The Turin king list

The papyrus was lost for some 3000 years, perhaps buried in a forgotten tomb or temple near Thebes in Upper Egypt. Unlike the other king lists of the New Kingdom, it was not produced for religious purposes, but instead as an administrative chronological reference aid, containing the names and reign lengths of the kings of the Two Lands. There is no evidence of any intentional exclusion or supression of kings, as contemporary and ephemeral kings are included, even the foreign kings of the Second Intermediate Period.

The Turin king list is an ancient Egyptian full-size papyrus roll written in hieratic, sadly it is in very poor shape, only one third of the full papyrus remains. Its original use was as a tax-register dating to the reign of Ramesses II (1279–1213 BCE), evident from the text, "Inspector of the wells of rꜤ-msw-mry-imn," i.e. an official during the reign of Ramesses II.^[2] There is a slight possibility that same position still existed during the subsequent reigns of Merneptah and Seti II, providing an approximate date for the papyrus, somewhere in the 1275–1200 BCE range.

Rolls of papyrus were manufactured with the horizontal fibres on the inside, and the vertical fibres on the outside. The natural way to write on papyri, was on the inside of the roll (i.e. along the horizontal fibres), which also served to protect the writing when it was rolled up.^[3] This side is called the recto, or front side.

It was first assumed that the king list was the initial document, however, as the tax-register was written along the horizontal fibres, it naturally must be the original.^[4] So, the tax-register is written on the recto, or front side, with the king list on the verso, or back side. There is no indication as to when the king list was written, whether a few months, years, or even decades later.

The papyrus was likely intact when rediscovered in the late 1810s near Thebes in Egypt; however, the provenance is unknown. Being suddenly exposed to the elements and being handled by human hands after thousands of years in isolation, caused the fragile papyrus to begin to crumble. Bernardino Drovetti, the French Consul-General of Egypt at the time, acquired the papyrus sometime in the 1818–22 timeframe. It is unknown if he personally, or one of his agents bought it. The stories put forth by Maspero and Winlock as to the discovery are likely fabrications created to add some colour to the likely unremarkable discovery.

Drovetti clearly failed to note the importance of the papyrus, and simply stored it in a box together with many other papyri he acquired in Egypt.^[7] As there is no clear provenance of the discovery, the archaeological context is irretrievably lost. Drovetti and his agents amassed a huge collection of Egyptian artefacts, and textual papyri did not receive special care^[8] but were unceremoniously dumped together in a big box by the hundreds. It was, after all, only a papyrus without elaborate drawings of gods and kings. As the European market in Egyptian artefacts was rapidly growing, it was to be sold to the highest bidder.

Drovetti had the antiquities he acquired in Egypt shipped and stored in Livorno already in 1820,^[9] and after France declined to buy his collection, he started negotiations with his native Piedmont. Victor Emmanuel I, the King of Sardinia, showed great interest in the collection, but Drovetti’s asking price of 400,000 lire was an enormous sum for the small kingdom. The negotiations stalled when the king abdicated in favour of his brother Charles Felix. Ultimately, Drovetti accepted the deal, and the king signed the purchase on January 24, 1824.^[10]

The collection included 170 Egyptian papyri,^[11] and was only the first of three collections that he sold.^[12] Transported from storage in Livorno to Genua by sea, from there to Turin by wagons, it arrived in February of 1824. Housed in the Academy of Sciences building, the collection was unpacked immediately and temporarily placed in rooms on the ground floor. The Drovetti collection de facto became the Egyptian Museum of Turin, a detached section of the Museum of Antiquities. Formally inaugurated on June 10, 1824, the Museum was still undergoing planning and construction, but not opened to the public until 1832.

Written right to left, as is usual with hieratic papyri, most lines yield the name of a particular king, followed by a number of years, months and days ruled. Unlike the other king lists, it include the Hyksos kings, ephemeral rulers, and those only ruling over small territories.

The poor state of the papyrus only allows for a mostly conjectural reconstruction, but by close examination of the fibres, as well as comparing the writing on both sides of the papyrus, the placement of the fragments can be determined with a good amount of accuracy. Many of the royal names and their chronological positions originate with this unique and invaluable papyrus.

