Vincent Brooks-Day & Son, Lith.

TAI-TI, QUEEN OF AMENHOTEP III.

THE PHARAOHS AND
THEIR PEOPLE

SCENES OF OLD EGYPTIAN LIFE AND HISTORY

BY
E. BERKLEY

AUTHOR OF ‘A HISTORY OF ROME,’ ETC. ETC.

With Numerous Illustrations

SEELEY, JACKSON & HALLIDAY,
FLEET STREET LONDON, MDCCCLXXXIV

PREFACE.

The growing interest that is felt in all that concerns Egypt and its past has led me to hope that there may be many who will be glad of a book containing, in a concise and easily accessible form, the chief results of modern research and discovery in the valley of the Nile.

The Manuscript of this work was submitted to Dr. Lushington, formerly Professor of Greek at Glasgow University, and he has very kindly permitted the publication of the following opinion:—

‘It appears to me very carefully and accurately written, with diligent consultation of the most trustworthy sources. The illustrative quotations interspersed seem well calculated to inspire and maintain interest in the reader as well as the descriptive sketches.

The subject well deserves, and is already beginning to command, more general interest than a few years ago it would have been possible to anticipate.’

The translations I have given are selected and freely rendered from those that have appeared in Records of the Past, after comparison with any others that were available. I am also much indebted throughout to Dr. Brugsch’s valuable History of Egypt; and I wish especially to mention my obligation to Mr. Villiers Stuart’s Nile Gleanings, with its many interesting illustrations and accompanying descriptions—more particularly those relating to the tombs of the third and fourth dynasties, to the curious episode of Khu-en-aten’s reign, and to the stirring times of Rameses the Great.

My obligations to other authors are acknowledged in the respective places.

The hieroglyphs above the Table of Contents read, em rek suteniu tepau, i.e. ‘in the time of former kings,’ and the cartouche at the end of the line is that of ‘Pharaoh,’ to be read Per-aa, i.e. ‘the Great House.’ The hawk is symbolic of divine protection, and the seal it holds is the emblem of renewed and endless life.

E. BERKLEY.

CONTENTS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

ANCIENT EGYPT.

THE PHARAOHS AND
THEIR PEOPLE.

[CHAPTER I.]

Reign of the gods—Osiris, Isis, and Horus Myth—Ancient cities and early kings.

The first royal name that meets us on the monuments of Egypt, which was inscribed there during the lifetime of the king who bore it, is that of Senefru (predecessor of Khufu who built the Great Pyramid), and belongs to a remote antiquity.[1] And yet we must look back through the dimness of many more centuries still before we come to the name of Mena, first King of Egypt—a name that seems to twinkle faintly from beyond the abyss of long past ages like a far-off star on the horizon from beyond the wide waste of waters.

Mena, founder of Memphis, and his successors, we know, at least, by name; but of the ‘old time before them’ the traditions of Egypt only said that the gods governed the land. According to one ancient record, Ptah, the ‘Hidden Being,’ the ‘Former of all,’ ruled in the beginning; Ra, the bright Sun-god, Seb, the ancient Earth-god, followed; and later still Osiris reigned, the ‘Good Being’ and ‘Lord of life.’ After having conferred manifold blessings and benefits on the land, he was slain by his brother and rival Set. Set concealed the body, but Isis, the ‘great divine Mother,’ sister and wife of Osiris, sought after it. An ancient hymn says, ‘No word of hers fails; good is she, and kind in will and speech. It is Isis, the exalted one, the avenger of her brother: she went up and down the world lamenting him.’

Vincent Brooks-Day & Son, Lith.

WINGED FIGURE, ISIS OR NEPHTHYS.

The Lamentations of Isis was one of the most revered of the sacred writings:—‘My heart is full of bitterness for thee,’ she cries; ‘how long will it be ere I see thee whom to behold is bliss! Come to her that loveth thee—none hath loved thee more than I.... Heaven and earth are mourning after thee. O mighty one, our lord,[2] speak, and dispel the anguish of our souls! To behold thy face is life, and the joy of our spirits is to gaze on thee!’

Nevertheless in bodily form Osiris appeared not on earth again; but Isis ceased not from her search until she had found the remains, all torn and mangled as they were by the malice of Set. ‘She made light with her feathers,’ says the old hymn, ‘and wind with her wings; at his burial she poured forth her prayers.’

‘She gave birth to a child; secretly and alone she nursed the infant—no man knows where that was done.

‘Now has the arm of that child become strong within the ancient dwelling of Seb.’[3]

The child of Isis, the beautiful and radiant Horus, was the avenger of Osiris; he cast down the terrible Set, and destroyed his power; then, on appearing resplendent from his triumph, he was hailed with acclamation by gods and men, and reigned over the land, Osiris, new-born—the Morning Sun which, having conquered night and darkness, ascends the sky and rules from heaven; the Sun of to-day, which, if another, is yet the same as that which sank down yesterday into the bosom of the night.

Isis suckling Horus.—From a statuette in the British Museum.

The reign of Horus was welcomed with rapture and with song. ‘He receives the title of his father and rules the world; he governs both the men of Egypt and the northern barbarians. Every one glorifies his goodness; mild is his love towards us; his tenderness embraceth every heart; great is his love in all our bosoms. His foe falls under his fury; the end of the evil-doer is at hand. The son of Isis, the avenger of his father, appears. The worlds are at rest; evil flies, and earth brings forth abundantly, and is at peace beneath her lord.’

But Osiris was not dead. In the unseen world he lived anew, and there he ruled in righteousness, as Horus ruled on earth. Osiris, the divine being who had died, was judge of the dead. Before him each departed spirit must appear in the judgment-hall of Truth. There the heart is weighed and the life is judged unerringly. He who passes that ordeal becomes himself Osiris, and is henceforth called by his name. The new Osiris lives again, and passes victoriously through every peril, until he is at length admitted amongst the bright and blessed spirits who accompany Ra for ever, and who ‘live, as he liveth, in Truth.’

Horus was the last of the divine race of kings. After him, some traditions said that dynasties of demigods and of manes ruled before King Mena ascended the throne, but the name by which the Egyptians always distinguished the inhabitants of the land in prehistoric times was Horshesu—followers of Horus.

There were certain cities also in Egypt whose foundation was assigned to those prehistoric times. The twin cities Thinis-Abydos were, so far as we know, the most ancient in the land. Thinis was the cradle of the Egyptian monarchy: the first Egyptian dynasties were Thinite, and Mena went from thence to found his new capital. But Abydos was revered as the burial-place and shrine of Osiris himself, and many devout Egyptians in following ages directed their own tombs to be prepared and their bodies laid in this consecrated spot.

The origin of Pa-Ra,[4] the City of the Sun, is also lost in remote antiquity. It stood not far from Memphis, and is better known to us by the name of On. It was the centre of the worship of Ra, as Abydos was of the worship of Osiris, but there was no jealousy or rivalry between the two. They were, in fact, essentially one, and the same individual might be priest or priestess of both sanctuaries.

On was famous from time immemorial as a seat of learning, and its priesthood was held in high repute. The city itself was of small dimensions. ‘The walls may yet be traced,’ says Mr. Reginald Stuart Poole, ‘enclosing an irregular square of about half a mile in the measure of each of its sides.’ And of this limited space the great temple of Ra must have occupied about half. The population, one would think, must have been mainly composed of scholars, as the priests’ dwellings would be within the temple precincts. Hither came the young men of Egypt—who shall say how many thousand years ago!—to learn all that the priests could teach at this, the most ancient university of the world. Nor were the priests, who carefully cultivated and taught the various branches of learning, by any means an exclusive caste. They had family ties, mixed in social life, and could hold other than priestly dignities. A royal prince was often priest of a temple, and a priest might be a warrior, an architect, or a court official. So far as we can gather, the teaching at an Egyptian university would comprise a knowledge of the sacred books, besides general teaching in morality. The study of the language itself must have been a somewhat arduous undertaking even for a native-born Egyptian, and to write the hieroglyphic characters, required considerable skill, and even art.[5] Many branches of science must have been pursued—medicine, law, geometry, astronomy, and chemistry, whilst in mechanics a quite marvellous proficiency was attained. Music too was highly prized and carefully taught, and it is not unlikely that architects and sculptors also received their training in these schools.

Long ages afterwards, when Greek and Roman travellers visited Egypt, and sought to learn her wisdom, they heard an ancient tale concerning the mysterious Phœnix, that came once in five hundred years from the far-off land of spices and perfume to the sacred City of the Sun, where he constructed for himself a funeral pile and perished in the flames, but only to rise again in renewed life and splendour; then, spreading his radiant wings, he took his flight to the distant land from whence he came. What special truth this allegory veiled in the minds of those who told it we can only guess; at the same time it may serve us well as a type of the old ‘wisdom’ itself,[6] which did not perish with its primeval seat, but sprang into renewed and glorious existence in what, to us, is ‘ancient’ Greece—then, lost again when Greece was lost, revived once more in our latter days.

But Pa-Ra had a special claim to the veneration of the Egyptians as the birthplace of their sacred literature. Here were written, or, as the priests called it, ‘found,’ the original chapters of the most sacred of the sacred writings, the ‘Book of the coming forth into the Day,’[7] which tells of the conflicts and triumphs of the life after death.

To secure that triumph, a knowledge of the holy book was required. Portions of it are found written on coffin lids and on the walls of tombs; every Egyptian desired to have it buried with him, and whilst the rich would often have an entire copy laid in his tomb, the poor man coveted at least a fragment.

Memphis was founded by the first King of Egypt, but Abydos and On were linked by tradition to the gods.

One beautiful obelisk of red granite stands solitary among the green fields to mark where stood the City of the Sun, and the wild bees store their honey in its deep-cut hieroglyphs.

If any remains at all exist of Abydos, they have long since been buried deep beneath the piled up heaps of sand and mud amongst which has been built a little Arab village named ‘Arabat the Buried.’ Whilst exploring these mounds the famous discoverer Mariette found two temples erected by well-known kings of far later date, Seti i. and Rameses the Great, and dedicated by them to Osiris. Not far off there arises amid the desolation a conical hillock sixty feet high, which is called by the Arabs Kom-es-Sultan, the ‘Mound of the King.’ It is just made up of tombs ‘packed together as closely as they can be wedged,’ above a rock which was believed to have been the sepulchre of Osiris. Here it was that so many during many generations desired to be laid; through the excavations of explorers may be seen countless numbers of the tombs where they hoped to rest in peace. But the mummy cases have been rudely dragged to light, despoiled, and rifled of aught they might have contained of commercial value, while the poor mummies themselves are left, often broken into fragments, exposed to the careless gaze of every passer-by and to the ‘full glare of the noon-day sun.’ Pits sunk in the neighbourhood disclose nothing but tombs, ‘arches upon arches of brick, each an Egyptian grave.’[8]

Mena founded his new capital 360 miles north of Thinis. The Nahsi or Negroes, in the south, were troublesome rather than dangerous neighbours, and the whole length of the Nile valley was protected by the natural defences of the Libyan hills on the west and the Arabian on the east, but the Delta had no such shelter, and through its plains the way to the rich luxuriant valley lay open to an invading force, whether of the fair-haired Libyans from the west or the warlike tribes of the Amu and the Herusha from the east. Memphis was built some miles south of the point where the narrow valley of the Nile opens out into the broad plains of the Delta.[9] Here the river ran near the Libyan hills; so, by Mena’s orders, its course was turned aside to gain a wider space for the new city—Mennefer, he called it—the ‘secure and beautiful.’ He first of all erected a magnificent temple, which he dedicated to Ptah, ‘Father of the beginning’ and ‘Creator of the world,’ of whose worship Memphis continued to be the centre. It was well fortified and guarded against inroads from the north, and protected the entrance to the Nile valley, of which its rulers held the key. And it was fair to look upon, lying along the banks of the great river—with artificial lakes glittering in the cloudless sunshine, and stately temples and palaces embosomed amongst groves of palm, sycamore, and date trees. Thousands of years passed by, and in later days the ruthless tide of war ebbed and flowed around its walls; siege, storm, and havoc did their work—but in spite of all, so late as the 13th century a.d., an Arabian physician who visited the ruins of Memphis tells us that they extended a half-day’s journey every way, and he declares that the wonders he beheld were sufficient to confound the mind; no eloquence could describe them. Every new glance, he says, was a new cause of delight. But the work of ruin was not ended in his day—Mahometan fanaticism spares nothing, however time-honoured or beautiful; besides which, the ruins of Memphis proved a convenient quarry for the building of modern Cairo. Thus the ‘secure and beautiful’ city of King Mena has disappeared at length as utterly as Babylon has done. A few insignificant fragments and blocks are strewn confusedly about, and serve to mark the site. One mighty statue lies prostrate—a colossal figure of Rameses ii., erected by himself in front of the temple of Ptah. It is lying on its face in a broad ditch, deserted and alone, save when some wandering Arab passes by, or cattle come to drink of the water which, for most part of the year, fills the trench and submerges the gigantic figure—

Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Of historic details relating to the earliest dynasties next to nothing has been preserved; the kings appear to have been able and enlightened rulers, and encouragers of art and learning. In their days the system of hieroglyphic writing existed, and we are told of works on the healing arts, some of which were composed by the successor of Mena himself, for ‘he was a physician.’ The earliest chapters of the sacred books were extant, and the art of embalming was already practised, though in a comparatively rude fashion. We are also informed that by a decree of King Bai-en-neter of the second dynasty, women were declared capable of succeeding to the crown—a statement which is only in harmony with all that we know of the position of women in ancient Egypt.[10]

One remarkable monument of these early dynasties remains.

