[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. A statue of the hawk-god Horus in front of the temple of Edfu. The author stands beside it. ]

 [_Photo by N. Macnaghten. _

 The Treasury of Ancient Egypt

 Miscellaneous Chapters on Ancient Egyptian History and Archæology

 BY

 ARTHUR E. P. B. WEIGALL

 INSPECTOR-GENERAL OF UPPER EGYPT, DEPARTMENT OF ANTIQUITIES

 AUTHOR OF 'TRAVELS IN THE UPPER EGYPTIAN DESERTS, ' 'THE LIFE AND TIMES OF AKHNATON, PHARAOH OF EGYPT, ' 'A GUIDE TO THE ANTIQUITIES OF UPPER EGYPT, ' ETC. , ETC. 

 RAND McNALLY & COMPANY CHICAGO AND NEW YORK 1912

 _TO

 ALAN H. GARDINER, ESQ. , M. A. , D. LITT. 

 LAYCOCK STUDENT OF EGYPTOLOGY AT WORCESTER COLLEGE, OXFORD, THIS BOOK, WHICH WILL RECALL SOME SUMMER NIGHTS UPON THE THEBAN HILLS, IS DEDICATED. _

 PREFACE. 

No person who has travelled in Egypt will require to be told that it isa country in which a considerable amount of waiting and waste of timehas to be endured. One makes an excursion by train to see some ruins, and, upon returning to the station, the train is found to be late, andan hour or more has to be dawdled away. Crossing the Nile in arowing-boat the sailors contrive in one way or another to prolong thejourney to a length of half an hour or more. The excursion steamer willrun upon a sandbank, and will there remain fast for a part of the day. 

The resident official, travelling from place to place, spends a greatdeal of time seated in railway stations or on the banks of the Nile, waiting for his train or his boat to arrive; and he has, therefore, agreat deal of time for thinking. I often try to fill in these drearyperiods by jotting down a few notes on some matter which has recentlybeen discussed, or registering and elaborating arguments which havechanced lately to come into the thoughts. These notes are shaped and"written up" when next there is a spare hour, and a few books to referto; and ultimately they take the form of articles or papers, some ofwhich find their way into print. 

This volume contains twelve chapters, written at various times and invarious places, each dealing with some subject drawn from the greattreasury of Ancient Egypt. Some of the chapters have appeared asarticles in magazines. Chapters iv. , v. , and viii. Were published in'Blackwood's Magazine'; chapter vii. In 'Putnam's Magazine' and the'Pall Mall Magazine'; and chapter ix. In the 'Century Magazine. ' I haveto thank the editors for allowing me to reprint them here. The remainingseven chapters have been written specially for this volume. 

 LUXOR, UPPER EGYPT, _November_ 1910. 

 CONTENTS. 

 PART I. --THE VALUE OF THE TREASURY. 

 CHAP. PAGE I. THE VALUE OF ARCHÆOLOGY 3

 II. THE EGYPTIAN EMPIRE 26

 III. THE NECESSITY OF ARCHÆOLOGY TO THE GAIETY OF THE WORLD 55

 PART II. --STUDIES IN THE TREASURY. 

 IV. THE TEMPERAMENT OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS 81

 V. THE MISFORTUNES OF WENAMON 112

 VI. THE STORY OF THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR 138

 PART III. --RESEARCHES IN THE TREASURY. 

 VII. RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN EGYPT 165

 VIII. THE TOMB OF TIY AND AKHNATON 185

 IX. THE TOMB OF HOREMHEB 209

 PART IV. --THE PRESERVATION OF THE TREASURY. 

 X. THEBAN THIEVES 239

 XI. THE FLOODING OF LOWER NUBIA 262*

 XII. ARCHÆOLOGY IN THE OPEN 281**

* Transcriber's note: Original text incorrectly lists page number "261". **Transcriber's note: Original text incorrectly lists page number "282". 

 ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 PLATE PAGE

 A STATUE OF THE HAWK-GOD HORUS IN FRONT OF THE TEMPLE OF EDFU. THE AUTHOR STANDS BESIDE IT _Frontispiece_

 I. THE MUMMY OF RAMESES II. OF DYNASTY XIX. 10

 II. WOOD AND ENAMEL JEWEL-CASE DISCOVERED IN THE TOMB OF YUAA AND TUAU. AN EXAMPLE OF THE FURNITURE OF ONE OF THE BEST PERIODS OF ANCIENT EGYPTIAN ART 17

 III. HEAVY GOLD EARRINGS OF QUEEN TAUSERT OF DYNASTY XX. AN EXAMPLE OF THE WORK OF ANCIENT EGYPTIAN GOLDSMITHS 22

 IV. IN THE PALM-GROVES NEAR SAKKÂRA, EGYPT 36

 V. THE MUMMY OF SETY I. OF DYNASTY XIX. 48

 VI. A RELIEF UPON THE SIDE OF THE SARCOPHAGUS OF ONE OF THE WIVES OF KING MENTUHOTEP III. , DISCOVERED AT DÊR EL BAHRI (THEBES). THE ROYAL LADY IS TAKING SWEET-SMELLING OINTMENT FROM AN ALABASTER VASE. A HANDMAIDEN KEEPS THE FLIES AWAY WITH A BIRD'S-WING FAN. 62

 VII. LADY ROUGING HERSELF: SHE HOLDS A MIRROR AND ROUGE-POT 71

 DANCING GIRL TURNING A BACK SOMERSAULT 71

 VIII. TWO EGYPTIAN BOYS DECKED WITH FLOWERS AND A THIRD HOLDING A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT. THEY ARE STANDING AGAINST THE OUTSIDE WALL OF THE DENDEREH TEMPLE 82

 IX. A GARLAND OF LEAVES AND FLOWERS DATING FROM ABOUT B. C. 1000. IT WAS PLACED UPON THE NECK OF A MUMMY 94

 X. A RELIEF OF THE SAITIC PERIOD, REPRESENTING AN OLD MAN PLAYING UPON A HARP, AND A WOMAN BEATING A DRUM. OFFERINGS OF FOOD AND FLOWERS ARE PLACED BEFORE THEM 100

 XI. AN EGYPTIAN NOBLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH DYNASTY HUNTING BIRDS WITH A BOOMERANG AND DECOYS. HE STANDS IN A REED-BOAT WHICH FLOATS AMIDST THE PAPYRUS CLUMPS, AND A CAT RETRIEVES THE FALLEN BIRDS. IN THE BOAT WITH HIM ARE HIS WIFE AND SON 108

 XII. A REED BOX FOR HOLDING CLOTHING, DISCOVERED IN THE TOMB OF YUAA AND TUAU 118

 XIII. A FESTIVAL SCENE OF SINGERS AND DANCERS FROM A TOMB-PAINTING OF DYNASTY XVII. 133

 XIV. A SAILOR OF LOWER NUBIA AND HIS SON 144

 XV. A NILE BOAT PASSING THE HILLS OF THEBES 159

 XVI. THE EXCAVATIONS ON THE SITE OF THE CITY OF ABYDOS 166

 XVII. EXCAVATING THE OSIREION AT ABYDOS. A CHAIN OF BOYS HANDING UP BASKETS OF SAND TO THE SURFACE 175

 XVIII. THE ENTRANCE OF THE TOMB OF QUEEN TIY, WITH EGYPTIAN POLICEMAN STANDING BESIDE IT. ON THE LEFT IS THE LATER TOMB OF RAMESES X. 186

 XIX. TOILET-SPOONS OF CARVED WOOD, DISCOVERED IN TOMBS OF THE EIGHTEENTH DYNASTY. THAT ON THE RIGHT HAS A MOVABLE LID 192

 XX. THE COFFIN OF AKHNATON LYING IN THE TOMB OF QUEEN TIY 207

 XXI. HEAD OF A GRANITE STATUE OF THE GOD KHONSU, PROBABLY DATING FROM ABOUT THE PERIOD OF HOREMHEB 217

 XXII. THE MOUTH OF THE TOMB OF HOREMHEB AT THE TIME OF ITS DISCOVERY. THE AUTHOR IS SEEN EMERGING FROM THE TOMB AFTER THE FIRST ENTRANCE HAD BEEN EFFECTED. ON THE HILLSIDE THE WORKMEN ARE GROUPED 229

 XXIII. A MODERN THEBAN FELLAH-WOMAN AND HER CHILD 240

 XXIV. A MODERN GOURNAWI BEGGAR 250

 XXV. THE ISLAND AND TEMPLES OF PHILÆ WHEN THE RESERVOIR IS EMPTY 269

 XXVI. A RELIEF REPRESENTING QUEEN TIY, FROM THE TOMB OF USERHAT AT THEBES. THIS RELIEF WAS STOLEN FROM THE TOMB, AND FOUND ITS WAY TO THE BRUSSELS MUSEUM, WHERE IT IS SHOWN IN THE DAMAGED CONDITION SEEN IN PL. XXVII. 282

 XXVII. A RELIEF REPRESENTING QUEEN TIY, FROM THE TOMB OF USERHAT, THEBES. (SEE PL. XXVI. ) 293

 PART I

 THE VALUE OF THE TREASURY. 

 "History no longer shall be a dull book. It shall walk incarnate in every just and wise man. You shall not tell me by languages and titles a catalogue of the volumes you have read. You shall make me feel what periods you have lived. A man shall be the Temple of Fame. He shall walk, as the poets have described that goddess, in a robe painted all over with wonderful events and experiences.... He shall be the priest of Pan, and bring with him into humble cottages the blessing of the morning stars, and all the recorded benefits of heaven and earth. " EMERSON. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 THE VALUE OF ARCHÆOLOGY. 

The archæologist whose business it is to bring to light by pick andspade the relics of bygone ages, is often accused of devoting hisenergies to work which is of no material profit to mankind at thepresent day. Archæology is an unapplied science, and, apart from itsconnection with what is called culture, the critic is inclined to judgeit as a pleasant and worthless amusement. There is nothing, the critictells us, of pertinent value to be learned from the Past which will beof use to the ordinary person of the present time; and, though thearchæologist can offer acceptable information to the painter, to thetheologian, to the philologist, and indeed to most of the followers ofthe arts and sciences, he has nothing to give to the ordinary layman. 

In some directions the imputation is unanswerable; and when theinterests of modern times clash with those of the past, as, for example, in Egypt where a beneficial reservoir has destroyed the remains of earlydays, there can be no question that the recording of the threatenedinformation and the minimising of the destruction, is all that thevalue of the archæologist's work entitles him to ask for. The critic, however, usually overlooks some of the chief reasons that archæology cangive for even this much consideration, reasons which constitute itsmodern usefulness; and I therefore propose to point out to him three orfour of the many claims which it may make upon the attention of thelayman. 

In the first place it is necessary to define the meaning of the term"Archæology. " Archæology is the study of the facts of ancient historyand ancient lore. The word is applied to the study of all ancientdocuments and objects which may be classed as antiquities; and thearchæologist is understood to be the man who deals with a period forwhich the evidence has to be excavated or otherwise discovered. The ageat which an object becomes an antiquity, however, is quite undefined, though practically it may be reckoned at a hundred years; and ancienthistory is, after all, the tale of any period which is not modern. Thusan archæologist does not necessarily deal solely with the remote ages. 

Every chronicler of the events of the less recent times who goes to theoriginal documents for his facts, as true historians must do during atleast a part of their studies, is an archæologist; and, conversely, every archæologist who in the course of his work states a series ofhistorical facts, becomes an historian. Archæology and history areinseparable; and nothing is more detrimental to a noble science thanthe attitude of certain so-called archæologists who devote their entiretime to the study of a sequence of objects without proper considerationfor the history which those objects reveal. Antiquities are the relicsof human mental energy; and they can no more be classified withoutreference to the minds which produced them than geological specimens canbe discussed without regard to the earth. There is only one thing worsethan the attitude of the archæologist who does not study the story ofthe periods with which he is dealing, or construct, if only in histhoughts, living history out of the objects discovered by him; and thatis the attitude of the historian who has not familiarised himself withthe actual relics left by the people of whom he writes, or has not, whenpossible, visited their lands. There are many "archæologists" who do notcare a snap of the fingers for history, surprising as this may appear;and there are many historians who take no interest in manners andcustoms. The influence of either is pernicious. 

It is to be understood, therefore, that in using the word Archæology Iinclude History: I refer to history supplemented and aggrandised by thestudy of the arts, crafts, manners, and customs of the period underconsideration. 

As a first argument the value of archæology in providing a precedent forimportant occurrences may be considered. Archæology is the structure ofancient history, and it is the voice of history which tells us that aCretan is always a Cretan, and a Jew always a Jew. History, then, maywell take her place as a definite asset of statecraft, and the law ofPrecedent may be regarded as a fundamental factor in internationalpolitics. What has happened before may happen again; and it is the handof the archæologist that directs our attention to the affairs andcircumstances of olden times, and warns us of the possibilities of theirrecurrence. It may be said that the statesman who has ranged in thefront of his mind the proven characteristics of the people with whom heis dealing has a perquisite of the utmost importance. 

Any archæologist who, previous to the rise of Japan during the latterhalf of the nineteenth century, had made a close study of the history ofthat country and the character of its people, might well have predictedunerringly its future advance to the position of a first-class power. The amazing faculty of imitation displayed by the Japanese in old timeswas patent to him. He had seen them borrow part of their arts, theirsciences, their crafts, their literature, their religion, and many oftheir customs from the Chinese; and he might have been aware that theywould likewise borrow from the West, as soon as they had intercoursewith it, those essentials of civilisation which would raise them totheir present position in the world. To him their fearlessness, theirtenacity, and their patriotism, were known; and he was so well aware oftheir powers of organisation, that he might have foreseen the rapiddevelopment which was to take place. 

What historian who has read the ancient books of the Irish--the Book ofthe Dun Cow, the Book of Ballymote, the Book of Lismore, and thelike--can show either surprise or dismay at the events which haveoccurred in Ireland in modern times? Of the hundreds of kings of Irelandwhose histories are epitomised in such works as that of the oldarchæologist Keating, it would be possible to count upon the fingersthose who have died in peace; and the archæologist, thus, knows betterthan to expect the descendants of these kings to live in harmony onewith the other. National characteristics do not change unless, as in thecase of the Greeks, the stock also changes. 

In the Jews we have another example of the persistence of those nationalcharacteristics which history has made known to us. The Jews firstappear in the dimness of the remote past as a group of nomad tribes, wandering over southern Palestine, Egypt, and the intervening deserts;and at the present day we see them still homeless, scattered over theface of the globe, the "tribe of the wandering foot and weary breast. "

In no country has the archæologist been more active than in Egypt duringthe last half century, and the contributions which his spade and pickhave offered to history are of first-rate importance to that study as awhole. The eye may now travel down the history of the Nile Valley fromprehistoric days to the present time almost without interruption; andnow that the anthropologist has shown that the modern Egyptians, Mussulman and Copt, peasant and townsman, belong to one and the samerace of ancient Egyptians, one may surely judge to-day's inhabitants ofthe country in the light of yesterday's records. In his report for theyear 1906, Lord Cromer, questioning whether the modern inhabitants ofthe country were capable of governing their own land, tells us that wemust go back to the precedent of Pharaonic days to discover if theEgyptians ever ruled themselves successfully. 

In this pregnant remark Lord Cromer was using information which thearchæologist and historian had made accessible to him. Looking back overthe history of the country, he was enabled, by the study of thisinformation, to range before him the succession of foreign occupationsof the Nile Valley and to assess their significance. It may be worthwhile to repeat the process, in order to give an example of the bearingof history upon modern polemics, though I propose to discuss this mattermore fully in another chapter. 

Previous to the British occupation the country was ruled, as it is now, by a noble dynasty of Albanian princes, whose founder was set upon thethrone by the aid of Turkish and Albanian troops. From the beginning ofthe sixteenth century until that time Egypt had been ruled by theOttoman Government, the Turk having replaced the Circassian and otherforeign "Mamlukes" who had held the country by the aid of foreign troopssince the middle of the thirteenth century. For a hundred years previousto the Mamluke rule Egypt had been in the hands of the Syrian andArabian dynasty founded by Saladdin. The Fatimides, a North Africandynasty, governed the country before the advent of Saladdin, this familyhaving entered Egypt under their general, Jauhar, who was of Greekorigin. In the ninth century Ahmed ibn Tulun, a Turk, governed the landwith the aid of a foreign garrison, his rule being succeeded by theIkhshidi dynasty of foreigners. Ahmed had captured Egypt from theByzantines who had held it since the days of the Roman occupation. Previous to the Romans the Ptolemies, a Greek family, had governed theNile Valley with the help of foreign troops. The Ptolemies had followedclose upon the Greek occupation, the Greeks having replaced the Persiansas rulers of Egypt. The Persian occupation had been preceded by anEgyptian dynasty which had been kept on the throne by Greek and otherforeign garrisons. Previous to this there had been a Persian occupation, which had followed a short period of native rule under foreigninfluence. We then come back to the Assyrian conquest which had followedthe Ethiopian rule. Libyan kings had held the country before theEthiopian conquest. The XXIst and XXth Dynasties preceded the Libyans, and here, in a disgraceful period of corrupt government, a series ofso-called native kings are met with. Foreigners, however, swarmed in thecountry at the time, foreign troops were constantly used, and thePharaohs themselves were of semi-foreign origin. One now comes back tothe early XIXth and XVIIIth Dynasties which, although largely tingedwith foreign blood, may be said to have been Egyptian families. Beforethe rise of the XVIIIth Dynasty the country was in foreign hands for thelong period which had followed the fall of the XIIth Dynasty, theclassical period of Egyptian history (about the twentieth century B. C. ), when there were no rivals to be feared. Thus the Egyptians may be saidto have been subject to foreign occupation for nearly four thousandyears, with the exception of the strong native rule of the XVIIIthDynasty, the semi-native rule of the three succeeding dynasties, and afew brief periods of chaotic government in later times; and this is theinformation which the archæologist has to give to the statesman andpolitician. It is a story of continual conquest, of foreign occupationsfollowing one upon another, of revolts and massacres, of rapidretributions and punishments. It is the story of a nation which, howeverably it may govern itself in the future, has only once in fourthousand years successfully done so in the past. 

[Illustration: PL. I. The mummy of Rameses II. Of Dynasty XIX. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

Such information is of far-reaching value to the politician, and tothose interested, as every Englishman should be, in Imperial politics. Anation cannot alter by one jot or tittle its fundamentalcharacteristics; and only those who have studied those characteristicsin the pages of history are competent to foresee the future. A certainEnglishman once asked the Khedive Ismail whether there was any news thatday about Egyptian affairs. "That is so like all you English, " repliedhis Highness. "You are always expecting something new to happen in Egyptday by day. To-day is here the same as yesterday, and to-morrow will bethe same as to-day; and so it has been, and so it will be, for thousandsof years. "[1] Neither Egypt nor any other nation will ever change; andto this it is the archæologist who will bear witness with his stern lawof Precedent. 

 [Footnote 1: E. Dicey. 'The Story of the Khedivate, ' p. 528. ]

I will reserve the enlarging of this subject for the next chapter: forthe present we may consider, as a second argument, the efficacy of thepast as a tonic to the present, and its ability to restore the vitalityof any age that is weakened. 

In ancient Egypt at the beginning of the XXVIth Dynasty (B. C. 663) thecountry was at a very low ebb. Devastated by conquests, its peoplehumiliated, its government impoverished, a general collapse of thenation was imminent. At this critical period the Egyptians turned theirminds to the glorious days of old. They remodelled their arts and craftsupon those of the classical periods, introduced again the obsoleteoffices and titles of those early times, and organised the governmentupon the old lines. This movement saved the country, and averted itscollapse for a few more centuries. It renewed the pride of workmanshipin a decadent people; and on all sides we see a revival which was thedirect result of an archæological experiment. 

The importance of archæology as a reviver of artistic and industrialculture will be realised at once if the essential part it played in thegreat Italian Renaissance is called to mind. Previous to the age ofCimabue and Giotto in Florence, Italian refinement had passed steadilydown the path of deterioration. Græco-Roman art, which still at a highlevel in the early centuries of the Christian era, entirely lost itsoriginality during Byzantine times, and the dark ages settled down uponItaly in almost every walk of life. The Venetians, for example, weresatisfied with comparatively the poorest works of art imported fromConstantinople or Mount Athos: and in Florence so great was the povertyof genius that when Cimabue in the thirteenth century painted thatfamous Madonna which to our eyes appears to be of the crudestworkmanship, the little advance made by it in the direction ofnaturalness was received by the city with acclamations, the very streetdown which it was carried being called the "Happy Street" in honour ofthe event. Giotto carried on his master's teachings, and a few yearslater the Florentines had advanced to the standard of Fra Angelico, whowas immediately followed by the two Lippis and Botticelli. Leonardo daVinci, artist, architect, and engineer, was almost contemporaneous withBotticelli, being born not much more than a hundred years after thedeath of Giotto. With him art reached a level which it has neversurpassed, old traditions and old canons were revived, and in everydirection culture proceeded again to those heights from which it hadfallen. 

The reader will not need to be reminded that this great renaissance wasthe direct result of the study of the remains of the ancient arts ofGreece and Rome. Botticelli and his contemporaries were, in a sense, archæologists, for their work was inspired by the relics of ancientdays. 

Now, though at first sight it seems incredible that such an age ofbarbarism as that of the later Byzantine period should return, it isindeed quite possible that a relatively uncultured age should come uponus in the future; and there is every likelihood of certain communitiespassing over to the ranks of the absolute Philistines. Socialism runmad would have no more time to give to the intellect than it had duringthe French Revolution. Any form of violent social upheaval meanscatalepsy of the arts and crafts, and a trampling under foot of oldtraditions. The invasions and revolts which are met with at the close ofancient Egyptian history brought the culture of that country to thelowest ebb of vitality. The fall of Greece put an absolute stop to theartistic life of that nation. The invasions of Italy by the inhabitantsof less refined countries caused a set-back in civilisation for whichalmost the whole of Europe suffered. Certain of the French arts andcrafts have never recovered from the effects of the Revolution. 

A national convulsion of one kind or another is to be expected by everycountry; and history tells us that such a convulsion is generallyfollowed by an age of industrial and artistic coma, which is brought toan end not so much by the introduction of foreign ideas as by arenascence of the early traditions of the nation. It thus behoves everyman to interest himself in the continuity of these traditions, and tosee that they are so impressed upon the mind that they shall survive allupheavals, or with ease be re-established. 

There is no better tonic for a people who have weakened, and whose arts, crafts, and industries have deteriorated than a return to the conditionswhich obtained at a past age of national prosperity; and there are fewmore repaying tasks in the long-run than that of reviving an interest inthe best periods of artistic or industrial activity. This can only beeffected by the study of the past, that is to say by archæology. 

It is to be remembered, of course, that the sentimental interest inantique objects which, in recent years, has given a huge value to allancient things, regardless of their intrinsic worth, is a dangerousattitude, unless it is backed by the most expert knowledge; for insteadof directing the attention only to the best work of the best periods, itresults in the diminishing of the output of modern original work and thesetting of little of worth in its place. A person of a certainfashionable set will now boast that there is no object in his room lessthan two hundred years old: his only boast, however, should be that theroom contains nothing which is not of intrinsic beauty, interest, orgood workmanship. The old chairs from the kitchen are dragged into thedrawing-room--because they are old; miniatures unmeritoriously paintedby unknown artists for obscure clients are nailed in conspicuousplaces--because they are old; hideous plates and dishes, originally madeby ignorant workmen for impoverished peasants, are enclosed in glasscases--because they are old; iron-bound chests, which had been cheaplymade to suit the purses of farmers, are rescued from the cottages oftheir descendants and sold for fabulous sums--because they are old. 

A person who fills a drawing-room with chairs, tables, and ornaments, dating from the reign of Queen Anne, cannot say that he does so becausehe wishes it to look like a room of that date; for if this were hisdesire, he would have to furnish it with objects which appeared to benewly made, since in the days of Queen Anne the first quality noticeablein them would have been their newness. In fact, to produce the desiredeffect everything in the room, with very few exceptions, would have tobe a replica. To sit in this room full of antiques in a frock-coat wouldbe as bad a breach of good taste as the placing of a Victorianchandelier in an Elizabethan banqueting-hall. To furnish the room withgenuine antiquities because they are old and therefore interesting wouldbe to carry the museum spirit into daily life with its attendingresponsibilities, and would involve all manner of incongruities andinconsistencies; while to furnish in this manner because antiques werevaluable would be merely vulgar. There are, thus, only threejustifications that I can see for the action of the man who surroundshimself with antiquities: he must do so because they are examples ofworkmanship, because they are beautiful, or because they are endeared tohim by family usage. These, of course, are full and completejustifications; and the value of his attitude should be felt in theimpetus which it gives to conscientious modern work. There are periodsin history at which certain arts, crafts, or industries reached anextremely high level of excellence; and nothing can be more valuable tomodern workmen than familiarity with these periods. Well-made replicashave a value that is overlooked only by the inartistic. Nor must it beforgotten that modern objects of modern design will one day becomeantiquities; and it should be our desire to assist in the making of theperiod of our lifetime an age to which future generations will look backfor guidance and teaching. Every man can, in this manner, be of use to anation, if only by learning to reject poor work wherever he comes uponit--work which he feels would not stand against the criticism of Time;and thus it may be said that archæology, which directs him to the bestworks of the ancients, and sets him a standard and criterion, should bean essential part of his education. 

[Illustration: PL. II Wood and enamel jewel-case discovered in the tomb of Yuaa and Tuau. An example of the furniture of one of the best periods of ancient Egyptian art. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

The third argument which I wish to employ here to demonstrate the valueof the study of archæology and history to the layman is based upon theassumption that patriotism is a desirable ingredient in a man'scharacter. This is a premise which assuredly will be admitted. Truepatriotism is essential to the maintenance of a nation. It has taken theplace, among certain people, of loyalty to the sovereign; for the armieswhich used to go to war out of a blind loyalty to their king, now do sofrom a sense of patriotism which is shared by the monarch (if theyhappen to have the good fortune to possess one). 

Patriotism is often believed to consist of a love of one's country, inan affection for the familiar villages or cities, fields or streets, ofone's own dwelling-place. This is a grievous error. Patriotism should bean unqualified desire for the welfare of the race as a whole. It is notreally patriotic for the Englishman to say, "I love England": it is onlynatural. It is not patriotic for him to say, "I don't think much offoreigners": it is only a form of narrowness of mind which, in the caseof England and certain other countries, happens sometimes to be rather auseful attitude, but in the case of several nations, of which a goodexample is Egypt, would be detrimental to their own interests. It wasnot unqualified patriotism that induced the Greeks to throw off theOttoman yoke: it was largely dislike of the Turks. It is not patriotism, that is to say undiluted concern for the nation as a whole, which leadssome of the modern Egyptians to prefer an entirely native government tothe Anglo-Egyptian administration now obtaining in that country: it isrestlessness; and I am fortunately able to define it thus without thenecessity of entering the arena of polemics by an opinion as to whetherthat restlessness is justified or not justified. 

If patriotism were but the love of one's tribe and one's dwelling-place, then such undeveloped or fallen races as, for example, the AmericanIndians, could lay their downfall at the door of that sentiment; sincethe exclusive love of the tribe prevented the small bodies fromamalgamating into one great nation for the opposing of the invader. Ifpatriotism were but the desire for government without interference, thenthe breaking up of the world's empires would be urged, and suchfederations as the United States of America would be intolerable. 

Patriotism is, and must be, the desire for the progress and welfare ofthe whole nation, without any regard whatsoever to the conditions underwhich that progress takes place, and without any prejudice in favoureither of self-government or of outside control. I have no hesitation insaying that the patriotic Pole is he who is in favour of Russian orGerman control of his country's affairs; for history has told him quiteplainly that he cannot manage them himself. The Nationalist in anycountry runs the risk of being the poorest patriot in the land, for hiscontinuous cry is for self-government, without any regard to thequestion as to whether such government will be beneficial to his nationin the long-run. 

The value of history to patriotism, then, is to be assessed under twoheadings. In the first place, history defines the attitude which thepatriot should assume. It tells him, in the clear light of experience, what is, and what is not, good for his nation, and indicates to him howmuch he may claim for his country. And in the second place, it gives tothe patriots of those nations which have shown capacity and ability inthe past a confidence in the present; it permits in them the indulgenceof that enthusiasm which will carry them, sure-footed, along the pathof glory. 

Archæology, as the discovery and classification of the facts of history, is the means by which we may obtain a true knowledge of what hashappened in the past. It is the instrument with which we may dissectlegend, and extract from myth its ingredients of fact. Cold historytells the Greek patriot, eager to enter the fray, that he must setlittle store by the precedent of the deeds of the Trojan war. It tellsthe English patriot that the "one jolly Englishman" of the old rhyme isnot the easy vanquisher of the "two froggy Frenchmen and one Portugee"which tradition would have him believe. He is thus enabled to steer amiddle course between arrant conceit and childish fright. History tellshim the actual facts: history is to the patriot what "form" is to theracing man. 

In the case of the English (Heaven be praised!) history opens up aboundless vista for the patriotic. The Englishman seldom realises howmuch he has to be proud of in his history, or how loudly the past criesupon him to be of good cheer. One hears much nowadays of England'speril, and it is good that the red signals of danger should sometimes bedisplayed. But let every Englishman remember that history can tell himof greater perils faced successfully; of mighty armies commanded by thegreatest generals the world has ever known, held in check year afteryear, and finally crushed by England; of vast fleets scattered ordestroyed by English sailors; of almost impregnable cities captured byBritish troops. "There is something very characteristic, " writesProfessor Seeley, [1] "in the indifference which we show towards themighty phenomenon of the diffusion of our race and the expansion of ourstate. We seem, as it were, to have conquered and peopled half the worldin a fit of absence of mind. "

 [Footnote 1: 'The Expansion of England, ' p. 10. ]

The history of England, and later of the British Empire, constitutes atale so amazing that he who has the welfare of the nation as a whole atheart--that is to say, the true patriot--is justified in entertainingthe most optimistic thoughts for the future. He should not beindifferent to the past: he should bear it in mind all the time. Patriotism may not often be otherwise than misguided if no study ofhistory has been made. The patriot of one nation will wish to procurefor his country a freedom which history would show him to have been itsvery curse; and the patriot of another nation will encourage anervousness and restraint in his people which history would tell him wasunnecessary. The English patriot has a history to read which, at thepresent time, it is especially needful for him to consider; and, sinceEgyptology is my particular province, I cannot better close thisargument than by reminding the modern Egyptians that their own historyof four thousand years and its teaching must be considered by them whenthey speak of patriotism. A nation so talented as the descendants of thePharaohs, so industrious, so smart and clever, should give a far largerpart of its attention to the arts, crafts, and industries, of whichEgyptian archæology has to tell so splendid a story. 

As a final argument for the value of the study of history and archæologyan aspect of the question may be placed before the reader which willperhaps be regarded as fanciful, but which, in all sincerity, I believeto be sober sense. 

In this life of ours which, under modern conditions, is lived at sogreat a speed, there is a growing need for a periodical pause whereinthe mind may adjust the relationship of the things that have been tothose that are. So rapidly are our impressions received and assimilated, so individually are they shaped or classified, that, in whateverdirection our brains lead us, we are speedily carried beyond thatprovince of thought which is common to us all. A man who lives alonefinds himself, in a few months, out of touch with the thought of hiscontemporaries; and, similarly, a man who lives in what is called anup-to-date manner soon finds himself grown unsympathetic to the sobermovement of the world's slow round-about. 

Now, the man who lives alone presently developes some of the recognisedeccentricities of the recluse, which, on his return to society, causehim to be regarded as a maniac; and the man who lives entirely in thepresent cannot argue that the characteristics which he has developed areless maniacal because they are shared by his associates. Rapidly he, too, has become eccentric; and just as the solitary man must needs comeinto the company of his fellows if he would retain a healthy mind, sothe man who lives in the present must allow himself occasionalintercourse with the past if he would keep his balance. 

[Illustration: PL. III. Heavy gold earrings of Queen Tausert of Dynasty XX. An example of the work of ancient Egyptian goldsmiths. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

Heraclitus, in a quotation preserved by Sextus Empiricus, [1] writes: "Itbehoves us to follow the common reason of the world; yet, though thereis a common reason in the world, the majority live as though theypossessed a wisdom peculiar each unto himself alone. " Every one of uswho considers his mentality an important part of his constitution shouldendeavour to give himself ample opportunities of adjusting his mind tothis "common reason" which is the silver thread that runs unbrokenthroughout history. We should remember the yesterdays, that we may knowwhat the pother of to-day is about; and we should foretell to-morrow notby to-day but by every day that has been. 

 [Footnote 1: Bywater: 'Heracliti Ephesii Reliquiæ, ' p. 38. ]

Forgetfulness is so common a human failing. In our rapid transit throughlife we are so inclined to forget the past stages of the journey. Allthings pass by and are swallowed up in a moment of time. Experiencescrowd upon us; the events of our life occur, are recorded by our busybrains, are digested, and are forgotten before the substance of whichthey were made has resolved into its elements. We race through theyears, and our progress is headlong through the days. 

Everything, as it is done with, is swept up into the basket of the past, and the busy handmaids, unless we check them, toss the contents, goodand bad, on to the great rubbish heap of the world's waste. Loves, hates, gains, losses, all things upon which we do not lay fierce andstrong hands, are gathered into nothingness, and, with a few exceptions, are utterly forgotten. 

And we, too, will soon have passed, and our little brains which haveforgotten so much will be forgotten. We shall be throttled out of theworld and pressed by the clumsy hands of Death into the mould of thatsame rubbish-hill of oblivion, unless there be a stronger hand to saveus. We shall be cast aside, and left behind by the hurrying crowd, unless there be those who will see to it that our soul, like that ofJohn Brown, goes marching along. There is only one human force strongerthan death, and that force is History, By it the dead are made to liveagain: history is the salvation of the mortal man as religion is thesalvation of his immortal life. 

Sometimes, then, in our race from day to day it is necessary to stop theheadlong progress of experience, and, for an hour, to look back upon thepast. Often, before we remember to direct our mind to it, that past isalready blurred, and dim. The picture is out of focus, and turning fromit in sorrow instantly the flight of our time begins again. This shouldnot be. "There is, " says Emerson, "a relationship between the hours ofour life and the centuries of time. " Let us give history and archæologyits due attention; for thus not only shall we be rendering a service toall the dead, not only shall we be giving a reason and a usefulness totheir lives, but we shall also lend to our own thought a balance whichin no otherwise can be obtained, we shall adjust ourselves to the truemovement of the world, and, above all, we shall learn how best to servethat nation to which it is our inestimable privilege to belong. 

 CHAPTER II. 

 THE EGYPTIAN EMPIRE. 

"History, " says Sir J. Seeley, "lies before science as a mass ofmaterials out of which a political doctrine can be deduced.... Politicsare vulgar when they are not liberalised by history, and history fadesinto mere literature when it loses sight of its relation to practicalpolitics.... Politics and history are only different aspects of the samestudy. "[1]

 [Footnote 1: 'The Expansion of England. ']

These words, spoken by a great historian, form the keynote of a bookwhich has run into nearly twenty editions; and they may therefore beregarded as having some weight. Yet what historian of old Egyptianaffairs concerns himself with the present welfare and future prospectsof the country, or how many statesmen in Egypt give close attention to astudy of the past? To the former the Egypt of modern times offers noscope for his erudition, and gives him no opportunity of making"discoveries, " which is all he cares about. To the latter, Egyptologyappears to be but a pleasant amusement, the main value of which is thefinding of pretty scarabs suitable for the necklaces of one's ladyfriends. Neither the one nor the other would for a moment admit thatEgyptology and Egyptian politics "are only different aspects of the samestudy. " And yet there can be no doubt that they are. 

It will be argued that the historian of ancient Egypt deals with aperiod so extremely remote that it can have no bearing upon theconditions of modern times, when the inhabitants of Egypt have alteredtheir language, religion, and customs, and the Mediterranean has ceasedto be the active centre of the civilised world. But it is to beremembered that the study of Egyptology carries one down to theMuhammedan invasion without much straining of the term, and merges theninto the study of the Arabic period at so many points that no realtermination can be given to the science; while the fact of theremoteness of its beginnings but serves to give it a greater value, since the vista before the eyes is wider. 

It is my object in this chapter to show that the ancient history ofEgypt has a real bearing on certain aspects of the polemics of thecountry. I need not again touch upon the matters which were referred toon page 8 in order to demonstrate this fact. I will take but onesubject--namely, that of Egypt's foreign relations and her wars in otherlands. It will be best, for this purpose, to show first of all that theancient and modern Egyptians are one and the same people; and, secondly, that the political conditions, broadly speaking, are much thesame now as they have been throughout history. 

Professor Elliot Smith, F. R. S. , has shown clearly enough, from the studyof bones of all ages, that the ancient and modern inhabitants of theNile Valley are precisely the same people anthropologically; and thisfact at once sets the matter upon an unique footing: for, with thepossible exception of China, there is no nation in the world which canbe proved thus to have retained its type for so long a period. This onefact makes any parallel with Greece or Rome impossible. The modernGreeks have not much in common, anthropologically, with the ancientGreeks, for the blood has become very mixed; the Italians are not thesame as the old Romans; the English are the result of a comparativelyrecent conglomeration of types. But in Egypt the subjects of archaicPharaohs, it seems certain, were exactly similar to those of the modernKhedives, and new blood has never been introduced into the nation to anappreciable extent, not even by the Arabs. Thus, if there is anyimportance in the bearing of history upon politics, we have in Egypt abetter chance of appreciating it than we have in the case of any othercountry. 

It is true that the language has altered, but this is not a matter offirst-rate importance. A Jew is not less typical because he speaksGerman, French, or English; and the cracking of skulls in Ireland isintroduced as easily in English as it was in Erse. The old language ofthe Egyptian hieroglyphs actually is not yet quite dead; for, in itsCoptic form, it is still spoken by many Christian Egyptians, who willsalute their friends in that tongue, or bid them good-morning orgood-night. Ancient Egyptian in this form is read in the Copticchurches; and God is called upon by that same name which was given toAmon and his colleagues. Many old Egyptian words have crept into theArabic language, and are now in common use in the country; while oftenthe old words are confused with Arabic words of similar sound. Thus, atAbydos, the archaic fortress is now called the _Shunet es Zebib_, whichin Arabic would have the inexplicable meaning "the store-house ofraisins"; but in the old Egyptian language its name, of similar sound, meant "the fortress of the Ibis-jars, " several of these sacred birdshaving been buried there in jars, after the place had been disused as amilitary stronghold. A large number of Egyptian towns still bear theirhieroglyphical names: Aswan, (Kom) Ombo, Edfu, Esneh, Keft, Kus, Keneh, Dendereh, for example. The real origin of these being now forgotten, some of them have been given false Arabic derivations, and stories havebeen invented to account for the peculiar significance of the words thusintroduced. The word _Silsileh_ in Arabic means "a chain, " and a placein Upper Egypt which bears that name is now said to be so calledbecause a certain king here stretched a chain across the river tointerrupt the shipping; but in reality the name is derived from amispronounced hieroglyphical word meaning "a boundary. " Similarly thetown of Damanhur in Lower Egypt is said to be the place at which a greatmassacre took place, for in Arabic the name may be interpreted asmeaning "rivers of blood, " whereas actually the name in Ancient Egyptianmeans simply "the Town of Horus. " The archæological traveller in Egyptmeets with instances of the continued use of the language of thePharaohs at every turn; and there are few things that make the scienceof Egyptology more alive, or remove it further from the dusty atmosphereof the museum, than this hearing of the old words actually spoken by themodern inhabitants of the land. 

The religion of Ancient Egypt, like those of Greece and Rome, was killedby Christianity, which largely gave place, at a later date, toMuhammedanism; and yet, in the hearts of the people there are still anextraordinary number of the old pagan beliefs. I will mention a fewinstances, taking them at random from my memory. 

In, ancient days the ithiphallic god Min was the patron of the crops, who watched over the growth of the grain. In modern times a degeneratefigure of this god Min, made of whitewashed wood and mud, may be seenstanding, like a scarecrow, in the fields throughout Egypt. When thesailors cross the Nile they may often be heard singing _Ya Amuni, YaAmuni_, "O Amon, O Amon, " as though calling upon that forgotten god forassistance. At Aswan those who are about to travel far still go up topray at the site of the travellers' shrine, which was dedicated to thegods of the cataracts. At Thebes the women climb a certain hill to maketheir supplications at the now lost sanctuary of Meretsegert, theserpent-goddess of olden times. A snake, the relic of the householdgoddess, is often kept as a kind of pet in the houses of the peasants. Barren women still go to the ruined temples of the forsaken gods in thehope that there is virtue in the stones; and I myself have givenpermission to disappointed husbands to take their childless wives tothese places, where they have kissed the stones and embraced the figuresof the gods. The hair of the jackal is burnt in the presence of dyingpeople, even of the upper classes, unknowingly to avert the jackal-godAnubis, the Lord of Death. A scarab representing the god of creation issometimes placed in the bath of a young married woman to give virtue tothe water. A decoration in white paint over the doorways of certainhouses in the south is a relic of the religious custom of placing abucranium there to avert evil. Certain temple-watchmen still call uponthe spirits resident in the sanctuaries to depart before they will enterthe building. At Karnak a statue of the goddess Sekhmet is regardedwith holy awe; and the goddess who once was said to have massacredmankind is even now thought to delight in slaughter. The golden barqueof Amon-Ra, which once floated upon the sacred lake of Karnak, is saidto be seen sometimes by the natives at the present time, who have notyet forgotten its former existence. In the processional festival ofAbu'l Haggag, the patron saint of Luxor, whose mosque and tomb standupon the ruins of the Temple of Amon, a boat is dragged over the groundin unwitting remembrance of the dragging of the boat of Amon in theprocessions of that god. Similarly in the _Mouled el Nebi_ procession atLuxor, boats placed upon carts are drawn through the streets, just asone may see them in the ancient paintings and reliefs. The patron godsof Kom Ombo, Horur and Sebek, yet remain in the memories of the peasantsof the neighbourhood as the two brothers who lived in the temple in thedays of old. A robber entering a tomb will smash the eyes of the figuresof the gods and deceased persons represented therein, that they may notobserve his actions, just as did his ancestors four thousand years ago. At Gurneh a farmer recently broke the arms of an ancient statue, whichlay half-buried near his fields, because he believed that they haddamaged his crops. In the south of Egypt a pot of water is placed uponthe graves of the dead, that their ghost, or _ka_, as it would have beencalled in old times, may not suffer from thirst; and the living willsometimes call upon the name of the dead, standing at night in thecemeteries. 

The ancient magic of Egypt is still widely practised, and many of theformulæ used in modern times are familiar to the Egyptologist. TheEgyptian, indeed, lives in a world much influenced by magic and thicklypopulated by spirits, demons, and djins. Educated men holding Governmentappointments, and dressing in the smartest European manner, willdescribe their miraculous adventures and their meetings with djins. AnEgyptian gentleman holding an important administrative post, told me theother day how his cousin was wont to change himself into a cat at nighttime, and to prowl about the town. When a boy, his father noticed thispeculiarity, and on one occasion chased and beat the cat, with theresult that the boy's body next morning was found to be covered withstripes and bruises. The uncle of my informant once read such stronglanguage (magically) in a certain book that it began to trembleviolently, and finally made a dash for it out of the window. This samepersonage was once sitting beneath a palm-tree with a certain magician(who, I fear, was also a conjurer), when, happening to remark on theclusters of dates twenty feet or so above his head, his friend stretchedhis arms upwards and his hands were immediately filled with the fruit. At another time this magician left his overcoat by mistake in a railwaycarriage, and only remembered it when the train was a mere speck uponthe horizon; but, on the utterance of certain words, the coatimmediately flew through the air back to him. 