The Saxon scholar Gustav Seyffarth had developed a flawed hieroglyphic system, where the signs were purely phonetic, which was competing with Champollion’s system. Seyffarth’s system was proven to be incorrect by none other than Champollion himself, a fact which Seyffarth refused acknowledge. It is clear from their correspondence that after meeting in Italy, they soon became enemies, though socially they kept up a civil and courteous façade.

Seyffarth arrived in Turin in late May of 1826,^[18] and immediately began the restoration of the multitudes of papyri in the Drovetti collection, among them the king list.

Champollion might have discovered the fragments, but Seyffarth did the actual work of puzzling all the pieces together into a somewhat cohesive papyrus. His careful consideration of the fibres, coloring, and the writing on the both sides would prove to be crucial, as his arrangement of the fragments resulted in the king list as we know it today.

It was obvious from the start that the fragments of the papyrus were only small parts of a whole text, and to be understood, in need of being reassembled to find a context. This meant examining and sorting through the countless fragments found in the box, from many different papyri, and try to find which fragments belonged to the papyrus.

Seyffarth patiently sorted through the vast pile of fragment debris, examining the scraps one by one, and managed to reunite some fragments so well that they do not appear to have ever been broken, as seen in the facsimiles of Lepsius and Wilkinson. His diligence was rewarded as he found more than 100 fragments neglected or missed by Champollion, who did not go through the debris as thoroughly as he might have.

Champollion claimed that San Quintino hid fragments from him, which was probably only an attempt to mitigate his hurt pride, when confronted with Seyffarth’s superior arrangement.^[20] It is to Seyffarth’s merit that he did not try to restore the papyrus according to his own beliefs about the hieroglyphic system, instead he took a scientific route by matching the fragments according to fibres, colour, thickness, and writing. Seyffarth’s arrangement is exceptional, as subsequent reconstructions show that he positioned most of the fragments in their correct position. In all he restored some fifteen papyri during his time at the Museum.^[21]

When the arrangement was as complete as Seyffarth could make it, he glued the fragments together with blotting paper. Seyffarth did not publish his restoration, but his unpublished tracings of the papyrus is in the archives of the Brooklyn Museum.^[22] Champollion saw Seyffarth as a charlatan.^[23] His opinion of Seyffarth could explain why he did not trust in his arrangement of the papyrus. Add to this that Seyffarth saw Champollion as The Enemy,^[24] and did his best to discredit the Frenchman’s system to anyone that would listen.

When Champollion saw Seyffarth’s arrangement of the papyrus,^[25] instead of acknowledging the accomplishment, he saw only conspiracy and deceit. So much that he accused San Quintino, who was cataloguing Drovetti’s collection at the Museum, of having hidden fragments from him, only to later surrender them to Seyffarth. This claim was circulated in Champollion’s circle of friends, and his brother later reiterated the claim.^[26] Thought it should be noted that the Champollion-San Quintino feud was well known at the time, and the possibility cannot be entirely discarded. San Quintino was making a detailed inventory of the collection for the Academy as it was being unpacked, and it would seem probable, even likely, that after Champollion had examined the pile of papyri debris, his scrutiny resulted in him finding fragments that were neglected or missed by the Frenchman.

Champollion’s death in 1832 did not deter Seyffarth from writing an anecdote about the discovery of the papyrus:

Seyffarth repeated this (likely invented) story of ill will towards Champoillion in his autobiography.^[28] Seyffarth’s enmity towards the Frenchman clearly did not end with Champollion’s passing. The famous Champollion rejecting Seyffarth’s arrangement of the papyrus, caused it to be viewed with circumspect, if not contempt. The support for the Frenchman was almost universal, as he was after all the expert on hieroglyphics, while the views of Seyffarth were incorrect. The rejection was exasperated by Champollion’s untimely death, which reinforced the derision of the arrangement without any objective analysis or investigation. Lest they disagree with the late master, the subject of the papyrus was neglected, even avoided, despite its obvious value to scholars. However, this was about to change—albeit slowly.

The polemic surrounding the arrangement of the papyrus lasted several years, but eventually scholars who took the time to examine the papyrus, realised that the arrangement was indeed very good. The first account in more than a decade was by Samuel Birch of the antiquities department of the British Museum, who held a presentation at the Royal Society detailing his analysis of the king list in November 1841.^[29]

As with most papyri, the provenance of this papyrus roll is uncertain, but indirect evidence point to the Theban necropolis as the likely place of discovery. It is a distinct possibility that it was found in the tomb of a scribe, as the papyrus was reused. However, it is basically just guesswork.

