The Treasures of the Pharaohs

A glimpse of this excellent Egyptian exhibition, the piece that moved me the most, and info on how to join me on a trip to Egypt in the autumn!

There is a splendid Egyptian show called the Tesori dei Faraoni (Treasures of the Pharaohs) presently at the Scuderie del Quirinale, the former stables of the Quirinal Palace which opened as an exhibition space about twenty-six years ago.

Coffin lid of Ahhotep II, the end of the Seventeenth Dynasty, sixteenth century BCE. On loan from the Egyptian Museum at Cairo to the Scuderie del Quirinale.

The Scuderie opened in 2000 and are under the direct auspices of the offices of the President of the Italian Republic which means it has a significant amount of international clout and can attract extraordinary loans of which private spaces can only dream. In my twenty-six years in Rome I’ve been to almost every single exhibition, and they’ve (almost) all been excellent.

Coffin lid of Queen Ahhotep II, detail

The Tesori dei Faraoni is no exception, it’s on until 3 May and if you’re going to be in town before then I’d urge you to book a ticket (ideally mid-week and at lunchtime when it’s quietest). One hundred and thirty pieces, some of which have never before left Egypt, have been lent by some of Egypt’s most important collections and are displayed beautifully in an exhibition curated by Dr Tarek El Away, former director of the Egyptian Museum at Cairo.

Bracelet of Ahmose I, son of Ahhotep II and founder of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Sixteenth century BCE

Having visited the show a couple of times—once with Florentine friends who came to Rome specially and once midweek on my own when I took these photos—I mentioned it with enthusiasm to my chum Sarah Murdoch when I was taking one of her groups around Rome and environs. She immediately asked whether I’d like to accompany a tour to Egypt this autumn. It will be led by Hoda Afifi, an excellent and very experienced Egyptian guide Sarah has worked with for years, and the logistics are dealt with by well-established folk on the ground.

I’ll be there to marvel along with the guests, chat about what we see, and (inevitably) provide the gentle addition of a Roman perspective. And of course we’ll be visiting the new Egyptian museum in Cairo, I think it’s going to be a great deal of fun! If you’re interested in joining me for just under two weeks of Egyptian delight all the info is here.

Outer coffin of Tuya, later Eighteenth Dynasty, early fourteenth century BCE

Thinking back to the exhibition: there’s a lot of fabulously eye-catching bling and one can bathe in its reflected glow before looking closer reveals the exquisite gilding and the most extraordinarily elegant detail. The second room is full of pieces from the astonishing tomb of Yuya and Tuya found in the Valley of the Kings at Luxor in 1905. Yuya and Tuya were the parents of Queen Tiye, principal wife of Amenhotep III making them the great grandparents of Tutankhamun. Until the discovery of his tomb in 1922 this was the richest and most intact to be found.

Coffin of Tuya, detail

Coffin of Tuya, detail

As well as the panoply of extraordinary and gleaming treasures there was one piece in this splendid show which particularly caught my eye: a limestone carving of the head of Seneferuseneb. This is what is called by archeologists a “reserve head”, and has been theorized as a sort of home for the soul in case of damage to the actual body of the deceased.

Seneferuseneb was the son of Sneferu, the first pharaoh of the Fourth Dynasty who was ruling circa 2600 BCE. I think we can all agree that is an astonishingly long time ago; for the Rome-centric among us it’s almost two millennia before the legend of Romulus.

Reserve head of Prince Seneferuseneb, Fourth Dynasty, c.2600 BCE

And yet Seneferuseneb is very much not a legendary person, and of all of the pieces in this extraordinary exhibition he is the one I've thought of the most. Something about the curve of the flesh of his cheek as it joins his nose and the gentle curve of his lips. His eyes may be without colour and detail but are no less real for that. And as I gazed into them, momentarily mesmerised, the four millennia between us melted away and I wondered what he’d been thinking of as his portrait was carved. Were they noble thoughts of eternity or perhaps as he waited impatiently for the sculptor to finish his sketch he thought of what he would be doing next (with joy, or foreboding?), or simply what would be for supper.

Either way it occurred to me how odd it was that here was I in a room in Rome looking at a portrait of a man whose life was beyond ancient for the ancient Romans. My overwhelming sense was not of his rank but of his nude humanity which for a moment rendered time irrelevant. I found it very moving indeed.