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Why the Ancient Egyptians WEREN'T ancient
Ancient Egypt: the big questions (podcast series)
Egyptologist Campbell Price charts the story of the ancient Egyptian civilisation
You’re probably familiar with the idea of godly pharaohs, menacing mummies and their deadly curses. But how much do you actually know about the fundamental facts of ancient Egyptian civilisation? In this first episode of our new series Ancient Egypt: the big questions, Emily Briffett is joined by curator and Egyptologist Campbell Price to chart ancient Egypt’s rise and fall – getting to grips with the where, when and why of one of history’s most fascinating cultures. Watch or listen to the ad-free podcast below: View Green Video on the source website Campbell Price is the co-author of Totally Chaotic History: Ancient Egypt Gets Unruly! (Walker Books, 2024) and the author of the upcoming Brief Histories: Ancient Egypt (Seven Dials, 2024). Order now on Amazon
On the steps of a sacred temple, Cleopatra's feud with her sister came to a blood-soaked end
Cleopatra persuaded Mark Antony to order the execution of her sister Arsinoe IV on the steps of one of antiquity’s greatest temples, breaking the sacred law of sanctuary and leaving behind a mystery that still unsettles historians today
At the peak of its glory, the Temple of Artemis towered above the ancient city of Ephesus standing as a vast sanctuary of marble and gold that drew pilgrims from across the Mediterranean. Counted among the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, it was famed not only for its size and splendour but also for its role as a place of inviolable refuge. Today, the site in modern-day Turkey is hauntingly empty. “People go to Ephesus today and there is pretty much just a single column that’s left standing,” says historian Bettany Hughes, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “It’s a bit marshy, it feels a little bit neglected. But what you are looking down on is just the inner sanctuary of this extraordinary temple.” Earthquakes and centuries of decay might have reduced it to crumbled ruins, but in the 1st century BC, the temple was one of the most sacred places in the ancient world – which makes what happened there to Cleopatra’s younger sister, Arsinoe IV, all the more extraordinary. Cleopatra and Arsinoe: a dynasty built on blood The Ptolemaic dynasty, which ruled Egypt from the death of Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC until Cleopatra’s own fall in 30 BC, was notorious for its brutality. Brothers and sisters often married each other in imitation of the ancient pharaohs of a bygone era. But such intimacy didn’t prevent family members from murdering, exiling or poisoning one another to secure power. Read more | The face of Cleopatra: what did she look like, and was she really so beautiful? The Ptolemaic dynasty was infamous for turning siblings into rivals. Cleopatra herself had to fight her own brothers and sisters to secure the throne. Her younger brother Ptolemy XIII initially ruled alongside her, but the two soon fell into open conflict. In 48 BC, Julius Caesar arrived in Alexandria while pursuing his enemy Pompey during Rome’s civil war. Drawn into Egypt’s dynastic struggle, he chose to support Cleopatra’s claim. The city erupted into what became known as the Alexandrian War, a chaotic siege fought between Caesar’s troops, Cleopatra’s supporters, and Ptolemy XIII’s forces. During the fighting, Ptolemy was forced to flee after his defeat at the battle of the Nile and then drowned in the river. Afterward, Cleopatra ruled jointly with another brother, Ptolemy XIV, but he died only a few years later in suspicious circumstances, leaving her sole ruler. Caesar: Death of a Dictator Member exclusive | On the Ides of March 44 BC, the most famous Roman in history was murdered. Julius Caesar's assassination transformed Rome forever, and the image of his bloody toga has haunted monarchs and tyrants ever since. Listen to all episodes now Arsinoe IV: a sister turned rival Amid this conflict, Cleopatra’s younger sister Arsinoe IV emerged as another claimant. She had herself proclaimed queen in opposition to Cleopatra and, at one point, even commanded Egyptian troops against Caesar’s forces. For a brief time, she was celebrated in Alexandria as a symbol of resistance. When Caesar eventually brought the fighting under control and secured Cleopatra’s throne, Arsinoe was captured. Remarkably, he spared her life, sending her into exile at Ephesus instead of executing her – a decision that would later come back to haunt Cleopatra. Read more | Cleopatra, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony: how the last pharaoh's love affairs shaped Ancient Egypt's fate Nevertheless, by the 40s BC, Cleopatra’s position was secure thanks to her alliance with Mark Antony, one of the most powerful men in Rome. Arsinoe, however, remained a thorny problem. As long as she lived, Cleopatra’s opponents might use her as a political pawn. The goddess of Ephesus If Arsinoe hoped anywhere could protect her, it was the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. “The Artemis who was worshiped in Ephesus was an Eastern Artemis, a direct descendant of the great nature goddesses of the eastern world. As soon as you see an image [of her] you realize just how feisty she is,” Hughes explains. Unlike the Greek huntress Artemis or the Roman Diana, the Ephesian goddess was depicted as a motherly figure, associated with fertility and protection. Her sanctuary had a long tradition of offering asylum. Read more | The gods and their whims: your guide to ancient Greek religion “People go to the Temple of Artemis to seek sanctuary,” say Hughes, who adds that this included some famous names. “Some of the murderers of Julius Caesar, and during the great Persian wars at the time of the Classical Greeks, the children of Xerxes are taken there and are hidden in the temple,” Hughes notes. The temple itself was immense – four times the size of the Parthenon in Athens – and its right of asylum was respected across the Mediterranean. For Arsinoe, it seemed the one place even Cleopatra could not touch her. “Arsinoe knows that the goddess offers people sanctuary, particularly women,” says Hughes. “So Arsinoe IV thinks … where in the world can I go where I’ll be safe? I’ll go to the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/09/GettyImages-463964119-dba4381-e1756985966853.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This 1930s illustration recreates the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Located in modern-day Turkey, the temple was famed for its grand scale and ornate design before its destruction in antiquity." title="The Temple of Artemis, Ephesus, Turkey, 1933-1934." /> Murder on the temple steps At first, Arsinoe’s gamble worked. She was granted sanctuary, her life formally protected by Artemis. But Cleopatra was determined. “Arsinoe is given sanctuary in the temple, but even the great Goddess Artemis is not a match for Cleopatra,” say Hughes. “We don’t know exactly what happened. We don’t know whether she threatened somebody or bribed them, but somehow Arsinoe is pulled out of the temple and murdered on the temple steps on the order of Cleopatra,” Hughes explains. The act was shocking not just for its violence but for its setting. To kill on the steps of the Temple of Artemis was to trample one of the most sacred laws of the ancient Mediterranean. Why it shocked the ancient world For centuries, sanctuary at Ephesus had been respected. Even violent criminals and defeated kings could claim the goddess’s protection. To drag Arsinoe out of the temple and execute her was unprecedented. “It was a sanctuary, but not if you’re up against a character who does not like ‘no’ for an answer like Cleopatra,” Hughes remarks. The exact details remain mysterious. Did Antony’s soldiers storm the temple? Were the priests bribed or threatened? Did local officials collude in favour of Cleopatra? The sources are unclear. All that is clear is that Arsinoe was pulled from the temple and murdered on its steps – and that the outrage echoed across the ancient world. The ancient politics of murder Why take such a risk? For Cleopatra, the answer was survival. With Antony at her side, she had to secure Egypt’s throne and prevent any rival claimant from undermining her. Arsinoe’s very existence threatened that. Unlike Cleopatra, whose dramatic suicide in 30 BC ended the Ptolemaic dynasty, Arsinoe slipped into history as both victim and symbol. Later writers cast her as the innocent sister destroyed by Cleopatra’s ambition. In modern culture, she often appears as Cleopatra’s tragic foil. Read more | The legacy of Cleopatra Archaeology has even revived her story. In the early 20th century, a tomb in Ephesus was claimed by some to be Arsinoe’s final resting place, though this remains disputed. The murder of Arsinoe IV on the steps of the Temple of Artemis remains an infamous episode from antiquity. Today, only a single column rises above the marshy ground where the temple once stood. But that belies the centuries of incredible stories that the structure played host and witness to. This article is based on an interview with Bettay Hughes, speaking to Rachel Dinning on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Paint your own pot, like an ancient Etruscan
Silence your inner critic and forget about perfectionism. That's the life lesson we should learn from the Etruscans and their artistic habits, Dr Lucy Shipley tells Dr David Musgrove