I mention these particular instances because they were told to me byeducated persons; but amongst the peasants even more incredible storiesare gravely accepted. The Omdeh, or headman, of the village of Chaghb, not far from Luxor, submitted an official complaint to the police ashort time ago against an _afrit_ or devil which was doing much mischiefto him and his neighbours, snatching up oil-lamps and pouring the oilover the terrified villagers, throwing stones at passers-by, and soforth. Spirits of the dead in like manner haunt the living, and often dothem mischief. At Luxor, lately, the ghost of a well-known robberpersecuted his widow to such an extent that she finally went mad. Aremarkable parallel to this case, dating from Pharaonic days, may bementioned. It is the letter of a haunted widower to his dead wife, inwhich he asks her why she persecutes him, since he was always kind toher during her life, nursed her through illnesses, and never grieved herheart. [1]

 [Footnote 1: Maspero: 'Études egyptologiques, ' i. 145. ]

These instances might be multiplied, but those which I have quoted willserve to show that the old gods are still alive, and that the famousmagic of the Egyptians is not yet a thing of the past. Let us now turnto the affairs of everyday life. 

An archæological traveller in Egypt cannot fail to observe thesimilarity between old and modern customs as he rides through thevillages and across the fields. The houses, when not built upon theEuropean plan, are surprisingly like those of ancient days. The oldcornice still survives, and the rows of dried palm stems, from which itsform was originally derived, are still to be seen on the walls ofgardens and courtyards. The huts or shelters of dried corn-stalks, sooften erected in the fields, are precisely the same as those used inprehistoric days; and the archaic bunches of corn-stalks smeared withmud, which gave their form to later stone columns, are set up to thisday, though their stone posterity are now in ruins. Looking through thedoorway of one of these ancient houses, the traveller, perhaps, sees awoman grinding corn or kneading bread in exactly the same manner as herancestress did in the days of the Pharaohs. Only the other day a nativeasked to be allowed to purchase from us some of the ancient millstoneslying in one of the Theban temples, in order to re-use them on his farm. The traveller will notice, in some shady corner, the village barbershaving the heads and faces of his patrons, just as he is seen in theTheban tomb-paintings of thousands of years ago; and the small boys whoscamper across the road will have just the same tufts of hair left fordecoration on their shaven heads as had the boys of ancient Thebes andMemphis. In another house, where a death has occurred, the mourningwomen, waving the same blue cloth which was the token of mourning inancient days, will toss their arms about in gestures familiar to everystudent of ancient scenes. Presently the funeral will issue forth, andthe men will sing that solemn yet cheery tune which never fails to callto mind the far-famed _Maneros_--that song which Herodotus describes asa plaintive funeral dirge, and which Plutarch asserts was suited at thesame time to festive occasions. In some other house a marriage will betaking place, and the singers and pipers will, in like manner, recallthe scenes upon the monuments. The former have a favourite gesture--theplacing of the hand behind the ear as they sing--which is frequentlyshown in ancient representations of such festive scenes. The dancinggirls, too, are here to be seen, their eyes and cheeks heavily painted, as were those of their ancestresses; and in their hands are the sametambourines as are carried by their class in Pharaonic paintings andreliefs. The same date-wine which intoxicated the worshippers of theEgyptian Bacchus goes the round of this village company, and the samefood stuff, the same small, flat loaves of bread, are eaten. 

Passing out into the fields the traveller observes the ground raked intothe small squares for irrigation which the prehistoric farmer made; andthe plough is shaped as it always was. The _shadoof_, or water-hoist, is patiently worked as it has been for thousands of years; while thecylindrical hoist employed in Lower Egypt was invented and introduced inPtolemaic times. Threshing and winnowing proceed in the mannerrepresented on the monuments, and the methods of sowing and reaping havenot changed. Along the embanked roads, men, cattle, and donkeys filepast against the sky-line, recalling the straight rows of such figuresdepicted so often upon the monuments. Overhead there flies the vulturegoddess Nekheb, and the hawk Horus hovers near by. Across the road aheadslinks the jackal, Anubis; under one's feet crawls Khepera, the scarab;and there, under the sacred tree, sleeps the horned ram of Amon. In alldirections the hieroglyphs of the ancient Egyptians pass to and fro, asthough some old temple-inscription had come to life. The letter _m_, theowl, goes hooting past. The letter _a_, the eagle, circles overhead; thesign _ur_, the wagtail, flits at the roadside, chirping at the sign_rekh_, the peewit. Along the road comes the sign _ab_, the frolickingcalf; and near it is _ka_, the bull; while behind them walks the sign_fa_, a man carrying a basket on his head. In all directions are thefigures from which the ancients made their hieroglyphical script; andthus that wonderful old writing at once ceases to be mysterious, a thingof long ago, and one realises how natural a product of the country itwas. 

[Illustration: PL. IV. In the palm-groves near Sakkâra, Egypt. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _

In a word, ancient and modern Egyptians are fundamentally similar. Noris there any great difference to be observed between the country'srelations with foreign powers in ancient days and those of the lasthundred years. As has been seen in the last chapter, Egypt was usuallyoccupied by a foreign power, or ruled by a foreign dynasty, just as atthe present day; and a foreign army was retained in the country duringmost of the later periods of ancient history. There were always numerousforeigners settled in Egypt, and in Ptolemaic and Roman times Alexandriaand Memphis swarmed with them. The great powers of the civilised worldwere always watching Egypt as they do now, not always in a friendlyattitude to that one of themselves which occupied the country; and thechief power with which Egypt was concerned in the time of the RamessidePharaohs inhabited Asia Minor and perhaps Turkey, just as in the middleages and the last century. Then, as in modern times, Egypt had much ofher attention held by the Sudan, and constant expeditions had to be madeinto the regions above the cataracts. Thus it cannot be argued thatancient history offers no precedent for modern affairs because allthings have now changed. Things have changed extremely little, broadlyspeaking; and general lines of conduct have the same significance at thepresent time as they had in the past. 

I wish now to give an outline of Egypt's relationship to her mostimportant neighbour, Syria, in order that the bearing of history uponmodern political matters may be demonstrated; for it would seem that therecords of the past make clear a tendency which is now somewhatoverlooked. I employ this subject simply as an example. 

From the earliest historical times the Egyptians have endeavoured tohold Syria and Palestine as a vassal state. One of the first Pharaohswith whom we meet in Egyptian history, King Zeser of Dynasty III. , isknown to have sent a fleet to the Lebanon in order to procure cedarwood, and there is some evidence to show that he held sway over thiscountry. For how many centuries previous to his reign the Pharaohs hadoverrun Syria we cannot now say, but there is no reason to suppose thatZeser initiated the aggressive policy of Egypt in Asia. Sahura, aPharaoh of Dynasty V. , attacked the Phoenician coast with his fleet, andreturned to the Nile Valley with a number of Syrian captives. Pepi I. Ofthe succeeding dynasty also attacked the coast-cities, and Pepi II. Hadconsiderable intercourse with Asia. Amenemhat I. , of Dynasty XII. , fought in Syria, and appears to have brought it once more under Egyptiansway. Senusert I. Seems to have controlled the country to some extent, for Egyptians lived there in some numbers. Senusert III. Won a greatvictory over the Asiatics in Syria; and a stela and statue belonging toEgyptian officials have been found at Gezer, between Jerusalem and thesea. After each of the above-mentioned wars it is to be presumed thatthe Egyptians held Syria for some years, though little is now known ofthe events of these far-off times. 

During the Hyksos dynasties in Egypt there lived a Pharaoh named Khyanwho was of Semitic extraction; and there is some reason to suppose thathe ruled from Baghdad to the Sudan, he and his fathers having created agreat Egyptian Empire by the aid of foreign troops. Egypt's connectionwith Asia during the Hyksos rule is not clearly defined, but the veryfact that these foreign kings were anxious to call themselves "Pharaohs"shows that Egypt dominated in the east end of the Mediterranean. TheHyksos kings of Egypt very probably held Syria in fee, being possessedof both countries, but preferring to hold their court in Egypt. 

We now come to the great Dynasty XVIII. , and we learn more fully of theEgyptian invasions of Syria. Ahmosis I. Drove the Hyksos out of theDelta and pursued them through Judah. His successor, Amenhotep I. , appears to have seized all the country as far as the Euphrates; andThutmosis I. , his son, was able to boast that he ruled even unto thatriver. Thutmosis III. , Egypt's greatest Pharaoh, led invasion afterinvasion into Syria, so that his name for generations was a terror tothe inhabitants. From the Euphrates to the fourth cataract of the Nilethe countries acknowledged him king, and the mighty Egyptian fleetpatrolled the seas. This Pharaoh fought no less than seventeen campaignsin Asia, and he left to his son the most powerful throne in the world. Amenhotep II. Maintained this empire and quelled the revolts of theAsiatics with a strong hand. Thutmosis IV. , his son, conducted twoexpeditions into Syria; and the next king, Amenhotep III. , wasacknowledged throughout that country. 

That extraordinary dreamer, Akhnaton, the succeeding Pharaoh, allowedthe empire to pass from him owing to his religious objections to war;but, after his death, Tutankhamen once more led the Egyptian armies intoAsia. Horemheb also made a bid for Syria; and Seti I. RecoveredPalestine. Rameses II. , his son, penetrated to North Syria; but, havingcome into contact with the new power of the Hittites, he was unable tohold the country. The new Pharaoh, Merenptah, seized Canaan and laidwaste the land of Israel. A few years later, Rameses III. Led his fleetand his army to the Syrian coast and defeated the Asiatics in a greatsea-battle. He failed to hold the country, however, and after his deathEgypt remained impotent for two centuries. Then, under Sheshonk I. , ofDynasty XXII. , a new attempt was made, and Jerusalem was captured. Takeloth II. , of the same dynasty, sent thither an Egyptian army to helpin the overthrow of Shalmaneser II. 

From this time onwards the power of Egypt had so much declined that theinvasions into Syria of necessity became more rare. Shabaka of DynastyXXV. Concerned himself deeply with Asiatic politics, and attempted tobring about a state of affairs which would have given him theopportunity of seizing the country. Pharaoh Necho, of the succeedingdynasty, invaded Palestine and advanced towards the Euphrates. Herecovered for Egypt her Syrian province, but it was speedily lost again. Apries, a few years later, captured the Phoenician coast and invadedPalestine; but the country did not remain for long under Egyptian rule. It is not necessary to record all the Syrian wars of the Dynasty of thePtolemies. Egypt and Asia were now closely connected, and at severalperiods during this phase of Egyptian history the Asiatic province cameunder the control of the Pharaohs. The wars of Ptolemy I. In Syria wereconducted on a large scale. In the reign of Ptolemy III. There werethree campaigns, and I cannot refrain from quoting a contemporary recordof the King's powers if only for the splendour of its wording:--

"The great King Ptolemy ... Having inherited from his father the royaltyof Egypt and Libya and Syria and Phoenicia and Cyprus and Lycia andCaria and the Cyclades, set out on a campaign into Asia with infantryand cavalry forces, a naval armament and elephants, both Troglodyte andEthiopic.... But having become master of all the country within theEuphrates, and of Cilicia and Pamphylia and Ionia and the Hellespontand Thrace, and of all the military forces and elephants in thesecountries, and having made the monarchs in all these places hissubjects, he crossed the Euphrates, and having brought under himMesopotamia and Babylonia and Susiana and Persis and Media, and all therest as far as Bactriana ... He sent forces through the canals----"(Here the text breaks off. )

Later in this dynasty Ptolemy VII. Was crowned King of Syria, but thekingdom did not remain long in his power. Then came the Romans, and formany years Syria and Egypt were sister provinces of one empire. 

There is no necessity to record the close connection between the twocountries in Arabic times. For a large part of that era Egypt and Syriaformed part of the same empire; and we constantly find Egyptiansfighting in Asia. Now, under Edh Dhahir Bebars of the Baharide MamelukeDynasty, we see them helping to subject Syria and Armenia; now, underEl-Mansur Kalaun, Damascus is captured; and now En Nasir Muhammed isfound reigning from Tunis to Baghdad. In the Circassian Mameluke Dynastywe see El Muayyad crushing a revolt in Syria, and El Ashraf Bursbeycapturing King John of Cyprus and keeping his hand on Syria. And so thetale continues, until, as a final picture, we see Ibrahim Pasha leadingthe Egyptians into Asia and crushing the Turks at Iconium. 

Such is the long list of the wars waged by Egypt in Syria. Are we tosuppose that these continuous incursions into Asia have suddenly come toan end? Are we to imagine that because there has been a respite for ahundred years the precedent of six thousand years has now to bedisregarded? By the recent reconquest of the Sudan it has been shownthat the old political necessities still exist for Egypt in the south, impelling her to be mistress of the upper reaches of the Nile. Is therenow no longer any chance of her expanding in other directions should herhands become free?

The reader may answer with the argument that in early days England madeinvasion after invasion into France, yet ceased after a while to do so. But this is no parallel. England was impelled to war with France becausethe English monarchs believed themselves to be, by inheritance, kings ofa large part of France; and when they ceased to believe this they ceasedto make war. The Pharaohs of Egypt never considered themselves to bekings of Syria, and never used any title suggesting an inheritedsovereignty. They merely held Syria as a buffer state, and claimed nomore than an overlordship there. Now Syria is still a buffer state, andthe root of the trouble, therefore, still exists. Though I must disclaimall knowledge of modern politics, I am quite sure that it is nomeaningless phrase to say that England will most carefully hold thistendency in check prevent an incursion into Syria; but, with a strongcontrolling hand relaxed, it would require more than human strength toeradicate an Egyptian tendency--nay, a habit, of six thousand years'standing. Try as she might, Egypt, as far as an historian can see, wouldnot be able to prevent herself passing ultimately into Syria again. Howor when this would take place an Egyptologist cannot see, for he isaccustomed to deal in long periods of time, and to consider thecenturies as others might the decades. It might not come for a hundredyears or more: it might come suddenly quite by accident. 

In 1907 there was a brief moment when Egypt appeared to be, quiteunknowingly, on the verge of an attempted reconquest of her lostprovince. There was a misunderstanding with Turkey regarding thedelineation of the Syrio-Sinaitic frontier; and, immediately, theEgyptian Government took strong action and insisted that the questionshould be settled. Had there been bloodshed the seat of hostilitieswould have been Syria; and supposing that Egypt had been victorious, shewould have pushed the opposing forces over the North Syrian frontierinto Asia Minor, and when peace was declared she would have foundherself dictating terms from a point of vantage three hundred milesnorth of Jerusalem. Can it be supposed that she would then have desiredto abandon the reconquered territory?

However, matters were settled satisfactorily with the Porte, and theEgyptian Government, which had never realised this trend of events, andhad absolutely no designs upon Syria, gave no further consideration toAsiatic affairs. In the eyes of the modern onlookers the whole matterhad developed from a series of chances; but in the view of the historianthe moment of its occurrence was the only chance about it, the _fact_ ofits occurrence being inevitable according to the time-proven rules ofhistory. The phrase "England in Egypt" has been given such prominence oflate that a far more important phrase, "Egypt in Asia, " has beenoverlooked. Yet, whereas the former is a catch-word of barely thirtyyears' standing, the latter has been familiar at the east end of theMediterranean for forty momentous centuries at the lowest computation, and rings in the ears of the Egyptologist all through the ages. I needthus no justification for recalling it in these pages. 

Now let us glance at Egypt's north-western frontier. Behind the desertswhich spread to the west of the Delta lies the oasis of Siwa; and fromhere there is a continuous line of communication with Tripoli and Tunis. Thus, during the present winter (1910-11), the outbreak of cholera atTripoli has necessitated the despatch of quarantine officials to theoasis in order to prevent the spread of the disease into Egypt. Now, oflate years we have heard much talk regarding the Senussi fraternity, aMuhammedan sect which is said to be prepared to declare a holy war andto descend upon Egypt. In 1909 the Egyptian Mamur of Siwa was murdered, and it was freely stated that this act of violence was the beginning ofthe trouble. I have no idea as to the real extent of the danger, nor doI know whether this bogie of the west, which is beginning to cause suchanxiety in Egypt in certain classes, is but a creation of theimagination; but it will be interesting to notice the frequentoccurrence of hostilities in this direction, since the history ofEgypt's gateways is surely a study meet for her guardians. 

When the curtain first rises upon archaic times, we find those far-offPharaohs struggling with the Libyans who had penetrated into the Deltafrom Tripoli and elsewhere. In early dynastic history they are the chiefenemies of the Egyptians, and great armies have to be levied to drivethem back through Siwa to their homes. Again in Dynasty XII. , AmenemhatI. Had to despatch his son to drive these people out of Egypt; and atthe beginning of Dynasty XVIII. , Amenhotep I. Was obliged once more togive them battle. Seti I. Of Dynasty XIX. Made war upon them, andrepulsed their invasion into Egypt. Rameses II. Had to face an allianceof Libyans, Lycians, and others, in the western Delta. His son Merenptahwaged a most desperate war with them in order to defend Egypt againsttheir incursions, a war which has been described as the most perilous inEgyptian history; and it was only after a battle in which nine thousandof the enemy were slain that the war came to an end. Rameses III. , however, was again confronted with these persistent invaders, and onlysucceeded in checking them temporarily. Presently the tables wereturned, and Dynasty XXII. , which reigned so gloriously in Egypt, wasLibyan in origin. No attempt was made thenceforth for many years tocheck the peaceful entrance of Libyans into Egypt, and soon that nationheld a large part of the Delta. Occasional mention is made of troublesupon the north-west frontier, but little more is heard of any seriousinvasions. In Arabic times disturbances are not infrequent, and certainsovereigns, as for example, El Mansur Kalaun, were obliged to invade theenemy's country, thus extending Egypt's power as far as Tunis. 

There is one lesson which may be learnt from the above facts--namely, that this frontier is somewhat exposed, and that incursions from NorthAfrica by way of Siwa are historic possibilities. If the Senussiinvasion of Egypt is ever attempted it will not, at any rate, be withoutprecedent. 

When England entered Egypt in 1882 she found a nation without externalinterests, a country too impoverished and weak to think of aught elsebut its own sad condition. The reviving of this much-bled, anæmicpeople, and the reorganisation of the Government, occupied the wholeattention of the Anglo-Egyptian officials, and placed Egypt before theireyes in only this one aspect. Egypt appeared to be but the Nile Valleyand the Delta; and, in truth, that was, and still is, quite as muchas the hard-worked officials could well administer. The one task of theregeneration of Egypt was all absorbing, and the country came to beregarded as a little land wherein a concise, clearly-defined, andcompact problem could be worked out. 

[Illustration: PL. V. The mummy of Sety I. Of Dynasty XIX. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

Now, while this was most certainly the correct manner in which to facethe question, and while Egypt has benefited enormously by thissingleness of purpose in her officials, it was, historically, a falseattitude. Egypt is not a little country: Egypt is a crippled Empire. Throughout her history she has been the powerful rival of the people ofAsia Minor. At one time she was mistress of the Sudan, Somaliland, Palestine, Syria, Libya, and Cyprus; and the Sicilians, Sardinians, Cretans, and even Greeks, stood in fear of the Pharaoh. In Arabic timesshe held Tunis and Tripoli, and even in the last century she was theforemost Power at the east end of the Mediterranean. Napoleon when hecame to Egypt realised this very thoroughly, and openly aimed to makeher once more a mighty empire. But in 1882 such fine dreams were not tobe considered: there was too much work to be done in the Nile Valleyitself. The Egyptian Empire was forgotten, and Egypt was regarded aspermanently a little country. The conditions which we found here we tookto be permanent conditions. They were not. We arrived when the countrywas in a most unnatural state as regards its foreign relations; and wewere obliged to regard that state as chronic. This, though wise, wasabsolutely incorrect. Egypt in the past never has been for more than ashort period a single country; and all history goes to show that shewill not always be single in the future. 

With the temporary loss of the Syrian province Egypt's need for a navyceased to exist; and the fact that she is really a naval power has nowpassed from men's memory. Yet it was not much more than a century agothat Muhammed Ali fought a great naval battle with the Turks, andutterly defeated them. In ancient history the Egyptian navy was theterror of the Mediterranean, and her ships policed the east coast ofAfrica. In prehistoric times the Nile boats were built, it would seem, upon a seafaring plan: a fact that has led some scholars to suppose thatthe land was entered and colonised from across the waters. We talk ofEnglishmen as being born to the sea, as having a natural and inheritedtendency towards "business upon great waters"; and yet the English navydates from the days of Queen Elizabeth. It is true that the Plantagenetwars with France checked what was perhaps already a nautical bias, andthat had it not been for the Norman conquest, England, perchance wouldhave become a sea power at an earlier date. But at best the tendency isonly a thousand years old. In Egypt it is seven or eight thousand yearsold at the lowest computation. It makes one smile to think of Egypt asa naval power. It is the business of the historian to refrain fromsmiling, and to remark only that, absurd as it may sound, Egypt's futureis largely upon the water as her past has been. It must be rememberedthat she was fighting great battles in huge warships three or fourhundred feet in length at a time when Britons were paddling about incanoes. 

One of the ships built by the Pharaoh Ptolemy Philopator was fourhundred and twenty feet long, and had several banks of oars. It wasrowed by four thousand sailors, while four hundred others managed thesails. Three thousand soldiers were also carried upon its decks. Theroyal dahabiyeh which this Pharaoh used upon the Nile was three hundredand thirty feet long, and was fitted with state rooms and private roomsof considerable size. Another vessel contained, besides the ordinarycabins, large bath-rooms, a library, and an astronomical observatory. Ithad eight towers, in which there were machines capable of hurling stonesweighing three hundred pounds or more, and arrows eighteen feet inlength. These huge vessels were built some two centuries before Cæsarlanded in Britain. [1]

 [Footnote 1: Athenæus, v. 8. ]

In conclusion, then, it must be repeated that the present Nile-centredpolicy in Egypt, though infinitely best for the country at thisjuncture, is an artificial one, unnatural to the nation except as apassing phase; and what may be called the Imperial policy is absolutelycertain to take its place in time, although the Anglo-EgyptianGovernment, so long as it exists, will do all in its power to check it. History tells us over and over again that Syria is the natural dependantof Egypt, fought for or bargained for with the neighbouring countries tothe north; that the Sudan is likewise a natural vassal which from timeto time revolts and has to be reconquered; and that Egypt's most exposedfrontier lies on the north-west. In conquering the Sudan at the end ofthe nineteenth century the Egyptians were but fulfilling their destiny:it was a mere accident that their arms were directed against a Mahdi. Indiscussing seriously the situation in the western oases, they areworking upon the precise rules laid down by history. And if theirattention is not turned in the far future to Syria, they will be defyingrules even more precise, and, in the opinion of those who have the wholecourse of Egyptian history spread before them, will but be kickingagainst the pricks. Here surely we have an example of the value of thestudy of a nation's history, which is not more nor less than a study ofits political tendencies. 

Speaking of the relationship of history to politics, Sir J. Seeleywrote: "I tell you that when you study English history, you study notthe past of England only but her future. It is the welfare of yourcountry, it is your whole interest as citizens, that is in question whenyou study history. " These words hold good when we deal with Egyptianhistory, and it is our business to learn the political lessons which theEgyptologist can teach us, rather than to listen to his dissertationsupon scarabs and blue glaze. Like the astronomers of old, theEgyptologist studies, as it were, the stars, and reads the future inthem; but it is not the fashion for kings to wait upon hispronouncements any more! Indeed he reckons in such very long periods oftime, and makes startling statements about events which probably willnot occur for very many years to come, that the statesman, intent uponhis task, has some reason to declare that the study of past ages doesnot assist him to deal with urgent affairs. Nevertheless, in allseriousness, the Egyptologist's study is to be considered as but anotheraspect of statecraft, and he fails in his labours if he does not makethis his point of view. 

In his arrogant manner the Egyptologist will remark that modern politicsare of too fleeting a nature to interest him. In answer, I would tellhim that if he sits studying his papyri and his mummies without regardfor the fact that he is dealing with a nation still alive, stillcontributing its strength to spin the wheel of the world around, thenare his labours worthless and his brains misused. I would tell him thatif his work is paid for, then is he a robber if he gives no return ininformation which will be of practical service to Egypt in some way oranother. The Egyptian Government spends enormous sums each year uponthe preservation of the magnificent relics of bygone ages--relics forwhich, I regret to say, the Egyptians themselves care extremely little. Is this money spent, then, to amuse the tourist in the land, or simplyto fulfil obligations to ethical susceptibilities? No; there is but onejustification for this very necessary expenditure of publicmoney--namely, that these relics are regarded, so to speak, as theschool-books of the nation, which range over a series of subjects frompottery-making to politics, from stone-cutting to statecraft. The futureof Egypt may be read upon the walls of her ancient temples and tombs. Let the Egyptologist never forget, in the interest and excitement of hisdiscoveries, what is the real object of his work. 

 CHAPTER III. 

 THE NECESSITY OF ARCHÆOLOGY TO THE GAIETY OF THE WORLD. 

When a great man puts a period to his existence upon earth by dying, heis carefully buried in a tomb, and a monument is set up to his glory inthe neighbouring church. He may then be said to begin his second life, his life in the memory of the chronicler and historian. After the lapseof an æon or two the works of the historian, and perchance the tombitself, are rediscovered; and the great man begins his third life, nowas a subject of discussion and controversy amongst archæologists in thepages of a scientific journal. It may be supposed that the spirit of thegreat man, not a little pleased with its second life, has an extremedistaste for his third. There is a dead atmosphere about it which setshim yawning as only his grave yawned before. The charm has been takenfrom his deeds; there is no longer any spring in them. He must feeltowards the archæologist much as a young man feels towards hiscold-blooded parent by whom his love affair has just been found out. The public, too, if by chance it comes upon this archæological journal, finds the discussion nothing more than a mental gymnastic, which, as thereader drops off to sleep, gives him the impression that the writer is aman of profound brain capacity, but, like the remains of the great manof olden times, as dry as dust. 

There is one thing, however, which has been overlooked. This scientificjournal does not contain the ultimate results of the archæologist'sresearches. It contains the researches themselves. The public, so tospeak, has been listening to the pianist playing his morning scales, hasbeen watching the artist mixing his colours, has been examining theunshaped block of marble and the chisels in the sculptor's studio. Itmust be confessed, of course, that the archæologist has so enjoyed hisresearches that often the ultimate result has been overlooked by him. Inthe case of Egyptian archæology, for example, there are only twoEgyptologists who have ever set themselves to write a readablehistory, [1] whereas the number of books which record the facts of thescience is legion. 

 [Footnote 1: Professor J. H. Breasted and Sir Gaston Maspero. ]

The archæologist not infrequently lives, for a large part of his time, in a museum, a somewhat dismal place. He is surrounded by rottingtapestries, decaying bones, crumbling stones, and rusted or corrodedobjects. His indoor work has paled his cheek, and his muscles are notlike iron bands. He stands, often, in the contiguity to an ancientbroadsword most fitted to demonstrate the fact that he could never useit. He would probably be dismissed his curatorship were he to tell ofany dreams which might run in his head--dreams of the time when thosetapestries hung upon the walls of barons' banquet-halls, or when thosestones rose high above the streets of Camelot. 

Moreover, those who make researches independently must needs contributetheir results to scientific journals, written in the jargon of thelearned. I came across a now forgotten journal, a short time ago, inwhich an English gentleman, believing that he had made a discovery inthe province of Egyptian hieroglyphs, announced it in ancient Greek. There would be no supply of such pedantic swagger were there not ademand for it. 

Small wonder, then, that the archæologist is often represented aspartaking somewhat of the quality of the dust amidst which he works. Itis not necessary here to discuss whether this estimate is just or not: Iwish only to point out its paradoxical nature. 

More than any other science, archæology might be expected to supply itsexponents with stuff that, like old wine, would fire the blood andstimulate the senses. The stirring events of the Past must often bereconstructed by the archæologist with such precision that hisprejudices are aroused, and his sympathies are so enlisted as to set himfighting with a will under this banner or under that. The noise of thehardy strife of young nations is not yet silenced for him, nor have theflags and the pennants faded from sight. He has knowledge of the statesecrets of kings, and, all along the line, is an intimate spectator ofthe crowded pageant of history. The caravan-masters of the elder days, the admirals of the "great green sea" the captains of archers, haverelated their adventures to him; and he might repeat to you theirstories. Indeed, he has such a tale to tell that, looking at it in thislight, one might expect his listeners all to be good fighting men andnoble women. It might be supposed that the archæologist would gatheraround him only men who have pleasure in the road that leads over thehills, and women who have known the delight of the open. One has heardso often of the "brave days of old" that the archæologist might well beexpected to have his head stuffed with brave tales and little else. 

His range, however, may be wider than this. To him, perhaps, it has beengiven to listen to the voice of the ancient poet, heard as a far-offwhisper; to breathe in forgotten gardens the perfume of long deadflowers; to contemplate the love of women whose beauty is all perishedin the dust; to hearken to the sound of the harp and the sistra, to bethe possessor of the riches of historical romance. Dim armies havebattled around him for the love of Helen; shadowy captains of sea-goingships have sung to him through the storm the song of the sweetheartsleft behind them; he has feasted with sultans, and kings' goblets havebeen held to his lips; he has watched Uriah the Hittite sent to theforefront of the battle. 

Thus, were he to offer a story, one might now suppose that there wouldgather around him, not the men of muscle, but a throng of sallowlisteners, as improperly expectant as were those who hearkened under themoon to the narrations of Boccaccio, or, in old Baghdad, gave ear to thetales of the thousand and one nights. One might suppose that hisaudience would be drawn from those classes most fondly addicted topleasure, or most nearly representative, in their land and in theirtime, of the light-hearted and not unwanton races of whom he had totell. For his story might be expected to be one wherein wine and womenand song found countenance. Even were he to tell of ancient tragediesand old sorrows, he would still make his appeal, one might suppose, togallants and their mistresses, to sporting men and women of fashion, just as, in the mournful song of Rosabelle, Sir Walter Scott is able toaddress himself to the "ladies gay, " or Coleridge in his sad "Ballad ofthe Dark Ladie" to "fair maids. "

Who could better arrest the attention of the coxcomb than thearchæologist who has knowledge of silks and scents now lost to theliving world? To the gourmet who could more appeal than the archæologistwho has made abundant acquaintance with the forgotten dishes of theEast? Who could so surely thrill the senses of the courtesan than thearchæologist who can relate that which was whispered by Anthony in theear of Cleopatra? To the gambler who could be more enticing than thearchæologist who has seen kings play at dice for their kingdoms? Theimaginative, truly, might well collect the most highly disreputableaudience to listen to the tales of the archæologist. 

But no, these are not the people who are anxious to catch the pearlswhich drop from his mouth. Do statesmen and diplomatists, then, listento him who can unravel for them the policies of the Past? Do businessmen hasten from Threadneedle Street and Wall Street to sit at his feet, that they may have instilled into them a little of the romance ofancient money? I fear not. 

Come with me to some provincial town, where this day Professor Blank isto deliver one of his archæological lectures at the Town Hall. We aremet at the door by the secretary of the local archæological society: amelancholy lady in green plush, who suffers from St Vitus's dance. Gloomily we enter the hall and silently accept the seats which areindicated to us by an unfortunate gentleman with a club-foot. In frontof us an elderly female with short hair is chatting to a very plainyoung woman draped like a lay figure. On the right an emaciated man witha very bad cough shuffles on his chair; on the left two old grey-beardsgrumble to one another about the weather, a subject which leads up tothe familiar "Mine catches me in the small of the back"; while behindus the inevitable curate, of whose appearance it would be trite tospeak, describes to an astonished old lady the recent discovery of thepelvis of a mastodon. 

The professor and the aged chairman step on to the platform; and, amidstthe profoundest gloom, the latter rises to pronounce the prefatoryrigmarole. "Archæology, " he says, in a voice of brass, "is a sciencewhich bars its doors to all but the most erudite; for, to the layman whohas not been vouchsafed the opportunity of studying the dusty volumes ofthe learned, the bones of the dead will not reveal their secrets, norwill the crumbling pediments of naos and cenotaph, the obliteratedtombstones, or the worm-eaten parchments, tell us their story. To-night, however, we are privileged; for Professor Blank will open the doors forus that we may gaze for a moment upon that solemn charnel-house of thePast in which he has sat for so many long hours of inductivemeditation. "

And the professor by his side, whose head, perhaps, was filled with themartial music of the long-lost hosts of the Lord, or before whose eyesthere swayed the entrancing forms of the dancing-girls of Babylon, stares horrified from chairman to audience. He sees crabbed old men andbarren old women before him, afflicted youths and fatuous maidens; andhe realises at once that the golden keys which he possesses to the gatesof the treasury of the jewelled Past will not open the doors of thatcharnel-house which they desire to be shown. The scent of the king'sroses fades from his nostrils, the Egyptian music which throbbed in hisears is hushed, the glorious illumination of the Palace of a ThousandColumns is extinguished; and in the gathering gloom we leave himfumbling with a rusty key at the mildewed door of the Place of Bones. 

Why is it, one asks, that archæology is a thing so misunderstood? Can itbe that both lecturer and audience have crushed down that which was inreality uppermost in their minds: that a shy search for romance has ledthese people to the Town Hall? Or perchance archæology has become tothem something not unlike a vice, and to listen to an archæologicallecture is their remaining chance of being naughty. It may be that, having one foot in the grave, they take pleasure in kicking the mossfrom the surrounding tombstones with the other; or that, being denied, for one reason or another, the jovial society of the living, like RobertSouthey's "Scholar" their hopes are with the dead. 

[Illustration: PL. VI. A relief upon the side of the sarcophagus of one of the wives of King Mentuhotep III. , discovered at Dêr el Bahri (Thebes). The royal lady is taking sweet-smelling ointment from an alabaster vase. A handmaiden keeps the flies away with a bird's-wing fan. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

Be the explanation what it may, the fact is indisputable that archæologyis patronised by those who know not its real meaning. A man has no moreright to think of the people of old as dust and dead bones than he hasto think of his contemporaries as lumps of meat. The true archæologistdoes not take pleasure in skeletons as skeletons, for his whole effortis to cover them decently with flesh and skin once more, and to putsome thoughts back into the empty skulls. He sets himself to hide againthe things which he would not intentionally lay bare. Nor does hedelight in ruined buildings: rather he deplores that they are ruined. Coleridge wrote like the true archæologist when he composed that mostmagical poem "Khubla Khan"--

 "In Xanadu did Khubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. "

And those who would have the pleasure-domes of the gorgeous Pastreconstructed for them must turn to the archæologist; those who wouldsee the damsel with the dulcimer in the gardens of Xanadu must ask ofhim the secret, and of none other. It is true that, before he canrefashion the dome or the damsel, he will have to grub his way throughold refuse heaps till he shall lay bare the ruins of the walls andexpose the bones of the lady. But this is the "dirty work"; and themistake which is made lies here: that this preliminary dirty work isconfused with the final clean result. An artist will sometimes build uphis picture of Venus from a skeleton bought from an old Jew round thecorner; and the smooth white paper which he uses will have been madefrom putrid rags and bones. Amongst painters themselves these facts arenot hidden, but by the public they are most carefully obscured. In thecase of archæology, however, the tedious details of construction are soplaced in the foreground that the final picture is hardly noticed atall. As well might one go to Rheims to see men fly, and be shown nothingelse but screws and nuts, steel rods and cog-wheels. Originally thefault, perhaps, lay with the archæologist; now it lies both with him andwith the public. The public has learnt to ask to be shown the works, andthe archæologist is often so proud of them that he forgets to mentionthe purpose of the machine. 

A Roman statue of bronze, let us suppose, is discovered in the Thamesvalley. It is so corroded and eaten away that only an expert couldrecognise that it represents a reclining goddess. In this condition itis placed in the museum, and a photograph of it is published in 'TheGraphic. ' Those who come to look at it in its glass case think it is abunch of grapes, or possibly a monkey: those who see its photograph saythat it is more probably an irregular catapult-stone or a fish inconvulsions. 

The archæologist alone holds its secret, and only he can see it as itwas. He alone can know the mind of the artist who made it, or interpretthe full meaning of the conception. It might have been expected, then, that the public would demand, and the archæologist delightedly furnish, a model of the figure as near to the original as possible; or, failingthat, a restoration in drawing, or even a worded description of itsoriginal beauty. But no: the public, if it wants anything, wants to seethe shapeless object in all its corrosion; and the archæologist forgetsthat it is blind to aught else but that corrosion. One of the mainduties of the archæologist is thus lost sight of: his duty asInterpreter and Remembrancer of the Past. 

All the riches of olden times, all the majesty, all the power, are theinheritance of the present day; and the archæologist is the recorder ofthis fortune. He must deal in dead bones only so far as the keeper of afinancial fortune must deal in dry documents. Behind those documentsglitters the gold, and behind those bones shines the wonder of thethings that were. And when an object once beautiful has by age becomeunsightly, one might suppose that he would wish to show it to none savehis colleagues or the reasonably curious layman. When a man makes thestatement that his grandmother, now in her ninety-ninth year, was once abeautiful woman, he does not go and find her to prove his words andbring her tottering into the room: he shows a picture of her as she was;or, if he cannot find one, he describes what good evidence tells him washer probable appearance. In allowing his controlled and soberimagination thus to perform its natural functions, though it would neverdo to tell his grandmother so, he becomes an archæologist, aremembrancer of the Past. 

In the case of archæology, however, the public does not permit itself soto be convinced. In the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford excellent facsimileelectrotypes of early Greek weapons are exhibited; and these have farmore value in bringing the Past before us than the actual weapons ofthat period, corroded and broken, would have. But the visitor says, "These are shams, " and passes on. 

It will be seen, then, that the business of archæology is oftenmisunderstood both by archæologists and by the public; and that there isreally no reason to believe, with Thomas Earle, that the realantiquarian loves a thing the better for that it is rotten and stinketh. That the impression has gone about is his own fault, for he has exposedtoo much to view the mechanism of his work; but it is also the fault ofthe public for not asking of him a picture of things as they were. 

Man is by nature a creature of the present. It is only by an effort thathe can consider the future, it is often quite impossible for him to giveany heed at all to the Past. The days of old are so blurred and remotethat it seems right to him that any relic from them should, by themaltreatment of Time, be unrecognisable. The finding of an old sword, half-eaten by rust, will only please him in so far as it shows him oncemore by its sad condition the great gap between those days and these, and convinces him again of the sole importance of the present. Thearchæologist, he will tell you, is a fool if he expects him to beinterested in a wretched old bit of scrap-iron. He is right. It would beas rash to suppose that he would find interest in an ancient sword inits rusted condition as it would be to expect the spectator at Rheims tofind fascination in the nuts and screws. The true archæologist wouldhide that corroded weapon in his workshop, where his fellow-workersalone could see it. For he recognises that it is only the sword which isas good as new that impresses the public; it is only the Present thatcounts. That is the real reason why he is an archæologist. He has turnedto the Past because he is in love with the Present. He, more than anyman, worships at the altar of the goddess of To-day; and he is sodesirous of extending her dominion that he has adventured, like acrusader, into the lands of the Past in order to subject them to her. Adoring the Now, he would resent the publicity of anything which soobviously suggested the Then as a rust-eaten old blade. His wholebusiness is to hide the gap between Yesterday and To-day; and, unless aman is initiate, he would have him either see the perfect sword as itwas when it sought the foeman's bowels, or see nothing. The Present istoo small for him; and it is therefore that he calls so insistently tothe Past to come forth from the darkness to augment it. The ordinaryman lives in the Present, and he will tell one that the archæologistlives in the Past. This is not so. The layman, in the manner of theLittle Englander, lives in a small and confined Present; but thearchæologist, like a true Imperialist, ranges through all time, andcalls it not the Past but the Greater Present. 

The archæologist is not, or ought not to be, lacking in vivacity. Onemight say that he is so sensible to the charms of society that, findinghis companions too few in number, he has drawn the olden times to him tosearch them for jovial men and agreeable women. It might be added thathe has so laughed at jest and joke that, fearing lest the funds ofhumour run dry, he has gathered the laughter of all the years to hisenrichment. Certainly he has so delighted in noble adventure andstirring action that he finds his newspaper insufficient to his needs, and fetches to his aid the tales of old heroes. In fact, thearchæologist is so enamoured of life that he would raise all the deadfrom their graves. He will not have it that the men of old are dust: hewould bring them to him to share with him the sunlight which he finds soprecious. He is so much an enemy of Death and Decay that he would robthem of their harvest; and, for every life the foe has claimed, he wouldraise up, if he could, a memory that would continue to live. 

The meaning of the heading which has been given to this chapter is nowbecoming clear, and the direction of the argument is already apparent. So far it has been my purpose to show that the archæologist is not arag-and-bone man, though the public generally thinks he is, and he oftenthinks he is himself. The attempt has been made to suggest thatarchæology ought not to consist in sitting in a charnel-house amongstthe dead, but rather in ignoring that place and taking the bones intothe light of day, decently clad in flesh and finery. It has now to beshown in what manner this parading of the Past is needful to the gaietyof the Present. 

Amongst cultured people whose social position makes it difficult forthem to dance in circles on the grass in order to express or tostimulate their gaiety, and whose school of deportment will not permitthem to sing a merry song of sixpence as they trip down the streets, there is some danger of the fire of merriment dying for want of fuel. Vivacity in printed books, therefore, has been encouraged, so that themind at least, if not the body, may skip about and clap its hands. Aportly gentleman with a solemn face, reading his 'Punch' in the club, is, after all, giving play to precisely those same humours which inancient days might have led him, like Georgy Porgy, to kiss the girls orto perform any other merry joke. It is necessary, therefore, ever toenlarge the stock of things humorous, vivacious, or rousing, if thoughtsare to be kept young and eyes bright in this age of restraint. Whatwould Yuletide be without the olden times to bolster it? What would theChristmas numbers do without the pictures of our great-grandparents'coaches snow-bound, of huntsmen of the eighteenth century, of jesters atthe courts of the barons? What should we do without the 'Vicar ofWakefield, ' the 'Compleat Angler, ' 'Pepys' Diary, ' and all the rest ofthe ancient books? And, going back a few centuries, what an amount weshould miss had we not 'Æsop's Fables, ' the 'Odyssey, ' the tales of theTrojan War, and so on. It is from the archæologist that one must expectthe augmentation of this supply; and just in that degree in which theexisting supply is really a necessary part of our equipment, soarchæology, which looks for more, is necessary to our gaiety. 

[Illustration: PL. VII. Lady rouging herself: she holds a mirror and rouge-pot. --FROM A PAPYRUS, TURIN. ]

[Illustration: Dancing girl turning a back somersault. --NEW KINGDOM. ]

In order to keep his intellect undulled by the routine of his drearywork, Matthew Arnold was wont to write a few lines of poetry each day. Poetry, like music and song, is an effective dispeller of care; andthose who find Omar Khayyam or "In Memoriam" incapable of removing theof burden of their woes, will no doubt appreciate the "Owl and thePussy-cat, " or the Bab Ballads. In some form or other verse and song areclosely linked with happiness; and a ditty from any age has itsinterests and its charm. 

 "She gazes at the stars above: I would I were the skies, That I might gaze upon my love With such a thousand eyes!"

That is probably from the Greek of Plato, a writer who is not muchread by the public at large, and whose works are the legitimate propertyof the antiquarian. It suffices to show that it is not only to themoderns that we have to look for dainty verse that is conducive to alight heart. The following lines are from the ancient Egyptian:--

 "While in my room I lie all day In pain that will not pass away, The neighbours come and go. Ah, if with them my darling came The doctors would be put to shame: _She_ understands my woe. "

Such examples might be multiplied indefinitely; and the reader willadmit that there is as much of a lilt about those which are here quotedas there is about the majority of the ditties which he has hummed tohimself in his hour of contentment. Here is Philodemus' description ofhis mistress's charms:--

 "My lady-love is small and brown; My lady's skin is soft as down; Her hair like parseley twists and turns; Her voice with magic passion burns.... "

And here is an ancient Egyptian's description of not very dissimilarphenomena:--

 "A damsel sweet unto the sight, A maid of whom no like there is; Black are her tresses as the night, And blacker than the blackberries. "

Does not the archæologist perform a service to his contemporaries bysearching out such rhymes and delving for more? They bring with them, moreover, so subtle a suggestion of bygone romance, they are backed byso fair a scene of Athenian luxury or Theban splendour, that theypossess a charm not often felt in modern verse. If it is argued thatthere is no need to increase the present supply of such ditties, sincethey are really quite unessential to our gaiety, the answer may be giventhat no nation and no period has ever found them unessential; and alight heart has been expressed in this manner since man came down fromthe trees. 

