THE ORDINARY HUMAN FAILINGS OF THE ANCIENT MOGULS
Taken by themselves, as mere mouldering chunks of antiquity that have
been preserved to us because they happened to be dropped down in a dry
climate, the fragmentary remains of old Egypt are not very inspiring.
They were big, but seldom beautiful. As records proving that
humanity--old-fashioned, unreliable humanity, with its fears,
jealousies, hatreds, and aching ambitions--is just about the same as it
was five thousand years ago, the temples and the decorated tombs seem
to bring us direct and heartfelt messages from our brethren of the long
ago.
For instance, from the beginning of time probably the most maddening
and unbearable persecution that can be visited upon a sensitive human
being is to have some other human being always held up before him as a
shining moral example.
Do you recall, O male reader, how you writhed in humiliation and laid
plans for assault and battery when the good little Rollo of your native
town was constantly dangled before your depraved soul as the paragon of
juvenile virtues? "Rollo never smokes corn silk." "Rollo never puts
tick-tacks on teacher's bedroom window." "Rollo never carries craw
dabbers in his Sunday clothes." "Rollo never runs away to go swimming
and then comes back with his ears full of gravel."
[Illustration: _The paragon of juvenile virtues_]
No, indeed, Rollo never showed any of the traits that have been the
essence of boyhood since Adam and Eve started the original brood. And
do you remember how bright and sunshiny that day seemed when Rollo,
having grown to pale and sidewhiskered manhood, was arrested for
stealing money from the Building and Loan Association?
Take the story of Queen Hatasoo. She was the Victoria of the
eighteenth dynasty, and was on the throne just about 1500 B.C. The
lineal male descendant of that period had a blot on the 'scutcheon or a
bar sinister across his pedigree or something wrong with his registry
certificate--anyway, he could not qualify as king, and so his sister
Hatasoo was made ruler and he was permitted to hang around the palace
as a kind of shawl holder and cab opener. He led the cotillons and
attended public dinners and wore decorations, but Hatasoo ran Egypt and
Thutmes Second was merely a trailer. When he dropped off there did not
seem to be any considerable vacancy in court circles. Queen Hatasoo
continued as chief monarch, although her step-nephew, Thutmes Third,
carried the honourary title of co-regent. Hatasoo was energetic and
ambitious. She put nephew into a remote back seat and ran things to
suit herself, waging wars, building temples, and organising expeditions
to far distant lands. Also, according to ancient custom, she had her
portrait and the record of her accomplishments carved on the obelisks
and painted all over the walls of her private temple, which is still
standing, about three miles west of the present city of Luxor.
She reigned for thirty-five years, and then Thutmes Third, gray bearded
and worn with much waiting, emerged from the nursery and took up the
reins of government. According to the judgment of later historians,
his reign was about the most glorious in the whole history of Egypt.
He was possessed of military genius, and under his direction Syria was
recaptured, and the influence of Egypt was firmly established in
Western Asia. But no matter how many battles he won or how many
captives he brought back to Thebes to exhibit in the courthouse square,
the old-timers around the court wagged their heads and said, "Yes, he's
doing fairly well for a beginner, but he'll never come up to the mark
set by his Aunt Hattie." Hatasoo was her full name, but those who had
known her for a long time called her "Hattie," and to a few of her
intimates she was known as "Hat."
[Illustration: "_He'll never come up to the mark set by his aunt
Hattie._"]
Thutmes was merely human. For years his domineering aunt had kept him
out of the running, and now that he was on the throne the glory of her
achievements was constantly being dinged into him. Every time he rode
out in his chariot, standing up and sawing away at four horses, just as
they do in Ringling's circus at the present time, he saw her name and
picture on all the public buildings, and, of course, two or three years
after her departure, everybody bragged about her a good deal harder
than they had while she was alive. Even the English newspapers speak
in kindly terms of an American statesman who is safely deceased.
Thutmes stood it as long as he could, and then he broke over. He
ordered the stonecutters to go forth and gouge out all the inscriptions
relating to his superior aunt. The temple which she had built as a
special memorial he appropriated to himself, and put his name over the
main entrance. It may have been pretty spiteful, but the whole
proceeding somehow seems to establish a sympathetic link between those
remote heathen days and the unselfish Utopian civilisation that we now
enjoy in Chicago, Omaha, West Superior, and other centres of brotherly
love.
After Thutmes had put in years erasing and chiselling out all
complimentary references to Hatasoo, he passed away and was carried to
a winding subterranean tomb in the valley to the west. For two hundred
years the great monuments which he had erected in his own honour, or
quietly borrowed from his aunt, remained intact. Then along came
Rameses Second, to whom we have already referred as the best little
advertiser of ancient times. He had the name of Thutmes removed from
all the temples, obelisks, and public buildings, and put his own
glaring label on everything in sight. In the language of Mr. Peasley,
the Kings seemed to spend most of their time in "knocking their
predecessors" and "boosting" themselves.
