THE TEMPERAMENT OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS.
A certain school geography book, now out of date, condenses its remarks
upon the character of our Gallic cousins into the following pregnant
sentence: "The French are a gay and frivolous nation, fond of dancing
and red wine." The description would so nearly apply to the ancient
inhabitants of Egypt, that its adoption here as a text to this chapter
cannot be said to be extravagant. The unbiassed inquirer into the
affairs of ancient Egypt must discover ultimately, and perhaps to his
regret, that the dwellers on the Nile were a "gay and frivolous people,"
festive, light-hearted, and mirthful, "fond of dancing and red wine,"
and pledged to all that is brilliant in life. There are very many
people, naturally, who hold to those views which their forefathers held
before them, and picture the Egyptians as a sombre, gloomy people;
replete with thoughts of Death and of the more melancholy aspect of
religion; burdened with the menacing presence of a multitude of horrible
gods and demons, whose priests demanded the erection of vast temples for
their appeasement; having little joy of this life, and much uneasy
conjecture about the next; making entertainment in solemn gatherings and
ponderous feasts; and holding merriment in holy contempt. Of the five
startling classes into which the dictionary divides the human
temperament, namely, the bilious or choleric, the phlegmatic, the
sanguine, the melancholic, and the nervous, it is probable that the
first, the second, and the fourth would be those assigned to the ancient
Egyptians by these people. This view is so entirely false that one will
be forgiven if, in the attempt to dissolve it, the gaiety of the race is
thrust before the reader with too little extenuation. The sanguine, and
perhaps the nervous, are the classes of temperament under which the
Egyptians must be docketed. It cannot be denied that they were an
industrious and even a strenuous people, that they indulged in the most
serious thoughts, and attempted to study the most complex problems of
life, and that the ceremonial side of their religion occupied a large
part of their time. But there is abundant evidence to show that, like
their descendents of the present day, they were one of the least gloomy
people of the world, and that they took their duties in the most buoyant
manner, allowing as much sunshine to radiate through their minds as
shone from the cloudless Egyptian skies upon their dazzling country.
It is curiously interesting to notice how general is the present belief
in the solemnity of this ancient race's attitude towards existence,
and how little their real character is appreciated. Already the reader
will be protesting, perhaps, that the application of the geographer's
summary of French characteristics to the ancient Egyptians lessens in no
wise its ridiculousness, but rather increases it. Let the protest,
however, be held back for a while. Even if the Egyptians were not always
frivolous, they were always uncommonly gay, and any slight exaggeration
will be pardoned in view of the fact that old prejudices have to be
violently overturned, and the stigma of melancholy and ponderous
sobriety torn from the national name. It would be a matter of little
surprise to some good persons if the products of excavation in the Nile
Valley consisted largely of antique black kid gloves.
[Illustration: PL. VIII. Two Egyptian boys decked with flowers and a
third holding a musical instrument. They are
standing against the outside wall of the
Dendereh Temple.]
[_Photo by E. Bird._
Like many other nations the ancient Egyptians rendered mortuary service
to their ancestors, and solid tomb-chapels had to be constructed in
honour of the more important dead. Both for the purpose of preserving
the mummy intact, and also in order to keep the ceremonies going for as
long a period of time as possible, these chapels were constructed in a
most substantial manner, and many of them have withstood successfully
the siege of the years. The dwelling-houses, on the other hand, were
seldom delivered from father to son; but, as in modern Egypt, each
grandee built a palace for himself, designed to last for a lifetime
only, and hardly one of these mansions still exists even as a ruin.
Moreover the tombs were constructed in the dry desert or in the solid
hillside, whereas the dwelling-houses were situated on the damp earth,
where they had little chance of remaining undemolished. And so it is
that the main part of our knowledge of the Egyptians is derived from a
study of their tombs and mortuary temples. How false would be our
estimate of the character of a modern nation were we to glean our
information solely from its churchyard inscriptions! We should know
absolutely nothing of the frivolous side of the life of those whose bare
bones lie beneath the gloomy declaration of their Christian virtues. It
will be realised how sincere was the light-heartedness of the Egyptians
when it is remembered that almost everything in the following record of
their gaieties is derived from a study of the tombs, and of objects
found therein.
Light-heartedness is the key-note of the ancient philosophy of the
country, and in this assertion the reader will, in most cases, find
cause for surprise. The Greek travellers in Egypt, who returned to their
native land impressed with the wonderful mysticism of the Egyptians,
committed their amazement to paper, and so led off that feeling of awed
reverence which is felt for the philosophy of Pharaoh's subjects. But in
their case there was the presence of the priests and wise men eloquently
to baffle them into the state of respect, and there were a thousand
unwritten arguments, comments, articles of faith, and controverted
points of doctrine heard from the mouths of the believers, to surprise
them into a reverential attitude. But we of the present day have left to
us only the more outward and visible remains of the Egyptians. There are
only the fundamental doctrines to work on, the more penetrating notes of
the harmony to listen to. Thus the outline of the philosophy is able to
be studied without any complication, and we have no whirligig of
priestly talk to confuse it. Examined in this way, working only from
cold stones and dry papyri, we are confronted with the old "Eat, drink,
and be merry," which is at once the happiest and most dangerous
philosophy conceived by man. It is to be noticed that this way of
looking at life is to be found in Egypt from the earliest times down to
the period of the Greek occupation of the country, and, in fact, until
the present day. That is to say, it was a philosophy inborn in the
Egyptian,--a part of his nature.
