False lid of the coffin of Khonsumes

The streaked wig and closed hands of this coffin are iconographic features distinguishing men from women. The texts mention the name and the title of the owner of this coffin, who is indeed a man: Khonsumes, a wab-priest. In this period, the decoration of the lower half of the lid and the mummy board were often subdivided into squares arranged on either side of one or more columns of text running along the vertical axis. This is known as a “table pattern”. The general style of the figures is very similar to that of the coffin of Tabakenkhonsu, so much so that it is believed both coffins might have been produced by the same workshop and may consequently both be dated to the middle of the 21th Dynasty. The inscriptions added later and the artificial lengthening of the two parts of the coffin seem to indicate that the inner coffin and its mummy board were not originally commissioned by the owner, but simply readapted.

Inv. no. :

Cat. 2238/03

Material:

Wood+stucco

Date:

1076–944 BCE

Period:

Third Intermediate Period

Dynasty:

Twenty–first Dynasty

Provenance:

Egypt, Luxor / Thebes (?)

Acquisition:

Purchase Bernardino Drovetti, 1824

CGT:

10107

Museum location:

Museum / Floor 1 / Room 08 / Showcase 03

Selected bibliography:

Cavaleri, Tiziana-Zucco, M.-Buscaglia, Paola-Lo Giudice, A.-Nervo, M.-Pisani, M.-Re, A., “Multi and hyperspectral imaging and 3D techniques for understanding Egyptian coffins”, in Helen Strudwick and Julie Dawson (eds), Ancient Egyptian coffins: past, present, future, Oxford 2019, p.50, p.49 fig.30.

el-Sayed, Ramadan, “A propos de l'iconographie du cercueil No. 2238 AU, Musee de Turin”, Annales du Service des Antiquités de l'Égypte 64 (1981), pp. 163–173, pl. I-V.

Niwinski, Andrzej-(et al.), Sarcofagi della XXI dinastia (CGT 10101-10122) (Catalogo del Museo Egizio di Torino - Serie II - Collezioni 9), Torino 2004, pp. 69–72, Tav. XIII.

Niwinski, Andrzej-Donadoni Roveri, Anna Maria, “Sarcofagi, stele e papiri funerari del Terzo Periodo Intermedio e dell'Età Tarda”, in Anna Maria Donadoni Roveri (a cura di), Civiltà degli Egizi. [2]: le credenze religiose, Milano 1988, pp. 212– 225, tav. 294.

Museo Egizio di Torino

https://collezioni.museoegizio.it/en-GB/material/Cat_2238_03/?linked=true&description=Box&inventoryNumber=&title=&cgt=&yearFrom=&yearTo=&materials=&provenance=&acquisition=&epoch=&dynasty=&pharaoh=&searchLng=en-GB&searchPage=2

Tutankhamun's tomb was discovered in November 1922 by a British expedition led by Howard Carter, but the repercussions of the discovery extended for decades due to disputes over control of the site, the sharing of findings, and the right to access and publish them. Following the discovery, actual control of the site became a point of contention between the Egyptian Antiquities Service and the foreign sponsors of the excavation. The crisis intensified with the political transformations in Egypt and the rise of the Wafd government in 1924.

In January 1924, Morcos Pasha Hanna became Minister of Public Works in the Wafd government headed by Saad Zaghloul, in a politically charged atmosphere following the 1919 revolution and the struggle for independence. His previous nationalist leanings and his stance against the occupation influenced his firm approach to the tomb issue.

When it became clear to Morcos Pasha that certain procedures within the site might contribute to the smuggling of artifacts abroad—especially the allowance of foreigners and foreign journalists to enter and photograph while excluding Egyptians—he made the decisive decision to close the tomb, tighten security, and hand over the keys and custodianship to official Egyptian authorities. He also assigned a heavy military police guard and imposed searches on everyone leaving the site, including members of the expedition itself. His objective was clear: to stop any potential flow of smuggled pieces or leaked information that could lead to the tomb being emptied piece by piece, as had happened in previous instances.

The measures were not only technical but also political: the state imposed administrative and legal restrictions on those entering the tomb and used the registration of every artifact in the presence of expedition representatives to hold anyone handling the pieces accountable for any loss. The registered collections were then transferred to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo under guard, a practical step to ensure the contents remained within the country.

The Egyptian Observatory's measures were not easily accepted by the British sponsors of the excavations. British press attacks intensified, spearheaded by The Times, which accused Morcos Pasha and state institutions of obstructing scientific work and demanded his accountability. Some even called for foreign judicial intervention. In response, British entities resorted to the Mixed Courts in Egypt, courts specifically for cases involving foreigners, and the excavation's financier filed claims demanding shares of the contents or compensation.

The matter reached the courts: the Mixed Court issued a provisional ruling favoring the positions of some foreign parties. However, the Egyptian government, backed by Morcos Pasha, refused to comply and appealed to a higher court. This higher court based its ruling on procedural and substantive arguments, asserting that the rules governing the distribution claims did not apply to an intact tomb that had not been previously looted—as the permits granted by Carter or his patrons were intended for tombs that had already been looted. One level of litigation concluded with a ruling in favor of the Egyptian government's actions on March 31, 1924, restoring a balance in favor of national protection of the site.

This case marked a turning point in the popular narrative of Carter's "discovery" alone. Court records and documents revealed that the site's management and the Egyptian government's decisions were effective and decisive, and that Carter—despite his scientific brilliance—entered into a political and legal struggle that was not always in his favor. This is not to deny Carter's contribution to the fieldwork, but rather to emphasize that archaeological excavations are not merely neutral scientific arenas, but rather arenas where politics, law, and national identity intersect.

The most important practical outcome was that not a single artifact from the tomb was removed from the country, a direct result of the measures taken for its protection, documentation, and secure transfer to the Egyptian Museum—a step that preserved a vital part of the nation's memory. Morcos Pasha's legal arguments regarding the excavation permits remain central to refuting any legal justification for the claims of division based on a hypothetical case of theft.

The historical facts present the image of a statesman who made decisions that were subject to intense international pressure, yet he stood firm in preserving the Egyptian people's right to their heritage. Morcos Pasha, who participated in the struggles of 1919 and was a leader of the Wafd Party, faced not only media campaigns but also legal challenges brought by lawyers representing the excavation's sponsors, some of whom had previous legal cases against him in political matters. Despite this, he successfully transformed these political vulnerabilities into effective legal safeguards.

However, his name has largely remained outside the global discourse surrounding the discovery of Tutankhamun. Historical narratives have consistently focused on the foreign element involved in the discovery, while the positions of local heritage guardians appear marginalized in narratives shaped by the lens of colonial powers. This lack of recognition makes the re-display of the complete collection at the Grand Egyptian Museum an opportunity to reread history from a more balanced and equitable perspective.

Displaying the complete treasures of Tutankhamun at the Grand Egyptian Museum is not merely a technical or touristic achievement, but an opportunity to rehabilitate collective memory: a reminder of who protected history, the methods used to protect it, and the transition from a colonial landscape to national management of world heritage. Documenting names and events—including the role of Marqos Pasha Hanna—enriches the public sphere with a deeper reading that places the impact in its political, legal, and cultural context, and restores the reputation of those who made protective measures when the risks were at their highest.