There’s a place I used to go to with my children where you could unleash your creative zing by painting a pot. You picked your pot, you painted your pot, and then they fired it for you and you came back and retrieved your handiwork a few days later. I’m no artist, so my pot designs were always distinctly average. But I enjoyed it, and so did my kids, and in that, we were unwittingly drawing on the mindset of the ancient Etruscans. Dr Lucy Shipley is an expert on this overlooked people, and her life lesson that we should draw from them is simple: paint your own pot. The overlooked Etruscans Before we go into that, let’s have a quick recap of who the Etruscans were. They are the people who lived in parts of what is now Italy, particularly in Tuscany and Umbria, in the period before the rise of ancient Rome, in the first millennium BC. They were neighbours and rivals of the Romans and the Greeks. They lived in cities spread across the region, and from their ports they traded widely across the Mediterranean. The Etruscans pop up in ancient sources quite often, but we only ever have accounts of them from an outside perspective, because their own texts do not survive beyond short inscriptions and one religious text. We have to rely on those accounts, along with archaeology, to get to grips with who they were and how they lived. Most of their cities are hard to excavate as they sit under modern settlements, but new excavations are revealing more of their world. Read more | The history of Florence: Italy's Renaissance powerhouse Etruscan tombs also provide a fascinating insight into Etruscan culture, and some feature remarkable wall paintings. These paintings show scenes from everyday life, religion and myth, but also some graphic sexual acts, which has surprised modern eyes (I’ll come back to that). Though Etruria was eventually subsumed into the Roman empire in the fourth and third centuries BC, echoes of their culture persisted. According to Shipley, there is something about the ancient Etruscans that speaks of a people who weren’t afraid to make mistakes, nor who were intimidated by the people around them. They painted their own pots in an inimitable style, and that is something we can draw on today. Painters, potters and perfectionism Aside from the wall paintings, in Etruscan tombs archaeologists have found great quantities of red- and black-figure pottery (when the background is black and the details are left in the colour of the clay). This is the sort of material you’ll be familiar with if you’ve ever looked at ancient Greek vases in a museum. It was originally made in Greece, but inspired Etruscan potters to make their own versions. Some of it was good, but some of it was, well, I’ll leave it to Shipley’s assessment: “They are churning these things out. There is a market for these things, but some of them are terrible. I try not to have value judgments about artefacts, but some of this material looks like somebody has made it with an atrocious red-wine hangover.” There is one particular example that Shipley highlights, of a red-figure vase with a depiction of a hippocamp, or sea beast, which you would have to be very generous to describe as well-executed. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/07/KC773G-e03f9e9.jpg" width="2850" height="3800" alt="A black terracotta pot with two large handles (one on each side) sits on a white column, against a grey background. On the pot, there is an orange drawing of a dragon" title="It would be hard to describe this sea dragon, painted on a fourth-century BC terracotta drinking cup, as well-executed, suggests Shipley (Image by Alamy)" /> “I love Etruscan archaeology. I’m really passionate about it, but even I am almost laughing at some of this Etruscan red-figure material. Yet it seems they were perfectly happy with it. It’s just that way of being able to express yourself. Do what you’re going to do – you paint that bad dragon. “Sometimes the human forms are a bit blobby. They’re not as neat and precise as the ones that you see imported from Greece, but that’s okay. Someone was very happy with that, and I think that’s a really important lesson. I’m a bit of a perfectionist. But sometimes it’s time to tell your internal critic to shut up and accept that actually what you’ve done is totally fine.” WATCH | Dr Lucy Shipley on letting go of perfectionism View Green Video on the source website Everyone’s an artist That’s a good sentiment, but can we really read that broader sense of a cultural carefree spirit among the Etruscans from some sub-par pottery? According to Shipley, there’s ample evidence of this mindset when you look for it. She recalls an archaeological site that she worked at just outside Siena. “Back when Poggio Civitate was a flourishing Etruscan site, this was home to one of the largest buildings of the ancient world, and it was a craft centre. It burnt down in an accidental fire. You can see that people just literally dropped what they were working on and got out before the flames came. “The result is that you have incredible preservation of the material they were working on. Some of it’s really beautiful, high-quality carving, and terracotta tiles and all sorts of other things. And some of it is really not so much. There’s a whole spectrum of what people were working on, all these different individuals working together in this place. “Everybody’s doing their best and that’s enough. After that fire, they rebuild in an adjacent area. They build this incredible complex, which has terracotta statues on the roof. If you are looking at, say, the Parthenon marbles, you are going to think that these architectural terracottas are a little bit rustic. They’re quite big and chunky and they don’t have that ‘classical refinement’. But they’re so alive and they’re really enchanting – the famous one is a cowboy figure with a huge hat, and he’s seated on a throne on the roof.” Standing out from the crowd Shipley sees similar confidence in Etruscan tomb painting, which some early art historians have described as quite coarse, but which she sees as being alive and full of natural detail. From all this, we can perhaps take the ‘paint your pot’ idea a little further and infer that these people in ancient Etruria were not only content to produce work on their own terms and to their own standards, but also happy to stand out from the crowd, be a little different, and not be worried about unfavourable comparisons with other people, or indeed other cultures. Shipley adds that while Etruscan depictions of Greek myths are often described as being wrong, they’re not – they’re just an Etruscan version and absolutely right to the person telling that story. Read more | Meet the people the ancient Romans and Greeks desperately tried to hide “I'm going to stick my neck out here,” says Shipley, “and this could be my bias because I’m enchanted by the Etruscans, but I think if we look at their actions, we can see that these are confident, capable people who are absolutely viewing themselves as equal with the Greek people that they’re trading with and other trading partners.” So, in Shipley’s assessment, the Etruscans were a people comfortable in their own skins, not overawed by others, and content with creating the things they wanted to create. That sounds like a good place to be – you might express those sorts of characteristics if you were trying to describe a positive, resilient outlook today. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/07/B21ANR-2f8a341.jpg" width="5291" height="3514" alt="A painted sarcophagus shows a woman dressed in a white gown and headscarf, reclining on her left side, holding something in her hand, while the other hand holds her scarf back from her face" title="A painted terracotta sarcophagus, 150–130 BC, of an Etruscan noblewoman, Seianti Hanunia Tienasa, was found in Poggio Cantarello near Chiusi in Italy (Image by Alamy)" /> There’s one more example that typifies this sentiment. It’s a funeral urn from Chiusi, which you can see in the British Museum today, and it shows the woman whose skeleton is buried in the tomb beneath. “She is represented in a very realistic way. Her face is quite youthful, and they’ve done analysis on her skeleton, so we know she died in her early fifties, but she’s not an idealised form. They’ve done facial reconstruction of her, and it’s recognisably her,” says Shipley. “She’s happy to be depicted in the afterlife as yes, her best self, but as herself. So there’s that idea of being yourself – and unashamedly yourself. And also of not being intimidated by what other people are doing elsewhere and continuing to do the things that have been valuable to your community for a really long time. It’s all wrapped up in that one artefact.” We shouldn’t be rose-tinted about Etruscan society. It wasn’t some utopian land of creative free choice for all its people. As Shipley admits, not everyone would have been able to model this sort of confident, empowered life. “Etruscan society seems to be highly stratified, with people very much divided by access to wealth and luxury goods. While women seem to have had more independence and recognition than in Greece or Rome, this is a long way from being an egalitarian society, and we can’t assume everyone had equality of opportunity or the chance to make their own choices.” But from those who held agency, we can take some life lessons today: “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Enjoy being yourself, painting your own pot in whatever milieu you are doing it and just own it. Be proud of what you can do rather than constantly comparing yourself to somebody else.” Sex, death and the meaning of life I love the fact that Shipley’s interpretation casts us back into the minds of these people so vividly, and I definitely subscribe to the pragmatism over perfectionism approach to life. But what about sex? We can’t leave the Etruscans without seeing if they can help us with our sex lives. Let’s go back to those sexy tomb paintings that I mentioned at the start of this essay, which to modern viewers, can be disarming: “It’s quite shocking to walk into a tomb and see an image of a threesome on the wall. You’re not necessarily expecting that”. What’s going on here? Why were graphic sexual scenes painted on the walls of tombs? It’s been much discussed, but Shipley’s view is that it could be reflecting the generational long-view of the rich and important families that were entombed. Sex leads to children, and thus the continuance of the family line, and the passing down of power and wealth. On that basis, why wouldn’t you want to show your legacy literally being ensured through sexual acts in your place of eternal rest? Read more | Are you healthier than a Roman? These ancient secrets for longevity are still shockingly relevant They’ve been interpreted as great sexual libertines because of these graphic paintings on their tombs and their vases, but that’s not necessarily the case if you follow Shipley’s argument. I don’t think I’m going to convince anyone to start adding pornography to their gravestones now, but I think we can assume that the Etruscans were comfortable with sex and sexuality, and also placed great value on it. We tend to be pretty buttoned-up about talking about sex, and about death, in western culture today, so maybe there’s something else we can draw from them too. To conclude, let’s step back from sex and death, and review Dr Shipley’s wider lessons from the ancient Etruscans: be your authentic self, take risks, don’t be afraid of making mistakes, and don’t let perfectionism stop you from getting things done. As I read them back, I could be chanting the mantra of a modern business, facing up to the hurtling head-rush of the 21st century. Those are the same sentiments that we need today to cope with a world that’s changing before our very eyes. Maybe the people of the Italian peninsula in the first millennium BC felt the same sort of pressures, and maybe we can take a bit of solace and guidance from that. Paint your own pots, people, paint your own pots. This article is part of HistoryExtra's new Life Lessons from History Substack newsletter. Subscribe to the newsletter for more articles and podcasts exploring the ways in which history can help us live better, happier, healthier or more productive lives.