Imhotep, the famous philosopher of Dynasty III., about B.C. 3000, said
to his disciples: "Behold the dwellings of the dead. Their walls fall
down, their place is no more; they are as though they had never
existed"; and he drew from this the lesson that man is soon done with
and forgotten, and that therefore his life should be as happy as
possible. To Imhotep must be attributed the earliest known exhortation
to man to resign himself to his candle-end of a life, and to the
inevitable snuffing-out to come, and to be merry while yet he may. There
is a poem, dating from about B.C. 2000, from which the following is
taken:--
"Walk after thy heart's desire so long as thou livest.
Put myrrh on thy head, clothe thyself in fine linen,
anoint thyself with the true marvels of God.... Let not
thy heart concern itself, until there cometh to thee that
great day of lamentation. Yet he who is at rest can hear
not thy complaint, and he who lies in the tomb can
understand not thy weeping. Therefore, with smiling face,
let thy days be happy, and rest not therein. For no man
carrieth his goods away with him; "O, no man returneth
again who is gone thither."
Again, we have the same sentiments expressed in a tomb of about B.C.
1350, belonging to a certain Neferhotep, a priest of Amen. It is quoted
on page 235, and here we need only note the ending:
"Come, songs and music are before thee. Set behind thee
all cares; think only upon gladness, until that day
cometh whereon thou shalt go down to the land which
loveth silence."
A Ptolemaic inscription quoted more fully towards the end of this
chapter reads: "Follow thy desire by night and by day. Put not care
within thy heart."
The ancient Egyptian peasants, like their modern descendants, were
fatalists, and a happy carelessness seems to have softened the
strenuousness of their daily tasks. The peasants of the present day in
Egypt so lack the initiative to develop the scope of their industries
that their life cannot be said to be strenuous. In whatever work they
undertake, however, they show a wonderful degree of cheerfulness, and a
fine disregard for misfortune. Their forefathers, similarly, went
through their labours with a song upon their lips. In the tombs at
Sakkâra, dating from the Old Empire, there are scenes representing
flocks of goats treading in the seed on the newly-sown ground, and the
inscriptions give the song which the goat-herds sing:--
"The goat-herd is in the water with the fishes,--
He speaks with the _nar_-fish, he talks with the pike;
From the west is your goat-herd; your goat-herd is from the west."
The meaning of the words is not known, of course, but the song seems to
have been a popular one. A more comprehensible ditty is that sung to the
oxen by their driver, which dates from the New Empire:--
"Thresh out for yourselves, ye oxen, thresh out for yourselves.
Thresh out the straw for your food, and the grain for your masters.
Do not rest yourselves, for it is cool to-day."
Some of the love-songs have been preserved from destruction, and these
throw much light upon the subject of the Egyptian temperament. A number
of songs, supposed to have been sung by a girl to her lover, form
themselves into a collection entitled "The beautiful and gladsome songs
of thy sister, whom thy heart loves, as she walks in the fields." The
girl is supposed to belong to the peasant class, and most of the verses
are sung whilst she is at her daily occupation of snaring wild duck in
the marshes. One must imagine the songs warbled without any particular
refrain, just as in the case of the modern Egyptians, who pour out their
ancient tales of love and adventure in a series of bird-like cadences,
full-throated, and often wonderfully melodious. A peculiar sweetness and
tenderness will be noticed in the following examples, and though they
suffer in translation, their airy lightness and refinement is to be
distinguished. One characteristic song, addressed by the girl to her
lover, runs--
"Caught by the worm, the wild duck cries,
But in the love-light of thine eyes
I, trembling, loose the trap. So flies
The bird into the air.
What will my angry mother say?
With basket full I come each day,
But now thy love hath led me stray,
And I have set no snare."
Again, in a somewhat similar strain, she sings--
"The wild duck scatter far, and now
Again they light upon the bough
And cry unto their kind;
Anon they gather on the mere--
But yet unharmed I leave them there,
For love hath filled my mind."
Another song must be given here in prose form. The girl who sings it is
supposed to be making a wreath of flowers, and as she works she cries--
"I am thy first sister, and to me thou art as a garden
which I have planted with flowers and all sweet-smelling
herbs. And I have directed a canal into it, that thou
mightest dip thy hand into it when the north wind blows
cool. The place is beautiful where we walk, because we
walk together, thy hand resting within mine, our mind
thoughtful and our heart joyful. It is intoxicating to me
to hear thy voice, yet my life depends upon hearing it.
