Bonn, March 1895.
THE
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN DOCTRINE
OF THE
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.
Little as we know of the ancient Egyptian religion in its entirety,
and of its motley mixture of childishly crude fetichism and deep
philosophic thought, of superstition and true religious worship, of
polytheism, henotheism, and pantheism, one dogma stands out clearly
from this confusion, one article of belief to which the Egyptian
religion owes its unique position among all other religions of
antiquity−-the doctrine of the immortality of the human soul. It is
true that other ancient religions attained to a similar dogma, for the
belief was early developed among Semites, Indo-Germanians, Turanians,
and Mongolians; but in all these cases it appears as the outcome of a
higher conception of man and God and of their reciprocal relationship,
and, when attained to, brought about the abandonment of grossly
material forms of thought. But in Egypt we have the unique spectacle
of one of the most elaborated forms of the doctrine of immortality
side by side with the most elementary conception of higher beings
ever formulated by any people. We do not know whether the belief in
immortality which prevailed in the valley of the Nile is as old as the
Egyptian religion in general, although at first sight it appears to be
so. The oldest of the longer religious texts which have come down to us
are found in the wall inscriptions of pyramids of kings of the Fifth
and Sixth Dynasties (according to Manetho’s scheme of the dynasties),
and must be dated to at least 3000 B.C. In these texts the doctrine
of immortality appears as a completed system with a long history of
development behind it.
In that system, all the stages through which this doctrine of the
Egyptian religion had successively passed are preserved; for the
Egyptians were so immoderately conservative in everything that they
could not make up their minds to give up their old ideas of deity,
even after having advanced to higher and purer ones. The older ideas
were all carefully retained, and we find various systems of religion
which in point of time had followed each other on Egyptian soil
afterwards existing side by side. There is no trace of any struggle for
the victory between these systems; each new order of thought was taken
as it arose into the circle of the older ones, however heterogeneous it
might be to the rest. The consequence was that in Egypt there was no
religious progress in our sense of the term. With us it is essential
that old and outworn forms of belief should be cast off; with them a
new doctrine could achieve no greater success than to win a place among
the older conceptions of the Egyptian Pantheon.
Each single divinity, each religious belief, each amulet, has in itself
a clear and intelligible significance; and where this is apparently
otherwise it is not because the point was obscure to the Egyptian
mind, but because we have not yet succeeded in making it clear to
ourselves. When we abandon the consideration of single points and try
to imagine how the different detached notions were combined by the
people into one belief, and what picture they had really formed of
their Heaven and Pantheon—then we have set ourselves an impossible
task. Many divinities have precisely the same character and perform the
same functions; whole circles of ideas are mutually exclusive; yet all
existed together and were accepted and believed in at one and the same
time.
In these circumstances any discussion of Egyptian religious ideas must
begin by dealing with isolated facts; each divinity, each idea, each
smallest amulet must be carefully examined by itself and treated of
in the light of the texts specially referring to it. Generations of
Egyptians pondered on each single point seeking to elucidate it. With
anxious fear priests and laymen strove to acquire the use of all the
formulæ by the help of which man hoped to appease the gods, overcome
demons, and attain to bliss, and all sought to provide themselves with
every amulet possessing efficacy for the world to come and import for
man’s eternal welfare. But great as must have been the expenditure of
thought which produced and developed their various religious doctrines,
the Egyptians never succeeded in welding their different beliefs and
practices into one consistent whole.
In most religions the gods of life are distinct from the gods of
death, but such a distinction scarcely existed at all in Egypt, There
the same beings who were supposed to determine the fate of man in this
world were supposed to determine it also in the world to come; only in
the case of certain deities sometimes the one and sometimes the other
side of the divine activity was brought into special prominence. The
exercise of their different functions by the gods was not in accordance
with any fixed underlying principle, was not any essential outcome of
their characters, but rather a matter of their caprice and inclination.
