage in the lengthy history of attempts at decipherment. Most recently, Jean Winand's brief but insightful history of hieroglyphic interpretation sets the classical commentaries on hieroglyphs firmly within the context of the script's ongoing development in the Ptolemaic and Roman periods, noting that the observations of the Greek and Roman authors, incorrect though they may be with respect to the conventions of classical Middle Egyptian, frequently do reflect aspects of Ptolemaic and Roman hieroglyphic usage. This attempted rapprochement of "classical interpretation" and "Egyptian reality" is also apparent in much of the recent scholarship on the preeminent late antique commentator on hieroglyphs, the fifth-century Egyptian scholar Horapollo. Often derided by modern Egyptologists for his attempts to interpret hieroglyphs according to an elaborate allegorical methodology, Horapollo's work has recently been subject to a reappraisal of sorts, which seeks to identify the authentic Egyptian roots of the information he presents and to draw parallels between the way he talks about hieroglyphs and the way the script is presented in Egyptian-language reflections on the scribal tradition such as the Demotic Book of Thoth. Although this impressive body of scholarship deals with sources spanning a period of more than two thousand years, from the Histories of Herodotus in the fifth century b.c.e. to the works of Champollion and his fellow philologists in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries c.e., Christian sources from the late antique period (ca. 250-700 c.e.) are almost entirely absent from the discussion. Iversen, for example, covers in a mere three pages the thousand-year gap between Horapollo's composition of the Hieroglyphica and the rediscovery and dissemination of that same work in the Italian Renaissance. Winand is even more dismissive; his history of decipherment moves briskly from classical antiquity (Chapter 1) to the Renaissance and early modern period (Chapter 2) with the observation that "during the Middle Ages, Egypt was decidedly out of fashion. . . . It is necessary to wait for the work of the humanists beginning in the fifteenth century . . . to see the rebirth of interest in ancient Egypt." What is lost by ignoring the late antique Christian sources on hieroglyphs? There is no direct Christian counterpart, in scope or focus, to Horapollo's Hieroglyphica , and anyone wishing to study late antique Christian attitudes toward hieroglyphic writing is forced to glean information from passing references in works devoted to other subjects altogether. But ignoring those brief references and skipping, as earlier studies have done, from the representation of hieroglyphs in the classical sources to the intense philological inquiry and avid Egyptomania of the Italian Renaissance risks writing late antique Christian authors out of the history of Egyptology altogether. Such a practice makes the implicit argument that for a period of nearly a thousand years, Christians in Egypt and elsewhere, their intellectual curiosity shackled by the dictates of their faith, simply closed their eyes to the visual evidence of Egypt's pharaonic traditions, reading the Scriptures but demonstrating no interest in reading or otherwise interpreting the enigmatic hieroglyphic inscriptions that fascinated countless generations both before and after them. As we shall see over the next several chapters, this view is demonstrably false. Christian authors did discuss the hieroglyphic tradition, both as they saw it with their own eyes and as they encountered it through their reading of a handful of more-or-less canonical classical accounts. This book examines the phenomenon of late antique Christian engagement with hieroglyphs with a view toward answering three principal questions: What did late antique Christian writers actually know about hieroglyphs? How and to what ends did they adopt (or adapt) the Egyptian and classical discourses on hieroglyphic writing? And what do their comments on hieroglyphs reveal about their attitudes toward the pharaonic Egyptian culture those hieroglyphs represented? Answers to these questions offer a new window into the relationship between late antique Christian communities and the rich cultural legacy of pharaonic Egypt. Scope and Method of this Study Let us return once again to the image of the nervous monk, Jacob, writing his graffito in the entryway of KV2. Ray claims that Jacob's pious fear of the hieroglyphic inscriptions found in the tomb prompted the monk to conceal them from his sight with some kind of covering. Some works of late antique Christian literature do preserve traces of a belief that hieroglyphs might represent a spiritual danger, as we shall see in Chapter 4, but a closer look at this particular inscription suggests that Jacob was actually concerned not with the hieroglyphs in the tomb, but with another inscription that he himself had written. The relevant portion of Jacob's graffito reads, "I concealed some names as if with a veil . . . but God knows that I did not know the power of the words which I concealed. I wrote them in good faith at that time." Although