Whenever I see thee it is better to me than food and
drink."
One more song must be quoted, for it is so artless and so full of human
tenderness that I may risk the accusation of straying from the main
argument in repeating it. It runs:--
"The breath of thy nostrils alone
Is that which maketh my heart to live.
I found thee:
God grant thee to me
For ever and ever."
It is really painful to think of these words as having fallen from the
lips of what is now a resin-smelling lump of bones and hardened flesh,
perhaps still unearthed, perhaps lying in some museum show-case, or
perhaps kicked about in fragments over the hot sand of some
tourist-crowded necropolis. Mummies are the most lifeless objects one
could well imagine. It is impossible even for those whose imaginations
are most powerful, to infuse life into a thing so utterly dead as an
embalmed body; and this fact is partly responsible for that atmosphere
of stark, melancholy, sobriety and aloofness which surrounds the affairs
of ancient Egypt. In reading these verses, it is imperative for their
right understanding that the mummies and their resting-places should be
banished from the thoughts. It is not always a simple matter for the
student to rid himself of the atmosphere of the museum, where the beads
which should be jangling on a brown neck are lying numbered and labelled
on red velvet; where the bird-trap, once the centre of such feathered
commotion, is propped up in a glass case as "D, 18,432"; and where even
the document in which the verses are written is the lawful booty of the
grammarian and philologist in the library. But it is the first duty of
an archæologist to do away with that atmosphere.
Let those who are untrammelled then, pass out into the sunshine of the
Egyptian fields and marshes, where the wild duck cry to each other as
they scuttle through the tall reeds. Here in the early morning comes our
songstress, and one may see her as clearly as one can that Shulamite of
King Solomon's day, who has had the good fortune to belong to a land
where stones and bones, being few in number, do not endanger the
atmosphere of the literature. One may see her, her hair moving in the
breeze "as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead"; her teeth
white "as a flock of shorn sheep which came up from the washing," and
her lips "like a thread of scarlet." Through such imaginings alone can
one appreciate the songs, or realise the lightness of the manner in
which they were sung.
With such a happy view of life amongst the upper classes as is
indicated by their philosophy, and with that merry disposition amongst
the peasants which shows itself in their love of song, it is not
surprising to find that asceticism is practically unknown in ancient
Egypt before the time of Christ. At first sight, in reflecting on the
mysteries and religious ceremonies of the nation, we are apt to endow
the priests and other participators with a degree of austerity wholly
unjustified by facts. We picture the priest chanting his formulæ in the
dim light of the temple, the atmosphere about him heavy with incense;
and we imagine him as an anchorite who has put away the things of this
world. But in reality there seems to have been not even such a thing as
a celibate amongst the priests. Each man had his wife and his family,
his house, and his comforts of food and fine linen. He indulged in the
usual pastimes and was present at the merriest of feasts. The famous
wise men and magicians, such as Uba-ana of the Westcar Papyrus, had
their wives, their parks, their pleasure-pavilions, and their hosts of
servants. Great dignitaries of the Amon Church, such as Amenhotepsase,
the Second Prophet of Amen in the time of Thutmosis IV., are represented
as feasting with their friends, or driving through Thebes in
richly-decorated chariots drawn by prancing horses, and attended by an
array of servants. A monastic life, or the life of an anchorite, was
held by the Egyptians in scorn; and indeed the state of mind which
produces the monk and the hermit was almost entirely unknown to the
nation in dynastic times. It was only in the Ptolemaic and Roman periods
that asceticism came to be practised; and some have thought that its
introduction into Egypt is to be attributed to the preaching of the
Hindoo missionaries sent from India to the court of the Ptolemies. It is
not really an Egyptian characteristic; and its practice did not last for
more than a few centuries.
The religious teachings of the Egyptians before the Ptolemaic era do not
suggest that the mortification of the flesh was a possible means of
purifying the spirit. An appeal to the senses and to the emotions,
however, was considered as a legitimate method of reaching the soul. The
Egyptians were passionately fond of ceremonial display. Their huge
temples, painted as they were with the most brilliant colours, formed
the setting of processions and ceremonies in which music, rhythmic
motion, and colour were brought to a point of excellence. In honour of
some of the gods dances were conducted; while celebrations, such as the
fantastic Feast of Lamps, were held on the anniversaries of religious
events. In these gorgeously spectacular ceremonies there was no place
for anything sombre or austere, nor could they have been conceived by
any but the most life-loving temperaments.
As in his religious functions, so in his home, the Egyptian regarded
brilliancy and festivity as an edification. When in trouble or
distress, he was wont to relieve his mind as readily by an appeal to the
vanities of this world as by an invocation of the powers of Heaven.