Nearly every ancient structure has been defaced or altered to gratify a
private jealousy or some prejudice founded on religious belief. The
Romans tried to obliterate the old Egyptian deities. The early
Christians hacked away at anything that failed to strike them as being
orthodox. Then the Turks capped the climax by coming in and burning
everything non-Mohammedan that was at all combustible. A few ancient
records remain because they are carved in huge characters on very hard
stone. The theologians wanted to batter them down, but it would have
meant a lot of hard work and they had been leading sedentary lives. So
they merely criss-crossed them and wrote the equivalent for "Rats"
underneath, and let it go at that.
[Illustration: Egyptian temple paintings]
Even the modern circus bill is not more exuberant and given to joyful
hyperbole than the inscriptions and paintings of the Egyptian temples.
A few of them are reproduced herewith. Take No. 1, for example. This
represents our old friend Rameses the Great in the act of overcoming
his enemies. It was designed by Rameses himself. Now we know where
Kaiser Wilhelm got all of his tips.
[Illustration: _Where Kaiser Wilhelm got all his tips_]
Some warriors are content with overcoming one man at a time, but
Rameses is seen holding ten of them by the hair, getting ready to clout
them into insensibility. The picture is an artistic success, but is
somewhat shy anatomically. The ten enemies have a total of only three
legs for the whole crowd. They are better supplied with arms, the
total being thirteen, or about one and one-third to the man. Notice
also the relative size of Rameses and his foes. There we have the
real, unchanging spirit of autobiography--the great I triumphant and
the petty antagonists all coming about knee high to him.
No. 2 is also very characteristic. One of the kings is represented as
defeating two burly warriors. He is walking on one and pushing his
spear through the other. Undoubtedly a glorious achievement. It would
be still more glorious if the two gentlemen putting up the fight
against the King had carried weapons of some sort. The one on the
ground, who is lifting his hands in mild protest against being used as
a rug, has nothing on his person to indicate that he is a soldier. The
one who is being harpooned carries in his left hand what appears to be
a box of handkerchiefs. The raised right arm would suggest that he
attempted to slap the King, who caught him by the arm and held him
until he could select a good vital spot in which to prong him.
Attention is called to the fact that both of the victims wear the long
and protuberant chin whisker, which would indicate that the honest
farmer was getting the worst of it even four thousand years ago.
The carvings and paintings which do not depict warlike scenes usually
show the monarchs receiving homage from terrified subjects or else
mingling on terms of equality with the principal deities of the period.
Illustration No. 3 is a very good specimen. King Amenophis and his
wife are seen seated on their square-built Roycroft thrones, while two
head priests of Ammon burn incense before them and sing their praises
and tell them that the people are with the administration, no matter
how the Senate may carry on. There was no race prejudice in those
days. The Queen is shown to be a coal-black Nubian. In one hand she
carries what seems to be a fly brush of the very kind that we used all
the time we were up the Nile, and if the article in her other hand is
not a cocktail glass then the artist has wilfully libelled her.
No. 4 is interesting as a fashion plate. Ptolemeus and Cleopatra are
making offers to the hawk-headed god and the goddess Hathor. This
picture will appeal to women inasmuch as it gives us a correct likeness
of Cleopatra, the man trapper. No one can dispute the fact that she is
beautiful, but how about the combination of an Empress gown with a
habit back? Is it not a trifle daring? And the hat. Would you call
it altogether subdued?
Another well-preserved painting to be found in the temple at Edfou
reveals the innate modesty of the Ptolemies. The King (No. 5) is
represented as being crowned by the goddesses of the south and the
north--that is, of Upper and Lower Egypt. These divinities seem to be
overcome with admiration of the athletic monarch. One has her hand
resting on his shoulder, as if she hated to see him go. The other,
having just fitted him with his new gourd-shaped hat, has both hands in
the air, and you can almost hear her say, "Oh, my! It looks just fine!"
Seti I. was another shrinking violet. In one of his private
three-sheet advertisements (No. 6) he has the sublime effrontery to
represent the great goddess Hathor as holding his hand tenderly and
offering him the jewelled collar which she is wearing. Notice the
uplifted hand. He is supposed to be saying, "This is all very sudden,
and besides, would it be proper for me to accept jewelry from one of
your sex?" Of course, there never was any Hathor, and if there had
been she wouldn't have hob-nobbed with a man who had his private
interviews done into oil paintings. But this painting and one thousand
others that we have seen in Egypt help to give us a line on the ancient
Kings. If there was any one of them that failed to get the swelled
head soon after mounting the throne, the hieroglyphs are strangely
silent regarding his case. They were a vain, self-laudatory lot, and
all of them had that craving for the centre of the stage and the hot
glare of the spot-light which is still to be found in isolated cases.
After all is said and done can we blame them? Rameses wanted to be
remembered and talked about and he laid his plans accordingly. He
carved the record of his long and successful reign on the unyielding
granite and distributed his pictures with the careful prodigality of a
footlight favourite. What has been the result? His name is a
household joke all over the world. People who never heard of Professor
Harry Thurston Peck or Marie Corelli or the present Khedive of Egypt
know all about Rameses the Great, although no two of them pronounce it
the same.