Let us turn now to another consideration. For a man to be light of hearthe must have confidence in humanity. He cannot greet the morn with asmiling countenance if he believes that he and his fellows are slippingdown the broad path which leads to destruction. The archæologist neverdespairs of mankind; for he has seen nations rise and fall till he isalmost giddy, but he knows that there has never been a generaldeterioration. He realises that though a great nation may suffer defeatand annihilation, it is possible for it to go down in such a thunderthat the talk of it stimulates other nations for all time. He sees, ifany man can, that all things work together for happiness. He hasobserved the cycle of events, the good years and the bad; and in an eviltime he is comforted by the knowledge that the good will presently rollround again. Thus the lesson which he can teach is a very realnecessity to that contentment of mind which lies at the root of allgaiety. 

Again, a man cannot be permanently happy unless he has a just sense ofproportion. He who is too big for his boots must needs limp; and he whohas a swollen head is in perpetual discomfort. The history of the livesof men, the history of the nations, gives one a fairer sense ofproportion than does almost any other study. In the great company of themen of old he cannot fail to assess his true value: if he has anyconceit there is a greater than he to snub him; if he has a poor opinionof his powers there is many a fool with whom to contrast himselffavourably. If he would risk his fortune on the spinning of a coin, being aware of the prevalence of his good-luck, archæology will tell himthat the best luck will change; or if, when in sore straits, he askswhether ever a man was so unlucky, archæology will answer him that manymillions of men have been more unfavoured than he. Archæology provides aprecedent for almost every event or occurrence where modern inventionsare not involved; and, in this manner, one may reckon their value anddetermine their trend. Thus many of the small worries which cause soleaden a weight to lie upon the heart and mind are by the archæologistignored; and many of the larger calamities by him are met with serenity. 

But not only does the archæologist learn to estimate himself and hisactions: he learns also to see the relationship in which his life standsto the course of Time. Without archæology a man may be disturbed lestthe world be about to come to an end: after a study of history he knowsthat it has only just begun; and that gaiety which is said to haveobtained "when the world was young" is to him, therefore, a presentcondition. By studying the ages the archæologist learns to reckon inunits of a thousand years; and it is only then that that little unit ofthreescore-and-ten falls into its proper proportion. "A thousand ages inThy sight are like an evening gone, " says the hymn, but it is only thearchæologist who knows the meaning of the words; and it is only he whocan explain that great discrepancy in the Christian faith between thestatement "Behold, I come quickly" and the actual fact. A man who knowswhere he is in regard to his fellows, and realises where he stands inregard to Time, has learnt a lesson of archæology which is as necessaryto his peace of mind as his peace of mind is necessary to his gaiety. 

It is not needful, however, to continue to point out the many ways inwhich archæology may be shown to be necessary to happiness. The readerwill have comprehended the trend of the argument, and, if he be insympathy with it, he will not be unwilling to develop the theme forhimself. Only one point, therefore, need here be taken up. It has beenreserved to the end of this chapter, for, by its nature, it closes allarguments. I refer to Death. 

Death, as we watch it around us, is the black menace of the heavenswhich darkens every man's day; Death, coming to our neighbour, puts aperiod to our merry-making; Death, seen close beside us, calls a halt inour march of pleasure. But let those who would wrest her victory fromthe grave turn to a study of the Past, where all is dead yet stilllives, and they will find that the horror of life's cessation ismaterially lessened. To those who are familiar with the course ofhistory, Death seems, to some extent, but the happy solution of thedilemma of life. So many men have welcomed its coming that one begins tofeel that it cannot be so very terrible. Of the death of a certainPharaoh an ancient Egyptian wrote: "He goes to heaven like the hawks, and his feathers are like those of the geese; he rushes at heaven like acrane, he kisses heaven like the falcon, he leaps to heaven like thelocust"; and we who read these words can feel that to rush eagerly atheaven like the crane would be a mighty fine ending of the pother. Archæology, and especially Egyptology, in this respect is a bulwark tothose who find the faith of their fathers wavering; for, after muchstudy, the triumphant assertion which is so often found in Egyptiantombs--"Thou dost not come dead to thy sepulchre, thou comestliving"--begins to take hold of the imagination. Death has been theparent of so much goodness, dying men have cut such a dash, that onelooks at it with an awakening interest. Even if the sense of themisfortune of death is uppermost in an archæologist's mind, he may findnot a little comfort in having before him the example of so many good, men, who, in their hour, have faced that great calamity with squaredshoulders. 

"When Death comes, " says a certain sage of ancient Egypt, "it seizes thebabe that is on the breast of its mother as well as he that has becomean old man. When thy messenger comes to carry thee away, be thou foundby him _ready_. " Why, here is our chance; here is the opportunity forthat flourish which modesty, throughout our life, has forbidden to us!John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, when the time came for him to lay hishead upon the block, bade the executioner smite it off with threestrokes as a courtesy to the Holy Trinity. King Charles the Second, ashe lay upon his death-bed, apologised to those who stood around him for"being an unconscionable time adying. " The story is familiar ofNapoleon's aide-de-camp, who, when he had been asked whether he werewounded, replied, "Not wounded: killed, " and thereupon expired. The Pastis full of such incidents; and so inspiring are they that Death comes tobe regarded as a most stirring adventure. The archæologist, too, betterthan any other, knows the vastness of the dead men's majority; and if, like the ancients, he believes in the Elysian fields, where no death isand decay is unknown, he alone will realise the excellent nature of thecompany into which he will there be introduced. 

There is, however, far more living going on in the world than dying; andthere is more happiness (thanks be!) than sorrow. Thus the archæologisthas a great deal more of pleasure than of pain to give to us for ourenrichment. The reader will here enter an objection. He will say: "Thismay be true of archæology in general, but in the case of Egyptology, with which we are here mostly concerned, he surely has to deal with asad and solemn people. " The answer will be found in the next chapter. Nonation in the world's history has been so gay, so light-hearted as theancient Egyptians; and Egyptology furnishes, perhaps, the mostconvincing proof that archæology is, or should be, a merry science, verynecessary to the gaiety of the world. I defy a man suffering from hisliver to understand the old Egyptians; I defy a man who does notappreciate the pleasure of life to make anything of them. Egyptianarchæology presents a pageant of such brilliancy that the archæologistis often carried along by it as in a dream, down the valley and over thehills, till, Past blending with Present, and Present with Future, hefinds himself led to a kind of Island of the Blest, where death isforgotten and only the joy of life, and life's good deeds, still remain;where pleasure-domes, and all the ancient "miracles of rare device, "rise into the air from above the flowers; and where the damsel with thedulcimer beside the running stream sings to him of Mount Abora and ofthe old heroes of the elder days. If the Egyptologist or thearchæologist could revive within him one-hundredth part of the elusiveromance, the delicate gaiety, the subtle humour, the intangibletenderness, the unspeakable goodness, of much that is to be found in hisprovince, one would have to cry, like Coleridge--

 "Beware, beware! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise. "

 PART II. 

 STUDIES IN THE TREASURY. 

 "And I could tell thee stories that would make thee laugh at all thy trouble, and take thee to a land of which thou hast never even dreamed. Where the trees have ever blossoms, and are noisy with the humming of intoxicated bees. Where by day the suns are never burning, and by night the moonstones ooze with nectar in the rays of the camphor-laden moon. Where the blue lakes are filled with rows of silver swans, and where, on steps of lapis lazuli, the peacocks dance in agitation at the murmur of the thunder in the hills. Where the lightning flashes without harming, to light the way to women stealing in the darkness to meetings with their lovers, and the rainbow hangs for ever like an opal on the dark blue curtain of the cloud. Where, on the moonlit roofs of crystal palaces, pairs of lovers laugh at the reflection of each other's love-sick faces in goblets of red wine, breathing, as they drink, air heavy with the fragrance of the sandal, wafted on the breezes from the mountain of the south. Where they play and pelt each other with emeralds and rubies, fetched at the churning of the ocean from the bottom of the sea. Where rivers, whose sands are always golden, flow slowly past long lines of silent cranes that hunt for silver fishes in the rushes on the banks. Where men are true, and maidens love for ever, and the lotus never fades. " F. W. BAIN: _A Heifer of the Dawn_. 

 CHAPTER IV. 

 THE TEMPERAMENT OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS. 

A certain school geography book, now out of date, condenses its remarksupon the character of our Gallic cousins into the following pregnantsentence: "The French are a gay and frivolous nation, fond of dancingand red wine. " The description would so nearly apply to the ancientinhabitants of Egypt, that its adoption here as a text to this chaptercannot be said to be extravagant. The unbiassed inquirer into theaffairs of ancient Egypt must discover ultimately, and perhaps to hisregret, that the dwellers on the Nile were a "gay and frivolous people, "festive, light-hearted, and mirthful, "fond of dancing and red wine, "and pledged to all that is brilliant in life. There are very manypeople, naturally, who hold to those views which their forefathers heldbefore them, and picture the Egyptians as a sombre, gloomy people;replete with thoughts of Death and of the more melancholy aspect ofreligion; burdened with the menacing presence of a multitude of horriblegods and demons, whose priests demanded the erection of vast temples fortheir appeasement; having little joy of this life, and much uneasyconjecture about the next; making entertainment in solemn gatherings andponderous feasts; and holding merriment in holy contempt. Of the fivestartling classes into which the dictionary divides the humantemperament, namely, the bilious or choleric, the phlegmatic, thesanguine, the melancholic, and the nervous, it is probable that thefirst, the second, and the fourth would be those assigned to the ancientEgyptians by these people. This view is so entirely false that one willbe forgiven if, in the attempt to dissolve it, the gaiety of the race isthrust before the reader with too little extenuation. The sanguine, andperhaps the nervous, are the classes of temperament under which theEgyptians must be docketed. It cannot be denied that they were anindustrious and even a strenuous people, that they indulged in the mostserious thoughts, and attempted to study the most complex problems oflife, and that the ceremonial side of their religion occupied a largepart of their time. But there is abundant evidence to show that, liketheir descendents of the present day, they were one of the least gloomypeople of the world, and that they took their duties in the most buoyantmanner, allowing as much sunshine to radiate through their minds asshone from the cloudless Egyptian skies upon their dazzling country. 

It is curiously interesting to notice how general is the present beliefin the solemnity of this ancient race's attitude towards existence, and how little their real character is appreciated. Already the readerwill be protesting, perhaps, that the application of the geographer'ssummary of French characteristics to the ancient Egyptians lessens in nowise its ridiculousness, but rather increases it. Let the protest, however, be held back for a while. Even if the Egyptians were not alwaysfrivolous, they were always uncommonly gay, and any slight exaggerationwill be pardoned in view of the fact that old prejudices have to beviolently overturned, and the stigma of melancholy and ponderoussobriety torn from the national name. It would be a matter of littlesurprise to some good persons if the products of excavation in the NileValley consisted largely of antique black kid gloves. 

[Illustration: PL. VIII. Two Egyptian boys decked with flowers and a third holding a musical instrument. They are standing against the outside wall of the Dendereh Temple. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _

Like many other nations the ancient Egyptians rendered mortuary serviceto their ancestors, and solid tomb-chapels had to be constructed inhonour of the more important dead. Both for the purpose of preservingthe mummy intact, and also in order to keep the ceremonies going for aslong a period of time as possible, these chapels were constructed in amost substantial manner, and many of them have withstood successfullythe siege of the years. The dwelling-houses, on the other hand, wereseldom delivered from father to son; but, as in modern Egypt, eachgrandee built a palace for himself, designed to last for a lifetimeonly, and hardly one of these mansions still exists even as a ruin. 

Moreover the tombs were constructed in the dry desert or in the solidhillside, whereas the dwelling-houses were situated on the damp earth, where they had little chance of remaining undemolished. And so it isthat the main part of our knowledge of the Egyptians is derived from astudy of their tombs and mortuary temples. How false would be ourestimate of the character of a modern nation were we to glean ourinformation solely from its churchyard inscriptions! We should knowabsolutely nothing of the frivolous side of the life of those whose barebones lie beneath the gloomy declaration of their Christian virtues. Itwill be realised how sincere was the light-heartedness of the Egyptianswhen it is remembered that almost everything in the following record oftheir gaieties is derived from a study of the tombs, and of objectsfound therein. 

Light-heartedness is the key-note of the ancient philosophy of thecountry, and in this assertion the reader will, in most cases, findcause for surprise. The Greek travellers in Egypt, who returned to theirnative land impressed with the wonderful mysticism of the Egyptians, committed their amazement to paper, and so led off that feeling of awedreverence which is felt for the philosophy of Pharaoh's subjects. But intheir case there was the presence of the priests and wise men eloquentlyto baffle them into the state of respect, and there were a thousandunwritten arguments, comments, articles of faith, and controvertedpoints of doctrine heard from the mouths of the believers, to surprisethem into a reverential attitude. But we of the present day have left tous only the more outward and visible remains of the Egyptians. There areonly the fundamental doctrines to work on, the more penetrating notes ofthe harmony to listen to. Thus the outline of the philosophy is able tobe studied without any complication, and we have no whirligig ofpriestly talk to confuse it. Examined in this way, working only fromcold stones and dry papyri, we are confronted with the old "Eat, drink, and be merry, " which is at once the happiest and most dangerousphilosophy conceived by man. It is to be noticed that this way oflooking at life is to be found in Egypt from the earliest times down tothe period of the Greek occupation of the country, and, in fact, untilthe present day. That is to say, it was a philosophy inborn in theEgyptian, --a part of his nature. 

Imhotep, the famous philosopher of Dynasty III. , about B. C. 3000, saidto his disciples: "Behold the dwellings of the dead. Their walls falldown, their place is no more; they are as though they had neverexisted"; and he drew from this the lesson that man is soon done withand forgotten, and that therefore his life should be as happy aspossible. To Imhotep must be attributed the earliest known exhortationto man to resign himself to his candle-end of a life, and to theinevitable snuffing-out to come, and to be merry while yet he may. Thereis a poem, dating from about B. C. 2000, from which the following istaken:--

 "Walk after thy heart's desire so long as thou livest. Put myrrh on thy head, clothe thyself in fine linen, anoint thyself with the true marvels of God.... Let not thy heart concern itself, until there cometh to thee that great day of lamentation. Yet he who is at rest can hear not thy complaint, and he who lies in the tomb can understand not thy weeping. Therefore, with smiling face, let thy days be happy, and rest not therein. For no man carrieth his goods away with him; "O, no man returneth again who is gone thither. "

Again, we have the same sentiments expressed in a tomb of about B. C. 1350, belonging to a certain Neferhotep, a priest of Amen. It is quotedon page 235, and here we need only note the ending:

 "Come, songs and music are before thee. Set behind thee all cares; think only upon gladness, until that day cometh whereon thou shalt go down to the land which loveth silence. "

A Ptolemaic inscription quoted more fully towards the end of thischapter reads: "Follow thy desire by night and by day. Put not carewithin thy heart. "

The ancient Egyptian peasants, like their modern descendants, werefatalists, and a happy carelessness seems to have softened thestrenuousness of their daily tasks. The peasants of the present day inEgypt so lack the initiative to develop the scope of their industriesthat their life cannot be said to be strenuous. In whatever work theyundertake, however, they show a wonderful degree of cheerfulness, and afine disregard for misfortune. Their forefathers, similarly, wentthrough their labours with a song upon their lips. In the tombs atSakkâra, dating from the Old Empire, there are scenes representingflocks of goats treading in the seed on the newly-sown ground, and theinscriptions give the song which the goat-herds sing:--

 "The goat-herd is in the water with the fishes, -- He speaks with the _nar_-fish, he talks with the pike; From the west is your goat-herd; your goat-herd is from the west. "

The meaning of the words is not known, of course, but the song seems tohave been a popular one. A more comprehensible ditty is that sung to theoxen by their driver, which dates from the New Empire:--

 "Thresh out for yourselves, ye oxen, thresh out for yourselves. Thresh out the straw for your food, and the grain for your masters. Do not rest yourselves, for it is cool to-day. "

Some of the love-songs have been preserved from destruction, and thesethrow much light upon the subject of the Egyptian temperament. A numberof songs, supposed to have been sung by a girl to her lover, formthemselves into a collection entitled "The beautiful and gladsome songsof thy sister, whom thy heart loves, as she walks in the fields. " Thegirl is supposed to belong to the peasant class, and most of the versesare sung whilst she is at her daily occupation of snaring wild duck inthe marshes. One must imagine the songs warbled without any particularrefrain, just as in the case of the modern Egyptians, who pour out theirancient tales of love and adventure in a series of bird-like cadences, full-throated, and often wonderfully melodious. A peculiar sweetness andtenderness will be noticed in the following examples, and though theysuffer in translation, their airy lightness and refinement is to bedistinguished. One characteristic song, addressed by the girl to herlover, runs--

 "Caught by the worm, the wild duck cries, But in the love-light of thine eyes I, trembling, loose the trap. So flies The bird into the air. What will my angry mother say? With basket full I come each day, But now thy love hath led me stray, And I have set no snare. "

Again, in a somewhat similar strain, she sings--

 "The wild duck scatter far, and now Again they light upon the bough And cry unto their kind; Anon they gather on the mere-- But yet unharmed I leave them there, For love hath filled my mind. "

Another song must be given here in prose form. The girl who sings it issupposed to be making a wreath of flowers, and as she works she cries--

 "I am thy first sister, and to me thou art as a garden which I have planted with flowers and all sweet-smelling herbs. And I have directed a canal into it, that thou mightest dip thy hand into it when the north wind blows cool. The place is beautiful where we walk, because we walk together, thy hand resting within mine, our mind thoughtful and our heart joyful. It is intoxicating to me to hear thy voice, yet my life depends upon hearing it. Whenever I see thee it is better to me than food and drink. "

One more song must be quoted, for it is so artless and so full of humantenderness that I may risk the accusation of straying from the mainargument in repeating it. It runs:--

 "The breath of thy nostrils alone Is that which maketh my heart to live. I found thee: God grant thee to me For ever and ever. "

It is really painful to think of these words as having fallen from thelips of what is now a resin-smelling lump of bones and hardened flesh, perhaps still unearthed, perhaps lying in some museum show-case, orperhaps kicked about in fragments over the hot sand of sometourist-crowded necropolis. Mummies are the most lifeless objects onecould well imagine. It is impossible even for those whose imaginationsare most powerful, to infuse life into a thing so utterly dead as anembalmed body; and this fact is partly responsible for that atmosphereof stark, melancholy, sobriety and aloofness which surrounds the affairsof ancient Egypt. In reading these verses, it is imperative for theirright understanding that the mummies and their resting-places should bebanished from the thoughts. It is not always a simple matter for thestudent to rid himself of the atmosphere of the museum, where the beadswhich should be jangling on a brown neck are lying numbered and labelledon red velvet; where the bird-trap, once the centre of such featheredcommotion, is propped up in a glass case as "D, 18, 432"; and where eventhe document in which the verses are written is the lawful booty of thegrammarian and philologist in the library. But it is the first duty ofan archæologist to do away with that atmosphere. 

Let those who are untrammelled then, pass out into the sunshine of theEgyptian fields and marshes, where the wild duck cry to each other asthey scuttle through the tall reeds. Here in the early morning comes oursongstress, and one may see her as clearly as one can that Shulamite ofKing Solomon's day, who has had the good fortune to belong to a landwhere stones and bones, being few in number, do not endanger theatmosphere of the literature. One may see her, her hair moving in thebreeze "as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead"; her teethwhite "as a flock of shorn sheep which came up from the washing, " andher lips "like a thread of scarlet. " Through such imaginings alone canone appreciate the songs, or realise the lightness of the manner inwhich they were sung. 

With such a happy view of life amongst the upper classes as isindicated by their philosophy, and with that merry disposition amongstthe peasants which shows itself in their love of song, it is notsurprising to find that asceticism is practically unknown in ancientEgypt before the time of Christ. At first sight, in reflecting on themysteries and religious ceremonies of the nation, we are apt to endowthe priests and other participators with a degree of austerity whollyunjustified by facts. We picture the priest chanting his formulæ in thedim light of the temple, the atmosphere about him heavy with incense;and we imagine him as an anchorite who has put away the things of thisworld. But in reality there seems to have been not even such a thing asa celibate amongst the priests. Each man had his wife and his family, his house, and his comforts of food and fine linen. He indulged in theusual pastimes and was present at the merriest of feasts. The famouswise men and magicians, such as Uba-ana of the Westcar Papyrus, hadtheir wives, their parks, their pleasure-pavilions, and their hosts ofservants. Great dignitaries of the Amon Church, such as Amenhotepsase, the Second Prophet of Amen in the time of Thutmosis IV. , are representedas feasting with their friends, or driving through Thebes inrichly-decorated chariots drawn by prancing horses, and attended by anarray of servants. A monastic life, or the life of an anchorite, washeld by the Egyptians in scorn; and indeed the state of mind whichproduces the monk and the hermit was almost entirely unknown to thenation in dynastic times. It was only in the Ptolemaic and Roman periodsthat asceticism came to be practised; and some have thought that itsintroduction into Egypt is to be attributed to the preaching of theHindoo missionaries sent from India to the court of the Ptolemies. It isnot really an Egyptian characteristic; and its practice did not last formore than a few centuries. 

The religious teachings of the Egyptians before the Ptolemaic era do notsuggest that the mortification of the flesh was a possible means ofpurifying the spirit. An appeal to the senses and to the emotions, however, was considered as a legitimate method of reaching the soul. TheEgyptians were passionately fond of ceremonial display. Their hugetemples, painted as they were with the most brilliant colours, formedthe setting of processions and ceremonies in which music, rhythmicmotion, and colour were brought to a point of excellence. In honour ofsome of the gods dances were conducted; while celebrations, such as thefantastic Feast of Lamps, were held on the anniversaries of religiousevents. In these gorgeously spectacular ceremonies there was no placefor anything sombre or austere, nor could they have been conceived byany but the most life-loving temperaments. 

As in his religious functions, so in his home, the Egyptian regardedbrilliancy and festivity as an edification. When in trouble ordistress, he was wont to relieve his mind as readily by an appeal to thevanities of this world as by an invocation of the powers of Heaven. Thus, when King Sneferu, of Dynasty IV. , was oppressed with the cares ofstate, his councillor Zazamankh constructed for him a pleasure boatwhich was rowed around a lake by the most beautiful damsels obtainable. And again, when Wenamon, the envoy of Herhor of Dynasty XXI. , had falleninto trouble with the pirates of the Mediterranean, his depression wasbanished by a gift of a dancing-girl, two vessels of wine, a young goatof tender flesh, and a message which read--"Eat and drink, and let notthy heart feel apprehension. "

An intense craving for brightness and cheerfulness is to be observed onall sides, and the attempt to cover every action of life with a kind oflustre is perhaps the most apparent characteristic of the race. At alltimes the Egyptians decked themselves with flowers, and rich and pooralike breathed what they called "the sweet north wind" through a screenof blossoms. At their feasts and festivals each guest was presented withnecklaces and crowns of lotus-flowers, and a specially selected bouquetwas carried in the hands. Constantly, as the hours passed, fresh flowerswere brought to them, and the guests are shown in the tomb paintings inthe act of burying their noses in the delicate petals with an air ofluxury which even the conventionalities of the draughtsman cannot hide. In the women's hair a flower was pinned which hung down before theforehead; and a cake of ointment, concocted of some sweet-smellingunguent, was so arranged upon the head that, as it slowly melted, itre-perfumed the flower. Complete wreaths of flowers were sometimes worn, and this was the custom as much in the dress of the home as in that ofthe feast. The common people also arrayed themselves with wreaths oflotuses at all galas and carnivals. The room in which a feast was heldwas decorated lavishly with flowers. Blossoms crept up the delicatepillars to the roof; garlands twined themselves around the tables andabout the jars of wine; and single buds lay in every dish of food. Eventhe dead were decked in their tombs with a mass of flowers, as thoughthe mourners would hide with the living delights of the earth the miseryof the grave. 

The Egyptian loved his garden, and filled it with all manner ofbeautiful flowers. Great parks were laid out by the Pharaohs, and it isrecorded of Thutmosis III. That he brought back from his Asiaticcampaigns vast quantities of rare plants with which to beautify Thebes. Festivals were held at the season when the flowers were in full bloom, and the light-hearted Egyptian did not fail to make the flowers talk tohim, in the imagination, of the delights of life. In one case a fig-treeis made to call to a passing maiden to come into its shade. 

 "Come, " it says, "and spend this festal day, and to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow, sitting in my shadow. Let thy lover sit at thy side, and let him drink.... Thy servants will come with the dinner-things--they will bring drink of every kind, with all manner of cakes, flowers of yesterday and of to-day, and all kinds of refreshing fruit. "

Than this one could hardly find a more convincing indication of thegaiety of the Egyptian temperament. In the eighteenth and nineteenthcenturies A. D. The people were so oppressed that any display of luxurywas discouraged, and a happy smile brought the tax-gatherer to the doorto ascertain whether it was due to financial prosperity. But thecarrying of flowers, and other indications of a kind of unworriedcontentment, are now again becoming apparent on all sides. 

[Illustration: PL. IX. A garland of leaves and flowers dating from about B. C. 1000. It was placed upon the neck of a mummy. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

The affection displayed by the Egyptians for bright colours would aloneindicate that their temperament was not melancholic. The houses of therich were painted with colours which would be regarded as crude had theyappeared in the Occident, but which are admissible in Egypt where thenatural brilliancy of the sunshine and the scenery demands a moreextreme colour-scheme in decoration. The pavilions in which the nobles"made a happy day, " as they phrased it, were painted with the mostbrilliant wall-decorations, and the delicately-shaped lotus columnssupporting the roof were striped with half a dozen colours, and werehung with streamers of linen. The ceilings and pavements seem to haveafforded the artists a happy field for a display of their originalityand skill, and it is on these stretches of smooth-plastered surface thatgems of Egyptian art are often found. A pavement from the palace ofAkhnaton at Tell el Amârna shows a scene in which a cow is depictedfrisking through the reeds, and birds are represented flying over themarshes. In the palace of Amenhotep III. At Gurneh there was a ceilingdecoration representing a flight of doves, which, in its delicacy ofexecution and colouring, is not to be classed with the crude forms ofEgyptian decoration, but indicates an equally light-hearted temperamentin its creator. It is not probable that either bright colours ordaintiness of design would emanate from the brains of a sombre-mindedpeople. 

Some of the feminine garments worn in ancient Egypt were exceedinglygaudy, and they made up in colour all that they lacked in variety ofdesign. In the Middle and New Empires the robes of the men were asmany-hued as their wall decorations, and as rich in composition. One maytake as a typical example the costume of a certain priest who lived atthe end of Dynasty XVIII. An elaborate wig covers his head; a richlyornamented necklace surrounds his neck; the upper part of his body isclothed in a tunic of gauze-like linen; as a skirt there is swathedaround him the most delicately coloured fine linen, one end of which isbrought up and thrown gracefully over his arm; decorated sandals coverhis feet and curl up over his toes; and in his hand he carries ajewelled wand surmounted by feathers. It would be an absurdity to statethat these folds of fine linen hid a heart set on things higher thanthis world and its vanities. Nor do the objects of daily use found inthe tombs suggest any austerity in the Egyptian character. There is noreflection of the Underworld to be looked for in the ornamental bronzemirrors, nor smell of death in the frail perfume pots. Religiousabstraction is not to be sought in lotus-formed drinking-cups, andmortification of the body is certainly not practised on golden chairsand soft cushions. These were the objects buried in the tombs of thepriests and religious teachers. 

The puritanical tendency of a race can generally be discovered by astudy of the personal names of the people. The names by which theEgyptians called their children are as gay as they are pretty, and lackentirely the Puritan character. "Eyes-of-love, " "My-lady-is-as-gold, ""Cool-breeze, " "Gold-and-lapis-lazuli, " "Beautiful-morning, " areEgyptian names very far removed from "Through-trials-and-tribulations-we-enter-into-the-Kingdom-of-Heaven Jones, " which is the actual nameof a now living scion of a Roundhead family. And the well-known"Praise-God Barebones" has little to do with the Egyptian "Beautiful-Kitten, " "Little-Wild-Lion, " "I-have-wanted-you, " "Sweetheart, " andso on. 

The nature of the folk-tales is equally indicative of the temperamentof a nation. The stories which have come down to us from ancient Egyptare often as frivolous as they are quaint. Nothing delighted theEgyptians more than the listening to a tale told by an expertstory-teller; and it is to be supposed that such persons were in as muchdemand in the old days as they are now. One may still read of theadventures of the Prince who was fated to die by a dog, a snake, or acrocodile; of the magician who made the waters of the lake heapthemselves up that he might descend to the bottom dry-shod to recover alady's jewel; of the fat old wizard who could cut a man's head off andjoin it again to his body; of the fairy godmothers who made presents toa new-born babe; of the shipwrecked sailor who was thrown up on anisland inhabited by serpents with human natures; of the princess in thetower whose lovers spent their days in attempting to climb to herwindow, --and so on. The stories have no moral, they are not pompous:they are purely amusing, interesting, and romantic. As an example onemay quote the story which is told of Prince Setna, the son of RamesesII. This Prince was one day sitting in the court of the temple of Ptah, when he saw a woman pass "beautiful exceedingly, there being no woman ofher beauty. " There were wonderful golden ornaments upon her, and she wasattended by fifty-two persons, themselves of some rank and much beauty. "The hour that Setna saw her, he knew not the place on earth where hewas"; and he called to his servants and told them to "go quickly to theplace where she is, and learn what comes under her command. " Thebeautiful lady proved finally to be named Tabubna, the daughter of apriest of Bast, the Cat. Setna's acquaintance with her was later of amost disgraceful character; and, from motives which are not clear, shemade him murder his own children to please her. At the critical moment, however, when the climax is reached, the old, old joke is played uponthe listener, who is told that Setna then woke up, and discovered thatthe whole affair had been an afternoon dream in the shade of the templecourt. 

The Egyptians often amused themselves by drawing comic pictures andcaricatures, and there is an interesting series still preserved in whichanimals take the place of human beings, and are shown performing allmanner of antics. One sees a cat walking on its hind legs driving aflock of geese, while a wolf carrying a staff and knapsack leads a herdof goats. There is a battle of the mice and cats, and the king of themice, in his chariot drawn by two dogs, is seen attacking the fortressof the cats. A picture which is worthy of Edward Lear shows a ridiculoushippopotamus seated amidst the foliage of a tree, eating from a table, whilst a crow mounts a ladder to wait upon him. There are caricaturesshowing women of fashion rouging their faces, unshaven and reallyamusing old tramps, and so forth. Even upon the walls of the tombsthere are often comic pictures, in which one may see little girlsfighting and tearing at each others' hair, men tumbling one over anotheras they play, and the like; and one must suppose that these were thescenes which the owner of the tomb wished to perpetuate throughout theeternity of Death. 

The Egyptians took keen delight in music. In the sound of the trumpetand on the well-tuned cymbals they praised God in Egypt as merrily asthe Psalmist could wish. The strings and the pipe, the lute and theharp, made music at every festival--religious, national, or private. Plato tells us that "nothing but beautiful forms and fine music waspermitted to enter into the assemblies of young people" in Egypt; and hestates that music was considered as being of the greatest consequencefor its beneficial effects upon youthful minds. Strabo records the factthat music was largely taught in Egypt, and the numbers of musicalinstruments buried in the tombs or represented in the decorationsconfirm his statement. The music was scientifically taught, and aknowledge of harmony is apparent in the complicated forms of theinstruments. The harps sometimes had as many as twenty-two strings: thelong-handled guitars, fitted with three strings, were capable of widegradations; and the flutes were sufficiently complicated to be describedby early writers as "many-toned. " The Egyptian did not merely bang adrum with his fist because it made a noise, nor blow blasts upon atrumpet as a means of expressing the inexpressible. He was an educatedmusician, and he employed the medium of music to encourage his lightnessof heart and to render his gaiety more gay. 

[Illustration: PL. X. A relief of the Saitic Period, representing an old man playing upon a harp, and a woman beating a drum. Offerings of food and flowers are placed before them. --ALEXANDRIA MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

One sees representations of the women in a rich man's harem amusingthemselves by dancing and singing. In the tomb of Ay there is a sceneshowing the interior of the women's quarters, and here the ladies areshown dancing, playing guitars, feasting, or adorning themselves withtheir jewellery; while the store-rooms are seen to be filled with allmanner of musical instruments, as well as mirrors, boxes of clothes, andarticles of feminine use. At feasts and banquets a string band playedduring the meal, and songs were sung to the accompaniment of the harp. At religious festivals choruses of male and female voices wereintroduced. Soldiers marched through the streets to the sound oftrumpets and drums, and marriage processions and the like were led by aband. At the feasts it was customary for the dancing-girls, who wereemployed for the amusement of the guests, to perform their dances and toplay a guitar or a flute at the same time. One sees representations ofgirls, their heads thrown back and their long hair flying, merrilytwanging a guitar as they skip round the room. In the civil andreligious processions many of the participators danced along as thoughfrom sheer lightness of heart; and on some occasions even the bandfooted it down the high-road, circling, jumping, and skipping as theyplayed. 

The words for "rejoice" and "dance" were synonymous in the literature ofthe Egyptians. In early days dancing naturally implied rejoicing, andrejoicing was most easily expressed by dancing. But the Egyptians of therefined periods more often danced to amuse themselves, regarding it, just as we do at the present day, as an exhilaration. Persons of theupper classes, however, did not indulge very freely in it, but preferredto watch the performances of professional dancers. At all banquetsdancing was as indispensable as wine, women, and song, and it ratherdepended on the nature of the wine and women as to whether the guestsjoined personally in the sport or sat still while the dancers swayedaround the room. The professionals were generally women, but sometimesmen were employed, and one sees representations of a man performing somedifficult solo while a chorus of women sings and marks time by clappingthe hands. Men and women danced together on occasions, but as a generalrule the Egyptian preferred to watch the movements of the more gracefulsex by themselves. The women sometimes danced naked, to show off thegrace of their poses and the suppleness of their muscles; sometimes theywere decked with ribbons only; and sometimes they wore transparentdresses made of linen of the finest texture. It was not unusual forthem to carry tambourines and castanets with which to beat time to theirdances. On the other hand, there were delicate and sober performances, unaccompanied by music. The paintings show some of the poses to havebeen exceedingly graceful, and there were character dances enacted inwhich the figures must have been highly dramatic and artistic. Forexample, the tableau which occurs in one dance, and is called "TheWind, " shows two of the dancing-girls bent back like reeds when the windblows upon them, while a third figure stands over them in protection, asthough symbolising the immovable rocks. 

But more usually the merry mood of the Egyptians asserted itself, as itso often does at the present day, in a demand for something approachingnearer to buffoonery. The dancers whirled one another about in thewildest manner, often tumbling head over heels on the floor. A trick, attended generally with success, consisted in the attempt by the dancersto balance the body upon the head without the support of the arms. Thisbuffoonery was highly appreciated by the audience which witnessed it;and the banqueting-room must have been full of the noise of riotousmirth. One cannot, indeed, regard a feast as pompous or solemn at whichthe banging of the tambourines and the click of castanets vied with theclatter of the dishes and the laughter of the guests in creating ageneral hullabaloo. Let those state who will that the Egyptian was agloomy individual, but first let them not fail to observe that sameEgyptian standing upon his head amidst the roars of laughter of hisfriends. 

Dancing as a religious ceremony is to be found in many primitivecountries, and in Egypt it exists at the present day in more than oneform. In the days of the Pharaohs it was customary to institute dancesin honour of some of the gods, more especially those deities whoseconcerns were earthy--that is to say, those connected with love, joy, birth, death, fertility, reproduction, and so on. It will be rememberedhow David danced before the Ark of the Lord, and how his ancestorsdanced in honour of the golden calf. In Egypt the king was wont to dancebefore the great god Min of the crops, and at harvest-time the peasantsperformed their thanksgiving before the figures of Min in this manner. Hathor and Bast, the two great goddesses of pleasure, were worshipped inthe dance. Hathor was mistress of sports and dancing, and patron ofamusements and mirth, joy and pleasure, beauty and love; and in regardto the happy temperament of the Egyptians, it is significant that thisgoddess was held in the highest esteem throughout the history of thenation. 

Bast was honoured by a festival which for merriment and frivolity couldnot well be equalled. The festival took place at Bubastis, and isdescribed by Herodotus in the following words:--

 "This is the nature of the ceremony on the way to Bubastis. They go by water, and numerous boats are crowded with persons of both sexes. During the voyage several women strike the cymbals, some men play the flute, the rest singing and clapping their hands. As they pass near a town they bring the boat close to the bank. Some of the women continue to sing and play the cymbals; others cry out as long as they can, and utter mocking jests against the people of the town, who begin to dance, while the former pull up their clothes before them in a scoffing manner. The same is repeated at every town they pass upon the river. Arrived at Bubastis, they celebrate the festival of Bast, sacrificing a great number of victims, and on that occasion a greater consumption of wine takes place than during the whole of the year. "

At this festival of Bast half the persons taking part in thecelebrations must have become intoxicated. The Egyptians were alwaysgiven to wine-drinking, and Athenæus goes so far as to say that theywere a nation addicted to systematic intemperance. The same writer, onthe authority of Hellanicus, states that the vine was cultivated in theNile valley at a date earlier than that at which it was first grown byany other people; and it is to this circumstance that Dion attributesthe Egyptian's love of wine. Strabo and other writers speak of the winesof Egypt as being particularly good, and various kinds emanating fromdifferent localities are mentioned. The wines made from grapes were ofthe red and white varieties; but there were also fruit wines, made frompomegranates and other fruits. In the lists of offerings inscribed onthe walls of temples and tombs one sees a large number of varietiesrecorded--wines from the north, wines from the south, wines provincial, and wines foreign. Beer, made of barley, was also drunk very largely, and this beverage is heartily commended by the early writers. Indeed, the wine and beer-bibber was so common an offender against the dignityof the nation, that every moralist who arose had a word to say againsthim. Thus, for example, in the Maxims of Ani one finds the moralistwriting--

 "Do not put thyself in a beer-house. An evil thing are words reported as coming from thy mouth when thou dost not know that they have been said by thee. When thou fallest thy limbs are broken, and nobody giveth thee a hand. Thy comrades in drink stand up, saying, 'Away with this drunken man. '"

The less thoughtful members of society, however, considered drunkennessas a very good joke, and even went so far as to portray it in their tombdecorations. One sees men carried home from a feast across the shouldersof three of their companions, or ignominiously hauled out of the houseby their ankles and the scruff of their neck. In the tomb of Paheri atEl Kab women are represented at a feast, and scraps of theirconversation are recorded, such, for instance, as "Give me eighteen cupsof wine, for I should love to drink to drunkenness: my inside is as dryas straw. " There are actually representations of women overcome withnausea through immoderate drinking, and being attended by servants whohave hastened with basins to their assistance. In another tomb-paintinga drunken man is seen to have fallen against one of the delicatepillars of the pavilion with such force that it has toppled over, to thedismay of the guests around. 

In the light of such scenes as these one may picture the life of anEgyptian in the elder days as being not a little depraved. One sees themen in their gaudy raiment, and the women luxuriously clothed, stainingtheir garments with the wine spilt from the drinking-bowls as theirhands shake with their drunken laughter; and the vision of Egyptiansolemnity is still further banished at the sight. It is only too obviousthat a land of laughter and jest, feasting and carouse, must be situatedtoo near a Pompeian volcano to be capable of endurance, and theinhabitants too purposeless in their movements to avoid at some time orother running into the paths of burning lava. The people of Egypt wentmerrily through the radiant valley in which they lived, employing allthat the gods had given them, --not only the green palms, the thousandbirds, the blue sky, the hearty wind, the river and its reflections, butalso the luxuries of their civilisation, --to make for themselves a frailfeast of happiness. And when the last flowers, the latest emptydrinking-cup, fell to the ground, nothing remained to them but thatsodden, drunken night of disgrace which shocks one so at the end of thedynastic history, and which inevitably led to the fall of the nation. Christian asceticism came as the natural reaction and Muhammedanstrictness followed in due course; and it required the force of boththese movements to put strength and health into the people once more. 

[Illustration: PL. XI. An Egyptian noble of the Eighteenth Dynasty hunting birds with a boomerang and decoys. He stands in a reed-boat which floats amidst the papyrus clumps, and a cat retrieves the fallen birds. In the boat with him are his wife and son. --FROM A THEBAN TOMB-PAINTING, BRITISH MUSEUM. ]

One need not dwell, however, on this aspect of the Egyptian temperament. It is more pleasing, and as pertinent to the argument, to follow the oldlords of the Nile into the sunshine once more, and to glance for amoment at their sports. Hunting was a pleasure to them, in which theyindulged at every opportunity. One sees representations of this withgreat frequency upon the walls of the tombs. A man will be shownstanding in a reed boat which has been pushed in amongst the wavingpapyrus. A boomerang is in his hand, and his wife by his side helps himto locate the wild duck, so that he may penetrate withinthrowing-distance of the birds before they rise. Presently up they gowith a whir, and the boomerang claims its victims; while all manner ofsmaller birds dart from amidst the reeds, and gaudy butterflies passstartled overhead. Again one sees the hunter galloping in his chariotover the hard sand of the desert, shooting his arrows at the gazelle ashe goes. Or yet again with his dogs he is shown in pursuit of thelong-eared Egyptian hare, or of some other creature of the desert. Whennot thus engaged he may be seen excitedly watching a bullfight, oreagerly judging the merits of rival wrestlers, boxers, and fencers. Onemay follow him later into the seclusion of his garden, where, surroundedby a wealth of trees and flowers, he plays draughts with his friends, romps with his children, or fishes in his artificial ponds. There ismuch evidence of this nature to show that the Egyptian was as much givento these healthy amusements as he was to the mirth of the feast. Josephus states that the Egyptians were a people addicted to pleasure, and the evidence brought together in the foregoing pages shows that hisstatement is to be confirmed. In sincere joy of living they surpassedany other nation of the ancient world. Life was a thing of such delightto the Egyptian, that he shrank equally from losing it himself and fromtaking it from another. His prayer was that he might live to be acentenarian. In spite of the many wars of the Egyptians, there was lessunnecessary bloodshed in the Nile valley than in any other country whichcalled itself civilised. Death was as terrible to them as it wasinevitable, and the constant advice of the thinker was that the livingshould make the most of their life. When a king died, it was said that"he went forth to heaven having spent life in happiness, " or that "herested after life, having completed his years in happiness. " It is truethat the Egyptians wished to picture the after-life as one of continuousjoy. One sees representations of a man's soul seated in the shade of thefruit-trees of the Underworld, while birds sing in the branches abovehim, and a lake of cool water lies before him; but they seemed to knowthat this was too pleasant a picture to be the real one. A woman, thewife of a high priest, left upon her tombstone the followinginscription, addressed to her husband:--

 "O, brother, husband, friend, " she says, "thy desire to drink and to eat hath not ceased. Therefore be drunken, enjoy the love of women--make holiday. Follow thy desire by night and by day. Put not care within thy heart. Lo! are not these the years of thy life upon earth? For as for the Underworld, it is a land of slumber and heavy darkness, a resting-place for those who have passed within it. Each sleepeth there in his own form, they never awake to see their fellows, they behold not their fathers nor their mothers, their heart is careless of their wives and children. "

She knows that she will be too deeply steeped in the stupor of theUnderworld to remember her husband, and unselfishly she urges him tocontinue to be happy after the manner of his nation. Then, in a passagewhich rings down the years in its terrible beauty, she tells of herutter despair, lying in the gloomy Underworld, suffocated with the mummybandages, and craving for the light, the laughter, and the coolness ofthe day. 

 "The water of life, " she cries, "with which every mouth is moistened, is corruption to me, the water that is by me corrupteth me. I know not what to do since I came into this valley. Give me running water, say to me, 'Water shall not cease to be brought to thee. ' Turn my face to the north wind upon the edge of the water. Verily thus shall my heart be cooled and refreshed from its pain. "

It is, however, the glory of life, rather than the horror of death, which is the dominant note in the inscriptions and reliefs. The scenesin the tomb decorations seem to cry out for very joy. The artist hasimprisoned in his representations as much sheer happiness as was everinfused into cold stone. One sees there the gazelle leaping over thehills as the sun rises, the birds flapping their wings and singing, thewild duck rising from the marshes, and the butterflies flashingoverhead. The fundamental joy of living--that gaiety of life which thehuman being may feel in common with the animals--is shown in thesescenes as clearly as is the merriment in the representations of feastsand dancing. In these paintings and reliefs one finds an exactillustration to the joyful exhortation of the Psalmist as he cries, "Letthe heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; ... Let the fields bejoyful, and all that is therein. " In a land where, to quote one of theirown poems, "the tanks are full of water and the earth overflows withlove, " where "the cool north wind" blows merrily over the fields, andthe sun never ceases to shine, it would be a remarkable phenomenon ifthe ancient Egyptians had not developed the sanguine temperament. Theforegoing pages have shown them at their feasts, in their dailyoccupations, and in their sports, and the reader will find that it isnot difficult to describe them, in the borrowed words of the oldgeographer, as a people always gay and often frivolous, andnever-ceasingly "fond of dancing and red wine. "

 CHAPTER V. 