Thus, when King Sneferu, of Dynasty IV., was oppressed with the cares of
state, his councillor Zazamankh constructed for him a pleasure boat
which was rowed around a lake by the most beautiful damsels obtainable.
And again, when Wenamon, the envoy of Herhor of Dynasty XXI., had fallen
into trouble with the pirates of the Mediterranean, his depression was
banished by a gift of a dancing-girl, two vessels of wine, a young goat
of tender flesh, and a message which read--"Eat and drink, and let not
thy heart feel apprehension."
An intense craving for brightness and cheerfulness is to be observed on
all sides, and the attempt to cover every action of life with a kind of
lustre is perhaps the most apparent characteristic of the race. At all
times the Egyptians decked themselves with flowers, and rich and poor
alike breathed what they called "the sweet north wind" through a screen
of blossoms. At their feasts and festivals each guest was presented with
necklaces and crowns of lotus-flowers, and a specially selected bouquet
was carried in the hands. Constantly, as the hours passed, fresh flowers
were brought to them, and the guests are shown in the tomb paintings in
the act of burying their noses in the delicate petals with an air of
luxury which even the conventionalities of the draughtsman cannot hide.
In the women's hair a flower was pinned which hung down before the
forehead; and a cake of ointment, concocted of some sweet-smelling
unguent, was so arranged upon the head that, as it slowly melted, it
re-perfumed the flower. Complete wreaths of flowers were sometimes worn,
and this was the custom as much in the dress of the home as in that of
the feast. The common people also arrayed themselves with wreaths of
lotuses at all galas and carnivals. The room in which a feast was held
was decorated lavishly with flowers. Blossoms crept up the delicate
pillars to the roof; garlands twined themselves around the tables and
about the jars of wine; and single buds lay in every dish of food. Even
the dead were decked in their tombs with a mass of flowers, as though
the mourners would hide with the living delights of the earth the misery
of the grave.
The Egyptian loved his garden, and filled it with all manner of
beautiful flowers. Great parks were laid out by the Pharaohs, and it is
recorded of Thutmosis III. that he brought back from his Asiatic
campaigns vast quantities of rare plants with which to beautify Thebes.
Festivals were held at the season when the flowers were in full bloom,
and the light-hearted Egyptian did not fail to make the flowers talk to
him, in the imagination, of the delights of life. In one case a fig-tree
is made to call to a passing maiden to come into its shade.
"Come," it says, "and spend this festal day, and
to-morrow, and the day after to-morrow, sitting in my
shadow. Let thy lover sit at thy side, and let him
drink.... Thy servants will come with the
dinner-things--they will bring drink of every kind, with
all manner of cakes, flowers of yesterday and of to-day,
and all kinds of refreshing fruit."
Than this one could hardly find a more convincing indication of the
gaiety of the Egyptian temperament. In the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries A.D. the people were so oppressed that any display of luxury
was discouraged, and a happy smile brought the tax-gatherer to the door
to ascertain whether it was due to financial prosperity. But the
carrying of flowers, and other indications of a kind of unworried
contentment, are now again becoming apparent on all sides.
[Illustration: PL. IX. A garland of leaves and flowers dating from about
B.C. 1000. It was placed upon the neck of a
mummy.
--CAIRO MUSEUM.]
[_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha._
The affection displayed by the Egyptians for bright colours would alone
indicate that their temperament was not melancholic. The houses of the
rich were painted with colours which would be regarded as crude had they
appeared in the Occident, but which are admissible in Egypt where the
natural brilliancy of the sunshine and the scenery demands a more
extreme colour-scheme in decoration. The pavilions in which the nobles
"made a happy day," as they phrased it, were painted with the most
brilliant wall-decorations, and the delicately-shaped lotus columns
supporting the roof were striped with half a dozen colours, and were
hung with streamers of linen. The ceilings and pavements seem to have
afforded the artists a happy field for a display of their originality
and skill, and it is on these stretches of smooth-plastered surface that
gems of Egyptian art are often found. A pavement from the palace of
Akhnaton at Tell el Amârna shows a scene in which a cow is depicted
frisking through the reeds, and birds are represented flying over the
marshes. In the palace of Amenhotep III. at Gurneh there was a ceiling
decoration representing a flight of doves, which, in its delicacy of
execution and colouring, is not to be classed with the crude forms of
Egyptian decoration, but indicates an equally light-hearted temperament
in its creator. It is not probable that either bright colours or
daintiness of design would emanate from the brains of a sombre-minded
people.
