The Third Dynasty of Egypt: The Beginning of the Golden Age

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We travel back to Egypt in 2700 BC, where the first two dynasties of pharaohs guided this ancient civilization through growing pains known as the early domestic period. This period saw the unification of the two lands of Egypt through war, the innovation of the hieroglyphic writing system, and the emergence of Memphis as the new seat of power. It was now time to make way for the Old Kingdom, a new era that marked the beginning of Egypt’s first golden age, and some would argue the best of the bunch.

It started with the Third Dynasty, a seven-decade period that saw the emergence of many elements that made Egypt unique and still fascinate us today—almost five thousand years later. The culture, the unique art style, the pantheon of gods, and of course, the eternal pyramids all come from the Old Kingdom.

In a somewhat unusual move, we’re starting out with the main event, as it were, because Djoser was undoubtedly the most significant pharaoh of the Third Dynasty. So what made him so important? Well, that’s easy: his pyramid at Saqqara, the necropolis outside the ancient capital of Memphis. It was the first pyramid of Egypt and is still the oldest surviving pyramid in the world.

Djoser began his reign sometime around the early 2600s BC, succeeding Khasekhemwy, the final ruler of the Second Dynasty. The circumstances are a little murky, but the likeliest scenario is that Djoser was his son with Queen Consort Nimaathap. You might be wondering why a father and son would be classified in separate dynasties, and you can blame Manetho for that one. If that name sounds vaguely familiar, that’s because we mentioned him in most of our other videos on ancient Egypt. He was a priest and historian from the 3rd century BC who wrote the “Aegyptiaca,” possibly as an Egyptian counterpart to Herodotus and his chronicles. Although it has not survived in its entirety, the “Aegyptiaca” was a history of Egypt that included a chronological rundown of all the pharaohs up until that point, which he grouped into 30 dynasties. Modern historians realized they needed some classification system for all of these dusty mummified pharaohs, so they adopted those divisions since he had already done all the hard work, even if some dividing lines between dynasties seem a little random.

Starting with Djoser is the most commonly accepted version, but truth be told, we are stumbling around in the dark a bit. By that, we mean that Djoser might not have been the first pharaoh after all. According to some scholars, there are several surviving artifacts, such as the Abydos King List, the Saqqara Tablet, and the Turin King List, that Egyptologists rely on to establish the timeline of the pharaohs. They all name the rulers in chronological order, and literally no two are the same. Sometimes the order is different, sometimes the names are different; some mention five pharaohs in the Third Dynasty, others only four. It’s all a big jumble that Egyptologists have been trying to untangle for centuries, but there are still gaps wide enough that you could park a family-sized sedan in them, especially when talking about the earliest dynasties.

Now, it seems Djoser inherited quite a wealthy and thriving kingdom. He was able to enact multiple ambitious and expensive projects during his reign, which lasted between two and three decades. We have limited information on his military career, but it seems that his main concern was to strengthen Egypt’s borders, although he didn’t shy away from the occasional scuffle with his neighbors. During his reign, Djoser expanded his borders both to the east into the Sinai region and to the west into Libya, securing Egypt’s position as a dominant regional force during its early history. One historian said that Djoser’s time as pharaoh was defined by the construction of architectural monuments, agricultural developments, trade, and the rise of cities. His greatest passion was to build, and we’re not just talking about his pyramid. Djoser constructed many temples, including one that helped stop a deadly famine that was affecting his entire kingdom.

This story has survived through the ages thanks to the appropriately named Famine Stella, an inscription found on Sehel Island near the city of Aswan, once the main southern frontier of Egypt. Sure, it was made during the Ptolemaic Dynasty, which was 2500 years after Djoser, but let’s go with it anyway. According to the Stella, a severe drought caused seven years of famine in Egypt during Djoser’s reign. Children cried, the hearts of the old were grieving, courtiers were needy, temples were shut, and shrines were covered with dust. Everyone was in distress; some could only crumple to the ground in desperate prayer, while others resorted to theft and murder to get their hands on what little food was left. Meanwhile, the pharaoh could only watch helplessly as his people suffered.

Then one night, Djoser had a haunting dream where he received a visit from Khnum, the god of fertility credited with the creation of the Nile. Khnum revealed to the pharaoh that the famine was punishment for the people of Egypt for neglecting him and allowing his temple on the island of Elephantine to fall into disrepair. Djoser vowed to correct this injustice, so he sailed to the island himself. He didn’t just spruce up the old temple; instead, he built a brand new temple, bigger and better than ever. Happy with his new place of worship, Khnum ended the famine, and Djoser was hailed as the savior of his people.