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Drink, dance, death: wine in ancient Egypt
Islam Issa explores the cultural significance of this alcoholic beverage to the long-standing ancient superpower
From merriment to mummification, new year revelries to funerary rites, wine played a key role in ancient Egyptian culture. Islam Issa speaks to Matt Elton about why the alcoholic drink was so important – and how it inspired everything from a wine vending machine to the Festival of Drunkenness.
From excess soil to resurrection: the many ways Egyptians used wine
To the ancient Egyptians, wine played a pivotal part in mythology, ritual and the natural processes that enabled their survival. Islam Issa explores six key roles it fulfilled in their society over the millennia
Fermenting change Today we associate it with relaxation and refinement, ritual and religion, even industry and investment. And the varied uses of wine are nothing new. After grapes arrived in Egypt, over 5,000 years ago, wine made major, lasting – and often surprising – impacts on its society and culture. The earliest vineyard remains in Egypt date from the fourth millennium BC. The oldest wine jar yet discovered was made c3000 BC – and jars continue to be found. Following the introduction of grape cultivation from the Levant sometime before 3000 BC, grapes became the main ingredient fermented to make irep (wine), which was typically red. For lengthy periods, wine made from the fruit (dates) or sap of palm trees was more affordable, and other fruits such as figs and pomegranates were also fermented with sugar to make wine. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/05/BAL501122cmyk-16147f1.jpg" width="3420" height="2278" alt="To the left of the image, 5 people are harvesting grapes from the vine, while another person appears on the right, bending over a well" title="Grape harvesting is shown in a tomb painting in Thebes dating from at least the 14th century BC – perhaps two millennia after vines were first cultivated in Egypt" /> Wine was both a staple and a valuable commodity to be bought and sold. Vineyards were largely owned by nobles who could also enjoy wine on an everyday basis, while ordinary people typically drank it only during festivals, or might receive it as a work bonus. Scenes of the grape harvest appear in several tombs, the earliest from the Old Kingdom in the third millennium BC. Some tomb depictions show the whole winemaking process from harvesting, treading and pressing to fermentation. In these illustrations, wine is most often presented in a small round cup. Read more | Life in Ancient Egypt: what was it like? Over time, Egyptian wine began to be exported, particularly after Alexandria, founded in the fourth century BC by Alexander the Great, became a global trading hub. Recently discovered wine amphorae – bottles with two small looped handles – demonstrate that wine from around Lake Mareotis (or Mariout), lying immediately south of Alexandria, reached destinations on the Strait of Sicily and as far as the coast of what’s now southern France near Marseille. Several classical writers, including the Roman poets Horace and Virgil, mentioned Mareotic wine; the Greek writer Athenaeus described it as “pleasant [and] fragrant”. Cleopatra is said to have carried Mareotic wine on her fleet. God of wine Wine wasn’t just a pleasant drink in ancient Egypt – it was linked to significant episodes in foundational mythology. In a pivotal tale, green-faced Osiris (below) – one of the most significant gods in the ancient Egyptian pantheon – was murdered by his jealous brother, Set, who locked him in a coffin and threw it into the Nile. Osiris’s blood infused the river with rich minerals, and caused the annual flooding that underpins the Egyptian soil’s fertility – an event that, to the ancient population, was nothing short of divine. According to Greek and Roman historians, excess soil washed into the Nile turned the river a reddish colour. In the ancient myth, though, it was Osiris’s blood that was not only turning the waters red but also irrigating and nourishing crops. In the story, Osiris’s remains were found by his wife, Isis, who carefully put his body parts back together. He returned to life, and impregnated her with the god Horus. Naturally, Osiris’s death and resurrection led him to become associated with rejuvenation, paralleling the cycle of the land from one harvest to the next – including the renewing grapevine. In the Temple of Edfu, built 237–57 BC on the site of an earlier monument between Luxor and Aswan, one inscription reveals how the local “vineyard flourishes” when the “inundation” of the Nile takes place and the land “bears fruit with more grapes than [the sand of] the riverbanks”. Because wine production depended on the annual flooding, Osiris became closely connected with the drink – especially red wine, which closely resembles soil and blood. In the Pyramid Texts – the oldest funerary texts, dating to the third millennium BC – Osiris, earlier venerated as the god of agriculture and resurrection, is described as the “lord of wine in flood”. He was regarded by Egyptians as the originator and teacher of viticulture and winemaking. Drunken deities Considered the blood of the gods, red wine was a common offering in temples. Osiris, in particular, was honoured through annual offerings of grain and wine. Because red wine wasn’t always affordable, barley wine (essentially a kind of beer) was often substituted. In everyday life, Egyptians referred to wine as the ‘eye of Horus’, the divine child of Osiris and Isis. One ritual involved pouring wine into a depression on the temple altar, also called the Eye of Horus – a reference to the injury he sustained during the battle with his uncle Set, god of violence. In that episode, Horus’s eye lost its blood, so filling the altar depression with wine represented rejuvenation. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/05/GettyImages-815688130cmyk-5f2f18c.jpg" width="3543" height="2360" alt="Lion-headed warrior deity Sekhmet (left), depicted on an Egyptian jewel. A Festival of Drunkenness recalled the myth in which other gods quelled Sekhmet’s violence with wine (Image by Getty Images)" title="Lion-headed warrior deity Sekhmet (left), depicted on an Egyptian jewel. A Festival of Drunkenness recalled the myth in which other gods quelled Sekhmet’s violence with wine" /> In another myth, when the rule of sun god Ra was coming to an end, he sent his daughter Hathor – in the form of Sekhmet, a lion-headed warrior – to destroy the mortals who’d conspired against him. Sekhmet got carried away, and looked set to destroy all of humanity, so Ra and the other gods devised a strategy to stop her. They poured red-dyed beer, or wine, to create lakes throughout the land. Believing that these pools were filled with blood, Sekhmet quaffed them, became intoxicated and fell asleep. In another version of the tale, her wrath was quelled using the power of music, dance and wine. Recalling this story, at a new year Festival of Drunkenness people celebrated and re-enacted the god’s plan that saved humanity, while also being sure to appease the wrathful goddess. Other deities were honoured with wine, not least Shesmu, god of the wine press. Texts from the third millennium BC record a feast during which grapes were pressed as the people sang that god’s name. Because red wine looked similar to blood, Shesmu came to be associated with punishment for serious crimes. In coffin texts and one discovered papyrus, Shesmu fills his wine press not with grapes but with the heads of criminals, then squeezes them into agonising oblivion for their unforgivable sins. Pharaoh's finest In ancient Egyptian texts, the pharaoh is variously described as a “winegrower” and “brewer”, as well as the “cupbearer” to the gods. And around 400 scenes depicting wine offerings are found in temples from the Greco-Roman period, especially near wine-producing locations. These show pharaohs using wine to get closer to the gods and to bless the lands. For example, in the Temple of Dendera, on the Nile north of Luxor, an illustration alongside the inscription “good wine, I pour it on the ground” shows a cup being tilted downwards, its liquid flowing out in zigzags. And the Temple of Abydos to the west features a clear depiction of Pharaoh Seti I making an offering to Osiris. The grapevine – which grows fresh leaves and appears renewed each year – was an important item in funerary rituals, too, increasing a deceased person’s chances of resurrection. When a pharaoh was laid to rest, their tomb was filled with enough wine to take into the afterlife, either in real jars or in the form of wall paintings. Wine was placed in tombs as early as the fourth millennium BC – for example, in the resting place of