Some of the feminine garments worn in ancient Egypt were exceedingly
gaudy, and they made up in colour all that they lacked in variety of
design. In the Middle and New Empires the robes of the men were as
many-hued as their wall decorations, and as rich in composition. One may
take as a typical example the costume of a certain priest who lived at
the end of Dynasty XVIII. An elaborate wig covers his head; a richly
ornamented necklace surrounds his neck; the upper part of his body is
clothed in a tunic of gauze-like linen; as a skirt there is swathed
around him the most delicately coloured fine linen, one end of which is
brought up and thrown gracefully over his arm; decorated sandals cover
his feet and curl up over his toes; and in his hand he carries a
jewelled wand surmounted by feathers. It would be an absurdity to state
that these folds of fine linen hid a heart set on things higher than
this world and its vanities. Nor do the objects of daily use found in
the tombs suggest any austerity in the Egyptian character. There is no
reflection of the Underworld to be looked for in the ornamental bronze
mirrors, nor smell of death in the frail perfume pots. Religious
abstraction is not to be sought in lotus-formed drinking-cups, and
mortification of the body is certainly not practised on golden chairs
and soft cushions. These were the objects buried in the tombs of the
priests and religious teachers.
The puritanical tendency of a race can generally be discovered by a
study of the personal names of the people. The names by which the
Egyptians called their children are as gay as they are pretty, and lack
entirely the Puritan character. "Eyes-of-love," "My-lady-is-as-gold,"
"Cool-breeze," "Gold-and-lapis-lazuli," "Beautiful-morning," are
Egyptian names very far removed from "Through-trials-and-tribulations-
we-enter-into-the-Kingdom-of-Heaven Jones," which is the actual name
of a now living scion of a Roundhead family. And the well-known
"Praise-God Barebones" has little to do with the Egyptian "Beautiful-
Kitten," "Little-Wild-Lion," "I-have-wanted-you," "Sweetheart," and
so on.
The nature of the folk-tales is equally indicative of the temperament
of a nation. The stories which have come down to us from ancient Egypt
are often as frivolous as they are quaint. Nothing delighted the
Egyptians more than the listening to a tale told by an expert
story-teller; and it is to be supposed that such persons were in as much
demand in the old days as they are now. One may still read of the
adventures of the Prince who was fated to die by a dog, a snake, or a
crocodile; of the magician who made the waters of the lake heap
themselves up that he might descend to the bottom dry-shod to recover a
lady's jewel; of the fat old wizard who could cut a man's head off and
join it again to his body; of the fairy godmothers who made presents to
a new-born babe; of the shipwrecked sailor who was thrown up on an
island inhabited by serpents with human natures; of the princess in the
tower whose lovers spent their days in attempting to climb to her
window,--and so on. The stories have no moral, they are not pompous:
they are purely amusing, interesting, and romantic. As an example one
may quote the story which is told of Prince Setna, the son of Rameses
II. This Prince was one day sitting in the court of the temple of Ptah,
when he saw a woman pass "beautiful exceedingly, there being no woman of
her beauty." There were wonderful golden ornaments upon her, and she was
attended by fifty-two persons, themselves of some rank and much beauty.
"The hour that Setna saw her, he knew not the place on earth where he
was"; and he called to his servants and told them to "go quickly to the
place where she is, and learn what comes under her command." The
beautiful lady proved finally to be named Tabubna, the daughter of a
priest of Bast, the Cat. Setna's acquaintance with her was later of a
most disgraceful character; and, from motives which are not clear, she
made him murder his own children to please her. At the critical moment,
however, when the climax is reached, the old, old joke is played upon
the listener, who is told that Setna then woke up, and discovered that
the whole affair had been an afternoon dream in the shade of the temple
court.
The Egyptians often amused themselves by drawing comic pictures and
caricatures, and there is an interesting series still preserved in which
animals take the place of human beings, and are shown performing all
manner of antics. One sees a cat walking on its hind legs driving a
flock of geese, while a wolf carrying a staff and knapsack leads a herd
of goats. There is a battle of the mice and cats, and the king of the
mice, in his chariot drawn by two dogs, is seen attacking the fortress
of the cats. A picture which is worthy of Edward Lear shows a ridiculous
hippopotamus seated amidst the foliage of a tree, eating from a table,
whilst a crow mounts a ladder to wait upon him. There are caricatures
showing women of fashion rouging their faces, unshaven and really
amusing old tramps, and so forth. Even upon the walls of the tombs
there are often comic pictures, in which one may see little girls
fighting and tearing at each others' hair, men tumbling one over another
as they play, and the like; and one must suppose that these were the
scenes which the owner of the tomb wished to perpetuate throughout the
eternity of Death.
The Egyptians took keen delight in music. In the sound of the trumpet
and on the well-tuned cymbals they praised God in Egypt as merrily as
the Psalmist could wish. The strings and the pipe, the lute and the
harp, made music at every festival--religious, national, or private.