some passages of the graffito are obscure because of sizeable lacunae, the phrase " as if with a veil" clearly indicates that the concealment referred to is metaphorical, rather than physical. Moreover, Jacob's claim that he "wrote them in good faith" argues against the ancient tomb-inscriptions being the object of his actions; he certainly did not write those, in good faith or otherwise. Alain Delattre has proposed to see a link between this inscription and a nearby cryptographic Coptic graffito written, it would seem, by the same Jacob. According to Delattre's reading, the "concealment" Jacob speaks of here refers to the composition of the cryptographic text, which the monk wrote but later came to regret. Jacob may have feared the inscriptions adorning the walls of Ramesses IV's tomb; he may have admired their aesthetic value; he may have ignored them completely as he went about his daily routine. His graffito, however, is mute on this subject. Indeed, even the editor of the Greco-Roman graffiti in the Valley of the Kings, who staunchly maintained that late antique Christians could not possibly have visited the tombs as tourists, was forced to concede that those same Christians typically did not try to destroy the reliefs and inscriptions they encountered in the tombs. Further complicating the picture--and validating the need for a reevaluation of the available sources--is the recent discovery outside Theban Tomb 1152 of a sherd from a late Roman amphora dating to the sixth or seventh century c.e. and bearing incised hieroglyphic characters, seemingly sketched from memory. The excavators have interpreted this unique object as "a monk's random fancy and a simple sketch drawn during or after a walk around the Sheikh Abd el-Gurna necropolis, which should rather be perceived as a testimony of his fascination or curiosity about a part of the scenery." From a nervous monk allegedly concealing hieroglyphic inscriptions with a veil to an antiquarian hermit doodling hieroglyphs on a potsherd--where do we go from here? How can we access late antique Christian attitudes toward hieroglyphic writing? As noted above, there is no direct Christian equivalent to the Hieroglyphica of Horapollo or the lost work of Chaeremon on hieroglyphs. References to hieroglyphic inscriptions, and to Egyptian writing more generally, are dispersed throughout the vast corpus of late antique Christian literature, written over a span of several centuries and in more than half a dozen languages and at least as many genres. For obvious reasons, then, the present study does not pretend to be an exhaustive catalogue of such references. Rather, it proceeds thematically, examining the motif of hieroglyphs as an element of Christian discourse in four major subject areas: late antique discussions of universal history and the role of Egyptian record keeping in reconstructing antediluvian chronologies; the question of how Christians should understand the "wisdom of Egypt," thought to have been encoded in hieroglyphic inscriptions and studied, then rejected, by Moses; the perceived relationship between hieroglyphs and the Judeo-Christian tradition that represented Egypt as the quintessential land of idolatry; and late antique debates over the nature of translation and the possibility (and propriety) of cultural appropriation across linguistic and religious boundaries. Although the specific comments made about hieroglyphs differ widely across these subject areas and from one author to another, one of the main themes that emerges from these individual case studies is the fact that certain late antique Christian authors actively sought to advance their theological and political agendas by claiming the power to represent and interpret hieroglyphic inscriptions, that most traditional marker of Egyptian cultural identity. The majority of the Christian sources examined in this book come from the period stretching from the mid-third century to the mid- to late seventh century, although a few texts fall outside these parameters. Pushing the endpoint of this study into what is, politically speaking, the early Islamic period is roughly consistent with the concept of a "long" late antiquity first espoused by Peter Brown and since adopted in a number of important volumes, notably Bowersock, Brown, and Grabar's Interpreting Late Antiquity: Essays on the Postclassical World . The notion of a late antiquity beginning in the mid-third century and extending beyond the establishment of the Islamic caliphate in the mid-seventh century is not universally accepted. However, I believe it is justified for the purpose of the present work, as the discourse under discussion here draws heavily on sources from the classical tradition and, at the other end of the chronological spectrum, is itself in dialogue with the nascent genre of early medieval Islamic historiography. Because much of the present volume deals with the various ways in which hieroglyphic writing was mis interpreted by late antique authors, Chapter 1 offers a brief overview of the current Egyptological understanding of the origins and nature of the script, focusing on the different categories of hieroglyphic