Henna or not henna, that is the question - 3rd part

INDEX
1st part: the mummy of Asru 
2nd part: the Screaming Woman and the woman in burial 16 from Nekhen 
3rd part: the French research on ancient henna


THE FRENCH RESEARCH
In the first part of my article about fair-haired mummies there is a short paragraph about henna, where I mention the Ebers Papyrus. In this medical papyrus of herbal knowledge, dating to c. 1550 BC, a plant is mentioned with the name “hnw plants” and some Egyptologysts argue this is the plant today known as Lawsonia inermis. However, apart from the similarity between hnw and the term henna, it is not clear on what they base this assumption.
On the contrary, other Egyptologysts believe henna is to be identified with the names qpr and qwpr in the Demotic language, and this is the same thesis we find in the 2009 research by Luc Renaut Recherches sur le henné antique. Early Demotic is generally dated between 650 and 400 BC, so that would be consistent with Renaut’s thesis.
I will give you an overview of the research, citing a few passages, but if the subject interests you, I suggest you read it in its entirety.

When did henna arrive in Egypt?
Linguistic and historical documentation (incuded personal names) leads Renaut to place the introduction of Lawsonia inermis into Egypt and the Levant around the middle of the first millennium BC, via the southern regions of the Red Sea.
So, if this is true, it means none of the three mummies seen in the previous parts of this article may have traces of henna, as well as most Egyptian mummies.
Renaut draws a connection between three linguistic forms that share the consonantal root k-p-r:
• Biblical Hebrew: kōfer (כֹּפֶר), associated with henna in the Song of Songs.
• Demotic Egyptian: qwpr, attested in several papyri, as we will see later.
• Greek: kýpros (κύπρος).
Renaut argues that these forms do not simply derive from a pre-existing Akkadian term; rather, he suggests that the name was introduced to the Near East along with the plant itself.

Flowers of Lawsonia inermis

 

Roman and Greek sources
The Greek term κύπρος (kýpros) appears for the first time in Theophrastus’s Smells (late 4th–early 3rd century BC). It does not refer to the plant (which Theophrastus, despite being an accomplished botanist, never described), but rather to the perfume.
Later, in the first century AD, Dioscorides and Pliny the Elder both describe a fragrant shrub that possesses all the characteristics of Lawsonia.

In De materia medica, under the entry kýpros (κύπρος), Dioscorides describes a shrub or small tree with:
• leaves resembling those of the olive, but broader, softer, and greener;
• white, fragrant flowers;
• black seeds;
• the best specimens coming from Ascalon and Canopus—located, respectively, in modern-day Israel and the Egyptian Delta.
Most notably, he states that the leaves, when crushed and macerated in the juice of strouthion (probably Gypsophila struthium, a species of soapwort), were applied to the hair to dye it yellow. See here. on page 122. 

As for Pliny the Elder, in Naturalis Historia, XII, 51, he describes an Egyptian plant with leaves similar to those of the jujube (Ziziphus jujuba) and notes that a perfume called cypros is produced from it. He further specifies its origins: Canopus, Ascalon, and Cyprus.

A tree found in Egypt is the cypros, which has the leaves of the jujube-tree and the white, scented seed of the coriander. Cypros-seed is boiled in olive oil and afterwards crushed, producing the cypros of commerce, which sells at 5 denarii a pound. The best is made from the tree grown at Canopus on the banks of the Nile, the second best at Ascalon in Judea, and the third quality on the island of Cyprus, which has a sort of sweet scent. The cypros is said to be the same as the thorn called privet in Italy. (source)

Even more significant is another passage in Naturalis Historia, XXIII, 46, in which he addresses the medicinal properties of cypros leaves, stating that when mixed with struthium, they dye the hair red. 

I have already described the nature of the cyprus and the method of extracting oil from it. Its properties are heating, and it softens the sinews. The leaves make an application for the stomach and for an irritated uterus; their juice too is made into a pessary. The fresh leaves are chewed and used as a remedy for running sores on the head, also for sores in the mouth, gatherings and condylomata. A decoction of the leaves is good for burns and sprains. The leaves themselves, pounded and applied with the juice of the sparrow apple turn the hair red. The blossom applied with vinegar soothes headache, and also, if burnt in a pot of unbaked clay and applied either alone or with honey, heals corroding sores and putrefying ulcers... (source)

Later on, in the VI century AD, Aëtius of Amida, a Byzantine Greek physician and medical writer, gives a recipe for red hair in his Sixteen Books on Medicine, VI, ch. 59.