The Libyan hills, running from north to south, form the western boundary of the Nile valley. Along their base there is a rocky platform of considerable breadth, at a height of some 90 or 100 feet above the plain. This vast platform was used as the necropolis of Memphis—Ank-ta, ‘Land of life,’ they called it. For the space of twenty miles in the neighbourhood of the city, it was covered with groups of pyramids and tombs. In the centre of the most ancient of these stands the pyramid of Sakkara, known as the ‘stepped pyramid,’ or ‘pyramid of degrees,’ which is considered as the burial-place of Ata, fourth King of Egypt. In that case, it is the oldest known sepulchre in the world. It is of grand and rugged aspect, about 200 feet in height, and flattened at the summit. The exterior is formed of six rough gigantic steps composed of stones, and nine or ten feet in thickness.

The forms of King Mena and his successors may well appear dreamlike in the dim light by which we discern them; but we seem to perceive that Mena was, at any rate, the first who wore the ‘double crown,’ which bespoke sovereignty over the whole land; the white upper crown representing dominion over Upper, the red lower one dominion over Lower Egypt. His successors were strong enough to repel invaders, to maintain intact the power they inherited, and thus to transmit to following dynasties the double crown they had received from Mena, the ‘Firm’ or ‘Constant.’

[CHAPTER II.]

The Pyramid Builders.

There is no longer any need to trust to the scanty notices of these early times that occur in writings of later date. Egyptian inscriptions now tell their own story; the monuments begin to speak. In the valley of Wady Maghara, in the peninsula of Sinai, carved upon the rocky precipice, is to be seen King Senefru himself, in the act of striking down an enemy; the accompanying inscription gives the name and titles of the sovereign, and designates him the conqueror of the Mentu, the ‘foreigners of the East.’

In these rocky valleys rich mineral treasures had been discovered, valuable copper ore, besides the blue and green precious stones so much prized in Egypt. These mines were explored and worked by labourers sent from Egypt, and the district gradually passed into possession of its kings.

Fortresses were erected and soldiers stationed there to protect the workmen, and temples were erected that all might be carried on under the protection of the gods. This treasure-yielding district was jealously watched and guarded by the Egyptians, who were thus often brought into collision with neighbouring tribes. Nor is Senefru’s tablet by any means the sole record of battle and of conquest, for his successors left many such memorials there. It is not, however, by these alone, or by these principally, that their name and fame has been preserved to modern days.

THE SPHINX.

The rocky platform at the foot of the Libyan hills is of unequal breadth; at one spot, near Memphis, it widens considerably, and forms a sort of promontory jutting out into the plain. It was here that the pyramids of Ghizeh rose in their stupendous majesty. Not far off a huge block of limestone rock, bearing probably some accidental resemblance to an animal at rest,[11] was transformed by the skill of the royal architect into the colossal image of a mysterious being—a lion with the head of a man wearing the crown and insignia of an Egyptian monarch—symbol of strength, intellect, and royal dignity. He lay in solemn repose, gazing ever towards the east, where arose each morning Horus of the horizon (Hor-em-khu), the bright deity he represented. To the south of the Sphinx (as the Greeks afterwards called the mystic creature), Khufu, successor of Senefru, erected a temple to Isis, ‘Queen of the Pyramids,’ and to the north a temple to Osiris, ‘Lord of the unseen world,’—thus consecrating the whole of that vast city of the dead to the threefold guardianship of Osiris, Isis, and Horus, names so nearly associated in the Egyptian mind with death, the unseen world, and life triumphant and immortal.

Whilst the great image of Horus was being shaped, and the temples of Osiris and Isis were building, Khufu was by no means unmindful of his own sepulchral monument. The colossal pile,—which he named ‘Khut’ (Splendour of Light),—is known to us by the name of the ‘Great Pyramid.’

The building of these royal tombs, the pyramids, was the work of a lifetime. A square was first formed, the corners of which were exactly north, south, east, and west; course upon course was added as the years went by, but it could be finished off at any given moment. The angles were then filled in with granite or limestone, fitted with absolute exactness, and the whole sloping surface was beautifully polished. As King Khufu reigned for fifty-seven years, it is no wonder that his sepulchral monument should have attained such gigantic proportions. To form any idea of what the pyramids must once have been, we must restore these polished casing-stones which are now all but gone, and have probably been used in the building of Cairo. Now, ‘their stripped sides present a rude, disjointed appearance,’ but then, the first and second were of ‘brilliant white or yellow limestone, the third all glowing with the red granite from the First Cataract,’ five hundred miles away. ‘Then you must build up or uncover the massive tombs, now broken or choked up with sand, so as to restore the aspect of vast streets of tombs, out of which the Great Pyramid would arise like a cathedral above smaller churches. Lastly, you must enclose two other pyramids with stone precincts and gigantic doorways; and, above all, you must restore the Sphinx as he was in the days of his glory.’[12]

Narrow passages lead into the heart of the mighty mass of Khufu’s pyramid, which rises on a base of 764 feet to the height of 480 feet. When the traveller has climbed, or crept, to the centre he finds himself in a chamber, the walls of which are composed of polished red granite. Nothing is left there now to tell of the royal builder but his empty sarcophagus, and his name and titles, amongst other scrawls, written by the masons in red ochre on the walls.

Khafra, the successor of Khufu, is made very real to us by the wonderful statue of him which was found uninjured amongst a number of other broken ones of the same monarch, in a deep well near his burial-place. It is of a bright greenish stone, and admirably executed. The king’s features are life-like and benign. A hawk, symbol of Ra, not seen in our illustration, stands behind, and embraces his head with its wings, as if sheltering and protecting the sovereign, who was ‘Son of the Sun.’

Khafra’s pyramid, called by him Ur, or the Great, is second in size only to that of Khufu. On the upper part of it the original casing-stone still remains.

The third of the pyramids of Ghizeh, that of Menkaura, though only about half the size of the other two, exceeded them both in costliness and splendour; it was cased from top to bottom in brilliant red granite, exquisitely finished.

These ancient pyramids have long ago been rifled for the sake of anything they contained of value, but in the red pyramid a sarcophagus was discovered made of black basalt, beautifully wrought. It was shipped for England, but lost off Gibraltar. Only the wooden case reached London, and was deposited in the British Museum, together with the bones that had been gathered out of poor Menkaura’s resting-place, and which doubtless formed part of his skeleton.[13]

The Pyramids of Khufu and Khafra.

Of the monarchs of the succeeding dynasties there is little to be said. The names of many of them are found recorded in the valleys of Sinai as ‘conquerors of the Mentu,’ and they were each and all pyramid builders. The names of their pyramids are known, but only a few of them have been identified.

Recent investigation of the pyramids of Sakkara has brought to light the sepulchres of the last king of the fifth dynasty—Unas—and of Pepi and Merienra of the sixth dynasty, together with their shrivelled remains. From the corpse of the last-named king not only the ornaments, but the coverings and bandages, had been torn away.

Some rays of light are thrown upon the times of Pepi and Merienra by an inscription that was found at Abydos, in the tomb of one Una, who was Governor of the South. In the reign of Teta, first king of the sixth dynasty, Una, then a young man, had been already intrusted with important offices. He was crown-bearer, superintendent of the storehouse, and registrar of the docks. Under Pepi he rose to yet higher dignity and influence. ‘His Majesty gave me the rank of “King’s friend;” I was royal scribe and chief over the treasury, and priest of the royal pyramid. No secret was withheld from me; he allowed me to hear all that was said. By his orders I brought a white stone sarcophagus from the land of Ruau. It was embarked safely and brought, together with the doors, cover, and pedestal, in a great boat belonging to the palace.

‘But now His Majesty was summoned to drive back the Amu and the Herusha,[14] who were threatening the land. He levied soldiers from beyond the southern frontier, and recruited negroes from very many places. He placed me at the head of these troops. I summoned captains and rulers from every part that they might train and drill the negro forces. I was the representative of the king; everything fell upon me alone, for there was no man above me but Pharaoh himself. To the utmost of my power I laboured; I wore out my sandals in going hither and thither. Never was any army better officered or disciplined. It marched without let or hindrance until it arrived at the land of the Herusha. It laid waste the country, burning the villages, and cutting down vine and fig-trees; many thousands of the foe were taken prisoners.

‘Five times was I sent to subdue revolts among the Herusha until the land was completely conquered. King Merienra made me Governor of the South, and bestowed high dignity upon me in his household.

‘I was charged to bring the sarcophagus and statue for the pyramid of Merienra, and I transported them in boats. I also quarried a great slab of alabaster for the king in seventeen days. I constructed a boat of 100 feet in length, and 50 in breadth. But there was not water enough to tow it in safety. Therefore I excavated four docks in the land of the south, and next year at the time of the inundation I disembarked in safety both the alabaster slab and all the granite required for the pyramid Kha-nefer[15] of Merienra. Then for those docks I erected a building in which the spirits of the king might be invoked, even of the king Merienra, by whose command all had been done that was done.

‘The beloved of his father, the praised of his mother, the delight of his brethren, the chief, the Governor of the South, the truly devoted to Osiris—Una.’

[CHAPTER III.]

The Pyramid Builders—Continued.

The warlike expeditions described by Una, the Governor of the South, form the exception rather than the rule in this early history. Fearing no rivals at home, and almost entirely free from enemies abroad, these powerful monarchs devoted their thoughts and care to the building of temples and of those gigantic funeral piles that have immortalised their names.

It is certain that the pyramids could not have been erected without a very considerable amount of scientific knowledge, whilst as records of engineering skill they are simply marvellous. Immense blocks were brought from a distance of 500 miles up the river, were polished like glass, and fitted into their places with such exactness that the joints could hardly be detected. ‘Nothing can be more wonderful,’ says Fergusson, ‘than the extraordinary amount of knowledge and perfect precision of execution displayed in the construction of the interior chambers and galleries; nothing more perfect mechanically has ever been executed since.’

A curious calculation has been made that the stone used in the construction of Khufu’s pyramid would make a wall of six feet high and half a yard broad, that would reach across the Atlantic from Liverpool to Newfoundland.

In the tombs which cluster round the royal pyramids have been discovered records and relics of deeper and more human interest than the pyramids themselves. At Meidoom were buried the great men of Senefru’s time. Their tombs were formed of immense blocks of stone, and have been long hidden from sight by the accumulation of soil above them. The entrance passages are covered with figures and inscriptions. The figures are wrought in a kind of mosaic work. Little square holes were made, and filled with hard cement of various colours. The brightness of the tints is wonderful, as if they had been laid on yesterday; and in some places there can be discerned upon the sand, marks of the footprints left there by the bearers of the coffin.

Netting Birds.

Here we seem brought face to face with a very remote past. All is so strangely distant and unlike, but at the same time all is strangely near and like ourselves and our own life to-day. Here, e.g., is the entrance-passage to the tomb of Nefer-mat, a high officer of state and ‘friend of the king,’ who married Atet, a royal princess. On one side of the passage we see Nefer-mat, with his wife clinging to his arm; on the other he is represented with his little son at his feet. In front of us the husband and wife are again delineated; her long hair falls loosely over her shoulders, and she places her hand upon her heart in token of devoted affection.

Atet appears to have survived her husband, and her own tomb is close at hand. Amongst the scenes depicted there is one in which Nefer-mat is employed in netting fowl; the wife is seated near, watching the sport, and servants are bringing her the game. The hieroglyphic inscription says: ‘Princess Atet receives with pleasure the game caught by the chief noble, Nefer-mat.’

