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Ancient Egypt Magazine

Volume Three Issue Three  -- November/December  2002

Monsters in Ancient Egyptian Art

Whilst almost every student of pharaonic civilization is quite familiar with the dazzling array of bird and animal life illustrated in its art and hieroglyphic writing, there is often considerably less awareness of the monsters or fantastic creatures which also appear over the course of Egypt’s long history. Patrick Houlihan surveys a selection of these imaginary beasts and, briefly explores their respective roles in antiquity.

This is an overview of one of the most peculiar natural history conceptions of the ancient Egyptians: the belief in monsters. Mythical marvels first emerge in iconography during predynastic times and can be documented down through the Graeco-Roman Period and beyond. For the residents of the Nile Valley, these extraordinary oddities were judged to be just as real as any other regular living wildlife species, if only more mysterious and dangerous. In fact, these unnatural creations are occasionally executed in art, mingling right along with the standard desert game animals in hunting scenes, especially in the Middle Kingdom tomb-chapels. Lest we should forget, Western made maps of Africa, as recently as just four or five centuries ago, represented the immense interior of the continent as inhabited by fearsome dragons and other malicious beings. In the absence of fact, these represented the unknown and the unexplored.

How is the truly monstrous in Egyptian art to be defined? For our purposes, it does not include the pantheon of deities and minor demons which were routinely portrayed as having the body of a human being, but shown with the head of some sort of animal, bird or even an insect. These are composite figures which have a definite logic to them, where the head becomes the critical element of the figure, while the body is reduced to a secondary importance. They can accordingly be read, in the manner of a hieroglyphic sign. So a falcon-headed god is a falcon-god pictured in human form. Precisely the reverse holds true too. Thus, when a king or queen assumes the appearance of a lion, it will still retain the human head of the individual portrayed, while the body displays the characteristics of a lion.

The monarch as griffin. Male and Female rulers of Egypt adopted this image.

Incongruous elements

The dynasty IV Great Sphinx at Giza is, without doubt, the most conspicuous example, capturing Khephren in godly leonine form, protecting the approach to his pyramid. Abit more complex, but along the same lines of blending of human and beast, is a frightening sphinx with the long tail of a Nile crocodile, such as the colossal statue of one still in situ at Amenhotep III’s mortuary temple at Thebes (Kom el-Hetan), dating from dynasty XVIII. Here, in this article, we will use the term monster as a purely fancied beast, one that never actually walked the face of the earth, but lived exclusively in the imagination, and subsequent artistic creativity, of humankind. They were typically illustrated compounded of various incongruous elements of animal types, the result being not infrequently a very bizarre configuration, that was intended to instill a sense of awe and wonder in its beholder. From the earliest times, the Egyptians living in relative safety along the fertile black banks of the River Nile, perceived the vast deserts flanking them as forbidding places.

 These hot, chaotic lands were peopled by hostile outsiders and home to menacing animals, lions, leopards, snakes, scorpions and so on, but even more frightening, they were the haunt of spirits and monsters. While the latter were obviously never actually seen, the stories and idle chatter of brave desert travellers, among others, who swore that they had caught fleeting glimpses of them out in the wilderness at dusk or had come across their puzzling tracks, was likely to have made monsters fertile ground for exciting talk (the stuff of myths) among the average Egyptian. Also, they might even have known their respective names and supernatural powers. They consequently became real enough in the Egyptian mind, and yet another good reason to dread entering the blazing deserts. In some ways, they may not have been unlike their contemporary descendants, many of whom maintain a steadfast aversion to the immense desert expanses of their country, for these near waste lands have, for thousands of years, been traditionally linked with the unfamiliar and death.

Leonine Bes, companion of Hathor and protector of women.

Griffins and serpopards

In the present state of our knowledge, monsters made their Egyptian début on a select number of monumental or votive slate cosmetic palettes, a gold-handled flint knife and few carved ivory objects, all with low relief decoration on them, which date from about Naqada III (or dynasty 0), approximately 5000 years ago.

 Among the first and finest of these fascinating objects is the so-called ‘Two Dog Palette’, found at Hierakonpolis (Kom el-Ahmar) in Upper Egypt, and is now housed in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Carved on either side of this shield-shaped palette is a mêlée of true and strange desert dwelling animals, which are in the midst of intense conflict, and is bordered by two large heraldic cape hunting dogs.

 Amid this jumbled mixture of wild beasts, one can readily recognize three serpopards, serpentnecked felines, and a winged griffin, which has the head of a falcon (?) and a body of a lion. These hybrid creatures are engaged in attacking their prey, while two of the serpopards, encircling the raised rim of the grinding area, appear to be licking (the flowing blood?) from the body of a dead antelope before devouring it, which lies directly below an ostrich.