 THE MISFORTUNES OF WENAMON. 

In the third chapter of this book it has been shown that thearchæologist is, to some extent, enamoured of the Past because it canadd to the stock of things which are likely to tickle the fancy. Sohumorous a man is he, so fond of the good things of life, so stirred byits adventures, so touched by its sorrows, that he must needs go to thePast to replenish his supplies, as another might go to Paris orTimbuctoo. 

Here, then, is the place to give an example of the entertainment whichhe is likely to find in this province of his; and if the reader candetect any smell of dust or hear any creak of dead bones in the storywhich follows, it will be a matter of surprise to me. 

In the year 1891, at a small village in Upper Egypt named El Hibeh, somenatives unearthed a much damaged roll of papyrus which appeared to themto be very ancient. Since they had heard that antiquities have a marketvalue they did not burn it along with whatever other scraps ofinflammable material they had collected for their evening fire, butpreserved it, and finally took it to a dealer, who gave them in exchangefor it a small sum of money. From the dealer's hands it passed into thepossession of Monsieur Golenischeff, a Russian Egyptologist, whohappened at the time to be travelling in Egypt; and by him it wascarried to St Petersburg, where it now rests. This _savant_ presentlypublished a translation of the document, which at once caused asensation in the Egyptological world; and during the next few years fouramended translations were made by different scholars. The interest shownin this tattered roll was due to the fact that it had been found tocontain the actual report written by an official named Wenamon to hischief, the High Priest of Amon-Ra, relating his adventures in theMediterranean while procuring cedar-wood from the forests of Lebanon. The story which Wenamon tells is of the greatest value to Egyptology, giving as it does a vivid account of the political conditions obtainingin Syria and Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Rameses XII. ; but italso has a very human interest, and the misfortunes of the writer mayexcite one's sympathy and amusement, after this lapse of three thousandyears, as though they had occurred at the present time. 

In the time at which Wenamon wrote his report Egypt had fallen on evildays. A long line of incapable descendants of the great Rameses II. AndRameses III. Had ruled the Nile valley; and now a wretched ghost of aPharaoh, Rameses XII. , sat upon the throne, bereft of all power, a rulerin name only. The government of the country lay in the hands of twogreat nobles: in Upper Egypt, Herhor, High Priest of Amon-Ra, wasundisputed master; and in Lower Egypt, Nesubanebded, a prince of thecity of Tanis (the Zoan of the Bible), virtually ruled as king of theDelta. Both these persons ultimately ascended the throne of thePharaohs; but at the time of Wenamon's adventures the High Priest wasthe more powerful of the two, and could command the obedience of thenorthern ruler, at any rate in all sacerdotal matters. The priesthood ofAmon-Ra was the greatest political factor in Egyptian life. That god'sname was respected even in the courts of Syria, and though his power wasnow on the wane, fifty years previously the great religious body whichbowed the knee to him was feared throughout all the countriesneighbouring to Egypt. The main cause of Wenamon's troubles was the lackof appreciation of this fact that the god's influence in Syria was notas great as it had been in the past; and this report would certainly nothave been worth recording here if he had realised that prestige is, ofall factors in international relations, the least reliable. 

In the year 1113 B. C. The High Priest undertook the construction of aceremonial barge in which the image of the god might be floated upon thesacred waters of the Nile during the great religious festivals atThebes; and for this purpose he found himself in need of a large amountof cedar-wood of the best quality. He therefore sent for Wenamon, whoheld the sacerdotal title of "Eldest of the Hall of the Temple of Amon, "and instructed him to proceed to the Lebanon to procure the timber. Itis evident that Wenamon was no traveller, and we may perhaps bepermitted to picture him as a rather portly gentleman of middle age, notwanting either in energy or pluck, but given, like some of hiscountrymen, to a fluctuation of the emotions which would jump him fromsmiles to tears, from hope to despair, in a manner amazing to any but anEgyptian. To us he often appears as an overgrown baby, and hismisfortunes have a farcical nature which makes its appeal as muchthrough the medium of one's love of the ludicrous as through that ofone's interest in the romance of adventure. Those who are acquaintedwith Egypt will see in him one of the types of naif, delightful childrenof the Nile, whose decorous introduction into the parlour of the nationsof to-day is requiring such careful rehearsal. 

For his journey the High Priest gave Wenamon a sum of money, and ascredentials he handed him a number of letters addressed to Egyptian andSyrian princes, and intrusted to his care a particularly sacred littleimage of Amon-Ra, known as Amon-of-the-Road, which had probablyaccompanied other envoys to the Kingdoms of the Sea in times past, andwould be recognised as a token of the official nature of any embassywhich carried it. 

Thus armed Wenamon set out from El Hibeh--probably the ancient Hetbennu, the capital of the Eighteenth Province of Upper Egypt--on the sixteenthday of the eleventh month of the fifth year of the reign of Rameses XII. (1113 B. C. ), and travelled down the Nile by boat to Tanis, a distance ofsome 200 miles. On his arrival at this fair city of the Delta, whosetemples and palaces rose on the borders of the swamps at the edge of thesea, Wenamon made his way to the palace of Nesubanebded, and handed tohim the letters which he had received from the High Priest. These werecaused to be read aloud; and Nesubanebded, hearing that Wenamon wasdesirous of reaching the Lebanon as soon as possible, made the necessaryarrangements for his immediate despatch upon a vessel which happenedthen to be lying at the quay under the command of a Syrian skipper namedMengebet, who was about to set out for the Asiatic coast. On the firstday of the twelfth month, that is to say fourteen days after hisdeparture from his native town, Wenamon set sail from Tanis, crossingthe swamps and heading out into "the Great Syrian Sea. "

The voyage over the blue rippling Mediterranean was calm and prosperousas the good ship sailed along the barren shores of the land of theShasu, along the more mountainous coast of Edom, and thence northwardspast the cities of Askalon and Ashdod. To Wenamon, however, the journeywas fraught with anxiety. He was full of fears as to his reception inSyria, for the first of his misfortunes had befallen him. Although hehad with him both money and the image of Amon-of-the-Road, in theexcitement and hurry of his departure he had entirely forgotten toobtain again the bundle of letters of introduction which he had givenNesubanebded to read; and thus there were grave reasons for supposingthat his mission might prove a complete failure. Mengebet was evidentlya stern old salt who cared not a snap of the fingers for Amon or hisenvoy, and whose one desire was to reach his destination as rapidly aswind and oars would permit; and it is probable that he refused bluntlyto return to Tanis when Wenamon informed him of the oversight. This andthe inherent distrust of an Egyptian for a foreigner led Wenamon toregard the captain and his men with suspicion; and one must imagine himseated in the rough deck-cabin gloomily guarding the divine image andhis store of money. He had with him a secretary and probably two orthree servants; and one may picture these unfortunates anxiouslywatching the Syrian crew as they slouched about the deck. It is furtherto be remembered that, as a general rule, the Egyptians are mostextremely bad sailors. 

After some days the ship arrived at the little city of Dor, whichnestled at the foot of the Ridge of Carmel; and here they put in toreplenish their supplies. Wenamon states in his report that Dor was atthis time a city of the Thekel or Sicilians, some wandering band ofsea-rovers having left their native Sicily to settle here, at firstunder the protection of the Egyptians, but now independent of them. TheKing of Dor, by name Bedel, hearing that an envoy of the High Priest ofAmon-Ra had arrived in his harbour, very politely sent down to him ajoint of beef, some loaves of bread, and a jar of wine, upon whichWenamon must have set to with an appetite, after subsisting upon thescanty rations of the sea for so long a time. 

It may be that the wine was more potent than that to which the Egyptianwas accustomed; or perhaps the white buildings of the city, glisteningin the sunlight, and the busy quays, engrossed his attention toocompletely: anyhow, the second of his misfortunes now befel him. One ofthe Syrian sailors seized the opportunity to slip into his cabin and tosteal the money which was hidden there. Before Wenamon had detected therobbery the sailor had disappeared for ever amidst the houses of Dor. That evening the distracted envoy, seated upon the floor of his cabin, was obliged to chronicle the list of stolen money, which list wasafterwards incorporated in his report in the following manner:--

One vessel containing gold amounting to 5 debens, Four vessels containing silver amounting to 20 "One wallet containing silver amounting to 11 " ---------Total of what was stolen: gold, 5 debens; silver, 31 debens. 

A deben weighed about 100 grammes, and thus the robber was richer by500 grammes of gold, which in those days would have the purchasing valueof about £600 in our money, and 3100 grammes of silver, equal to about£2200. [1]

 [Footnote 1: See Weigall: Catalogue of Weights and Balances in the Cairo Museum, p. Xvi. ]

[Illustration: PL. XII. A reed box for holding clothing, discovered in the tomb of Yuaa and Tuau. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

Wenamon must have slept little that night, and early on the followingmorning he hastened to the palace of King Bedel to lay his case beforehim. Fortunately Bedel did not ask him for his credentials, but with theutmost politeness he gave his consideration to the affair. Wenamon'swords, however, were by no means polite, and one finds in them ablustering assurance which suggests that he considered himself apersonage of extreme consequence, and regarded a King of Dor as nothingin comparison with an envoy of Amon-Ra. 

"I have been robbed in your harbour, " he cried, so he tells us in thereport, "and, since you are the king of this land, you must be regardedas a party to the crime. You must search for my money. The money belongsto Nesubanebded, and it belongs to Herhor, my lord" (no mention, observe, of the wretched Rameses XII. ), "and to the other nobles ofEgypt. It belongs also to Weret, and to Mekmel, and to Zakar-Baal thePrince of Byblos. "[2] These latter were the persons to whom it was to bepaid. 

 [Footnote 2: The translation is based on that of Prof. Breasted. ]

The King of Dor listened to this outburst with Sicilian politeness, andreplied in the following very correct terms: "With all due respect toyour honour and excellency, " he said, "I know nothing of this complaintwhich you have lodged with me. If the thief belonged to my land and wenton board your ship in order to steal your money, I would advance you thesum from my treasury while they were finding the culprit. But the thiefwho robbed you belonged to your ship. Tarry, however, a few days herewith me and I will seek him. "

Wenamon, therefore, strode back to the vessel, and there remained, fuming and fretting, for nine long days. The skipper Mengebet, however, had no reason to remain at Dor, and seems to have told Wenamon that hecould wait no longer. On the tenth day, therefore, Wenamon retraced hissteps to the palace, and addressed himself once more to Bedel. "Look, "he said to the king, when he was ushered into the royal presence, "youhave not found my money, and therefore you had better let me go with myship's captain and with those.... " The rest of the interview is lost ina lacuna, and practically the only words which the damaged condition ofthe papyrus permits one now to read are, "He said, 'Be silent!'" whichindicates that even the patience of a King of Dor could be exhausted. 

When the narrative is able to be resumed one finds that Wenamon has setsail from the city, and has travelled along the coast to the proud cityof Tyre, where he arrived one afternoon penniless and letterless, having now nothing left but the little Amon-of-the-Road and his ownaudacity. The charms of Tyre, then one of the great ports of thecivilised world, were of no consequence to the destitute Egyptian, nordo they seem to have attracted the skipper of his ship, who, after hislong delay at Dor, was in no mood to linger. At dawn the next morning, therefore, the journey was continued, and once more an unfortunatelacuna interrupts the passage of the report. From the tattered fragmentsof the writing, however, it seems that at the next port of call--perhapsthe city of Sidon--a party of inoffensive Sicilian merchants wasencountered, and immediately the desperate Wenamon hatched a daringplot. By this time he had come to place some trust in Mengebet, theskipper, who, for the sake of his own good standing in Egypt, had shownhimself willing to help the envoy of Amon-Ra in his troubles, althoughhe would not go so far as to delay his journey for him; and Wenamontherefore admitted him to his councils. On some pretext or other a partyled by the Egyptian paid a visit to these merchants and entered intoconversation with them. Then, suddenly overpowering them, a rush wasmade for their cash-box, which Wenamon at once burst open. To hisdisappointment he found it to contain only thirty-one debens of silver, which happened to be precisely the amount of silver, though not of gold, which he had lost. This sum he pocketed, saying to the strugglingmerchants as he did so, "I will take this money of yours, and will keepit until you find my money. Was it not a Sicilian who stole it, and nothief of ours? I will take it. "

With these words the party raced back to the ship, scrambled on board, and in a few moments had hoisted sail and were scudding northwardstowards Byblos, where Wenamon proposed to throw himself on the mercy ofZakar-Baal, the prince of that city. Wenamon, it will be remembered, hadalways considered that he had been robbed by a Sicilian of Dor, notwithstanding the fact that only a sailor of his own ship could haveknown of the existence of the money, as King Bedel seems to have pointedout to him. The Egyptian, therefore, did not regard this forcibleseizure of silver from these other Sicilians as a crime. It was aperfectly just appropriation of a portion of the funds which belonged tohim by rights. Let us imagine ourselves robbed at our hotel by Hans theGerman waiter: it would surely give us the most profound satisfaction totake Herr Schnupfendorff, the piano-tuner, by the throat when next hevisited us, and go through his pockets. He and Hans, being of the samenationality, must suffer for one another's sins, and if the magistratethinks otherwise he must be regarded as prejudiced by too much study ofthe law. 

Byblos stood at the foot of the hills of Lebanon, in the very shadow ofthe great cedars, and it was therefore Wenamon's destination. Now, however, as the ship dropped anchor in the harbour, the Egyptianrealised that his mission would probably be fruitless, and that hehimself would perhaps be flung into prison for illegally having in hispossession the famous image of the god to which he could show no writtenright. Moreover, the news of the robbery of the merchants might wellhave reached Byblos overland. His first action, therefore, was toconceal the idol and the money; and this having been accomplished he sathimself down in his cabin to await events. 

The Prince of Byblos certainly had been advised of the robbery; and assoon as the news of the ship's arrival was reported to him he sent acurt message to the captain saying simply, "Get out of my harbour. " Atthis Wenamon gave up all hope, and, hearing that there was then in porta vessel which was about to sail for Egypt, he sent a pathetic messageto the prince asking whether he might be allowed to travel by it back tohis own country. 

No satisfactory answer was received, and for the best part of a monthWenamon's ship rode at anchor, while the distracted envoy paced thedeck, vainly pondering upon a fitting course of action. Each morning thesame brief order, "Get out of my harbour, " was delivered to him by theharbour-master; but the indecision of the authorities as to how to treatthis Egyptian official prevented the order being backed by force. Meanwhile Wenamon and Mengebet judiciously spread through the city thereport of the power of Amon-of-the-Road, and hinted darkly at the wrathwhich would ultimately fall upon the heads of those who suffered theimage and its keeper to be turned away from the quays of Byblos. Nodoubt, also, a portion of the stolen debens of silver was expended inbribes to the priests of the city, for, as we shall presently see, oneof them took up Wenamon's cause with the most unnatural vigour. 

All, however, seemed to be of no avail, and Wenamon decided to get awayas best he could. His worldly goods were quietly transferred to the shipwhich was bound for the Nile; and, when night had fallen, withAmon-of-the-Road tucked under his arm, he hurried along the desertedquay. Suddenly out of the darkness there appeared a group of figures, and Wenamon found himself confronted by the stalwart harbour-master andhis police. Now, indeed, he gave himself up for lost. The image would betaken from him, and no longer would he have the alternative of leavingthe harbour. He must have groaned aloud as he stood there in the blacknight, with the cold sea wind threatening to tear the covers from thetreasure under his arm. His surprise, therefore, was unbounded when theharbour-master addressed him in the following words: "Remain untilmorning here near the prince. "

The Egyptian turned upon him fiercely. "Are you not the man who came tome every day saying, "Get out of my harbour?" he cried. "And now areyou not saying, 'Remain in Byblos?' your object being to let this shipwhich I have found depart for Egypt without me, so that you may come tome again and say, 'Go away. '"

The harbour-master in reality had been ordered to detain Wenamon forquite another reason. On the previous day, while the prince wassacrificing to his gods, one of the noble youths in his train, who hadprobably seen the colour of Wenamon's debens, suddenly broke into areligious frenzy, and so continued all that day, and far into the night, calling incessantly upon those around him to go and fetch the envoy ofAmon-Ra and the sacred image. Prince Zakar-Baal had considered itprudent to obey this apparently divine command, and had sent theharbour-master to prevent Wenamon's departure. Finding, however, thatthe Egyptian was determined to board the ship, the official sent amessenger to the prince, who replied with an order to the skipper of thevessel to remain that night in harbour. 

Upon the following morning a deputation, evidently friendly, waited onWenamon, and urged him to come to the palace, which he finally did, incidentally attending on his way the morning service which was beingcelebrated upon the sea-shore. "I found the prince, " writes Wenamon inhis report, "sitting in his upper chamber, leaning his back against awindow, while the waves of the Great Syrian Sea beat against the wallbelow. I said to him, 'The mercy of Amon be with you!' He said to me, 'How long is it from now since you left the abode of Amon?' I replied, 'Five months and one day from now. '"

The prince then said, "Look now, if what you say is true, where is thewriting of Amon which should be in your hand? Where is the letter of theHigh Priest of Amon which should be in your hand?"

"I gave them to Nesubanebded, " replied Wenamon. 

"Then, " says Wenamon, "he was very wroth, and he said to me, 'Look here, the writings and the letters are not in your hand. And where is the fineship which Nesubanebded would have given you, and where is its pickedSyrian crew? He would not put you and your affairs in the charge of thisskipper of yours, who might have had you killed and thrown into the sea. Whom would they have sought the god from then?--and you, whom would theyhave sought you from then?' So said he to me, and I replied to him, 'There are indeed Egyptian ships and Egyptian crews that sail underNesubanebded, but he had at the time no ship and no Syrian crew to giveme. '"

The prince did not accept this as a satisfactory answer, but pointed outthat there were ten thousand ships sailing between Egypt and Syria, ofwhich number there must have been one at Nesubanebded's disposal. 

"Then, " writes Wenamon, "I was silent in this great hour. At length hesaid to me, 'On what business have you come here?' I replied, 'I havecome to get wood for the great and august barge of Amon-Ra, king of thegods. Your father supplied it, your grandfather did so, and you tooshall do it. ' So spoke I to him. "

The prince admitted that his fathers had sent wood to Egypt, but hepointed out that they had received proper remuneration for it. He thentold his servants to go and find the old ledger in which thetransactions were recorded, and this being done, it was found that athousand debens of silver had been paid for the wood. The prince nowargued that he was in no way the servant of Amon, for if he had been hewould have been obliged to supply the wood without remuneration. "I am, "he proudly declared, "neither your servant nor the servant of him whosent you here. If I cry out to the Lebanon the heavens open and the logslie here on the shore of the sea. " He went on to say that if, of hiscondescension, he now procured the timber Wenamon would have to providethe ships and all the tackle. "If I make the sails of the ships foryou, " said the prince, "they may be top-heavy and may break, and youwill perish in the sea when Amon thunders in heaven; for skilledworkmanship comes only from Egypt to reach my place of abode. " Thisseems to have upset the composure of Wenamon to some extent, and theprince took advantage of his uneasiness to say, "Anyway, what is thismiserable expedition that they have had you make (without money orequipment)?"

At this Wenamon appears to have lost his temper. "O guilty one!" he saidto the prince, "this is no miserable expedition on which I am engaged. There is no ship upon the Nile which Amon does not own, and his is thesea, and his this Lebanon of which you say, 'It is mine. ' Its forestsgrow for the barge of Amon, the lord of every ship. Why Amon-Ra himself, the king of the gods, said to Herhor, my lord, 'Send me'; and Herhormade me go bearing the statue of this great god. Yet see, you haveallowed this great god to wait twenty-nine days after he had arrived inyour harbour, although you certainly knew he was there. He is indeedstill what he once was: yes, now while you stand bargaining for theLebanon with Amon its lord. As for Amon-Ra, the king of the gods, he isthe lord of life and health, and he was the lord of your fathers, whospent their lifetime offering to him. You also, you are the servant ofAmon. If you will say to Amon, 'I will do this, ' and you execute hiscommand, you shall live and be prosperous and be healthy, and you shallbe popular with your whole country and people. Wish not for yourself athing belonging to Amon-Ra, king of the gods. Truly the lion loves hisown! Let my secretary be brought to me that I may send him toNesubanebded, and he will send you all that I shall ask him to send, after which, when I return to the south, I will send you all, all yourtrifles again. "

"So spake I to him, " says Wenamon in his report, as with a flourish ofhis pen he brings this fine speech to an end. No doubt it would havebeen more truthful in him to say, "So would I have spoken to him had Inot been so flustered"; but of all types of lie this is probably themost excusable. At all events, he said sufficient to induce the princeto send his secretary to Egypt; and as a token of good faith Zakar-Baalsent with him seven logs of cedar-wood. In forty-eight days' time themessenger returned, bringing with him five golden and five silver vases, twenty garments of fine linen, 500 rolls of papyrus, 500 ox-hides, 500coils of rope, twenty measures of lentils, and five measures of driedfish. At this present the prince expressed himself most satisfied, andimmediately sent 300 men and 300 oxen with proper overseers to start thework of felling the trees. Some eight months after leaving Tanis, Wenamon's delighted eyes gazed upon the complete number of logs lying atthe edge of the sea, ready for shipment to Egypt. 

The task being finished, the prince walked down to the beach to inspectthe timber, and he called to Wenamon to come with him. When the Egyptianhad approached, the prince pointed to the logs, remarking that the workhad been carried through although the remuneration had not been nearlyso great as that which his fathers had received. Wenamon was about toreply when inadvertently the shadow of the prince's umbrella fell uponhis head. What memories or anticipations this trivial incident arousedone cannot now tell with certainty. One of the gentlemen-in-waiting, however, found cause in it to whisper to Wenamon, "The shadow ofPharaoh, your lord, falls upon you"--the remark, no doubt, beingaccompanied by a sly dig in the ribs. The prince angrily snapped, "Lethim alone"; and, with the picture of Wenamon gloomily staring out tosea, we are left to worry out the meaning of the occurrence. It may bethat the prince intended to keep Wenamon at Byblos until the uttermostfarthing had been extracted from Egypt in further payment for the wood, and that therefore he was to be regarded henceforth as Wenamon's kingand master. This is perhaps indicated by the following remarks of theprince. 

"Do not thus contemplate the terrors of the sea, " he said to Wenamon. "For if you do that you should also contemplate my own. Come, I have notdone to you what they did to certain former envoys. They spent seventeenyears in this land, and they died where they were. " Then, turning to anattendant, "Take him, " he said, "and let him see the tomb in which theylie. "

"Oh, don't let me see it, " Wenamon tells us that he cried in anguish;but, recovering his composure, he continued in a more valiant strain. "Mere human beings, " he said, "were the envoys who were then sent. There was no god among them (as there now is). "

The prince had recently ordered an engraver to write a commemorativeinscription upon a stone tablet recording the fact that the king of thegods had sent Amon-of-the-Road to Byblos as his divine messenger andWenamon as his human messenger, that timber had been asked for andsupplied, and that in return Amon had promised him ten thousand years ofcelestial life over and above that of ordinary persons. Wenamon nowreminded him of this, asking him why he should talk so slightingly ofthe Egyptian envoys when the making of this tablet showed that inreality he considered their presence an honour. Moreover, he pointed outthat when in future years an envoy from Egypt should read this tablet, he would of course pronounce at once the magical prayers which wouldprocure for the prince, who would probably then be in hell after all, adraught of water. This remark seems to have tickled the prince's fancy, for he gravely acknowledged its value, and spoke no more in his formerstrain. Wenamon closed the interview by promising that the High Priestof Amon-Ra would fully reward him for his various kindnesses. 

Shortly after this the Egyptian paid another visit to the sea-shore tofeast his eyes upon the logs. He must have been almost unable to containhimself in the delight and excitement of the ending of his task and hisapproaching return, in triumph to Egypt; and we may see him jauntilywalking over the sand, perhaps humming a tune to himself. Suddenly heobserved a fleet of eleven ships sailing towards the town, and the songmust have died upon his lips. As they drew nearer he saw to his horrorthat they belonged to the Sicilians of Dor, and we must picture himbiting his nails in his anxiety as he stood amongst the logs. Presentlythey were within hailing distance, and some one called to them askingtheir business. The reply rang across the water, brief and terrible;"Arrest Wenamon! Let not a ship of his pass to Egypt. " Hearing thesewords the envoy of Amon-Ra, king of the gods, just now so proudlyboasting, threw himself upon the sand and burst into tears. 

The sobs of the wretched man penetrated to a chamber in which theprince's secretary sat writing at the open window, and he hurried overto the prostrate figure. "Whatever is the matter with you?" he said, tapping the man on the shoulder. 

Wenamon raised his head, "Surely you see these birds which descend onEgypt, " he groaned. "Look at them! They have come into the harbour, andhow long shall I be left forsaken here? Truly you see those who havecome to arrest me. "

With these words one must suppose that Wenamon returned to his weeping, for he says in his report that the sympathetic secretary went off tofind the prince in order that some plan of action might beformulated. When the news was reported to Zakar-Baal, he too began tolament; for the whole affair was menacing and ugly. Looking out of thewindow he saw the Sicilian ships anchored as a barrier across the mouthof the harbour, he saw the logs of cedar-wood strewn over the beach, hesaw the writhing figure of Wenamon pouring sand and dust upon his headand drumming feebly with his toes; and his royal heart was moved withpity for the misfortunes of the Egyptian. 

[Illustration: PL. XIII. A festival scene of singers and dancers from a tomb-painting of Dynasty XVII. --THEBES]

 [_Copied by H. Petrie. _

Hastily speaking to his secretary, he told him to procure two large jarsof wine and a ram, and to give them to Wenamon on the chance that theymight stop the noise of his lamentations. The secretary and his servantsprocured these things from the kitchen, and, tottering down with them tothe envoy, placed them by his side. Wenamon, however, merely glanced atthem in a sickly manner, and then buried his head once more. The failuremust have been observed from the window of the palace, for the princesent another servant flying off for a popular Egyptian lady of noreputation, who happened to be living just then at Byblos in thecapacity of a dancing-girl. Presently she minced into the room, verymuch elated, no doubt, at this indication of the royal favour. Theprince at once ordered her to hasten down on to the beach to comfort hercountryman. "Sing to him, " he said. "Don't let his heart feelapprehension. "

Wenamon seemed to have waved the girl aside, and we may picture theprince making urgent signs to the lady from his window to renew herefforts. The moans of the miserable man, however, did not cease, and theprince had recourse to a third device. This time he sent a servant toWenamon with a message of calm assurance. "Eat and drink, " he said, "andlet not your heart feel apprehension. You shall hear all that I have tosay in the morning. " At this Wenamon roused himself, and, wiping hiseyes, consented to be led back to his rooms, ever turning, no doubt, tocast nervous glances in the direction of the silent ships of Dor. 

On the following morning the prince sent for the leaders of theSicilians and asked them for what reason they had come to Byblos. Theyreplied that they had come in search of Wenamon, who had robbed some oftheir countrymen of thirty-one debens of silver. The prince was placedin a difficult position, for he was desirous to avoid giving offenceeither to Dor or to Egypt from whence he now expected further payment;but he managed to pass out on to clearer ground by means of a simplestratagem. 

"I cannot arrest the envoy of Amon in my territory, " he said to the menof Dor. "But I will send him away, and you shall pursue him and arresthim. "

The plan seems to have appealed to the sporting instincts of theSicilians, for it appears that they drew off from the harbour to awaittheir quarry. Wenamon was then informed of the scheme, and one maysuppose that he showed no relish for it. To be chased across a bilioussea by sporting men of hardened stomach was surely a torture for thedamned; but it is to be presumed that Zakar-Baal left the Egyptian somechance of escape. Hastily he was conveyed on board a ship, and hismisery must have been complete when he observed that outside the harbourit was blowing a gale. Hardly had he set out into the "Great Syrian Sea"before a terrific storm burst, and in the confusion which ensued we losesight of the waiting fleet. No doubt the Sicilians put in to Byblos oncemore for shelter, and deemed Wenamon at the bottom of the ocean as thewind whistled through their own bare rigging. 

The Egyptian had planned to avoid his enemies by beating northwards whenhe left the harbour, instead of southwards towards Egypt; but thetempest took the ship's course into its own hands and drove the frailcraft north-westwards towards Cyprus, the wooded shores of which were, in course of time, sighted. Wenamon was now indeed 'twixt the devil andthe deep sea, for behind him the waves raged furiously, and before himhe perceived a threatening group of Cypriots awaiting him upon thewind-swept shore. Presently the vessel grounded upon the beach, andimmediately the ill-starred Egyptian and the entire crew were prisonersin the hands of a hostile mob. Roughly they were dragged to the capitalof the island, which happened to be but a few miles distant, and withignominy they were hustled, wet and bedraggled, through the streetstowards the palace of Hetebe, the Queen of Cyprus. 

As they neared the building the queen herself passed by, surrounded by abrave company of nobles and soldiers. Wenamon burst away from hiscaptors, and bowed himself before the royal lady, crying as he did so, "Surely there is somebody amongst this company who understandsEgyptian. " One of the nobles, to Wenamon's joy, replied, "Yes, Iunderstand it. "

"Say to my mistress, " cried the tattered envoy, "that I have heard evenin far-off Thebes, the abode of Amon, that in every city injustice isdone, but that justice obtains in the land of Cyprus. Yet see, injusticeis done here also this day. "

This was repeated to the queen, who replied, "Indeed!--what is this thatyou say?"

Through the interpreter Wenamon then addressed himself to Hetebe. "Ifthe sea raged, " he said, "and the wind drove me to the land where I nowam, will you let these people take advantage of it to murder me, I whoam an envoy of Amon? I am one for whom they will seek unceasingly. Andas for these sailors of the prince of Byblos, whom they also wish tokill, their lord will undoubtedly capture ten crews of yours, and willslay every man of them in revenge. "

This seems to have impressed the queen, for she ordered the mob to standon one side, and to Wenamon she said, "Pass the night ... "

Here the torn writing comes to an abrupt end, and the remainder ofWenamon's adventures are for ever lost amidst the dust of El Hibeh. Onemay suppose that Hetebe took the Egyptian under her protection, and thatultimately he arrived once more in Egypt, whither Zakar-Baal had perhapsalready sent the timber. Returning to his native town, it seems thatWenamon wrote his report, which for some reason or other was neverdespatched to the High Priest. Perhaps the envoy was himself sent for, and thus his report was rendered useless; or perhaps our text is one ofseveral copies. 

There can be no question that he was a writer of great power, and thistale of his adventures must be regarded as one of the jewels of theancient Egyptian language. The brief description of the Prince ofByblos, seated with his back to the window, while the waves beat againstthe wall below, brings vividly before one that far-off scene, andreveals a lightness of touch most unusual in writers of that time. Thereis surely, too, an appreciation of a delicate form of humour observablein his account of some of his dealings with the prince. It is appallingto think that the peasants who found this roll of papyrus might haveused it as fuel for their evening fire; and that, had not a driftingrumour of the value of such articles reached their village, this littletale of old Egypt and the long-lost Kingdoms of the Sea would have goneup to empty heaven in a puff of smoke. 

 CHAPTER VI. 

 THE STORY OF THE SHIPWRECKED SAILOR. 

When the early Spanish explorers led their expeditions to Florida, itwas their intention to find the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, tales ofits potent waters having reached Peter Martyr as early as 1511. Thisdesire to discover the things pertaining to Fairyland has been, throughout history, one of the most fertile sources of adventure. Fromthe days when the archaic Egyptians penetrated into the regions south ofthe Cataracts, where they believed that the inhabitants were other thanhuman, and into Pount, the "Land of the Ghosts, " the hope of Fairylandhas led men to search the face of the earth and to penetrate into itsunknown places. It has been the theme of countless stories: it hassupplied material for innumerable songs. 

And in spite of the circumambulations of science about us, in spite ofthe hardening of all the tissues of our imagination, in spite of thephenomenal development of the commonplace, this desire for a glimpse ofthe miraculous is still set deeply in our hearts. The old quest ofFairyland is as active now as ever it was. We still presume, in ourunworthiness, to pass the barriers, and to walk upon those paths whichlead to the enchanted forests and through them to the city of the Moon. At any moment we are ready to set forth, like Arthur's knights, insearch of the Holy Grail. 

The explorer who penetrates into Central Africa in quest of KingSolomon's mines is impelled by a hope closely akin to that of theSpaniards. The excavator who digs for the buried treasures of the Incasor of the Egyptians is often led by a desire for the fabulous. Search isnow being made in the western desert of Egypt for a lost city ofburnished copper; and the Anglo-Egyptian official is constantly urged bycredulous natives to take camels across the wilderness in quest of atown whose houses and temples are of pure gold. What archæologist hasnot at some time given ear to the whispers that tell of long-losttreasures, of forgotten cities, of Atlantis swallowed by the sea? It is*not only children who love the tales of Fairyland. How happily we haveread Kipling's 'Puck of Pook's Hill, ' De la Motte Fouqué's 'Undine, 'Kenneth Grahame's 'Wind in the Willows, ' or F. W. Bain's Indian stories. The recent fairy plays--Barry's "Peter Pan, " Maeterlinck's "Blue Bird, "and the like--have been enormously successful. Say what we will, fairytales still hold their old power over us, and still we turn to them as arelief from the commonplace. 

 *Transcriber's note: In the original text the word "is" is omitted. 

Some of us, failing to find Fairyland upon earth, have transferred itto the kingdom of Death; and it has become the hope for the future. EachSunday in church the congregation of business men and hard-worked womenset aside the things of their monotonous life, and sing the songs of theendless search. To the rolling notes of the organ they tell the tale ofthe Elysian Fields: they take their unfilled desire for Fairyland andadjust it to their deathless hope of Heaven. They sing of crystalfountains, of streets paved with gold, of meadows dressed with livinggreen where they shall dwell as children who now as exiles mourn. Thereeverlasting spring abides and never-withering flowers; there tenthousand times ten thousand clad in sparkling raiment throng up thesteeps of light. Here in the church the most unimaginative people cryaloud upon their God for Fairyland. 

 "The roseate hues of early dawn, The brightness of the day, The crimson of the sunset sky, How fast they fade away! Oh, for the pearly gates of Heaven, Oh, for the golden floor.... "

They know no way of picturing the incomprehensible state of the future, and they interpret it, therefore, in terms of the fairy tale. 

I am inclined to think that this sovereignty of the fairies isbeneficial. Fairy tales fill the minds of the young with knowledge ofthe kindly people who will reward with many gifts those that arecharitable to the old; they teach a code of chivalry that brings as itsreward the love of the beautiful princess in the tower; they tell ofdangers overcome by courage and perseverance; they suggest a contactwith nature which otherwise might never be developed. Where angels andarchangels overawe by their omnipotence, the microscopic fairies who cansit singing upon a mushroom and dangle from the swaying stem of abluebell, carry the thoughts down the scale of life to the little andreally important things. A sleepy child will rather believe that theQueen of the Fairies is acting sentry upon the knob of the bedpost thanthat an angel stands at the head of the cot with great wings spread inprotection--wings which suggest the probability of claws and a beak tomatch. 

The dragons which can only be slain by the noble knight, theenchantments which can only be broken by the outwitting of the evilwitch, the lady who can only be won by perils bravely endured, form thematerial of moral lessons which no other method of teaching could soimpress upon the youthful mind. 

And when mature years are attained the atmosphere of Fairyland remainswith us. The lost songs of the little people drift through the brain, recalling the infinite possibilities of beauty and goodness which are soslightly out of reach; the forgotten wonder of elfs and browniessuggests itself to us from the heart of flowers and amidst the leaves oftrees. The clear depths of the sea take half their charm from thememory of the mermaid's palace; the silence of forests is rich with theexpectancy of the Knight of the Golden Plume; the large spaces ofkitchens and corridors are hushed for the concealment of RobinGoodfellow. 

It is the elusiveness, the enchantment, of Fairyland which, for themature mind, constitutes its greatest value and charm; it is a man'sdesire for the realms of Midsummer-night that makes the building ofthose realms in our childhood so valuable. We are constantlyendeavouring to recapture the grace of that intangible kingdom, and thehope of ultimate success retains the elasticity of the mind. Held fastby the stiffened joints of reason and closeted with the gout of science, we are fettered prisoners in the world unless there be the knowledgethat something eludes us to lead us on. We know quite well that thefairies do not exist, but at the same time we cannot deny that theelusive atmosphere of Fairyland is one with that of our fondest dreams. 

Who has not, upon a grey morning, awakened from sleep with the knowledgethat he has passed out from a kingdom of dream more dear than all therealms of real life? Vainly we endeavour to recall the lost details, butonly the impression remains. That impression, however, warms the tone ofour whole day, and frames our thoughts as it were with precious stones. Thus also it is with the memory of our childhood's idea of Fairyland:the impression is recalled, the brain peers forward, the thoughts go ontiptoe, and we feel that we have caught a glimpse of Beauty. Indeed, therecollection of the atmosphere created in our youthful minds by means offairy tales is perhaps the most abundant of the sources of our knowledgeof Beauty in mature years. 

I do not suppose that I am alone in declaring that some of the mosttender feelings of childhood are inspired by the misfortunes of theBeast in the story of "Beauty and the Beast"; and the Sleeping Beauty isthe first love of many a small boy. Man, from his youth up, cravesenchantment; and though the business of life gives him no opportunityfor the indulging in day-dreams, there are few of us indeed who have notat some time sought the phantom isles, and sought in vain. There is nostormy night, when the wind moans through the trees, and the moon-rackflies overhead, but takes something of its mystery from the recollectionof the enchantments of the dark ages. The sun does not sink into the seaamidst the low-lying clouds but some vague thought is brought to mind ofthe uncharted island whereon that maiden lies sleeping whose hair isdark as heaven's wrath, and whose breast is white like alabaster in thepathway of the moon. There she lies in the charmed circle under thetrees, where none may enter until that hour when some pale, lost marinershall surprise the secret of the pathway, and, coming suddenly upon her, shall kiss her shadowed lips. Vague, elusive, undefined, as suchfancies must be, they yet tinge the thoughts of almost every man atcertain moments of his life, and set him searching for the enchantmentof bygone days. Eagerly he looks for those

 "... Magic casements opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in fairy lands forlorn";

and it is the fact of their unreality that gives them their hauntingvalue. 

The following story, preserved in a papyrus now at St Petersburg, describes a mysterious island whereon there dwelt a monster most lovableand most forlorn: a creature so tenderly drawn, indeed, that the readerwill not fail to enthrone him in the little company of the nobility ofthe kingdom of the fairy tale. Translations of the story by two or threesavants have appeared; but the present version, which I give in itsliteral form, has been prepared especially for this volume by Mr AlanGardiner; and, coming from him, it may be said to be the last word ofthe science upon the subject of this difficult text. 

The scene with which the story opens is clearly indicated by theintroductory sentences, though actually it is not described. A largewar-galley had come swinging down the Nile from the land of Wawat in thesouth, the oars flashing in the Nubian sunlight. On the left the graniterocks of the island of Bigeh towered above the vessel; on the right theisland of Philæ, as yet devoid of buildings, rested placidly on theblue waters. Ahead were the docks of Shallal, where the clustered boatslay darkly against the yellow of the desert, and busy groups of figures, loading and unloading cargoes, moved to and fro over the sand. Away tothe left, behind Bigeh, the distant roar of the First Cataract could beheard as the waters went rushing down from Nubia across the frontierinto Egypt. 

[Illustration: PL. XIV. A sailor of Lower Nubia and his son. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _

The great vessel had just returned from the little-known country ofEthiopia, which bordered the Land of the Ghosts, having its frontiersupon the shores of the sea that encircled the world; and the sailorswere all straining their eyes towards these docks which formed thesouthernmost outpost of Egypt, their home. The greatest excitementprevailed on deck; but in the cabin, erected of vari-coloured cloth inthe stern of the vessel, the noble leader of the expedition which wasnow at its conclusion lay in a troubled sleep, tossing nervously uponhis bed. His dreams were all of the terrible ordeal which was beforehim. He could take no pleasure in his home-coming, for he was drivennigh crazy by the thought of entering the presence of the great Pharaohhimself in order to make his report. 

It is almost impossible to realise nowadays the agonies of mind that aman had to suffer who was obliged to approach the incarnation of the sunupon earth, and to crave the indulgence of this god in regard to anyshortcomings in the conduct of the affairs intrusted to him. Of all thekings of the earth the Pharaoh was the most terrible, the mostthoroughly frightening. Not only did he hold the lives of his subjectsin his hand to do with them as he chose, but he also controlled thewelfare of their immortal souls; for, being a god, he had dominion overthe realms of the dead. To be censured by the Pharaoh was to beexcommunicated from the pleasures of this earth and outlawed from thefair estate of heaven. A well-known Egyptian noble named Sinuhe, thehero of a fine tale of adventure, describes himself as petrified withterror when he entered the audience-chamber. "I stretched myself on mystomach, " he writes, "and became unconscious before him (the Pharaoh). This god addressed me kindly, but I was as a man overtaken by thetwilight: my soul departed, my flesh trembled; my heart was no more inmy body that I should know life from death. "[1] Similarly anotherpersonage writes: "Remember the day of bringing the tribute, when thoupassest into the Presence under the window, the nobles on each sidebefore his Majesty, the nobles and ambassadors (?) of all countries. They stand and gaze at the tribute, while thou fearest and shrinkestback, and thy hand is weak, and thou knowest not whether it is death orlife that is before thee; and thou art brave (only) in praying to thygods: 'Save me, prosper me this one time. '"[2]

 [Footnote 1: Sinuhe, 254-256. ]

 [Footnote 2: Papyrus Koller, 5, 1-4. ]

Of the Pharaoh it is written--

 "Thine eye is clearer than the stars of heaven; Thou seest farther than the sun. If I speak afar off, thine ear hears; If I do a hidden deed, thine eye sees it. "[1]

 [Footnote 1: Anastasi Papyri, 4, 5, 6 ff. ]

Or again--

 "The god of taste is in thy mouth, The god of knowledge is in thy heart; Thy tongue is enthroned in the temple of truth; God is seated upon thy lips. "[2]

 [Footnote 2: Kubban stela. ]

To meet face to face this all-knowing, all-seeing, celestial creature, from whom there could be no secrets hid nor any guilt concealed, was anordeal to which a man might well look forward with utter horror. It wasthis terrible dread that, in the tale with which we are now concerned, held the captain of this Nubian vessel in agony upon his couch. 

As he lay there, biting his finger-nails, one of the ship's officers, himself a former leader of expeditions, entered the cabin to announcetheir arrival at the Shallal docks. 

"Good news, prince, " said he cheerfully to his writhing master. "Look, we have reached home. They have taken the mallet and driven in themooring-post; the ship's cable has been put on land. There ismerrymaking and thanksgiving, and every man is embracing his fellow. Ourcrew has returned unscathed, without loss to our soldiers. We havereached the end of Wawat, we have passed Bigeh. Yes, indeed, we havereturned safely; we have reached our own land. "

At this the prince seems to have groaned anew, much to the distress ofhis friend, who could but urge him to pull himself together and to playthe man. 

"Listen to me, prince, " he begged, "for I am one void of exaggeration. Wash yourself, pour water on your fingers. "

The wretched, man replied, it would seem, with a repetition of hisfears; whereupon the old sailor seems to have sat down by his side andto have given him a word of advice as to how he should behave in theking's presence. "Make answer when you are addressed, " he said; "speakto the king with a heart in you; answer without restraint. For it is aman's mouth that saves him.... But do as you will: to talk to you iswearisome (to you). "

Presently the old sailor was seized with an idea. He would tell a story, no matter whether it were strictly true or not, in which his ownadventures should be set forth. He would describe how he was wreckedupon an unknown island, how he was saved from death, and how, on hisreturn, he conducted into the Pharaoh's presence. A narration of his ownexperiences before his sovereign might give heart to his captain, andmight effectually lift the intolerable burden of dread from the princelyshoulders. 