In another of these tombs were discovered the wonderful statues of Ra-hotep and his beautiful wife Nefert, which are now in the museum at Boulak. Ra-hotep was a prince, very likely a son of Senefru, who died young; he was a captain in the army, and chief priest of Ra, at On. These, the most ancient known statues in the world, are ‘marvels of life-like reality.’ The Egyptians always excelled in portrait sculpture; the figures may be stiff and ill-drawn, but the faces are beyond doubt truthful and characteristic likenesses. Men of learning were held in honour at the court of these early Pharaohs, as well as architects and sculptors. But the literature of those days may be said to have perished. Portions of it, enshrined in the sacred writings, have survived, and there is, besides, one venerable manuscript of the time of the fifth dynasty, which has come down to us. It is called the Maxims of Ptah-hotep and is the oldest manuscript known. The writer was a prince by birth, and a governor; he lived to be more than a hundred years old, and after a long and varied experience of life, when the infirmities of old age had come upon him, he recorded, for the use and benefit of all, the teaching of that serene and simple wisdom which is never new and never old—such as the following:—

‘A good son is the gift of God.’

‘If thou art a wise man, bring up thy son in the love of God.’

‘If any one bears himself proudly, he will be humbled by God, who gave his strength.’

‘If thou hast become great after having been lowly, and art the first in thy town; if thou art known for thy wealth, and art become a great lord—let not thy heart grow proud because of thy riches, for it is God who was the author of them for thee. Despise not another who may be as thou once wast; be towards him as towards thine equal.’

‘With the courage that knowledge gives, discuss with the ignorant as with the learned. Good words shine more than the emerald, which the hand of the slave finds on the pebbles.’

‘He who obeys not does really nothing; he sees knowledge in ignorance, virtue in vices; he commits daily and boldly all sort of crimes, and lives as if he was dead. What others know to be death, is his daily life.’

‘God lives through all that is good and pure.’

And he concludes:—

‘Thus shalt thou obtain health of body and the favour of the king, and pass the years of thy life without falsehood. I am become one of the ancients of the earth. I have passed 110 years of life—fulfilling my duty to the king, and I have continued to stand in his favour.’

The venerable Ptah-hotep was buried in one of the tombs that are grouped around the ancient pyramid of Sakkara. Near his burial-place is the vast tomb of Thi, on which is recorded, in sculptured story, the course of his daily life. Of his own birth and parentage nothing is said, but he so distinguished himself that the king gave him his daughter in marriage. Thi was royal scribe, president of royal writings, and conductor of the king’s works. His tomb must indeed have been the work of a lifetime. We see him there, amidst the scenes of rural life, watching over the ingathering of the harvest, or fowling in the marshes; one while he is listening to the strains of music, another time he is steering his little vessel on the broad waters of the Nile. Servant girls are carrying on their heads and in their hands, in baskets or in jars, the produce of his estates—wine, bread, geese, pigeons, fruit, and flowers. Above is depicted a humorous scene, such as Egyptian artists delighted in. A number of donkeys pass in file, their saddle-cloths are ornamented with fringes, and they are laden with panniers of grain. Men walk by the side to steady the heavy loads. One load, however, has shifted from its place, and two men are trying to put it back; the animal is restive, and one man has hold of him by the tail while another has grasped his nose. The donkey coming immediately behind has seized the opportunity of the halt to give the man in front of him a poke with his nose. Each driver is armed with a stout stick, and one of them is just raising his against the unruly animal. It is evident that donkeys were considered troublesome and obstinate some four or five thousand years ago, that their humours amused the Egyptian artists, and that donkey drivers then, as now, were ready to use their sticks.

In another drawing Thi is seen in a boat made of reeds, superintending a hippopotamus hunt. One of his men has succeeded in getting a rope round the neck of one savage-looking beast, and is preparing to despatch him with a long club. The river is full of fish, and one of the hippopotami has just seized a little crocodile between his enormous jaws. In another picture a crocodile hunt is represented, whilst in one drawing we see an angler who is evidently out for a day’s sport in one of the small reed boats. He is in the act of drawing a fish out of the water, and by his side he has loaves of bread, a cup, and a bottle.

Nowhere is depicted a scene of battle or warlike display, everything speaks of rural and domestic life.

But we do not see the great men of Pharaoh’s court only in the scenes and amusements of life. Funeral rites are also represented. The body is seen embalmed and carried to its last resting-place; funeral gifts are offered in rich abundance. No obligation was more sacred than that of bringing funeral oblations and offering prayer for the departed parent or friend. Inscriptions over the tombs called even on the passer-by to stay a while and offer up the customary invocation. The form of this invocation varied from age to age, but the main burden of its petitions was that Osiris would ‘grant the funeral oblations of all good things; that the departed one might not be repulsed at the entrance of the unseen world, but might be glorified amongst the blessed ones in presence of the Good Being, that he (or she) might breathe the delicious breezes of the north wind, and drink from the depth of the river.’

It was customary to build a chamber at the entrance to the tomb, in which the family and friends of the departed assembled from time to time to offer oblations and prayers, and to realise the actual presence of those who were gone. The walls of these rooms were covered with pictured and sculptured scenes taken from the varied scenes of daily life. They were adorned ‘as for a home of pleasure and joy’—no thought of gloom is even suggested.

The names given to the pyramids by their royal builders are very striking in this respect. Amongst them we find the ‘Abode of Life,’ the ‘Refreshing Place,’ the ‘Good Rising,’ the ‘Most Holy,’ ‘Most Lovely,’ or ‘Most Abiding Place,’ the ‘Rising of the Soul.’

The earliest of the pyramids were unsculptured and unadorned within, so there was attached to each of them a small sanctuary or memorial chapel; the office of ‘priest of the royal pyramid’ being held in high estimation and conferred on the most illustrious men of the day.

During their lifetime the Pharaohs were regarded by their people as representatives of the gods, or even as emanations from the Divine Being. After their death their memory was preserved and sacred rites were performed by the priests attached to their respective pyramids. Down to the latest days of the Empire, and even in the reign of the Ptolemies (three or four thousand years after they had been laid to rest ‘each within his own house’), priests were still officiating in memory of Khufu, Khafra, or Senefru—the far-famed pyramid builders.

For whilst the names of some amongst the later Pharaohs are emblazoned on the page of history as conquerors of high renown, who founded an Egyptian empire and gathered in rich and varied tribute from many subject races—those ancient monarchs are known and will ever be remembered as the kings ‘who built the pyramids.’

[CHAPTER IV.]

Civil War and Break-up of the Kingdom—Reunion and Recovery.

The last sovereign of the sixth dynasty was a queen named Nitocris. After her death occurs a perfect blank in Egyptian history. Not a line of hieroglyphic writing, not a fragment of a ruin has survived from this period of darkness and silence. Of the seventh dynasty the very names are lost; of the eighth, nothing but the names has been preserved. The names, however, are so similar to those of the sixth dynasty, that we may conclude that these rulers were of the same royal line and descendants of Mena.

It may be gathered from the bare fact of the accession of a female sovereign that the direct male line had failed. Nitocris appears to have left no children, and it is easy to imagine how rival claims and dissension would arise; each claimant asserting his right as next of kin, to wear the double crown.

But at the same time the double crown lost much of its splendour. Other pretenders started up, ambitious men, claiming no right of kinship certainly, but anxious to make their own profit during this period of discord and weakness in the ruling house. Egypt was divided into forty-two districts or ‘nomes,’ and each of these possessed its own governor (hak, or prince, he was called) and each was to some extent a government complete within itself. The office of these prince-governors was often hereditary, and there was always a danger lest some powerful and popular governor should aim at setting up a petty kingdom of his own, in the event of the ruling hand becoming enfeebled. During a female reign the controlling power would be lessened, whilst the prospect of a disputed succession was awakening ambitious hopes and schemes. So long as Nitocris lived, the reverence due to a direct representative of the Pharaohs might prove some restraint, but at her death the smouldering ambitions and rivalries of scions of the royal house and of powerful provincial governors could hardly fail to burst forth, and find vent in fierce flames of discord and of civil war.

Would we form to ourselves some idea of the state of Egypt during the ensuing centuries, we must picture a feeble scion of the ancient line ruling at Memphis over a territory barely extending beyond the capital; for in the north the foreign races would seize their opportunity for invading and encroaching upon the rich Delta land, thus blocking the great highway by the river; and farther south a rival dynasty is established at Heracleopolis, in Middle Egypt, not to reckon the other petty kingdoms or principalities into which the country is broken up—the whole a scene of ceaseless jealousies and mutual conflict.

At length in the extreme south certain king-like figures emerge of a more commanding appearance, and seen by a clearer light. The Antefs first, a family of ancient and illustrious, though not royal descent, who had set up their dominion at a town then insignificant and unknown to fame—Thebes. The burial-places of the kings of this family (who are sometimes reckoned in the eleventh dynasty) have been discovered in Western Thebes. Their tombs are plain, and but little ornamented; there are some brick pyramids of no great size, and some fragments of small broken obelisks. In one of the memorial chambers is depicted an Antef who assumed the title of the ‘Great;’ he appears to have been a sportsman, and is to be seen surrounded by his dogs, each of which is distinguished by its name. From the days of these kings a literary relic also has come down to us. The ‘festal dirge’ of the Egyptians bears the name of the Song of the House of King Antef. Many, many ages later, Herodotus, travelling in Egypt, told of the custom which prevailed of carrying round during an entertainment a figure representing a mummy, whilst the bearer repeated the words: ‘Cast your eyes upon this figure; after death you yourself will resemble it; eat, drink, then, and be happy;’ words plainly recalling the ‘solemn festal dirge’ which dated back to the ‘House of Antef,’ about 2000 years before his time, and which was to the following effect:—

‘All hail the good Prince, the worthy man who has passed away! Behold the end! the end of those who possess houses and of those who have them not. I have heard the sayings of the wise:—“What is prosperity? All passes as though it had not been—no man returneth thence to tell us what they say or do.”

‘Fulfil, then, thy desire, O man, whilst yet thou livest. Anoint thine head with oil, and clothe thee in fine linen adorned with gold—Make use of God’s good gifts.

‘For the day will come for thee also when voices are heard no more; he who is at rest heareth not the cry of those who mourn. No mourning may deliver him that is within the tomb.

‘Feast, then, in peace—for none can carry away his goods with him, nor can he who goeth hence return again.’

There are, then, a few scanty records left of the Antef family and their rule in the south. Still more distinct and commanding are the figures of another family, the brave and warlike Mentuhoteps; who eventually succeeded in restoring order over a considerable portion of the distracted and divided land. This family was of Theban origin, and the centre of their government was in that city, then so obscure, though destined to become in after days the crown of ancient cities and the wonder of the ancient world—‘hundred-gated Thebes.’

With wise forethought the Mentuhoteps devoted their attention to the development of trade and industry in the south. The passage of the great water-way of the Nile was impeded, but there was an outlet for commerce by a route leading eastward from the Nile to the Red Sea. Koptos, a town not far north of Thebes, stood at the entrance of the desert rocky valley of Hammamat, through which merchantmen and travellers made a weary and painful eight days’ journey to the Red Sea. The Mentuhotep kings themselves took up their residence sometimes at Koptos, and the gloomy valley of Hammamat gradually became a scene of busy industry. Mines of gold and silver ore were worked there, and stone was hewn from its quarries for building purposes at Thebes, which was continually growing in extent and in importance. For the benefit of the labourers in the hot valley, and for the refreshment of travellers and their beasts, a deep well, ten cubits broad, was sunk by royal order. The whole district was placed under the special guardianship of the god Khem, who was known as the ‘Protecting Lord of the mountain.’ The rocks near Koptos are to this day covered with inscriptions—the invocations and prayers of many generations, both of workmen and of wayfarers. The development of trade and industry brought an increase both of wealth and power to the Mentuhoteps and their people. During the reign of the last sovereign of the eleventh dynasty, a more distant expedition was undertaken.

The land of Punt[16] was well known by name and repute to the Egyptians; they regarded it as a sacred region (Ta-neter, the ‘holy land’), and it was known to be a hilly country, whose shores were washed by the Red Sea, and to be celebrated for many rare and precious products; for choice and costly woods; for gems and frankincense, and fragrant spices; for trees and plants unknown at home; for birds of strange plumage, giraffes, monkeys, and leopards. King Sankhkara despatched an expedition thither under the command of a nobleman named Hanno. Hanno tells us the story himself: ‘I was sent,’ he says, ‘to conduct ships to the land of Punt, to fetch for the king sweet-smelling spices.’ He started with 3000 men, well armed and carefully provided with water, which was carried in skins on poles. Through the valley of Hammamat he pressed on rapidly to the sea; there he embarked, after offering up rich sacrifices. ‘I brought back,’ he says, ‘all kinds of products, and I brought back precious stones for the statues of the temples.’