Scorpion I (c3250 BC). Read more | Howard Carter's discovery of Tutankhamun: was the tomb really cursed? Among the 5,398 items found in the tomb of Tutankhamun were jars of wine inscribed with the winemaker’s name and the year of production, indicating a sophisticated wine culture. These included eight jars of the most exclusive variety, shedeh. Analysis of the residues in these vessels revealed that they’d contained both red and white wines. Some wines, oils and foods were stored in the annex but, notably, two wine jars were placed alongside Tutankhamun’s body in the burial chamber. The red wine was placed to the west of his remains, while the white wine was set to the east, suggesting that this placement was an essential part of the burial ritual and held huge symbolic value, representing regeneration and rebirth. Doctoring drinks Wine was an ingredient in medicinal recipes from the fourth millennium BC. Evidence from papyri reveals that its uses varied widely: in treating infections, as an anaesthetic, applied to wounds as an antiseptic, mixed with herbs to create a sedative. As Greek influence in Egypt increased, the theories of Hippocrates (c460–c375 BC) spread – including that wine was a useful cooling agent for fevers, and that it could be used to nourish the body, purge sadness and help urine flow. Wine jars retaining residues of herbs and balms have been discovered. Medicinal plants were added to create infused wines, or elixirs: fenugreek to treat fevers and indigestion, honey to make an antibiotic, mandrake as a narcotic and, under the instruction of a priest, opium as a sedative. Coriander-infused wine was consumed by women to ease menstrual pain. Wine was mixed with water to make cleansing vaginal douches, with myrrh sometimes added as an antiseptic. It was even used in a kind of pregnancy test referenced in a papyrus dating from 1550 BC, which explains how a doctor should mix a urine sample with wine. A reaction between the fermented liquid and the urine’s chemical compounds would indicate that a baby was on the way. Wine also became a key component of the embalming process, which was believed to guarantee a better afterlife. After most internal organs had been scooped out of a cadaver in preparation for mummification, it was cleansed thoroughly with a mixture of water and wine. The retained organs – stomach, intestines, liver and lungs – were also washed with wine ready for dehydration. This inhibited bacterial growth, slowing decomposition. Wine-powered wonders After the Ptolemies moved Egypt’s capital to Alexandria in the late fourth century BC, the state began organising grandiose festivals – demonstrations of power and wealth. These aimed to deter potential invaders and boosted the economy, with traders travelling to the city from far and wide during festival season. We have a fascinating first-hand account by Callixenus of Rhodes, who likely lived in the second or third century BC and whose original writing – now lost – was quoted by the Greek writer Athenaeus a few centuries later. He described a magnificent and highly choreographed festival featuring performances by sileni, the drunken followers of Dionysus, Greek god of wine. An incredible float pulled by 300 men carried a wine press measuring 11 by 7 metres, dispensing local wine to the cheering crowds. Such mechanical innovations were possible thanks to scholars at the city’s Great Library. Third-century BC inventor Ctesibius of Alexandria even devised singing statues. One of these, which depicted Arsinoë II (who co-ruled Egypt with her brother and husband Ptolemy II) as the goddess Aphrodite, played music as wine flowed out. He may also have created a hydraulic pump to transfer wine. Working in the first or second century AD, Heron (or Hero) of Alexandria produced more such innovations; his Pneumatica contained no fewer than 16 wine-related inventions. He created the first vending machine, which dispensed measured amounts of liquid when a coin was inserted, and a self-filling wine bowl. He also invented a vessel with multiple spouts that alternately poured water and wine, or a mixture. So in Alexandria, water could indeed be turned into wine. This article was first published in the May 2025 issue of BBC History Magazine
Cleopatra, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony: how the last pharaoh's love affairs shaped Ancient Egypt's fate
Cleopatra's relationships with Julius Caesar and Mark Antony had fundamental consequences for both Egypt and Rome...
Cleopatra was a daughter of Egypt – part of the Macedonian-Greek-Ptolemaic Dynasty that had ruled since the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BC. Queen of Egypt, Cyrene and Cyprus, she was renowned for her passionate nature, beauty, intellect and determination to advance the interests of the Ptolemaic legacy. They were masters of ancient Rome – powerful, ruthless military generals who had expanded the sphere of Roman influence, seizing power for themselves and seeking to add the vast Egyptian empire to Rome’s ever-expanding list of conquests. The relationships between Cleopatra VII, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony were love affairs, and power struggles, that would change the course of Egyptian and Roman history, forever. Cleopatra and Caesar: how did their love affairs begin? It was Cleopatra’s father, Ptolemy XII, who had effectively opened the door to the Romans. When Ptolemy XI was killed in 80 BC, his only male heirs were Ptolemy XII and his younger brother – the illegitimate sons of Ptolemy IX. Ptolemy XII was crowned in 76 BC but, soon after, the question of his legitimacy was raised in Rome, where anti-Senate politicians claimed to be in possession of a will, written by Ptolemy XI, that bequeathed Egypt to the Romans. Fearing the loss of the throne and an end to his dynasty, Ptolemy took a huge risk: he struck a deal with Rome. Read more | Your guide to the Roman Republic Desperate to retain his kingship, Ptolemy asked Caesar and Pompey to recognise him as Egypt’s legal ruler and a comrade and ally of Rome. This they did, for the price of 6,000 talents – an enormous amount, of which some was borrowed from Roman moneylenders. When Rome moved in on the Egyptian territory of Cyprus the following year, Ptolemy did nothing. The Egyptian people were outraged, and banished their Pharaoh, leaving his wife and eldest daughter to rule in his stead. Ptolemy XII: Cleopatra's father from hell The tragic fate of Cleopatra has long overshadowed her predecessor, Ptolemy XII. But, as Diana T Nikolova explains, it’s impossible to understand the daughter’s downfall without exploring the father’s hapless reign… <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/02/AKG339655-CMYK-9ee6c81.jpg" width="3364" height="2259" alt="The cleansing of King Ptolemy XII by the gods. (Photo by AKG Images) Relief, Ptolemaic period. Kom Ombo (Upper Egypt), shrine for two gods: Sobek and Haroeris, front hall." title="The cleansing of King Ptolemy XII by the gods. (Photo by AKG Images) Relief, Ptolemaic period. Kom Ombo (Upper Egypt), shrine for two gods: Sobek and Haroeris, front hall." /> Although Ptolemy was eventually restored to the throne, again with the help of the Roman Senate, the damage had been done. Egypt was weak, and Rome had its sights firmly set on conquest. To further compound matters, Ptolemy XII made the Roman Senate executor of his will (which proclaimed his eldest surviving daughter, Cleopatra, and eldest son co-regents), and his extensive bribery had left the realm in financial straits: Rome’s foothold in Egypt looked sure to extend. In 51 BC, 18-year-old Cleopatra emerged onto the political scene as co-regent of Egypt with her younger brother and (in true Egyptian royal tradition) husband, ten-year-old Ptolemy XIII. Like her father before her, Cleopatra sought absolute power in Egypt, and soon set about dropping her brother’s name from official documents. But, with Egypt facing economic failures, famine and crippling debt, Cleopatra realised she, too, needed the help of mighty Rome to lead Egypt back to peace and prosperity once more. Only this time, it would be on her terms. Cleopatra was not the only one harbouring a desire for sole control of Egypt. In 48 BC, encouraged by his court advisors, Ptolemy XIII banished Cleopatra from Alexandria and proclaimed himself sole ruler. The battle lines had been drawn between the sibling spouses and Cleopatra, alone and powerless, hatched a plan to gain the ear of Caesar, who was merrily celebrating victory over his one-time comrade Pompey, at the battle of Pharsalus. As luck would have it, Caesar and his troops were already in Alexandria (he was in pursuit of his adversary Pompey who, having been defeated, was hoping for assistance from Ptolemy XIII). All Cleopatra had to do was