"I will relate to you, " he began, "a similar thing which befell me myvery self. I was making a journey to the mines of the sovereign ... "

The prince may here be supposed to have sat up and given gloomyattention to his friend's words, for Egyptians of all ages have loved agood story, and tales of adventures in the south were, in early times, most acceptable. The royal gold mines referred to were probably situatedat the southern-most end of the eastern Egyptian desert. To reach themone would take ship from Kossair or some other Red Sea port, sail downthe coast to the frontiers of Pount, the modern Somaliland, and thentravel inland by caravan. It was a perilous undertaking, and, at thetime when this story was written, the journey must have furnishedmaterial for amazing yarns. 

"I went down on the Great Green Sea, " continued the speaker, "in a shipone hundred and fifty cubits[1] in length and forty cubits in breadth, and in it were a hundred and fifty sailors, picked men of Egypt. Theyscanned the heavens and they scanned the earth, and their hearts werestouter than lions. They foretold the storm or ever it came, and thetempest when as yet it was not. "

 [Footnote 1: The average cubit was about 20-1/2 inches. ]

A storm arose while they were out of sight of land, and rapidlyincreased in violence, until the waves, according to the very restrainedestimate of the narrator, were eight cubits high--that is to say, aboutthirteen or fourteen feet. To one who was accustomed to the waves of theNile this would be a great height; and the passage thus suggests thatthe scribe was an untravelled man. A vessel of 150 cubits, or about 250feet, in length might have been expected to ride out a storm of thismagnitude; but, according to the story, she went to pieces, and thewhole ship's company, with the single exception of the teller of thetale, were drowned. The survivor managed to cling to a plank of wood, which was driven by the wind towards the shores of an uncharted island, and here at length he was cast up by the waves. 

Not far from the beach there was a small thicket, and to this thecastaway hastened, sheltering therein from the fury of the storm. Forthree days in deep despair he lay hidden, "without a companion, " as hesaid, "save my heart;" but at last the tempest subsided, the sun shonein the heavens once again, and the famished mariner was able to go insearch of food, which, to his delight, he found in abundance. 

The scene upon which he gazed as he plucked the fruit of the laden treeswas most mysterious, and all that he saw around him must have had anappearance not altogether consistent with reality, for, indeed, theisland was not real. It had been called into existence, perhaps, at thebidding of some god to relieve the tedium of an eternal afternoon, andsuddenly it had appeared, floating upon the blue waters of the ocean. How long it had remained there, how long it would still remain, nonecould tell, for at any moment the mind of the god might be diverted, andinstantly it would dissolve and vanish as would a dream. Beneath theisle the seas moved, and there in the darkness the fishes of the deep, with luminous, round eyes, passed to and fro, nibbling the roots of thetrees above them. Overhead the heavens stretched, and around aboutspread the expanse of the sea upon which no living thing might be seen, save only the dolphins as they leapt into the sunshine and sank againamidst the gleaming spray. 

There was abundant vegetation upon the island, but it does not appear tohave looked quite real. The fig-trees were heavy with fruit, the vineswere festooned from bough to bough, hung with clusters of grapes, andpomegranates were ripe for the plucking. But there seems to have been anunearthliness about them, as though a deep enchantment were upon them. In the tangled undergrowth through which the bewildered sailor walkedthere lay great melons and pumpkins. The breeze wafted to his nostrilsthe smell of the incense-trees; and the scent of the flowers, after thestorm, must have made every breath he breathed a pleasure of Paradise tohim. Moving over the luxuriant ground, he put up flights of wonderfulbirds which sped towards the interior, red, green, and golden, againstthe sky. Monkeys chattered at him from the trees, and sprang frombranch to branch amidst the dancing flowers. In shadowed pools of clearwater fishes were to be seen, gliding amidst the reeds; and amongst therocks beside the sea the castaway could look down upon the creatures ofthe deep imprisoned between the tides. 

Food in all forms was to hand, and he had but to fill his arms with thegood things which Fate had provided. "I found there, " he said, "figs, grapes, and all manner of goodly onions; melons and pomegranates werethere, and pumpkins of every kind. Fishes were there and fowls: therewas nought that was lacking in it. I satisfied myself, and set upon theground the abundance of that with which my arms were filled. I took thefire-borer and kindled a fire, and made a burnt-offering to the gods. "

Seated in the warm sunshine amidst the trees, eating a roast fowlseasoned with onions or some equally palatable concoction, he seems tohave found the life of a shipwrecked mariner by no means as distressingas he had anticipated; and the wording of the narrative appears to be soarranged that an impression of comfortable ease and security maysurround his sunlit figure. Suddenly, however, all was changed. "Iheard, " said he, "a sound as of thunder, and I thought it was the wavesof the sea. " Then "the trees creaked and the earth trembled"; and, likethe Egyptian that he was, he went down on his shaking hands and knees, and buried his face in the ground. 

At length "I uncovered my face, " he declared, "and I found it was aserpent that came, of the length of thirty cubits"--about fiftyfeet--"and his tail was more than two cubits" in diameter. "His skin wasoverlaid with gold, and his eyebrows were of real lapis lazuli, and hewas exceeding perfect. "

"He opened his mouth to me, " he continued, "as I lay on my stomachbefore him, and said to me: 'Who brought thee, who brought thee, littleone?--who brought thee? If thou delayest to tell me who brought thee tothis island I will cause thee to know thyself (again only) when thou artashes, and art become that which is not seen'"--that is to say, a ghost. 

"Thus you spoke to me, " whispered the old sailor, as though againaddressing the serpent, who, in the narration of these adventures, hadbecome once more a very present reality to him, "but I heard it not. Ilay before thee, and was unconscious. "

Continuing his story, he told how the great serpent lifted him tenderlyin his golden mouth, and carried him to his dwelling-place, setting himdown there without hurt, amongst the fruit-trees and the flowers. TheEgyptian at once flung himself upon his stomach before him, and laythere in a stupor of terror. The serpent, however, meant him no harm, and indeed looked down on him with tender pity as he questioned himonce more. 

"Who brought thee, who brought thee, little one?" he asked again, "Whobrought thee to this island of the Great Green Sea, whereof the (under)half is waves?"

On his hands and knees before the kindly monster the shipwreckedEgyptian managed to regain possession of his faculties sufficiently togive an account of himself. 

"I was going down to the mines, " he faltered, "on a mission of thesovereign, in a ship one hundred and fifty cubits in length and forty inbreadth, and in it were one hundred and fifty sailors, picked men ofEgypt. They scanned the heavens and they scanned the earth, and theirhearts were stouter than lions. They foretold the storm or ever it came, and the tempest when as yet it was not. Every one of them, his heart wasstout and his arm strong beyond his fellow. There was none unprovenamongst them. The storm arose while that we were on the Great Green Sea, before we touched land; and as we sailed it redoubled (its strength), and the waves thereof were eight cubits. There was a plank of wood towhich I clung. The ship perished, and of them that were in her not onewas left saving me alone, who now am at your side. And I was brought tothis island by the waves of the Great Green Sea. "

At this point the man seems to have been overcome once more withterror, and the serpent, therefore, hastened to reassure him. 

"Fear not, little one, " he said in his gentle voice; "fear not. Let notthy face be dismayed. If thou hast come to me it is God who has let theelive, who has brought thee to this phantom isle in which there is naughtthat is lacking, but it is full of all good things. Behold, thou shaltpass month for month until thou accomplish four months upon this island. And a ship shall come from home, and sailors in it whom thou knowest, and thou shalt go home with them, and shalt die in thine own city. "

"How glad is he, " exclaimed the old mariner as he related his adventuresto the prince, "how glad is he that recounts what he has experiencedwhen the calamity is passed!" The prince, no doubt, replied with amelancholy grunt, and the thread of the story was once more taken up. 

There was a particular reason why the serpent should be touched andinterested to hear how Providence had saved the Egyptian from death, forhe himself had survived a great calamity, and had been saved from anequally terrible fate, as he now proceeded to relate. 

"I will tell to thee the like thereof, " he said, "which happened in thisisland. I dwelt herein with my brothers, and my children were amongthem. Seventy-two serpents we were, all told, with my offspring and mybrothers; nor have I yet mentioned to thee a little girl brought to meby fortune. A star came down, and all these went up in the flames. Andit happened so that I was not together with them when they wereconsumed; I was not in their midst. I could have died (of grief) forthem when I found them as a single pile of corpses. "

It is clear from the story that this great serpent was intended to bepictured as a sad and lonely, but most lovable, character. All aloneupon this ghostly isle, the last of his race, one is to imagine himdreaming of the little girl who was taken from him, together with allhis family. Although fabulous himself, and half divine, he was yet thevictim of the gods, and was made to suffer real sorrows in his unrealexistence. Day by day he wandered over his limited domain, twisting hisgolden body amidst the pumpkins, and rearing himself above thefig-trees; thundering down to the beach to salute the passing dolphins, or sunning himself, a golden blaze, upon the rocks. There remainednaught for him to do but to await the cessation of the phantasy of hislife; and yet, though his lot was hard, he was ready at once tosubordinate his sorrows to those of the shipwrecked sailor before him. No more is said of his distress, but with his next words he seems tohave dismissed his own misfortunes, and to have attempted to comfort theEgyptian. 

"If thou art brave, " he said, "and restrainest thy longing, thou shaltpress thy children to thy bosom and kiss thy wife, and behold thyhouse--that is the best of all things. Thou shalt reach home, and shaltdwell there amongst thy brothers. "

"Thereat, " said the mariner, "I cast me upon my stomach and touched theground before him, and I said to him: 'I will tell of thy might to theSovereign, I will cause him to be acquainted with thy greatness. I willlet bring to thee perfume and spices, myrrh and sweet-scented woods, andincense of the sanctuaries wherewithal every god is propitiated. I willrecount all that has befallen me, and that which I have seen by hismight; and they shall praise thee in that city before the magistrates ofthe entire land. I will slaughter to thee oxen as a burnt-offering, geese will I pluck for thee, and I will let bring to thee vessels ladenwith all the goodly things of Egypt, as may be (fitly) done to a god wholoves men in a distant land, a land unknown to men. '"

At these words the serpent opened his golden mouth and fell to laughing. The thought that this little mortal, grovelling before him, couldbelieve himself able to repay the kindnesses received tickled himimmensely. 

"Hast thou not much incense (here, then)?" he laughed. "Art not become alord of frankincense? And I, behold I am prince of Pount, " the land ofperfumes, "and the incense, _that_ is my very own. As for the spiceswhich thou sayest shall be brought, they are the wealth of this island. But it shall happen when thou hast left this place, never shalt thou seethis island more, for it shall be changed to waves. "

The teller of the story does not relate in what manner he received thiswell-merited reproof. The gentle monster, no doubt, was tolerant of hispresumptuousness, and soon put him at his ease again. During the wholeperiod of the Egyptian's residence on the island, in fact, the goldenserpent seems to have been invariably kind to him. The days passed bylike a happy dream, and the spell of the island's enchantment possessedhim so that, in after times, the details of the events of every day werelost in the single illusion of the whole adventure. 

At last the ship arrived, as it had been foretold, and the sailorwatched her passing over the hazy sea towards the mysterious shore. "Iwent and got me up into a tall tree, " he said, "and I recognised thosethat were in it. And I went to report the matter (to the serpent), and Ifound that he knew it. "

Very tenderly the great monster addressed him. "Fare thee well, littleone, " he said "Fare thee well to thy house. Mayest thou see thy childrenand raise up a good name in thy city. Behold, such are my wishes forthee. "

"Then, " continued the sailor, "I laid me on my stomach, my arms werebended before him. And he gave me a freight of frankincense, perfume andmyrrh, sweet-scented woods and antimony, giraffes' tails, great heapsof incense, elephant tusks, dogs, apes and baboons, and all manner ofvaluable things. And I loaded them in that ship, and I laid myself on mystomach to make thanksgiving to him. Then he said to me: 'Behold, thoushalt come home in two months, and shalt press thy children to thybosom, and shalt flourish in their midst; and there thou shalt beburied. '"

[Illustration: PL. XV. A Nile boat passing the hills of Thebes. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _]

To appreciate the significance of these last words it is necessary toremember what an important matter it was to an Egyptian that he shouldbe buried in his native city. In our own case the position upon the mapof the place where we lay down our discarded bones is generally not offirst-rate importance, and the thought of being buried in foreign landsdoes not frighten us. Whether our body is to be packed away in thenecropolis of our city, or shovelled into a hole on the outskirts ofTimbuctoo, is not a matter of vital interest. There is a certainsentiment that leads us to desire interment amidst familiar scenes, butit is subordinated with ease to other considerations. To the Egyptian, however, it was a matter of paramount importance. "What is a greaterthing, " says Sinuhe in the tale of his adventures in Asia, "than that Ishould be buried in the land in which I was born?" "Thou shalt not diein a foreign land; Asiatics shall not conduct thee to the tomb, " saysthe Pharaoh to him; and again, "It is no little thing that thou shaltbe buried without Asiatics conducting thee. "[1] There is a stela nowpreserved in Stuttgart, in which the deceased man asks those who passhis tomb to say a prayer for his soul; and he adjures them in thesewords: "So truly as ye wish that your native gods should praise you, andthat ye should be established in your seats, and that ye should handdown your offices to your children: that ye should reach your homes insafety, and recount your travels to your wives;--then say a prayer, "&c. [2]

 [Footnote 1: Sinuhe, B. 159, 197, 258. ]

 [Footnote 2: Zeit. Aeg. Spr. , 39 (1901), p. 118. ]

The serpent was thus giving the castaway a promise which meant more tohim than all the other blessings, and it was with a light heart indeedthat he ran down to the beach to greet his countrymen. "I went down tothe shore where the ship was, " he continued, "and I called to thesoldiers which were in that ship, and I gave praises upon the shore tothe lord of this island, and likewise did they which were in the ship. "

Then he stepped on board, the gangway was drawn up, and, with a greatsweep of the oars, the ship passed out on to the open sea. Standing ondeck amongst the new cargo, the officers and their rescued friend bowedlow to the great serpent who towered above the trees at the water'sedge, gleaming in the sunshine. "Fare thee well, little one, " his deepvoice rolled across the water; and again they bowed in obeisance to him. The main-sail was unfurled to the wind, and the vessel scudded bravelyacross the Great Green Sea; but for some time yet they must have kepttheir eyes upon the fair shape of the phantom island, as the treesblended into the hills and the hills at last into the haze; and theirvision must have been focussed upon that one gleaming point where thegolden serpent, alone once more with his memories, watched the shipmoving over the fairy seas. 

"So sailed we northwards, " said the sailor, "to the place of theSovereign, and we reached home in two months, in accordance with allthat he had said. And I entered in before the Sovereign, and I broughtto him this tribute which I had taken away from within this island. Thengave he thanksgivings for me before the magistrates of the entire land. And I was made a 'Follower, ' and was rewarded with the serfs of such anone. "

The old sailor turned to the gloomy prince as he brought his story to anend. "Look at me, " he exclaimed, "now that I have reached land, now thatI have seen (again in memory) what I have experienced. Hearken thou tome, for behold, to hearken is good for men. "

But the prince only sighed the more deeply, and, with a despairinggesture, replied: "Be not (so) superior, my friend! Doth one give waterto a bird on the eve, when it is to be slain on the morrow?" With thesewords the manuscript abruptly ends, and we are supposed to leave theprince still disconsolate in his cabin, while his friend, unable tocheer him, returns to his duties on deck. 

 PART III. 

 RESEARCHES IN THE TREASURY. 

 "... And he, shall be, Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who loved, who suffered countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills?"

 --TENNYSON. 

 CHAPTER VII. 

 RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN EGYPT. 

There came to the camp of a certain professor, who was engaged inexcavating the ruins of an ancient Egyptian city, a young andfaultlessly-attired Englishman, whose thirst for dramatic adventure hadled him to offer his services as an unpaid assistant digger. Thisimmaculate personage had read in novels and tales many an account of thewonders which the spade of the excavator could reveal, and he firmlybelieved that it was only necessary to set a "nigger" to dig a littlehole in the ground to open the way to the treasuries of the Pharaohs. Gold, silver, and precious stones gleamed before him, in hisimagination, as he hurried along subterranean passages to the vaults oflong-dead kings. He expected to slide upon the seat of his verywell-made breeches down the staircase of the ruined palace which he hadentered by way of the skylight, and to find himself, at the bottom, inthe presence of the bejewelled dead. In the intervals between suchexperiences he was of opinion that a little quiet gazelle shooting wouldagreeably fill in the swiftly passing hours; and at the end of theseason's work he pictured himself returning to the bosom of his familywith such a tale to tell that every ear would be opened to him. 

On his arrival at the camp he was conducted to the site of his futurelabours; and his horrified gaze was directed over a large area ofmud-pie, knee-deep in which a few bedraggled natives slushed their waydownwards. After three weeks' work on this distressing site, theprofessor announced that he had managed to trace through the mud theoutline of the palace walls, once the feature of the city, and that thework here might now be regarded as finished. He was then conducted to adesolate spot in the desert, and until the day on which he fled back toEngland he was kept to the monotonous task of superintending a gang ofnatives whose sole business it was to dig a very large hole in the sand, day after day and week after week. 

It is, however, sometimes the fortune of the excavator to make adiscovery which almost rivals in dramatic interest the tales of hisyouth. Such as experience fell to the lot of Emil Brugsch Pasha when hewas lowered into an ancient tomb and found himself face to face with ascore of the Pharaohs of Egypt, each lying in his coffin; or again, whenMonsieur de Morgan discovered the great mass of royal jewels in one ofthe pyramids at Dachour. But such "finds" can be counted on the fingers, and more often an excavation is a fruitless drudgery. Moreover, thelife of the digger is not often a pleasant one. 

[Illustration: PL. XVI. The excavations on the site of the city of Abydos. ]

 [_Photo by the Author. _

It will perhaps be of interest to the reader of romances to illustratethe above remarks by the narration of some of my own experiences; butthere are only a few interesting and unusual episodes in which I havehad the peculiarly good fortune to be an actor. There will probably besome drama to be felt in the account of the more important discoveries(for there certainly is to the antiquarian himself); but it should bepointed out that the interest of these rare finds pales before thedescription, which many of us have heard, of how the archæologists of apast century discovered the body of Charlemagne clad in his royal robesand seated upon his throne, --which, by the way, is quite untrue. Inspite of all that is said to the contrary, truth is seldom stranger thanfiction; and the reader who desires to be told of the discovery ofburied cities whose streets are paved with gold should take warning intime and return at once to his novels. 

If the dawning interest of the reader has now been thoroughly cooled bythese words, it may be presumed that it will be utterly annihilated bythe following narration of my first fruitless excavation; and thus onewill be able to continue the story with the relieved consciousness thatnobody is attending. 

In the capacity of assistant to Professor Flinders Petrie, I was set, many years ago, to the task of excavating a supposed royal cemetery inthe desert behind the ancient city of Abydos, in Upper Egypt. Two moundswere first attacked; and after many weeks of work in digging through thesand, the superstructure of two great tombs was bared. In the case ofthe first of these several fine passages of good masonry were cleared, and at last the burial-chamber was reached. In the huge sarcophaguswhich was there found great hopes were entertained that the body andfuneral-offerings of the dead prince would be discovered; but when atlast the interior was laid bare the solitary article found was a copy ofa French newspaper left behind by the last, and equally disgusted, excavator. The second tomb defied the most ardent exploration, andfailed to show any traces of a burial. The mystery was at last solved byProfessor Petrie, who, with his usual keen perception, soon came to theconclusion that the whole tomb was a dummy, built solely to hide anenormous mass of rock chippings the presence of which had been a puzzlefor some time. These masons' chippings were evidently the output fromsome large cutting in the rock, and it became apparent that there mustbe a great rock tomb in the neighbourhood. Trial trenches in thevicinity presently revealed the existence of a long wall, which, beingfollowed in either direction, proved to be the boundary of a vast courtor enclosure built upon the desert at the foot of a conspicuous cliff. Aramp led up to the entrance; but as it was slightly askew and pointedto the southern end of the enclosure, it was supposed that the rocktomb, which presumably ran into the cliff from somewhere inside thisarea, was situated at that end. The next few weeks were occupied in thetedious task of probing the sand hereabouts, and at length in clearingit away altogether down to the surface of the underlying rock. Nothingwas found, however; and sadly we turned to the exact middle of thecourt, and began to work slowly to the foot of the cliff. Here, in thevery middle of the back wall, a pillared chamber was found, and itseemed certain that the entrance to the tomb would now be discovered. 

The best men were placed to dig out this chamber, and the excavator--itwas many years ago--went about his work with the weight of fame upon hisshoulders and an expression of intense mystery upon his sorelysun-scorched face. How clearly memory recalls the letter home that week, "We are on the eve of a great discovery"; and how vividly rises thepicture of the baking desert sand into which the sweating workmen wereslowly digging their way! But our hopes were short-lived, for it verysoon became apparent that there was no tomb entrance in this part of theenclosure. There remained the north end of the area, and on to this allthe available men were turned. Deeper and deeper they dug their way, until the mounds of sand thrown out formed, as it were, the lip of agreat crater. At last, some forty or fifty feet down, the underlyingrock was struck, and presently the mouth of a great shaft was exposedleading down into the bowels of the earth. The royal tomb had at lastbeen discovered, and it only remained to effect an entrance. The dayswere now filled with excitement, and, the thoughts being concentrated onthe question of the identity of the royal occupant of the tomb, it wassoon fixed in our minds that we were about to enter the burial-place ofno less a personage than the great Pharaoh Senusert III. (Sesostris), the same king whose jewels were found at Dachour. 

One evening, just after I had left the work, the men came down to thedistant camp to say that the last barrier was now reached and that anentrance could be effected at once. In the pale light of the moon, therefore, I hastened back to the desert with a few trusted men. As wewalked along, one of these natives very cheerfully remarked that weshould all probably get our throats cut, as the brigands of theneighbourhood got wind of the discovery, and were sure to attempt toenter the tomb that night. With this pleasing prospect before us wewalked with caution over the silent desert. Reaching the mound of sandwhich surrounded our excavation, we crept to the top and peeped overinto the crater. At once we observed a dim light below us, and almostimmediately an agitated but polite voice from the opposite mound calledout in Arabic, "Go away, mister. We have all got guns. " This remark wasfollowed by a shot which whistled past me; and therewith I slid down thehill once more, and heartily wished myself safe in my bed. Our partythen spread round the crater, and at a given word we proposed to rushthe place. But the enemy was too quick for us, and after the briefestscrimmage, and the exchanging* of a harmless shot or two, we foundourselves in possession of the tomb, and were able to pretend that wewere not a bit frightened. 

 *Transcriber's note: Original text read "exhanging". 

Then into the dark depths of the shaft we descended, and ascertainedthat the robbers had not effected an entrance. A long night watchfollowed, and the next day we had the satisfaction of arresting some ofthe criminals. The tomb was found to penetrate several hundred feet intothe cliff, and at the end of the long and beautifully worked passage thegreat royal sarcophagus was found--empty! So ended a very strenuousseason's work. 

If the experiences of a digger in Professor Petrie's camp are to beregarded as typical, they will probably serve to damp the ardour ofeager young gentlemen in search of ancient Egyptian treasure. One livesin a bare little hut constructed of mud, and roofed with cornstalks orcorrugated iron; and if by chance there happened to be a rain storm, asthere was when I was a member of the community, one may watch the frailbuilding gently subside in a liquid stream on to one's bed and books. For seven days in the week one's work continues, and it is only to thereal enthusiast that that work is not monotonous and tiresome. 

A few years later it fell to my lot to excavate for the Government thefuneral temple of Thutmosis III. At Thebes, and a fairly large sum wasspent upon the undertaking. Although the site was most promising inappearances, a couple of months' work brought to light hardly a singleobject of importance, whereas exactly similar sites in the sameneighbourhood had produced inscriptions of the greatest value. Two yearsago I assisted at an excavation upon a site of my own selection, the netresult of which, after six weeks' work, was one mummified cat! To sitover the work day after day, as did the unfortunate promoter of thisparticular enterprise, with the flies buzzing around his face and thesun blazing down upon him from a relentless sky, was hardly apleasurable task; and to watch the clouds of dust go up from thetip-heap, where tons of unprofitable rubbish rolled down the hillsideall day long, was an occupation for the damned. Yet that is excavatingas it is usually found to be. 

Now let us consider the other side of the story. In the Valley of theTombs of the Kings at Thebes excavations have been conducted for someyears by Mr Theodore M. Davis, of Newport, Rhode Island, by specialarrangement with the Department of Antiquities of the EgyptianGovernment; and as an official of that Department I have had theprivilege of being present at all the recent discoveries. The finding ofthe tomb of Yuaa and Tuau a few years ago was one of the mostinteresting archæological events of recent times, and one which camesomewhere near to the standard of romance set by the novelists. Yuaa andTuau were the parents of Queen Tiy, the discovery of whose tomb isrecorded in the next chapter. When the entrance of their tomb wascleared, a flight of steps was exposed, leading down to a passageblocked by a wall of loose stones. In the top right-hand corner a smallhole, large enough to admit a man, had been made in ancient times, andthrough this we could look down into a dark passage. As it was too latein the day to enter at once, we postponed that exciting experience untilthe morrow, and some police were sent for to guard the entrance duringthe night. I had slept the previous night over the mouth, and there wasnow no possibility of leaving the place for several more nights, so arough camp was formed on the spot. 

Here I settled myself down for the long watch, and speculated on theevents of the next morning, when Mr Davis and one or two well-knownEgyptologists were to come to the valley to open the sepulchre. Presently, in the silent darkness, a slight noise was heard on thehillside, and immediately the challenge of the sentry rang out. Thiswas answered by a distant call, and after some moments of alertness onour part we observed two figures approaching us. These, to my surprise, proved to be a well-known American artist and his wife, [1] who hadobviously come on the expectation that trouble was ahead; but though inthis they were certainly destined to suffer disappointment, still, outof respect for the absolute unconcern of both visitors, it may bementioned that the mouth of a lonely tomb already said by native rumourto contain incalculable wealth is not perhaps the safest place in theworld. Here, then, on a level patch of rock we three lay down and sleptfitfully until the dawn. Soon after breakfast the wall at the mouth ofthe tomb was pulled down, and the party passed into the low passagewhich sloped down to the burial chamber. At the bottom of this passagethere was a second wall blocking the way; but when a few layers had beentaken off the top we were able to climb, one by one, into the chamber. 

 [Footnote 1: Mr and Mrs Joseph Lindon Smith. ]

[Illustration: PL. XVII. Excavating the Osireion at Abydos. A chain of boys handing up baskets of sand to the surface. ]

 [_Photo by the Author. _

Imagine entering a town house which had been closed for the summer:imagine the stuffy room, the stiff, silent appearance of the furniture, the feeling that some ghostly occupants of the vacant chairs have justbeen disturbed, the desire to throw open the windows to let life intoroom once more. That was perhaps the first sensation as we stood, reallydumfounded, and stared around at the relics of the life of over threethousand years ago, all of which were as new almost as when they gracedthe palace of Prince Yuaa. Three arm-chairs were perhaps the firstobjects to attract the attention: beautiful carved wooden chairs, decorated with gold. Belonging to one of these was a pillow made of downand covered with linen. It was so perfectly preserved that one mighthave sat upon it or tossed it from this chair to that without doing itinjury. Here were fine alabaster vases, and in one of these we werestartled to find a liquid, like honey or syrup, still unsolidified bytime. Boxes of exquisite workmanship stood in various parts of the room, some resting on delicately wrought legs. Now the eye was directed to awicker trunk fitted with trays and partitions, and ventilated withlittle apertures, since the scents were doubtless strong. Two mostcomfortable beds were to be observed, fitted with springy stringmattresses and decorated with charming designs in gold. There in the farcorner, placed upon the top of a number of large white jars, stood thelight chariot which Yuaa had owned in his lifetime. In all directionsstood objects gleaming with gold undulled by a speck of dust, and onelooked from one article to another with the feeling that the entirehuman conception of Time was wrong. These were the things of yesterday, of a year or so ago. Why, here were meats prepared for the feasts in theUnderworld; here were Yuaa's favourite joints, each neatly placed in awooden box as though for a journey. Here was his staff, and here werehis sandals, --a new pair and an old. In another corner there stood themagical figures by the power of which the prince was to make his waythrough Hades. The words of the mystical "Chapter of the Flame" and ofthe "Chapter of the Magical Figure of the North Wall" were inscribedupon them; and upon a great roll of papyrus twenty-two yards in lengthother efficacious prayers were written. 

But though the eyes passed from object to object, they ever returned tothe two lidless gilded coffins in which the owners of this room of thedead lay as though peacefully sleeping. First above Yuaa and then abovehis wife the electric lamps were held, and as one looked down into theirquiet faces there was almost the feeling that they would presently opentheir eyes and blink at the light. The stern features of the old mancommanded one's attention, again and again our gaze was turned from thismass of wealth to this sleeping figure in whose honour it had beenplaced here. 

At last we returned to the surface to allow the thoughts opportunity tocollect themselves and the pulses time to quiet down, for, even to themost unemotional, a discovery of this kind, bringing one into the verypresence of the past, has really an unsteadying effect. Then once morewe descended, and made the preliminary arrangements for the cataloguingof the antiquities. It was now that the real work began, and, once theexcitement was past, there was a monotony of labour to be faced whichput a very considerable strain on the powers of all concerned. The hotdays when one sweated over the heavy packing-cases, and the bitterlycold nights when one lay at the mouth of the tomb under the stars, dragged on for many a week; and when at last the long train of boxes wascarried down to the Nile _en route_ for the Cairo Museum, it was with asigh of relief that the official returned to his regular work. 

This, of course, was a very exceptional discovery. Mr Davis has madeother great finds, but to me they have not equalled in dramatic interestthe discovery just recorded. Even in this royal valley, however, thereis much drudgery to be faced, and for a large part of the season's workit is the excavator's business to turn over endless masses of rockchippings, and to dig huge holes which have no interest for the patientdigger. Sometimes the mouth of a tomb is bared, and is entered with theprofoundest hopes, which are at once dashed by the sudden abrupt endingof the cutting a few yards from the surface. At other times atomb-chamber is reached and is found to be absolutely empty. 

At another part of Thebes the well-known Egyptologist, ProfessorSchiaparelli, had excavated for a number of years without findinganything of much importance, when suddenly one fine day he struck themouth of a large tomb which was evidently intact. I was at once informedof the discovery, and proceeded to the spot as quickly as possible. Themouth of the tomb was approached down a flight of steep, rough steps, still half-choked with _débris_. At the bottom of this the entrance of apassage running into the hillside was blocked by a wall of rough stones. After photographing and removing this, we found ourselves in a long, lowtunnel, blocked by a second wall a few yards ahead. Both these wallswere intact, and we realised that we were about to see what probably noliving man had ever seen before: the absolutely intact remains of a richTheban of the Imperial Age--_i. E. _, about 1200 or 1300 B. C. When thissecond wall was taken down we passed into a carefully-cut passage highenough to permit of one standing upright. 

At the end of this passage a plain wooden door barred our progress. Thewood retained the light colour of fresh deal, and looked for all theworld as though it had been set up but yesterday. A heavy wooden lock, such as is used at the present day, held the door fast. A neat bronzehandle on the side of the door was connected by a spring to a woodenknob set in the masonry door-post; and this spring was carefully sealedwith a small dab of stamped clay. The whole contrivance seemed so modernthat Professor Schiaparelli called to his servant for the key, who quiteseriously replied, "I don't know where it is, sir. " He then thumped thedoor with his hand to see whether it would be likely to give; and, asthe echoes reverberated through the tomb, one felt that the mummy, inthe darkness beyond, might well think that his resurrection call hadcome. One almost expected him to rise, like the dead knights of Kildarein the Irish legend, and to ask, "Is it time?" for the three thousandyears which his religion had told him was the duration of his life inthe tomb was already long past. 

Meanwhile we turned our attention to the objects which stood in thepassage, having been placed there at the time of the funeral, owing tothe lack of room in the burial-chamber. Here a vase, rising upon adelicately shaped stand, attracted the eye by its beauty of form; andhere a bedstead caused us to exclaim at its modern appearance. Apalm-leaf fan, used by the ancient Egyptians to keep the flies off theirwines and unguents, stood near a now empty jar; and near by a basket ofdried-up fruit was to be seen. This dried fruit gave the impression thatthe tomb was perhaps a few months old, but there was nothing else to beseen which suggested that the objects were even as much as a year old. It was almost impossible to believe, and quite impossible to realise, that we were standing where no man had stood for well over threethousand years; and that we were actually breathing the air which hadremained sealed in the passage since the ancient priests had closed theentrance thirteen hundred years before Christ. 

Before we could proceed farther, many flashlight photographs had to betaken, and drawings made of the doorway; and after this a panel of thewoodwork had to be removed with a fret-saw in order that the lock andseal might not be damaged. At last, however, this was accomplished, andthe way into the tomb-chamber was open. Stepping through the frame ofthe door, we found ourselves in an unencumbered portion of the floor, while around us in all directions stood the funeral furniture, and onour left the coffins of the deceased noble and his wife loomed large. Everything looked new and undecayed, and even the order in which theobjects were arranged suggested a tidying-up done that very morning. Thegravel on the floor was neatly smoothed, and not a speck of dust wasanywhere to be observed. Over the large outer coffin a pall of finelinen was laid, not rotting and falling to pieces like the cloth ofmediæval times we see in our museums, but soft and strong like thesheets of our beds. In the clear space before the coffin stood a woodenpedestal in the form of a miniature lotus column. On the top of this, resting on three wooden prongs, was a small copper dish, in which werethe ashes of incense, and the little stick used for stirring them. Oneasked oneself in bewilderment whether the ashes here, seemingly notcold, had truly ceased to glow at a time when Rome and Greece wereundreamt of, when Assyria did not exist, and when the Exodus of theChildren of Israel was yet unaccomplished. 

On low tables round cakes of bread were laid out, not cracked andshrivelled, but smooth and brown, with a kind of white-of-egg glaze uponthem. Onions and fruit were also spread out; and the fruit of the _dôm_palm was to be seen in plenty. In various parts of the chamber therewere numerous bronze vessels of different shapes, intended for theholding of milk and other drinkables. 

Well supplied with food and drink, the senses of the dead man weresoothed by a profusion of flowers, which lay withered but not decayedbeside the coffin, and which at the time of the funeral must have filledthe chamber with their sweetness. Near the doorway stood an uprightwooden chest closed with a lid. Opening this, we found it to contain thegreat ceremonial wig of the deceased man, which was suspended from arail passing across the top of the chest, and hung free of the sides andbottom. The black hair was plaited into hundreds of little tails, but insize the wig was not unlike those of the early eighteenth century inEurope. Chairs, beds, and other pieces of furniture were arranged aroundthe room, and at one side there were a number of small chests and boxespiled up against the wall. We opened one or two of these, and found themto contain delicate little vases of glass, stone, and metal, wrappedround with rags to prevent them breaking. These, like everything elsein the tomb, were new and fresh, and showed no trace of the passing ofthe years. 

The coffins, of course, were hidden by the great casing in which eachrested, and which itself was partly hidden by the linen pall. Nothingcould be touched for many days, until photographs had been taken andrecords made; and we therefore returned through the long passage to thelight of the day. 

There must have been a large number of intact tombs to be found whenfirst the modern interest in Egyptian antiquities developed; but themarket thus created had to be supplied, and gangs of illicit diggersmade short work of the most accessible tombs. This illegal excavation, of course, continues to some extent at the present day, in spite of allprecautions, but the results are becoming less and less proportionate tothe labour expended and risk taken. A native likes best to do a littlequiet digging in his own back yard and to admit nobody else into thebusiness. To illustrate this, I may mention a tragedy which was broughtto my notice a few years ago. A certain native discovered the entranceof a tomb in the floor of his stable, and at once proceeded to worm hisway down the tunnel. That was the end of the native. His wife, findingthat he had not returned two hours or so later, went down the newlyfound tunnel after him. That was the end of her also. In turn, threeother members of the family went down into the darkness; and that wasthe end of them. A native official was then called, and, lighting hisway with a candle, penetrated down the winding passage. The air was sofoul that he was soon obliged to retreat, but he stated that he was justable to see in the distance ahead the bodies of the unfortunatepeasants, all of whom had been overcome by what he quaintly described as"the evil lighting and bad climate. " Various attempts at the rescue ofthe bodies having failed, we gave orders that this tomb should beregarded as their sepulchre, and that its mouth should be sealed up. According to the natives, there was evidently a vast hoard of wealthstored at the bottom of this tomb, and the would-be robbers had mettheir death at the hands of the demon in charge of it, who had seizedeach man by the throat as he came down the tunnel and had strangled him. 

The Egyptian peasants have a very strong belief in the power of suchcreatures of the spirit world. A native who was attempting recently todiscover hidden treasure in a certain part of the desert, sacrificed alamb each night above the spot where he believed the treasure to lie, inorder to propitiate the _djin_ who guarded it. On the other hand, however, they have no superstition as regards the sanctity of theancient dead, and they do not hesitate on that ground to rifle thetombs. Thousands of graves have been desecrated by these seekers aftertreasure, and it is very largely the result of this that scientificexcavation is often so fruitless nowadays. When an excavator states thathe has discovered a tomb, one takes it for granted that he means a_plundered_ tomb, unless he definitely says that it was intact, in whichcase one calls him a lucky fellow and regards him with green envy. 

And thus we come back to my remarks at the beginning of this chapter, that there is a painful disillusionment awaiting the man who comes todig in Egypt in the hope of finding the golden cities of the Pharaohs orthe bejewelled bodies of their dead. Of the latter there are but a fewleft to be found. The discovery of one of them forms the subject of thenext chapter. 

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 THE TOMB OF TIY AND AKHNATON. [1]

 [Footnote 1: A few paragraphs in this chapter also appear in my 'Life and Times of Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt. ' (Wm. Blackwood & Sons, 1910. )]

In January 1907 the excavations in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kingsat Thebes, which are being conducted each year by Mr Davis, brought tolight the entrance of a tomb which, by its style, appeared to be that ofa royal personage of the XVIIIth Dynasty. The Valley lies behind thecliffs which form the western boundary of Thebes, and is approached by along winding road running between the rocks and rugged hills of theLybian desert. Here the Pharaohs of the XVIIIth to the XXth Dynastieswere buried in large sepulchres cut into the sides of the hills; and thepresent excavations have for their object the removal of the _débris_which has collected at the foot of these hills, in order that the tombshidden beneath may be revealed. About sixty tombs are now open, some ofwhich were already known to Greek and Roman travellers; and there areprobably not more than two or three still to be discovered. 

When this new tomb-entrance was uncovered I was at once notified, andproceeded with all despatch to the Valley. It was not long before wewere able to enter the tomb. A rough stairway led down into thehillside, bringing us to the mouth of a passage which was entirelyblocked by a wall of built stones. On removing this wall we foundourselves in a small passage, descending at a sharp incline to a chamberwhich could be seen a few yards farther on. Instead of this passagebeing free from _débris_, however, as we had expected on finding theentrance-wall intact, it was partly filled with fallen stones whichseemed to be the ruins of an earlier entrance-wall. On top of this heapof stones lay one of the sides of a large funeral shrine, almostentirely blocking the passage. This shrine, as we later saw, was in theform of a great box-like sarcophagus, made of cedar-wood covered withgold, and it had been intended as an outer covering for the coffin ofthe deceased person. It was, however, not put together: three sides ofit were leaning against the walls of the burial-chamber, and the fourthwas here in the passage. Either it was never built up, or else it was inprocess of being taken out of the tomb again when the work wasabandoned. 

[Illustration: PL. XVIII. The entrance of the tomb of Queen Tiy, with Egyptian policeman standing beside it. On the left is the later tomb of Rameses X. ]

 [_Photo by R. Paul. _

To pass this portion of the shrine which lay in the passage withoutdoing it damage was no easy matter. We could not venture to move it, asthe wood was rotten; and indeed, for over a year it remained in itsoriginal position. We therefore made a bridge of planks within a fewinches of the low roof, and on this we wriggled ourselves across intothe unencumbered passage beyond. In the funeral-chamber, besides theother portions of the shrine, we found at one corner a splendid coffin, in the usual form of a recumbent figure, inlaid in a dazzling mannerwith rare stones and coloured glass. The coffin had originally lain upona wooden bier, in the form of a lion-legged couch; but this hadcollapsed and the mummy had fallen to the ground, the lid of the coffinbeing partly thrown off by the fall, thus exposing the head and feet ofthe body, from which the bandages had decayed and fallen off. In thepowerful glare of the electric light which we carried, the bare skull, with a golden vulture upon it, could be seen protruding from the remainsof the linen bandages and from the sheets of flexible gold-foil inwhich, as we afterwards found, the whole body was wrapped. Theinscription on the coffin, the letters of which were made of rarestones, gave the titles of Akhnaton, "the beautiful child of the Sun";but turning to the shrine we found other inscriptions stating that KingAkhnaton had made it for his mother, Queen Tiy, and thus no immediatereply could be given to those at the mouth of the tomb who called to usto know which of the Pharaoh's of Egypt had been found. 

In a recess in the wall above the body there stood four alabaster"canopy" jars, each with a lid exquisitely sculptured in the form of ahuman head. In another corner there was a box containing many littletoilet vases and utensils of porcelain. A few alabaster vases and otherobjects were lying in various parts of the chamber, arranged in somesort of rough order. 

Nothing, of course, could yet be touched, and for several days, duringthe lengthy process of photographing and recording the contents of thetomb _in situ_, no further information could be obtained as to theidentity of the owner of the tomb. The shrine was certainly made forQueen Tiy, and so too were the toilet utensils, judging by aninscription upon one of them which gave the names of Tiy and herhusband, King Amenhotep III. , the parents of Akhnaton. It was, therefore, not a surprise when a passing doctor declared the much brokenbones to be those of a woman--that is to say, those of Queen Tiy. Forreasons which will presently become apparent, it had been difficult tobelieve that Akhnaton could have been buried in this Valley, and one wasvery ready to suppose that the coffin bearing his name had but beengiven by him to his mother. 

The important discovery was now announced, and considerable interest andexcitement. At the end of the winter the various archæologists departedto their several countries, and it fell to me to despatch theantiquities to the Cairo Museum, and to send the bones, soaked in wax toprevent their breakage, to Dr Elliot Smith, to be examined by thateminent authority. It may be imagined that my surprise was considerablewhen I received a letter from him reading--"Are you sure that the bonesyou sent me are those which were found in the tomb? Instead of the bonesof an old woman, you have sent me those of a young man. Surely there issome mistake. "

There was, however, no mistake. Dr Elliot Smith later informed me thatthe bones were those of a young man of about twenty-eight years of age, and at first this description did not seem to tally with that ofAkhnaton, who was always thought to have been a man of middle age. Butthere is now no possibility of doubt that the coffin and mummy werethose of this extraordinary Pharaoh, although the tomb and funeralfurniture belonged to Queen Tiy. Dr Elliot Smith's decision was, ofcourse, somewhat disconcerting to those who had written of the mortalremains of the great Queen; but it is difficult to speak of Tiy withoutalso referring to her famous son Akhnaton, and in these articles he hadreceived full mention. 

About the year B. C. 1500 the throne of Egypt fell to the young brotherof Queen Hatshepsut, Thutmosis III. , and under his vigorous rule thecountry rose to a height of power never again equalled. Amenhotep II. Succeeded to an empire which extended from the Sudan to the Euphratesand to the Greek Islands; and when he died he left these greatpossessions almost intact to his son, Thutmosis IV. , the grandfather ofAkhnaton. It is important to notice the chronology of this period. Themummy of Thutmosis IV. Has been shown by Dr Elliot Smith to be that of aman of not more than twenty-six years of age; but we know that his sonAmenhotep III. Was old enough to hunt lions at about the time of hisfather's death, and that he was already married to Queen Tiy a yearlater. Thus one must suppose that Thutmosis IV. Was a father at the ageof thirteen or fourteen, and that Amenhotep III. Was married to Tiy atabout the same age. The wife of Thutmosis IV. Was probably a Syrianprincess, and it must have been during her regency that Amenhotep III. Married Tiy, who was not of royal blood. Amenhotep and Tiy introducedinto Egypt the luxuries of Asia; and during their brilliant reign theNile Valley was more open to Syrian influence than it had ever beenbefore. The language of Babylon was perhaps the Court tongue, and thecorrespondence was written in cuneiform instead of in the hieraticscript of Egypt. Amenhotep III. , as has been said, was probably partlyAsiatic; and there is, perhaps, some reason to suppose that Yuaa, thefather of Queen Tiy, was also a Syrian. One has, therefore, to picturethe Egyptian Court at this time as being saturated with foreign ideas, which clashed with those of the orthodox Egyptians. 