 In addition, notice the enigmatic figure of a walking jackal playing a flute or, possibly, a huntsman wearing a jackal’s head and tail. He may be involved in some sort of ritual hunting magic. While the significance of the imagery present on this élite object has been the subject of considerably diverse and clever interpretations by Egyptologists since its discovery, it would be hazardous to make an attempt at evaluating its full meaning here. What does seem comparatively clear, however, is that within the symmetrically sculpted rampant cape hunting dogs, the ‘Two Dog Palette’ presents to its viewer a confusion of combative figures, thus revealing a horrid vision of the disorder and terrors which lie outside the confines of the security in the Nile Valley.

 Symbols of unification

 The central section of the relief decoration on a side of the justly famous ‘Narmer Palette’, also discovered at Hierakonpolis, and now in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo, is composed of a pair of serpopards with extremely long necks which are intertwined, and whose heads are turned to confront each other. Their necks also form the circular area where the prized eye-paint, malachite or galena, would have been prepared, if this were an actual functional palette. These fictitious marvels are being restrained on leashes by two male handlers.

 According to several leading scholars who specialize in the study of the first Egyptians, this motif is likely to symbolize the early unification of Upper and Lower Egypt. As such, it might be a forerunner of when, at a later date, the two emblematic plants of the respective kingdoms were similarly interwoven.

 Up to this point, the mythical monsters we have examined were not of Egyptian origin, but were unmistakably borrowings from Mesopotamian iconography. Precisely how these were transmitted to Egypt remains a question to be satisfactorily answered, whether it was through direct or second hand means. With the rise of the Old Kingdom, fabulous beasts all but vanished from the Egyptian artistic repertoire, to be reborn in far greater numbers and varieties during the Middle Kingdom. Only a relative handful of exceptions to the above are known. First, was the appearance of a griffin exhibited in the wild on a fragment from the encyclopaedic natural history scenes of the ‘Chamber of the Seasons’ in the dynasty V solar temple of Niuserre at Abu Ghurab. Secondly, the griffin became assimilated as a symbol of Egyptian kingly power and is known from its occasional appearance on royal monuments. Thirdly, the hieroglyphic emblem of the city of Cusae (modern El-Kûsiyah), for reasons which remain imperfectly understood, was symbolized by a pair of serpopards, placed back-to-back, and their necks held by a man standing on top of them. This hieroglyph was utilized in inscriptions found in the decorated rock-cut tombs at the site of Meir, in Middle Egypt. Fourth, was the frequent representation of a definitely indigenous Egyptian monstrosity, the beast associated with typhonic god Seth, a composite of two or more animals, and of whom we will have more to say.

Still enigmatic: the undoubtedly indigenous and monstrous form of Seth, or Sutekh.

 A highly important group of mythical monsters is discernible in a wall-painting in the dynasty XI tomb of the nomarch Baket III (BH 15) at Beni Hasan in Middle Egypt. This grand tomb-chapel is also well-known for its carefully observed collection of birds and bats. In an extensive composition illustrating the tomb-owners’ huntsmen with bow and arrow in the desert, there appears a file of four fancied animals, intermixed with the naturally occurring fauna. Although these curiosities do not appear to be the subject of the chase, the artist has still labelled each of them with their names, as he did with most of the game. These include the dog-like animal of the god Seth, whose zoological identity cannot be ascertained, which has been depicted with its characteristic erect, arrow-like tail and squaretipped ears, but not with its usual curved snout.

 Next, come our old familiar friends the griffin and a serpopard. Lastly, there is what is likely to be an outlandish elephant, or so it is called in the caption above it; nevertheless, the single horn protruding from its head is reminiscent of a rhinoceros (but not of a unicorn). While in the dynasty XII tomb of Khnumhotep II (BH 3), at the same site, in a similar desert hunting scene, there is another exotic monster. This one closely resembles the mixture of a cheetah and a griffin, but surprisingly, has a human head sprouting between its outstretched wings. We will encounter this oddity again on ‘magic wands’ of the same age (see below).