Plato tells us that "nothing but beautiful forms and fine music was
permitted to enter into the assemblies of young people" in Egypt; and he
states that music was considered as being of the greatest consequence
for its beneficial effects upon youthful minds. Strabo records the fact
that music was largely taught in Egypt, and the numbers of musical
instruments buried in the tombs or represented in the decorations
confirm his statement. The music was scientifically taught, and a
knowledge of harmony is apparent in the complicated forms of the
instruments. The harps sometimes had as many as twenty-two strings: the
long-handled guitars, fitted with three strings, were capable of wide
gradations; and the flutes were sufficiently complicated to be described
by early writers as "many-toned." The Egyptian did not merely bang a
drum with his fist because it made a noise, nor blow blasts upon a
trumpet as a means of expressing the inexpressible. He was an educated
musician, and he employed the medium of music to encourage his lightness
of heart and to render his gaiety more gay.
[Illustration: PL. X. A relief of the Saitic Period, representing an old
man playing upon a harp, and a woman beating a
drum. Offerings of food and flowers are placed
before them.
--ALEXANDRIA MUSEUM.]
[_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha._
One sees representations of the women in a rich man's harem amusing
themselves by dancing and singing. In the tomb of Ay there is a scene
showing the interior of the women's quarters, and here the ladies are
shown dancing, playing guitars, feasting, or adorning themselves with
their jewellery; while the store-rooms are seen to be filled with all
manner of musical instruments, as well as mirrors, boxes of clothes, and
articles of feminine use. At feasts and banquets a string band played
during the meal, and songs were sung to the accompaniment of the harp.
At religious festivals choruses of male and female voices were
introduced. Soldiers marched through the streets to the sound of
trumpets and drums, and marriage processions and the like were led by a
band. At the feasts it was customary for the dancing-girls, who were
employed for the amusement of the guests, to perform their dances and to
play a guitar or a flute at the same time. One sees representations of
girls, their heads thrown back and their long hair flying, merrily
twanging a guitar as they skip round the room. In the civil and
religious processions many of the participators danced along as though
from sheer lightness of heart; and on some occasions even the band
footed it down the high-road, circling, jumping, and skipping as they
played.
The words for "rejoice" and "dance" were synonymous in the literature of
the Egyptians. In early days dancing naturally implied rejoicing, and
rejoicing was most easily expressed by dancing. But the Egyptians of the
refined periods more often danced to amuse themselves, regarding it,
just as we do at the present day, as an exhilaration. Persons of the
upper classes, however, did not indulge very freely in it, but preferred
to watch the performances of professional dancers. At all banquets
dancing was as indispensable as wine, women, and song, and it rather
depended on the nature of the wine and women as to whether the guests
joined personally in the sport or sat still while the dancers swayed
around the room. The professionals were generally women, but sometimes
men were employed, and one sees representations of a man performing some
difficult solo while a chorus of women sings and marks time by clapping
the hands. Men and women danced together on occasions, but as a general
rule the Egyptian preferred to watch the movements of the more graceful
sex by themselves. The women sometimes danced naked, to show off the
grace of their poses and the suppleness of their muscles; sometimes they
were decked with ribbons only; and sometimes they wore transparent
dresses made of linen of the finest texture. It was not unusual for
them to carry tambourines and castanets with which to beat time to their
dances. On the other hand, there were delicate and sober performances,
unaccompanied by music. The paintings show some of the poses to have
been exceedingly graceful, and there were character dances enacted in
which the figures must have been highly dramatic and artistic. For
example, the tableau which occurs in one dance, and is called "The
Wind," shows two of the dancing-girls bent back like reeds when the wind
blows upon them, while a third figure stands over them in protection, as
though symbolising the immovable rocks.
But more usually the merry mood of the Egyptians asserted itself, as it
so often does at the present day, in a demand for something approaching
nearer to buffoonery. The dancers whirled one another about in the
wildest manner, often tumbling head over heels on the floor. A trick,
attended generally with success, consisted in the attempt by the dancers
to balance the body upon the head without the support of the arms. This
buffoonery was highly appreciated by the audience which witnessed it;
and the banqueting-room must have been full of the noise of riotous
mirth. One cannot, indeed, regard a feast as pompous or solemn at which
the banging of the tambourines and the click of castanets vied with the
clatter of the dishes and the laughter of the guests in creating a
general hullabaloo. Let those state who will that the Egyptian was a
gloomy individual, but first let them not fail to observe that same
Egyptian standing upon his head amidst the roars of laughter of his
friends.
Dancing as a religious ceremony is to be found in many primitive
countries, and in Egypt it exists at the present day in more than one
form. In the days of the Pharaohs it was customary to institute dances
in honour of some of the gods, more especially those deities whose
concerns were earthy--that is to say, those connected with love, joy,
birth, death, fertility, reproduction, and so on. It will be remembered
how David danced before the Ark of the Lord, and how his ancestors
danced in honour of the golden calf. In Egypt the king was wont to dance
before the great god Min of the crops, and at harvest-time the peasants
performed their thanksgiving before the figures of Min in this manner.