Queen Tiy bore several children to the King; but it was not until theyhad reigned over twenty years that a son and heir was born, whom theynamed Amenhotep, that being changed later to Akhnaton. It is probablethat he first saw the light in the royal palace at Thebes, which wassituated on the edge of the desert at the foot of the western hills. Itwas an extensive and roomy structure, lightly built and gaily decorated. The ceiling and pavements of its halls were fantastically painted withscenes of animal life: wild cattle ran through reedy swamps beneathone's feet, and many-coloured fish swam in the water; while overheadflights of pigeons, white against a blue sky, passed across the hall, and the wild duck hastened towards the open casements. Through curtaineddoorways one might obtain glimpses of a garden planted with flowersforeign to Egypt; and on the east of the palace the King had made agreat pleasure-lake for the Queen, surrounded by the trees of Asia. Here, floating in her golden barge, which was named _Aton-gleams_, theQueen might look westwards over the tree-tops to the splendid Thebanhills towering above the palace, and eastwards to the green valley ofthe Nile and the three great limestone hills beyond. Amenhotep III. Hasbeen rightly called the "Magnificent, " and one may well believe that hisson Akhnaton was born to the sound of music and to the clink of goldenwine-cups. Fragments of countless thousands of wine-jars and bluefayence drinking-vessels have been found in the ruins of the palace;and contemporary objects and paintings show us some of the exquisitelywrought bowls of gold and silver which must have graced the royaltables, and the charming toilet utensils which were to be found in thesleeping apartments. 

While the luxurious Court rejoiced at the birth of this Egypto-Asiaticprince, one feels that the ancient priesthood of Amon-Ra must have stoodaloof, and must have looked askance at the baby who was destined one dayto be their master. This priesthood was perhaps the proudest and mostconservative community which conservative Egypt ever produced. Itdemanded implicit obedience to its stiff and ancient conventions, and itrefused to recognise the growing tendency towards religious speculation. One of the great gods of Syria was Aton, the god of the sun; and hisrecognition at the Theban Court was a source of constant irritation tothe ministers of Amon-Ra. 

Probably they would have taken stronger measures to resist this foreigngod had it not been for the fact that Atum of Heliopolis, an ancient godof Egypt, was on the one hand closely akin to Ra, the associated deitywith Amon, and on the other hand to Aton of Syria. Thus Aton might beregarded merely as another name for Ra or Amon-Ra; but the danger to theold _régime_ lay in the fact that with the worship of Aton there went acertain amount of freethought. The sun and its warm rays were theheritage of all mankind; and the speculative mind of the Asiatic, always in advance of the less imaginative Egyptian, had not failed tocollect to the Aton-worship a number of semi-philosophical teachings farbroader than the strict doctrines of Amon-Ra could tolerate. 

[Illustration: PL. XIX. Toilet-spoons of carved wood, discovered in tombs of the Eighteenth Dynasty. That on the right has a movable lid. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha. _

There is much reason to suppose that Queen Tiy was the prime factor inthe new movement. It may, perhaps, be worth noting that her father was apriest of the Egyptian god Min, who corresponded to the North SyrianAton in his capacity as a god of vegetation; and she may have imbibedsomething of the broader doctrines from him. It is the barge upon _her_pleasure-lake which is called _Aton-gleams_, and it is _her_ privateartist who is responsible for one of the first examples of the new styleof art which begins to appear at this period. Egyptian art was bounddown by conventions jealously guarded by the priesthood, and the slighttendency to break away from these, which now becomes apparent, isanother sign of the broadening of thought under the reign of AmenhotepIII. And Tiy. 

King Amenhotep III. Does not seem to have been a man of strongcharacter, and in the changes which took place at this time he does notappear to have taken so very large a part. He always showed the mostprofound respect for, and devotion to, his Queen; and one is inclined toregard him as a tool in her hands. According to some accounts he reignedonly thirty years, but there are contemporary monuments dated in histhirty-sixth year, and it seems probable that for the last few years hewas reigning only in name, and that in reality his ministers, under theregency of Queen Tiy, governed the land. Amenhotep III. Was perhapsduring his last years insane or stricken with some paralytic disease, for we read of an Asiatic monarch sending a miracle-working image toEgypt, apparently for the purpose of attempting to cure him. It musthave been during these six years of absolute power, while Akhnaton was aboy, that the Queen pushed forward her reforms and encouraged thebreaking down of the old traditions, especially those relating to theworship of Amon-Ra. 

Amenhotep III. Died in about the forty-ninth year of his age, after atotal reign of thirty-six years; and Akhnaton, who still bore the nameof Amenhotep, ascended the throne. One must picture him now as anenthusiastic boy, filled with the new thought of the age, and burning toassert the broad doctrines which he had learned from his mother and herfriends, in defiance of the priests of Amon-Ra. He was already marriedto a Syrian named Nefertiti, and certainly before he was fifteen yearsof age he was the father of two daughters. 

The new Pharaoh's first move, under the guidance of Tiy, was to proclaimAton the only true god, and to name himself high priest of that deity. He then began to build a temple dedicated to Aton at Karnak; but it musthave been distasteful to observe how overshadowed and dwarfed was thisnew temple by the mighty buildings in honour of the older gods whichstood there. Moreover, there must have been very serious opposition tothe new religion in Thebes, where Amon had ruled for so many centuriesunchallenged. In whatever direction he looked he was confronted withsome evidence of the worship of Amon-Ra: he might proclaim Aton to bethe only god, but Amon and a hundred other deities stared down at himfrom every temple wall. He and his advisers, therefore, decided toabandon Thebes altogether and to found a new capital elsewhere. 

Akhnaton selected a site for the new city on the west bank of the river, at a point now named El Amarna, about 160 miles above Cairo. Here thehills recede from the river, forming a bay about three miles deep andfive long; and in this bay the young Pharaoh decided to build hiscapital, which was named "Horizon of Aton. " With feverish speed the newbuildings were erected. A palace even more beautiful than that of hisparents at Thebes was prepared for him; a splendid temple dedicated toAton was set up amidst a garden of rare trees and brilliant flowers;villas for his nobles were erected, and streets were laid out. QueenTiy, who seems to have continued to live at Thebes, often came down toEl Amarna to visit her son; but it seems to have been at his own wishrather than at her advice that he now took the important step which setthe seal of his religion upon his life. 

Around the bay of El Amarna, on the cliffs which shut it off sosecurely, the King caused landmarks to be made at intervals, and onthese he inscribed an oath which some have interpreted to mean that hewould never again leave his new city. He would remain, like the Pope inthe Vatican, for the rest of his days within the limits of this bay;and, rather than be distracted by the cares of state and the worries ofempire, he would shut himself up with his god and would devote his lifeto his religion. He was but a youth still, and, to his inexperiencedmind, this oath seemed nothing; nor in his brief life does it seem thathe broke it, though at times he must have longed to visit his domains. 

The religion which this boy, who now called himself Akhnaton, "The Gloryof Aton, " taught was by no means the simple worship of the sun. It was, without question, the most enlightened religion which the world at thattime had ever known. The young priest-king called upon mankind toworship the unknown power which is behind the sun, that power of whichthe brilliant sun was the visible symbol, and which might be discernedin the fertilising warmth of the sun's rays. Aton was originally theactual sun's disk; but Akhnaton called his god "Heat which is in Aton, "and thus drew the eyes of his followers towards a Force far moreintangible and distant than the dazzling orb to which they bowed down. Akhnaton's god was the force which created the sun, the something whichpenetrated to this earth in the sun's heat and caused the vegetation togrow. 

Amon-Ra and the gods of Egypt were for the most part but deifiedmortals, endued with monstrous, though limited, power, and still havingaround them traditions of exaggerated human deeds. Others had theirorigin in natural phenomena--the wind, the Nile, the sky, and so on. Allwere terrific, revengeful, and able to be moved by human emotions. ButAkhnaton's god was the intangible and yet ever-present Father ofmankind, made manifest in sunshine. The youthful High Priest called uponhis followers to search for their god not in the confusion of battle orbehind the smoke of human sacrifices, but amidst the flowers and trees, amidst the wild duck and the fishes. He preached an enlightenednature-study; he was perhaps the first apostle of the Simple Life. Hestrove to break down conventional religion, and ceaselessly urged hispeople to worship in Truth, simply, without an excess of ceremonial. While the elder gods had been manifest in natural convulsions and in themore awful incidents of life, Akhnaton's kindly god could be seen in thechick which broke out of its egg, in the wind which filled the sails ofthe ships, in the fish which leapt from the water. Aton was the joywhich caused the young sheep "to dance upon their feet, " and the birdsto "flutter in their marshes. " He was the god of the simple pleasures oflife, and Truth was the watchword of his followers. 

It may be understood how the boy longed for truth in all things when oneremembers the thousand exaggerated conventions of Egyptian life at thistime. Court etiquette had developed to a degree which rendered life tothe Pharaoh an endless round of unnatural poses of mind and body. In thepreaching of his doctrine of truth and simplicity, Akhnaton did not failto call upon his subjects to regard their Pharaoh not as a god but as aman. It was usual for the Pharaoh to keep aloof from his people:Akhnaton was to be found in their midst. The Court demanded that theirlord should drive in solitary state through the city: Akhnaton sat inhis chariot with his wife and children, and allowed the artist torepresent him joking with his little daughter, who has mischievouslypoked the horses with a stick. In representing the Pharaoh, the artistwas expected to draw him in some conventional attitude of dignity:Akhnaton insisted upon being shown in all manner of naturalattitudes--now leaning languidly upon a staff, now nursing his children, now caressing his wife. 

As has been said, one of the first artists to break away from theancient conventions was in the service of Queen Tiy, and was probablyunder her influence. But in the radical change in the art which tookplace, Akhnaton is definitely stated to have been the leader, and thenew school acknowledge that they were taught by the King. The new art isextraordinary, and it must be owned that its merit lies rather in itsoriginality than in its beauty. An attempt is made to do away with theprescribed attitudes and the strict proportions, and to portray any oneindividual with his natural defects. Some of the sculptured heads, however, which have come down to us, and notably the four "canopic"heads found in this tomb, are of wonderful beauty, and have no trace oftraditional mannerisms, though they are highly idealised. The King'sdesire for light-heartedness led him to encourage the use of brightcolours and gay decorations in the palace. Some of the ceiling andpavement paintings are of great beauty, while the walls and pillarsinlaid with coloured stones must have given a brilliancy to the hallsunequalled in Egypt at any previous time. 

The group of nobles who formed the King's Court had all sacrificed muchin coming to the new capital. Their estates around Thebes had been left, their houses abandoned, and the tombs which were in process of beingmade for them in the Theban hills had been rendered useless. The King, therefore, showered favours upon them, and at his expense built theirhouses and constructed sepulchres for them. It is on the walls of thesetombs that one obtains the main portion of one's information regardingthe teachings of this wonderful youth, who was now growing intomanhood. Here are inscribed those beautiful hymns to Aton which rank sohigh in ancient literature. It is unfortunate that space does not allowmore than a few extracts from the hymns to be quoted here; but somethingof their beauty may be realised from these. (Professor Breasted'stranslation. )

 "Thy dawning is beautiful in the horizon of heaven, O living Aton, Beginning of life! When thou risest in the eastern horizon of heaven Thou fillest every land with thy beauty. "

 "Though thou art afar, thy rays are on earth; Though thou art on high, thy footprints are the day. "

 "When thou settest in the western horizon of heaven The world is in darkness like the dead. Men sleep in their chambers, their heads are wrapt up. Every lion cometh forth from his den. The serpents, they sting. Darkness reigns, the world is in silence: He that made them has gone to rest in his horizon. "

 "Bright is the earth when thou risest in the horizon ... When thou sendest forth thy rays The two lands of Egypt are in daily festivity, Awake and standing upon their feet, For thou hast raised them up. Their limbs bathed, they take their clothing, Their arms uplifted in adoration to thy dawning. Then in all the world they do their work. "

 "All cattle rest upon their herbage, all trees and plants flourish. The birds flutter in their marshes, their wings uplifted in adoration to thee. All the sheep dance upon their feet, All winged things fly; they live when thou hast shone upon them. "

 "The barques sail up-stream and down-stream alike, ... The fish in the river leap up before thee, And thy rays are in the midst of the great sea. "

 "Thou art he who createst the man-child in woman ... Who giveth life to the son in the body of his mother; Who soothest him that he may not weep, A nurse even in the womb. "

 "When the chick crieth in the egg-shell, Thou givest him breath therein to preserve him alive ... He cometh forth from the egg, to chirp with all his might. He runneth about upon his two feet. "

 "How manifold are all thy works! They are hidden from before us. "

There are several verses of this hymn which are almost identical withPsalm civ. , and those who study it closely will be forced to one of twoconclusions: either that Psalm civ. Is derived from this hymn of theyoung Pharaoh, or that both are derived from some early Syrian hymn tothe sun. Akhnaton may have only adapted this early psalm to localconditions; though, on the other hand, a man capable of bringing to passso great a religious revolution in Egypt may well be credited with theauthorship of this splendid song. There is no evidence to show that itwas written before the King had reached manhood. 

Queen Tiy probably did not now take any further part in a movement whichhad got so far out of her hands. She was now nearly sixty years old, andthis, to one who had been a mother so early in life, was a considerableage. It seems that she sometimes paid visits to her son at El Amarna, but her interest lay in Thebes, where she had once held so brilliant aCourt. When at last she died, therefore, it is not surprising to findthat she was buried in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. The tombwhich has been described above is most probably her original sepulchre, and here her body was placed in the golden shrine made for her byAkhnaton, surrounded by the usual funeral furniture. She thus lay nomore than a stone's throw from her parents, whose tomb was discoveredtwo years ago, and which was of very similar size and shape. 

After her death, although preaching this gentle creed of love and simpletruth, Akhnaton waged a bitter and stern war against the priesthoods ofthe old gods. It may be that the priesthoods of Amon had again attemptedto overthrow the new doctrines, or had in some manner called down theparticular wrath of the Pharaoh. He issued an order that the name ofAmon was to be erased and obliterated wherever it was found, and hisagents proceeded to hack it out on all the temple walls. The names alsoof other gods were erased; and it is noticeable in this tomb that theword _mut_, meaning "mother, " was carefully spelt in hieroglyphs whichwould have no similarity to those used in the word _Mut_, thegoddess-consort of Amon. The name of Amenhotep III. , his own father, didnot escape the King's wrath, and the first syllables were everywhereerased. 

As the years went by Akhnaton seems to have given himself more and morecompletely to his new religion. He had now so trained one of his nobles, named Merira, in the teachings of Aton that he was able to hand over tohim the high priesthood of that god, and to turn his attention to themany other duties which he had imposed upon himself. In rewardingMerira, the King is related to have said, "Hang gold at his neck beforeand behind, and gold on his legs, because of his hearing the teaching ofPharaoh concerning every saying in these beautiful places. " Anotherofficial whom Akhnaton greatly advanced says: "My lord advanced mebecause I have carried out his teaching, and I hear his word withoutceasing. " The King's doctrines were thus beginning to take hold; but onefeels, nevertheless, that the nobles followed their King rather for thesake of their material gains than for the spiritual comforts of theAton-worship. There is reason to suppose that at least one of thesenobles was degraded and banished from the city. 

But while Akhnaton was preaching peace and goodwill amidst the flowersof the temple of Aton, his generals in Asia Minor were vainly strugglingto hold together the great empire created by Thutmosis III. Akhnaton hadcaused a temple of Aton to be erected at one point in Syria at least, but in other respects he took little or no interest in the welfare ofhis foreign dominions. War was not tolerated in his doctrine: it was asin to take away life which the good Father had given. One pictures thehardened soldiers of the empire striving desperately to hold the nationsof Asia faithful to the Pharaoh whom they never saw. The small garrisonswere scattered far and wide over Syria, and constantly they sentmessengers to the Pharaoh asking at least for some sign that he heldthem in mind. 

There is no more pathetic page of ancient history than that which tellsof the fall of the Egyptian Empire. The Amorites, advancing along thesea-coast, took city after city from the Egyptians almost without astruggle. The chiefs of Tunip wrote an appeal for help to the King: "Tothe King of Egypt, my lord, --The inhabitants of Tunip, thy servant. " Theplight of the city is described and reinforcements are asked for, "Andnow, " it continues, "Tunip thy city weeps, and her tears are flowing, and there is no help for us. For twenty years we have been sending toour lord the King, the King of Egypt, but there has not come a word tous, no, not one. " The messengers of the beleaguered city must have foundthe King absorbed in his religion, and must have seen only priests ofthe sun where they had hoped to find the soldiers of former days. TheEgyptian governor of Jerusalem, attacked by Aramæans, writes to thePharaoh, saying: "Let the King take care of his land, and ... Let sendtroops.... For if no troops come in this year, the whole territory of mylord the King will perish. " To this letter is added a note to theKing's secretary, which reads, "Bring these words plainly before mylord the King: the whole land of my lord the King is going to ruin. "

So city after city fell, and the empire, won at such cost, was graduallylost to the Egyptians. It is probable that Akhnaton had not realised howserious was the situation in Asia Minor. A few of the chieftains whowere not actually in arms against him had written to him every now andthen assuring him that all was well in his dominions; and, strange torelate, the tribute of many of the cities had been regularly paid. TheAsiatic princes, in fact, had completely fooled the Pharaoh, and had ledhim to believe that the nations were loyal while they themselvesprepared for rebellion. Akhnaton, hating violence, had been only tooready to believe that the despatches from Tunip and elsewhere wereunjustifiably pessimistic. He had hoped to bind together the manycountries under his rule, by giving them a single religion. He had hopedthat when Aton should be worshipped in all parts of his empire, and whenhis simple doctrines of love, truth, and peace should be preached fromevery temple throughout the length and breadth of his dominions, thenwar would cease and a unity of faith would hold the lands in harmony onewith the other. 

When, therefore, the tribute suddenly ceased, and the few refugees camestaggering home to tell of the perfidy of the Asiatic princes and thefall of the empire, Akhnaton seems to have received his deathblow. Hewas now not more than twenty-eight years of age; and though hisportraits show that his face was already lined with care, and that hisbody was thinner than it should have been, he seems to have had plentyof reserve strength. He was the father of several daughters, but hisqueen had borne him no son to succeed him; and thus he must have feltthat his religion could not outlive him. With his empire lost, withThebes his enemy, and with his treasury wellnigh empty, one feels thatAkhnaton must have sunk to the very depths of despondency. His religiousrevolution had ruined Egypt, and had failed: did he, one wonders, findconsolation in the sunshine and amidst the flowers?

His death followed speedily; and, resting in the splendid coffin inwhich we found him, he was laid in the tomb prepared for him in thehills behind his new capital. The throne fell to the husband of one ofhis daughters, Smenkhkara, who, after an ephemeral reign, gave place toanother of the sons-in-law of Akhnaton, Tutankhaton. This king wasspeedily persuaded to change his name to Tutankhamon, to abandon theworship of Aton, and to return to Thebes. Akhnaton's city fell intoruins, and soon the temples and palaces became the haunt of jackals andthe home of owls. The nobles returned with their new king to Thebes, andnot one remained faithful to those "teachings" to which they had oncepretended to be such earnest listeners. 

[Illustration: PL. XX. The coffin of Akhnaton lying in the tomb of Queen Tiy. ]

 [_Photo by R. Paul. _

The fact that the body in the new tomb was that of Akhnaton, and not ofQueen Tiy, gives a new reading to the history of the burial. WhenTutankhamon returned to Thebes, Akhnaton's memory was still, it appears, regarded with reverence, and it seems that there was no question ofleaving his body in the neighbourhood of his deserted palace, where, until the discovery of this tomb, Egyptologists had expected to find it. It was carried to Thebes, together with some of the funeral furniture, and was placed in the tomb of Queen Tiy, which had been reopened for thepurpose. But after some years had passed and the priesthood of Amon-Rahad again asserted itself, Akhnaton began to be regarded as a hereticand as the cause of the loss of Egypt's Asiatic dominions. Thesesentiments were vigorously encouraged by the priesthood, and soonAkhnaton came to be spoken of as "that criminal, " and his name wasobliterated from his monuments. It was now felt that his body could nolonger lie in state together with that of Queen Tiy in the Valley of theTombs of the Kings. The sepulchre was therefore opened once more, andthe name Akhnaton was everywhere erased from the inscriptions. The tomb, polluted by the presence of the heretic, was no longer fit for Tiy, andthe body of the Queen was therefore carried elsewhere, perhaps to thetomb of her husband Amenhotep III. The shrine in which her mummy hadlain was pulled to pieces and an attempt was made to carry it out of thetomb; but this arduous task was presently abandoned, and one portion ofthe shrine was left in the passage, where we found it. The body ofAkhnaton, his name erased, was now the sole occupant of the tomb. Theentrance was blocked with stones, and sealed with the seal ofTutankhamon, a fragment of which was found; and it was in this conditionthat it was discovered in 1907. 

The bones of this extraordinary Pharaoh are in the Cairo Museum; but, indeference to the sentiments of many worthy persons, they are notexhibited. The visitor to that museum, however, may now see the"canopic" jars, the alabaster vases, the gold vulture, the goldnecklace, the sheets of gold in which the body was wrapped, the toiletutensils, and parts of the shrine, all of which we found in theburial-chamber. 

 CHAPTER IX. 

 THE TOMB OF HOREMHEB. 

In the last chapter a discovery was recorded which, as experience hasshown, is of considerable interest to the general reader. The romanceand the tragedy of the life of Akhnaton form a really valuable additionto the store of good things which is our possession, and which thearchæologist so diligently labours to increase. Curiously enough, another discovery, that of the tomb of Horemheb, was made by the sameexplorer (Mr Davis) in 1908; and as it forms the natural sequel to theprevious chapter, I may be permitted to record it here. 

Akhnaton was succeeded by Smenkhkara, his son-in-law, who, after a briefreign, gave place to Tutankhamon, during whose short life the courtreturned to Thebes. A certain noble named Ay came next to the throne, but held it for only three years. The country was now in a chaoticcondition, and was utterly upset and disorganised by the revolution ofAkhnaton, and by the vacillating policy of the three weak kings whosucceeded him, each reigning for so short a time. One cannot say towhat depths of degradation Egypt might have sunk had it not been for thetimely appearance of Horemheb, a wise and good ruler, who, though but asoldier of not particularly exalted birth, managed to raise himself tothe vacant throne, and succeeded in so organising the country once morethat his successors, Rameses I. , Sety I. , and Rameses II. , were able toregain most of the lost dominions, and to place Egypt at the head of thenations of the world. 

Horemheb, "The Hawk in Festival, " was born at Alabastronpolis, a city ofthe 18th Province of Upper Egypt, during the reign of Amenhotep III. , who has rightly been named "The Magnificent, " and in whose reign Egyptwas at once the most powerful, the most wealthy, and the most luxuriouscountry in the world. There is reason to suppose that Horemheb's familywere of noble birth, and it is thought by some that an inscription whichcalls King Thutmosis III. "the father of his fathers" is to be takenliterally to mean that that old warrior was his great-orgreat-great-grandfather. The young noble was probably educated at thesplendid court of Amenhotep III. , where the wit and intellect of theworld was congregated, and where, under the presidency of the beautifulQueen Tiy, life slipped by in a round of revels. 

As an impressionable young man, Horemheb must have watched the gradualdevelopment of freethought in the palace, and the ever-increasingirritation and chafing against the bonds of religious convention whichbound all Thebans to the worship of the god Amon. Judging by his futureactions, Horemheb did not himself feel any real repulsion to Amon, though the religious rut into which the country had fallen wassufficiently objectionable to a man of his intellect to cause him tocast in his lot with the movement towards emancipation. In later life hewould certainly have been against the movement, for his mature judgmentled him always to be on the side of ordered habit and custom as beingless dangerous to the national welfare than a social upheaval or change. 

Horemheb seems now to have held the appointment of captain or commanderin the army, and at the same time, as a "Royal Scribe, " he cultivatedthe art of letters, and perhaps made himself acquainted with those legalmatters which in later years he was destined to reform. 

When Amenhotep III. Died, the new king, Akhnaton, carried out therevolution which had been pending for many years, and absolutely bannedthe worship of Amon, with all that it involved. He built himself a newcapital at El Amârna, and there he instituted the worship of the sun, orrather of the heat or power of the sun, under the name of Aton. In sofar as the revolution constituted a breaking away from tiresomeconvention, the young Horemheb seems to have been with the King. No oneof intelligence could deny that the new religion and new philosophywhich was preached at El Amârna was more worthy of consideration ongeneral lines than was the narrow doctrine of the Amon priesthood; andall thinkers must have rejoiced at the freedom from bonds which hadbecome intolerable. But the world was not ready, and indeed is still notready, for the schemes which Akhnaton propounded; and the unpracticalmodel-kingdom which was uncertainly developing under the hills of ElAmârna must have already been seen to contain the elements of gravedanger to the State. 

Nevertheless the revolution offered many attractions. The frivolousmembers of the court, always ready for change and excitement, welcomedwith enthusiasm the doctrine of the moral and simple life which the Kingand his advisers preached, just as in the decadent days before theFrench Revolution the court, bored with licentiousness, gaily welcomedthe morality-painting of the young Greuze. And to the moreserious-minded, such as Horemheb seems to have been, the movement musthave appealed in its imperial aspect. The new god Aton was largelyworshipped in Syria, and it seems evident that Akhnaton had hoped tobind together the heterogeneous nations of the empire by a bond ofcommon worship. The Asiatics were not disposed to worship Amon, but Atonappealed to them as much as any god, and Horemheb must have seen greatpossibilities in a common religion. 

It is thought that Horemheb may be identified amongst the nobles whofollowed Akhnaton to El Amârna, and though this is not certain, there islittle doubt that he was in high favour with the King at the time. Toone whose tendency is neither towards frivolity nor towards fanaticism, there can be nothing more broadening than the influence of religiouschanges. More than one point of view is appreciated: a man learns thatthere are other ruts than that in which he runs, and so he seeks thesmooth midway. Thus Horemheb, while acting loyally towards his King, andwhile appreciating the value of the new movement, did not exclude fromhis thoughts those teachings which he deemed good in the old order ofthings. He seems to have seen life broadly; and when the new religion ofAkhnaton became narrowed and fanatical, as it did towards the close ofthe tragic chapter of that king's short life, Horemheb was one of thefew men who kept an open mind. 

Like many other nobles of the period, he had constructed for himself atomb at Sakkâra, in the shadow of the pyramids of the old kings ofEgypt; and fragments of this tomb, which of course was abandoned when hebecame Pharaoh, are now to be seen in various museums. In one of thescenes there sculptured Horemheb is shown in the presence of a king whois almost certainly Akhnaton; and yet in a speech to him inscribedabove the reliefs, Horemheb makes reference to the god Amon whose veryname was anathema to the King. The royal figure is drawn according tothe canons of art prescribed by Akhnaton, and upon which, as a protestagainst the conventional art of the old order, he laid the greateststress in his revolution; and thus, at all events, Horemheb was insympathy with this aspect of the movement. But the inscriptions whichrefer to Amon, and yet are impregnated with the Aton style ofexpression, show that Horemheb was not to be held down to any one modeof thought. Akhnaton was, perhaps, already dead when these inscriptionswere added, and thus Horemheb may have had no further reason to hide hisviews; or it may be that they constituted a protest against thatnarrowness which marred the last years of a pious king. 

Those who read the history of the period in the last chapter willremember how Akhnaton came to persecute the worshippers of Amon, and howhe erased that god's name wherever it was written throughout the lengthand breadth of Egypt. Evidently with this action Horemheb did not agree;nor was this his only cause for complaint. As an officer, and now ahighly placed general of the army, he must have seen with feelings ofthe utmost bitterness the neglected condition of the Syrian provinces. Revolt after revolt occurred in these states; but Akhnaton, dreaming andpraying in the sunshine of El Amârna, would send no expedition topunish the rebels. Good-fellowship with all men was the King'swatchword, and a policy more or less democratic did not permit him tomake war on his fellow-creatures. Horemheb could smell battle in thedistance, but could not taste of it. The battalions which he had trainedwere kept useless in Egypt; and even when, during the last years ofAkhnaton's reign, or under his successor Smenkhkara, he was madecommander-in-chief of all the forces, there was no means of using hispower to check the loss of the cities of Asia. Horemheb must havewatched these cities fall one by one into the hands of those whopreached the doctrine of the sword, and there can be little wonder thathe turned in disgust from the doings at El Amârna. 

During the times which followed, when Smenkhkara held the throne for ayear or so, and afterwards, when Tutankhamon became Pharaoh, Horemhebseems to have been the leader of the reactionary movement. He did notconcern himself so much with the religious aspect of the questions:there was as much to be said on behalf of Aton as there was on behalf ofAmon. But it was he who knocked at the doors of the heart of Egypt, andurged the nation to awake to the danger in the East. An expeditionagainst the rebels was organised, and one reads that Horemheb was the"companion of his Lord upon the battlefield on that day of the slayingof the Asiatics. " Akhnaton had been opposed to warfare, and had dreamedthat dream of universal peace which still is a far-off light to mankind. Horemheb was a practical man in whom such a dream would have been butweakness; and, though one knows nothing more of these early campaigns, the fact that he attempted to chastise the enemies of the empire at thisjuncture stands to his credit for all time. 

Under Tutankhamon the court returned to Thebes, though not yetexclusively to the worship of Amon; and the political phase of therevolution came to an end. The country once more settled into the oldorder of life, and Horemheb, having experienced the full dangers ofphilosophic speculation, was glad enough to abandon thought for action. He was now the most powerful man in the kingdom, and inscriptions callhim "the greatest of the great, the mightiest of the mighty, presiderover the Two Lands of Egypt, general of generals, " and so on. The King"appointed him to be Chief of the Land, to administer the laws of theland as Hereditary Prince of all this land"; and "all that was done wasdone by his command. " From chaos Horemheb was producing order, and allmen turned to him in gratitude as he reorganised the various governmentdepartments. 

The offices which he held, such as Privy Councillor, King's Secretary, Great Lord of the People, and so on, are very numerous; and in all ofthese he dealt justly though sternly, so that "when he came the fear ofhim was great in the sight of the people, prosperity and health werecraved for him, and he was greeted as 'Father of the Two Lands ofEgypt. '" He was indeed the saviour and father of his country, for he hadfound her corrupt and disordered, and he was leading her back togreatness and dignity. 

[Illustration: PL. XXI. Head of a granite statue of the god Khonsu, probably dating from about the period of Horemheb. --CAIRO MUSEUM. ]

 [_Photo by Beato. _

At this time he was probably a man of about forty years of age. Inappearance he seems to have been noble and good to look upon. "When hewas born, " says the inscription, "he was clothed with strength: the hueof a god was upon him"; and in later life, "the form of a god was in hiscolour, " whatever that may mean. He was a man of considerable eloquenceand great learning. "He astonished the people by that which came out ofhis mouth, " we are told; and "when he was summoned before the King thepalace began to fear. " One may picture the weak Pharaoh and his corruptcourt, as they watched with apprehension the movements of this sternsoldier, of whom it was said that his every thought was "in thefootsteps of the Ibis, "--the ibis being the god of wisdom. 

On the death of Tutankhamon, the question of inviting Horemheb to fillthe vacant throne must have been seriously considered; but there wasanother candidate, a certain Ay, who had been one of the most importantnobles in the group of Akhnaton's favourites at El Amârna, and who hadbeen the loudest in the praises of Aton. Religious feeling was at thetime running high, for the partizans of Amon and those of Aton seem tohave been waging war on one another; and Ay appears to have beenregarded as the man most likely to bridge the gulf between the twoparties. A favourite of Akhnaton, and once a devout worshipper of Aton, he was not averse to the cults of other gods; and by conciliating bothfactions he managed to obtain the throne for himself. His power, however, did not last for long; and as the priests of Amon regained theconfidence of the nation at the expense of those of Aton, so the powerof Ay declined. His past connections with Akhnaton told against him, andafter a year or so he disappeared, leaving the throne vacant once more. 

There was now no question as to who should succeed. A princess namedMutnezem, the sister of Akhnaton's queen, and probably an old friend ofHoremheb, was the sole heiress to the throne, the last surviving memberof the greatest Egyptian dynasty. All men turned to Horemheb in the hopethat he would marry this lady, and thus reign as Pharaoh over them, perhaps leaving a son by her to succeed him when he was gathered to hisfathers. He was now some forty-five years of age, full of energy andvigour, and passionately anxious to have a free hand in the carrying outof his schemes for the reorganisation of the government. It wastherefore with joy that, in about the year 1350 B. C. , he sailed up toThebes in order to claim the crown. 

He arrived at Luxor at a time when the annual festival of Amon was beingcelebrated, and all the city was _en fête_. The statue of the god hadbeen taken from its shrine at Karnak, and had been towed up the river toLuxor in a gorgeous barge, attended by a fleet of gaily-decoratedvessels. With songs and dancing it had been conveyed into the Luxortemple, where the priests had received it standing amidst piled-upmasses of flowers, fruit, and other offerings. It seems to have been atthis moment that Horemheb appeared, while the clouds of incense streamedup to heaven, and the morning air was full of the sound of the harps andthe lutes. Surrounded by a crowd of his admirers, he was conveyed intothe presence of the divine figure, and was there and then hailed asPharaoh. 

From the temple he was carried amidst cheering throngs to the palacewhich stood near by; and there he was greeted by the Princess Mutnezem, who fell on her knees before him and embraced him. That very day, itwould seem, he was married to her, and in the evening the royal heraldspublished the style and titles by which he would be known in the future:"Mighty Bull, Ready in Plans; Favourite of the Two Goddesses, Great inMarvels; Golden Hawk, Satisfied with Truth; Creator of the Two Lands, "and so forth. Then, crowned with the royal helmet, he was led once morebefore the statue of Amon, while the priests pronounced the blessing ofthe gods upon him. Passing down to the quay before the temple the figureof the god was placed once more upon the state-barge, and was floateddown to Karnak; while Horemheb was led through the rejoicing crowds backto the palace to begin his reign as Pharaoh. 

In religious matters Horemheb at once adopted a strong attitude offriendship towards the Amon party which represented the old order ofthings. There is evidence to show that Aton was in no way persecuted;yet one by one his shrines were abandoned, and the neglected temples ofAmon and the elder gods once more rang with the hymns of praise. Inscriptions tell us that the King "restored the temples from themarshes of the Delta to Nubia. He fashioned a hundred images with alltheir bodies correct, and with all splendid costly stones. Heestablished for them daily offerings every day. All the vessels of theirtemples were wrought of silver and gold. He equipped them with priestsand with ritual-priests, and with the choicest of the army. Hetransferred to them lands and cattle, supplied with all equipment. " Bythese gifts to the neglected gods, Horemheb was striving to bring Egyptback to its normal condition, and in no way was he prejudiced by anyparticular devotion to Amon. 

A certain Patonemheb, who had been one of Akhnaton's favourites in thedays of the revolution, was appointed High Priest of Ra--the olderEgyptian form of Aton who was at this time identified with that god--atthe temple of Heliopolis; and this can only be regarded as an act offriendship to the Aton-worshippers. The echoing and deserted temples ofAton in Thebes, and El Amârna, however, were now pulled down, and theblocks were used for the enlarging of the temple of Amon, --a fact whichindicates that their original dedication to Aton had not caused them tobe accursed. 

The process of restoration was so gradual that it could not have muchdisturbed the country. Horemheb's hand was firm but soothing in thesematters, and the revolution seems to have been killed as much bykindness as by force. It was probably not till quite the end of hisreign that he showed any tendency to revile the memory of Akhnaton; andthe high feeling which at length brought the revolutionary king the nameof "that criminal of El Amârna" did not rise till half a century later. The difficulties experienced by Horemheb in steering his course betweenAmon and Aton, in quietly restoring the old equilibrium without in anyway persecuting those who by religious convictions wereAton-worshippers, must have been immense; and one cannot but feel thatthe King must have been a diplomatist of the highest standing. Hisunaffected simplicity won all hearts to him; his toleration andbroadness of mind brought all thoughtful men to his train; and hisstrong will led them and guided them from chaos to order, from fantasticUtopia to the solid old Egypt of the past. Horemheb was the preacher ofSanity, the apostle of the Normal, and Order was his watchword. 

The inscriptions tell us that it was his custom to give publicaudiences to his subjects, and there was not a man amongst those personswhom he interviewed whose name he did not know, nor one who did notleave his presence rejoicing. Up and down the Nile he sailed a hundredtimes, until he was able truly to say, "I have improved this entireland; I have learned its whole interior; I have travelled it entirely inits midst. " We are told that "his Majesty took counsel with his hearthow he might expel evil and suppress lying. The plans of his Majestywere an excellent refuge, repelling violence and delivering theEgyptians from the oppressions which were around them. Behold, hisMajesty spent the whole time seeking the welfare of Egypt, and searchingout instances of oppression in the land. "

It is interesting, by the way, to note that in his eighth year the Kingrestored the tomb of Thutmosis IV. , which had been robbed during therevolution; and the inscription which the inspectors left behind themwas found on the wall when Mr Theodore Davis discovered the tomb a fewyears ago. The plundering of the royal tombs is a typical instance ofthe lawlessness of the times. The corruption, too, which followed on thedisorder was appalling; and wherever the King went he was confronted bydeceit, embezzlement, bribery, extortion, and official tyranny. EveryGovernment officer was attempting to obtain money from his subordinatesby illegal means; and _bakshish_--that bogie of the Nile Valley--castits shadow upon all men. 

Horemheb stood this as long as he could; but at last, regarding justiceas more necessary than tact, we are told that "his Majesty seized awriting-palette and scroll, and put into writing all that his Majestythe King had said to himself. " It is not possible to record here morethan a few of the good laws which he then made, but the followingexamples will serve to show how near to his heart were the interests ofhis people. 

It was the custom for the tax-collectors to place that portion of afarmer's harvest, which they had taken, upon the farmer's own boat, inorder to convey it to the public granary. These boats often failed to bereturned to their owners when finished with, and were ultimately sold bythe officials for their own profit. Horemheb, therefore, made thefollowing law:--

 "If the poor man has made for himself a boat with its sail, and, in order to serve the State, has loaded it with the Government dues, and has been robbed of the boat, the poor man stands bereft of his property and stripped of his many labours. This is wrong, and the Pharaoh will suppress it by his excellent measures. If there be a poor man who pays the taxes to the two deputies, and he be robbed of his property and his boat, my majesty commands: that every officer who collects the taxes and takes the boat of any citizen, this law shall be executed against him, and his nose shall be cut off, and he shall be sent in exile to Tharu. Furthermore, concerning the tax of timber, my majesty commands that if any officer find a poor man without a boat, then he shall bring him a craft belonging to another man in which to carry the timber; and in return for this let the former man do the loading of the timber for the latter. "

The tax-collectors were wont to commandeer the services of all theslaves in the town, and to detain them for six or seven days, "so thatit was an excessive detention indeed. " Often, too, they used toappropriate a portion of the tax for themselves. The new law, therefore, was as follows:--

 "If there be any place where the officials are tax-collecting, and any one shall hear the report saying that they are tax-collecting to take the produce for themselves, and another shall come to report saying, 'My man slave or my female slave has been taken away and detained many days at work by the officials, ' the offender's nose shall be cut off, and he shall be sent to Tharu. "

One more law may here be quoted. The police used often to steal thehides which the peasants had collected to hand over to the Government astheir tax. Horemheb, having satisfied himself that a tale of this kindwas not merely an excuse for not paying the tax, made this law:--

 "As for any policeman concerning whom one shall hear it said that he goes about stealing hides, beginning with this day the law shall be executed against him, by beating him a hundred blows, opening five wounds, and taking from him by force the hides which he took. "

To carry out these laws he appointed two chief judges of very highstanding, who are said to have been "perfect in speech, excellent ingood qualities, knowing how to judge the heart. " Of these men the Kingwrites: "I have directed them to the way of life, I have led them to thetruth, I have taught them, saying, 'Do not receive the reward ofanother. How, then, shall those like you judge others, while there isone among you committing a crime against justice?'" Under these twoofficials Horemheb appointed many judges, who went on circuit around thecountry; and the King took the wise step of arranging, on the one hand, that their pay should be so good that they would not be tempted to takebribes, and, on the other hand, that the penalty for this crime shouldbe most severe. 

So many were the King's reforms that one is inclined to forget that hewas primarily a soldier. He appears to have made some successfulexpeditions against the Syrians, but the fighting was probably near hisown frontiers, for the empire lost by Akhnaton was not recovered formany years, and Horemheb seems to have felt that Egypt needed to learnto rule herself before she attempted to rule other nations. Anexpedition against some tribes in the Sudan was successfully carriedthrough, and it is said that "his name was mighty in the land of Kush, his battle-cry was in their dwelling-places. " Except for a semi-militaryexpedition which was dispatched to the land of Punt, these are the onlyrecorded foreign activities of the King; but that he had spent muchtime in the organisation and improvement of the army is shown by thefact that three years after his death the Egyptian soldiers wereswarming over the Lebanon and hammering at the doors of the cities ofJezreel. 

Had he lived for another few years he might have been famous as aconqueror as well as an administrator, though old age might retard andtired bones refuse their office. As it is, however, his name is writtensufficiently large in the book of the world's great men; and when hedied, about B. C. 1315, after a reign of some thirty-five years, he haddone more for Egypt than had almost any other Pharaoh. He found thecountry in the wildest disorder, and he left it the master of itself, and ready to become once more the master of the empire which Akhnaton'sdoctrine of Peace and Goodwill had lost. Under his direction the purgedworship of the old gods, which for him meant but the maintenance of sometime-proved customs, had gained the mastery over the chimerical worshipof Aton; without force or violence he had substituted the practical forthe visionary; and to Amon and Order his grateful subjects were able tocry, "The sun of him who knew thee not has set, but he who knows theeshines; the sanctuary of him who assailed thee is overwhelmed indarkness, but the whole earth is now in light. "

The tomb of this great Pharaoh was cut in the rocks on the west side ofthe Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, not far from the resting-place ofAmenhotep II. In the days of the later Ramesside kings thetomb-plunderers entered the sepulchre, pulled the embalmed body of theking to pieces in the search for hidden jewels, scattered the bones ofthe three members of his family who were buried with him, and stolealmost everything of value which they found. There must have been otherrobberies after this, and finally the Government inspectors of aboutB. C. 1100 entered the tomb, and, seeing its condition, closed its mouthwith a compact mass of stones. The torrents of rain which sometimes fallin winter in Egypt percolated through this filling, and left itcongealed and difficult to cut through; and on the top of this hard masstons of rubbish were tossed from other excavations, thus completelyhiding the entrance. 

In this condition the tomb was found by Mr Davis in February 1908. MrDavis had been working on the side of the valley opposite to the tomb ofRameses III. , where the accumulations of _débris_ had entirely hiddenthe face of the rocks, and, as this was a central and likely spot for a"find, " it was hoped that when the skin of rubbish had been cleared awaythe entrance of at least one royal tomb would be exposed. Of all theXVIIIth-Dynasty kings, the burial-places of only Thutmosis II. , Tutankhamon, and Horemheb remained undiscovered, and the hopes of theexcavators concentrated on these three Pharaohs. 

After a few weeks of digging, the mouth of a large shaft cut into thelimestone was cleared. This proved to lead into a small chamberhalf-filled with rubbish, amongst which some fine jewellery, evidentlyhidden here, was found. This is now well published by Mr Davis infacsimile, and further mention of it here is unnecessary. Continuing thework, it was not long before traces of another tomb became apparent, andin a few days' time we were able to look down from the surroundingmounds of rubbish upon the commencement of a rectangular cutting in therock. The size and style of the entrance left no doubt that the work wasto be dated to the end of the XVIIIth Dynasty, and the excavators wereconfident that the tomb of either Tutankhamon or Horemheb lay beforethem. Steps leading down to the entrance were presently uncovered, andfinally the doorway itself was freed from _débris_. 