The original document contained a tax-register written sometime during the reign of Ramesses II (1279–1213 BCE), or one of his close successors.^[75] When this tax-record became obsolete, the blank back side was used to add the king list, likely while the papyrus was still somewhat fresh, but a few years to a decade cannot be excluded. It contains the records of every Egyptian king with his exact position in chronological order, from the gods to the mortal kings.

The Turin king list is often referred to as a canon, but that designation implies a selection based on doctrine, which would have suppressed or omitted kings considered illegitimate. The inscribed king lists of Abydos, Saqqara, and Karnak deliberately excluded several rulers and should be classified as canons.

The Turin king list, on the other hand, is a chronological list of kings, with no indications of excluded or suppressed kings. The length of their reigns is included, which is absent from all the other lists, and the chronological order seems to be reliable in most cases. The Royal Canon of Turin is certainly a more distinct name than the Turin king list, however, accuracy is of importance, which is why this website prefer to use the Turin king list.

We can safely assume the reign of Ramesses II as the original date of creation, but this does not necessarily mean the list included any of the kings of the New Kingdom. Early in the Eighteenth Dynasty, the administration likely needed a chronological record of the kingdom for political and/or religious reasons. By associating himself with well-known ancestors, the king asserted and legitimized his right to rule the Two Lands.

Orthographically, the hieratic text also suggests a Nineteenth Dynasty origin, but until carbon dating of the papyrus is performed, we can only estimate a date of creation to sometime during the reign of Ramesses II (c. 1279—1213 BC), making the papyrus more than 3200 years old.

Following the death of Queen Neferusobek (died 1802 BC), the last ruler of the Twelfth Dynasty, the chronology for the next several centuries is sparse, chaotic and confusing, which is why the period is dubbed the SIP. The lack of contemporary records make any specific theory as to the cause highly speculative, but the number of competing dynasties support a weakening of the central government. The records from Manetho show that his records too were a corrupted mess.

This is a clear indication that not even the Egyptians themselves had a clear picture of the events that took place during these troubled times. The records that survived were not always complete, nor fully preserved, making it all but impossible to get a clear picture, which is understandable as the timespan is not mere decades but centuries. Furthermore, Manetho is also susceptible to translation and transcription errors by the non-native epitomists, that could not be expected to correctly interpret the strange and foreign names. The Turin king list preserve a total of 138 kings^[76] after the Twelfth Dynasty, but we are left in the dark as to where it ended.

The palaeography indicates that the signs are similar to other documents from the late Nineteenth or early Twentieth Dynasties. An indispensable source for transcribing hieratic is the Hieratiche Paläographie,^[86] especially volume 2 which concentrates on the hieratic of the New Kingdom. The transcription of the hieratic script is obviously best left to experienced palaeologists who can distinguish and interpret the smallest traces and nuances in the script. Gardiner’s transcription is, as expected, correct, with emendations and clarifications by Ryholt.^[87] The orthography of the names is mostly correct, but a few names were damaged or erroneously copied. The transcription made by Gardiner is as expected, very good, only a few very minor corrections have been suggested by later studies.

The hieratic text consists of 24–31 horizontal lines written in eleven columns, from right to left. The columns are 8–17 cm wide; with a line spacing of about 5 mm, but in columns 2 and 11, it is almost zero.^[88] The first 2½ columns list gods, demigods, and spirits; the remaining 8½, the historical kings.

Roman numerals have been used ever since the facsimiles by Lepsius, but to avoid confusion with the new reconstructions, plain numbers are used. To distinguish text in the papyrus, each column and row of the papyrus is numbered and put in parenthesis, except when used in a table. For example, (4.7) refers to column 4, row 7, which was written as IV 7 in older works.

The historical kings begin with Meni (3.10) and occupy the rest of the papyrus. The number of lines increases as the papyrus nears the end, as the scribe needed to compact the writing to be able to fit all the remaining kings onto the papyrus. The list of kings ends in column 11 with partial names of unidentifiable late Second Intermediate Period kings.