enter Alexandria unseen and talk to Caesar before he reached his own agreement with her brother. It was an idea easier said than done. Fully prepared to seduce Caesar in order to enlist his help, Cleopatra planned to smuggle herself into Alexandria and inside the royal palace, where Caesar was staying as her brother’s honoured guest. Greek historian Plutarch, writing more than a century later, described how Cleopatra achieved her mission: “[Cleopatra] embarked in a little skiff and landed at the palace when it was already getting dark; and as it was impossible to escape notice otherwise, she stretched herself at full length inside a bed-sack, while Apollodorus [her servant] tied the bed-sack up with a cord and carried it indoors to Caesar.” What did Cleopatra and Caesar think of each other? Caesar – a man some 30 years her senior – seems to have been instantly captivated by the Egyptian Queen and, after “succumbing to the charm of further intercourse with her, he reconciled her to her brother on the basis of a joint share with him in the royal power”. Suetonius tells us that Caesar was smitten by Cleopatra. “He often feasted with her until daybreak, and they would have sailed together in her barge nearly to Ethiopia had his soldiers agreed to follow him.” Cleopatra finally had the military support she needed to rule Egypt. Read more | What did Cleopatra look like? Her brother-husband was livid. On finding his banished sister and Caesar together at the palace, having clearly spent the night together, he reputedly flung his diadem to the ground and stormed out of the room, declaring his sister a traitor to Egypt. Chaos followed. Ptolemy besieged the palace in which Caesar was staying, and Cleopatra’s younger sister, Arsinoe, also joined in the fight. She declared herself to be the true queen of Egypt and led rebel forces against her siblings. All must have seemed lost for Cleopatra and her Roman lover but, with the arrival of Caesar’s troops from Syria, the tide turned once more. Ptolemy and Arsinoe were both defeated. Cleopatra’s seat as Egyptian ruler now seemed secure – she was even pregnant with Caesar’s child (some time between 47 and 44 BC Cleopatra gave birth to a son whom she named Ptolemy Caesar, or Caesarion]. But, instead, of declaring Cleopatra sole ruler of Egypt, the Roman general instead made her co-ruler with her remaining brother, and soon-to-be husband, 12-year-old Ptolemy XIV In June 47 BC, Cleopatra gave birth to a son, Ptolemy Caesar, known as Caesarion – ‘little Caesar’ – although the child was never formally acknowledged by his father. The pair followed Caesar to Rome, where they were officially welcomed as “friends and allies of the Roman people”. Cleopatra and Caesar: how did Rome react? Beneath the veneer of its friendly exterior, Rome was furious. Caesar had no sons from his Roman wife, Calpurnia, and none from his previous wives. The idea of Caesarion – the son of a foreigner from a land despised as a pleasure-loving and decadent society – growing up to claim rule over ‘civilised’ Rome as Caesar’s heir, was intolerable. That situation never came to pass, however, as the Caesar named his grandnephew Octavian (who would later take the name Augustus) as his heir. Caesar: Death of a Dictator Member exclusive | On the Ides of March 44 BC, the most famous Roman in history was murdered. Julius Caesar's assassination transformed Rome forever, and the image of his bloody toga has haunted monarchs and tyrants ever since. Listen to all episodes now When did Cleopatra and Caesar's relationship end? In 44 BC, when Caesar was assassinated, Cleopatra – a much-disliked figure in Rome, whose gold-covered statue stood in the city’s temple of Venus Genetrix – fled from Rome with her son. Just months later, the Egyptian Queen’s second brother-husband was also dead – likely on her orders – and Cleopatra was free to rule with her three-year-old son, and plan the infant’s succession as Emperor of Rome. Cleopatra meets Mark Antony Meanwhile, disputes had broken out over who would succeed Caesar, with both Octavian and the Roman general Mark Antony seeking power. By 41 BC, the leadership had been split: Antony was governing the eastern region and Octavian, the west. Following Cleopatra’s return, Rome had left Egypt in relative peace, but the Senate’s eyes turned once more to the wealthy empire, when Antony decided he needed money to subdue his enemies in the Parthian Empire (now Iraq). Conveniently, Cleopatra had befriended Mark Antony during her time in Rome, and supported him militarily during the ensuing civil war. She now agreed to meet him in Tarsus (modern-day Turkey) to discuss the prospect of Egyptian support in a war against the Parthians. When did Cleopatra and Mark Antony become lovers? In an echo of plans made seven years earlier with her former lover, Cleopatra set out for Tarsus in 41 BC to charm and seduce her unsuspecting old friend. This time, however, her entrance was somewhat grander. In Plutarch’s words: “[Cleopatra] came sailing up the River Cydnus in a barge with gilded stern and outspread sails of purple, while oars of silver beat time to the music of flutes and fifes and harps. She herself lay all along, under a canopy of cloth of gold, dressed as Venus in a picture, and beautiful young boys, like painted Cupids, stood on each side to fan her.” Like Caesar before him, Antony was captivated. “The attraction of her person, joining with the charm of her conversation, and the character that attended all she said or did, was something bewitching,” Plutarch tells us. “It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voice.” Antony was so taken with the Pharaoh that he abandoned his original reasons for meeting at Tarsus. He left his wife Fulvia to manage his affairs in Rome and his troops waiting for orders, while he spent the winter of 41–40 BC in Alexandria with Cleopatra. They were inseparable. During his stay, Cleopatra gained Antony’s support in ridding her of the one person who had the power to disrupt her absolute rule in Egypt: Arsinoe. Defeated in battle, Arsinoe had been banished to the Temple of Artemis in Roman-controlled Ephesus, in modern-day Turkey. In 41 BC, on Antony’s orders and in scandalous violation of the sanctuary she’d been promised, Arsinoe was murdered on the temple steps. Quiz | How much do you know about Cleopatra? The following year Cleopatra gave birth to twins: Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene II. Antony, however, had finally been forced to return to Rome to deal with the aftermath of his failed rebellion against Octavian. A political alliance known as the Second Triumvirate was formed between the two generals and a dignitary named Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. Recently widowed, Antony agreed to seal the peace deal with a marriage to Octavian’s sister, Octavia Minor, in 40 BC. But Cleopatra was never far from Antony’s mind and, in 37 BC, he returned to Alexandria where he fathered another son, Ptolemy Philadelphus, and Cleopatra and Caesarion were crowned co-rulers of Egypt and Cyprus. What happened to the Temple of Artemis and the other Seven Wonders of the Ancient World? "Despite only being a short-lived collection – the last to be completed, the Colossus of Rhodes, stood for less than 60 years – and one of them, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, possibly not existing at all, the Wonders continue to capture imaginations..." What happened to Cleopatra and Mark Antony? For a happy ending, the story should end there. But it doesn’t. Ever greedy for power, Octavian continued to campaign for sole power in Rome, successfully eliminating Lepidus from the Triumvirate. In 33 BC, allegedly in retaliation for Antony divorcing his sister, Octavian did the unthinkable: he declared war on the Egyptian queen. Two years later, in 31 BC, the combined armies of Antony and Cleopatra took on Octavian’s forces in a great sea battle at Actium, off Greece’s west coast. The battle was a disaster for the lovers. Victorious, Octavian invaded Egypt where he received the surrender of the defeated Roman forces. Antony’s efforts to become sole ruler of the Roman world had ended and, first believing that his amour had forged an agreement with Octavian to ensure her own survival, and then that she had committed suicide, he attempted to fall on his sword in true Roman tradition. But even in this he failed, and his wounded body was taken to Cleopatra who, still very much alive, was hiding in a mausoleum. There, Antony succumbed to his wounds, reportedly dying in his lover’s arms. Cleopatra realised that without her lover and his troops, she and her beloved country were now at the mercy of the triumphant Octavian. Knowing she would be paraded around as his prisoner should she be captured, the proud