In course of time the Egyptian idea of these functions changed, and
was variously apprehended in different places. It seems to us at first
as though the relation of the gods to the life beyond had nearly
everywhere been regarded as more important than their relation to this
life. But this impression is owing to the fact that our material for
the study of the Egyptian religion is almost exclusively derived from
tombs and funerary temples, while the number of Egyptian monuments
unconnected with the cult of the dead is comparatively small.
On this account it has been supposed that both in their religion and
in their public life the Egyptians turned all their thoughts towards
death and what lay beyond it. But a close examination of the monuments
has proved that they had as full an enjoyment of the life here as other
nations of antiquity, and that they are not to be regarded as a stiff
and spiritless race of men whose thoughts were pedantically turned
towards the contemplation of the next world.
Had this been the case, the Egyptians would have come to hold a
pessimistic view of the life here and hereafter something like that
prevailing in India, and have striven to escape from the monotony and
dulness of existence by seeking some means to end it. But this is the
reverse of what happened in the valley of the Nile. The most ardent
wish of its inhabitants was to remain on earth as long as possible,
to attain to the age of one hundred and ten years, and to continue to
lead after death the same life which they had been wont to lead while
here. They pictured the after-life in the most material fashion; they
could imagine no fairer existence than that which they led on the banks
of the Nile. How simple and at the same time how complicated were
their conceptions can best be shown by some account of their ideas on
the immortality of the soul and its constitution as a combination of
separate parts set forth in ancient Egyptian documents.
When once a man was dead, when his heart had ceased to beat and
warmth had left his body, a lifeless hull was all that remained of
him upon earth. The first duty of the survivors was to preserve this
from destruction, and to that end it was handed over to a guild whose
duty it was to carry out its embalmment under priestly supervision.
This was done according to old and strictly established rules. The
internal and more corruptible parts were taken away, and the rest of
the body—_i.e._, the bony framework and its covering—was soaked in
natron and asphalt, smeared with sweet-smelling unguents, and made
incorruptible. The inside of the body was filled with linen bandaging
and asphalt, among which were placed all kinds of amulets symbolising
immortality−-heart-shaped vases, snake-heads in carnelian, scarabæi,
and little glazed-ware figures of divinities. By their mystic power
these amulets were intended to further and assist the preservation
of the corpse, for which physical provision had already been made by
embalmment. In about seventy days, when the work of embalmment was
completed, the body was wrapped in linen bandages, placed in a coffin,
and so returned to the family.
The friends and relatives of the deceased then carried the dead in
solemn procession across the river to his last resting-place, which
he had provided for himself in the hills forming the western boundary
of the valley of the Nile. Mourning-women accompanied the procession
with their wailing; priests burnt incense and intoned prayers, and
other priests made offerings and performed mysterious ceremonies both
during the procession and at the entrance to the tomb.[1] The mummy was
then lowered into the vault, which was closed and walled up, further
offerings were made, and afterwards the mourners partook of the funeral
feast in the ante-chamber of the tomb. Harpers were there who sang of
the dead man and of his worth, and exhorted his relations to forget
their grief and again to rejoice in life, so long as it should be
granted unto them to enjoy the light of the sun; for when life is
past man knows not what shall follow it; beyond the grave is darkness
and long sleep. Gayer and gayer grew the banquet, often degenerating
into an orgy; when at length all the guests had withdrawn, the tomb
was closed, and the dead was left alone. Afterwards it was only on
certain feast days that the relatives made pilgrimages to the city of
the dead, sometimes alone and sometimes accompanied by priests. On
these occasions they again entered the ante-chamber of the tomb, and
there offered prayers to the dead, or brought him offerings, either in
the shape of real foods and drinks, or else under the symbolic forms
of little clay models of oxen, geese, cakes of bread, and the like.
Otherwise the tomb remained unvisited. How it there fared with the dead
could only be learned from the doctrines and mysteries of religion; to
descend into the vault and disturb the peace of the mummy was accounted
a heavy crime against both gods and men.
