Egypt remains a light-house in the profound darkness of remote
antiquity.--RENAN.
By far the greater number of the remains of Egyptian civilisation that
have come down to us, are monuments that may be classed as works of
art. Indeed, when one speaks of ancient Egypt, one thinks instinctively
of her art remains; her pyramids, temples, and sphinxes, her obelisks
and colossal sculptures. As one wanders through the halls of such
great collections as those of the British Museum, or of the Louvre, it
seems to him as if art must have been the very life of Egypt, and as
if a considerable proportion of her people must have been engaged in
producing the multitude of monuments that are here preserved. But there
is, of course, a certain illusion in this thought.
The number of art monuments preserved in Egypt is, indeed, very large
in the aggregate, but it must be remembered that they represent the
accumulated treasures of many centuries. Thanks to the climate of
Egypt, a vastly larger proportion of her monuments have been preserved
than have come down to us from any other people of antiquity, and this
fact should be borne constantly in mind when one endeavours to estimate
the real status of art in that country. Now that the results of many
centuries of labour are gathered into a comparatively few collections,
the impression made upon the observer is naturally somewhat different
from what it would have been could he have seen the same monuments in
their original locations scattered throughout the kingdom.
Nevertheless, after making all deductions for the perverted historical
perspective thus induced, the fact remains that we are quite justified
in speaking of the Egyptians as a singularly artistic race. Indeed,
it would be absurd to deny this position to the people who, first of
any on the earth so far as known, created a truly great and truly
individual art.
It has been held a matter for surprise that the Greeks, who so fully
appreciated, and, indeed, so greatly overestimated, the learning and
the occult wisdom of the Egyptians, should have failed to be impressed
by their works of art. But, rightly considered, there is nothing at all
remarkable in this. It must be remembered that Herodotus, who gives us
our earliest glimpses of Egypt through Grecian eyes, lived in the age
of Pericles, when the masterpieces of Phidias and his contemporaries
were constantly before the eyes of the Greek traveller as the criterion
by which other works of art were to be judged. It can hardly be
wondered at that, judged by this test, the Egyptian sculptures did not
seem remarkable. Herodotus had not the spirit of the antiquarian nor of
the modern scientific historian, and he therefore made no allowance for
the fact that the major part of the sculptures visible had been made
almost a thousand years before the age of Phidias; but it is that fact
which the modern investigator should bear constantly in mind.
It would be absurd to claim for the Egyptian statues that they compare
for a moment as finished works of art with the Grecian productions of
the Golden Age. But when one reflects that it was the Egyptians who led
the way and first pointed out the possibility of modelling in stone;
when one reflects that, so far as extant remains can give us any clew,
there were no forerunners of the Egyptians who even remotely approached
their standard; when, in a word, one remembers that this art was an
indigenous product, as nearly independent of outside influences as any
human creations ever can be--then, and then only, is one prepared to
appreciate the real merit of the Egyptian sculptor.
To one who approaches this work merely in the cold spirit of the modern
critic, untouched by the enthusiasm of the antiquarian, the sculpture
of the Egyptians may well be characterised as crude in the extreme.
In the first instance it is cold, rigid, immobile, lacking utterly
the plasticity and action of the Greek product. Secondly, it is but
crudely modelled. No Egyptian artist ever learned to draw in the modern
acceptance of that word, or to model in more than the most elementary
fashion. These, indeed, taken by themselves, are radical defects,
and at first sight they render the Egyptian monuments grotesque,
rather than pleasing, to the trained artistic eye. But when one has
lived long enough among these statues to enter more fully into their
spirit, when one has learned to put away the classical traditions and
to relax somewhat his standards of technique, he will see this work
in quite another light. He will recognise it as the titanic effort of
a constructive genius in that earlier and more truly creative period
when technique has not been mastered, but when a true artistic impulse
is impelling the aspirant towards new and beautiful ideals which he
himself will never quite attain, but to which his work points the way.
It is large work in the fullest sense of the word, this art of the
Egyptians, and he who can get no farther than to note its often faulty
drawing, its imperfect modelling, is forever shut out from a true
appreciation of its merits. But, on the other hand, the dreamer who
sees, as some antiquarians are wont to do, matchless perfections in its
very crudities, and intentional artistic effects in the mere faults of
its technique--this enthusiast misses the true lessons of Egyptian art
as widely as the overcritical and unsympathetic carper.
However much the various schools of critics may differ in their
estimates, the task of the historian at least is clear. He must think
of Egyptian art in its relations of time and place. To him it is
important because of its position in the scale of the evolution of art
in the world. And in this view, putting aside at once hypercriticism
and overfervid enthusiasm, Egyptian art can hardly fail to impress the
observer as one of the most marvellous of human creations.[a]
While Greece was still in its infancy, Egypt had long been the leading
nation of the world; she was noted for her magnificence, her wealth,
and power, and all acknowledged her pre-eminence in wisdom and
civilisation. It is not, therefore, surprising that the Greeks should
have admitted into their early art some of the forms then most in
vogue; and though the wonderful taste of that gifted people speedily
raised them to a point of excellence never attained by the Egyptians or
any others, the rise and first germs of art and architecture must be
sought in the valley of the Nile. In the oldest monuments of Greece,
the sloping or pyramidal line constantly predominates; the columns in
the oldest Greek order are almost purely Egyptian, in the proportions
of the shaft, and in the form of its shallow flutes without fillets;
and it is a remarkable fact that the oldest Egyptian columns are those
which bear the closest resemblance to the Greek Doric.
[Illustration: TEMPLE ON THE ISLAND OF PHILÆ]
Though great variety was permitted in objects of luxury, as furniture,
vases, and other things depending on caprice, the Egyptians were
forbidden to introduce any material innovations into the human figure,
such as would alter its general character; and all subjects connected
with religion retained to the last the same conventional type. A god in
the latest temple was of the same form as when represented on monuments
of the earliest date; and King Menes would have recognised Amen, or
Osiris, in a Ptolemaic or a Roman sanctuary. In sacred subjects the law
was inflexible; and religion, which has frequently done so much for
the development and direction of taste in sculpture, had the effect of
fettering the genius of Egyptian artists. No improvements, resulting
from experience and observation, were admitted in the mode of drawing
the human figure; to copy nature was not allowed; it was therefore
useless to study it, and no attempt was made to give the proper action
to the limbs. Certain rules, certain models, had been established by
the priesthood; and the faulty conceptions of ignorant times were
copied and perpetuated by every successive artist. For, as Plato and
Synesius say, the Egyptian sculptors were not suffered to attempt
anything contrary to the regulations laid down regarding the figures of
the gods; they were forbidden to introduce any change, or to invent new
subjects and habits; and thus the art, and the rules which bound it,
always remained the same.
Egyptian bas-relief appears to have been, in its origin, a mere copy of
painting, its predecessor. The first attempt to represent the figures
of gods, sacred emblems, and other subjects consisted in drawing, or
painting, simple outlines of them on a flat surface, the details being
afterwards put in with colour; but in process of time these forms
were traced on stone with a tool, and the intermediate space between
the various figures being afterwards cut away, the once level surface
assumed the appearance of a bas-relief. It was, in fact, a pictorial
representation on stone, which is evidently the character of all the
bas-reliefs on Egyptian monuments; and which readily accounts for the
imperfect arrangement of their figures.