It can be safely assumed that the king list was preceded with some sort of introduction describing the nature of its content, probably including the date and name of the scribe, but unfortunately, the first column is almost entirely lost. The structural similarity (gods⇒spirits⇒mortal kings) with the king lists of Manetho was noted already by Champollion and attempts to reconcile the two has been attempted ever since.

Writing the same text over and over is tedious and unnecessary, the scribes of Egypt had long since learned to use ditto marks for repeating words or sentences. A hieratic ditto mark simply consists of a dot,^[89] and was used in the king list to replace three texts: The name of each king is followed by the text “he acted in kingship” which was only written out at the top of a column, and ditto marks were used below that for the repeating text. Ditto marks were also used for the signs for months, and days, but never for years. Numbers were always written out in full.

The full formula for an entry reads:

Dual King Name. He acted in kingship x years, y months and z days.^[90]
nsw-bit Name ir.n=f m nswyt rnpt x Ꜣbd y hrw z

Using ditto marks, the same line looks like this:

Most likely the source used for the king list was a half-size papyrus since the top rows of columns 4 and 9 contain ditto marks. This means that the scribe made a sign-by-sign copy of the original, not caring that the ditto marks were out of sync with the topmost row, nor that the kingship formula occurs at irregular intervals within the columns.

The list of kings contains a total of 31 rows with ditto-marks.

Red ink (Latin: Rubra) was used to highlight some words on rows concerning the historical kings, except 1.21 which belong to the section of gods. The only royal title that is written in red ink is for Djoser, doubtless due to his good reputation in later times. Red ink was also used on the unplaced Fr. 4.

There are six headings and ten summations in the king list, which divide it into five sections. The first four summations suggest that different sources were used to gather the data, rather than any historical division by the Egyptians themselves. To them the line of kings was uninterrupted. However, the dynastic divisions were likely invented during the Ptolemaic Dynasty a millennia later, as Manetho divided the periods covered in the papyrus into nineteen dynasties. Furthermore, the two Intermediate Periods are modern definitions of the breakdown of the Old and the Middle Kingdoms.

The dynasties of Egypt as we know them were clearly not defined by the time of the New Kingdom, it seems to be a later invention during the Ptolemaic Period. The headings and summations divide the papyrus into sections similar to the dynasties of Manetho, however, there are only eleven clear divisions, or dynasties, not nineteen as would be expected. By the time of Manetho, the list of kings had evolved and been divided into better defined periods.

Most numbers found in the king list, follow after the name of a specific king, detailing the length of his reign. Numbers are also found in summations, but not in headings. The numbers in summations specify the number of kings, the length that particular group of kings reigned, and totals calculated where multiple groupings are summed up. The reliability of the totals in the summations is impossible to assess, as no section of the papyrus preserves all the individual reign-lengths.

The papyrus is arranged into two parts: mythological and historical kings. The mythological part can further be divided into three sections: gods, demigods, and spirits, as per Manetho. The historical part is a sequence of kings that are arranged chronologically, with headings and summations at irregular intervals. The headings provide the name of the founder, after which each king is listed, followed by a summation that calculates the number of kings and the duration of their reigns.

The headings and summations divide the papyrus into sections similar to the dynasties of Manetho, however, there are only eleven clear divisions or dynasties, not nineteen as would be expected.

The historical king list can be divided into six sections, each starting with a heading, naming the founder and from where the kings ruled. Following this is a sequential list of kings and their reign length, one per line, and lastly, a summation of the section, where the duration and the number of kings are calculated. There are only six headings, but ten summations, some of which obviously have no corresponding heading, effectively yielding ten distinct periods (see Table 5.)

It is tempting to equate those ten periods with the dynasties of Manetho, and while there are general similarities, dynasties 1–10 appears as one heading and four summations in the papyrus. However, better-defined dynasties had likely appeared in the tradition by the time of Manetho, a millennium later.

Only a few fragments remain of the mythological section of the papyrus, presumably detailing gods, demigods, and spirits. The mythological kings mentioned by Manetho^[99] were likely present at the beginning of the papyrus, as the names of Gods are found in the first column, probably describing the Great Ennead. Most of this section is sadly almost entirely lost.

The historical kings begin with Meni of the First Dynasty, and continue to the end of the Second Intermediate Period, where the papyrus is in tatters, and only a few small fragments survive. While there are no information about the gender in the king list, Manetho explicitly refers to several female rulers, meaning there must have existed some sort of traditional lists where the gender was included. Only one female ruler has been identified in the king list, Sobekneferu (7.2), but with no indication of gender.