The route between Koptos and the Red Sea continued to be a highway for commerce down to the days of the Greeks and Romans.

[CHAPTER V.]

Twelfth Dynasty—‘Instructions’ of Amenemhat I.—Story of Saneha.

There was a certain unity in Egyptian worships, but in various localities the chief deities bore different names, and were regarded under varying aspects. The worship of some of these chief deities, however, became general, if not universal, at a very early period; e.g. that of Osiris, Isis, and Horus, the triad of Abydos; that of Ra and Turn,[17] chief gods of On, and that of Ptah, the centre of which was Memphis. The Thebaid—i.e. the district surrounding Thebes—had its own local divinities also. Khem, ‘Lord of the mountain,’ was adored at Koptos; Amen (worshipped in connection with Mut, the ‘Divine Mother,’ and Khons) was the chief god of Thebes. He was destined to become, under the name of Amen-Ra, the chief amongst Egyptian gods at a later day.

The name of the first sovereign of the twelfth dynasty, Amenemhat (‘Amen the leader’), bespeaks its southern origin. This great monarch followed up the successes of the Mentuhoteps, and finally re-united Egypt under one sceptre, although at the cost of many years of severe conflict. Then he had to drive back the Kushites, who had encroached on the south, and the Libyans and the Amu, who troubled the northern borders; and after he had restored the ancient boundaries there was still need of perpetual vigilance upon the frontiers. On the north-east, where lay the greatest danger, he erected fortresses and built a strong wall of defence.

But although Amenemhat i. had been able to restore the ancient boundaries of Egypt, and all the country was subject, nominally, to his sway, it is certain that the kinglets and chieftains whom he had reduced bore him but little affection, and yielded only a sullen and constrained obedience; in fact there is evidence of a hatred so vindictive that it did not scruple to resort even to the dagger of midnight assassination. But King Amenemhat did not rest content with the supremacy he had won; he strove, and not without success in the end, to win the goodwill and affection of the people, and he bequeathed to his successors a legacy of peace and prosperity that lasted for many generations. In the ‘Instructions’ which he left for his son Usertesen (whom he had associated with him on the throne), we may see both the high ideal this great and wise sovereign had formed of his own duties, and also form some idea of the perils and anxieties amidst which he strove to perform them.

‘Now thou art king,’ he says to his son; ‘strive to excel those who have gone before thee. Keep peace between thy people and thyself, lest they should be afraid of thee. Go amongst them, keep not thyself aloof; do not let it be only great lords and nobles whom thou takest to thy heart as brothers; nevertheless, let none come near thee whose friendship thou hast not proved.

‘Let thine own heart be strong, for know this, O man, that in the day of adversity thy servants’ help will fail thee. As for me, I have given to the lowly and I have strengthened the weak. I have breathed courage into hearts where there was none.

‘Thee have I exalted from being a subject, and I have upheld thee, that men may fear before thee. I have adorned myself with fine linen, so that I was like the pure water flowers; I anointed myself with fragrant oil, as though it had been water.

‘My remembrance lives in men’s hearts because I caused the sorrow of the afflicted to cease; their cry was no longer heard. The conflicts are over, though they had been renewed again and again, for the land had become like a mighty one who is forgetful of the past. Neither the ignorant nor the learned man was able to endure.[18]

‘Once after supper, when the shades of night had fallen, I went to seek repose. I lay down and stretched myself upon the carpets of my house; my soul began to seek after sleep. But lo! armed men had assembled to attack me; I was helpless as the torpid snake in the field. Then I aroused myself, and collected all my strength, but it was to strike at a foe who made no stand. If I encountered an armed rebel I made the coward turn and fly; not even in the darkness was he brave; no one fought.

‘Nor was there ever a time of need that found me unprepared. And when the day of my passing hence came, and I knew it not—I had never given ear to the courtiers who desired me to abdicate in thy favour. I sat ever by thy side, and planned all things for thee.

‘I never neglected anything that was for the benefit of my servants. If locusts came arrayed for plunder, if conspiracy assailed me at home, if the Nile was low, and the wells were dry; if my enemies took advantage of thyyouth to conspire to do ill,—I never faltered from the day that I was born. Never was the like seen since the days of the heroes.

‘My messengers have travelled to the south and to the north. I stood upon the frontiers to keep watch, I stationed men armed with scimitars upon the boundaries, and I was armed with a scimitar myself.

‘I grew abundance of corn, and the god of corn gave me the rising of the Nile over the cultivated land. None was hungry through me, none thirsted through me; every one took heed to obey my words. All my orders increased the affection my people had for me.

‘I hunted the lion, and brought home the crocodile. I fought the Nubians, and took the Libyans captive. I turned my forces against the Sati; he fawned upon me like a dog.

‘I built myself a house[19] adorned with gold; its ceiling was of azure, its galleries of stone. It was made for eternity. I possess the everlasting powers of the gods. There are many secret passages therein; I alone possess the key. None knows the way but thee, O Usertesen. Thou enterest, and thou wilt see me with thine eyes amongst the spirits who do thee honour.

‘All I have done is for thee. Do thou place upon my statue the double crown and the tokens of divinity; let the seal of friendship unite us. In the boat of Ra am I offering prayers for thee. It was my power that raised thee to the throne and upheld thee there.’

The latter years of Amenemhat’s reign flowed tranquilly by. ‘The land had rest’ from the warfare of centuries; and the sovereigns applied themselves to restoring the temples of the gods which had been neglected during the troublous times through which Egypt had passed. Amenemhat laid the foundation of the Great Temple at Thebes, whose colossal ruins still excite the wonder of the traveller at Karnak.

During the joint reign of these two sovereigns peace and confidence were so far restored that it was possible to deal generously with fugitives and exiles. A kindly answer was accordingly sent to a humble petition from one of these, Saneha by name, who had fled or been banished the country many years before. He has left an account of his experiences, which has fortunately come down to us. The first lines are wanting that would have given the events which led to his hurried flight; but it is not difficult to imagine how a young and powerful noble might have become compromised in insurrection or conspiracy during the earlier years of Amenemhat’s reign—so gravely compromised that his recall and friendly reception by the kings was regarded with suspicion and disapproval by some of the royal family themselves. The narrative opens thus—‘When I was about to set out, my heart was troubled, my hands trembled, numbness fell on my limbs. I disguised myself as a seller of herbs;[20] twice I started and turned back.... I passed the night in a garden; when it was day I arose, and by supper-time had arrived at the town.... There I embarked on a barge without a rudder, and came to Abu; the rest of the journey I made on foot. I came to the fortress which the king built to keep off the Sakti, and I was received by an old man, a seller of herbs. But I was afraid when I beheld the watchmen upon the walls relieving each other daily. In the dawn I proceeded, and went on my journey from place to place. Thirst overtook me, and my throat was parched; it was as the taste of death. But I encouraged myself, and my limbs waxed strong, for I heard the pleasant voice of cattle. I saw a Sakti. He spoke to me, saying, “O thou that art from Egypt! whither art thou going?” Then he gave me water, and poured out milk for me. He brought me to his people, and they conducted me from place to place till we came to Tennu. The king said, “Remain with me; here thou wilt hear the language of Egypt.” I told him what had happened; he understood my condition, and heard the story of my disgrace. Then he questioned me, saying, “Why hast thou done these things?... And is it true that the wealth of the house of Amenemhat reacheth unto heaven?” And I said, “It is certain.”’

Saneha then tells the king of his earlier life; he extols the fame of king Amenemhat and the martial prowess and great popularity of his son—to which the king answers, ‘Yea, Egypt is safe—it is well. Behold, so long as thou art with me, I will do thee good.’ And he kept his word, giving the Egyptian exile lands and possessions and marrying him to his eldest daughter. For many years Saneha dwelt in the strange country, and saw his children grow up around him. Nor was he unmindful of his own past sufferings, but was ever ready to ‘give water to the thirsty and set the wanderer in the way.’ He aided the king also against his enemies, so that, ‘beholding the valour of his arm,’ he made him chief amongst his children. Presently Saneha receives a challenge from a certain strong man, hitherto undisputed champion of the Tennu. The prospect of this single combat excited intense interest. All Tennu assembled to behold it, and ‘every heart was sorry for Saneha,’ who was to encounter so redoubtable a foe. But of course Saneha triumphs, and obtains possession of his enemy’s person and goods. ‘I got great treasure and wealth, I got much cattle.’

In spite of riches and renown and royal favour, the heart of the exile grows sad; old age is at hand, and an irrepressible longing after home and native land seizes upon him. He ventures to approach the all-powerful King of Egypt with a humble petition for pardon and recall. ‘Let me be buried,’ he says, ‘in the place where I was born.’ His petition was most graciously received. Usertesen sent a messenger to the land of the Tennu, laden with many royal gifts and intrusted with a mandate drawn up in his father’s name. ‘Thou hast passed through the lands,’ writes the king, ‘going from country to country as thy heart bade thee. Behold what thou hast done thou hast done. Thou shalt not be called to account for what thou hast said in the assembly of young men, nor for the business that thou didst devise. If thou comest to Egypt, a house shall be prepared for thee. If thou dost homage to Pharaoh, thou shalt be numbered amongst the king’s councillors.... Lo, thou hast arrived at middle age; thou hast passed the flower of thy youth. Think upon the day of burial, upon the passage to Amenti.[21] Cedar oil and wrappings shall be given thee—service shall be done to thee in the day of thy burial. At the door of thy tomb the poor shall make supplication; invocations shall be made before thee.’ This letter reached Saneha as he was in the midst of his people. Overcome with emotion he prostrated himself upon the ground. He first caused the mandate to be read aloud before his chosen men, and then assembled his household to hear the news, ‘I being myself like one mad.’ Without delay Saneha sent his answer, worded with the profoundest humility and gratitude, anxious only that the king’s majesty should not hold the people of Tennu responsible as though they had in any way been concerned in his guilt or had aided his flight.

Saneha immediately arranged everything for his departure; he set his eldest son in his place, and appointed a director over his workmen. Then he bade adieu to the friendly people among whom he had so long sojourned, and they assembled in crowds to wish him a good journey and happy arrival at court. When he reached the country he had left by stealth, slinking away in disguise like a thief, he was met by princes of the royal family, who conducted him forthwith into the presence of the king. ‘I found his majesty in the old place, in the pavilion of pure gold. I fell upon my face, as one amazed. The “god” addressed me mildly, but I was as one brought out of the dark; my tongue was dumb, my limbs failed me, I knew not whether I was alive or dead. His majesty said to one of the councillors, “Lift him up that I may speak to him.” His majesty said, “Behold, thou hast gone about the lands like a runaway. Now old age has come upon thee. Thy renown is not small; be not silent and without words, for thy name is famous.” Saneha replies in broken utterances; ‘Behold, oh, my lord, how can I answer these things? Is not God’s hand upon me; it is terrible. There is that within me that causeth pain. I am before thee. Thou art mighty. Let thy majesty do as it pleaseth thee.’ The royal family were now admitted, and the king said to the queen, ‘Behold Saneha; he went away as an Amu; he has become a Sakti.’[22] To add to the confusion and alarm of the repentant exile, there now arises a great cry from some of the princes of the royal family itself, who exclaim with one voice—‘He is not in the right, O my lord the king!’ But Amenemhat, as we know, was not one to be thwarted or turned aside from his purpose;[23] and he only replies, ‘He is in the right,’ and proceeds forthwith to lavish tokens of reconciliation and favour upon Saneha. He gives him precedence in the palace, and appoints him one of the king’s intimate councillors. He is clothed in fine linen, the attire of a prince, and is anointed with fragrant oil. A princely habitation is assigned for his use whilst the labourers are busily employed erecting for him a house ‘befitting a councillor.’ No sooner is it completed than Saneha’s thoughts turn to that other house which he must prepare for himself in the western land—to the day of burial and the ‘passage to Amenti’ of which the royal letter had spoken. He built himself a tomb of stone. The king selected the spot, the chief painter designed and the sculptors carved it; all the decorations were of hewn stone. The field in which it was situated was made over to him as his own possession, and he adds: ‘My image was engraved upon the portal in pure gold. His majesty commanded it to be done. I was in favour with the king until the day of his death came.’

