Hieroglyphs 101 · Chapter 05
Warm-up · 5 quick retrievals from earlier chapters
Names in rings
You already own twenty-six sounds. That is enough, right now, to read the name of a king who has been dead for four thousand three hundred years. This chapter hands you three more signs and then puts them to work immediately, on stone.
Three signs, and what they open
| Sign | Name | Key | Reads | Means | Why now |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 𓍷 | V10 | cartouche | — | the cartouche: a loop of rope with a tie | from šn, "encircle" — the ring around a royal name: all the sun encircles is his |
| 𓇳 | N5 | sun | rꜥ | sun disc; the god Ra | in nearly every throne name — twice below |
| 𓇓 | M23 | sedge | sw | sedge plant | writes nswt, "king of Upper Egypt" |
Draw all three now. 𓍷 rewards a slow hand: it is one continuous loop with a small tie at one end, not two separate strokes.
The ring around a name
Egyptian scribes did not leave a royal name loose on the line. They drew a rope around it — a single loop, knotted at one end, that marks everything inside as a king’s or queen’s name and nothing else. On stone, carved in relief, it is one unbroken oval. This site prints it as two half-brackets, 𓍹 at the start and 𓍺 at the close, so that you can always see where the name begins and ends without losing the line of text around it. Both conventions draw the same rope; only the typography differs.
Now use it.
Reading 1 — a king’s name, whole
Teti founded the Sixth Dynasty. His name is short, and every sign in it is already yours:
urn:nabu:aes:bbawgrabinschriften:4XYEPTMPFVDLBLDP7MIG2ZGULA:IBUBd0iIwW33TUucmnJRQ1s6sDo
· license: attribution. The stone writes t-t-j; the ring
around it is this site's print convention for the cartouche the
carving itself draws as one loop.
Three signs — 𓏏 twice, 𓇋 once — spell the name of a man who ruled Egypt before 2300 BCE. Read it again. That is not a reconstruction. That is his name.
Reading 2 — cold, with a gap
Pepi came to the throne two reigns after Teti. His name spells its final sound generously, and it ends in a sign you have not met:
urn:nabu:aes:sawlit:L4M2NZM2YZAZRBIKQQBAVX743U:IBUBd34TiLKLQ0FqjeiMWhwlezE
· license: attribution. The final ▢ is a seated-figure sign that
classifies the word as a person of rank — a determinative,
chapter 03's silent classifier, still untaught in glyph form.
This papyrus writes the name as borne by a namesake, not the
king himself — chapter 09 tells that story, and opens the box.
Read it cold before checking the gloss: 𓊪 p, 𓊪 p, then the reed doubled 𓇋𓇋 and the y-mark 𓏭 — three signs all spelling the name’s final glide, belt and suspenders in the manner of chapter 03. Egyptologists render it Ppj: Pepi. The box at the end tells you only that a person is meant; it does not spell a sound. You will own it when chapter 09 opens the classifiers of people and titles.
The name carved first
Egyptian scribes had a courtesy rule with real teeth: when a king’s or a god’s name shared a phrase with other words, the name was carved first, out of respect — even when grammar reads it last. This is honorific transposition, and it is not a scholarly abstraction; you can see it happen.
An estate name from Teti’s reign means, in full, “Ptah-satisfies-Teti” — the god Ptah doing something for the king. Grammatically Teti’s name sits at the end of the phrase. On the stone it sits at the head:
urn:nabu:aes:bbawgrabinschriften:7BM7RKW5QZAT3IM3GEWZOHHQSA:IBUBdz73NpSnXUjWrIxfENkpEeA
· license: attribution. The four boxes carry sḥtp-ptḥ,
"Ptah satisfies" — signs still ahead of you; the point stands
without them.
Look at the sign order against the reading order: Ttj is carved first, 𓏏𓏏𓇋, and read last. Nobody made a mistake. The scribe put the king’s name where the eye lands first, and trusted the reader to sort out the grammar. You just caught a four-thousand-year-old act of deference, in the order of the signs themselves.
The rings that cracked the script
One more ring, as a preview, not a graded reading. Foreign rulers of Egypt had no hieroglyphic name of their own, so their names had to be spelled the way any foreign word is spelled — sound by sound. That single fact turned the cartouche into the crowbar of decipherment: a ring around a foreign name was a ring around pure phonetics, with nothing pictorial hiding the sounds.
You can already sound out most of it: 𓊪 p, 𓏏 t, 𓅓 m, 𓇋𓇋 y, 𓋴 s. Two faces are new — 𓍯, a lasso, carrying the o-sound, and 𓃭, a lion, carrying L. Egyptian had no native sign for L; the lion was borrowed to spell a sound the language itself did not need. Champollion’s whole breakthrough started with rings exactly like this one.
Drill before you go on
- Draw the cartouche — the rope loop, tie and all — from memory.
- Write Teti’s name, 𓏏𓏏𓇋, inside a ring of your own drawing.
- Read Pepi’s name cold, without looking at the gloss above.
- Explain to an imaginary student why a lion sits in Ptolemy’s name.
Next: the offering formula — Egypt’s most-written sentence, and you will read every sign of it.