Some of you might be raising an eyebrow, thinking that this is clearly a legend, and you’re probably right. However, it serves as a good indication of Djoser’s reputation among the ancient Egyptians, as he was still regarded as a hero thousands of years after his death.

Now we arrive at the highlight of his reign: his pyramid. During the first two dynasties, pharaohs were buried in mastabas, which were rectangular tombs dug into the ground with sloping walls and a flat roof. Even though some of them were pretty big, with enough room to bury the pharaoh and hundreds of his servants, they lacked the complexity and ambition that we associate with the final resting places of the pharaohs. Most importantly, they were made from mud bricks and wood, so they didn’t last very long. Sure, every now and then, the occasional limestone was used, but this was very much the exception rather than the rule.

When it was time to begin work on Djoser’s tomb, his advisor Imhotep had a light bulb moment: why not make it all out of stone? The pharaoh liked this idea, so he named Imhotep his chief architect and put him in charge of building his tomb. Imhotep, being the clever guy that he was, had another idea: what if we put another slightly smaller mastaba on top of the first one, and then another even smaller one on top of that one, and then another one? Six years later, we had the first Egyptian pyramid and probably the first large-scale monument in history made entirely of stone, standing over 200 feet high. It was the tallest structure of its time. The complex surrounding it also included a mortuary temple, several courts, a large trench, and a thick wall with a long colonnade that connected the entrance to the complex to the interior structures. Suffice it to say, ancient Egyptians had never seen something on this scale before, and they were left completely in awe. They liked it so much, in fact, that they started worshiping Imhotep, and a couple of thousand years later, he was fully deified as the god of medicine, equated to the Greek god Asclepius.

Ultimately, Djoser’s step pyramid was overshadowed by the stature and resplendence of the pyramids of Giza, but his reign was undoubtedly a landmark moment in history, as were the structures that came to define their civilization.

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Now, back to the video. Of course, the problem when you start at the top is that there is nowhere to go but down. Djoser’s successor didn’t really live up to the high bar set at the start of his dynasty. His name was Sekhemket, sometimes also known as Djoser-Teti, and we guess that he was Djoser’s son or perhaps his younger brother. Sekhemket is so obscure; he’s one of those pharaohs who is basically just a name inscribed on an ancient wall. The main reason why he failed to make a long-lasting impact was his short reign. Going by the various king lists, he only ruled as pharaoh for six or seven years.

But he did leave one thing behind that is worth talking about: his unfinished pyramid. Clearly, Djoser’s fancy new tomb was a big hit, and the pharaohs who came after him tried to follow in his footsteps. Sekhemket started construction on his own pyramid right next to that of Djoser in the necropolis of Saqqara. But he didn’t want his pyramid to be just like Djoser’s—no, he wanted it to be bigger. According to inscriptions, it was Imhotep again who designed it, so unsurprisingly, the construction was similar. However, because Sekhemket reigned for just a few years, only the base was completed by the time of his death. If finished, Sekhemket’s pyramid would have been around 230 feet tall, almost 30 feet taller than Djoser’s pyramid. But since only the bottom layer was constructed, Sekhemket’s pyramid was basically just a fancier mastaba made out of limestone instead of mud bricks. Unsurprisingly, his successor felt no obligation to complete it, so the unfinished structure was quickly engulfed by the desert sands and wasn’t even discovered until the 1950s.

Speaking of successors, we arrive now at the most contentious part: the elusive third pharaoh of the Third Dynasty. Generally, we know him by the name Sanakht, though he is sometimes identified as Nebka. So far, this isn’t so confusing or controversial since pharaohs had multiple names. But we also have some inscriptions that identify Nebka as the first pharaoh of the dynasty instead of Djoser. So is it possible that Sanakht, aka Nebka, could have been the founder of the Third Dynasty? Most historians say no, but we could pour a little gasoline onto this controversial fire by pointing out that Sanakht was the only pharaoh of the Third Dynasty not to build a pyramid for himself, or at least try to. Instead, he opted to be buried in a traditional mastaba, which would be more likely if he predated Djoser and his step pyramid.

That’s about all we know about Sanakht, except for the recent news that he may have been a giant. This little tip comes to us courtesy of scientists who analyzed the skeletal remains that may have belonged to Sanakht. While we cannot tell you for certain that they are his bones, we can say that they belong to a very tall man—he stood six feet one inch tall at a time when the average man was almost a whole foot shorter. Medical experts who inspected the bones believed that his extraordinary height was caused by gigantism, which would make Sanakht the first diagnosed case in medical records.