Caressing a Gazelle.

[CHAPTER VI.]

Successors of Amenemhat I.—Two Provinces added to Egypt.

The stone for the sarcophagus of King Amenemhat i. was hewn in the valley of Hammamat, and he was laid to rest in his pyramid called Kha-nefer, the ‘Beautiful Rising,’ leaving behind him an honoured name and an inheritance of peaceful days. Usertesen i., his son and successor, reigned in profound tranquillity, and turned his attention to the temples of the gods, which were neglected and falling into decay. They were, he said, the only monuments that could truly confer immortality on a king. First of all, he called together an assembly of the chief men of the land in that ancient home of Egyptian wisdom and learning, the City of the Sun, to consult about a temple that should be raised, ‘worthy of the name of Ra.’ Usertesen himself laid the foundation-stone, and gave the directions for the carrying out of the work. The ruins of both temple and city are now buried deep beneath the soil, but of the two stately obelisks of rose-coloured granite, which stood at the gateway of the temple, one is still standing in solitary grandeur amid the quiet fields; the hieroglyphs upon its surface still record that ‘the Ruler of the North and South, Lord of the Two Countries, Son of the Sun, Usertesen—beloved of the Gods of On, living for ever, the good god,’ executed this work.

At the ancient sanctuary of Abydos a temple was erected to Osiris, and Memphis was not overlooked. But whilst duly careful for those time-honoured sanctuaries, Usertesen did not neglect the new southern capital, and he carried on the construction of the great temple of Amen, which his father Amenemhat had begun.

The frontiers were vigilantly guarded, and now that quiet times had come back the mines in the Sinaitic peninsula were re-opened and worked. A thousand years had passed since they were first explored at the command of Senefru, and his name had become venerable in its antiquity throughout that region, where he was worshipped as a guardian deity, together with the goddess Hathor, protectress of the district.

One warlike expedition was undertaken during this reign, for the purpose of fixing the boundary to the south and of bringing back gold from Nubia. The command was intrusted to one Ameni, who has left a brief record of the expedition. The king’s eldest son accompanied him, and his success was certainly remarkable, if his statement is true, that of the 400 men he took with him not one was missing when he returned with the golden spoil. This Ameni was the head of that illustrious family, whose tombs at Beni-Hassan have proved such an invaluable storehouse for the investigator. They were hereditary governors of the district, or nome, and their power was very great. Under the firm controlling hand of the sovereigns of this great dynasty, the power and ambition of the prince-governors, which had once split up and half ruined Egypt, were turned into nobler channels, and sought after more peaceful honours. The Maxims of Amenemhat I. seem to awaken a response and to find an echo in the memorials left by some of the powerful governors, who were now serving loyally under the crown. Ameni, who gives an account of his warlike doings in the south, also tells us that he was a ‘kind master and gentle of heart, a governor who loved his city.’ He ruled for many years in his district of Mah, and he says: ‘I kept back nothing for myself; no little child was vexed through me; no widow was afflicted. I never interfered with the fisherman or troubled the shepherd. There was neither famine nor hunger in my days. I diligently cultivated every field in my district, from the north to the south, to its utmost extent, so that there was food enough for all. I gave to the widow as to the married woman, and I never showed favour to the great above the lowly.’

King and noble may alike have fallen short of their ideal, but at any rate their standard was high, and their words recall those of the departed spirit, who had to declare before Osiris in the judgment-hall of Truth—‘I have not oppressed the miserable; I have not imposed work beyond his power on any officer; I have allowed no master to maltreat his slave; I have caused none to weep or to perish with hunger. I have neither blasphemed the king nor my father, nor have I mocked or despised God in my heart. I have given bread to the hungry, water to him that was athirst, clothes to the naked, and shelter to the wanderer.’ There is a beautiful eulogy somewhere recorded on an Egyptian tomb—‘His love was the food of the poor, the blessing of the weak, the riches of him who had nothing.’

Egypt was probably never more prosperous, nor her people happier, than during the centuries in which the Amenemhats and Usertesens ruled the land. The only reign in which serious warfare occurred was that of Usertesen III. He determined to acquire for Egypt the disputed territory in the south—Ta-Khent (Nubia)—and, with it, its golden treasures. But he did not succeed in finally conquering and driving back the dark-hued tribes until after a very fierce and protracted struggle. He erected fortresses on the southern frontier, and an inscription on the rock proclaimed: ‘This is the southern boundary, fixed in the eighth year of King Usertesen iii. No negro shall be permitted to pass it except for the purpose of bringing vessels laden with their asses, camels, and goats, or of trading by barter in Ta-Khent. To such negroes, on the contrary, every favour shall be shown.’

Vincent Brooks-Day & Son, Lith.

BOATMEN AND CATTLE DRIVERS.

If Usertesen iii. secured one new province for Egypt by the ruthless force of war, his successor, Amenemhat iii., won another by gentler means.

Egypt is, no doubt, what Herodotus called it, the ‘gift’ of the Nile. But for the Nile the burning wastes of Sahara would stretch eastwards without interruption to the Red Sea. By means of the great river and its yearly inundation, the long narrow valley between the Libyan and the Arabian mountains is watered and richly fertilised for the space of several miles; where the inundation ceases the desert sand begins. This long strip of fertile country, together with the Delta into which it expands, constituted Egypt;[24] Khemi (the black country), its people called it from the dark colour of its rich soil, which rewarded the husbandman’s toil with two or three crops a year—crops of a luxuriance difficult for us to realise. The name of Egypt was a synonym for rich fertility: ‘Well watered everywhere,’ we read in Genesis, ‘like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt.’

In the days when the twelfth dynasty ruled, i.e. probably more than 2000 b.c., the average rise of the Nile was more than twenty feet higher than it is at the present day. At the point where Usertesen iii. had erected his frontier fortress, the height attained by the river during many successive inundations is recorded. His successor, Amenemhat iii., not only carefully noted the annual rise, but turned his attention to the great work of controlling the overflow, for the country was liable to suffer severely in case either of an excess or a deficiency.

Westward from the Nile, behind the Libyan hills, lies the valley of Fayoum, about 60 miles distant from Cairo. There the king ordered the excavation of that immense basin or artificial sea known to us as Lake Mœris, and caused it to be connected by canals with the river. Lake Mœris was about 30 miles in circumference, and here the surplus waters were stored, to be distributed by irrigation or withheld, as might be best. The rock-encircled and desolate Fayoum thus became a smiling oasis, full of the most luxuriant vegetation, and alive with busy industry. When the Greek Herodotus visited Egypt, some 2000 years later, Lake Mœris was still in existence, as were also the two pyramids that stood either on its banks or in its centre. A still greater wonder met the eye of the inquiring traveller, and excited his profoundest amazement. This was the vast structure close by Lake Mœris, which the Greeks called the Labyrinth, for what reason it is hard to say. Herodotus tells us of this other gigantic work of Amenemhat iii., that it had twelve courts, with gates opposite each other, and that it contained 3000 chambers, half of which were above and half below ground; the courts were adorned with columns, and the walls covered with inscriptions. This colossal edifice covered a space 1150 feet in length, and 850 in breadth; its purpose is not altogether clear, but there seems some reason to think that it may have been intended for a vast Hall of Assembly. It is all in ruins now. Lepsius, who in 1844 visited the district, which is 25 miles distant from the Nile, states that it had been so arranged that three enormous masses of buildings enclosed a square place 600 feet long by 500 broad, and that in this square once stood the courts and columns mentioned by Herodotus, mighty fragments of which the explorer dug up: upon them was carved the name of the royal builder, Amenemhat iii.

Painting a Statue.

Carving a Statue.

After this peaceful victory, which won for Egypt so fair a province, and adorned it with such marvels of art, there is not much left to record concerning the twelfth dynasty. Its annals are quiet and prosperous throughout, and its art was progressive and beautiful. No man in the kingdom was more honoured than the artist, the man ‘of enlightened spirit and skilfully working hand.’ The office of ‘architect to Pharaoh’[25] was sometimes held by sons and grandsons of the sovereign. There is a remarkable account of a great noble, Mentuhotep, who was a judge and learned in the law, a priest and a warrior. It is recorded of him that, as chief architect of the king, he promoted the worship of the gods, and instructed the inhabitants of the country according to the best of his knowledge, as God had commanded to be done. He protected the unfortunate, and freed him that was in need of freedom. ‘Peace was in the utterances of his mouth, and the learning of the wise Thoth[26] was on his tongue. Very skilful in artistic work, with his own hand he carried out his designs as they ought to be done.’

The beautiful rock-hewn caves of Beni-Hassan bear witness to the rare excellence attained by architecture and sculpture. These tombs and memorial chambers were excavated in a limestone cliff on the east bank of the Nile, 160 miles south of Cairo. They were for generations the burial-place of the illustrious family of the Khnumhoteps, descendants of Ameni ([p. 66]), and hereditary governors of the district. The roofs of these rock tombs are vaulted; at the entrance to the northernmost, where Ameni, head of the family lay, are columns of great beauty, so closely resembling those called Doric 2000 years later that it is difficult not to believe that they served as prototypes. At the entrance to another tomb are columns still more graceful in design; these are purely Egyptian in style, and are formed of slender reeds bound together, and expanding into capitals like papyrus or lotus buds or flowers. Here was buried Khnumhotep, grandson of Ameni, a man of high character and great renown. The walls of the interior are covered with pictorial representations, invaluable for the insight they afford into the daily life of those long past times. Amongst the scenes depicted on the walls of Khnumhotep’s funeral chamber is one of much significance. A family group, consisting of 37 persons, is ushered into the presence of the great Egyptian lord, who receives them standing and surrounded by his dogs. They are Amu—foreigners of the East—and their errand is to bring from the land of Pitshu (Midian) a certain mineral substance from which was prepared a paint for the eyes much used in Egypt. Their faces are wholly unlike the Egyptians; they have aquiline noses and long black beards. They are evidently immigrants come to settle in the land. The men are armed, the women gaily dressed. They bring with them presents—the ibis and gazelle, and the splendid wild goat of the Sinai desert; one of the group is playing on a lyre of antique form. The children are carried in panniers, and women walk by their side; asses laden with baggage bring up the rear.

Vincent Brooks-Day & Son, Lith.

ASIATIC IMMIGRANTS.

This occurred in the sixth year of Usertesen ii., and it was a scene that was very likely often-times repeated. Families of foreigners came to settle in Egypt, attracted by its luxuriant plenty, and gradually developed into colonies. In the Delta more especially, foreigners settled in great numbers. There were colonists bent on peaceful industry, but there were others of a more restless and warlike type. It is possible that some may have been established there since the dark and troubled days that followed the sixth dynasty, when foreign tribes very probably held possession of part at least of the Delta for a time.

Egypt had often maintained a severe conflict on her southern frontier, where the boundary line was now marked by grim fortresses; but if trouble should ever overwhelm the land the storm would assuredly gather in the north-east. Fortresses had been erected there also, and Amenemhat’s wall of defence was still standing, but there was no absolute line of demarcation. The north-east of Egypt was inhabited by many settlers, aliens, who were allied more or less closely in blood to restless and warlike peoples beyond the frontier.

Their presence was but of ill omen to the land of their adoption.

[CHAPTER VII.]

Invasion and Rule of the Hyksos—War of Liberation.

(Circa 2100-1600 b.c.)

The close of the twelfth dynasty was followed at no distant date by confusion and disaster. It appears, indeed, that the succeeding dynasty held for a time, at least nominally, the supremacy of Egypt; but sooner or later we find there was a rival dynasty (the fourteenth) ruling at Xois, in the Delta. To the kings composing it is assigned an average length of reign of little over two years, and this has led some to suppose that they were not in any sense Kings of Egypt, but were ruling in the Delta merely as governors—viceroys of foreign invaders. But all details, all records, fail us here, and we have no account of the events that led up to the crisis, when the long threatening storm broke over the land at last. A warlike race, known to us as the Hyksos,[27] aided no doubt by the wandering tribes beyond the frontier, passed the north-east boundary of Egypt, seized upon the Delta, and set up their kingdom at Avaris, and were doubtless welcomed by the settlers of kindred blood already dwelling in the district. Egypt was weakened by discord; the dissensions of rival dynasties had probably led once more to the breaking up of the kingdom into small principalities; no united opposition could be offered to the invaders, and rival chieftains and kings were forced to acknowledge the supremacy of the stranger at the point of the sword.