signs and the ways in which they combine to form larger syntactic units. The chapter also introduces the reader to Egypt's complex linguistic and graphic environment, in which multiple languages and scripts were employed concurrently. In the final section of the chapter, I explore the role of hieroglyphic writing as a marker of Egyptian religious and cultural identity and consider the role of the indigenous priesthood in preserving knowledge of the script. I argue that the obsolescence of hieroglyphic writing is closely linked to the decline of temple-centered Egyptian religion and the diminishing ranks of the priesthood under Roman imperial rule. Chapter 2 takes as its starting point some of the most common themes in the classical accounts of hieroglyphic writing--the great antiquity of hieroglyphs, the attribution of their invention to the god Thoth-Hermes, and their use in historical record keeping--and examines the ways that the classical discourse on hieroglyphs is adapted (or subverted) in the works of church fathers such as Eusebius and Augustine. These authors were closely concerned with the relationship between Christian learning and the traditions of Hellenic and Near Eastern paideia , and their comments on hieroglyphs must be understood in the context of larger late antique arguments over biblical chronology and the existence of authoritative sources for antediluvian history. Chapter 3 also considers the relationship between classical and patristic sources, looking specifically at the perceived link between hieroglyphs, esotericism, and the preservation of Egyptian priestly knowledge. The belief that hieroglyphs are a fundamentally symbolic system of communication, originally devised to encode the mysteries of Egyptian religion, is one of the most tenacious ideas to emerge from the classical discourse on hieroglyphs, and it was an idea that many of the church fathers shared. It is also a notion that resonates with very deep-seated Egyptian scribal traditions and ways of speaking about scripts and writing. Whereas the Egyptian and Greco-Roman sources privilege Egypt as a fount of primordial wisdom, however, in the Judeo-Christian tradition Egypt is excoriated as the land of oppression and idolatry. The "wisdom of Egypt" and its visual marker, hieroglyphic writing, are consequently problematized in the works of many late antique Christian commentators. Moses emerges as a key figure in these discussions, as he was said to have been educated in the Egyptian tradition but to have bested the wisest of all Egyptians--the magicians of Pharaoh-- not by drawing on his intellectual formation, but by relying instead on divine assistance. Hieroglyphs are further problematized in Chapter 4, which focuses on a unique text, a polemical sermon by the fifth-century abbot Shenoute of Atripe. Shenoute was outspoken in his desire to stamp out traditional Egyptian religion in the region of Panopolis, in Upper Egypt, and a fragmentary sermon attributed to his authorship provides us with the most detailed description of Egyptian hieroglyphs to survive in the Coptic language. In the sermon, Shenoute applies a reductionist mode of interpretation to the hieroglyphic inscriptions on the walls of a local temple, identifying them as foolish and misleading images, and denying any possibility that they could be "read" or reinterpreted in a Christian light. By emphasizing the many animal hieroglyphs used in the inscriptions, Shenoute situates hieroglyphic writing within the broader Christian discourse on Egyptian idolatry, which condemned the worship of cult images and the veneration of sacred animals, both key features of traditional Egyptian religious practice. This line of argumentation provides Shenoute with strong theological justification to support his ultimate goal, the transformation of the temple into a Christian church, and it also serves as a refutation of more conciliatory modes of interpreting the hieroglyphic legacy of pharaonic Egypt. Modes of interpretation are also the focus of Chapter 5, which examines the tension between the claim, articulated in the Corpus Hermeticum and in the works of some of the late antique Neoplatonists, that Egyptian hieroglyphs could not be translated, and countervailing claims by Christian historians and ecclesiastical leaders to have translated hieroglyphic inscriptions. The chapter centers on a very high profile incident in which the Christian interpretation of hieroglyphs played a small but important role--the destruction of the Alexandrian Serapeum during the patriarchate of Theophilus. The accounts of this event by Rufinus, Socrates Scholasticus, and Sozomen are contrasted with the account of hieroglyphic translation preserved in the Res Gestae of Ammianus Marcellinus and with a cycle of later Coptic homilies in which the interpretation of a hieroglyphic inscription is likewise of central importance. In these homilies, multiple aspects of the Christian discourse on hieroglyphs converge, including the themes of esotericism and concealment, the importance of the act of translation, and the desire to control and/or appropriate Egypt's pre-Christian past. In a seminal article