 Perhaps stranger still, again at Beni Hasan, is a garishly painted female griffin with closed wings, wearing a collar and held on a leash in the dynasty XI tomb of Khety (BH 17). Since this griffin appears nearby the tombowner, it was undoubtedly intended to be regarded as a weird pet of Khety’s. The distinguished British Egyptologist, Norman de Garis Davies, who spent some time working in these tombs during the early 1930’s, plausibly suggested that it might, in fact, be a domestic dog, disguised to liken it with this ferocious mythical beast, or that the artist may have intended it to be some sort of a joke. A number of other griffins are also discernable in the decorative program of the Middle Kingdom rock-cut tombchapels at the nearby site of Deir el-Bersha. In one instance, this legendary creation can be seen ambling along in a desert landscape, following a troop of four pet(?) monkeys. If these primates are really tame pets, which seems to be the case, there is also a reasonable possibility that this griffin was also yet another common household dog in full masquerade. One can only then imagine the discomfort these dogs had to endure wearing such elaborate getups, and to what purpose could this serve? Merely a jest or rather in some way a prestigious possession of these nomarchs’, which would follow them into the next world?

 Magic wands

 Certainly one of the richest sources for the fraternization of the real and fabled in Egyptian iconography derives from a sizable group of objects usually called ‘magic wands’ or ‘magic knives’ also of Middle Kingdom date. Fashioned of strips cut from the curved tusk (tooth) of a hippopotamus, they are about 15 or 16 inches in length, and when carefully made, can display a bestiary of apotropaic creatures, both benevolent and malignant, and a variety of potent symbols engraved upon them. They are also frequently accompanied by short texts invoking ‘protection’.

 These figures could be magically summoned by reciting certain spells and were utilized to ensure the safety of the nursery or a pregnant woman’s bedroom from harm, especially the venomous bites of snakes and the stings of scorpions, which could easily carry off a newborn or expectant mother.

 When placed in burials, these devices apparently could also offer similar protection to their deceased owners. In addition to the now familiar cast of imaginary beasts we have been introduced to, new monstrous characters make their appearance on these wands.

 Among the most important, is the lion-man, which later becomes the grotesque dwarf-god Bes, but who, at the same time, is a bit comical looking, and was routinely represented full- faced. Then there is the hippopotamus that stands upright on its hind legs with a long Nile crocodile fused to her back, both dangerous denizens of Nile waters, which later develops into the goddess Taweret.

 Both Bes and Taweret become extremely popular in the New Kingdom as magical protectors of the home and family. Their images routinely appear on objects of household everyday use, such as beds, chairs, headrests, toilet articles, and like items.

 During the New Kingdom, representations of the mighty griffin become considerably more numerous. As an artistic emblem for the display of royal power, as with the sphinx, the king sometimes assumed the appearance of a huge terrifying griffin, and is rendered trampling underfoot the traditional enemies of the country. The form of this beast also gradually underwent a change, becoming more gracile, appearing like a sleek canine, and the head and bill come to resemble those of a large vulture or an eagle, rather than a falcon.

 Beginning in the late New Kingdom, griffins can be seen on magical statues and stelae pulling at breakneck speed the chariot of the youthful god Shed, who shoots his unerring arrows at an assortment of typhonic creatures, thereby helping to bring safety to their owners.

 Hazards and bravery

 While not precisely fitting our definition of a monster, there is a painting in a New Kingdom tomb-chapel which deserves our attention, owing to its uniqueness. In the dynasty XVIII tomb of a military officer under Tuthmosis III named Amenemhab (TT 85) at Thebes, a remarkable scene in a prominent position, features the tomb-owner, with a stick and spear in hand, ready to do mortal combat with an angry female striped hyena of unearthly size, on what appears to be a foreign desert landscape.

 While it is a living species, one that was well-known in Egypt, its abnormally large size surely indicates that the artist was striving to achieve an aberrant and hideous portrait. A brave fellow Amenemhab must have been, having to confront such a threatening creation for all time.

 The path of the departed to everlasting bliss in the beyond was a hazardous journey; the underworld was replete with a whole host of evil demons, such as the knife-wielding ones that guarded the various gates to Osiris’s ‘Hall of Justice’. Once having safely arrived there, the deceased’s heart was then weighed on a scale against a feather, overseen by the god Anubis, as shown in the wellknown vignette which accompanies Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead. Those hapless individuals judged unworthy of entering paradise were immediately delivered to the monster Ammit, whose body was assembled from parts of the Nile crocodile, lion, and hippopotamus.

 It devoured all who had been condemned by the outcome of the balance. This horrible hybrid may have been the most successful attempt at creating the profoundly monstrous. Its scary appearance aside, it was feared by all, no matter what social station, as this fiend put to a final end one’s chances of ever achieving eternal life, the hope and desire of all ancient Egyptians.

 In the Graeco-Roman Period, there was something of renewed interest in monstrous beings. There is a tale preserved in demotic literature called Inaros and the Griffin, which includes a description of a battle against a gigantic griffin from the Red Sea. This is also manifested in the execution of hieroglyphs and occasionally in compositions carved on temple walls. For the modern visitor to Egypt, this is quickly noticeable, for example, in certain inscriptions and areas of the ceiling decoration appearing on the temple of Esna in Upper Egypt. The imagination is allowed to run free, and its outcome are some rather grotesque composite figures.