And yet how much an Egyptian could have wished to look behind the
sealed walls of the sepulchral chamber and see what secret and
mysterious things there befell the dead! For their existence had not
terminated with death; their earthly being only had come to an end,
but they themselves had entered on a new, a higher and an eternal
life. The constituent parts, whose union in the man had made a human
life possible, separated at the moment of his death into those which
were immortal and those which were mortal. But while the latter formed
a unity, and constituted the corruptible body only ([Illustration:
{H}] KHA), on which the above-mentioned rites of embalmment were
practised, each of the former were distinct even when in combination.
These “living, indestructible” parts of a man, which together almost
correspond to our idea of the soul, had found their common home in
his living body; but on leaving it at his death each set out alone to
find its own way to the gods. If all succeeded in doing so, and it was
further proved that the deceased had been good and upright, they again
became one with him, and so entered into the company of the blessed, or
even of the gods.
The most important of all these component parts[2] was the so-called
[Illustration: {H}], KA, the divine counterpart of the deceased,
holding the same relation to him as a word to the conception which it
expresses, or a statue to the living man. It was his individuality
as embodied in the man’s name; the picture of him which was, or
might have been, called up in the minds of those who knew him at the
mention of that name.[3] Among other races similar thoughts have given
rise to higher ideas, and led to a philosophic explanation of the
distinction between personalities and persons, such as that contained
in the Platonic Ideas. But the Egyptian was incapable of abstract
thought, and was reduced to forming a purely concrete conception of
this individuality, which is strangely impressive by reason of its
thorough sensuousness. He endowed it with a material form completely
corresponding to that of the man, exactly resembling him, his second
self, his Double, his _Doppelgänger_.[4]
[Illustration: Fig. 1.—Hatshepsû, accompanied by her KA, making
perfume-offerings. (_From the temple of Dêr el Bahri._)[5]]
Many scenes, dating from the eighteenth century B.C. and onwards,
represent different kings appearing before divinities, while behind
the king stands his KA, as a little man with the king’s features
(fig. 1), or as a staff with two hands (fig. 2),[6] and surmounted by
certain symbols of royalty, or by the king’s head. In these scenes the
Personality accompanies the Person, following him as a shadow follows a
man.
[Illustration: Fig. 2.—The KA of Rameses II., represented by the
two-handed staff, standing behind the king while he slays his enemies
before Rā Harmakhis. (_From Abû Simbel_.)[7]]
[Illustration: Fig. 3.—Amenophis III. making offerings to his KA.
(_From his temple at Soleb._)[8]]
But even as early as the time of Amenophis III., about 1500 B.C.,
the Egyptians had carried the idea still further, and had completely
dissevered the Personality from the Person, the king being frequently
represented as appearing before his own Personality, which bears the
insignia of divinity, the staff of command, and the symbol of life,
the [Illustration: {H}] _ānkh_ (fig. 3). To it the king presents
offerings of every kind and prefers his petition for gifts of the gods
in exchange His Personality replies: “I give unto thee all Life, all
Stability, all Power, all Health, and all Joy (enlargement of heart);
I subdue for thee the peoples of Nubia (Khent), so that thou mayest
cut off their heads.” In bas-reliefs of the same period which represent
the birth of Amenophis III.,[9] his KA is born at the same time as the
king, and both are presented to Amen Rā, as two boys exactly alike
(fig. 4), and blessed by him. About this time the kings began to build
temples to their own Personalities, and appointed priests to them;
and from time to time the sovereign would visit his temple to implore
from himself his own protection, and still greater gifts. So long
as the king walked the earth, so long his “living KA, lord of Upper
and Lower Egypt, tarried in his dwelling, in the Abode of Splendour
([Illustration: {H}] Pa Dûat)”;[10] for his KA was himself, independent
of him, superior to him, and yet his counterpart and bound up with him.