Deficient in conception, and above all in a proper knowledge of
grouping, they were unable to form those combinations which give true
expression; every picture was made up of isolated parts, put together
according to some general notions, but without harmony, or preconceived
effect. The human face, the whole body, and everything they introduced,
were composed in the same manner of separate members placed together
one by one according to their relative situations: the eye, the nose,
and other features composed a face, but the expression of feelings
and passions was entirely wanting; and the countenance of the king,
whether charging an enemy’s phalanx in the heat of battle, or peaceably
offering incense in a sombre temple, presented the same outline and
the same inanimate look. The peculiarity of the front view of an eye,
introduced in a profile, is thus accounted for: it was the ordinary
representation of that feature added to a profile, and no allowance was
made for any change in the position of the head.
It was the same with drapery: the figure was first drawn, and the
drapery then added, not as part of the whole, but as an accessory; they
had no general conception, no previous idea of the effect required to
distinguish the warrior or the priest, beyond the impressions received
from costume, or from the subject of which they formed a part; and the
same figure was dressed according to the character it was intended
to perform. Every portion of a picture was conceived by itself, and
inserted as it was wanted to complete the scene; and when the walls
of the building, where a subject was to be drawn, had been accurately
ruled with squares, the figures were introduced, and fitted to this
mechanical arrangement. The members were appended to the body, and
these squares regulated their form and distribution, in whatever
posture they might be placed.
[Illustration]
The proportions of the human figure did not continue always the same.
During the IVth and other early dynasties it differed from that of the
Augustan age of the XVIIIth and XIXth; and another change took place
under the Ptolemies. The chief alteration was in the height of the knee
from the ground, which was higher during the XVIIIth and XIXth than
in the ancient and later periods. The whole height of the figure in
bas-reliefs and paintings was then divided into nineteen parts; and the
wall having been ruled in squares, according to its intended size, all
the parts of it were put in according to their established positions;
the knee, for instance, falling on the sixth line. But the length of
the foot was not, as in Greece, the standard from which they reckoned;
for being equal to 3 spaces, it could not be taken as the base of 19;
though the height of the foot being 1 might answer for the unit.
In the paintings of the tombs greater license was allowed in the
representation of subjects relating to private life, the trades,
or the manners and occupations of the people; and some indication
of perspective in the position of the figures may occasionally be
observed: but the attempt was imperfect, and, probably, to an Egyptian
eye, unpleasing; for such is the force of habit, that even where nature
is copied, a conventional style is sometimes preferred to a more
accurate representation.
In the representation of animals, they appear not to have been
restricted to the same rigid style; but genius once cramped can
scarcely be expected to make any great effort to rise, or to succeed
in the attempt; and the same union of parts into a whole, the same
preference for profile, and the same stiff action, are observable in
these as in the human figure. Seldom did they attempt to draw the face
in front, either of men or animals; and when this was done, it fell far
short of the profile, and was composed of the same juxtaposition of
parts. It must, however, be allowed, that in general the character and
form of animals were admirably portrayed; the parts were put together
with greater truth; and the same conventionality was not maintained, as
in the shoulders and other portions of the human body.
The mode of representing men and animals in profile is primitive, and
characteristic of the commencement of art: the first attempts made
by an uncivilised people are confined to it; and until the genius of
artists bursts forth, this style continues to hold its ground. From its
simplicity it is readily understood; the most inexperienced perceive
the object intended to be represented, and no effort is required to
comprehend it. Hence it is that, though few combinations can be made
under such restrictions, those few are perfectly intelligible.
As the wish to record events gave the first, religion gave the second,
impulse to sculpture. The simple pillar of wood or stone, which was
originally chosen to represent the deity, afterwards assumed the
human form, the noblest image of the power that created it; though
the _Hermæ_ of Greece were not, as some have thought, the origin of
statues, but were borrowed from the mummy-shaped gods of Egypt.
Pausanias thinks that “all statues were in ancient times of wood,
particularly those made in Egypt”; but this must have been at a period
so remote as to be far beyond the known history of that country; though
it is probable that when the arts were in their infancy, the Egyptians
were confined to statues of that kind; and they occasionally erected
wooden figures in their temples, even till the times of the latter
Pharaohs.
[Illustration: HEAD
(Now in the British Museum)]
Long after men had attempted to make out the parts of the figure,
statues continued to be very rude; the arms were placed directly
down the sides to the thighs, and the legs were united together; nor
did they pass beyond this imperfect state in Greece until the age of
Dædalus. Fortunately for themselves and for the world, the Greeks were
allowed to free themselves from old habits; while the Egyptians, at
the latest periods, continued to follow the imperfect models of their
early artists, and were forever prevented from arriving at excellence
in sculpture: and though they made great progress in other branches
of art, though they evinced considerable taste in the forms of their
vases, their furniture, and even in some architectural details, they
were forever deficient in ideal beauty, and in the mode of representing
the natural positions of the human figure.
In Egypt, the prescribed automaton character of the figures effectually
prevented all advancement in the statuary’s art, the limbs being
straight, without any attempt at action, or, indeed, any indication
of life: they were really statues of the person they represented,
not the person “living in marble”; in which they differed entirely
from those of Greece. No statue of a warrior was sculptured in the
varied attitudes of attack and defence; no wrestler, no _discobolus_,
no pugilist exhibited the grace, the vigour, or the muscular action
of a man; nor were the beauties, the feeling, and the elegance of
female forms displayed in stone: all was made to conform to the same
invariable model, which confined the human figure to a few conventional
postures.
A sitting statue, whether of a man or woman, was represented with the
hands placed upon the knees, or held across the breast; a kneeling
figure sometimes supported a small shrine or sacred emblem; and when
standing, the arms were placed directly down the sides of the thighs,
one foot (and that always the left) being advanced beyond the other, as
if in the attitude of walking, but without any attempt to separate the
legs.
[Illustration: STATUETTE OF FIGURE WITH HAWK’S HEAD
(After Bardon)]
The oldest Egyptian sculptures on all large monuments were in low
relief, and, as usual at every period, painted (obelisks and everything
carved in hard stone, some funereal tablets, and other small objects,
being in intaglio); and this style continued in vogue until the time of
Ramses II, who introduced intaglio very generally on large monuments;
and even his battle scenes at Karnak and the Memnonium are executed
in this manner. The reliefs were little raised above the level of the
wall; they had generally a flat surface with the edges softly rounded
off, far surpassing the intaglio in effect; and it is to be regretted
that the best epoch of art, when design and execution were in their
zenith, should have abandoned a style so superior; which, too, would
have improved in proportion to the advancement of that period.
Intaglio continued to be generally employed, until the accession of the
XXVIth Dynasty, when the low relief was again introduced; and in the
monuments of Psamthek and Aahmes are numerous instances of the revival
of the ancient style. This was afterwards universally adopted, and a
return to intaglio on large monuments was only occasionally attempted,
in the Ptolemaic and Roman periods.