 

Egyptian sources
In Egyptian papyri there are six occurrences of qwpr and kwpr and these papyri date from 61 AD to III century AD. None of these occurrences is about hair dyeing. On the contrary, they are mostly about henna oil and “bushes of henna” (see page 7 of the research).
As for mummification, henna is not mentioned as an element for this process. The ritual papyri concerning mummification provide a surprisingly incomplete record and, as a matter of fact, they only describe the ceremonial rituals involved and not the actual surgical processes. A more detailed source is Herodotus, who, in Book 2 of his Histories, gives a description of the Egyptian mummification process, including the mention of using natron in order to dehydrate corpses for preservation (see here).
As I wrote in the previous part of this article, if ancient Egyptians had been using henna as a hair dye since the Predynastic Period, how is it that there is no mention of this custom in either Egyptian papyri or foreign texts?



Other red dyes used in Egypt
From page 14 (my bold type):

Shortly before the wrapping process, Egyptian embalmers would apply various types of pigments to the deceased: orpiment (arsenic sulfide), yellow ochre and green or black pigments (antimony sulfide or malachite). An "ink" was also used to symbolize the blood of Seth, the enemy whose death promised regeneration. What was this substance composed of? Henna paste does not seem an ideal candidate for replicating the liquid consistency and intense hue of blood. In fact, other Egyptian texts associate the blood of Seth’s allies with red ochre or a mineral known as ss·yt. Consequently, ritual funerary texts make no mention of any plant-based dye being applied to the body. Yet, in the textile industry, red colours were obtained using madder (Rubia tinctorum), safflower (Carthamus tinctorius), or alkanet (Anchusa tinctoria), the latter being used specifically to dye oils and fatty substances red. Could some of the ointments employed in the embalming process have been coloured with this same pigment? It would be worth exploring this question when examining hair or fingernails that are claimed to have been reddened with henna.

The problem with the three plants mentioned above is that they don’t work very well on human hair, and are more suitable for natural fibres (wool, cotton, silk). Rose madder, for example, was used in Egypt since 1500 BC, but it requires a so-called lake, that is, an inert binder (mordant) usually a metallic salt. Safflower, on the contrary, doesn’t require a mordant and is suitable for cotton and silk. As for alkanet (as Renaut himself points out), it can be mixed with oil and today is used as a wood stain. 

Fruits of Lawsonia inermis

The mummy of Asru and the obsession with henna
On page 13 Renaut comments on the study of Asru we have seen in the first part of this article. He too notices that this study doesn’t prove anything and that Egyptologists are obsessed with henna (my bold type). 

In 2001, Charlotte E. Thompson, an English biologist, presented a master's thesis in Manchester entitled Hair and Henna in Ancient Egypt: A Mass Spectrometric Analysis, whose main findings were published in 2003 by two of her colleagues. [here Renaut is referring to the study by David and Garner] [...] Further examinations of the red-coloured section revealed the presence of terpenoids, aromatic organic compounds found in many plants (such as eucalyptus, cinnamon, cloves, cannabis, and conifers), including henna. Thompson concluded that henna was the likely source of the colouring in Asru’s hair. However, based strictly on the analysis results, the identified compounds do not definitively point to henna over other plants.
When faced with hair remains displaying reddish or yellowish hues, archaeologists typically assume henna is the cause.

From page 16 (my bold type):

When it comes to nails and hair, the investigation is still ongoing, and much remains to be done: determining whether changes in colour (in hair and nails) can be attributed to the passage of time or the natural environment; distinguishing such changes from those caused by the application of artificial dyes; cataloguing the various mummification agents used (desiccants, ointments, perfumes, fillers, etc.) and analysing their effects on the pigmentation of nails, hair and skin. By positing a hard-to-find henna as the causa omnium, commentators have significantly narrowed the range of possibilities. Yet, ancient texts offer a wealth of leads, particularly regarding hair colouring. To achieve an auburn hue, henna was merely one option among many. Dioscorides, for instance, recommends onion skins macerated in a solution of nitre, along with buckthorn juice, lotus-wood sawdust and cocklebur. Pliny suggests applying the charred dregs of vinegar mixed with mastic oil. One could also catalogue the various recipes intended to darken hair, or the countless substances applied to the scalp to prevent hair loss. All these products should be considered when examining ancient hair that exhibits changes in tone or structure.
Galen devotes an intriguing passage to the hair care and cosmetic practices of peasant women in Asia Minor, practices that might bring to mind the traditional use of henna in the Maghreb and the Near East. However, a different traditional substance is employed here: for those wishing to conceal gray hair, Galen recommends a preparation known as kedrie, or cedar oil.

