THE STATUE OF AMEN DISAPPEARS
In Thebes a religious drama was enacted annually, a drama in which was
portrayed the eternal conflict waged between Amen, the sun-god, and Apep,
Prince of Darkness.
Unknown to the peasant, as indeed to many a priestly participant, the
story of the drama, in truth, perpetuated the prehistoric invasion of
Egypt by those “Followers of Horus” who had subdued, and, eventually,
become absorbed by the original inhabitants of the Nile Valley.
At that early date, Thebes had been but a small village, a cluster of
mud huts and a small shrine, over whose walls rose the emblem of the
primitive cult.
Since that time, three thousand years had come and gone, and Thebes had
become the richest and most powerful city of the ancient world.
Now, since Horus, son of Hathor, was the leader of the victorious
invaders, and the two great battles had taken place at Nekhen and
Abdu—Thebes being entirely outside the field of operations—the various
incidents enacted in this great religious spectacle had nothing whatever
to do with Thebes nor, indeed, with its famed local deity, the sun-god
Amen.
But the priests of Amen’s great temple at Thebes had always looked with
envy at the popularity of the yearly spectacle as enacted in the two
rival cities. Thus, when finally a Theban prince became Pharaoh, the
first care of the Chief Prophet of Amen had been to get the royal seal
affixed to a permit looking toward the perpetual endowment of a similar
festival in his own city of Thebes, a six days’ wonder that should
utterly eclipse anything of which Nekhen, Abdu or any other rival god or
city could boast.
In the drama as presented at Thebes, the son of Hathor became the sun-god
Amen of Thebes. The “Followers of Horus” were personified by Theban
priests, local notables and others.
As to the “Followers of Set,” the enemies in the drama, such miscreants
were portrayed by unhappy foreign slaves, criminals and the like, many
of whom were sacrificed before the altar of the sun-god, following the
conclusion of the customary mimic battle and mock attempt to carry off
the holy statue of Amen.
The great Theban festival called for a full week of continued
merrymaking. Military tournaments were instituted, athletic contests
took place; boat races were a daily occurrence along the river front. In
the palace magical contests were held, the wisdom of ancient sages was
discussed, or great prophets of the day were brought before Pharaoh’s
throne.
In the latter case Pharaoh heard, at first hand, of the marvelous deeds
of magic under the ancestors of the Pyramid Age, or was admonished to
give more thought to his oppressed and hungry people.
One stalwart hermit had had the temerity to prophesy the overthrow of
Pharaoh and the coming of “a righteous king,” under whom Egypt would
return to the blissful state of long ago, “before death was,” and
mankind, both native and foreign, would become united in an international
brotherhood which would make one the lands of men and the Blessed fields
of Aaru, the abode of the gods!
The rash prophet was not handed to the strangler, but led courteously
from the Presence. An order for a tomb, a fine limestone coffin, and a
tomb-statue, followed him to his distant home. During the Feast of the
Apts, one might speak one’s true mind, even before Majesty.
To-day, the day of “bringing in the god,” crowds jostled and pushed along
every Theban lane and alley. Everyone sought the Avenue of Sphinxes, or
the River Road. The latter route, which extended from the main pylon of
the Temple to the Sacred Quay, was policed along its short extent by a
double line of foreign spearmen.
The two-horse chariot of the chief of these mercenaries dashed madly up
the well guarded course, turned and disappeared down the long Avenue of
Sphinxes which led to the Southern Temple. The Chief would take one last
survey of the flower-strewn route before the “Appearance of the sun-god”
should commence.
The gold statue of Amen the Hidden One, would presently be taken from
the Holy of Holies in the dim shrine of the Northern Apt, and escorted
upstream on the Sacred Barge to the jeweled sanctuary of the Temple of
the Southern Apt.
Before the open cedar doors of the temple Pharaoh himself might be seen
upon his portable throne of gold and ivory, high above the shoulders of
twenty-four priestly bearers. As usual, his tame lion stood upon the dais
at its royal master’s side.
The grand procession now moved forward. It was headed by a priest, who
solemnly burned incense in a long hawk-headed bronze censer. All about
him musicians played and women-of-the-temple, women playing to the
mystical harem of the god, sang the adorations to the sun-god. Two other
groups marked time by clapping of hands and playing of ivory castanets.
Immediately in front of the king’s throne marched serried ranks of
kilted Egyptian soldiers, singing as they went. Their raw-hide shields
moved across their naked breasts in time with the music. At the close of
each verse they lifted their short spears or axes above their heads and
shouted a short but resounding: “Hai! Amen! Ya—hai! Amen!”
Soon the long lines of onlookers had taken up the refrain, and the limpid
air of the Capital thrilled to the wild cries of “Hai! Amen! Ya—hai!
Amen!” As the gold throne of the Monarch advanced, groups of White-robed
nobles fell into line behind it.
Then followed a long line of women from the Temples of Amen, Mut and
Khonsu, who marked the time of the hymn of praise by shaking golden
sistra and rattling _menats_, short but thick necklaces of beryl,
amethyst and carnelian beads. With much beating of drums and clicking of
castanets a group of feathered negroes pressed close after the singers.