After the accession of the XXVIth Dynasty some attempt was made to
revive the arts, which had been long neglected; and independent of
the patronage of government, the wealth of private individuals was
liberally employed in their encouragement. Public buildings were
erected in many parts of Egypt, and beautified with rich sculpture; the
city of Saïs, the royal residence of the Pharaohs of that dynasty, was
adorned with the utmost magnificence; and extensive additions were made
to the temples of Memphis, and even to those of the distant Thebes.
The fresh impulse thus given to art was not without effect; the
sculptures of that period exhibit an elegance and beauty which
might even induce some to consider them equal to the productions of
an earlier age; and in the tombs of Assassif, at Thebes, are many
admirable specimens of Egyptian art. To those, however, who understand
the true feeling of this peculiar school, it is evident that though in
minuteness and finish they are deserving of the highest commendation,
yet in grandeur of conception and in boldness of execution, they fall
far short of the sculptures of Seti and the second Ramses.
[Illustration: FISHING WITH A DRAG NET
(Wilkinson)]
The skill of the Egyptian artists in drawing bold and clear outlines
is, perhaps, more worthy of admiration than anything connected
with this branch of art; and in no place is the freedom of their
drawing more conspicuous than in the figures in the unfinished part
of Belzoni’s tomb at Thebes. It was in the drawing alone that they
excelled, being totally ignorant of the correct mode of colouring a
figure; and their painting was not an imitation of nature, but merely
the harmonious combination of certain hues, which they well understood.
Indeed, to this day, the harmony of positive colours is thoroughly felt
in Egypt and the East; and it is strange to find the little perception
of it in northern Europe, where theories take upon themselves to
explain to the mind what the eye has not yet learned, as if a grammar
could be written before the language is understood.
Egyptian architecture evidently derived much from the imitation of
different natural productions, as palm trees and various plants of
the country; but Egyptian columns were not borrowed from the wooden
supports of the earliest buildings. Columns were not introduced
into the interior of their houses until architecture had made very
great progress; the small original temple and the primitive dwelling
consisted merely of four walls; and neither the column nor its
architrave were borrowed from wooden constructions nor from the house.
And though the architrave was derived in Egypt, as elsewhere, from
constructed buildings, that member originated in the stone beam,
reaching from pillar to pillar in the temples. And if the square stone
pillar was used in the quarry, the stone architrave was unknown to the
Egyptians until they found reason to increase the size of, and add a
portico to, their temples. And that the portico was neither a necessary
nor an original part of their temples is plainly shown by the smaller
sanctuaries being built, even at the latest times, without it. Some
members of Egyptian architecture, it is true, were derived from the
woodwork of the primitive house or temple, as the overhanging cornice
and the torus that runs up the ends of the walls, which it separates
from the cornice, the former being the projecting roof of palm
branches, and the other the framework of reeds bound together, which
secured the mud (or bricks) composing the walls.
As painted decoration preceded sculpture, the ornaments (in later times
carved in stone) were at first represented in colour, and the mouldings
of Egyptian monuments were then merely painted on the flat surfaces
of the walls and pillars. The next step was to chisel them in relief.
The lotus blossom, the papyrus head, water-plants, the palm tree, and
the head of a goddess, were among the usual ornaments of a cornice,
or a pillar; and these favourite devices of ancient days continued in
after times to be repeated in relief, when an improved style of art
had substituted sculpture for the mere painted representation. But
when the square pillar had been gradually converted into a polygonal
shape, the ornamental devices not having room enough upon its narrow
facettes, led to the want and invention of another form of column; and
from that time a round shaft was surmounted by the palm-tree capital,
or by the blossom or the bud of the papyrus, which had hitherto only
been painted, or represented in relief, upon the flat surfaces of a
square pillar. Hence the origin of new orders differing so widely from
the polygonal column.
For the capitals the Egyptians frequently selected objects which were
favourites with them, as the lotus and other flowers, and these,
as well as various animals or their heads, were adopted, to form a
cornice, particularly in their houses and tombs, or to ornament fancy
articles of furniture and of dress.
In this they committed an error, which the Greeks, with a finer
perception of taste and adaptability, rightly avoided. These refined
people knew that in architecture conventional devices had a much more
pleasing effect than objects merely copied from nature; for, besides
the incongruity of an actual representation of flowers to compose
mouldings and other decorative parts of architecture, the imperfect
imitation in an unsuitable material has a bad effect.
[Illustration: CARVED EGYPTIAN CHAIRS
(Now in the British Museum)]
The ceilings of Egyptian temples were painted blue and studded with
stars, to represent the firmament (as in early European churches);
and on the part over the central passage, through which the king and
the religious processions passed, were vultures and other emblems;
the winged globe always having its place over the doorways. The
whole building, as well as its sphinxes and other accessories, were
richly painted; and though a person unaccustomed to see the walls of a
large building so decorated, might suppose the effect to be far from
pleasing, no one who understands the harmony of colours will fail to
admit that they perfectly understood their distribution and proper
combinations, and that an Egyptian temple was greatly improved by the
addition of painted sculptures.
Gilding was employed in the decoration of some of the ornamental
details of the building; and was laid on a purple ground, to give it
greater richness; an instance of which may be seen in the larger temple
at Kalabshi, in Nubia. It was sparingly employed, and not allowed to
interfere, by an undue quantity, with the effect of the other colours;
which they knew well how to introduce in their proper proportions; and
such discords as light green and strawberry-and-cream were carefully
avoided.
The Egyptians showed considerable taste in the judicious arrangement
of colours for decorative purposes; they occasionally succeeded in
form, as in the shapes of many of their vases, their furniture, and
their ornaments; and they had still greater knowledge of proportion,
so necessary for their gigantic monuments; but though they knew well
how to give to their buildings the effect of grandeur, vastness, and
durability, they had little idea of the beautiful; and were far behind
the Greeks in the appreciation of form. It is, however, rare to find
any people who combine colour, form, and proportion; and even the
Greeks occasionally failed to attain perfection in their beautiful
vases, some of which are faulty in the handles and the foot.
[Illustration: RUINS OF AN EGYPTIAN TEMPLE]
Among the peculiarities of Egyptian architecture, one of the most
important is the studied avoidance of uniformity in the arrangement
of the columns, and many of the details. Of these some are evident to
the eye, others are only intended to have an influence on the general
effect, and are not perceptible without careful examination. Thus the
capitals of the columns in the great hall at Karnak are at different
heights, some extending lower down the shaft than others; evidently
with a view to correct the sameness of symmetrical repetition, and to
avoid fatiguing the sight with too much regularity. This is not to be
perceived until the eye is brought on a level with the lower part of
the capitals; and its object was only effect, like that of many curved
lines introduced in a Greek temple, as at the Parthenon.
But the Egyptians often carried their dislike of uniformity to an
extreme, beyond even what is justified by the study of variety.
Where they avoided that extreme their motive was legitimate; and it
is remarkable that they were the first people whose monuments offer
instances of that diversity so characteristic of Saracenic and Gothic
architecture.
