Latest / Ramses the Great: Egypt's Most Powerful Pharaoh — Fexingo History / Ramses II's Daily Life: Food, Fashion, and Family
Transcript
- Lucas: If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you know we’ve spent a lot of time looking at Ramses II from a distance—the grand statues, the battles, the treaties. But today, I want to bring the camera right up to his face, to see what he was actually eating, wearing, and worrying about on a Tuesday morning in Pi-Ramesses. Luna: I love that idea because the statues feel so cold and static. Lucas: Exactly. The stone doesn’t tell you about the humidity, the noise, or the sheer logistical nightmare of feeding a court that included dozens of wives, hundreds of children, and a bureaucracy that stretched from Syria to Nubia. To understand Ramses, we have to look at the mundane mechanics of his power. Lucas: Let’s start with something surprisingly grounding: his breakfast. It wasn’t ambrosia; it was bread and beer, the staple calories of every Egyptian, but for him, it was bread made from spelt and emmer wheat, filtered to be finer than the peasant’s loaf, accompanied by cups of local wine rather than water. Luna: Wait, did they really drink wine for breakfast? Lucas: They did, especially among the elite, and it was often flavored with herbs or dates to sweeten it. But the real luxury item wasn’t the alcohol—it was honey. Sugar didn’t exist, so honey was the primary sweetener, and it was expensive enough to be a marker of high status. Imagine your morning coffee coming with a drizzle of something worth its weight in silver. Luna: That sounds incredibly decadent compared to my toast. Lucas: It was. And if he wanted meat, which he certainly did, it would be roasted duck or beef, seasoned with cumin and coriander—spices that had to be traded down from the Levant or imported via the Red Sea ports. The kitchen staff in Pi-Ramesses was a military operation in itself, managing stores of grain, dried fish, and fresh produce from the palace gardens. Lucas: Once he ate, Ramses would dress. Now, we often think of Egyptians in elaborate jewelry, but the base garment for men was the shendyt, a simple kilt of white linen. For a pharaoh, this linen was woven so finely it was almost translucent, laundered constantly to keep it stark white, a visual representation of purity and order. Luna: So the whiteness was symbolic? Lucas: Absolutely. White symbolized Ma’at, the cosmic order he was sworn to uphold. He would layer on a broad collar necklace made of faience beads, imitating the colors of the sun and the sky, and then there was the wig. Ramses is almost always depicted with a long, braided wig over his natural hair, which was likely shaved clean for hygiene and comfort in the heat. Luna: I never realized how practical shaving their heads must have been. Lucas: It was essential. Lice were a constant enemy, and wigs provided protection against the sun while maintaining that idealized, youthful appearance required of a god-king. But this wasn’t just about vanity; it was about projecting an image of eternal youth and vigor to the public. When he walked out to address his court, the light catching the white linen and the dark, polished curls of the wig was part of the spectacle. Lucas: The court itself was a whirlwind of activity. Scribes were already moving through the halls, carrying tablets and scrolls. They weren’t just recording poetry; they were tracking inventory. Every jar of oil, every sack of grain, every head of cattle in the royal herds had to be accounted for. The economy of Egypt was run on paper, literally. Luna: Paper running the economy sounds familiar. Lucas: It’s the backbone of administration. And amidst this bustle, Ramses would navigate his family. He had many wives, but his Great Royal Wife, Nefertari, held a special place. She wasn’t just a spouse; she was a political partner, appearing alongside him in temples and receiving foreign dignitaries. Their relationship seems to have been one of genuine mutual respect, at least in the early years of his reign. Luna: Did she have her own staff separate from his? Lucas: She had her own extensive household, complete with female officials and servants. Nefertari was known for her intelligence and influence, and she even traveled to Hattusa to help secure the peace treaty with the Hittites. But as the decades went on, the dynamics shifted. With so many children, the pressure of succession became a constant undercurrent. Lucas: This brings us to the delicate business of heirs. Ramses had sixteen sons before he even turned forty. The firstborn, Amenherkhepeshef, died young, which threw everything into chaos. The crown eventually passed to Merenptah, but not without friction. The hierarchy of the harem wasn’t just about romance; it was a competitive arena where mothers vied for their sons’ futures. Luna: So the harem was basically a job market for kids. Lucas: Precisely. And one son who stands out in this scramble is Khaemwaset. He wasn’t the eldest, but he was appointed Crown Prince for a time and served as High Priest of Ptah at Memphis. He was a scholar, an archaeologist of sorts, restoring old monuments and trying to preserve the past while serving the present. Luna: I remember hearing about Khaemwaset in a previous episode. Lucas: He was fascinating, but even he couldn’t escape the pressures of the court. Eventually, Merenptah took the throne, and Khaemwaset remained a powerful figure, but the transition was always a tense moment. Ramses spent his later years managing these relationships, ensuring loyalty, and dealing with the physical decline that comes with age. Lucas: Speaking of age, let’s talk about health. We know from examining his mummy that by his seventies, Ramses was suffering from severe arthritis and dental issues. His teeth were worn down