Are Egyptologists fooling us?
So, this being the case, how is it possible that Egyptologists continue to repeat like a mantra that ancient Egyptians were used to dye their hair with henna? WHERE did they find this information? Historical research SHOULD be based, first and foremost, on sources, and it seems to me that, in this case, the sources are very clear: henna as a hair dye is nowhere to be found with reference to Egypt.
Furthermore, Egyptologists never explain why the ancient Egyptians (of all ancient peoples) should have developed this supposed passion for henna dyes. Sometimes the deity Seth is brought into the discussion, because his distinctive hue was red, but a god having a distinctive hue doesn’t imply that the worshippers dye their hair of that colour (just think of the blue-skinned gods of ancient India).
Last, but not least, Egyptologists are very careful not to mention that (as I repeated several times in previous articles) dark hair cannot be lightened using plant-based dyes. Lawsonia inermis, thanks to lawsone, can bind to keratin, giving very dark hair reddish or coppery highlights that are visible in sunlight. On dark brown hair, it can produce mahogany or dark red tones, but nothing more. Natural dyes lack any true bleaching capability: they deposit pigments onto the hair, but they do not remove natural melanin and, therefore, cannot lighten the original hair colour. The only hair colours that can take on an appearance similar to natural red hair when dyed exclusively with pure henna are blonde and light brown.
Now, it’s perfectly plausible that a minority of ancient Egyptians had fair hair. The Berbers, for example, are indigenous to the Maghreb, and recent DNA analysis shows that Sub-Saharan ancestry increased in Egypt only on post-Roman periods. However, in spite of this, Egyptologists (and you can easily understand why) prefer saying that all ancient Egyptians had dark hair, dark brown at the very most. So, either they don’t know how henna works, or… they are fooling us. 

The colour xanthòs
There’s one more reason for which I found this research interesting.
In this 2022 article I discussed the Greek adjective xanthòs and its translations. When referred to hair colour, usually translators from Greek use “blond” (for example when referring to the hair of Homer’s heroes), but this is not the only translation possible, and, as a matter of fact, some translators did indeed choose “red” or “auburn”.
Here, Renaut argues that “auburn” would be a more correct translation.

From page 3:

As we have seen, Dioscorides provides a recipe for a henna-leaf preparation intended to turn hair yellow or brown (ξανθίζειν, xanthizein). This verb, ξανθίζειν, xanthizein, corresponds to the adjective ξανθός (xanthòs), which denotes a colour falling somewhere between greenish-yellow and brown. Naturalists sometimes use it to describe a tawny coat or brown plumage, hence the term "auburn" used here. In his Simple Remedies, a lesser-known work, Dioscorides mentions other recipes for achieving a xanthòs hair colour, including "an application of crushed kupros leaves mixed with quince juice." These recipes, including the one involving henna, also appear in the writings of Aëtius, a 6th-century Byzantine physician, who describes them as a way "to make hair red" (pyrrhas poiesai trichas). Pliny, too, refers to crushed cypros leaves mixed with quince juice, noting that they "turn hair reddish" (rufant). The consistent terminology used by both Pliny and Aetius suggests, I believe, that we should favour the interpretation of xanthos as "auburn."

 

One final question
So, what about red-haired mummies of individuals who died at an advanced age (like Asru herself, or Ramesses II) and probably had white hair? If henna is not to be considered, what caused their red hair? Well, obviously, as long as scientists don’t perform a real analysis on their hair, focused on ascertaining the source of the red colour, we will never know. As we have seen, during the mummification several resins were used, along with oils, waxes, etc. It is possible that, over the millennia, the products put on white hair could have given it a reddish hue. Furthermore, it would be useful knowing if, at the moment of unwrapping, the hair colour of these mummies was the same as today. As Renaut put it, much remains to be done.

A detail of Ramesses II's mummy