Hatshepsut (or Hatchepsut – Wikipedia favours the former, Tyldesley the latter) lived about 3,500 years ago and was, apparently, one of the most successful rulers of 18th Dynasty Egypt. She was the daughter of Thutmose I (AKA Tuthmosis I) and the sister and wife of Thutmose II, and, when her husband died after a fairly short and unimpressive reign, she took over the reins of power. However, she was always, officially a co-regent with her nephew, Thutmose III; but, as he was only two at the start of his reign, she was able to become the dominant co-king.
Tyldesley points out that, as there is no ancient Egyptian term for ‘queen’ (just titles like ‘pharaoh’s wife’ or ‘god’s wife’), it is appropriate to regard her as a female king – pharaoh was a male position and was only taken up by women in extraordinary circumstances. At the beginning of her reign, she was portrayed as quite feminine and girlish, but later, as she became the de facto sole ruler, the images she had made of herself became more and more masculine. One photograph shows a relief of the two co-pharaohs and they are pretty much identical.
Hatshepsut reigned for 22 years and, once she came into her own as the senior pharaoh, ruled very effectively, bringing peace and prosperity, initiating successful military campaigns and trading missions. After her death, however, Thutmose III – another highly successful pharaoh – seems to have waged a campaign to excise his aunt from history: her name and image were hacked from her public monuments.
This backlash and the pre-eminence of Senenmut, Hatshepsut’s senior advisor, has apparently led generations of egyptologists to make assumptions and concoct stories of palace intrigue. Thutmose III nursed his resentment for years and may even have done away with his co-ruler then blasted her name from the record in personal hatred and reactionary zeal. Senenmut gained his position from being his mistress’s lover – and may, too, have been murdered when he rose above his station.
Joyce Tyldesley paints a rather more measured picture, saying simply that there is no evidence to support such lurid conjecture. The reali story was probably a lot less fraught and dominated by convenience and real politik.
There are some interesting parallels made between Hatshepsut and other prominent female leaders from history – Joan of Arc, Elizabeth I and Margaret Thatcher all also led successful military campaigns and took on some masculine qualities to better appeal to conservative populations. (Cleopatra, on the other hand is rather dismissed as a Hatshepsut analogue, being a scion of a Greek dynasty rather than a native Egyptian.)
The book is written in lucid and mildy dry style. It’s not too long – mainly perhaps because of the dearth of historical information about Hatshepsut – and covers the background history of the 18th Dynasty, the main periods and themes of the female pharaoh’s life, as well as the aftermath of her reign. I think there could have been a bit more about the sweep of Epygtian history and Hatshepsut’s place therein; and I was often confused about the (admittedly decidely bewildering) family relationships surrounding the woman king. Well worth reading, though.
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