The arch was employed in Egypt at a very early period; and crude
brick arches were in common use in roofing tombs at least as early as
Amenhotep I, in the sixteenth century before our era. And since one was
discovered at Thebes bearing his name, others have been found of the
age of Tehutimes III (his fourth successor) and of Ramses V. It even
seems to have been known in the time of the XIIth Dynasty, judging from
what appear to be vaulted granaries at Beni-Hasan.[b]
Egyptian architecture was long a marvel to the later world, since it
was so thoroughly overscrolled with strange designs of animals, and
gods, and symbols that provoked a helpless curiosity. These figures,
graceful as they were, were not of merely decorative import. They were
less art than literature; less literature than chronicle: in a word,
they were the characters of a strange system of writing.
THE HIEROGLYPHICS
It is extremely difficult to give in brief space, or, indeed, to give
at all, a clear idea of the exact character of this Egyptian writing,
which for so many centuries fascinated, while puzzling, the observers,
utterly baffling all their efforts to decipher it. The Egyptians were
the aristocrats of antiquity. It is true that the Greeks described all
non-Hellenic nations as barbarians, but it should not be inferred from
this that the Greeks applied to this term the exact significance it
has come to have in more recent times. What the Greek really seems to
have implied was that the speech of all other nations was barbarous or
unintelligible; but he by no means regarded all other nations as less
civilised than himself. To be sure, he did hold this attitude towards
Romans, Persians, Scythians and various other contemporary nations, but
he made an exception in the case of the Babylonians, and particularly
in the case of the Egyptians. The latter people, indeed, he regarded
with something akin to reverence, as a people who could claim an
antiquity of civilisation to which Greece could not at all pretend.
The wise men of Greece, as we have seen, travelled in Egypt and sat at
the feet of the Egyptian priests. There is nothing to show that they
were not received courteously, but there are many evidences that they
were given no more than a half-hearted welcome, and that what they
gained of Egyptian lore was but a surface knowledge; for the Egyptians,
like the Greeks, regarded all other nations as barbarians, and it would
seem that they applied this term with the full weight of its modern
meaning. To them the Greeks, no less than their other neighbours,
were uninteresting parvenus, unworthy of the serious regard of an
aristocratic people. It is believed that in the early days all commerce
of outside nations with Egypt was as fully interdicted as could be
done by Egyptian laws. At a later period the outsiders made forcible
intrusion, and, in time, apparently the Egyptians became partially
reconciled to this new order of things. But it was long before any
scholars from the outer world were permitted to penetrate the Egyptian
mysteries. In particular, we have no evidence that any Greek or Roman
of the early day ever had the slightest comprehension of the true
character of Egyptian writing.
Listen for example to the strange theories of Claudius Ælianus, the
Roman historian of the third century, who solemnly explained the
hieroglyphics as follows--to quote the quaint diction of a sixteenth
century translation:[a]
“BY WHAT CHARACTERS, PICTURES, AND IMAGES, THE LEARNED EGIPTIANS
EXPRESSED THE MYSTERIES OF THEIR MINDES
“When they would signifie wrathe and fury, they set downe the image
of a Lyon. When they would signifie talke, they set downe the figure
of a toung. When they would signifie fleshly pleasure, they set down
the number of XVI. When they would signifie lerning, they set down
the picture of Dew dropping from the clowdes. By a Kat they meane
destruction. By a Flye, they meane shamelesnes. By the Ant running into
the Corne, they meane provision. By a man walking in water without
a hed, they meane a thing unpossible. By a swarme of Bees following
the maister Bee, they signifie obedient subjects. By a man hiding his
privy members with his hands, they meane Temperance. By the floures of
Poppy, they signifie sicknes. By an armed man shooting in a Bowe of
steele, they meane Rebellion. By an Eagle flying against the Sun, they
meane windy weather. By an Owle standing uppon a tree, they signifie
death. By a Lace tyed in many knots, they meane mutual Love. By Bookes
and Scrowles, they meane Auncientnes. By a Ladder set against a Castle
wall, they meane a seedge about a Town or a Fortresse. By a Mule,
they signifie a Woman with a barrain wombe. By a Mole, they meane
blindnesse. By a Lapwing sitting uppon a Cluster of Grapes, they meane
a plentiful Vintage. By a Sceptre and an eye on the top thereof looking
downwarde, they meane power and polisie. By a Spindle ful of thred
broken of from the Distaf, they mean the shortnes of mans life.”[e]
This is very absurd, yet nothing more rational was known of the subject
in classical times. The very name which the Greeks supplied to the
strange Egyptian script shows their ignorance of it. They called it
hieroglyphics, from ἱερός, sacred, γλύφειν, to carve, implying their
belief that this writing was purely of a sacred character, which, it
is now well known, is by no means the case. It would seem as if in
the later day, when, after the death of Alexander, Egypt came under
the rule of the Macedonian Ptolemies, there must have been Greeks
who acquired a knowledge of the Egyptian writing, just as there were
undoubtedly Egyptians who learned Greek. Yet the number of these was
probably more limited than one might suppose, for the Greeks were the
Frenchmen of antiquity; imbued with a reverential love of their own
language, they were little given to acquiring any other. Even so, it
would seem that there must have been, here and there, an inquiring
mind, which would take up the study of the hieroglyphics and ferret
out their secrets under the guidance of Egyptian tutors; but if such
there were, few records of their accomplishments have come down to us,
and none at all that can serve to give the slightest clew to the true
character of the strange inscriptions.
About the beginning of our era, Egypt having become a Roman province,
all its personal life was stamped out. The hieroglyphic language was
no longer written or read. Long before that, the language of the
people had been greatly modified from its ancient purity, and in the
day of Egypt’s greatness it was only the scholarly few, chiefly the
priests, who could read and write the language. Now the speech became
still further modified, until finally, through the slow mutations of
time, modern Coptic has developed as its lineal descendant. In the
early days, however,--probably before the time of the oldest extant
records,--the original picture writing, or hieroglyphics proper,
had been modified into a sort of running script, which the Greeks
called hieratic; and this again had undergone another modification
some four or five centuries before our era, in the development of a
script, called enchorial or demotic, which in the day of the Ptolemies
represented the language of the Egyptian people. But after the complete
disruption of Egypt under the Romans, the hieratic and demotic forms
of the writing, as well as the hieroglyphics proper, ceased to be
employed; and presently, as has been said, all three forms became quite
unintelligible to any person living. From that time on, until the early
days of the nineteenth century, the records of Egypt, preserved so
numerously on their monuments, on the papyrus rolls and mummy-cases,
were a closed book. No man lived, during this period, in Egypt or out
of Egypt, who did more than effect the crudest guess at the meaning of
this strange writing.
For something like two thousand years the Egyptian language was a
dead language in the fullest sense of the term, and the records,
locked imperishably in the hieroglyphics, seemed likely to hold their
mysterious secret from the prying minds of all generations of men.
But then, in the early days of the nineteenth century, the key was
unexpectedly found, and, to the delight of the scholarly world, the
Egyptian Pandora box was opened.[a]
THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX
This came about through a study of the famous Rosetta stone, an
Egyptian monument now preserved in the British Museum. On this stone
three sets of inscriptions are recorded. The upper one, occupying about
a fourth of the surface, is a pictured scroll, made up of chains of
those strange outlines of serpents, hawks, lions, and so on, which
are recognised, even by the least initiated, as hieroglyphics. The
middle inscription, made up of lines, angles, and half-pictures, one
might suppose to be a sort of abbreviated or shorthand hieroglyphic.