AE

 Patrick F. Houlihan is a graduate of the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor and California State University, Sacramento. He has written scholarly and popular articles on Egyptological topics for many journals and encyclopaedias. His books include: The Birds of Ancient Egypt, The Animal World of the Pharaohs, and most recently Wit and Humour in Ancient Egypt (2001). His articles ‘Comic Relief in Ancient Egyptian Art.’ appeared in Ancient Egypt Volume 2 no. 5 (2002); ‘Bird Life Along the Ancient Nile.’ Part 1 and 2 in Ancient Egypt Volume 3 Issue 1 and 2 (2002). Patrick Houlihan is American correspondent for AE magazine.

 Further Reading Altenmüller, Hartwig., ‘Fabeltiere.’ Lexikon der Ägyptologie. Vol. 2. ed. by W. Helck, E. Otto and W. Westendorf. (Wiesbaden, 1977), cols. 74-77; Fischer, Henry G., ‘A Fragment of Late Predynastic Egyptian Relief from the Eastern Delta.’ Artibus Asiae 21 (1958), pp. 64- 88; Fischer, Henry G., ‘Ungeheuer.’ Lexikon der Ägyptologie. Vol. 6. ed. by W. Helck, E. Otto and W. Westendorf. (Wiesbaden, 1986), cols. 848-851; Fischer, Henry G., ‘The Ancient Egyptian Attitude Towards the Monstrous.’ Monsters and Demons in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds. Papers Presented in Honor of Edith Porada. ed. by A.E. Farkas et al. (Mainz, 1987), pp. 13-26; Keimer, Ludwig., ‘L’horreur des égyptiens pour les démons du désert.’ Bulletin de l’Institut d’Égypte 26 (1944), pp. 135-147; Meeks, Dimitri., ‘Demons.’ and ‘Fantastic Animals.’ The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt. Vol. 1. ed. by D. B. Redford. (Oxford and New York, 2001), pp. 375-378 and 504-507; Pittman, Holly., ‘Constructing Context: The Gebel el-Arak Knife. Greater Mesopotamian and Egyptian Interaction in the Late Fourth Millennium B.C.E.’ The Study of the Ancient Near East in the Twenty-First Century. ed. by J. S. Cooper and G. M. Schwartz. (Winona Lake, 1996), pp. 9-32.

 Acknowledgments and Sources of the Figures

 I’m grateful to the institutions and individuals named below for kindly providing me with illustrations and generously granting permission to publish them. I must, once again, extend thanks to The Wilbour Library of Egyptology, for helping me obtain several journal articles needed to write this feature. Images page 14 and 15, inset, are reproduced from K.M. Cialowicz, Les palettes égyptiennes aux motifs zoomorphes et sans décoration (Kraków, 1991) pp. 47 and 53. By courtesy of the author. Image page 16 is reproduced from J.E. Quibell, Archaic Objects. (Catalogue général des antiquités égyptiennes du Musée du Caire) Vol. 2 (Cairo, 1905) p. 237. Image page 17, upper, is reproduced from J. Baines, Archéo-Nil 3 (1993) pp. 60-61. By courtesy of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Image page 17, lower, is by courtesy of the Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Images on page 18 (upper), page 21 upper left and lower, page 19 lower right are by Patrick Francis Houlihan. Images page 18 (lower left) and 19 (lower left) are reproduced from N. de Garis Davies, The Egyptian Expedition 1931-1932: Part 2 of the Bulletin of The Metropolitan Museum of Art 28 (1933) p. 27. By courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Image page 19 upper is a copy reproduced from I. Rosellini, I monumenti dell’ Egitto e della Nubia. Monumenti civili. Atlas (Pisa, 1834) pl. 23. Image page 20 below is a facsimile by N. de Garis Davies. By courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (33.8.14—Rogers Fund, 1933). Image page 20, wand (centre) is by courtesy of the British Museum, London. Image page 20, wand (above ) is by courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (30.8.218—Theodore M. Davis Collection Bequest of Theodore M. Davis, 1915). Image page 20, wand, lower, both views, is courtesy of the Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Brussels. Image page 21, upper right is a facsimile reproduced from N.M. Davies and A.H. Gardiner, Tutankhamun’s Painted Box (Oxford, 1962) pl. 5. By courtesy of the Griffith Institute, Oxford. Main image, page 15, is a facsimile reproduced from E.A. Wallis Budge, Facsimile of the Papyrus of Ani in the British Museum 2nd ed. (London, 1894) pl. 3.

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