The horse is never represented in Egyptian sculptures and drawings previous to this date, and if, as is most probable, the Hyksos invaders were mounted, it would be barely possible for foot soldiery to resist their progress. Memphis fell into their hands, and the Egyptian princes and governors as far south as Thebes were compelled to become their vassals and pay tribute. ‘Under one of our kings,’ says a native writer of later days,[28] in a fragment that has been preserved, ‘it came to pass that God was angry with us, and men came from the East, who subdued our country by force, though we never ventured on a battle with them. When they had gotten our governors under their power, they burnt down our cities and demolished the temples of the gods. Their king lived at Memphis, and made the upper and the lower country pay tribute, and he left garrisons in fitting places. He strengthened Avaris greatly, building walls around it and filling it with armed men. These people and their descendants kept possession of Egypt for 511 years.’

The Egyptians might well have said, to use their favourite phrase, ‘Never had the like been seen since the days of Ra.’ There had been wars on the frontiers, and there had been one long dark period of division and civil war, but during the two or three thousand years that Egypt had been a kingdom no foreign foe had set foot upon her soil. Memphis, the ‘secure and beautiful’ city, had stood in all her splendour, and had never seen a hostile banner unfurled against her. The royal line of Mena had ruled,[29] the worship of the temples of Abydos and of the City of the Sun had prevailed uninterruptedly since the days of the pyramid builders and the ‘old time before them.’ It is a wonderful chapter in the world’s history, and one turns the page with regret. Nor can we be surprised at the burning shame and bitter resentment with which the Egyptians of after times looked back upon those days of disgrace and subjection. As far as it was possible they obliterated every trace of the detested Hyksos supremacy; they chiselled out the names of their kings, and destroyed their monumental records. Very few traces survive, but it is plain, nevertheless, that the conquerors soon adopted Egyptian customs and Egyptian civilisation. The Hyksos kings assumed Egyptian titles and erected magnificent temples. And it is more than likely that the feelings of the native historians, galled and exasperated by the recollection of the harsh supremacy of aliens, considerably exaggerated the tale of the suffering and ruin entailed by their presence.

This period, of about 500 years’ duration, is veiled from us in almost impenetrable darkness. The records left of themselves by the Hyksos Pharaohs were destroyed, and over the rest of the subject land there brooded the darkness of a long-protracted eclipse. The tribute was probably paid, and external quietude and order prevailed.

At length a ray of light dispels the darkness for an instant. ‘It came to pass,’ says an ancient papyrus, ‘that the land of Khemi belonged to the enemy. No one was sovereign lord in the day when that happened. The King Sekenen-Ra ruled in the south, but the enemy ruled in the district of the Amu, and Apepi, their king, was in the city of Avaris; the whole land did him homage with the best of its handiwork. King Apepi took unto him Sutech for lord, refusing to serve any other god in the whole land, and he built for him a temple of enduring workmanship. King Apepi appointed festival days for making sacrifice to Sutech, as in the temple of Ra-harmakhu.’ Here there is a break, after which the manuscript goes on to tell how King Apepi, by the advice of his learned councillors, sent an embassy to the ruler of the south (the tributary native prince, Sekenen-Ra). ‘The ruler of the south said to the messenger, “Who sent thee hither? Why art thou come? Is it to spy out the land?”’ So far as we can gather from the text (which is here again interrupted) the messenger’s reply related merely to the construction of a certain well for cattle, although he adds that ‘sleep had not come to him by day or by night until he had delivered his message.’ ‘The ruler of the south was amazed, and knew not how to reply to the messenger of King Apepi.’ Here another vexatious break occurs in the story.

It is more than likely that a spirit of independence was awakening in the south, under the brave Sekenen-Ra, and even that certain secret preparations for an uprising might have been afoot; so that the Hyksos messenger may, after all, have been neither more nor less than a spy, although apparently charged with nothing but an innocent message concerning a tank. It is at any rate clear that Sekenen-Ra’s heart misgave him. His answer indeed is missing, but we read that ‘the messenger of King Apepi rose to depart to where his royal master was,’ and that the Egyptian chief, who evidently felt that the die was cast, forthwith ‘bade summon his mighty chiefs, his captains and expert guides.’ He repeated to them the whole story of the ‘words King Apepi had sent concerning them. But they were silent, all of them in great dismay, and wist not what to answer him, good or bad.’ Here the papyrus breaks off suddenly, and darkness closes in again.

We are left to guess the sequel, but it seems as though we can see how the prince of the south cast off his allegiance and defied the Hyksos sovereign.

His successors bore the same name as himself, and also his family name of Taa. They were known as Taa the Great and Taa the Victorious, and followed up his bold initiative with vigour and success. It was very slowly, and only by hard fighting and step by step, that Egypt was won back from the stranger. But as these brave chieftains pushed their way northward, one tributary prince after another would take heart and join in the war of liberation. The horse must by this time have been naturalised and made use of throughout the land, and thus one terrible and fatal disadvantage would be removed. Old rivalries and minor jealousies would melt away under the influence of a common need and a common hope. Taa the Victorious prepared a flotilla of Nile vessels, two of which bore the significant names of the ‘North,’ and the ‘Going up into Memphis.’ Doubtless it was under him that the ancient capital was regained, after which all was ready for the final attack, in view of which he had made ready his little navy,—the attack which should drive the foe from his stronghold in the Delta, where by this time he was standing desperately at bay.

Taa the Victorious married his son Kames to the Princess Aah-hotep, an heiress of the ancient line, and it was their son Aahmes who brought the great war of liberation to a triumphant close, and placed upon his brow the double crown of Upper and of Lower Egypt.

[CHAPTER VIII.]

The Eighteenth Dynasty—Queen Hatasu and Thothmes iii.

(Circa 1600-1400 b.c.)

On the east bank of the river, about 50 miles from Thebes, there stood in ancient times a strong fortified city, surrounded by massive walls of such thickness, that chariots might have been driven abreast upon them. Of the city itself nothing survives save ruins; but in the valley that lies eastward, behind the hills, are still to be seen long rows of tombs and memorial sanctuaries, where were laid to rest the heroes of the great war of liberation.

The whole district was ruled by native governors, tributaries of the Hyksos, throughout the whole period of the foreign supremacy, and the daily course of Egyptian life seems to have gone on with but little interruption. The tombs just mentioned belonged chiefly to one family, and the walls are adorned as usual with inscriptions and representations of scenes and events from daily life. Baba-Abana, head of the family, tells us that he was the parent of 52 children, and was able to provide abundant food and every necessary comfort for them all. ‘If any one supposes I am jesting,’ he adds, ‘I invoke the god Munt to witness that I am speaking the truth.’ Baba-Abana was an officer under Taa iii. (the Victorious), and was no doubt actively engaged in helping forward the construction of the Egyptian flotilla. He tells us further of a famine that ‘lasted for many years,’ and that he provided corn for his city each year of the famine. This must have been the same famine that is mentioned in Genesis, when Joseph, at the court of the Hyksos Pharaoh, was providing corn for the land—the famine which led to the establishment of the Hebrew colony in the Goshen district of the Delta. Their presence there would be welcome, as they were no doubt of kindred race with those who then bore rule.

One of the numerous family of Baba-Abana, named Aahmes (like the king), did good service in the fleet during all the closing scenes of the war. He has left us an account of his doings, which opens thus:—‘The Chief of the fleet, Aahmes, son of Abana (the Blessed), speaketh to you all, ye people, that you may know the honours that have fallen to his lot.’ He was born, he tells us, in the city of Nek-heb (the Greek Eileithyia), and as a lad he served King Aahmes on board a ship called the ‘Calf.’ He married, and set up a house, after which he was promoted, ‘because of his strength,’ to another vessel called the ‘North.’ And when the king went out in his chariot, it was the duty of the young captain to follow him on foot. In the siege of the Hyksos stronghold, Avaris, he fought bravely on foot in presence of his majesty. During the siege he was further promoted to the vessel called ‘Going up into Memphis.’

Hard fighting went on around Avaris, and Aahmes tells us of the trophies of the dead[30] he brought in, as well as of his living prisoners. One of the latter he had much difficulty in securing, for he had to drag him some distance with a firm grasp through the water to avoid the road to the town. His prisoners were assigned to him as slaves, and many rewards and golden gifts were presented him for his services. Avaris was taken at length, and the Hyksos driven beyond the frontier, the king pursuing them as far as Sherohan, in Canaan, which town he also captured in the sixth year of his reign.

This was the final act of the long-protracted struggle in the north, but the mountaineers of Nubia were still in arms. There was sharp fighting in the south before the naval captain could record that his majesty ‘had taken possession of the land, both of the north and of the south.’ Aahmes received a gift of some acres of cultivated land in his native district. Later on we find him, as a veteran warrior, accompanying the two succeeding sovereigns on campaigns in the south, where he fought as admiral, at the head of the fleet. His final exploits were performed on a more distant field of battle—the ‘land of the two rivers’—Naharina (Mesopotamia). There he captured a chariot, with its horses and charioteers, for which deed he received for the seventh time a gift in gold. He concludes his story thus:—‘Now I have passed many days, and reached a grey old age. I too shall pass away to Amenti, and I shall rest in the tomb which I have prepared for myself.’ And there may still be seen a portrait of the old sailor and of his wife. He is a ‘bluff, resolute-looking man, not handsome; a short snub nose, and low solid brow—a short beard curling upwards from his chin.’[31]

The three monarchs under whom this distinguished officer served in succession, Aahmes, Amenhotep i., and Thothmes i., were the first three kings of the eighteenth dynasty. Aahmes inherited the throne by right of his mother’s descent from Mena, but he strengthened his position further by himself marrying a princess of the royal line, Nefertari, who was greatly revered by succeeding generations, both as heiress in her own right, and as mother and ancestress of an illustrious dynasty.

The first twenty-two years of the reign of Aahmes were passed in unremitting warfare. After the capture of Sherohan, he followed his foes no farther, but contented himself with erecting fortresses to protect the frontier. He would not feel his supremacy sufficiently assured over the numerous princes and chieftains who had gladly followed his victorious banner against the common foe, but would not have been quite ready when success had been achieved to resign their independent authority. At length, however, the king was able to lay aside his sword, and to turn his attention to the much needed work of restoring and renovating the temples of the gods. Again the limestone quarries were opened, and there are representations now to be seen in the sculptures of the huge blocks drawn along upon rollers by twelve or more oxen on the way to Memphis.

Aahmes left an infant son as heir to the crown, and the royal mother acted as regent until he was of age to reign. Amenhotep i. died young, and did not accomplish much; we learn, however, that during his reign Ta-Khent (Nubia) was mastered—‘the land in its complete extent lay at the feet of the king.’

In the great discovery of coffins and royal mummies, made not far from Thebes in 1881, were brought to light the bodies of Taa the Victorious (the last of the brave Sekenen-Ras), of Aahmes, and of his son Amenhotep i. The conqueror of the Hyksos is enwreathed in garlands and festoons, his young son is swathed in lotus leaves and flowers—amongst them is a perfectly preserved wasp, that must have been accidentally shut in when the coffin-lid was closed more than 3000 years ago. This coffin and its case are in very good preservation; on the lid is an effigy of the young king, which is evidently a portrait. The coffin of Thothmes i. was found, but the mummy was missing.

When Thothmes i. became king, the internal dissensions of Egypt had quieted down, and, after one campaign in the south, the king proceeded to ‘cool his heart’ by undertaking the war on which the mind of the Egyptians was set—a war of retribution and of conquest. In this distant expedition (already alluded to in the memoirs of Aahmes), Thothmes rapidly pushed his way as far as Naharina (Mesopotamia), and returned home laden with treasures and spoil, having exacted a promise of annual tribute from many tribes in many regions. In the memorial chapel of the Thothmes family a sculpture is still remaining to tell of his triumphant home-coming. ‘The soldiers holding branches in their hands, as emblems of peace, step out briskly as they approach their native land, and are met by a deputation of citizens, who slay fat oxen and sheep to feed them with. In the procession figure a couple of tigers, led along by their keepers,’[32] and apparently tame.

The king employed both his prisoners and his gold in continuing the construction of the great temple of Amen-Ra at Thebes. Its foundation had been laid by Amenemhat i. many centuries before, but the building had been hindered, or had altogether stopped, during the long years of foreign rule.