There followed another long line of soldiers, Egyptian, Asiatic, Nubian,
Libyan, and, finally, a little group of Cretans, remarkable not so much
for the breadth of their shoulders as for the slimness of their waists,
“hornet waisted” they had been nicknamed by the Thebans. These latter
were almost lost behind their enormous ox-hide shields.
Each group carried its own special type of weapon, since there were
definite regiments of archers, axemen, spearmen and slingers, and each
company was headed by its own device or standard bearer.
At last the heavy bronze doors of the Temple of Amen slowly opened and
a seemingly unending line of white-robed priests issued from the deep
shadows of the stupendous pylons.
High upon their gleaming shoulders rested portable barques containing
the various sacred deities belonging to the various temples which were
well-nigh hidden by the lofty enclosure walls. Certain priests offered
incense to these gods, at intervals, along the whole extent of the route.
In the midst of one group might be seen a number of spirited bulls, with
horns decorated in gold. Great yokes of flowers and sweet-smelling leaves
were hung about their throats.
Trailing out behind these last followed a long line of priests carrying
the standards of the gods, since the whole company of the Blessed Gods
marched, unseen, in this great procession.
A renewed wave of cheering went up as the linen-draped shrine of Amen
appeared. A vacant place was kept clear behind it, in which marched the
“souls” of dead kings! Thirty-six tall priests carried this Holy of
Holies towards a gleaming barge, moored to the water’s edge at the Sacred
Quay. Over two hundred feet long, this barge was built throughout its
entire extent of cedar from the Lebanus Terraces. Its sides were covered
to the water’s edge with pure Nubian gold. Enormous necklaces of gold
were hung at prow and stern. The “Two eyes of Horus,” at the prow, were
inlaid in brilliant blue lazuli from Babylon. The great checkered linen
sail, which lay furled upon the silver deck, was of the square Egyptian
type. It was decorated with squares of red and blue embroidery.
There was now as much noise and excitement on the river as on shore. The
captains of fifty great painted barges awaited the signal to pull up
their mooring-stakes as soon as the Sacred Barge should be well under
way. Were it possible, the startled air trembled to still louder shouts
as excited overseers, taskmasters and men commenced to pull at the great
towing ropes. The swift Nile current made it necessary that the barge be
dragged upstream by a whole army of young and lusty Egyptians.
Along the line of route people began to disappear from the gayly
decorated windows. The last scene of the day’s ceremony was about to take
place within the still unfinished forecourt of the Southern Temple of
Amen.
Carrying-chairs were frantically demanded, but soon abandoned, as who
could make headway in that fashion in the midst of such a crowd? A few
fortunate people managed to squeeze through the broad square lined with
its rows of booths, where slaves were hastily preparing wine, fruit,
flowers and incense or cutting up the unfortunate bulls as part of the
“beautiful festival of the Apt.”
Pharaoh offered incense to his father Amen as four exalted members of the
priesthood poured out wine from festooned jars of painted pottery. With
the exception of these four noblemen, high initiates of the Sorcerers
of Amen and Huy, the Great High Priest, no one could witness the taking
of the image of Amen from its jeweled shrine and its transference to
the silver tabernacle within the granite naos which stood, beside “the
position which the king takes,” deep within the gloom of the upper temple.
Pharaoh himself, though the personification of Amen, dare not venture
beyond that fixed “position,” a spot marked by a huge block of turquoise
from the Sinaitic mines, set in the richly painted wall of the upper
temple.
Around the great forecourt, the nobles knelt or stood, according as they
belonged to the two rival factions of Amen or Aton.
To the latter group, this marked what was no doubt the very last
procession of its kind. Hence these adherents of Aton, the Syrian God,
stood stiffly in the background. A covert smile might have been noted on
many a swarthy face among them.
Pharaoh’s expression was one of cold indifference.
Throughout the whole scene the apathetic monarch seemed not to be
conscious of where he was or of what he was doing. It is true, he
successfully finished each and every detail of the exacting ritual of
Amen. But, what he did, he did mechanically.
The last mock-reverence finished, Pharaoh retired.
As his throne was borne swiftly toward the royal barge, his mask of
impassibility vanished. He sank back and allowed his gaze to travel from
one side to the other. There was an air of expectancy in each turn of his
head. He even went so far as to bow to the acclamations of his people,
and this not a little to their bewilderment, since Pharaohs, in public,
were customarily, at best, but breathing statues.
Scarcely had the king set foot upon the deck of his beautiful barge,
“Star of the Gods,” when a frightful tumult broke out along the bank,
immediately fronting the great barge of Amen. Wild shrieks from the
women-of-the-temple, hoarse and angry cries from the men, intermingled
with mocking laughter and shouts of derision.
A great crowd of angry priests of Amen might be seen pushing their way
through the dense crowd which was massed in front of the giant statues of
Thothmes, whose temple stood near by. Frantic attempts were being made
by the priests of Amen to burst through this crowd. Yet each insistent
attempt ended in failure, as did a last charge in one serried block.
The crowd itself was by now so divided into factions that blows were
falling right and left, and hapless people were constantly being trampled
under foot.
Shrieking: “Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” the priests turned and rushed headlong
to their boats.
The Holy figure of the Hidden One, the sacred Statue of Amen, the
sun-god, had disappeared.
The followers of Aton had scored their first success, and that success
one of tremendous import!