It is called the enchorial or demotic character. The third, or lower,
inscription is manifestly Greek. It is now known that these three
inscriptions are renderings of the same message, and that this message
is a “decree of the Priests of Memphis conferring divine honours on
Ptolemy V, Epiphanes, King of Egypt, B.C. 195.”
“This stone was found by the French in 1798 among the ruins of Fort St.
Julian, near the Rosetta mouth of the Nile. It passed into the hands
of the British by the treaty of Alexandria, and was deposited in the
British Museum in the year 1801.”
The value of the Rosetta stone depended on the fact that it gave
promise, even when originally inspected, of furnishing a key to the
centuries-old mystery of the hieroglyphics. For two thousand years the
secret of these strange markings had been forgotten. Nowhere in the
world--quite as little in Egypt as elsewhere--had any man the slightest
clew to their meaning; there were even those who doubted whether
these droll picturings really had any specific meaning, questioning
whether they were not merely vague symbols of esoteric religious import
and nothing more. And it was the Rosetta stone that gave the answer
to these doubters, and restored to the world a lost language and a
forgotten literature.
The trustees of the British Museum recognised that the problem of the
Rosetta stone was one on which the scientists of the world might well
exhaust their ingenuity, and they promptly published to the world a
carefully lithographed copy of the entire inscription, so that foreign
scholarship had equal opportunity with British to try to solve the
riddle. How difficult a riddle it was, even with this key in hand, is
illustrated by the fact that, though scholars of all nations brought
their ingenuity to bear upon it, nothing more was accomplished for a
dozen years than to give authority to three or four guesses regarding
the nature of the upper inscriptions, which, as it afterwards proved,
were quite incorrect and altogether misleading. This in itself is
sufficient to show that ordinary scholarship might have studied the
Rosetta stone till the end of time without getting far on the track of
its secrets. The key was there, but to apply it required the inspired
insight--that is to say, the shrewd guessing power--of genius.
The man who undertook the task had perhaps the keenest scientific
imagination and the most versatile profundity of knowledge of his
generation--one is tempted to say, of all generations. For he was none
other than the extraordinary Dr. Thomas Young, the demonstrator of the
vibratory nature of light.
Young had his attention called to the Rosetta stone by accident, and
his usual rapacity for knowledge at once led him to speculate as to the
possible aid this trilingual inscription might give in the solution of
Egyptian problems. Resolving at once to attempt the solution himself,
he set to work to learn Coptic, which was rightly believed to represent
the nearest existing approach to the ancient Egyptian language. His
amazing facility in the acquisition of languages stood him in such good
stead that within a year of his first efforts he had mastered Coptic,
had assured himself that the ancient Egyptian language was really
similar to it, and had even made a tentative attempt at the translation
of the Egyptian scroll. His results were only tentative, to be sure.
Yet they constituted the very beginnings of our knowledge regarding the
meaning of hieroglyphics. Just how far they carried, has been a subject
of ardent controversy ever since. Not that there is any doubt about the
specific facts; what is questioned is the exact importance of these
facts. For it is undeniable that Young did not complete and perfect
the discovery, and, as always in such matters, there is opportunity
for difference of opinion as to the share of credit due to each of the
workers who entered into the discovery.
Young’s specific discoveries were these: (1) that many of the pictures
of the hieroglyphics stand for the names of the objects actually
delineated; (2) that other pictures are sometimes only symbolic; (3)
that plural numbers are represented by repetition; (4) that numerals
are represented by dashes; (5) that hieroglyphics may read either from
the right or from the left, but always from the direction in which the
animals and human figures face; (6) that proper names are surrounded
by a graven oval ring, making what he called a cartouche; (7) that the
cartouches of the preserved portion of the Rosetta stone stand for the
name of Ptolemy alone; (8) that the presence of a female figure after
such cartouches, in other inscriptions, always denotes the female
sex; (9) that within the cartouches the hieroglyphic symbols have a
positively phonetic value, either alphabetic or syllabic, and (10) that
several different characters may have the same phonetic value.
[Illustration: THE ROSETTA STONE
(Original in British Museum, London)]
Just what these phonetic values are, Dr. Young pointed out in the case
of fourteen characters, representing nine sounds, six of which are
accepted to-day as correctly representing the letters to which he
ascribed them, and the three others as being correct regarding their
essential or consonantal element. It is clear, therefore, that he
was on the right track thus far, and on the very verge of complete
discovery. But, unfortunately, he failed to take the next step, which
would have been to realise that the phonetic values given to the
characters within the cartouches were often ascribed to them also
when used in the general text of an inscription; in other words, that
the use of an alphabet was not confined to proper names. This was the
great secret which Young missed, but which his French successor, Jean
François Champollion, working on the foundation that Young had laid,
was enabled to ferret out.
Young’s initial studies of the Rosetta stone were made in 1814; his
later publications bore date of 1819. Champollion’s first announcement
of results came in 1822; his second and more important one in 1824.
By this time, through study of the cartouches of other inscriptions,
he had made out almost the complete alphabet, and the “Riddle of the
Sphinx” was practically solved. He proved that the Egyptians had
developed a relatively complete alphabet (mostly neglecting the vowels,
as early Semitic alphabets did also) centuries before the Phœnicians
were heard of in history. What relation this alphabet bore to the
Phœnician, we shall have occasion to ask in another connection; for the
moment it suffices to know that these strange pictures of the Egyptian
scroll are really letters.
Even this statement, however, must in a measure be modified. These
pictures are letters and something more. Some of them are purely
alphabetical in character, and some are symbolic in another way.
Some characters represent syllables. Others stand sometimes as mere
representatives of sounds, and again, in a more extended sense, as
representatives of things, such as all hieroglyphics doubtless were
in the beginning. In a word, this is an alphabet, but not a perfected
alphabet such as modern nations are accustomed to; hence the enormous
difficulties and complications it presented to the early investigators.
Champollion did not live to clear up all the mysteries of the
hieroglyphics. His work was taken up and extended by his pupil
Rosellini, and in particular by Richard Lepsius in Germany; followed
by M. Renouf, and by Samuel Birch, of the British Museum, and more
recently by such well-known Egyptologists as MM. Maspero, Mariette,
and Chabas, in France; Drs. Brugsch, Meyer, and Erman in Germany; Dr.
E. A. Wallis Budge, the present head of the Department of Oriental
Antiquities at the British Museum, and Professor W. M. Flinders Petrie.
But the work of later investigators has been largely one of exhumation
and translation of records, rather than of finding methods.
Let us now turn more specifically to the writing itself. A glance shows
that the objects delineated are, as might be expected, those which
were familiar to the people that originated the writing. Here we see
Egyptian hawks, serpents, ibises, and the like, and the human figure,
depicted in the crude yet graphic way characteristic of Egyptian
art. But in addition to these familiar figures there are numerous
conventionalised designs. These also, there is reason to believe, were
originally representations of familiar objects, but, for convenience
of rendering, the pictures have been supplanted by conventionalised
designs. It is now known that this writing of the Egyptians was of a
most extraordinary compound character. Part of its pictures are used
as direct representations of the objects presented. But let us examine
some examples:
[Illustration: _mat_ eye. _maui_ eyes. _pau_ birds.]