from grit in the bread, and his joints were stiff. Yet, he continued to work, signing documents and overseeing projects well into his eighties. Luna: That kind of persistence is hard to imagine. Lucas: It was driven by duty and perhaps fear. In Egypt, the king’s health was tied to the health of the land. If he faltered, it could be seen as a sign that the gods were displeased. So he likely relied heavily on the physicians. The Ebers Papyrus gives us a glimpse into their treatments—poultices of moldy bread, mixtures of honey and herbs, and prayers to Sekhmet, the lioness goddess of healing. Lucas: But it wasn’t all medical dramas. There were moments of leisure too. The palace gardens were lush oases filled with lotus flowers, sycamore trees, and ponds full of fish and birds. Ramses would walk here, escaping the formality of the throne room. It was a place for reflection, for private conversations, and for enjoying the beauty of the land he ruled. Luna: A quiet garden feels like a rare gift in such a busy life. Lucas: It was. And in those gardens, he might have played games with his grandchildren. Senet and Mehen were popular board games, played on wooden boards with carved pieces. These weren’t just toys; they were metaphors for the journey through life and the afterlife. Playing them was a way to connect across generations. Lucas: As evening fell, the court would dim its lights. The air would cool, and the sounds of the city outside—the merchants closing stalls, the guards changing shifts—would become more distinct. Ramses would dine again, perhaps more lightly, reviewing the day’s reports or meeting with trusted advisors. It was a routine repeated for sixty-six years, a rhythm of power that sustained one of history’s greatest empires. Luna: Sixty-six years of the same routine? Lucas: Yes, but within that routine, there was immense change. Wars, famines, diplomatic breakthroughs, personal losses. The stability of the daily life allowed the state to weather those storms. Without the consistent machinery of the palace, the empire might have fractured sooner. Lucas: Before we go deeper into the later years of his reign, I want to take a quick moment to talk about how we make this show. We deliberately don't run ads on these episodes. It’s a choice we made to keep the content pure and focused on deep research rather than chasing clicks. If you value that approach and want to support the network directly, the link is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Your contributions help us keep producing these detailed conversations without compromise. Luna: Yeah, it’s great to have a space for history without the interruptions. Lucas: Exactly. Thank you for supporting that vision. Now, let’s get back to Ramses, because his final decade offers some of the most poignant insights into his character and his legacy. Luna: I’m ready to hear about those final years. Lucas: In his eighties, Ramses began to plan for his own death with unusual transparency. He ordered the creation of a false tomb entrance in the Valley of the Kings, KV5, which turned out to be the largest tomb ever discovered, intended for his numerous sons. This was a bold move, publicly acknowledging the size of his family and the complexity of his lineage. Luna: Building a tomb for his kids is pretty forward-thinking. Lucas: It was unprecedented. Usually, tombs were solitary. By building KV5, he was creating a dynastic monument, a statement that the future of Egypt lay in his bloodline. It shows a pharaoh who was thinking beyond his own immortality, focusing instead on the continuity of the dynasty. Lucas: His health continued to fail, but his mind remained sharp. He issued decrees protecting the rights of widows and orphans, showing a concern for social justice that aligned with his role as the shepherd of his people. He even visited Deir el-Medina, the village of the artisans who built his tombs, checking on their welfare and addressing grievances personally. Luna: Visiting the workers himself? Lucas: He did. And while we know there were strikes later, under Ramses, the relationship seemed more paternal. He understood that the quality of his monuments depended on the skill and morale of those hands. It was a pragmatic recognition of human capital, wrapped in the divine authority of kingship. Lucas: When he finally died, around 1213 BC, he was nearly ninety. The mourning was widespread, and the transition to Merenptah was smooth, largely because Ramses had carefully cultivated his heir’s reputation and secured the loyalty of the key priests and generals. The empire remained intact, a testament to the administrative structures he had reinforced over six decades. Luna: So the daily management paid off in the end. Lucas: It did. We tend to remember Ramses for the big moments—the battle, the treaty, the statue. But it was the small, consistent acts of governance, the breakfasts, the walks in the garden, the attention to detail—that built the foundation of his power. He was a master of the ordinary, elevated by circumstance to the extraordinary. Lucas: Thinking about his daily life reminds us that behind every great historical figure is a human being dealing with the same basic needs and anxieties we do, just on a larger stage. It makes the history feel less like a myth and more like a lived experience. Luna: It definitely makes him feel more real. Lucas: It does. And it raises a question for next time: how did his successors manage to maintain that same level of control when the pressures from abroad and internal dissent began to mount? The foundation was laid, but could it hold forever? Luna: I wonder if the cracks started forming in those garden walls. Lucas: Perhaps. But that’s a story for another day. Until then, keep listening, keep wondering, and I’ll see you in the next episode.