Hathor and Bast, the two great goddesses of pleasure, were worshipped in
the dance. Hathor was mistress of sports and dancing, and patron of
amusements and mirth, joy and pleasure, beauty and love; and in regard
to the happy temperament of the Egyptians, it is significant that this
goddess was held in the highest esteem throughout the history of the
nation.
Bast was honoured by a festival which for merriment and frivolity could
not well be equalled. The festival took place at Bubastis, and is
described by Herodotus in the following words:--
"This is the nature of the ceremony on the way to
Bubastis. They go by water, and numerous boats are
crowded with persons of both sexes. During the voyage
several women strike the cymbals, some men play the
flute, the rest singing and clapping their hands. As they
pass near a town they bring the boat close to the bank.
Some of the women continue to sing and play the cymbals;
others cry out as long as they can, and utter mocking
jests against the people of the town, who begin to dance,
while the former pull up their clothes before them in a
scoffing manner. The same is repeated at every town they
pass upon the river. Arrived at Bubastis, they celebrate
the festival of Bast, sacrificing a great number of
victims, and on that occasion a greater consumption of
wine takes place than during the whole of the year."
At this festival of Bast half the persons taking part in the
celebrations must have become intoxicated. The Egyptians were always
given to wine-drinking, and Athenæus goes so far as to say that they
were a nation addicted to systematic intemperance. The same writer, on
the authority of Hellanicus, states that the vine was cultivated in the
Nile valley at a date earlier than that at which it was first grown by
any other people; and it is to this circumstance that Dion attributes
the Egyptian's love of wine. Strabo and other writers speak of the wines
of Egypt as being particularly good, and various kinds emanating from
different localities are mentioned. The wines made from grapes were of
the red and white varieties; but there were also fruit wines, made from
pomegranates and other fruits. In the lists of offerings inscribed on
the walls of temples and tombs one sees a large number of varieties
recorded--wines from the north, wines from the south, wines provincial,
and wines foreign. Beer, made of barley, was also drunk very largely,
and this beverage is heartily commended by the early writers. Indeed,
the wine and beer-bibber was so common an offender against the dignity
of the nation, that every moralist who arose had a word to say against
him. Thus, for example, in the Maxims of Ani one finds the moralist
writing--
"Do not put thyself in a beer-house. An evil thing are
words reported as coming from thy mouth when thou dost
not know that they have been said by thee. When thou
fallest thy limbs are broken, and nobody giveth thee a
hand. Thy comrades in drink stand up, saying, 'Away with
this drunken man.'"
The less thoughtful members of society, however, considered drunkenness
as a very good joke, and even went so far as to portray it in their tomb
decorations. One sees men carried home from a feast across the shoulders
of three of their companions, or ignominiously hauled out of the house
by their ankles and the scruff of their neck. In the tomb of Paheri at
El Kab women are represented at a feast, and scraps of their
conversation are recorded, such, for instance, as "Give me eighteen cups
of wine, for I should love to drink to drunkenness: my inside is as dry
as straw." There are actually representations of women overcome with
nausea through immoderate drinking, and being attended by servants who
have hastened with basins to their assistance. In another tomb-painting
a drunken man is seen to have fallen against one of the delicate
pillars of the pavilion with such force that it has toppled over, to the
dismay of the guests around.
In the light of such scenes as these one may picture the life of an
Egyptian in the elder days as being not a little depraved. One sees the
men in their gaudy raiment, and the women luxuriously clothed, staining
their garments with the wine spilt from the drinking-bowls as their
hands shake with their drunken laughter; and the vision of Egyptian
solemnity is still further banished at the sight. It is only too obvious
that a land of laughter and jest, feasting and carouse, must be situated
too near a Pompeian volcano to be capable of endurance, and the
inhabitants too purposeless in their movements to avoid at some time or
other running into the paths of burning lava. The people of Egypt went
merrily through the radiant valley in which they lived, employing all
that the gods had given them,--not only the green palms, the thousand
birds, the blue sky, the hearty wind, the river and its reflections, but
also the luxuries of their civilisation,--to make for themselves a frail
feast of happiness. And when the last flowers, the latest empty
drinking-cup, fell to the ground, nothing remained to them but that
sodden, drunken night of disgrace which shocks one so at the end of the
dynastic history, and which inevitably led to the fall of the nation.
Christian asceticism came as the natural reaction and Muhammedan
strictness followed in due course; and it required the force of both
these movements to put strength and health into the people once more.
[Illustration: PL. XI. An Egyptian noble of the Eighteenth Dynasty
hunting birds with a boomerang and decoys.
He stands in a reed-boat which floats amidst
the papyrus clumps, and a cat retrieves the
fallen birds. In the boat with him are his
wife and son.
--FROM A THEBAN TOMB-PAINTING, BRITISH MUSEUM.]
One need not dwell, however, on this aspect of the Egyptian temperament.