On one of the door-posts an inscription was now seen, written in blackink by one of the Government inspectors of B. C. 1100. This stated, thatin the fourth year of an unknown king the tomb had been inspected, andhad been found to be that of Horemheb. 

[Illustration: PL. XXII. The mouth of the tomb of Horemheb at the time of its discovery. The author is seen emerging from the tomb after the first entrance had been effected. On the hillside the workmen are grouped. ]

 [_Photo by Lady Glyn. _

We had hoped now to pass into the tomb without further difficulty, butin this we were disappointed, for the first corridor was quite chokedwith the rubbish placed there by the inspectors. This corridor led downat a steep angle through the limestone hillside, and, like all otherparts of the tomb, it was carefully worked. It was not until two dayslater that enough clearing had been done to allow us to crawl in overthe rubbish, which was still piled up so nearly to the roof that therewas only just room to wriggle downwards over it with our backs pressingagainst the stone above. At the lower end of the corridor there was aflight of steps towards which the rubbish shelved, and, sliding down theslope, we were here able to stand once more. It was obvious that thetomb did not stop here, and work, therefore, had to be begun on therubbish which choked the stairway in order to expose the entrance tofurther passages. A doorway soon became visible, and at last this wassufficiently cleared to permit of our crawling into the next corridor, though now we were even more closely squeezed between the roof and the_débris_ than before. 

The party which made the entrance consisted of Mr Davis; his assistant, Mr Ayrton; Mr Harold Jones; Mr Max Dalison, formerly of the EgyptExploration Fund; and myself. Wriggling and crawling, we pushed andpulled ourselves down the sloping rubbish, until, with a rattlingavalanche of small stones, we arrived at the bottom of the passage, where we scrambled to our feet at the brink of a large rectangular well, or shaft. Holding the lamps aloft, the surrounding walls were seen to becovered with wonderfully preserved paintings executed on slightlyraised plaster. Here Horemheb was seen standing before Isis, Osiris, Horus, and other gods; and his cartouches stood out boldly from amidstthe elaborate inscriptions. The colours were extremely rich, and, thoughthere was so much to be seen ahead, we stood there for some minutes, looking at them with a feeling much akin to awe. 

The shaft was partly filled with rubbish, and not being very deep, wewere able to climb down it by means of a ladder, and up the other sideto an entrance which formed a kind of window in the sheer wall. Inentering a large tomb for the first time, there are one or two sceneswhich fix themselves upon the memory more forcefully than others, andone feels as though one might carry these impressions intact to thegrave. In this tomb there was nothing so impressive as this view acrossthe well and through the entrance in the opposite wall. At one's feetlay the dark pit; around one the gaudy paintings gleamed; and throughthe window-like aperture before one, a dim suggestion could be obtainedof a white-pillared hall. The intense eagerness to know what was beyond, and, at the same time, the feeling that it was almost desecration toclimb into those halls which had stood silent for thousands of years, cast a spell over the scene and made it unforgetable. 

This aperture had once been blocked up with stones, and the paintingshad passed across it, thus hiding it from view, so that a robberentering the tomb might think that it ended here. But the trick was anold one, and the plunderers had easily detected the entrance, had pulledaway the blocks, and had climbed through. Following in their footsteps, we went up the ladder and passed through the entrance into the pillaredhall. Parts of the roof had fallen in, and other parts appeared to belikely to do so at any moment. Clambering over the _débris_ we descendedanother sloping corridor, which was entered through a cutting in thefloor of the hall, originally blocked up and hidden. This brought usinto a chamber covered with paintings, like those around the well; andagain we were brought to a standstill by the amazingly fresh colourswhich arrested and held the attention. 

We then passed on into the large burial-hall, the roof of which wassupported by crumbling pillars. Slabs of limestone had broken off hereand there and had crashed down on to the floor, bringing with themportions of the ceiling painted with a design of yellow stars on a blackground. On the walls were unfinished paintings, and it was interestingto notice that the north, south, east, and west were clearly marked uponthe four walls for ceremonial purposes. 

The main feature towards which our eyes were turned was the greatpink-granite sarcophagus which stood in the middle of the hall. Itssides were covered with well-cut inscriptions of a religious nature; andat the four corners there were figures of Isis and Nephthys, in relief, with their wings spread out as though in protection around the body. Looking into the sarcophagus, the lid having been thrown off by theplunderers, we found it empty except for a skull and a few bones of morethan one person. The sarcophagus stood upon the limestone floor, andunder it small holes had been cut, in each of which a little woodenstatue of a god had been placed. Thus the king's body was, so to speak, carried on the heads of the gods, and held aloft by their arms. This isa unique arrangement, and has never before been found in any burial. 

In all directions broken figures of the gods were lying, and two defacedwooden statues of the king were overthrown beside the sarcophagus. Beautiful pieces of furniture, such as were found by Mr Davis in thetomb of Yuaa and Thuau, were not to be expected in the sepulchre of aPharaoh; for whereas those two persons were only mortals and requiredmortal comforts in the Underworld, the king was a god and needed onlythe comfort of the presence of other gods. Dead flowers were found hereand there amidst the _débris_, these being the remnant of the masses ofgarlands which were always heaped around and over the coffin. 

Peering into a little chamber on the right, we saw two skulls and somebroken bones lying in the corner. These appeared to be female, and oneof the skulls may have been that of Mutnezem, the queen. In anothersmall chamber on the left there was a fine painting of Osiris on theback wall; and, crouching at the foot of this, a statuette of a god withupraised hands had been placed. As we turned the corner and came upon itin the full glare of the lamps, one felt that the arms were raised inhorror at sight of us, and that the god was gasping with surprise andindignation at our arrival. In the floor of another ante-chamber asquare hole was cut, leading down to a small room. A block of stone hadneatly fitted over the opening, thus hiding it from view; but therobbers had detected the crack, and had found the hiding-place. Herethere were a skull and a few bones, again of more than one person. Altogether there must have been four bodies buried in the tomb; and itseems that the inspectors, finding them strewn in all directions, hadreplaced one skull in the sarcophagus, two in the side room, and one inthis hiding-place, dividing up the bones between these three places asthey thought fit. It may be that the king himself was buried in theunderground chamber, and that the sarcophagus was a sort of blind; forhe had seen the destruction caused by robbers in the tomb of ThutmosisIV. , which he had restored, and he may have made this attempt to securethe safety of his own body. Whether this be so or not, however, Fate hasnot permitted the body of the great king to escape the hands of thedestroyer, and it will now never be known with certainty whether one ofthese four heads wore the crown of the Pharaohs. 

The temperature was very great in the tomb, and the perspirationstreamed down our faces as we stood contemplating the devastation. Nowthe electric lamps would flash upon the gods supporting the ransackedsarcophagus, lighting for a moment their grotesque forms; now theattention would concentrate upon some wooden figure of ahippopotamus-god or cow-headed deity; and now the light would bring intoprominence the great overthrown statue of the king. There is somethingpeculiarly sensational in the examining of a tomb which has not beenentered for such thousands of years, but it must be left to theimaginative reader to infuse a touch of that feeling of the dramaticinto these words. It would be hopeless to attempt to put into writingthose impressions which go to make the entering of a great Egyptiansepulchre so thrilling an experience: one cannot describe the silence, the echoing steps, the dark shadows, the hot, breathless air; nor tellof the sense of vast Time the penetrating of it which stirs one sodeeply. 

The air was too bad to permit of our remaining long so deep in thebowels of the earth; and we presently made our way through halls andcorridors back to the upper world, scrambling and crashing over the_débris_, and squeezing ourselves through the rabbit-hole by which wehad entered. As we passed out of this hot, dark tomb into the brilliantsunlight and the bracing north wind, the gloomy wreck of the place wasbrought before the imagination with renewed force. The scattered bones, the broken statues, the dead flowers, grouped themselves in the mindinto a picture of utter decay. In some of the tombs which have beenopened the freshness of the objects has caused one to exclaim at theinaction of the years; but here, where vivid and well-preservedwall-paintings looked down on a jumbled collection of smashed fragmentsof wood and bones, one felt how hardly the Powers deal with the dead. How far away seemed the great fight between Amon and Aton; how futilethe task which Horemheb accomplished so gloriously! It was all over andforgotten, and one asked oneself what it mattered whether the way wasdifficult or the battle slow to win. In the fourth year of the reign ofHoremheb a certain harper named Neferhotep partly composed a song whichwas peculiarly appropriate to the tune which ran in one's head at theopening of the tomb of this Pharaoh whom the harper served--

 "(1. ) Behold the dwellings of the dead. Their walls fall down; their place is no more: they are as though they had never existed. (2. ) That which hath come into being must pass away again. The young men and maidens go to their places; the sun riseth at dawn, and setteth again in the hills of the west. Men beget and women conceive. The children, too, go to the places which are appointed for them. O, then, be happy! Come, scents and perfumes are set before thee: _mahu_-flowers and lilies for the arms and neck of thy beloved. Come, songs and music are before thee. Set behind thee all cares; think only upon gladness, until that day cometh whereon thou shalt go down to the land which loveth silence. "

Horemheb must often have heard this song sung in his palace at Thebes byits composer; but did he think, one wonders, that it would be the wallsof his own tomb which would fall down, and his own bones which would bealmost as though they had never existed?

 PART IV. 

 THE PRESERVATION OF THE TREASURY. 

 "Laugh and mock if you will at the worship of stone idols, but mark ye this, ye breakers of images, that in one regard the stone idol bears awful semblance of Deity--the unchangefulness in the midst of change--the same seeming will, and intent for ever and ever inexorable!... And we, we shall die, and Islam will wither away, and the Englishman straining far over to hold his loved India, will plant a firm foot on the banks of the Nile and sit in the seats of the Faithful, and still that sleepless rock will lie watching and watching the works of the new busy race, with those same sad earnest eyes, and the same tranquil mien everlastingly. " --KINGLAKE: _Eothen_ (1844). 

 CHAPTER X. 

 THEBAN THIEVES. 

Thebes was the ancient capital of Egypt, and its ruins are the mostextensive in the Nile Valley. On the east bank of the river, at themodern towns of Luxor and Karnak, there are the remains of mightytemples; and on the west bank, in the neighbourhood of the village ofGurneh, tombs, mortuary chapels, and temples, literally cover theground. The inhabitants of these three places have for generationsaugmented their incomes by a traffic in antiquities, and the peasants ofGurneh have, more especially, become famous as the most hardy pilferersof the tombs of their ancestors in all Egypt. In conducting thislucrative business they have lately had the misfortune to be recognisedas thieves and robbers by the Government, and it is one of my duties topoint this out to them. As a matter of fact they are no more thievesthan you or I. It is as natural for them to scratch in the sand forantiquities as it is for us to pick flowers by the roadside:antiquities, like flowers, are the product of the soil, and it islargely because the one is more rare than the other that itspromiscuous appropriation has been constituted an offence. The nativewho is sometimes child enough to put his eyes out rather than serve inthe army, who will often suffer all manner of wrongs rather than carryhis case to the local courts, and who will hide his money under his bedrather than trust it to the safest bank, is not likely to be intelligentenough to realise that, on scientific grounds, he is committing a crimein digging for scarabs. He is beginning to understand that in the eyesof the law he is a criminal, but he has not yet learnt so to regardhimself. I here name him thief, for officially that is his designation;but there is no sting in the word, nor is any insult intended. By allcultured persons the robbery of antiquities must be regarded as a graveoffence, and one which has to be checked. But the point is ethical; andwhat has the Theban to do with ethics? The robbery of antiquities iscarried out in many different ways and from many different motives. Sometimes it is romantic treasure hunting that the official has to dealwith; sometimes it is adventurous robbery with violence; sometimes it isthe taking advantage of chance discoveries; sometimes it is thepilfering of objects found in authorised excavations; and sometimes itis the stealing of fragments smashed from the walls of the ancientmonuments. All these forms of robbery, except the last, may call for thesympathy of every reader of these lines who happens not to havecultivated that vaguely defined "archæological sense" which is, practically, the product of this present generation alone; and in theinstances which are here to be given the point of view of the "Thebanthief" will be readily appreciated. 

[Illustration: PL. XXIII. A modern Theban Fellah-woman and her child. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _

Treasure hunting is a relic of childhood that remains, like all otherforms of romance and adventure, a permanently youthful feature in ourworn old hearts. It has been drilled into us by the tales of ourboyhood, and, in later life, it has become part of that universal desireto get something for nothing which lies behind our most honest effortsto obtain the goods of this world. Who has not desired the hidden wealthof the late Captain Kidd, or coveted the lost treasure of the Incas? Irecently wrote an article which was entitled "Excavations in Egypt, " butthe editor of the magazine in which it appeared hastily altered thesewords to "Treasure Hunting in Egypt, " and thereby commanded theattention of twice the number of readers. Can we wonder, then, that thisform of adventure is so often met with in Egypt, the land of hiddentreasure? The Department of Antiquities has lately published acollection of mediæval traditions with regard to this subject, which isknown as the Book of the Pearl. In it one is told the exact places whereexcavations should be made to lay bare the wealth of the ancients. "Goto such and such a spot, " says this curious book, "and dig to the depthof so many cubits, and you will find a trap-door; descend through thisand you will find a chamber wherein are forty jars filled with gold. Take what you want, and give thanks to God. " Many of the sites referredto have been literally hacked out of all recognition by the picks andspades of thousands of gold-seekers; and it may be that sometimes theirefforts have been rewarded, since a certain amount of genuineinformation is embodied in the traditions. Sir Gaston Maspero, theDirector-General of the Department of Antiquities, tells a story of howa native came to him asking permission to excavate at a certain spotwhere he believed treasure to be hidden. Sir Gaston accompanied him tothe place, and a tunnel was bored into what appeared to be virgin sandand rock. At the end of the first day's work the futility of his labourswas pointed out to the man, but he was not to be daunted. For two moredays he stood watching the work from morn to nightfall with hope burningin his eyes, and on the following morning his reward came. Suddenly theground gave way before the picks of the workmen, and a hole was seenleading into a forgotten cave. In this cave the implements of mediævalcoiners were discovered, and an amount of metal, false and true, wasfound which had been used by them in the process of their business. 

A short time ago a man applied for permission to perform a similar kindof excavation at a place called Nag Hamadi, and in my absencepermission was given him. On my return the following report wassubmitted: "... Having reached the spot indicated the man started toblow the stones by means of the Denamits. Also he slaught a lamb, thinking that there is a treasure, and that when the lamb being slaughthe will discover it at once. " In plainer English, the man had blown upthe rocks with dynamite, and had attempted to further his efforts bysacrificing a lamb to the _djin_ who guarded the treasure. The _djin_, however, was not thus to be propitiated, and the gold of the Pharaohswas never found. More recently the watchmen of the famous temple of Dêrel Bahri found themselves in trouble owing to the discovery that part ofthe ancient pavement showed signs of having been raised, stone by stone, in order that the ground below might be searched for the treasure whicha tradition, such as those in the Book of the Pearl, had reported aslying hid there. 

Almost as romantic as treasure hunting is robbery with violence. We allremember our boyhood's fascination for piracy, smuggling, and theprofession of Dick Turpin; and to the Theban peasant, who is essentiallyyouthful in his ideas, this form of fortune hunting has irresistibleattractions. When a new tomb is discovered by authorised archæologists, especially when it is situated in some remote spot such as the Valley ofthe Kings, there is always some fear of an armed raid; and police guardthe spot night and day until the antiquities have been removed to Cairo. The workmen who have been employed in the excavation return to theirhomes with wonderful tales of the wealth which the tomb contains, and inthe evening the discovery is discussed by the women at the well wherethe water is drawn for the village, with the result that it very soonassumes prodigious proportions, inflaming the minds of all men with thegreed of gold. Visitors often ask why it is that the mummies of thePharaohs are not left to lie each in its own tomb; and it is argued thatthey look neither congruous nor dignified in the glass cases of themuseum. The answer is obvious to all who know the country: put them backin their tombs, and, without continuous police protection, they will bebroken into fragments by robbers, bolts and bars notwithstanding. Theexperiment of leaving the mummy and some of the antiquities _in situ_has only once been tried, and it has not been a complete success. It wasdone in the case of the tomb of Amenhotep II. At Thebes, the mummy beinglaid in its original sarcophagus; and a model boat, used in one of thefuneral ceremonies, was left in the tomb. One night the six watchmen whowere in charge of the royal tombs stated that they had been attacked byan armed force; the tomb in question was seen to have been entered, theiron doors having been forced. The mummy of the Pharaoh was found lyingupon the floor of the burial-hall, its chest smashed in; and the boathad disappeared, nor has it since been recovered. The watchmen showedsigns of having put up something of a fight, their clothes being riddledwith bullet-holes; but here and there the cloth looked much as though ithad been singed, which suggested, as did other evidence, that theythemselves had fired the guns and had acted the struggle. The truth ofthe matter will never be known, but its lesson is obvious. The mummy wasput back into its sarcophagus, and there it has remained secure eversince; but one never knows how soon it will be dragged forth once moreto be searched for the gold with which every native thinks it isstuffed. 

Some years ago an armed gang walked off with a complete series ofmortuary reliefs belonging to a tomb at Sakkârah. They came by night, overpowered the watchmen, loaded the blocks of stone on to camels, anddisappeared into the darkness. Sometimes it is an entire cemetery thatis attacked; and, if it happens to be situated some miles from thenearest police-station, a good deal of work can be done before theauthorities get wind of the affair. Last winter six hundred men set towork upon a patch of desert ground where a tomb had been accidentlyfound, and, ere I received the news, they had robbed a score of littlegraves, many of which must have contained objects purchasable by thedealers in antiquities for quite large sums of money. At Abydos a tombwhich we had just discovered was raided by the villagers, and we onlyregained possession of it after a rapid exchange of shots, one of whichcame near ending a career whose continuance had been, since birth, amatter of great importance to myself. But how amusing the adventure musthave been for the raiders!

The appropriation of treasure-trove come upon by chance, or the diggingout of graves accidentally discovered, is a very natural form of robberyfor the natives to indulge in, and one which commends itself to thesympathies of all those not actively concerned in its suppression. Thereare very few persons even in western countries who would be willing tohand over to the Government a hoard of gold discovered in their own backgarden. In Egypt the law is that the treasure-trove thus discoveredbelongs to the owner of the property; and thus there is always a certainamount of excavation going on behind the walls of the houses. It is alsothe law that the peasants may carry away the accumulated rubbish on theupper layers of ancient town sites, in order to use it as a fertiliserfor their crops, since it contains valuable phosphates. This work issupervised by watchmen, but this does not prevent the stealing of almostall the antiquities which are found. As illegal excavators these_sebakhîn_, or manure-diggers, are the worst offenders, for they searchfor the phosphates in all manner of places, and are constantly comingupon tombs or ruins which they promptly clear of their contents. Onesees them driving their donkeys along the roads, each laden with a sackof manure, and it is certain that some of these sacks containantiquities. In Thebes many of the natives live inside the tombs of theancient nobles, these generally consisting of two or three rock-hewnhalls from which a tunnel leads down to the burial-chamber. Generallythis tunnel is choked with _débris_, and the owner of the house willperhaps come upon it by chance, and will dig it out, in the vain hopethat earlier plunderers have left some of the antiquities undisturbed. It recently happened that an entire family was asphyxiated whileattempting to penetrate into a newly discovered tunnel, each memberentering to ascertain the fate of the previous explorer, and each beingovercome by the gases. On one occasion I was asked by a native toaccompany him down a tunnel, the entrance of which was in his stable, inorder to view a sarcophagus which lay at the bottom. We each took acandle, and, crouching down to avoid the low roof, we descended thenarrow, winding passage, the loose stones sliding beneath our feet. Theair was very foul; and below us there was the thunderous roar ofthousands of wings beating through the echoing passage--the wings ofevil-smelling bats. Presently we reached this uncomfortable zone. Sothickly did the bats hang from the ceiling that the rock itself seemedto be black; but as we advanced, and the creatures took to their wings, this black covering appeared to peel off the rock. During the entiredescent this curious spectacle of regularly receding blackness andadvancing grey was to be seen a yard or so in front of us. The roar ofwings was now deafening, for the space into which we were driving thebats was very confined. My guide shouted to me that we must let thempass out of the tomb over our heads. We therefore crouched down, and afew stones were flung into the darkness ahead. Then, with a roar and arush of air, they came, bumping into us, entangling themselves in ourclothes, slapping our faces and hands with their unwholesome wings, andclinging to our fingers. At last the thunder died away in the passagebehind us, and we were able to advance more easily, though the groundwas alive with the bats maimed in the frantic flight which had takenplace, floundering out of our way and squeaking shrilly. The sarcophagusproved to be of no interest, so the encounter with the bats was to nopurpose. 

The pilfering of antiquities found during the course of authorisedexcavations is one of the most common forms of robbery. The overseercannot always watch the workmen sufficiently closely to prevent thempocketing the small objects which they find, and it is an easy matter tocarry off the stolen goods, even though the men are searched at the endof the day. A little girl minding her father's sheep and goats in theneighbourhood of the excavations, and apparently occupying her handswith the spinning of flax, is perhaps the receiver of the objects. Thusit is more profitable to dig for antiquities even in authorisedexcavations than to work the water-hoist, which is one of the usualoccupations of the peasant. Pulling the hoisting-pole down, and swingingit up again with its load of water many thousands of times in the day, is monotonous work; whereas digging in the ground, with the eyes keenlywatching for the appearance of antiquities, is always interesting andexciting. And why should the digger refrain from appropriating theobjects which his pick reveals? If he does not make use of hisopportunities and carry off the antiquities, the western director of theworks will take them to his own country and sell them for his ownprofit. All natives believe that the archæologists work for the purposeof making money. Speaking of Professor Flinders Petrie, a peasant saidto me the other day: "He has worked five-and-twenty years now; he mustbe _very_ rich. " He would never believe that the antiquities were givento museums without any payment being made to the finder. 

The stealing of fragments broken out of the walls of "show" monuments isalmost the only form of robbery which will receive general condemnation. That this vandalism is also distasteful to the natives themselves isshown by the fact that several better-class Egyptians living in theneighbourhood of Thebes subscribed, at my invitation, the sum of £50 forthe protection of certain beautiful tombs. When they were shown theworks undertaken with their money, they expressed themselves as being"pleased with the delicate inscriptions in the tombs, but very awfullyangry at the damage which the devils of ignorant people had made. " Anative of moderate intelligence can quite appreciate the argument thatwhereas the continuous warfare between the agents of the Department ofAntiquities and the illegal excavators of small graves is what might becalled an honourable game, the smashing of public monuments cannot becalled fair-play from whatever point of view the matter is approached. Often revenge or spite is the cause of this damage. It is sometimesnecessary to act with severity to the peasants who infringe the rules ofthe Department, but a serious danger lies in such action, for it is thenature of the Thebans to revenge themselves not on the official directlybut on the monuments which he is known to love. Two years ago a nativeillegally built himself a house on Government ground, and I was obligedto go through the formality of pulling it down, which I did by obliginghim to remove a few layers of brickwork around the walls. A short timeafterwards a famous tomb was broken into and a part of the paintingsdestroyed; and there was enough evidence to show that the owner ofthis house was the culprit, though unfortunately he could not beconvicted. One man actually had the audacity to warn me that anyseverity on my part would be met by destruction of monuments. Underthese circumstances an official finds himself in a dilemma. If hemaintains the dignity and prestige of his Department by punishing anyoffences against it, he endangers the very objects for the care of whichhe is responsible; and it is hard to say whether under a lax or a severeadministration the more damage would be done. 

[Illustration: PL. XXIV. A modern Gournawi beggar. ]

 [_Photo by E. Bird. _

The produce of these various forms of robbery is easily disposed of. When once the antiquities have passed into the hands of the dealersthere is little chance of further trouble. The dealer can always saythat he came into possession of an object years ago, before theantiquity laws were made, and it is almost impossible to prove that hedid not. You may have the body of a statue and he the head: he canalways damage the line of the breakage, and say that the head does notbelong to that statue, or, if the connection is too obvious, he can saythat he found the head while excavating twenty years ago on the sitewhere now you have found the body. Nor is it desirable to bring anaction against the man in a case of this kind, for it might go againstthe official. Dealing in antiquities is regarded as a perfectlyhonourable business. The official, crawling about the desert on hisstomach in the bitter cold of a winter's night in order to hold up aconvoy of stolen antiquities, may use hard language in regard to thetrade, but he cannot say that it is pernicious as long as it is confinedto minor objects. How many objects of value to science would bedestroyed by their finders if there was no market to take them to! Oneof the Theban dealers leads so holy a life that he will assuredly beregarded as a saint by future generations. 

The sale of small antiquities to tourists on the public roads isprohibited, except at certain places, but of course it can be done withimpunity by the exercise of a little care. Men and boys and even littlegirls as they pass will stare at you with studying eyes, and if you seemto be a likely purchaser, they will draw from the folds of theirgarments some little object which they will offer for sale. Along theroad in the glory of the setting sun there will come as fine a young manas you will see on a day's march. Surely he is bent on some noblemission: what lofty thoughts are occupying his mind, you wonder. But asyou pass, out comes the scarab from his pocket, and he shouts, "Wantyscarab, mister?--two shillin', " while you ride on your way a greatercynic than before. 

Some years ago a large inscribed stone was stolen from a certain temple, and was promptly sold to a man who sometimes traded in such objects. This man carried the stone, hidden in a sack of grain, to the house ofa friend, and having deposited it in a place of hiding, he tramped home, with his stick across his shoulders, in an attitude of deep unconcern. An enemy of his, however, had watched him, and promptly gaveinformation. Acting on this the police set out to search the house. Whenwe reached the entrance we were met by the owner, and a warrant wasshown to him. A heated argument followed, at the end of which theinfuriated man waved us in with a magnificent and most dramatic gesture. There were some twenty rooms in the house, and the stifling heat of aJuly noon made the task none too enjoyable. The police inspector wasextremely thorough in his work, and an hour had passed before threerooms had been searched. He looked into the cupboards, went down on hisknees to peer into the ovens, stood on tiptoe to search the fragilewooden shelves (it was a heavy stone which we were looking for), huntedunder the mats, and even peeped into a little tobacco-tin. In one of therooms there were three or four beds arranged along the middle of thefloor. The inspector pulled off the mattresses, and out from under eachthere leapt a dozen rats, which, if I may be believed, made for thewalls and ran straight up them, disappearing in the rafter-holes at thetop. The sight of countless rats hurrying up perpendicular walls may befamiliar to some people, but I venture to call it an amazing spectacle, worthy of record. Then came the opening of one or twotravelling-trunks. The inspector ran his hand through the clothes whichlay therein, and out jumped a few more rats, which likewise went up thewalls. The searching of the remaining rooms carried us well through theafternoon; and at last, hot and weary, we decided to abandon the hunt. Two nights later a man was seen walking away from the house with a heavysack on his back; and the stone is now, no doubt, in the Westernhemisphere. 

The attempt to regain a lost antiquity is seldom crowned with success. It is so extremely difficult to obtain reliable information; and as soonas a man is suspected his enemies will rush in with accusations. Thirty-eight separate accusations were sent in against a certainhead-watchman during the first days after the fact had leaked out thathe was under suspicion. Not one of them could be shown to be true. Sometimes one man will bring a charge against another for the bettermentof his own interests. Here is a letter from a watchman who had resigned, but wished to rejoin, "To his Exec. Chief Dircoter of the tembels. Ihave honner to inform that I am your servant X, watchman on the tembelsbefore this time. Sir from one year ago I work in the Santruple (?) as awatchman about four years ago. And I not make anything wrong and yourExec. Know me. Now I want to work in my place in the tembel, because theman which in it he not attintive to His, but alway he in the coffee.... He also steal the scribed stones. Please give your order to point meagain. Your servant, X. " "The coffee" is, of course, the _café_ whichadjoins the temple. 

A short time ago a young man came to me with an accusation against hisown father, who, he said, had stolen a statuette. The tale which he toldwas circumstantial, but it was hotly denied by his infuriated parent. Helooked, however, a trifle more honest than his father, and when ayounger brother was brought in as witness, one felt that the guilt ofthe old man would be the probable finding. The boy stared steadfastly atthe ground for some moments, however, and then launched out into anelaborate explanation of the whole affair. He said that he asked hisfather to lend him four pounds, but the father had refused. The soninsisted that that sum was due to him as his share in some transaction, and pointed out that though he only asked for it as a loan, he had inreality a claim to it. The old man refused to hand it over, and the son, therefore, waited his opportunity and stole it from his house, carryingit off triumphantly to his own establishment. Here he gave it into thecharge of his young wife, and went about his business. The father, however, guessed where the money had gone; and while his son was out, invaded his house, beat his daughter-in-law on the soles of her feetuntil she confessed where the money was hidden, and then, havingobtained it, returned to his home. When the son came back to his househe learnt what had happened, and, out of spite, at once invented theaccusation which he had brought to me. This story appeared to be true inso far as the quarrel over the money was concerned, but that theaccusation was invented proved to be untrue. 

Sometimes the peasants have such honest faces that it is difficult tobelieve that they are guilty of deceit. A lady came to the camp of acertain party of excavators at Thebes, holding in her hand a scarab. "Dotell me, " she said to one of the archæologists, "whether this scarab isgenuine. I am sure it must be, for I bought it from a boy who assured methat he had stolen it from your excavations, and he looked such anhonest and truthful little fellow. "

In order to check pilfering in a certain excavation in which I wasassisting we made a rule that the selected workmen should not be allowedto put unselected substitutes in their place. One day I came upon a manwhose appearance did not seem familiar, although his back was turned tome. I asked him who he was, whereupon he turned upon me a countenancewhich might have served for the model of a painting of St John, and in alow, sweet-voice he told me of the illness of the real workman, and ofhow he had taken over the work in order to obtain money for the purchaseof medicine for him, they being friends from their youth up. I sent himaway and told him to call for any medicine he might want that evening. I did not see him again until about a week later, when I happened tomeet him in the village with a policeman on either side of him, from oneof whom I learned that he was a well-known thief. Thus is one deceivedeven in the case of real criminals: how then can one expect to get atthe truth when the crime committed is so light an affair as the stealingof an antiquity?

The following is a letter received from one of the greatest thieves inThebes, who is now serving a term of imprisonment in the provincialgaol:--

 "SIR GENERAL INSPECTOR, --I offer this application stating that I am from the natives of Gurneh, saying the following:--

 'On Saturday last I came to your office and have been told that my family using the sate to strengthen against the Department. The result of this talking that all these things which somebody pretends are not the fact. In fact I am taking great care of the antiquities for the purpose of my living matter. Accordingly, I wish to be appointed in the vacant of watching to the antiquities in my village and promise myself that if anything happens I do hold myself resposible. '"

I have no idea what "using the sate to strengthen" means. 

It is sometimes said that European excavators are committing an offenceagainst the sensibilities of the peasants by digging up the bodies oftheir ancestors. Nobody will repeat this remark who has walked over acemetery plundered by the natives themselves. Here bodies may be seenlying in all directions, torn limb from limb by the gold-seekers; herebeautiful vases may be seen smashed to atoms in order to make more rarethe specimens preserved. The peasant has no regard whatsoever for thesanctity of the ancient dead, nor does any superstition in this regarddeter him in his work of destruction. Fortunately superstition sometimeschecks other forms of robbery. _Djins_ are believed to guard the hoardsof ancient wealth which some of the tombs are thought to contain, as, for example, in the case of the tomb in which the family wasasphyxiated, where a fiend of this kind was thought to have throttledthe unfortunate explorers. Twin brothers are thought to have the powerof changing themselves into cats at will; and a certain Huseyn Osman, aharmless individual enough, and a most expert digger, would turn himselfinto a cat at night-time, not only for the purpose of stealing hisbrother Muhammed Osman's dinner, but also in order to protect the tombswhich his patron was occupied in excavating. One of the overseers insome recent excavations was said to have power of detecting allrobberies on his works. The archæologist, however, is unfortunatelyunable to rely upon this form of protection, and many are the schemesfor the prevention of pilfering which are tried. 

In some excavations a sum of money is given to the workman for everyantiquity found by him, and these sums are sufficiently high to preventany outbidding by the dealers. Work thus becomes very expensive for thearchæologist, who is sometimes called upon to pay £10 or £20 in a day. The system has also another disadvantage, namely, that the workmen areapt to bring antiquities from far and near to "discover" in theirdiggings in order to obtain a good price for them. Nevertheless, itwould seem to be the most successful of the systems. In the Governmentexcavations it is usual to employ a number of overseers to watch for thesmall finds, while for only the really valuable discoveries is a rewardgiven. 

For finding the famous gold hawk's head at Hieraconpolis a workmanreceived £14, and with this princely sum in his pocket he went to acertain Englishman to ask advice as to the spending of it. He wastroubled, he said, to decide whether to buy a wife or a cow. He admittedthat he had already one wife, and that two of them would be sure tointroduce some friction into what was now a peaceful household; and hequite realised that a cow would be less apt to quarrel with his firstwife. The Englishman, very properly, voted for the cow, and the peasantreturned home deep in thought. While pondering over the matter duringthe next few weeks, he entertained his friends with some freedom, andsoon he found to his dismay that he had not enough money left to buyeither a wife or a cow. Thereupon he set to with a will, and soon spentthe remaining guineas in riotous living. When he was next seen by theEnglishman he was a beggar, and, what was worse, his taste for evilliving had had several weeks of cultivation. 

The case of the fortunate finder of a certain great _cache_ of mummieswas different. He received a reward of £400, and this he buried in avery secret place. When he died his possessions descended to his sons. After the funeral they sat round the grave of the old man, and veryrightly discussed his virtues until the sun set. Then they returned tothe house and began to dig for the hidden money. For some days theyturned the sand of the floor over; but failing to find what they sought, they commenced operations on a patch of desert under the shade of sometamarisks where their father was wont to sit of an afternoon. It is saidthat for twelve hours they worked like persons possessed, the menhacking at the ground, and the boys carrying away the sand in baskets toa convenient distance. But the money was never found. 

It is not often that the finders of antiquities inform the authoritiesof their good fortune, but when they do so an attempt is made to givethem a good reward. A letter from the finder of an inscribed statue, whowished to claim his reward, read as follows: "With all delight I pleaseinform you that on 8th Jan. Was found a headless temple of granitesitting on a chair and printed on it. "

I will end this chapter as I began it, in the defence of the Thebanthieves. In a place where every yard of ground contains antiquities, andwhere these antiquities may be so readily converted into golden guineas, can one wonder that every man, woman, and child makes use of hisopportunities in this respect to better his fortune? The peasant doesnot take any interest in the history of mankind, and he cannot beexpected to know that in digging out a grave and scattering itscontents, through the agency of dealers, over the face of the globe, heloses for ever the facts which the archæologist is striving so hard toobtain. The scientific excavator does not think the antiquitiesthemselves so valuable as the record of the exact arrangement in whichthey were found. From such data alone can he obtain his knowledge of themanners and customs of this wonderful people. When two objects are foundtogether, the date of one being known and that of the other unknown, thearchæological value of the find lies in the fact that the former willplace the latter in its correct chronological position. But if these twoobjects are sold separately, the find may perhaps lose its entiresignificance. The trained archæologist records every atom of informationwith which he meets; the native records nothing. And hence, if there isany value at all in the study of the history of mankind, illegalexcavation must be stopped. 

 CHAPTER XI. 

 THE FLOODING OF LOWER NUBIA. 

The country of Lower Nubia lies between the First and Second Cataractsof the Nile. The town of Aswan, once famous as the frontier outpost ofEgypt and now renowned as a winter resort for Europeans and Americans, stands some two or three miles below the First Cataract; and two hundredmiles southwards, at the foot of the Second Cataract, stands Wady Halfa. About half-way between these two points the little town of Derr nestlesamidst its palms; and here the single police-station of the province issituated. Agriculturally the land is extremely barren, for the mereststrip of cultivation borders the river, and in many reaches the desertcomes down to the water's edge. The scenery is rugged and oftenmagnificent. As one sails up the Nile the rocky hills on either sidegroup themselves into bold compositions, rising darkly above the palmsand acacias reflected in the water. The villages, clustered on thehillsides as though grown like mushrooms in the night, are notdifferent in colour to the ground upon which they are built; but hereand there neatly whitewashed houses of considerable size are to beobserved. Now we come upon a tract of desert sand which rolls down tothe river in a golden slope; now the hills recede, leaving an open baywherein there are patches of cultivated ground reclaimed from thewilderness; and now a dense but narrow palm-grove follows the line ofthe bank for a mile or more, backed by the villages at the foot of thehills. 

The inhabitants are few in number. Most of the males have taken serviceas cooks, butlers, waiters, and bottle-washers in European houses orhotels throughout Egypt; and consequently one sees more women than menpottering about the villages or working in the fields. They are a finerace, clean in their habits and cheery in character. They can bedistinguished with ease from the Egyptian _fellahîn_; for their skin hasmore the appearance of bronze, and their features are often moreaquiline. The women do not wear the veil, and their dresses are drapedover one shoulder in a manner unknown to Egypt. The method of dressingthe hair, moreover, is quite distinctive: the women plait it ininnumerable little strands, those along the forehead terminating inbead-like lumps of bee's-wax. The little children go nude for the firstsix or eight years of their life, though the girls sometimes wear aroundtheir waists a fringe made of thin strips of hide. The men still carryspears in some parts of the country, and a light battle-axe is not anuncommon weapon. 

There is no railway between Aswan and Halfa, all traffic being conductedon the river. Almost continuously a stream of native troops and Englishofficers passes up and down the Nile bound for Khartoum or Cairo; and inthe winter the tourists on steamers and _dahabiyehs_ travel through thecountry in considerable numbers to visit the many temples which werehere erected in the days when the land was richer than it is now. Thethree most famous ruins of Lower Nubia are those of Philae, just aboveAswan; Kalabsheh, some forty miles to the south; and Abu Simbel, aboutthirty miles below Halfa: but besides these there are many buildings ofimportance and interest. The ancient remains date from all periods ofEgyptian history; for Lower Nubia played an important part in Pharaonicaffairs, both by reason of its position as the buffer state betweenEgypt and the Sudan, and also because of its gold-mining industries. Inold days it was divided into several tribal states, these being governedby the Egyptian Viceroy of Ethiopia; but the country seldom revolted orgave trouble, and to the present day it retains its reputation forpeacefulness and orderly behaviour. 

Owing to the building, and now the heightening, of the great Nile dam atAswan, erected for the purpose of regulating the flow of water byholding back in the plenteous autumn and winter the amount necessary tokeep up the level in the dry summer months, the whole of the valley fromthe First Cataract to the neighbourhood of Derr will be turned into avast reservoir, and a large number of temples and other ruins will beflooded. Before the dam was finished the temples on the island of Philaewere strengthened and repaired so as to be safe from damage by thewater; and now every other ruin whose foundations are below the futurehigh-water level has been repaired and safeguarded. 

In 1906 and 1907 the present writer was dispatched to the threatenedterritory to make a full report on the condition of the monumentsthere;[1] and a very large sum of money was then voted for the work. SirGaston Maspero took the matter up in the spirit which is associated withhis name; Monsieur Barsanti was sent to repair and underpin the temples;French, German, and English scholars were engaged to make copies of theendangered inscriptions and reliefs; and Dr Reisner, Mr C. Firth, andothers, under the direction of Captain Lyons, were entrusted with thecomplete and exhaustive excavation of all the cemeteries and remainsbetween the dam and the southern extremity of the reservoir. As a resultof this work, not one scrap of information of any kind will be lost bythe flooding of the country. 

 [Footnote 1: Weigall: 'A Report on the Antiquities of Lower Nubia. ' (Department of Antiquities, Cairo, 1907. )]

As was to be expected, the building and raising of the dam causedconsternation amongst the archæologically interested visitors to Egypt, and very considerably troubled the Egyptologists. Philae, one of themost picturesque ruins on the Nile, was to be destroyed, said the morehysterical, and numerous other buildings were to meet with the samefate. A very great deal of nonsense was written as to the vandalism ofthe English; and the minds of certain people were so much inflamed bythe controversy that many regrettable words were spoken. The Departmentof Antiquities was much criticised for having approved the scheme, though it was more generally declared that the wishes of that Departmenthad not been consulted, which was wholly untrue. These strictures arepronounced on all sides at the present day, in spite of the verysignificant silence and imperturbation (not to say supination) ofEgyptologists, and it may therefore be as well to put the matter plainlybefore the reader, since the opinion of the person who is in charge ofthe ruins in question, has, whether right or wrong, a sort of interestattached to it. 

In dealing with a question of this kind one has to clear from the brainthe fumes of unbalanced thought and to behold all things with a levelhead. Strong wine is one of the lesser causes of insobriety, and thereis often more damage done by intemperance of thought in matters ofcriticism than there is by actions committed under the influence ofother forms of immoderation. We are agreed that it is a sad spectaclewhich is to be observed in the Old Kent Road on a Saturday night, whenthe legs of half the pedestrians appear to have lost their cunning. Wesay in disgust that these people are intoxicated. What, then, have we tosay regarding those persons whose brains are unbalanced by immoderatehabits of thought, who are suffering from that primary kind ofintoxication which the dictionary tells us is simply a condition of themind wherein clear judgment is obscured? There is sometimes a debaucheryin the reasoning faculties of the polite which sends their opinionsrollicking on their way just as drink will send a man staggering up thehighroad. Temperance and sobriety are virtues which in their relation tothought have a greater value than they possess in any other regard; andwe stand in more urgent need of missionaries to preach to us sobriety ofopinion, a sort of critical teetotalism, than ever a drunkard stood inwant of a pledge. 

This case of Philae and the Lower Nubian temples illustrates my meaning. On the one hand there are those who tell us that the island temple, farfrom being damaged by its flooding, is benefited thereby; and on theother hand there are persons who urge that the engineers concerned inthe making of the reservoir should be tarred and feathered to a man. Both these views are distorted and intemperate. Let us endeavour tostraighten up our opinions, to walk them soberly and decorously beforeus in an atmosphere of propriety. 

It will be agreed by all those who know Egypt that a great dam wasnecessary, and it will be admitted that no reach of the Nile below WadyHalfa could be converted into a reservoir with so little detriment to_modern_ interests as that of Lower Nubia. Here there were very fewcultivated fields to be inundated and a very small number of people tobe dislodged. There were, however, these important ruins which would beflooded by such a reservoir, and the engineers therefore made a mostserious attempt to find some other site for the building. A carefulstudy of the Nile valley showed that the present site of the dam was theonly spot at which a building of this kind could be set up withoutimmensely increasing the cost of erection and greatly adding to thegeneral difficulties and the possible dangers of the undertaking. Theengineers had, therefore, to ask themselves whether the damage to thetemples weighed against these considerations, whether it was right ornot to expend the extra sum from the taxes. The answer was plain enough. They were of opinion that the temples would not be appreciably damagedby their flooding. They argued, very justly, that the buildings would beunder water for only five months in each year, and for seven months theruins would appear to be precisely as they always had been. It was notnecessary, then, to state the loss of money and the addedinconveniences on the one hand against the total loss of the templeson the other. It was simply needful to ask whether the temporary andapparently harmless inundation of the ruins each year was worth avoidingat the cost of several millions of precious Government money; and, looking at it purely from an administrative point of view, rememberingthat public money had to be economised and inextravagantly dealt with, Ido not see that the answer given was in any way outrageous. Philae andthe other temples were not to be harmed: they were but to be closed tothe public, so to speak, for the winter months. 