But, again, the picture of an object may stand for some idea symbolised
by that object, thus becoming an ideograph, as in the following
instances:
[Illustration: _net_ honey. _ba_ soul. _pet_ to see.]
Here the sacred ibis or the sacred bull symbolises the soul. The bee
stands for honey, the eyes for the verb “to see.”
Yet again the Egyptian pictures may stand neither as pictures of
things, nor as ideographs, but as having the phonetic value of a
syllable.
[Illustration: _pa_ the. _meh_ to fill. _pet_ the sky or heaven. _χu_
to protect. _t´a_ male.]
Such syllabic signs may be used either singly, as above, or in
combination, as we shall see illustrated in a moment.
But one other stage of evolution is possible; namely, the use of signs
with a purely alphabetical significance. The Egyptians made this
step also, and their strangely conglomerate writing makes use of the
following alphabet:
[Illustration: _a_ _ȧ_ _ạ̄_ _i_ _u_ _b_ _p_ _f_ _m_ _n_ _r and l_ _h_
_ḥ_ _χ (kḥ)_ _s_ _ś (sh)_ _k_ _q_ _ḳ_ _t_ _ṭ_ _θ (th)_ _t´ (tch)_]
In a word, then, the Egyptian writing has passed through all the stages
of development, from the purely pictorial to the alphabetical, but with
this strange qualification--that while advancing to the later stages
it retains the use of the crude earlier forms. As Canon Taylor has
graphically phrased it, the Egyptian writing is a completed structure,
but one from which the scaffolding has not been removed.
The next step would have been to remove the now useless scaffolding,
leaving a purely alphabetical writing as the completed structure.
Looking at the matter from the modern standpoint, it seems almost
incredible that so intelligent a people as the Egyptians should have
failed to make this advance. Yet the facts stand, that as early as the
time of the Pyramid Builders, say 4000 years B.C., the Egyptians had
made the wonderful analysis of sounds without which the invention of
an alphabet would be impossible. They had set aside certain of their
hieroglyphic symbols and given them alphabetical significance. They
had learned to write their words with the use of this alphabet; and it
would seem as if, in the course of a few generations, they must come
to see how unnecessary was the cruder form of picture writing which
this alphabet would naturally supplant; but in point of fact they
never did come to a realisation of this seemingly simple proposition.
Generation after generation, and century after century, they continued
to use their same cumbersome, complex writing, and it remained for an
outside nation to prove that an alphabet pure and simple was capable of
fulfilling all the conditions of a written language.
Thus in practice there is found in the hieroglyphics the strangest
combination of ideographs, syllabic signs, and alphabetical signs or
true letters, used together indiscriminately.
It was, for example, not at all unusual after spelling a word
syllabically or alphabetically to introduce a figure giving the idea of
the thing intended, and then even to supplement this with a so-called
determinative sign or figure:
[Illustration: _qeften_ monkey. _qenu_ cavalry. _temati_ wings. _t´ātu_
quadrupeds.]
Here _qeften_, monkey, is spelled out in full, but the picture of a
monkey is added as a determinative; second, _qenu_, cavalry, after
being spelled is made unequivocal by the introduction of a picture of a
horse; third, _temati_, wings, though spelled elaborately, has pictures
of wings added; and fourth, _tatu_, quadrupeds, after being spelled,
has a picture of a quadruped, and then the picture of a hide, which is
the usual determinative of a quadruped, followed by three dashes to
indicate the plural number.
These determinatives are in themselves so interesting, as illustrations
of the association of ideas, that it is worth while to add a few more
examples. The word _pet_, which signifies “heaven,” and which has also
the meaning “up” or “even,” is represented primarily by what may be
supposed to be a conventionalised picture of the covering to the earth.
But this picture used as a determinative is curiously modified in the
expression of other ideas, as it symbolises “evening” when a closed
flower is added, and “night” when a star hangs in the sky, and “rain or
tempest” when a series of zigzag lines, which by themselves represent
water, are appended.
[Illustration: _māśer_ evening. _kekiu_ darkness. _ḳerḥ_ night. _ḥai_
rain. _śenār_ tempest.]
As aids to memory such pictures are obviously of advantage, but this
advantage, in the modern view, is outweighed by the cumbrousness of the
system of writing as a whole.
Why was such a complex system retained? Chiefly, no doubt, because the
Egyptians, like all other highly developed peoples, were conservatives.
They held to their old method after a better one had been invented,
just as half the Western world to-day holds to an antiquated system of
weights and measures after a far simpler system of decimals has been
introduced. But this inherent conservatism was enormously aided, no
doubt, by the fact that the Egyptian language, like the Chinese, has
many words that have a varied significance, making it seem necessary,
or at least highly desirable, either to spell such words with different
signs, or, having spelled them in the same way, to introduce the varied
determinatives.
Here are some examples of discrimination between words of the same
sound by the use of different signs:
[Illustration: _pa_ the. _paut_ nine. _pa_ house. _paut_ stuff, matter.
_paut_ company. _paut_ good. _paut_ cycle.]
Here, it will be observed, exactly the same expedient is adopted which
we still retain when we discriminate between words of the same sound by
different spelling, as, to, two, too; whole, hole; through, threw, etc.
But the more usual Egyptian method was to resort to determinatives; the
results seem to us most extraordinary. After what has been said, the
following examples will explain themselves:
[Illustration: _un_ to be. _un_ to open. _un_ shrine. _un_ appearance.
_un_ lightness. _un_ shaved. _un_ to pull out hair.
_pet_ the sky. _pet_ heaven & earth. _pet_ heaven earth & hell. _pet_
to see. _pet_ to open out, to extend. _pet_ a kind of unguent.]
It goes without saying that the great mass of people in Egypt were
never able to write at all. Had they been accustomed to do so, the
Egyptians would have been a nation of artists. Even as the case
stands, a remarkable number of men must have had their artistic sense
considerably developed, for the birds, animals, and human figures
constantly presented on their hieroglyphic scrolls are drawn with a
degree of fidelity which the average European of to-day would certainly
find far beyond his skill.[d]
LITERATURE
The literary remains of Egypt have come to us through two channels,
one of these being the inscriptions on walls and monuments, to which
reference has just been made, and the other the papyrus rolls that
constituted books proper. Of course the main body of the monumental
inscriptions can only by courtesy be said to belong to the literature
of the country. For the most part they are records of political and
religious affairs such as hardly come within the domain of literature.
On the other hand, there are certain examples of a more distinctly
literary character.
One of the most important illustrations of this class of inscription
is a poem which recounts certain of the deeds of Ramses the Great, in
particular the great fight which this monarch made against the Kheta
or Hittites. We have quoted it in the chapter devoted to Ramses II.