On each line, the title nsw-bit (the Dual King) precedes the king’s prenomen enclosed in a cartouche, followed by the divine determinative,^[100] indicating their divinity. It remains unknown why the recorded names in the New Kingdom king lists are not always the expected prenomen. The early dynasties use of the nebty name is understandable, as the kings of that period did not use prenomina, as is the scribe adding the nomen into the cartouche of kings with the same prenomen, presumably to distinguish them from each other. This inconsistency is also present in Manetho, where most recorded names use the Greek form of the prenomen, but a few use the nomen instead. There is evidence of hypercorrection of the royal names over time, that is, by adding the ubiquitous divine -ra to their name. The variations of the recorded names in the king list can be found in Table 7.

The recording of the names of the kings is inconsistent throughout the papyrus, likely due to gathering information from multiple sources (see 0). There is no mention of concurrent dynasties, coregency, ethnicity, gender, reputation, or any other secondary criterion. The only exceptions are two kings of the Thirteenth Dynasty that include the names of their fathers.^[101]

The G7-sign “Horus/falcon on a standard”, is a determinative/logogram for ’king’ or ’god,’ and often placed within the cartouche to emphasize a royal name, but also immediately adjacent behind the cartouche.

Table 7: Variations of the kings name

	Prenomen in a cartouche Passim
	Nomen in a cartouche 5.10, 5.21, 7.2, 7.7, 7.9, 7.15-16, 9.1, 9.10, 9.13-15, 11.5-6
	Prenomen and nomen in the same cartouche 7.19, 7.20, 7.23-25, 7.28, 8.2, 8.5-6
	Prenomen and nomen in their own cartouches 5.23, 8.7-8
	Prenomen in a cartouche, nomen no cartouche 5.7-8, 7.21-22, 8.22-23, 9.25?, 9.26-28

The king’s name was followed by a formula indicating the reign length.

ir.n=f m nsw.yt
“he acted in kingship”

This formula followed immediately after a kings name, followed by the length of reign, near the end of each row, like a spreadsheet. These numbers were arranged in columns, leaving empty space between the king’s name and the reign. Despite the lack of ditto-marks, this is a clear indication that the formula was implied, but not written.

Accounting for the 61 rows that does not concern the dynastic kings, we have the rows of column 1 (25) and 2 (26), plus the first nine of column 3. The blank 3.14 that is a long row from column 2 still needs to be counted here, bringing the number of excluded rows to 61. Adding the 241 rows of table 8 above, we arrive at 302—the total number of rows.

The length of reign is recorded in two ways: years, months, and days, or round years alone. The variation is due to the sources used to collect the information. In the modern studies, the cursive hieratic has been read as these variants: , probably due to the cursive nature of hieratic, or a careless scribe.
To be consistent, the ligature is presumed to be  rnpt-ḥsb (regnal years).^[102] The older interpretations ḥꜢt-sp and rnpt-sp are no longer regarded as correct, but the matter is not entirely settled.

The ages of the early kings (3.11–4.5) are recorded after their reign lengths, by the formula:

This formula was likely derived from Source A, detailing kings of the first two dynasties only. There are no indications that the other sources held this information. However, the ages should be viewed with due scepticism, as they seem uncommonly high for the times.

As can be expected, it is impossible to assess the credibility of the reigns attributed in the papyrus. The quality of the sources used to compile the reigns are unknown, and as a result, the reliability of the numbers is impossible to quantify. The uncertainty of the reign-lengths of even well-attested kings makes assessing the numbers an impossible task. A mathematical error produced at any time during the multiple sources, and their copies, could have remained undetected, and impossible to correct.

Most figures found in the king list, follow after the name of a specific king, detailing the length of his reign. Numbers are also found in summations, but not in headings. The numbers in summations specify the number of kings, the length that particular group of kings reigned, and totals calculated where multiple groupings are summed up. The reliability of the totals in the summations is impossible to assess, as no section of the papyrus preserves all the individual reign-lengths. The total for the individual reign-lengths is calculated in Table 10 below.