[Illustration: Fig. 4.—The infant king, Amenophis III. and his KA,
presented to Amen Rā, the god of Thebes, by two Nile gods, and by
Horus. (_From the temple of Amenophis III., at Luxor._)[11]]
The disjunction of the Personality from the Person was not, however,
rigorously and systematically insisted upon; the two were indeed
separate, but were so far one as to come into being only through and
with each other. A man lived no longer than his KA remained with
him, and it never left him until the moment of his death. But there
was this difference in their reciprocal relations: the KA could live
without the body, but the body could not live without the KA. Yet this
does not imply that the KA was a higher, a spiritual being; it was
material in just the same way as the body itself, needing food and
drink for its well-being, and suffering hunger and thirst if these were
denied it. In this respect its lot was the common lot of Egyptian gods;
they also required bodily sustenance, and were sorely put to it if
offerings failed them and their food and drink were unsupplied.
After a man’s death his KA became his Personality proper; prayers
and offerings were made to the gods that they might grant bread and
wine, meat and milk, and all good things needful for the sustenance
of a god to the KA of the deceased.[12] Offerings were also made to
the KA itself, and it was believed that from time to time it visited
the tomb in order to accept the food there provided for it. On such
occasions it became incorporate in the mummy, which began to live and
grow ([Illustration: {H}] rûd), or renew itself as do plants and trees
([Illustration: {H}] renp), and became, as the texts occasionally
express it, “the living KA in its coffin.” The rich founded endowments
whose revenues were to be expended to all time in providing their KAS
with food offerings, and bequeathed certain sums for the maintenance of
priests to attend to this; large staffs of officials were kept up to
provide the necessaries of life for the Personalities of the dead.[13]
The KA was represented by statues of the dead man which were placed
within his tomb, and sometimes in temples also by gracious permission
of the sovereign.[14] Wherever one of these statues stood, there might
the KA sojourn and take part in Feasts of Offerings and the pleasures
of earthly life; there even seems to have been a belief that it might
be imprisoned in a statue by means of certain magic formulæ. Royal
statues in the temples were destined to the use of the royal KAS,
the many statues of the same king in one temple being apparently all
intended for his own Ka service.[15]
The Egyptians, holding the belief that the statue of a human being
represented and embodied a human KA, concluded that the statues of
the gods represented and embodied divine KAS, and were indeed neither
more nor less than the KAS of the gods. Thus the idea of divinity
became entirely anthropomorphic, and, just as the king built his
temple not to himself but to his Personality, so also sanctuaries were
sometimes dedicated not to a god himself but to his Personality.
For example, the chief temple of Memphis was not for the service of
the god Ptah,—the maker of the world, whom the Greeks compared to
Hephæstos,—but rather for that of his KA. Ptah was not alone among
the gods in this respect. The pyramid texts show that even in the times
of the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties Thot, Set, Horus, and other gods were
recognised as having KAS; that is to say, each was supposed to be
possessed of his own Personality in addition to himself.[16] It was
believed that the divine KA, this image which had the greater likeness
to man, stood nearer to man than the god himself, and hence in the case
of votive stelæ dedicated to the incarnation of Ptah in the sacred
Apis-bull of Memphis, prayer for the divine favour and blessings is not
as a rule addressed to the Apis, but to its Ka. It is a very remarkable
fact that in several inscriptions[17] the god Rā is credited with no
less than seven BAS and fourteen KAS, corresponding to the various
qualities or attributes pertaining to his own being, and which he could
communicate to the person of the king; such as: wealth, stability,
majesty, glory, might, victory, creative power, etc.[18]
Thus the apprehension of the KA, of a man’s Personality, as his
_Doppelgänger_, or _Double_, found even in some of the oldest texts,
acquired a far-reaching significance which extended not only to the
doctrine of human immortality but also to the conception of the
relations of gods to men.
As we have already stated, each man had a KA so long as he was alive,
but at his death it left him and led an independent existence. Only
after long wanderings did he meet it again in the world to come, and we
still possess the prayer with which he was to greet it, beginning with
the words, “Hail to thee who wast my KA during life! I come unto thee,”
etc.[19]
[Illustration: Fig.: 5.—SET OF “CANOPIC” VASES.[21]