The dead king
From Abydos to every coffin
Osiris is first named in officials' offering prayers of the mid-Fifth Dynasty and first spoken of at length in the Pyramid Texts, carved inside the pyramids of the late Fifth and Sixth Dynasties from about 2350 BC; by then his story is already assumed: struck down by his brother, found lying on the bank at Nedyt, mourned by his sisters, raised up by his son. The texts do not tell it; they use it. The dead king is addressed as “Osiris Unas”, and everything done for the god is done for him: he is washed, his bones are gathered, his mouth is opened, and Horus sets him on his throne.
That is what Osiris was for. Egypt had many gods of the sky and few of the dead, and Osiris was the one who had died and come through. In the Old Kingdom the pattern belonged to the king alone; in the Middle Kingdom it spread down the ranks, and by the New Kingdom anyone who could afford a coffin was “the Osiris so-and-so” in the inscriptions, the name a title of the justified dead. The god is drawn accordingly: a mummy in white wrappings, hands crossed on the chest holding a king's crook and flail, face green like young grain or black like Nile silt, and on his head the tall white crown of Upper Egypt between two ostrich plumes.
The judge
The hall of the two truths
From the Middle Kingdom the dead had to be judged before they could join him. The Book of the Dead, spell 125, shows the scene. Anubis leads the dead man into the Hall of the Two Truths, or of Justice, where forty-two assessors sit and Osiris presides on his throne under a canopy, with Isis and Nephthys behind him. The heart is set on one pan of a balance and the feather of Maat, truth, on the other; Thoth records the result, and the Devourer, part crocodile, part lion, part hippopotamus, waits for a heart that is heavy. Those who pass are declared “true of voice” and go to the Field of Reeds, where the grain grows tall and the dead reap it.
Hail to you, great god, Lord of Justice! I have come to you, my lord, that you may bring me so that I may see your beauty, for I know you and I know your name …
The declaration that follows, that the speaker has not killed, not stolen, not held back the water in its season, not been deaf to words of truth, is the nearest thing Egypt left to a moral code, and it was said to Osiris.
The grain and the flood
Abydos, Khoiak and the corn mummy
Osiris is also what comes back. He was tied to the Nile flood, which returned each summer as he did, and to the grain that is cut down, buried and sprouts. In the month of Khoiak, when the flood had gone down and sowing began, his death and restoration were acted out. At Abydos, where the tomb of the First Dynasty king Djer was pointed out as his from the Middle Kingdom on, his image was carried out in procession, his enemies beaten back in a mock battle at Nedyt and the god brought home to his temple; Ikhernofret, an official of Senwosret III, describes his part in it on a stela of about 1850 BC. In the temples, priests moulded figures of Osiris from earth and barley and watered them until they sprouted; a corn Osiris of this kind lay in the tomb of Tutankhamun, and at the festival's end the djed pillar, his backbone, was hauled upright to show that he stood again.
The story also travelled. Herodotus, in the fifth century BC, saw in Osiris his own Dionysus, a god who was torn apart; under the Ptolemies he was joined with the Apis bull of Memphis as Serapis, whose temple at Alexandria was among the great sanctuaries of the Greek world. Plutarch, early in the second century AD, put the whole myth into Greek for a priestess of Delphi, and it is in his version, not in any Egyptian text, that the story survives from beginning to end.