Already, we’re in the final stretch for the Third Dynasty, and surprise, surprise, we arrive at another pharaoh who was a shadowy figure known mainly as a name inscribed on a few walls and bowls, much like Sekhemket. It seems that Kaaba had a short reign of around six years, but unlike Sekhemket, there is some evidence—not a lot, but it’s there—that the ancient Egyptians might not have been big fans of Kaaba. They tried to erase his name from a few places, and as we know by now, this practice of damnatio memoria, or condemnation of memory, was reserved only for the naughtiest rulers—the ones who cut up to shenanigans that the people really didn’t like, such as trying to abolish all of the old gods and institute a new monotheistic religion. We’re looking at you, Akhenaten.

When you also take into account that Kaaba had a short reign, it could suggest that whatever he did may have angered the Egyptians enough to overthrow him. Also, like Sekhemket, Kaaba left behind an unfinished pyramid. However, for reasons known only to him, he didn’t consider Saqqara a suitable place for his tomb. Maybe he simply didn’t want to be overshadowed by Djoser, or maybe this was part of whatever he did to ruffle everyone’s feathers. But Kaaba selected a new spot for his eternal slumber at Zawyet el-Aryan necropolis, across the Nile from Memphis. There, construction began on a new step pyramid using almost the same architecture as Sekhemket’s unfinished pyramid. Today, the structure is known simply as the Layer Pyramid, and it lies in ruins, with only the base still standing. Scholars still can’t decide whether the pyramid was ever finished or not. Some believe that work on it was simply abandoned once Kaaba died; others think that the pyramid was completed and later torn apart so that the stone could be reused in other projects. Both scenarios suggest a pharaoh who was not very popular with the people.

And so we reached the end of the line for the Third Dynasty. If until this point the order of the pharaohs has been a best-guess scenario, we’re fairly certain who the last ruler was: Huni, possibly also known as Quaharjet. He is mentioned several times as the immediate predecessor of Sneferu, the first pharaoh of the Fourth Dynasty, and he may have been his father. As we saw earlier, it doesn’t really make sense to group Huni and his son into different dynasties, but we just do as Manetho commands, apparently. He even gives nice symmetry in relation to Djoser as we begin and end the Third Dynasty with its most prolific pyramid builder.

While Djoser was a pioneer and innovator who clearly had the most majestic pyramid in his era, it seems that Huni was a quantity-over-quality kind of guy. Also, like Djoser, he had a long reign of around two and a half decades that allowed him to dedicate himself to multiple construction projects. Huni broke from tradition and built multiple smaller step pyramids all over Egypt instead of one big one at Saqqara. However, none of them were exactly show stealers, and today they mainly lie in ruins. They puzzle historians as to their true purpose. Pyramids were built to serve as royal tombs, but since none of them fit the bill, Huni’s true motivation for them remains a mystery.

Unfortunately for Huni, modern scholars have stripped him of his greatest achievement: the Maidum Pyramid, possibly the most bizarre structure in ancient Egypt. The Maidum Pyramid was a hybrid; it started out as a step pyramid, but then someone thought that it would look better with smooth angled sides. It was encased in a limestone outer layer and turned into a true pyramid—perhaps even the first true pyramid in Egypt’s history. However, because it was a prototype, there were still some bugs to work out, so the outer layer partially collapsed. It was a valuable learning experience for the Egyptians as they perfected their pyramid-building techniques in the centuries that followed. Today, we’re left with a strange sight: half the step pyramid core exposed, the other half encased in limestone.

The Maidum Pyramid was a grand, ambitious project, not just due to the innovative and complex design but also in its size. In its finished state, it would have stood at an imposing height of 300 feet—almost 100 feet taller than Djoser’s pyramid. It completely dwarfed anything that came before it, so obviously, Huni would have earned some serious bragging rights if he was the one responsible for it. For a while, Egyptologists generally credited him with the colossal structure. They didn’t find his name inscribed anywhere inside the pyramid, but they found it on a few artifacts and some nearby mastabas. That, plus the long reign and the lack of other suitable candidates, all seemed to suggest that Huni was the likeliest culprit.

Alas, scholarly consensus has moved away, and today people usually credit his successor, Sneferu, as the man behind the Maidum Pyramid. Even so, some still think that credit should be shared and see it as perhaps a father-son project, where Huni built the original step pyramid and Sneferu decided to add the smooth outer layer. It is feasible, although it doesn’t explain why Huni was never buried there and why his name doesn’t appear on any inscriptions inside it. There is the possibility that Sneferu wanted all the glory for himself and removed all mentions of his predecessor’s efforts, but it seems unlikely. The mortuary cult dedicated to Huni survived for centuries after his death, indicating that he remained a popular pharaoh among the Egyptians.

Speaking of his death, it ended the 70-year period known as the Third Dynasty and ushered in the Fourth Dynasty—the true age of the pyramids.