[Illustration: PL. XXV. The island and temples of Philæ when the reservoir is empty. ]

 [_Photo by R. Glendinning. _

This view of the question is not based upon any error. In regard to thepossible destruction of Philae by the force of the water, Mr SomersClarke, F. S. A. , whose name is known all over the world in connectionwith his work at St Paul's Cathedral and elsewhere, states definitely[1]that he is convinced that the temples will not be overthrown by theflood, and his opinion is shared by all those who have studied thematter carefully. Of course it is possible that, in spite of all theworks of consolidation which have been effected, some cracks may appear;but during the months when the temple is out of water each year, thesemay be repaired. I cannot see that there is the least danger of anextensive collapse of the buildings; but should this occur, the entiretemple will have to be removed and set up elsewhere. Each summer andautumn when the water goes down and the buildings once more stand asthey did in the days of the Ptolemies and Romans, we shall have ampletime and opportunity to discuss the situation and to take all propersteps for the safeguarding of the temples against further damage; andeven were we to be confronted by a mass of fallen ruins, scatteredpell-mell over the island by the power of the water, I am convinced thatevery block could be replaced before the flood rose again. The temple ofMaharraka was entirely rebuilt in three or four weeks. 

 [Footnote 1: Proc. Soc. Antiq. , April 20, 1898. ]

Now, as to the effect of the water upon the reliefs and inscriptionswith which the walls of the temples at Philae are covered. In June 1905I reported[1] that a slight disintegration of the surface of the stonewas noticeable, and that the sharp lines of the hieroglyphs had becomesomewhat blurred. This is due to the action of the salts in thesandstone; but these salts have now disappeared, and the disintegrationwill not continue. The Report on the Temples of Philae, issued by theMinistry of Public Works in 1908, makes this quite clear; and I may addthat the proof of the statement is to be found at the many points on theNile where there are the remains of quay walls dating from Pharaonictimes. Many of these quays are constructed of inscribed blocks of astone precisely similar in quality to that used at Philae; and althoughthey have been submerged for many hundreds of years, the lines of thehieroglyphs are almost as sharp now as they ever were. The action of thewater appears to have little effect upon sandstone, and it may thus besafely predicted that the reliefs and inscriptions at Philae will notsuffer. 

 [Footnote 1: Les Annales du Service des Antiquites d'Egypte, vii. 1, p. 74. ]

There still remain some traces of colour upon certain reliefs, and thesewill disappear. But archæologically the loss will be insignificant, andartistically it will not be much felt. With regard to the colour uponthe capitals of the columns in the Hall of Isis, however, one must admitthat its destruction would be a grave loss to us, and it is to be hopedthat the capitals will be removed and replaced by dummies, or else mostcarefully copied in facsimile. 

Such is the case of Philae when looked at from a practical point ofview. Artistically and sentimentally, of course, one deeply regrets theflooding of the temple. Philae with its palms was a very charming sight, and although the island still looks very picturesque each year when theflood has receded and the ground is covered with grasses and vegetation, it will not again possess quite the magic that once caused it to beknown as the "pearl of Egypt. " But these are considerations which are tobe taken into account with very great caution as standing against theinterest of modern Egypt. If Philae were to be destroyed, one might, very properly, desire that modern interests should not receive soleconsideration; but it is not to be destroyed, or even much damaged, andconsequently the lover of Philae has but two objections to offer to theoperations now proceeding: firstly, that the temples will be hidden fromsight during a part of each year; and secondly, that water is anincongruous and unharmonious element to introduce into the sanctuariesof the gods. 

Let us consider these two objections. As to the hiding of the templeunder the water, we have to consider to what class of people theexamination of the ruins is necessary. Archæologists, officials, residents, students, and all natives, are able to visit the place in theautumn, when the island stands high and dry, and the weather is notuncomfortably hot. Every person who desires to see Philae in itsoriginal condition can arrange to make his journey to Lower Nubia in theautumn or early winter. It is only the ordinary winter tourist who willfind the ruins lost to view beneath the brown waters; and while hiswishes are certainly to be consulted to some extent, there can be noquestion that the fortunes of the Egyptian farmers must receive theprior attention. And as to the incongruity of the introduction of thewater into these sacred precincts, one may first remark that waterstands each year in the temples of Karnak, Luxor, the Ramesseum, Shenhur, Esneh, and many another, introduced by the natural rise of theNile, thus giving us a quieting familiarity with such a condition; andone may further point out that the presence of water in the buildings isnot (speaking archæologically) more discordant than that of the palmsand acacias which clustered around the ruins previous to the building ofthe dam, and gave Philae its peculiar charm. Both water and trees areout of place in a temple once swept and garnished, and it is only ahabit of thought that makes the trees which grow in such ruins morecongruous to the eye than water lapping around the pillars and takingthe fair reflections of the stonework. 

What remains, then, of the objections? Nothing, except an undefinedsense of dismay that persists in spite of all arguments. There are fewpersons who will not feel this sorrow at the flooding of Philae, whowill not groan inwardly as the water rises; and yet I cannot tooemphatically repeat that there is no real cause for this apprehensionand distress. 

A great deal of damage has been done to the prestige of the archæologistby the ill-considered outbursts of those persons who have allowed thisnatural perturbation to have full sway in their minds. The man or womanwho has protested the loudest has seldom been in a position even tooffer an opinion. Thus every temperate thinker has come to feel agreater distaste for the propaganda of those persons who would havehindered the erection of the dam than for the actual effects of itserection. Vegetarians, Anti-Vivisectionists, Militant Suffragists, Little Englanders, and the like, have taught us to beware of the signsand tokens of the unbalanced mind; and it becomes the duty of everyhealthy person to fly from the contamination of their hysteria, eventhough the principles which lie at the base of their doctrines may notbe entirely without reason. We must avoid hasty and violent judgment aswe would the plague. No honest man will deny that the closing of Philaefor half the year is anything but a very regrettable necessity; but ithas come to this pass, that a self-respecting person will be very charyin admitting that he is not mightily well satisfied with the issue ofthe whole business. 

Recently a poetic effusion has been published bewailing the "death" ofPhilae, and because the author is famous the world over for the charm ofhis writing, it has been read, and its lament has been echoed by a largenumber of persons. It is necessary to remind the reader, however, thatbecause a man is a great artist it does not follow that he has a soberjudgment. The outward appearance, and a disordered opinion on matters ofeveryday life, are often sufficient indication of this intemperance ofmind which is so grave a human failing. A man and his art, of course, are not to be confused; and perhaps it is unfair to assess the art bythe artist, but there are many persons who will understand my meaningwhen I suggest that it is extremely difficult to give serious attentionto writers or speakers of a certain class. Philae is _not_ dead. It maysafely be said that the temples will last as long as the dam itself. Letus never forget that Past and Present walk hand in hand, and, as betweenfriends, there must always be much "give and take. " How many millions ofpounds, I wonder, has been spent by the Government, from the revenuesderived from the living Egyptians, for the excavation and preservationof the records of the past? Will the dead not make, in return, thissacrifice for the benefit of the striving farmers whose money has beenused for the resuscitation of their history?

A great deal has been said regarding the destruction of the ancientinscriptions which are cut in such numbers upon the granite rocks in theregion of the First Cataract, many of which are of great historicalimportance. Vast quantities of granite have been quarried for thebuilding of the dam, and fears have been expressed that in the course ofthis work these graffiti may have been blasted into powder. It isnecessary to say, therefore, that with the exception of one inscriptionwhich was damaged when the first quarrymen set to work upon thepreliminary tests for suitable stone, not a single hieroglyph has beenharmed. The present writer numbered all the inscriptions in white paintand marked out quarrying concessions, while several watchmen were set toguard these important relics. In this work, as in all else, theDepartment of Antiquities received the most generous assistance fromthe Department concerned with the building of the dam; and I should liketo take this opportunity of saying that archæologists owe a far greaterdebt to the officials in charge of the various works at Aswan than theydo to the bulk of their own fellow-workers. The desire to save everyscrap of archæological information has been dominant in the minds of allconcerned in the work throughout the whole undertaking. 

Besides the temples of Philae there are several other ruins which willbe flooded in part by the water when the heightening of the reservoir iscompleted. On the island of Bigeh, over against Philae, there is alittle temple of no great historical value which will pass under water. The cemeteries on this island, and also on the mainland in thisneighbourhood, have been completely excavated, and have yielded mostimportant information. Farther up stream there stands the little templeof Dabôd. This has been repaired and strengthened, and will not come toany harm; while all the cemeteries in the vicinity, of course, have beencleared out. We next come to the fortress and quarries of Kertassi, which will be partly flooded. These have been put into good order, andthere need be no fear of their being damaged. The temple of Tafeh, a fewmiles farther to the south, has also been safeguarded, and all theancient graves have been excavated. 

Next comes the great temple of Kalabsheh which, in 1907, when my reportwas made, was in a sorry state. The great hall was filled with the ruinsof the fallen colonnade and its roof; the hypostyle hall was a mass oftumbled blocks over which the visitor was obliged to climb; and all thecourts and chambers were heaped up with _débris_. Now, however, all thishas been set to rights, and the temple stands once more in its glory. The water will flood the lower levels of the building each year for afew months, but there is no chance of a collapse taking place, and theonly damage which is to be anticipated is the loss of the colour uponthe reliefs in the inner chambers, and the washing away of some laterCoptic paintings, already hardly distinguishable, in the first hall. 

The temple is not very frequently visited, and it cannot be said thatits closing for each winter will be keenly felt; and since it willcertainly come to no harm under the gentle Nile, I do not see that itsfate need cause any consternation. Let those who are able visit thisfine ruin in the early months of winter, and they will be rewarded fortheir trouble by a view of a magnificent temple in what can only bedescribed as apple-pie order. I venture to think that a building of thiskind washed by the water is a more inspiring sight than a tumbled massof ruins rising from amidst an encroaching jumble of native hovels. 

Farther up the river stands the temple of Dendur. This will be partlyinundated, though the main portion of the building stands above thehighest level of the reservoir. Extensive repairs have been carried outhere, and every grave in the vicinity has been examined. The fortress ofKoshtamneh, which is made of mud-bricks, will be for the most partdestroyed; but now that a complete record of this construction has beenmade, the loss is insignificant. Somewhat farther to the south standsthe imposing temple of Dakkeh, the lower levels of which will beflooded. This temple has been most extensively patched up andstrengthened, and no damage of any kind will be caused by itsinundation. The vast cemeteries in the neighbourhood have all beenexcavated, and the remains of the town have been thoroughly examined. Still farther to the south stands the mud-brick fortress of Kubban, which, like Koshtamneh, will be partly destroyed; but the detailedexcavations and records which have here been made will prevent any lossbeing felt by archæologists. Finally, the temple of Maharraka requiresto be mentioned. This building in 1907 was a complete ruin, but it wascarefully rebuilt, and now it is quite capable of withstanding thepressure of the water. From this point to the southern end of the newreservoir there are no temples below the new flood-level; and by thetime that the water is raised every grave and other relic along theentire banks of the river will have been examined. 

To complete these works it is proposed to erect a museum at Aswanwherein the antiquities discovered in Lower Nubia should be exhibited;and a permanent collection of objects illustrating the arts, crafts, andindustries of Lower Nubia at all periods of its history, should bedisplayed. It is a question whether money will be found for theexecuting of this scheme; but there can be no doubt that a museum ofthis kind, situated at the virtual capital of Lower Nubia, would be amost valuable institution. 

In 1907 the condition of the monuments of Lower Nubia was very bad. Thetemples already mentioned were in a most deplorable state; thecemeteries were being robbed, and there was no proper organisation forthe protection of the ancient sites. There are, moreover, severaltemples above the level of high water, and these were also in a sadcondition. Gerf Husen was both dirty and dilapidated; Wady Sabua wasdeeply buried in sand; Amada was falling to pieces; Derr was thereceptacle for the refuse of the town; and even Abu Simbel itself was ina dangerous state. In my report I gave a gloomy picture indeed of theplight of the monuments. But now all this is changed. Sir Gaston Masperomade several personal visits to the country; every temple was set inorder; many new watchmen were appointed; and to-day this territory maybe said to be the "show" portion of this inspectorate. Now, it must beadmitted that the happy change is due solely to the attention to whichthe country was subjected by reason of its flooding; and it is not theless true because it is paradoxical that the proposed submersion ofcertain temples has saved all the Lower Nubian monuments from rapiddestruction at the hands of robbers, ignorant natives, and barbarousEuropean visitors. What has been lost in Philae has been gained athousand-fold in the repairing and safeguarding of the temples, and inthe scientific excavation of the cemeteries farther to the south. 

Here, then, is the sober fact of the matter. Are the English andEgyptian officials such vandals who have voted over a hundred thousandpounds for the safeguarding of the monuments of Lower Nubia? Whatcountry in the whole world has spent such vast sums of money upon thepreservation of the relics of the Past as has Egypt during the lastfive-and-twenty years? The Government has treated the questionthroughout in a fair and generous manner; and those who rail at theofficials will do well to consider seriously the remarks which I havedared to make upon the subject of temperate criticism. 

 CHAPTER XII. 

 ARCHÆOLOGY IN THE OPEN. 

In this chapter I propose to state the case in favour of thearchæologist who works abroad in the field, in contrast to him whostudies at home in the museum, in the hope that others will follow theexample of that scholar to whom this volume is dedicated, who does both. 

I have said in a previous chapter that the archæologist is generallyconsidered to be a kind of rag-and-bone man: one who, sitting all hislife in a dusty room, shuns the touch of the wind and takes no pleasurein the vanities under the sun. Actually, this is not so very often atrue description of him. The ease with which long journeys are nowundertaken, the immunity from insult or peril which the traveller nowenjoys, have made it possible for the archæologist to seek hisinformation at its source in almost all the countries of the world; andhe is not obliged, as was his grandfather, to take it at second-handfrom the volumes of mediæval scholars. Moreover, the necessarycollections of books of reference are now to be found in very diverseplaces; and thus it comes about that there are plenty of archæologistswho are able to leave their own museums and studies for limited periods. 

And as regards his supposed untidy habits, the phase of cleanlinesswhich, like a purifying wind, descended suddenly upon the world in thesecond half of the nineteenth century, has penetrated even to librariesand museums, removing every speck of dust therefrom. The archæologist, when engaged in the sedentary side of his profession, lives nowadays inan atmosphere charged with the odours of furniture-polish andmonkey-brand. A place less dusty than the Victoria and Albert Museum inSouth Kensington, or than the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, could noteasily be imagined. The disgusting antiquarian of a past generation, with his matted locks and stained clothing, could but be ill at ease insuch surroundings, and could claim no brotherhood with the majority ofthe present-day archæologists. Cobwebs are now taboo; and the misguidedold man who dwelt amongst them is seldom to be found outside ofcaricature, save in the more remote corners of the land. 

[Illustration: PL. XXVI. A relief representing Queen Tiy, from the tomb of Userhat at Thebes. This relief was stolen from the tomb, and found its way to the Brussels Museum, where it is shown in the damaged condition seen in Plate xxvii. ]

 [_Photo by H. Carter. _

The archæologist in these days, then, is not often confined permanentlyto his museum, though in many cases he remains there as much aspossible; and still less often is he a person of objectionableappearance. The science is generally represented by two classes ofscholar: the man who sits in the museum or library for the greater partof his life, and lives as though he would be worthy of thefurniture-polish, and the man who works in the field for a part of theyear and then lives as though he regarded the clean airs of heaven ineven higher estimation. Thus, in arguing the case for the field-worker, as I propose here to do, there is no longer the easy target of the dustyantiquarian at which to hurl the javelin. One cannot merely urge a mustyindividual to come out into the open air: that would make an easyargument. One has to take aim at the less vulnerable person of thescholar who chooses to spend the greater part of his time in a smartgallery of exhibits or in a well-ordered and spotless library, and whoseonly fault is that he is too fond of those places. One may no longertease him about his dusty surroundings; but I think it is possible toaccuse him of setting a very bad example by his affection for "homecomforts, " and of causing indirectly no end of mischief. It is a factthat there are many Greek scholars who are so accustomed to read theirtexts in printed books that they could not make head nor tail of anoriginal document written in a cursive Greek hand; and there are not afew students of Egyptian archæology who do not know the conditions andphenomena of the country sufficiently to prevent the occurrence ofoccasional "howlers" in the exposition of their theories. 

There are three main arguments which may be set forward to induceEgyptologists to come as often as possible to Egypt, and to urge theirstudents to do so, instead of educating the mind to the habit of workingat home. 

Firstly, the study of archæology in the open helps to train the youngmen in the path of health in which they should go. Work in the Egyptiandesert, for example, is one of the most healthy and inspiring pursuitsthat could be imagined; and study in the shrines overlooking the Nile, where, as at Gebel Silsileh, one has to dive into the cool river andswim to the sun-scorched scene of one's work, is surely moreinvigorating than study in the atmosphere of the British Museum. Agallop up to the Tombs of the Kings puts a man in a readier mood for amorning's work than does a drive in an omnibus along Tottenham CourtRoad; and he will feel a keenness as he pulls out his note-book that hecan never have experienced in his western city. There is, moreover, acertain amount of what is called "roughing it" to be endured by thearchæologist in Egypt; and thus the body becomes toughened and preparedfor any necessary spurt of work. To rough it in the open is the bestmedicine for tired heads, as it is the finest tonic for brains in anormal condition. 

In parenthesis an explanation must be given of what is meant here bythat much misunderstood condition of life which is generally known as"roughing it. " A man who is accustomed to the services of two valetswill believe that he is roughing it when he is left to put the diamondstuds in his evening shirts with his own fingers; and a man who hastramped the roads all his life will hardly consider that he is roughingit when he is outlawed upon the unsheltered moors in late autumn. Thedegree of hardship to which I refer lies between these two extremes. Thescience of Egyptology does not demand from its devotees a performance ofmany extreme acts of discomfort; but, during the progress of activework, it does not afford many opportunities for luxuriousself-indulgence, or for any slackness in the taking of exercise. 

As a protest against the dilettante antiquarian (who is often asobjectionable a character as the unwashed scholar) there are certainarchæologists who wear the modern equivalent of a hair shirt, who walkabroad with pebbles in their shoes, and who speak of the sitting upon aneasy-chair as a moral set-back. The strained and posed life which suchsavants lead is not to be regarded as a rough one; for there is constantluxury in the thought of their own toughness, and infinite comfort inthe sense of superiority which they permit themselves to feel. It is notroughing it to feed from a bare board when a tablecloth addsinsignificantly to the impedimenta of the camp: it is pretending torough it. It is not roughing it to eat tinned food out of the tin when aplate costs a penny or two: it is either hypocrisy or slovenliness. 

To rough it is to lead an exposed life under conditions which precludethe possibility of indulging in certain comforts which, in their placeand at the right time, are enjoyed and appreciated. A man may well besaid to rough it when he camps in the open, and dispenses with theluxuries of civilisation; when he pours a jug of water over himselfinstead of lying in ecstasy in an enamelled bath; eats a meal of twoundefined courses instead of one of five or six; twangs a banjo to themoon instead of ravishing his ear with a sonata upon the grand piano;rolls himself in a blanket instead of sitting over the library fire;turns in at 9 P. M. And rises ere the sun has topped the hills instead ofkeeping late hours and lying abed; sleeps on the ground or upon a narrowcamp-bed (which occasionally collapses) instead of sprawling at his easein a four-poster. 

A life of this kind cannot fail to be of benefit to the health; and, after all, the work of a healthy man is likely to be of greater valuethan that of one who is anæmic or out of condition. It is the first dutyof a scholar to give attention to his muscles, for he, more than othermen, has the opportunity to become enfeebled by indoor work. Fewstudents can give sufficient time to physical exercise; but in Egypt theexercise is taken during the course of the work, and not an hour iswasted. The muscles harden and the health is ensured without theexpending of a moment's thought upon the subject. 

Archæology is too often considered to be the pursuit of weak-chestedyouths and eccentric old men: it is seldom regarded as a possiblevocation for normal persons of sound health and balanced mind. Anathletic and robust young man, clothed in the ordinary costume of agentleman, will tell a new acquaintance that he is an Egyptologist, whereupon the latter will exclaim in surprise: "Not really?--you don'tlook like one. " A kind of mystery surrounds the science. The laymansupposes the antiquarian to be a very profound and erudite person, whohas pored over his books since a baby, and has shunned those games andsports which generally make for a healthy constitution. The study ofEgyptology is thought to require a depth of knowledge that places itsstudents outside the limits of normal learning, and presupposes in theman unhealthy amount of schooling. This, of course, is absurd. 

Nobody would expect an engineer who built bridges and dams, or a greatmilitary commander, to be a seedy individual with longish hair, paleface, and weak eyesight; and yet probably he has twice the braincapacity of the average archæologist. It is because the life of theantiquarian is, or is generally thought to be, unhealthy and sluggishthat he is so universally regarded as a worm. 

Some attempt should be made to rid the science of this forbiddingaspect; and for this end students ought to do their best to make itpossible for them to be regarded as ordinary, normal, healthy men. Letthem discourage the popular belief that they are prodigies, freaks ofmental expansion. Let their first desire be to show themselves good, useful, hardy, serviceable citizens or subjects, and they will do muchto remove the stigma from their profession. Let them be acquainted withthe feeling of a bat or racket in the hands, or a saddle between theknees; let them know the rough path over the mountains, or thediving-pool amongst the rocks, and their mentality will not be found tosuffer. A winter's "roughing it" in the Theban necropolis or elsewherewould do much to banish the desire for perpetual residence at home inthe west; and a season in Egypt would alter the point of view of thestudent more considerably than he could imagine. Moreover, theappearance of the scholar prancing about upon his fiery steed (eventhough it be but an Egyptian donkey) will help to dispel the currentbelief that he is incapable of physical exertion; and his reddened facerising, like the morning sun, above the rocks on some steep pathway overthe Theban hills will give the passer-by cause to alter his opinion ofthose who profess and call themselves Egyptologists. 

As a second argument a subject must be introduced which will bedistasteful to a large number of archæologists. I refer to thenarrow-minded policy of the curators of certain European and Americanmuseums, whose desire it is at all costs to place Egyptian and othereastern antiquities actually before the eyes of western students, inorder that they and the public may have the entertainment of examiningat home the wonders of lands which they make no effort to visit. I haveno hesitation in saying that the craze for recklessly bringing awayunique antiquities from Egypt to be exhibited in western museums for thesatisfaction of the untravelled man, is the most pernicious bit of follyto be found in the whole broad realm of archæological misbehaviour. 

A museum has three main justifications for its existence. In the firstplace, like a home for lost dogs, it is a repository for stray objects. No curator should endeavour to procure for his museum any antiquitywhich could be safely exhibited on its original site* and in its originalposition. He should receive only those stray objects which otherwisewould be lost to sight, or those which would be in danger ofdestruction. The curator of a picture gallery is perfectly justified inpurchasing any old master which is legitimately on sale; but he is notjustified in obtaining a painting direct from the walls of a churchwhere it has hung for centuries, and where it should still hang. In thesame way a curator of a museum of antiquities should make it his firstendeavour not so much to obtain objects direct from Egypt as to gatherin those antiquities which are in the possession of private persons whocannot be expected to look after them with due care. 

 *Transcriber's note: Original text read "sight". 

In the second place, a museum is a store-house for historical documentssuch as papyri and ostraca, and in this respect it is simply to beregarded as a kind of public library, capable of unlimited and perfectlylegitimate expansion. Such objects are not often found by robbers in thetombs which they have violated, nor are they snatched from temples towhich they belong. They are almost always found accidentally, and in amanner which precludes any possibility of their actual position havingmuch significance. The immediate purchase, for example, by museum agentsof the Tell el Amarna tablets--the correspondence of a greatPharaoh--which had been discovered by accident, and would perhaps havebeen destroyed, was most wise. 

In the third place, a museum is a permanent exhibition for theinstruction of the public, and for the enlightenment of studentsdesirous of obtaining comparative knowledge in any one branch of theirwork, and for this purpose it should be well supplied not so much withoriginal antiquities as with casts, facsimiles, models, andreproductions of all sorts. 

To be a serviceable exhibition both for the student and the public amuseum does not need to possess only original antiquities. On thecontrary, as a repository for stray objects, a museum is not to beexpected to have a complete series of original antiquities in anyclass, nor is it the business of the curator to attempt to fill up thegaps by purchase, except in special cases. To do so is to encourage thestraying of other objects. The curator so often labours under thedelusion that it is his first business to collect together as large anumber as possible of valuable masterpieces. In reality that is a verysecondary matter. His first business, if he is an Egyptologist, is tosee that Egyptian masterpieces remain in Egypt so far as is practicable;and his next is to save what has irrevocably strayed from strayingfurther. If the result of this policy is a poor collection, then he mustdevote so much the more time and money to obtaining facsimiles andreproductions. The keeper of a home for lost dogs does not search thecity for a collie with red spots to complete his series of collies, orfor a peculiarly elongated dachshund to head his procession of thoseanimals. The fewer dogs he has got the better he is pleased, since thisis an indication that a larger number are in safe keeping in theirhomes. The home of Egyptian antiquities is Egypt, a fact which willbecome more and more realised as travelling is facilitated. 

But the curator generally has the insatiable appetite of the collector. The authorities of one museum bid vigorously against those of another atthe auction which constantly goes on in the shops of the dealers inantiquities. They pay huge prices for original statues, vases, orsarcophagi: prices which would procure for them the finest series ofcasts or facsimiles, or would give them valuable additions to theirlegitimate collection of papyri. And what is it all for? It is not forthe benefit of the general public, who could not tell the differencebetween a genuine antiquity and a forgery or reproduction, and who wouldbe perfectly satisfied with the ordinary, miscellaneous collection ofminor antiquities. It is not for that class of Egyptologist whichendeavours to study Egyptian antiquities in Egypt. It is almost solelyfor the benefit of the student and scholar who cannot, or will not, goto Egypt. Soon it comes to be the curator's pride to observe thatsavants are hastening to his museum to make their studies. His civicconceit is tickled by the spectacle of Egyptologists travelling longdistances to take notes in his metropolitan museum. He delights to beable to say that the student can study Egyptology in his well-orderedgalleries as easily as he can in Egypt itself. 

All this is as wrong-headed as it can be. While he is filling his museumhe does not seem to understand that he is denuding every necropolis inEgypt. I will give one or two instances of the destruction wrought bywestern museums. I them at random from my memory. 

In the year 1900 the then Inspector-General of Antiquities in UpperEgypt discovered a tomb at Thebes in which there was a beautiful reliefsculptured on one of the walls, representing Queen Tiy. This hephotographed (Plate XXVI. ), and the tomb was once more buried. In 1908 Ichanced upon this monument, and proposed to open it up as a "show place"for visitors; but alas!--the relief of the queen had disappeared, andonly a gaping hole in the wall remained. It appears that robbers hadentered the tomb at about the time of the change of inspectors; and, realising that this relief would make a valuable exhibit for somewestern museum, they had cut out of the wall as much as they couldconveniently carry away--namely, the head and upper part of the figureof Tiy. The hieroglyphic inscription which was sculptured near the headwas carefully erased, in case it should contain some reference to thename of the tomb from which they were taking the fragment; and over theface some false inscriptions were scribbled in Greek characters, so asto give the stone an unrecognisable appearance. In this condition it wasconveyed to a dealer's shop, and it now forms one of the exhibits in theRoyal Museum at Brussels. The photograph on Plate XXVII. Shows thefragment as it appears after being cleaned. 

[Illustration: PL. XXVII. A Relief representing Queen Tiy, from the tomb of Userhat, Thebes. --BRUSSELS MUSEUM. (See PL. Xxvi. )]

 [_Photo by T. Capart. _

In the same museum, and in others also, there are fragments of beautifulsculpture hacked out of the walls of the famous tomb of Khaemhat atThebes. In the British Museum there are large pieces of wall-paintingsbroken out of Theban tombs. The famous inscription in the tomb of Anenaat Thebes, which was one of the most important texts of the earlyXVIIIth Dynasty, was smashed to pieces several years ago to be sold insmall sections to museums; and the scholar to whom this volume isdedicated was instrumental in purchasing back for us eleven of thefragments, which have now been replaced in the tomb, and, with certainfragments in Europe, form the sole remnant of the once imposing stela. One of the most important scenes out of the famous reliefs of theExpedition to Pount, at Dêr el Bahri, found its way into the hands ofthe dealers, and was ultimately purchased by our museum in Cairo. Thebeautiful and important reliefs which decorated the tomb of Horemheb atSakkâra, hacked out of the walls by robbers, are now exhibited in sixdifferent museums: London, Leyden, Vienna, Bologna, Alexandria, andCairo. Of the two hundred tombs of the nobles now to be seen at Thebes, I cannot, at the moment, recall a single one which has not suffered inthis manner at some time previous to the organisation of the presentstrict supervision. 

The curators of western museums will argue that had they not purchasedthese fragments they would have fallen into the hands of less desirableowners. This is quite true, and, indeed, it forms the nearest approachto justification that can be discovered. Nevertheless, it has to beremembered that this purchasing of antiquities is the best stimulus tothe robber, who is well aware that a market is always to be found forhis stolen goods. It may seem difficult to censure the purchaser, forcertainly the fragments were "stray" when the bargain was struck, and itis the business of the curator to collect stray antiquities. But whywere they stray? Why were they ever cut from the walls of the Egyptianmonuments? Assuredly because the robbers knew that museums wouldpurchase them. If there had been no demand there would have been nosupply. 

To ask the curators to change their policy, and to purchase only thoseobjects which are legitimately on sale, would, of course, be as futileas to ask the nations to disarm. The rivalry between museum and museumwould alone prevent a cessation of this indiscriminate traffic. I cansee only one way in which a more sane and moral attitude can beintroduced, and that is by the development of the habit of visitingEgypt and of working upon archæological subjects in the shadow of theactual monuments. Only the person who is familiar with Egypt can knowthe cost of supplying the stay-at-home scholar with exhibits for hismuseums. Only one who has resided in Egypt can understand the fact thatEgypt itself is the true museum for Egyptian antiquities. He alone canappreciate the work of the Egyptian Government in preserving the remainsof ancient days. 

The resident in Egypt, interested in archæology, comes to look with akind of horror upon museums, and to feel extraordinary hostility to whatmay be called the museum spirit. He sees with his own eyes thehalf-destroyed tombs, which to the museum curator are things far off andnot visualised. While the curator is blandly saying to his visitor:"See, I will now show you a beautiful fragment of sculpture from adistant and little-known Theban tomb, " the white resident in Egypt, withblack murder in his heart, is saying: "See, I will show you a beautifultomb of which the best part of one wall is utterly destroyed that afragment might be hacked out for a distant and little-known Europeanmuseum. "

To a resident in Europe, Egypt seems to be a strange and barbaric land, far, far away beyond the hills and seas; and her monuments are thoughtto be at the mercy of wild Bedwin Arabs. In the less recent travel booksthere is not a published drawing of a temple in the Nile valley but hasits complement of Arab figures grouped in picturesque attitudes. Here afire is being lit at the base of a column, and the black smoke curlsupwards to destroy the paintings thereon; here a group of children sportupon the lap of a colossal statue; and here an Arab tethers his camel atthe steps of the high altar. It is felt, thus, that the objectsexhibited in European museums have been _rescued_ from Egypt andrecovered from a distant land. This is not so. They have been snatchedfrom Egypt and lost to the country of their origin. 

He who is well acquainted with Egypt knows that hundreds of watchmen, and a small army of inspectors, engineers, draughtsmen, surveyors, andother officials now guard these monuments, that strong iron gates barthe doorways against unauthorised visitors, that hourly patrols passfrom monument to monument, and that any damage done is punished by longterms of imprisonment; he knows that the Egyptian Government spendshundreds of thousands of pounds upon safeguarding the ancient remains;he is aware that the organisation of the Department of Antiquities is anextremely important branch of the Ministry of Public Works. He has seenthe temples swept and garnished, the tombs lit with electric light, andthe sanctuaries carefully rebuilt. He has spun out to the Pyramids inthe electric tram or in a taxi-cab; has strolled in evening dress andopera hat through the halls of Karnak, after dinner at the hotel; andhas rung up the Theban Necropolis on the telephone. 

A few seasons' residence in Egypt shifts the point of view in astartling manner. No longer is the country either distant or insecure;and, realising this, the student becomes more balanced, and he sees bothsides of the question with equal clearness. The archæologist maycomplain that it is too expensive a matter to come to Egypt. But why, then, are not the expenses of such a journey met by the various museums?A hundred pounds will pay for a student's winter in Egypt and hisjourney to and from that country. Such a sum is given readily enoughfor the purchase of an antiquity; but surely rightly-minded students area better investment than wrongly-acquired antiquities. 

It must now be pointed out, as a third argument, that an Egyptologistcannot study his subject properly unless he be thoroughly familiar withEgypt and the modern Egyptians. 

A student who is accustomed to sit at home, working in his library ormuseum, and who has never resided in Egypt, or has but travelled for ashort time in that country, may do extremely useful work in one way andanother, but that work will not be faultless. It will be, as it were, lop-sided; it will be coloured with hues of the west, unknown to theland of the Pharaohs and antithetical thereto. A London architect maydesign an apparently charming villa for a client in Jerusalem, butunless he knows by actual and prolonged experience the exigencies of theclimate of Palestine, he will be liable to make a sad mess of his job. By bitter experience the military commanders learnt in South Africa thata plan of campaign prepared in England was of little use to them. Thecricketer may play a very good game upon the home ground, but upon aforeign pitch the first straight ball will send his bails flying intothe clear blue sky. 

An archæologist who attempts to record the material relating to themanners and customs of the ancient Egyptians cannot complete his task, or even assure himself of the accuracy of his statements, unless he hasstudied the modern customs and has made himself acquainted with thepermanent conditions of the country. The modern Egyptians, as has beenpointed out in chapter ii. (page 28), are the same people as those whobowed the knee to Pharaoh, and many of their customs still survive. Astudent can no more hope to understand the story of Pharaonic timeswithout an acquaintance with Egypt as she now is than a modern statesmancan hope to understand his own times solely from a study of the past. 

Nothing is more paralysing to a student of archæology than continuousbook-work. A collection of hard facts is an extremely beneficial mentalexercise, but the deductions drawn from such a collection should beregarded as an integral part of the work. The road-maker must also walkupon his road to the land whither it leads him; the shipbuilder mustride the seas in his vessel, though they be uncharted and unfathomed. Too often the professor will set his students to a compilation whichleads them no farther than the final fair copy. They will be asked tomake for him, with infinite labour, a list of the High Priests of Amon;but unless he has encouraged them to put such life into those figuresthat each one seems to step from the page to confront his recorder, unless the name of each calls to mind the very scenes amidst which heworshipped, then is the work uninspired and as deadening to the studentas it is useful to the professor. A catalogue of ancient scarabs isrequired, let us suppose, and students are set to work upon it. Theyexamine hundreds of specimens, they record the variations in design, they note the differences in the glaze or material. But can they picturethe man who wore the scarab?--can they reconstruct in their minds thescene in the workshop wherein the scarab was made?--can they hear thesong of the workmen or their laughter when the overseer was not nigh? Ina word, does the scarab mean history to them, the history of a period, of a dynasty, of a craft? Assuredly not, unless the students know Egyptand the Egyptians, have heard their songs and their laughter, havewatched their modern arts and crafts. Only then are they in a positionto reconstruct the picture. 

Theodore Roosevelt, in his Romanes lecture at Oxford, gave it as hisopinion that the industrious collector of facts occupied an honourablebut not an exalted position; and he added that the merely scientifichistorian must rest content with the honour, substantial, but not of thehighest type, that belongs to him who gathers material which some timesome master shall arise to use. Now every student should aim to be amaster, to _use_ the material which he has so laboriously collected; andthough at the beginning of his career, and indeed throughout his life, the gathering of material is a most important part of his work, heshould never compile solely for the sake of compilation, unless he becontent to serve simply as a clerk of archæology. 

An archæologist must be an historian. He must conjure up the past; hemust play the Witch of Endor. His lists and indices, his catalogues andnote-books, must be but the spells which he uses to invoke the dead. Thespells have no potency until they are pronounced: the lists of the kingsof Egypt have no more than an accidental value until they call beforethe curtain of the mind those monarchs themselves. It is the business ofthe archæologist to awake the dreaming dead: not to send the living tosleep. It is his business to make the stones tell their tale: not topetrify the listener. It is his business to put motion and commotioninto the past that the present may see and hear: not to pin it down, spatchcocked, like a dead thing. In a word, the archæologist must be incommand of that faculty which is known as the historic imagination, without which Dean Stanley was of opinion that the story of the pastcould not be told. 

But how can that imagination be at once exerted and controlled, as itmust needs be, unless the archæologist is so well acquainted with theconditions of the country about which he writes that his pictures of itcan be said to be accurate? The student must allow himself to besaturated by the very waters of the Nile before he can permit himselfto write of Egypt. He must know the modern Egyptians before he canconstruct his model of Pharaoh and his court. 

In a recent London play dealing with ancient Egypt, the actor-managerexerted his historic imagination, in one scene, in so far as tointroduce a _shadoof_ or water-hoist, which was worked as a naturalisticside-action to the main incident. But, unfortunately, it was displayedupon a hillside where no water could ever have reached it; and thus theaudience, all unconsciously, was confronted with the remarkablespectacle of a husbandman applying himself diligently to the task ofladelling thin air on to crops that grew upon barren sand. If only hisimagination had been controlled by a knowledge of Egypt, the picturemight have been both true and effective. 

When the mummy of Akhnaton was discovered and was proved to be that of aman of twenty-eight years of age, many persons doubted theidentification on the grounds that the king was known to have beenmarried at the time when he came to the throne, seventeen years beforehis death, [1] and it was freely stated that a marriage at the age of tenor eleven was impossible and out of the question. Thus it actuallyremained for the writer to point out that the fact of the king's deathoccurring seventeen years after his marriage practically fixed his ageat his decease at not much above twenty-eight years, so unlikely was itthat his marriage would have been delayed beyond his eleventh year. Those who doubted the identification on such grounds were showing alltoo clearly that the manners and customs of the Egyptians of thenineteenth and twentieth centuries, so many of which have come downintact from olden times, were unknown to them. 

 [Footnote 1: Weigall: Life of Akhnaton, p. 56. ]

Here we come to the root of the trouble. The Egyptologist who has notresided for some time in Egypt is inclined to allow his ideas regardingthe ancient customs of the land to be influenced by hisunconsciously-acquired knowledge of the habits of the west. Men do notmarry before the age of eighteen or twenty in Europe: therefore they didnot do so in Egypt. There are streams of water upon the mountains inEurope: therefore water may be hoisted upon the hillsides in Egypt. Butis he blind that he sees not the great gulf fixed between the ways ofthe east and those of his accustomed west? It is of no value to scienceto record the life of Thutmosis III. With Napoleon as our model for it, nor to describe the daily life of the Pharaoh with the person of anEnglish king before our mind's eye. Our European experience will notgive us material for the imagination to work upon in dealing with Egypt. The setting for our Pharaonic pictures must be derived from Egypt alone;and no Egyptologist's work that is more than a simple compilation is ofvalue unless the sunlight and the sandy glare of Egypt have burnt intohis eyes, and have been reflected on to the pages under his pen. 

The archæologist must possess the historic imagination, but it must beconfined to its proper channels. It is impossible to exert thisimagination without, as a consequence, a figure rising up before themind partially furnished with the details of a personality and fullyendowed with the broad character of an individual. The first lesson, thus, which we must learn is that of allowing no incongruity to appearin our figures. A king whose name has survived to us upon some monumentbecomes at once such a reality that the legends concerning him are aptto be accepted as so much fact. Like John Donne once* says--

 "Thou art so true, that thoughts of thee suffice To make dreams truth, and fables histories. "

 *Transcriber's note: Original text read "one". 

But only he who has resided in Egypt can judge how far the fables are tobe regarded as having a nucleus of truth. In ancient history there canseldom be sufficient data at the Egyptologist's disposal with which tobuild up a complete figure; and his puppets must come upon the stagesadly deficient, as it were, in arms, legs, and apparel suitable tothem, unless he knows from an experience of modern Egyptians how torestore them and to clothe them in good taste. The substance upon whichthe imagination works must be no less than a collective knowledge of thepeople of the nation in question. Rameses must be constructed from anacquaintance with many a Pasha of modern Egypt, and his Chief Butlermust reflect the known characteristics of a hundred Beys and Effendis. Without such "padding" the figures will remain but names, and with namesEgyptology is already overstocked. 

It is remarkable to notice how little is known regarding the greatpersonalities in history. Taking three characters at random: we knowextremely little that is authentic regarding King Arthur; our knowledgeof the actual history of Robin Hood is extremely meagre; and the precisehistorian would have to dismiss Cleopatra in a few paragraphs. But letthe archæologist know so well the manners and customs of the period withwhich he is dealing that he will not, like the author of the stories ofthe Holy Grail, dress Arthur in the armour of the thirteenth century, nor fill the mind of Cleopatra with the thoughts of the Elizabethanpoet; let him be so well trained in scientific cautiousness that he willnot give unquestioned credence to the legends of the past; let him havesufficient knowledge of the nation to which his hero or heroine belongedto be able to fill up the lacunæ with a kind of collective appreciationand estimate of the national characteristics, --and I do not doubt thathis interpretations will hold good till the end of all history. 

The student to whom Egypt is not a living reality is handicapped in hislabours more unfairly than is realised by him. Avoid Egypt, and thoughyour brains be of vast capacity, though your eyes be never raised fromyour books, you will yet remain in many ways an ignoramus, liable to becorrected by the merest tourist in the Nile valley. But come with me toa Theban garden that I know, where, on some still evening, the darkpalms are reflected in the placid Nile, and the acacias are mellowed bythe last light of the sunset; where, in leafy bowers, the grapes clusteroverhead, and the fig-tree is burdened with fruit. Beyond the broadsheet of the river rise those unchangeable hills which encompass theValley of the Tombs of the Kings; and at their foot, dimly seen in theevening haze, sit the twin colossi, as they have sat since the days ofAmenhotep the Magnificent. The stars begin to be seen through the leavesnow that the daylight dies, and presently the Milky Way becomesapparent, stretching across the vault of the night, as when it wasbelieved to be the Nile of the Heavens. 

The owls hoot to one another through the garden; and at the edge of thealabaster tank wherein the dusk is mirrored, a frog croaks unseen amidstthe lilies. Even so croaked he on this very ground in those days when, typifying eternity, he seemed to utter the endless refrain, "I am theresurrection, I am the resurrection, " into the ears of men and maidensbeneath these self-same stars. 

And now a boat floats past, on its way to Karnak, silhouetted againstthe last-left light of the sky. There is music and song on board. Thesound of the pipes is carried over the water and pulses to the ears, inflaming the imagination with the sorcery of its cadences and stirringthe blood by its bold rhythm. The gentle breeze brings the scent of manyflowers to the nostrils, and with these come drifting thoughts andundefined fancies, so that presently the busy considerations of the dayare lulled and forgotten. The twilight seems to cloak the extent of theyears, and in the gathering darkness the procession of the centuries ishidden. Yesterday and to-day are mingled together, and there is nothingto distinguish to the eye the one age from the other. An immortal, brought suddenly to the garden at this hour, could not say from directobservation whether he had descended from the clouds into the twentiethcentury before or the twentieth century after Christ; and the sound ofthe festal pipes in the passing boat would but serve to confuse him themore. 

In such a garden as this the student will learn more Egyptology than hecould assimilate in many an hour's study at home; for here his fivesenses play the student and Egypt herself is his teacher. While he mayread in his books how this Pharaoh or that feasted o' nights in hispalace beside the river, here, not in fallible imagination but in actualfact, he may see Nilus and the Libyan desert to which the royal eyeswere turned, may smell the very perfume of the palace garden, and mayhearken to the self-same sounds that lulled a king to sleep inHundred-gated Thebes. 

Not in the west, but only by the waters of the Nile will he learn howbest to be an historian of ancient Egypt, and in what manner to make hisstudies of interest, as well as of technical value, to his readers, forhe will here discover the great secret of his profession. Suddenly theveil will be lifted from his understanding, and he will become awarethat Past and Present are so indissoluble as to be incapable of separateinterpretation or single study. He will learn that there is no suchthing as a distinct Past or a defined Present. "Yesterday this day'smadness did prepare, " and the affairs of bygone times must beinterpreted in the light of recent events. The Past is alive to-day, andall the deeds of man in all the ages are living at this hour inoffspring. There is no real death. The earthly grave will not hide, northe mountain tomb imprison, the actions of the men of old Egypt, soconsequent and fruitful are all human affairs. This is the knowledgewhich will make his work of lasting value; and nowhere save in Egypt canhe acquire it. This, indeed, is the secret of the Sphinx; and only atthe lips of the Sphinx itself can he learn it. 

 PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.