When Thothmes i. died, he left behind him one daughter and two sons, each of whom bore the same name as his father, but the younger of the brothers was only a little child. Their sister Hatasu was a proud ambitious woman, and had already been, to some extent, associated with her father during his reign. When Thothmes ii. succeeded, she was formally associated with him in the government. We read but little about this king; his reign was brief, and he was probably outshone by the energetic partner of his throne. Hatasu, in fact, could ill brook even the slight restraint imposed by his co-regency, and no sooner was he dead than the proud queen, ‘throwing aside her womanly veil, appeared in all the splendour of a Pharaoh—like a born king.’[33] She assumed man’s attire, and was seen on state occasions in the dress and regalia of an Egyptian king—even to the plaited beard. She revered her father, and paid homage to his memory, but on the unfortunate Thothmes ii. she hastened to avenge herself for the wrong he had done her in wearing a crown that was his own; she obliterated every trace of his existence to the best of her ability, and, vindictively erasing his name, she substituted her own. Hatasu also succeeded in having her name inscribed by the priests on the roll of Egyptian sovereigns.

Meantime the boy Thothmes, the rightful king, was sent by order of his imperious sister to the almost inaccessible marshes of the Delta, where he was doomed to wear out the years of his dreary boyhood, cherishing, there can be little doubt, the most vindictive feelings towards the sister who, having usurped his place, was ruling Egypt with splendour and renown.

No reign was more distinguished than that of Hatasu for art and architecture. She completed the magnificent temple begun during her joint reign with her brother. An avenue of sphinxes led up to the gate towers and the obelisks, which were 97 feet in height, and made of red granite capped with gold. The temple itself stood upon four broad and stately terraces, which rose one above another until they touched the dazzling marble-like limestone cliff against which they rested; the terraces were covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions and carvings in bas-relief. In the limestone rock above were excavated vast funeral chambers, and here were buried the queen’s father and mother, a sister who died young, and Thothmes ii. Here also Hatasu herself and Thothmes iii. were laid in due time, but none of these royal mummies have been suffered to remain in peace. To avoid violation and plunder, it became customary some centuries later to examine and to report upon the state of royal tombs and coffins from time to time, and to remove them occasionally to securer resting-places. Thus it came to pass in the great discovery of 1881, the empty coffin of Thothmes i. was found, together with the coffin and mummy of his son and successor, Thothmes ii.

To the architect Semnut, who so successfully carried out the grand conception of the terraced temple, his royal mistress raised a memorial—a statue in black granite in a sitting attitude of calm repose; on his shoulder is the inscription—‘His ancestors were not found in writing,’ i.e. they were unknown men, a not unfrequent phrase in Egyptian inscriptions. Semnut is represented as saying, ‘I loved him, and gained the admiration of the lord of the country. He made me great, and I have become first of the first, clerk of the works above all clerks. I lived during the reign of King Ma-Ka-Ra;[34] may he live for ever!’ No doubt it was the general custom thus to flatter the foible of their sovereign, who was, in fact, designated by a name signifying ‘Lady-King.’

Under the queen’s rule, however, there was an entire cessation of military enterprises, for Hatasu did not so far assume the character of a Pharaoh as to put on armour and lead her troops to the battle-field. Egypt therefore enjoyed unbroken tranquillity during her peaceful and brilliant reign—a reign not only distinguished for the splendour of its architecture, but memorable also for an expedition to the land of Punt. This expedition is portrayed in curious and interesting detail upon the stages of the terraced temple. Long ago we know that the Egyptian imagination had been stirred by the supposed marvels of that ‘sacred land’ of dream and legend. And in the days of Hatasu the expedition sent thither by King Sankhkara, centuries before, would not have been forgotten. By the queen’s command an embassy was despatched to its shores. Princes and lords were intrusted with rich and royal gifts for the purpose of conciliating the people of that land over which the Lady-King desired to establish a supremacy, although not at the sword’s point.

The expedition arrived in safety, and found the people inhabiting little dome-shaped dwellings, supported on piles and approached by ladders, under the shade of their cocoa-nut and incense-trees. The Egyptians, with their strong turn for natural history, were much interested by the novelties they beheld around them, the unfamiliar plants and trees, the strange birds and animals not known in Egypt. All went well. Gifts were exchanged, and the natives promised to acknowledge the supremacy of Egypt, and to send an annual tribute thither. The king of the country appeared on the scene accompanied, say the hieroglyphs, ‘by his enormously fat wife ... an ass serves the fat wife to ride on.’ This lady, the queen of the fairyland of Egyptian fancy, is in truth a painful object to behold; not merely fat but bloated, and swollen in such an extraordinary manner as to render it probable that, although the ‘Queen of Punt,’ she ‘was a leper.’

Soon began the work of packing and of lading the transport vessels with the rare and beautiful products of the land. The busy scene is delineated upon the walls of the temple, and the inscriptions relate how the ‘ships were laden to the uttermost with all the wonderful products of the land of Punt, with the precious woods of the divine land, with heaps of the resin of incense and fresh incense-trees; with ebony and objects carved in ivory and inlaid with gold, with sweet woods and paint for the eyes, with dog-headed apes and long-tailed monkeys, with greyhounds and with leopards, besides some of the natives and their children.’ The Egyptians, on the voyage home, were evidently much taken by the antics of the monkeys, as they sprang about amongst the sails, up and down the rigging. The fresh incense-trees, thirty-one in number, were carefully planted in tubs, and six men were assigned for the transport of each of them to the vessel which was to carry it north for transplantation into another soil.

Several of the princes and chief men of Punt accompanied the expedition on its return, and were received in state by the queen in her male attire. It is a pity we have no records that might convey the impression made by the wonders of Egypt upon the visitors in their turn. The rich treasures they had brought were offered by Hatasu to the god Amen-Ra with gladness and national rejoicings. The queen appeared in royal pomp; the priests carried in solemn procession ‘the sacred bark’ of the deity, before which the youthful Thothmes offered incense; the warriors of Hatasu’s guard followed, bearing branches in their hands as signs of peace, and tumultuous cries of joy rent the air on all sides.

The appearance of Thothmes on the scene proves that the time had come when his claims could no longer be ignored nor he himself be detained amid the distant and dreary marshes of the Delta by the jealous fears of the queen. The sight of the brave and handsome youth who had been King of Egypt by right for fifteen years could hardly fail to win the people’s hearts, and his imperious sister found herself at last compelled to let him take his place at her side, with what long suppressed feelings of rancour and ill-will may be readily imagined.

The coronation of Thothmes iii. was celebrated with all fitting splendour and state, and, for a short time at any rate, the brother and sister ruled jointly. But Hatasu must have felt that her day was over, and after a little while her name silently disappears from the historic records. Of the close of her life we know nothing, but we know that Thothmes, with vindictive satisfaction, chiselled out her name wherever he could find it, and that he always dated the years of his own reign from the time of his brother’s death, ignoring Hatasu’s sovereignty as a usurpation.

The reign of Thothmes, thus reckoned, was a very long one, close upon 54 years, and much of it was passed by the warlike sovereign in other lands and upon distant battle-fields.

Nubia was by this time really an Egyptian province, and was governed by a viceroy, who was often one of the king’s sons. In the gold-yielding districts a miserable population—prisoners, slaves, and criminals, were toiling beneath the scorching sun, extracting the gold from the stubborn stone; which had first to be hewn out, then crushed, and finally the grains of the precious metals to be washed out. Elsewhere the province was peopled by an active race, grouped around the temples, fortresses, and garrison towns, where they found employment, and received abundant supplies of food for their sustenance from Egypt; others were engaged in the navigation of the dangerous cataracts. The natives had grown accustomed to Egyptian rule, and were rapidly adopting Egyptian religion and civilisation. Their chief city Napata was indeed destined to become one day the seat of a strong Egyptian dynasty, and a stronghold of the worship of Amen-Ra.

There was therefore no cause for anxiety concerning the south, and the eyes of the young sovereign turned eagerly to the regions where his father had made his rapid campaign, and acquired military renown and abundant spoil. The policy of ‘extending the frontiers of Egypt’ was no doubt partly dictated by the desire of rendering the country safe from any further invasion, by subduing the neighbouring lands; but it is certain that the vision of establishing an Egyptian empire fascinated the imagination of Thothmes iii., and he was able to realise the dream.

The course of Egyptian history had flowed on century after century, for 2000 or 3000 years, in a sort of majestic solitude, like its own mighty river, which for 1800 miles of its course receives no tributary stream. The people might be said to have ‘dwelt alone.’ The position of the land was isolated and secluded, its people had an innate dislike of the sea, and possessed no sea-going ships; they were perfectly content within the bounds of their own luxuriant domains, and knew and cared very little about the world that lay beyond. The frontiers were well guarded and no foe had crossed them, nor had any vision of conquest or wide-spread empire arisen to dazzle the imagination of the early kings.

The coming of the Hyksos had wrought a great change, and had broken down the barriers of isolation. And the mighty wave of national energy, which, gathering strength as it rose, swept away the foe, did not thus spend all its force. A longing arose for retribution, conquest, empire; the avenging campaign of Thothmes i. had stimulated rather than satisfied a national craving for glory and for wealth. The Pharaohs now emerge from the seclusion of the valley of the Nile, and enter that blood-stained arena—the battle-field of the nations—the Syrian and Mesopotamian lands. But the brilliant successes and far-reaching supremacy of the Egyptian arms ended at last in disaster and decline, from which there was no power of recovery.

Far enough, however, were any such gloomy forebodings from the thoughts of King Thothmes iii., when he mounted his war-chariot and assembled his troops upon the field of Zoan. The tributes promised to his father by the conquered princes had for a long time ceased to be paid. They knew that a female sovereign held the sceptre, and the tribes that had acknowledged the father’s supremacy cast off all fealty to the daughter. The town of Gaza alone had remained faithful to the Egyptian allegiance. Here Thothmes took up his quarters for the night on the twenty-third anniversary of his accession (dating i.e. from his brother’s death). Next morning he left the city, ‘full of power and strength, to conquer the miserable enemy, and to extend the frontiers of Egypt, as his father Amen-Ra had promised him.’

The country known to us as Palestine or Syria was then, as at a later date, divided into several petty kingdoms, each with a fortified capital of its own. The general name by which its inhabitants were known to the Egyptians was that of the Rutennu, and at this moment their various tribes were allied against Egypt under the leadership of the King of Kadesh, and, encamped within and around Megiddo, they were waiting the attack of King Thothmes.

There was a choice of roads before the invading host. One broad highway led along the Mediterranean coast, keeping the sea in sight, until it turned in an easterly direction, and opened out finally upon the wide plain of Kadesh. Another way led along the banks of the Jordan, but it was a dangerous route, often very narrow and amongst thickets, where a foe might easily lurk unseen. After leaving the Jordan it went through the narrow valley of the Orontes until it also reached the capital of the King of Kadesh. Thothmes addressed his army, and told them of the information he had just received concerning the position of the enemy, who had said, ‘I will withstand the King of Egypt at Megiddo.’ ‘And now,’ said the king, ‘tell me the way by which we shall go to break into the city.’ The army with one accord entreated to be led by any way but that which wound along by the Jordan. ‘It has been told us,’ they said, ‘that the foe lies there in ambush, and the way is impassable for a great host; one horse cannot stand there beside another, nor can one man find room by another. The army would be blocked, and be helpless before the enemy. There is a broad way that starts from Aluna, and it offers no opportunity for an attack. Whithersoever our victorious leader goes we will follow him, only we pray that he will not take us by the impassable way.’ Thothmes decided on the broad road, and made the soldiers take an oath that they would not go on in advance of the king with any idea of protecting his person, but would let him take the place of danger at their head. Dismounting from his chariot, he advanced on foot in the forefront of the army. ‘He went forward,’ says the story; ‘his divine father Amen-Ra was before him, and Horus-Hormakhu was at his side.’

In a few days the camp was pitched opposite Megiddo. ‘Keep yourselves ready,’ said the king, ‘look to your arms, for we shall meet the enemy in battle early to-morrow morning.’ And they set the watch, saying, ‘Be of good courage; watch, watch—watch over the life in the king’s tent.’ Next morning the assault was made, but the Canaanites were unable to make a stand against the disciplined valour of the Egyptian troops; they fled at the first onset ‘with terror on their faces.’ The dead ‘lay on the ground like fishes,’ and the fugitives in their haste left behind them their horses and their chariots of gold and silver, and ‘were drawn up by their clothes as by ropes into the fortress.’ The king’s own tent was captured on the field, amidst shouts of joy and of thanks to Amen-Ra. Megiddo itself was taken, and the victor entrenched himself there to await the submission and the tribute of the confederated princes. Then the chiefs of the land came to do homage to the king, and, though the civilisation of the Canaanitish tribes may not have been high, yet there was no lack, at any rate, of a certain splendour at their kings’ courts. They were graciously received by the young conqueror, and laid rich gifts at his feet, gold, silver, and lapis lazuli—wheat, wine, and wool,—besides many suits of brazen armour and chariots plated with gold.