There are other monumental inscriptions that have a purely historical
character, inasmuch as they give lists of names of the kings of the
various dynasties. Unfortunately, no one of these chronological
inscriptions is complete. The same is true of the most important
historical document on papyrus--a document known as the Turin papyrus
because it is preserved in the museum in that city. It is worth noting,
however, that these chronological lists, as far as they go, tend to
support the list of Manetho, to which reference has previously been
made. These lists of Manetho, it will be recalled, have come down to us
only through certain excerpts made by Josephus and others, the original
work having been lost in its entirety. But a comparison of these
lists at second-hand with the original Egyptian documents has shown,
as Professor Petrie remarks, what a real history the work of Manetho
must have been, and how great a deprivation its loss is to the modern
historian.
The papyrus rolls on which most of the literary remains of Egypt are
inscribed are true books. The book of folded leaves is a comparatively
modern invention. Throughout antiquity, including the classical times,
the roll constituted the only form of book in use, unless, indeed,
we include waxen tablets, which are hardly to be considered books
in the proper sense of the word; at least it is not known that they
were ever used for the transcription of lengthy works to be placed on
sale, though it is probable that authors used them, at least for the
rough drafts of their compositions. It is well known that in later
classical times the parchment roll came to be substituted for the roll
of papyrus, though the latter held its own for a long time, and was
still employed exceptionally in the Middle Ages; but the old Egyptian
parchment was unknown, and though inscriptions were sometimes made on
pieces of linen, the regular material for book-making was papyrus.
The papyrus sheet was made by gluing together pieces of the outer rind
or bark of the stem of the papyrus plant, these pieces being placed in
two layers and dried under pressure. The sheets of papyrus were from
six or eight to about fourteen inches in width, and were often many
feet in length. The inscription, made with a reed pen, not altogether
unlike a modern quill, was written in columns at right angles to the
length of the papyrus sheet, these columns being of varying width, but
usually of a size convenient for the scribe in writing and for the
reader. If we may judge from a statue that has been preserved, the
scribe at work sat with his feet crossed like a modern tailor. Papyrus
is, of course, a very fragile and perishable substance; therefore it
is only in the dry climate of Egypt that documents of this nature are
likely to be preserved. Thanks to the unusual atmosphere of Egypt,
however, large numbers of these documents have come down to us,
some of them dating from the third millennium B.C. These documents
represent various classes of literature. Of historical writings, the
most important is the Turin papyrus, already referred to. A still more
ancient document is known as the Prisse papyrus, being named after
its discoverer, Prisse d’Avenne. Is is virtually a series of essays
containing moral precepts and dissertations on the art of right living.
Aside from its contents, this particular papyrus roll has unusual
interest because it shows us the hieratic writing of the Egyptians in
its oldest known form, the hieratic character being a much modified
cursive form of hieroglyphic simplified in the interest of rapid
writing. It was believed by the French philologist, De Rougé, that
this hieratic character formed the basis of the Phœnician alphabet,
and a large number of scholars have accepted this conclusion, which,
however, is now seemingly about to be abandoned. Other essays of the
Egyptians, on medical and mathematical subjects, have been preserved in
considerable numbers.
[Illustration: STATUE OF A SCRIBE (FIFTH DYNASTY)
(Now in the Louvre)]
There is yet another form of literary production that is abundantly
represented among the papyrus documents. This is the religious work
known as the _Book of the Dead_, a book that was substantially the
Bible of the Egyptians, numerous copies of which in whole or in part
are still in existence. An additional interest attaches to many copies
of the _Book of the Dead_ in the fact that pictures are introduced to
illustrate the narrative. One is prone to think of book illustration
as a relatively modern art; but in point of fact, as these documents
prove, it is an art that was practised by the ancient Egyptians more
than two thousand years before the Christian era.
From a purely literary standpoint, the most important remains preserved
on papyrus are the various more or less perfect copies of romances
and of poems. The romances are somewhat of the character of what we
should call fairy tales, though elements of realism are not lacking in
some of them; and the poems include love songs and other lyrics. It is
extremely difficult to judge the artistic merits of productions in so
alien a tongue, and it has been noted by Egyptologists that certain
recitals were apparently very popular in Egypt, the merits of which are
lost upon the modern interpreter, because even the greatest of modern
students can hardly claim a degree of proficiency in the language that
suffices for the appreciation of the niceties of usage. There are
certain of the tales and poems, however, which in point of conception,
thought, and construction must be admitted to have conspicuous merit,
even when judged by modern standards.
As soon as the tales of ancient Egypt had been recovered in sufficient
number to allow some idea of its popular literature, it was seen
that stories of travel and adventure formed a considerable portion.
But for a long time no tale of the sea came to light. In fact, it
seemed doubtful that such a one existed. The Greek and Latin writings
constantly reiterate the statement that the Egyptians regarded the sea
as impure, and that none would venture on it of his own will, and upon
this authority modern investigators had a well-formed theory that Egypt
never had a navy or native sailors.
To them Queen Hatshepsu’s voyages of exploration and the naval
victories of Ramses III were the deeds of hired Phœnicians. But the
discovery of a tale at St. Petersburg--a tale which takes us far
back to the XIIth Dynasty, before any Phœnicians had yet appeared on
the shores of the Mediterranean, or Egypt had any thought of Syrian
conquest--tends to upset these old ideas, and lead us to the belief
that the sailors whom Pharaoh sent for the perfumes and goods of Arabia
were native born Egyptians.
The tale of _The Castaway_ was discovered in the Imperial Hermitage
Museum at St. Petersburg by M. Golenischeff in 1880. No one knows where
the papyrus was found, or how it got in Russia, or even came to be in
the Hermitage Museum. It has taken its place as a classic of the XIIth
Dynasty, as that of the _Two Brothers_ is of the XIXth.
On reading it, one immediately thinks of _Sindbad the Sailor_,
except that the serpents it was Sindbad’s fortune to meet were far
from being the amiable creatures described by the Egyptian sailor.
There is, indeed, no very good reason to consider the famous tale of
the _Thousand and One Nights_ as a modern version of the Egyptian
narrative. The sailors’ love for the recital of marvellous adventure is
too natural, too far-spread, for us to fasten the one upon the other.
The tale of _The Castaway_ seems clearly to be a theological idea
dressed up in romance form. The mysterious island is the Isle of the
Double, _i.e._ the home of dead souls, and the serpent is its guardian.
The voyage describes the long journey to the other world--that trip on
the mysterious western sea, and the final reaching of the home of the
soul. The basic conception of the whole thing is typically Egyptian.
Perhaps our estimate of Egyptian literature cannot be completed
better than by the presentation of the actual text of this romance.
Our version is from G. Maspero’s rendering of M. Golenischeff’s
translation of the original papyrus in the Imperial Hermitage Museum,
St. Petersburg.[a]
THE CASTAWAY: A TALE OF THE TWELFTH DYNASTY
The learned attendant said: “Rejoice thy heart, O my chief, for we
have just reached the fatherland; after having manned the prow of the
ship and worked the oars, the prow has grazed the sand. All our men
are rejoicing and embracing each other, for if others beside ourselves
have come safely home, not a man among us is missing, and, moreover,
we have gone to the farthest limits of Uauat, and have crossed the
regions of Senmut. Here we are returned in peace, and here we are back
in our fatherland. Listen, O my chief, for if thou dost not uphold
me, I have no support. Wash thee, pour water over thy hands, then go,
address thyself to Pharaoh, and may thy heart preserve thy speech from
confusion, for if a man’s mouth may save him, on the other hand, his
words may cause his face to be covered over;[12] act according to the
impulse of thy heart, and anything thou mayest say will put me at ease.