Several times the scribe miscalculated the length of entries so that they encroached the next column he would write. This forced the starting point of the particular line to move to the left compared to the rest of the column. To separate the entries, he drew lines around the text that infringed upon the new column, and then continued the writing of the new column. This is evident in at least four places (2.16/3.14, 5.16/6.15, 7.3/8.4, and 8.3/9.4,) and possibly also on framents 4 and 147.^[103]

The inconsistent details provided about the individual kings are more apparent in the older parts of the document. This is hardly surprising since the ancient sources used must have survived conflicts, fire, flooding, and other hardships for up to a thousand years. The accuracy of records from such a remote time would naturally be circumspect, and not entirely reliable. Over the millennia, sporadic copying errors would undoubtedly have occurred, which would have permutated the original texts, causing some kings and information about their reigns to be lost. Each subsequent copy also compounded the errors, and ultimately resulted in a somewhat inaccurate duplicate of a duplicate etc.

The age of Kakau (3.21) was left blank, perhaps by simple omission. The cartouche open is missing from the records of Sneferka (3.25), Nebka (4.4), and Snoferu (4.9). The summation of Dynasty XVI (11.15) preserve the number of kings as 5, while there are 15 entries (10.31 to 11.14), probably due to a scribal error.

Several notations of – wsf (meaning gap or ‘lacuna’) were present on a vorlage of the papyrus and used where a part of the source text was missing or unreadable, including names, dates, or reigns.^[104] A lost lacuna notation for the missing ten kings found in the Abydos Canon (41-50) is missing following Netiqerty (5.7), which is corroborated by the lacuna notations in summations 2 (5.15) and 3 (5.16). The next immediate names are corrupted, nfr-kꜢ ẖrd-snb (5.8), nfr-kꜢ (5.9), and nfr (5.10) which suggest that there was a larger lacuna in the sources, and the scribe did not realize that the lacuna notation included more than one king.

A lacuna notation, presumably for Mentuhotep IV, in the summation of the Eleventh Dynasty (6.18), can only mean that another notation is itself lost in lacuna at the end of the entry for Mentuhotep III (6.17). The lacuna notation after sḫm-kꜢ-rꜤ (7.6) account for Nerikara, whose name is absent in the king list.^[105] There is a lacuna notation for the number of months in the reigns of Ꜣw-ib-rꜤ (9.12), and sw-wsr-rꜤ (11.8). It is impossible to determine if the notation after nb-sn-rꜤ (9.14) included one or more kings.

The kings of the Archaic Period did not use a nomen or prenomen, which caused problems in later periods. The solution was to assign new names to these ancient kings. The other New Kingdom king lists contain the same names, suggesting canonization at an earlier date, however, none of these names is orthographically correct according to contemporary attestations. The changes range from slight to unrecognizable. Toward the end of the Archaic Period kings, a lacuna is preserved in the name Hudjefa.^[106] The scarce remains of the papyrus make in unclear to what extent corrupted names occurred, especially in the older parts.

Some signs were simply misread or erroneously copied by the scribe, resulting in a slightly corrupted name, as can be seen in several places. For example, an O29-sign was incorrectly copied as a V30-sign in (9.27), resulting in the name Nebnati, which is a mistake for Anati. It is unsurprising and quite expected that there would be several errors in such a long text. The scribe was rather careless at times; several names have the sun-disc added after the cartouche open. This was likely done automatically as he wrote the nsw-bit title, and failed to notice his error.^[107]

There is evidence to suggest that kings were interchanged on at least one and possibly two occasions. The highest attested year of Pepi I (mry-rꜤ) is 25, and the highest year of Nemtyemsaf I (mr.n-rꜤ) is 5. The names in (5.3) and (5.4) are lost, but the years are recorded as 20 and 44 respectively, suggesting that the rows were interchanged. Both names use the signs mr and rꜤ, and the kings were probably simply interchanged by the scribe.

Sobkhotep I (7.19) and Wegaf (7.5) would have been recorded more or less across from each other in adjacent columns in Vorlage E. Their names share the elements ḥw, tꜢwy and rꜤ, suggesting that the similar names may have been interchanged by the scribe.