Egyptian Queen chose to take her own life, reputedly by allowing a poisonous Egyptian cobra, or aspis, to bite her. Rome had emerged victorious: the age of the Pharaohs was dead. Cleopatra: what is the real legacy of the last pharaoh? For more than 2,000 years Cleopatra VII, final ruler of Egypt's Ptolemaic dynasty, has been portrayed as a manipulative but tragic beauty. Yet, as Joann Fletcher reveals, such simplistic portrayals obscure her true legacy as a strong, politically astute monarch... What happened to Cleopatra's son, Caesarion? Following the deaths of Cleopatra and Mark Antony, the victorious Octavian changed his name to Augustus Caesar and assumed sole control of Rome as its emperor, administering to Egypt’s people and controlling its treasury himself. But one last threat to his rule remained: Caesar and Cleopatra’s son, Caesarion. Advised by his confidant and philosopher Arius Didymus that “too many Caesars is not good”, the new Emperor planned his rival’s murder, luring Caesarion to Alexandria with false promises of his safety. Read more | Searching for the pharaohs: where are the tombs of Ancient Egypt's missing kings and queens? The exact circumstances of Caesarion’s death are unknown, but it is thought that he may have been strangled, after which Augustus took absolute control of Egypt. The three children Cleopatra bore Mark Antony had different fates to their half brother. Following their parents’ deaths, the three were paraded through the streets of Rome in heavy gold chains, walking behind an effigy of their mother: twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios were ten, while Ptolemy Philadelphus was just four. The three children were given into the care of their former step-mother, Octavia. The two boys disappeared without trace a few years later, but the young Cleopatra later married King Juba II of Mauretania where we know she had at least one child, named Ptolemy Philadelphus, thought to have been named after her younger, missing brother.
A history of the Bible: who wrote it and when?
The origins of the Bible are still cloaked in mystery. When was it written? Who wrote it? And how reliable is it as an historical record? Spencer Mizen charts the evolution of arguably the most influential book of all time
In 2007, Time magazine asserted that the Bible “has done more to shape literature, history, entertainment, and culture than any book ever written.” With phrases like “an eye for an eye” and “thou shalt not kill” embedded in our language and over five billion copies sold worldwide (swollen by a further 100 million every year given away for free), its impact is undeniable. Though, while its cultural influence is clear, the history of the Bible is much less so. Questions about who wrote the Bible, when, and why have fascinated and perplexed scholars for centuries. These are the thorniest of questions, made all the more tangled by the Bible’s great age, and the fact that some, or all of it, has become a sacred text for members of two of the world’s great religions – Judaism and Christianity – numbering more than two billion people. Where does the Bible originate? Archaeological discoveries and the study of written sources, such as Merneptah's Stele, have shed light on the history of both halves of the Bible: the Old Testament, the story of the Jews’ highs and lows in the millennium or so before the birth of Jesus; and the New Testament, which documents the life and teachings of Jesus. These findings may be incomplete and they may be highly contested, but they have helped historians paint a picture of how the Bible came to life. For centuries, the Old Testament has been widely interpreted as a story of disaster and rescue – of the Israelites falling from grace before picking themselves up, dusting themselves down and finding redemption. Nowhere is this theme more evident than in Exodus, the dramatic second book of the Old Testament, which chronicles the Israelites’ escape from captivity in Egypt to the promised land. Read more | On ancient battlefields, the world's oldest civilisations turned beloved pets into weapons of war The Bible tells us that Moses led the Israelites out of their captivity in Egypt (whose population had been laid low by ten plagues inflicted on them by God) before Joshua spearheaded a brilliant invasion of Canaan, the promised land. The historical sources, however, are far less forthcoming. As John Barton, former professor of the interpretation of holy scriptures at the University of Oxford, puts it: “There is no evidence of a great invasion by the Israelites under Joshua; the population doesn’t seem to have changed much in that period as far as we can tell by archaeological surveys.” In fact, the best corroborating evidence for the Bible’s claim that the Israelites surged into Canaan is Merneptah’s Stele, a carved granite monument created by the Egyptian pharaoh Merneptah at the end of the 13th century BC. This stele, discovered in Thebes in 1896, mostly details the Egyptians’ victory over the Libyans and their allies. But it is the final three lines of the inscription that has arguably excited most interest among historians. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2020/04/GettyImages-1134266816-17c5bea-scaled-e1737028949459.jpg" width="619" height="413" alt="A replica of Merneptah’s Stele" title="A replica of Merneptah’s Stele, now housed in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. The last 3 of the 28 lines deal with a separate campaign in Canaan, then part of Egypt's imperial possessions. (Photo by Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)" /> “Israel has been shorn,” it declares. “Its seed no longer exists.” It’s an inauspicious start, one that boasts of this people’s near destruction at the hands of one of the ancient world’s superpowers in their homeland of Canaan. But the Israelites would survive. And the story they would go on to tell about themselves and their relationship with their God would arguably eclipse any of Merneptah’s achievements. It would spawn what is surely the most influential book of all time: the Bible. Merneptah’s Stele may describe more Jewish pain at the hands of their perennial Egyptian persecutors, but it at least suggests that they may have been in Canaan during Merneptah’s reign (1213–1203 BC). If the early history of the Israelites is uncertain, so is the evolution of the book that would tell their story. Who wrote the Bible? Scholars now believe that the stories that would become the Bible were disseminated by word of mouth across the centuries, in the form of oral tales and poetry – perhaps as a means of forging a collective identity among the tribes of Israel. Eventually, these stories were collated and written down. The question is by whom, and when? Until the 17th century, received opinion had it that the first five books of the Bible – Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy – were the work of one author: Moses. However, more recent evidence suggests otherwise. Read more | The murderous history of Bible translations A limestone boulder was discovered embedded in a stone wall in the town of Tel Zayit, 35 miles southwest of Jerusalem, in 2005. The boulder, now known as the Zayit Stone, contains what many historians believe to be the earliest full Hebrew alphabet ever discovered, dating to around 1000 BC. “What was found was not a random scratching of two or three letters, it was the full alphabet,” Kyle McCarter of Johns Hopkins University in Maryland has said of the stone. “Everything about it says this is the ancestor of the Hebrew script.” The Zayit Stone does not in itself tell us when the Bible was written and collated, but it gives us our first glimpse of the language that produced it. And, by tracking the stylistic development of that language down the centuries, and cross-referencing it with biblical text, historians have been able to rule out the single-author hypotheses, concluding instead that it was written by waves of scribes during the first millennium BC. Ask the expert: John Barton John Barton is a former professor of holy scriptures at the University of Oxford and the author of A History of the Bible: The Books and Its Faiths. Q: Just how reliable is the Old Testament as an historical document? A: Some parts, such as the early chapters of Genesis, are myth or legend, rather than history. But parts of Samuel, Kings, Ezra and Nehemiah describe events broadly known also from Assyrian or Persian sources. For example, Jehu, king of Israel in the ninth century BC, appears on an Assyrian monument, the Black Obelisk, doing obeisance to the Assyrian king. From about the eighth century BC onwards, the Old Testament contains some real historiography, even though it may not all be accurate. Q: Does it matter if it’s not historically accurate? Are