from 1984, Klaas Smelik and Emily Hemelrijk argue that animal worship functioned as a kind of "national symbol" for Egypt from the Late Period onward, something that marked the Egyptians as unmistakably alien in the eyes of other nations and that, moreover, cemented the Christian church fathers' generally negative attitude toward Egypt. I contend that, in the classical discourse on Egypt, hieroglyphs served as another major symbol of Egyptian identity, and, by engaging with that discourse and commenting on the hieroglyphic script, late antique Christian authors were afforded an opportunity to discuss not just Egypt's distinctive writing system, but also the larger culture that that writing system symbolized. Considering the various forms of late antique engagement with the hieroglyphic tradition is unlikely to lead to any new understanding of the hieroglyphs themselves, nor is that the goal of this book. Rather, examining the ways in which hieroglyphs appear in the works of late antique Christian authors allows us to reflect on the way in which Egypt's pharaonic past could be used in the construction of Christian identity and ecclesiastical authority in late antiquity. Ancient Egyptian religious texts long maintained that to know the name of something was to have power over it, and in the Christian discourse on hieroglyphs, with its concern for the issues of translation and interpretation, we see a lingering echo of that ancient attitude. Being able to stand in front of hieroglyphic inscriptions and interpret them (even if the resulting interpretations bore little or no relation to the texts' original meaning) gave Christian leaders like Shenoute and Theophilus a measure of authority over the spaces in which those inscriptions were carved and, by extension, the pharaonic Egyptian culture that they represented. Note on Terminology Finally, it is necessary to say a few words about some of the terms employed throughout this book. Categorization is often fraught with difficulty, all the more so when the terminology used for the purpose of categorization is drawn from tendentious sources. Early twentieth-century scholarship, heavily influenced, as we have seen, by polemical early Christian literary sources, routinely sorted late antique individuals and communities (along with their texts, cult places, and ritual practices) into broad categories: "Christian," "Jewish," "pagan," and so forth. A significant body of recent scholarship, however, has rightly problematized the uncritical use of the terms "pagan" and "paganism," requiring scholars to either relinquish these terms or to defend their continued usage. What makes the usage of these terms so controversial? "Pagan" derives from the Latin paganus , which in early Roman usage could refer to country dwellers or "rustics" in contrast to urbanites, or to "civilians" in contrast to soldiers. By the fourth century c.e., the term had been adopted in Christian usage as a "social classifier," used to designate--and, ultimately, to stigmatize and criminalize--non-Christians and non-Jews, worshippers of the traditional Greco-Roman and Near Eastern gods. In the Christian sources, it is unquestionably a term of opprobrium, and its use by modern scholars to designate past individuals or social groups has consequently been called into question. Usage of the cognate "paganism," is, if anything, even harder to justify, as it risks imposing an artificial uniformity and systematization on an extremely diverse religious landscape and implies an acceptance of a triumphalist Christian point of view. What are the alternatives to this problematic (but highly convenient) terminology? Some historians have acknowledged the issues inherent in these terms but have continued to employ them anyway, while others have tested out various alternatives. "Polytheist" and "polytheism" have frequently been proposed as less ideologically fraught substitutes, although this is not altogether satisfying either. Hellenistic Jewish and early Christian authors utilized "polytheist" as a pejorative alongside "pagan," and "polytheism," like "paganism," risks lending a false appearance of unity to otherwise independent cults; it also fails to acknowledge trends toward monotheistic thought that existed in certain Greek, Roman, and Near Eastern religious traditions (what is sometimes characterized as "pagan monotheism"). The approach I have taken in this book is as follows. In recognition of the issues outlined above, I have eschewed the use of "paganism" altogether and have tried to be cautious in my use of "polytheism" and "polytheist." I have, however, continued to employ "pagan" in certain circumstances: in translations, to render paganus and their derivatives; in representing the work of other scholars who make use of the term; and in representing the arguments of late antique Christian authors themselves. Wherever possible, I have tried to employ more context-specific terminology: "practitioners of traditional Egyptian religion," and the like. Excerpted from Egyptian Hieroglyphs in the Late Antique Imagination by Jennifer Taylor Westerfeld All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