There is no evidence suggesting that any kings were deliberately omitted from the king list. Prehistoric kings might have been included among the "spirits" preceding the historical kings, but since no names are preserved, it will remain unknown. Though there are no imaginary kings, Mentuhotep I (6.12) did not adopt royal titles during his lifetime, these were awarded posthumously by his successors. Part of his (severely damaged) name is preserved in the Karnak Canon (12), alongside the Horus name tpy-Ꜥ.^[108] Neferkasokar (4.1) is unlikely to be historical, as there are no contemporary attestations of his name. Whether the name is fictious, or a false etymology of an unidentifiable name remain unknown.^[109]

As can be expected, it is impossible to assess the credibility of the reigns attributed in the papyrus. The quality of the sources used to compile the reigns are unknown, and as a result, the reliability of the numbers is impossible to quantify. The uncertainty of the reign-lengths of even well-attested kings makes assessing the numbers an impossible task. A mathematical error produced at any time during the multiple sources, and their copies, could have remained undetected, and impossible to correct.

There are a number of fragments that cannot be placed with certainty. Evidence is needed to corroborate their correct position, either by fibre corroboration, or consideration of the text on the recto. Some have had their position changed over time, as more thorough examinations of the papyrus were undertaken, but many still remain unplaced because their position can not be determined conclusively.

Giulio Farina, the director of the Turin Museum from 1928, together with papyrus conservation specialist Hugo Ibscher, began restoration of the papyrus in July 1930. Ibscher detached the 164 fragments from the blotting paper on which Seyffarth had glued them, and rearranged the fragments taking careful note of the fibres. Some fragments that did not belong to the papyrus were naturally removed; and some that had previously been impossible to reunite (probably from inv. no. 281), were added as matching fibres were established. The reassembly caused some minor damage along the edges and many minute signs or traces of signs were lost on some fragments, making the facsimiles of Lepsius and Wilkinson all that more important, as they preserve signs that are now lost.

To protect the papyrus, the fragments were placed between two glass panes in three separate frames. Over the next few years, Farina sorted through the unpublished fragments held at the museum, tweaking the positions of the fragments, until he was satisfied with the final arrangement in October of 1934.

Gardiner’s examination discarded 25 fragments as belonging to other papyri, while 15 fragments were classified as useless or doubtful, and another twelve as completely blank; they were not commented on further, and supposedly belong to the papyrus. Five fragments only contain traces, while another five only hold the sign for year, or part of the king’s title. In all, Gardiner retained 102 numbered fragments^[110] on his plates, plus ten unnumbered fragments marked by question marks, added to Seyffarth’s original sheets by Ibscher or Farina.^[111] These ten unnumbered fragments are referenced by Gardiner’s position.

The museum have an unknown number of unpublished fragments with parts of royal names of both kings and gods, figures relating to the reigns, and parts of headings and summations.

Determining possible positions for the unplaced fragments require an exhaustive examination looking for any fibre correspondence with the already placed fragments. Until a full investigation of the fragments can be undertaken, progress is only possible in small increments.

Ryholt suggested that a twelfth column was removed in ancient times; presumably to reuse the blank recto side.^[112] This is further corroborated by the fact that sheet 1 is less than half the width of the other papyrus sheets. However, as discussed earlier above, the outer sheet of the papyrus roll was likely trimmed before being reused for the king list. It is uncertain whether the king list was a direct copy of the information on an older papyrus that needed to be preserved or an updated version that included later kings not present in the original.

The cut-off part, as per Ryholt, would presumably have held the names of the kings of the Seventeenth through Nineteenth dynasties. The exact number is uncertain, probably about 25 (see Table 15, it is obviously unknown how many would have been present in a twelfth column.). Some kings of the proposed Abydos Dynasty might also have been present, depending on the number of NK kings, and how elaborate the headings and summations were. Adding these kings, or perhaps only some of them, the complete papyrus would have included some 330 rows with close to 250 kings.

The estimated number of rulers between the late Second Intermediate Period, from the Seventeenth through the New Kingdom is somewhat uncertain, as we do not know the exact number of rulers. The number of kings depends on the Egyptologist consulted, ranging from 8 to 15 for the Seventeenth Dynasty alone. Furthermore, the exact succession of the Late Amarna Period is still unclear, the exact number of rulers and their positions remain uncertain.