we guilty of placing too much emphasis on this question? A: I think we are. Much of the Old Testament is about seeing God at work in human history rather than in accurately recording the detail, and sometimes we exaggerate the importance of historical accuracy. The Old Testament is not a work of fiction, but nor is it a modern piece of history-writing. Q: How much does archaeology support the historicity of the Old Testament? A To a limited extent. It gives us a context within which the Old Testament makes sense, but it doesn’t confirm a lot of the details. It mustn’t be forgotten that archaeology has also yielded vast numbers of documents from the ancient near-east, such as Assyrian and Babylonian annals, which illuminate the Old Testament world. Q: How much do we know about the scribes who wrote the Old Testament? A: The scribes are never described in detail in the Old Testament itself, but analogies with Egypt and Mesopotamia make it clear that there must have been a scribal class, probably attached as civil servants to the temple in Jerusalem or the royal court. After the exile of the Jewish people in Bablylon in the sixth century BC, scribes gradually turned into religious teachers, as we find them in the New Testament. Q: When was the Old Testament assembled into the book it is today? A: Probably during the first century BC, though parts of it were certainly regarded as holy scripture much earlier than that. But the collection is a work of early Judaism. It should be remembered that for a long time it was a collection of individual scrolls, not a single book between two covers. Q: Did the Old Testament anticipate the figure of Jesus Christ? A: There are prophecies of a coming Messiah – which means ‘anointed one’ – occasionally in the Old Testament, and Christians claimed them as foretelling Jesus. But messianic hopes were not widespread or massively important in first-century Judaism and are even less central to the Old Testament itself. Christians discovered texts they saw as messianic prophecies – for example, in Isaiah 7 – though other Jews did not read them that way. Q: Why did the New Testament gain so much traction in the first centuries AD? A: The New Testament was accepted because it was part of the package of the Christian message, which was massively successful in the early centuries. The message, which was that all humankind was accepted through Jesus by the God worshipped by the Jews, proved a winner. Who was Jesus? Did he really exist? Most scholars agree that Jesus, a first-century religious leader and preacher, existed historically. He was born in c4 BC and died – reportedly crucified on the orders of the Roman prefect Pontius Pilate – in cAD 30–33. Then, for around 40 years, news of his teachings was spread by word of mouth until, from around AD 70, four written accounts of his life emerged that changed everything. The gospels, or ‘good news’, of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John are critically important to the Christian faith. It is their descriptions of the life of Jesus Christ that have made him arguably the most influential figure in human history. Read more | How much is known about the birth of Jesus? “We can’t be sure when the gospels were written,” says Barton, “and we know little about the authors. But the guess is that Mark came first, in the 70s, followed by Matthew and Luke in the 80s and 90s, and John in the 90s or early in the second century. “In general, Matthew, Mark and Luke tell the same story with variations, and hence are called the ‘synoptic’ gospels, whereas John has a very different style, as well as telling a markedly different version of the story of Jesus. Matthew and Luke seem to be attempts to improve on Mark, by adding more stories and sayings from sources now lost. John is a different conceptualisation of the story of Jesus, portraying a more obviously divine figure.” Though the variations in the four gospels may have proved a source of frustration to those trying to paint a definitive picture of Jesus’s life and teachings, they offer a fascinating insight into the challenges facing the early Christian church as it spread around the Mediterranean world in the first and second centuries AD. Mark, it’s been argued, wrote for a community deeply affected by the failure of a Jewish revolt against the Roman empire in the AD 60s, while Luke wrote for a predominately Gentile (non-Jewish) audience eager to demonstrate that Christian beliefs could flourish within the Roman empire. Both John and Matthew hint at the growing tensions between Jewish Christians and the Jewish religious authorities. As a Jew, Jesus would have been well-versed in the Hebrew Bible and, according to the gospels, saw himself as the realisation of ancient Jewish prophecies. “Don’t think that I came to destroy the law, or the prophets,” Matthew reports him saying. “I didn’t come to destroy, but to fulfil.” But for all that, by the time the gospels were written, schisms between Judaism and nascent Christianity were clearly emerging. Versions of the Bible Different editions of the Bible have appeared over the centuries, aiming to further popularise the stories and teachings within. Here are three of the most notable versions... King James Bible On 24 March 1603, King James VI of Scotland was also crowned King James I of England and Ireland. His reign would usher in a new royal dynasty (the Stuarts) and a new era of colonialism (most especially in North America). But arguably every bit as significant was his decision, in 1611, to introduce a new Bible. The ‘King James Version’ (KJV) wasn’t the first to be printed in English – Henry VIII had authorised the ‘Great Bible’ in 1539 and the Bishops’ Bible had been printed during the reign of Elizabeth I in 1568 – but, in terms of impact, the KJV would dwarf its successors. Shortly after his coronation, James was told that existing translations of the Bible were “corrupt and not answerable to the truth of the original”. What his scholars produced was a book designed to be read out aloud in church – fast-paced, easy to understand, a masterclass in storytelling. No other version would challenge its dominance in the English-speaking world until the mid-20th century. According tob historian Adam Nicolson, the King James' Bible’s “particular combination of majesty and freedom, of clarity and richness, was for centuries held, particularly by the Victorians, to be the defining terms of our national identity”. The Gutenberg Bible In 1454, in the Rhineland town of Mainz, three friends – inventor Johannes Gutenberg, printer Peter Schöffer and financier Johann Furst – pooled resources and brainpower to come up with what the British Library describes as “probably the most famous Bible in the world”. The Gutenberg Bible, as the three friends’ creation would come to be known, signalled a step-change in printing techniques. Whereas earlier Bibles were produced by printing presses that employed woodblock technology, the press that churned out the Gutenberg Bible used moveable metal type, allowing more flexible, efficient and cheap printing. Gutenberg’s Bible also had massive cultural and theological ramifications. Faster, cheaper printing meant more books and more readers – and that brought with it greater criticism, interpretation, debate and, ultimately, revolution. In short, the Gutenberg Bible was a significant step on the road to the Protestant Reformation and ultimately the Enlightenment. In the words of Professor Justin Champion of Royal Holloway, University of London: “The printed Bible in the hands of the public posed a fundamental challenge to papal dominion. Once released from Latin into the vernacular, the word of God became a weapon.” Dead Sea Scrolls Sometime between November 1946 and February 1947, a Bedouin shepherd threw a stone into a cave at Wadi Qumran, near the Dead Sea. When he heard something crack he headed inside to investigate. What he found has been described by the Smithsonian Institute as “the most important religious texts in the Western world”. What the shepherd had chanced upon were the Dead Sea Scrolls, more than 800 documents of animal skin and papyrus, stored in clay jars for safe keeping. Among the texts are fragments of every book of the Old Testament, except the Book of Esher, along with a collection of previously unknown hymns and a copy of the Ten Commandments. But what really makes the scrolls special is their age. They were written between around 200 BC and the middle decades of the first century AD, which means they predate by at least eight centuries the oldest previously known Hebrew text of the Old Testament. Were the scrolls left in the caves by a Jewish community living near the Dead Sea or, perhaps, by Jews fleeing Roman troops in the first century AD? We may never know for sure.