The capture of Megiddo opened the way to the more distant field of Mesopotamia. In former ages that country had been the seat of civilised and highly cultivated states,[35] but these kingdoms had fallen, probably before some foreign conquerors, about the time that the twelfth dynasty was ruling in Egypt. About the period of the Hyksos supremacy there seems to have been an empire established at Babylon which included Assyria as a province; but this again had passed away, and the country was broken up into a number of petty principalities, which it was no hard task for Thothmes to subdue and reduce to some sort of vassalage. Among the Asiatic princes who brought him tribute are named those of Assur and of Babilu.

The supremacy of the Egyptian crown may thus be said to have been acknowledged in some sort over the ‘known world;’ for the Egyptian horizon did not extend beyond the Mediterranean Sea, the Euphrates, and the range of Mount Taurus in Armenia. ‘I have placed the boundaries of Egypt at the horizon,’ said Thothmes iii., ‘and I have set Egypt at the head of all nations, because its people are united with me in the worship of Amen.’

These Asiatic campaigns were often renewed during this long reign; thirteen or fourteen such are recorded. Each was followed by a longer or shorter interval of peace. The principal episodes of the wars were sculptured in bas-relief upon the walls of the great temple at Karnak, where also was inscribed a careful geographical enumeration of the conquered peoples, and a record of the tributes they respectively paid. Full accounts were also preserved in the libraries attached to the temples; but the Egyptian archives have perished, and Egyptian history with them, except so far as it was carved on the enduring stone, or written in the few papyri that have survived the general wreck.

There is an inscription on the tomb of a valiant captain of Thothmes, named Amenemhib, in which he tells us of the campaigns he was engaged in by his master’s side. ‘I never left him,’ he says; ‘great was the valour of his arm.’ Then he records his own deeds, and describes the rich rewards assigned him. Twice he saved the king’s life when in imminent peril. ‘I saw the lord of the two countries in the land of Ni; he was hunting 120 elephants for the sake of their tusks. The largest one of the herd rushed upon his majesty, but I cut his trunk, and escaped through the water between the rocks.’ Another time the King of Kadesh had started a wild horse to run upon the king. ‘I followed him as he dashed among the warriors, and I slew him with my sword, and cut off his tail, which I presented to the king as a trophy.’ In the siege of Kadesh he led the party that stormed the walls. ‘I broke them open; I led all the valiant. None other went before me.’

The return of the king and his army from these distant expeditions was a sort of triumphal procession. No presage or foreboding of future ill troubled the Egyptians as they looked out for the appearance of their hero king and welcomed him with rapturous acclamations. In his train came princes and princesses of Canaan, prisoners of war, and slaves. Slaves formed a portion of the tribute imposed upon the subject countries. Then came horses (amongst them snow-white and bay), wild goats and asses, zebras or humped buffaloes, together with wilder animals of rarer species—tigers, the cinnamon-coloured bear of Mount Taurus, and occasionally a young elephant. The wealth brought home by the conquerors was incalculable. From the fruitful land of Palestine, corn, oil olive, and honey; Phœnicia sent her merchandise gathered in from many lands—gold, silver, and gems; turquoise, ruby, and coral; copper and lead, besides cedar and other fragrant woods. Nor were there wanting specimens of skilled and splendid artistic workmanship. There were chariots richly adorned with silver and gold, costly stuffs and embroidery, and ‘goodly Babylonish garments;’ gold vases from North Palestine are especially mentioned, inlaid with precious stones; flowers were carved upon the rim, and the handles made in the shape of some animal. In addition there was the tribute that flowed in regularly from the South. The friendly inhabitants of Punt sent, in recognition of the Egyptian supremacy, gums and fragrant spices in abundance. Kush was now ruled by an Egyptian viceroy, who took care that the contributions should never fail—negro slaves, long-horned oxen, bloodhounds, apes, panther skins, ostrich eggs, ivory, ebony, and rare trees. The last-named item possessed a special interest for the Egyptians, who had a strong love for natural history. An artist has depicted some wonderful plants, cactuses and water-lilies from the southern lands, and underneath is the inscription:—

‘Here are all sorts of plants and flowers from Ta-nuter. The king speaks thus, “I swear by Ra, I call Amen-Ra to witness that everything is plain truth. What the splendid soil brings forth I have portrayed, to offer it to my father Amen-Ra, in his great temple as a memorial for all time.”’ It is also recorded of Thothmes, at the close of one of his campaigns, that four new species of birds that were brought to him ‘pleased the king more than all the rest.’

As might be expected, Thothmes did not neglect to immortalise his name by erecting or adorning the temples of the gods. His greatest work was the Hall of Columns, which he added to the great Temple of Amen, begun by Amenemhat i., and still incomplete. He appointed ‘feasts of victory’ to be celebrated on the festivals of Amen, thus linking his own name very closely with that of his god, and he enriched the temple with enormous donations, the mere enumeration of which would fill pages. Neither gold nor silver, cedar wood or precious stones, need be spared now when all that the world could offer of rich and rare was flowing in a constant stream to add to the ‘treasures in Egypt.’ Special mention is made, amongst countless other gifts, of a beautiful harp of silver and gold and precious stones, to sing the praises of Amen upon his splendid festival days. We read too of a great barge of cedar wood inlaid with gold[36] for the purpose of receiving the god when conducted in solemn procession down the river. Obelisks were also erected by Thothmes, which were ‘reflected with their splendour on the surface of the sacred lakes like stars upon the bosom of Nut.’ One of them is now standing forlornly on the Thames embankment.

Not only did Thothmes confer these numberless and costly gifts upon the temples, but he endowed them munificently. Gardens and arable lands were assigned them, and a fixed system of contributions for their support was established. He also appointed many of his foreign prisoners to the service of the temples and their gardens. Besides these, there were great numbers that he could employ upon the public works, whilst year by year the slaves who formed a part of the annual tributes came to add to the multitude of poor captives. The service was rigorous, and there can be little doubt that their lives were ‘made bitter.’ There is a representation still existing of a number of these bondmen engaged in brick-making. Their faces are of the Asiatic type, and the following words are added by way of explanation:—‘They work at the building with dexterous fingers; their overseers show themselves in sight. They obey the words of the great skilful lord who directs them. They are rewarded with wine, and all kinds of good things. They are building a sanctuary for the god. The overseer says thus to the labourers: “The stick is in my hand: be not idle.”’

Severe oversight, tempered by free access to the ‘flesh-pots of Egypt’ was then, as at a later date, the portion of those to whom the land of Egypt was the ‘house of bondage.’

Amenhotep presented to Amen-Ra by Horus.

There can be little doubt that the waste of life upon distant battle-fields, the employment of foreign slave labour, and the luxury born of immense accession of wealth, all combined to produce a demoralisation and a weakening of the Egyptian people in due course of time. For the present, however, all was joy and exultation. The king was never weary of extolling the gods who had shown him such distinguished favour, and their goodwill and his devotion are depicted in every possible way. On one obelisk (the obelisk of the Lateran), we see, e.g. the king kneeling and offering wine to Amen-Ra seated on a throne, or adoring the sacred hawk, symbol of Horus, to which he offers flowers, incense, and cakes of white bread. Again, Amen-Ra is seen taking him by the hand in token of his favour and protection, and at a memorial chapel in Nubia, the goddess Isis is represented as about to kiss the Egyptian monarch, whilst in another picture he is seen standing face to face with Sefek, the ‘Lady of Writings.’[37] It is evident, therefore, that it had become customary and familiar to represent the deities, who are but seldom delineated in the pictures and sculptures belonging to the earlier dynasties. They are depicted in various ways. Sometimes it is in human form with some symbol or emblem attached or held in the hand, but very often the head of the deity is represented by that of the animal which, for some reason or other, was his symbol. Thus Horus is seen with a hawk’s head, Thoth with that of an ibis. Isis is delineated not only as a woman, but as a cow, and sometimes as a woman with a cow’s head. The Egyptians never appear to have even attempted to embody the divine majesty or beauty in any statue or picture. But certain objects, animate and inanimate, were regarded as symbolic, and as such were attached to the figures of the gods.[38] Of course they were not intended to be in any sense works of art, which such strange unnatural objects could never be; nor were they regarded as actually representative of the deities, which would have been simply absurd and profane, but they were emblematic signs of the divine attributes and nature, and were understood and recognised as such.

In one tablet at Karnak, Thothmes iii. is depicted offering wine and incense to his father Amen-Ra, and the accompanying inscription is an heroic poem or hymn which must have been composed towards the close of his victorious reign. In it the god himself recounts all that he has brought to pass on behalf of his ‘son.’

‘Come to me,’ he says, ‘and rejoice in beholding my favour towards thee, O my son Men-kheper-Ra,[39] thou who livest for evermore! I am glorified by the vows thou renderest; my heart is glad when thou drawest near to my temple; dear unto me is the piety that has set up mine image within my sanctuary.

‘Lo! I do reward thee—in that I give thee power and victory over all nations, for it is through me that the fear of thee resteth upon the whole earth and extendeth unto the pillars of heaven.

‘I stretch forth my hand—for thee do I gather together the Annu by tens of thousands, and the northern people in myriads. By me have thine enemies been overthrown under thy feet. Thou hast penetrated into every land, but none has dared to set foot within thy borders, though I have protected thy steps when thou wast within their boundaries. Thou hast passed over the broad rivers of Mesopotamia; thy war-cry has re-echoed within the caverns of their hiding-places. I have bereft their nostrils of the breath of life.

‘I am come and I have given thee to smite the princes of Tahi (Syria); I have made them behold thee like the star that flameth and that sendeth down the evening dew.

‘I am come, and I have given thee to smite the Western lands; I have made them behold thee like a young bull valiant in his might—he hath sharpened his horns—none may resist him.

‘I am come, and I have given thee to smite all lands; I have made them behold thee as it were a crocodile: terrible is he exceedingly, and lord of the waters—none dare approach him.

‘I am come, and I have given thee to smite the Tahennu in their islands; I have made them behold thee as a lion in his wrath—he lieth down upon the bodies of his prey and taketh his rest in the valleys.

‘I am come, and I have given thee to smite the dwellers by the water-side that they who abide by the great sea may be subdued beneath thy feet; I have made them behold thee even like the king of birds who marketh his prey from on high, and seizeth upon whatsoever he listeth.

‘I am come, and I have given thee to smite the dwellers in the waste; the Herusha are led captive; I have made them behold thee as it were the jackal of the South—he hunteth throughout the land, and he hideth his path in the darkness.

Vincent Brooks-Day & Son, Lith.

AMENHOTEP ON THE LAP OF A GODDESS.

‘I am he that hath watched over thee—oh my son beloved! Horus crowned in Thebes!’

Thothmes iii. reigned very nearly 54 years. His faithful attendant Amenemhib, whose prowess had saved his master from the elephant and the wild horse, lived long enough to record that master’s end.

‘So after many years of victory and power,’ he says, ‘the King ended his course. He took his flight upwards into heaven and was joined unto the company of Ra. When the morning broke and the sky grew bright then was King Amenhotep (may he live for ever!) seated upon his father’s throne; crowned like Horus, son of Isis, he took possession of Khemi.’

The magnificent terraced temple of Hatasu formed the mausoleum of the Thothmes family; but, like his predecessors, Thothmes the Great has not been suffered to remain undisquieted in the tomb. It was not far off from Hatasu’s temple that his mummy also was discovered. The coffin was much injured, and the mummy itself broken into three pieces—the mutilated remains of this mighty Pharaoh are lying in the Museum at Boulak.

After the death of their conqueror, the kings of Canaan and the princes of Mesopotamia threw off the foreign yoke. Amenhotep ii. overran the country and reduced its inhabitants once more to subjection. It is recorded of him that he smote down and slew seven of the Canaanitish chiefs with his battle-axe, and brought them back with him to Egypt. ‘Six of these enemies,’ says the story, ‘were hung upon the walls of Thebes, and their hands were hung up in the same way;’ the other enemy was brought up the river to Nubia, and hung upon the walls of the town of Napata ‘to show to the people of the land of the negroes for all time the victories of the king over his enemies.’ This is the chief event recorded of the reign of Amenhotep ii., who was succeeded by Thothmes iv.