The transmission, or lineage of the descendants to the original manuscript, suggest the following:

1. It is unknown when the source document containing the ‘first’ list of kings was created, but likely sometime during the New Kingdom. We designate this as Vorlage A. This is the original document from which all other
2. From this original, a direct copy was made, designated Vorlage B. This copy suffered damage, and part of the text was lost, or became unreadable.
3. This prompted another copy, Vorlage C, with the damaged parts marked with Lacuna notations ( - wsf ), meaning unreadable or lost.
4. A diligent scribe noticed that there were chronological gaps, and his copy, Vorlage D, emended the lacuna notations by adding 6 years to the gaps.
5. Vorlage E was a direct copy of Vorlage D, but on a half-size papyrus. The kingship formula was used for the first king of each dynasty and at the top of each column, while repetition marks were used in the entries following below.
6. The king list is a literatim copy of Vorlage E, but on a full-size papyrus.

There are a total of 301 rows accounted for in the king list. Note that 3.14 should be discounted (see below), bringing the number to an even 300.
Let us take a look at where the kingship formulas appear:

Now for the partial formula, i.e. where the initial ir.n is preserved, we have:

Formula expected, but lost/missing:

The pattern of the kingship formulas is quite obvious (especially between 4.5—9.20), appearing every 14-15 rows, suggesting the column height of Vorlage E. The Turin king list is a direct copy of Vorlage E, but on a full-size papyrus. This means that the number of rows in Vorlage E should be roughly the half of that of the king list which is a full-size papyrus.

From 4.5 to 8.3 there are 8 kingship formulas appearing every 14-15 rows. This means that that the preceding columns in Vorlage E should have a maximum of 14 rows per column. Assuming that the top rows of each column in Vorlage E contained the full kingship formula, we can extrapolate the number of rows between the known formulas.

The number of rows from 1.1 to 4.4, i.e. before the kingship formula in 4.5, is 79 (Column 1: 25, Column 2: 26, Column 3: 24, and Column 4: 4). Six columns each with 14 rows yield a total of 84 rows, which is five too many. That means that for the numbers to add up, five columns could only have held 13 rows, and one with 14. Note that 3.14 is delineated with a sort of bracket that enclose the end of the row to differentiate that it belongs to the entry of previous column. To the right of 3.14 in Vorlage E would have been a long 2.26, which was copied by the scribe as it appeared. Starting a new column, the scribe miscalculated the length of Vorlage E row 2.26 by not leaving enough horizontal space, as it would intrude on 3.14.

When 3.14 was reached, a sort of bracket was written around the end of the intruding row (as can also be seen in 5.16 and 8.3) and the king list then continued on the next row. Unlike 5.16 and 8.3, the scribe did not add a king on 3.14, perhaps because he had not yet realized that space would be a problem later on in the king list.

Putting it all together we get:

Adding the headings, summations and ditto marked rows to the layout, the complete king list looks like this:

With the marking of the different types of rows complete we now have a visual overview of the king list. When we rearrange the king list into 21 columns according to Vorlage E, the symmetrical pattern graciously become obvious:

Apart from the piece cut off in antiquity, the papyrus was presumably intact upon its discovery and only subsequently fell to pieces owing to the rough handling. It now consists of more than 300 fragments. Seyffarth pasted the fragments onto papier végétal in 1826, but this was removed and remounted/reconstructed in 1930 by Hugo Ibscher and Farina also handled the fragments in the subsequent years.^[116] However, the papyrus suffered evident damage during this process, as can be seen when comparing it to the facsimiles of Lepsius and Wilkinson; the photographs shows that numerous fragments were damaged along the edges and that many signs along the edges were lost in the process. This makes the facsimiles that more important as they preserve signs that are lost today.

There are still a number of important fragments whose exact position has not been established, and numerous smaller fragments, mostly very small, have never been published at all. Among the unpublished fragments are parts of royal names of both historical rulers and gods, figures relating to reigns of kings, and parts of headings and summations.^[117]

In September 2019, the Museo Egizio made high-quality photographs of the papyrus available online.^[118] Unfortunately, the photos only show the fragments as arranged by Farina (in three panels), and does not include Gardiner's unplaced fragments, nor any of the unpublished ones. Hopefully, these will be added at a later date. Still, these photos (including the recto!) are an incredible improvement over the previous photos published by Farina some 80 years ago.

The papyrus is descibed in two nineteenth century catalogues of the Museum, and was still considered to be the original document at the time.

The official Museum inventory number is Cat. 1874, from the 1882 catalogue.