“Now I shall relate to thee what happened to me personally. I set out
for the mines of Honhem, and went to sea in a ship one hundred and
fifty cubits long and forty wide, with one hundred and fifty of the
best sailors in the land of Egypt, men who had seen heaven and earth,
and whose hearts were stouter than those of lions. They had foretold
that the wind would not be unfavourable, or that we would have none at
all; but a gust of wind sprang up as soon as we were on the deep, and
as we approached the shore, the breeze freshened and stirred the waves
to a height of eight cubits. As for myself, I seized a plank, but the
rest perished, without one remaining. A wave of the sea threw me upon
an island after I had spent three days with no other companion than
my own heart. I lay down to rest in a thicket, and darkness enveloped
me; then I employed my legs in search of something for my mouth. I
found figs and grapes and many kinds of fine vegetables, berries, nuts,
melons of all kinds, fish, birds,--nothing was lacking. I satisfied
my hunger, and threw away the surplus of what I had gathered. I dug a
ditch, lit a fire, and prepared a sacrifice to the gods.
“Suddenly I heard a voice like thunder, caused, as I believed, by a
wave of the sea. The trees trembled, the earth shook; I uncovered my
face, and saw that a serpent was approaching. He was thirty cubits
long, with a beard that hung down for over two cubits; his body was as
if incrusted with gold on a colour of lapis lazuli. He planted himself
before me, opened his mouth, and while I remained dumbfounded before
him, he said:
“‘What has brought thee, what has brought thee, little one, what has
brought thee? If thou delayest to tell me what has brought thee to this
isle, I will make thee know what thou art; either thou shalt disappear
like a flame, or thou shalt tell me something I never before have
heard, and which I knew not before.’ Then he seized me in his mouth,
carried me to his lair, and laid me down unharmed; I was safe and sound
and whole.
“Then he opened his mouth, and while I remained speechless before him,
he said, ‘What has brought thee, what has brought thee, little one, to
this isle which is in the sea and whose shores are in the midst of the
waves?’
“I replied with arms hanging low before him.[13] I said: ‘I embarked
for the mines, by Pharaoh’s order, in a ship one hundred and fifty
cubits long and forty wide. It was manned by one hundred and fifty of
the best sailors of the land of Egypt, who had seen heaven and earth,
and whose hearts were stouter than those of the gods. They had declared
that the wind would not be unfavourable, or even that there would be
none at all, for each one of them surpassed his companions in the
prudence of his heart and the strength of his arms, and I, I yielded to
them in nothing; but a storm arose while we were on the deep, and as we
approached the shore the gale still freshened and threw up the waves to
a height of eight cubits. As for myself, I seized a plank, but the rest
on the ship perished and not one remained with me during three days.
And now here I am with thee, for I was cast on this isle by a wave of
the sea.’
“Thereupon he said to me: ‘Fear not, fear not, little one, let not thy
face show sorrow. If thou art here with me, it is because God has let
thee live. ’Tis he who has brought thee to the Isle of the Double,
where nothing is lacking, and which is filled with all good things.
Behold; thou shalt pass month after month here until thou hast stayed
four months in this isle, then a ship shall come from thy country with
sailors; thou mayest then depart with them to thy country and thou
shalt die in thy native city. Let us talk and be happy; whosoever
enjoys chatting can support misfortune; let me tell thee what there
is on this island. I am here surrounded by my brothers and children,
together we are seventy-five serpents, children and retainers, without
including a young girl whom Fortune sent me, on whom the fire of heaven
fell and burnt to ashes. As for thee, if thou art strong and thy heart
is patient thou shalt yet press thy children to thy heart and embrace
thy wife; thou shalt again behold thy house, and best of all thou shalt
reach thy country and be among thy people.’ Then he bowed to me and I
touched the ground before him. ‘Now this is what I have to tell thee on
this subject, I shall describe thee to Pharaoh and make thy greatness
known to him. I shall send thee paint and offertory perfumes,[14]
pomades, cinnamon, and incense employed in the temples, the kind that
is offered to the gods. I shall also tell all that, thanks to thee,
I was enabled to see, and the whole nation together shall give thee
thanks. For thee I shall slay asses in sacrifice. I shall pluck birds
for thee, and send ships to thee filled with all the marvels of Egypt,
as if to a god, friend of men in a distant country which men know not.’
“He smiled at what I said on account of what was on his heart, and
said: ‘Thou art not rich in essences, for all that thou hast enumerated
unto me is naught after all but incense, while I, I am lord of the land
of Punt, and there have I plenty of essences. But the offertory perfume
of which thou speakest of sending me is not plentiful in this isle; but
when once thou leavest it, never shalt thou see it again, for it shall
be changed into waves.’
“And behold the ship appeared as he had predicted. I perched myself
upon a high tree to try to distinguish who were on it. I hastened to
tell him the news, but found that he knew it already; and he said to
me, ‘Good journey, good journey home, little one, let thine eyes rest
upon thy children, and may thy name remain fair in thy city--these are
my wishes for thee.’ Then I bent before him with low-hanging arms, and
he gave me presents of essences, offertory perfume, pomade, cinnamon,
thuya, sapan wood, powdered antimony, cypress, ordinary incense in
great quantity, elephants’ teeth, greyhounds, baboons, green monkeys,
and all kinds of good and precious things. I put all on board the ship
that had come, and prostrating myself, I offered him worship. He said
to me, ‘Behold, thou shalt arrive in thy country after two months, thou
shalt press thy children to thy heart and thou shalt lie in thy tomb.’
And after that I went down to the shore towards the ship and called to
the sailors on board. I gave thanks on the shores to the lord of the
isle as well as to those who lived upon it.
“When we had come, the second month, to the city of Pharaoh, just
as the other had predicted, we drew near the palace. I entered unto
Pharaoh, and gave him all the presents I had brought into the country
from that island, and he thanked me before the assembled people.
That is why he made an attendant of me, and let me join the king’s
courtiers. Look upon me, now that I have reached the shore once more,
and having seen and undergone so much. Hear my prayer, for it is good
to listen to people. Some one said to me, ‘Become a learned man, my
friend, thou wilt arrive at honours,’ and behold I have arrived.”
This is taken from beginning to end as it is found in the book. Who
has written it is the scribe with nimble fingers. Ameni-Amen-aa, Life,
Health, Strength.[c]
[Illustration: COSTUME OF A QUEEN OF ANCIENT EGYPT]
FOOTNOTES
[12] Possibly an allusion to the custom of covering the faces of
criminals while they were being led to the scaffold. The order, “Cover
his face,” was equivalent to a condemnation.--M. MASPERO.
[13] This is the attitude in which the monuments represent suppliants
or inferiors before their masters.--MASPERO.
[14] Hakonu was one of the seven canonical oils which were offered to
the gods and departed spirits during sacrifice.--MASPERO.