Did aliens build the pyramids? The real history that debunks the conspiracy
Are the pyramids too awesome to have been the work of the mere mortals of ancient Egypt? If so, does that mean they were built by aliens? Rob Attar speaks to Professor Joyce Tyldesley about the origins of the pyramid conspiracy, and unveils what evidence we have for how these monuments were really constructed
Of all the examples of pyramids in Egypt, the most famous is certainly the Great Pyramid of Giza. It was the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and the only one still surviving, and for nearly 4,000 years it stood as the tallest human-made structure in the world. Now, more than 50 pyramids remain in Egypt: colossal feats of architecture and lasting monuments to the ancient civilisation of the pharaohs. But the complexity of the pyramids poses a significant challenge to archaeologists studying ancient Egypt. How, exactly, did this civilisation construct such magnificent and technically precise monuments? As with the likes of Stonehenge, there are many challenging theories that seek to answer these questions of who built the pyramids, and how. A pyramid conspiracy even exists, and poses the provocative question: did aliens build the ancient Egyptian pyramids? Were the pyramids built by aliens? The conspiracy theory explained So the theory has it, the pyramids were not the result of decades-long construction projects involving tens of thousands of people, gigantic logistical and administrative efforts, near-inexhaustible supplies of stone, and master architects and engineers. Instead, they were built by aliens, or at least aliens showed humans how to build them. Extra-terrestrial interference has not been the only theory to explain how an ancient civilisation boasted such awesome monuments. The people of Atlantis have received similar credit. Much about the pyramids, from how they were made to what is inside them, remains unknown to this day, so perhaps unsurprisingly there are many misconceptions as well as conspiracy theories attempting to explain legitimate lingering mysteries. Conspiracy: A HistoryExtra podcast series Member exclusive | Was the moon landing faked? Did Shakespeare actually write his plays? Were the pyramids built by aliens? Expert historians offer their perspectives on history's biggest conspiracy theories. Listen to all episodes now The evidence that debunks the pyramid conspiracy Archaeological evidence strongly suggests that the pyramids of ancient Egypt were built not by aliens, but by large groups of Egyptian labourers equipped with effective tools, directed by an impressive organisational ability. “If we take the Great Pyramid of Giza, we know that it was built by gangs of workers summoned under a sort of national service or corvée system,” explains Professor Joyce Tyldesley, Egyptologist at the University of Manchester. They had fairly basic but effective tools, and the workers were able to cut blocks of stone, transport them to the construction site and gradually erect the pyramid. “There are parts of the technology we can’t see today – for example, the ramps – but basically, it was the sheer amount of person power that made it all possible.” The existence of a limestone quarry near to the site of the Great Pyramid, plus evidence of the camp sites for the workers, reveals how extensive the project would have been. “We have evidence of how they were fed and for the cemeteries where they were buried,” adds Professor Tyldesley. But it is only in the past 50 to 70 years that our understanding of pyramid building has made significant strides, which for a long time left a vacuum in which conspiracy theories were able to take root. Egyptologists, archaeologists and historians could do more, according to Professor Tyldesley, to present the evidence and a credible alternative to the idea of alien visitors. “The construction of the pyramids encouraged not only building techniques, it encouraged civil service to develop to coordinate all the workers; the development of boats to ship timber or stone; medical skills to deal with accidents; and possibly increased the sense of community. I think the building of the pyramids is absolutely fundamental to the building of Egypt.” What is the source of the 'pyramids built by aliens' theory? Although pyramids have existed for more than four millennia – and across many civilisations around the world – the introduction of aliens was a fairly recent idea. “I would say it really develops after HG Wells publishes The War of the Worlds in 1897. This starts a run of sci-fi books,” says Professor Tyldesley. “There’s one in particular in 1898, Edison’s Conquest of Mars [by American astronomer and writer Garrett P Serviss], which reveals that the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx are Martian constructions. It’s not supposed to be a serious book; it’s fiction. But this idea that someone from outside Earth might have visited Egypt and built the pyramids took hold.” In 1968, the Swiss author Erich von Däniken published his bestselling book, Chariots of the Gods? Unsolved Mysteries of the Past, which went a long way in popularising the theory that ancient astronauts visited Earth, were welcomed as gods, and greatly influenced the cultures, religions, technologies and, of course, architecture of ancient civilisations. The reasons why the theory took hold There is a compelling argument that the belief in ancient aliens visiting Earth and imparting their superior knowledge stemmed, initially at least, from a refusal to believe that an ancient civilisation could actually construct such impressive monuments. Thus, the credit goes to some external power. More from us Explore more conspiracies from history Did Hitler escape from his bunker and live in Argentina after WW2? The real history that debunks the conspiracy Did NASA fake the Moon landing? “Did someone else write the plays of William Shakespeare? The real history that debunks the conspiracy Did Anastasia survive the massacre of the Romanovs? The real history that debunks the conspiracy “It’s not appreciating the skills and abilities of the people of the past because we have sufficient evidence to show that these people could do this type of building,” says Professor Tyldesley. “But I think there’s more to it than that. Prior to the idea of aliens helping to build the pyramids, we had the idea that people from Atlantis might have helped, and prior to that we had the idea that God inspired the builders.” The long succession of changing and evolving theories may be a result of the longevity of the pyramids themselves: they are still there, inspiring wonder and bewilderment. “The fact that we didn’t understand the Egyptian beliefs of death and the afterlife for a long time after the end of the dynastic age meant that we were forced to find explanations to try and understand why they were there.” Writer and broadcaster Dr Joyce Tyldesley is honorary research fellow at the School of Archaeology, Classics and Egyptology at Liverpool University, and teaches Egyptology at Manchester University
“The first historical document in the world”: what exactly is on the Narmer Palette?
A depiction of the unification of ancient Egypt? Or a powerful piece of propaganda for an early pharaoh? Here’s what we know about the 5,000-year-old ceremonial artefact…
Although lesser known than Tutankhamuun’s golden mask or Nefertiti’s bust, the Narmer Palette is a hugely significant artefact from ancient Egypt. The reason: it boasts a pair of firsts. To begin, it features some of the oldest hieroglyphic inscriptions yet found, leading the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, where the palette is on display, to describe it as “the first historical document in the world”. Next, the carved reliefs represent the earliest-known depictions of both Egyptian kingship and of the style of art now so synonymous with the civilisation. From its visualisation of the human form to how different elements of an image are placed and sized, early artefacts like this one established the artistic template used throughout the dynastic period over three millennia. What is the Narmer Palette? Measuring 64 by 42cm and made of flat grey-green siltstone, the Narmer Palette was, as the name suggests, a ceremonial palette resembling the kind that most Egyptians kept in their homes to make their cosmetics. They did so by mixing and grinding coloured minerals and oils together before applying the result to the skin. Makeup held not only aesthetic significance in ancient Egypt, but spiritual. Beauty was a sign of holiness, so the meaning of using ceremonial palettes like this one to depict something important, kingly even, would be widely understood. When was the Narmer Palette found? British archaeologists James Quibell and Frederick Green unearthed the Narmer Palette in near-perfect condition during their 1897-98 excavations. They were digging in the temple of Horus in Nekhen (or Hierakonpolis), which used to be the political and religious heart of Upper Egypt, when they came across an impressive cache of objects. This ‘Main Deposit’ had been ritually buried and included hundreds of artefacts, including statues, ivories, and the so-called Narmer Macehead – a decorative stone mace head. Who is depicted on the Narmer Palette? The Narmer who is thought to be depicted on the palette was a pharaoh in the earliest days of the dynastic period, credited with the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt around 3200–2900 BC. Both sides of the Narmer Palette are decorated to celebrate his deeds. His name appears in a serekh (a square cartouche) at the top, in between bovine heads that may represent the goddess Bat or Hathor. Read more | Egyptian pharaohs: your essential guide to Egypt’s ancient rulers On the Recto side, an oversized Narmer wears the white crown of Upper Egypt as he prepares to smite an enemy with a mace. His sandal bearer stands nearby, while the falcon god Horus stands on papyrus flowers (a symbol of Lower Egypt) and holds another prisoner with a rope. The Verso side is busier: the king, in the top-left corner, is again accompanied by his sandal bearer, but this time wears the red crown of Lower Egypt. Ahead of a procession of standard bearers are lines of decapitated and castrated prisoners. What draws the eye most on the Verso side, however, are two mythical creatures – serpopards, lepoard-like animals with serpentine necks – with their necks entwined and held by attendants. At the bottom, Narmer is seen as a bull trampling an enemy and destroying a fort. The use of both crowns, and possibly even the joining of the serpopards, may symbolise the unification. But it has been suggested the reliefs were not intended to honour a literal deed by Narmer, whether he even succeeded in uniting the kingdoms or not. Instead, the palette could represent a metaphorical bringing together of all lands and cosmos under the power of king. Through him, there was the balance of order, or ma’at to the Egyptians.