It is more pleasing, and as pertinent to the argument, to follow the old
lords of the Nile into the sunshine once more, and to glance for a
moment at their sports. Hunting was a pleasure to them, in which they
indulged at every opportunity. One sees representations of this with
great frequency upon the walls of the tombs. A man will be shown
standing in a reed boat which has been pushed in amongst the waving
papyrus. A boomerang is in his hand, and his wife by his side helps him
to locate the wild duck, so that he may penetrate within
throwing-distance of the birds before they rise. Presently up they go
with a whir, and the boomerang claims its victims; while all manner of
smaller birds dart from amidst the reeds, and gaudy butterflies pass
startled overhead. Again one sees the hunter galloping in his chariot
over the hard sand of the desert, shooting his arrows at the gazelle as
he goes. Or yet again with his dogs he is shown in pursuit of the
long-eared Egyptian hare, or of some other creature of the desert. When
not thus engaged he may be seen excitedly watching a bullfight, or
eagerly judging the merits of rival wrestlers, boxers, and fencers. One
may follow him later into the seclusion of his garden, where, surrounded
by a wealth of trees and flowers, he plays draughts with his friends,
romps with his children, or fishes in his artificial ponds. There is
much evidence of this nature to show that the Egyptian was as much given
to these healthy amusements as he was to the mirth of the feast.
Josephus states that the Egyptians were a people addicted to pleasure,
and the evidence brought together in the foregoing pages shows that his
statement is to be confirmed. In sincere joy of living they surpassed
any other nation of the ancient world. Life was a thing of such delight
to the Egyptian, that he shrank equally from losing it himself and from
taking it from another. His prayer was that he might live to be a
centenarian. In spite of the many wars of the Egyptians, there was less
unnecessary bloodshed in the Nile valley than in any other country which
called itself civilised. Death was as terrible to them as it was
inevitable, and the constant advice of the thinker was that the living
should make the most of their life. When a king died, it was said that
"he went forth to heaven having spent life in happiness," or that "he
rested after life, having completed his years in happiness." It is true
that the Egyptians wished to picture the after-life as one of continuous
joy. One sees representations of a man's soul seated in the shade of the
fruit-trees of the Underworld, while birds sing in the branches above
him, and a lake of cool water lies before him; but they seemed to know
that this was too pleasant a picture to be the real one. A woman, the
wife of a high priest, left upon her tombstone the following
inscription, addressed to her husband:--
"O, brother, husband, friend," she says, "thy desire to
drink and to eat hath not ceased. Therefore be drunken,
enjoy the love of women--make holiday. Follow thy desire
by night and by day. Put not care within thy heart. Lo!
are not these the years of thy life upon earth? For as
for the Underworld, it is a land of slumber and heavy
darkness, a resting-place for those who have passed
within it. Each sleepeth there in his own form, they
never awake to see their fellows, they behold not their
fathers nor their mothers, their heart is careless of
their wives and children."
She knows that she will be too deeply steeped in the stupor of the
Underworld to remember her husband, and unselfishly she urges him to
continue to be happy after the manner of his nation. Then, in a passage
which rings down the years in its terrible beauty, she tells of her
utter despair, lying in the gloomy Underworld, suffocated with the mummy
bandages, and craving for the light, the laughter, and the coolness of
the day.
"The water of life," she cries, "with which every mouth
is moistened, is corruption to me, the water that is by
me corrupteth me. I know not what to do since I came into
this valley. Give me running water, say to me, 'Water
shall not cease to be brought to thee.' Turn my face to
the north wind upon the edge of the water. Verily thus
shall my heart be cooled and refreshed from its pain."
It is, however, the glory of life, rather than the horror of death,
which is the dominant note in the inscriptions and reliefs. The scenes
in the tomb decorations seem to cry out for very joy. The artist has
imprisoned in his representations as much sheer happiness as was ever
infused into cold stone. One sees there the gazelle leaping over the
hills as the sun rises, the birds flapping their wings and singing, the
wild duck rising from the marshes, and the butterflies flashing
overhead. The fundamental joy of living--that gaiety of life which the
human being may feel in common with the animals--is shown in these
scenes as clearly as is the merriment in the representations of feasts
and dancing. In these paintings and reliefs one finds an exact
illustration to the joyful exhortation of the Psalmist as he cries, "Let
the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; ... let the fields be
joyful, and all that is therein." In a land where, to quote one of their
own poems, "the tanks are full of water and the earth overflows with
love," where "the cool north wind" blows merrily over the fields, and
the sun never ceases to shine, it would be a remarkable phenomenon if
the ancient Egyptians had not developed the sanguine temperament. The
foregoing pages have shown them at their feasts, in their daily
occupations, and in their sports, and the reader will find that it is
not difficult to describe them, in the borrowed words of the old
geographer, as a people always gay and often frivolous, and
never-ceasingly "fond of dancing and red wine."