A MIGHTY MAN
Our beds face the windows, which open like high glass doors, French
fashion; before retiring we set them wide, and close outside the long
shutters made of slats of wood. In the morning we are awakened suddenly,
almost at the same instant, by a red flame glowing between the slats as
fire glows between the bars of a grate. Springing from our curtains we
fling open the shutters, expecting to see a great conflagration, and
behold, it is the sunrise!
The sun does not greet us in such boisterous fashion in England! Here it
fills the sky with a blood-red radiance and lights up the palm groves
in the garden below, where a mighty congregation of small birds are
shrieking out their joy to greet the god of morning. There is an
intensity in it all, in the flaming sky, and in the thrill of the birds'
clarion that sends exhilaration into our veins and makes us feel it is
good to be alive!
It is not long before we are out and around the garden--and what a
garden! Strange coffee-coloured men in blue garments like smock frocks,
with baggy blue trousers caught tightly round their ankles, appear and
disappear noiselessly, their bare brown feet making no sound on the
sanded paths. There is something unreal about it all, something that
makes one think of the _Arabian Nights_ and an enchanted garden. The
hotel is called "The Winter Palace," and in England we should associate
such a name with a vast artificially warmed glasshouse filled with
broad-leaved plants of dark green; here, right overhead, is a tall bush
covered with masses of sulphur-coloured flowers, shaped like tiny
trumpets, hanging in festoons against a sky of glorious blue. Through
plumed palms we catch glimpses of the spreading fingers of a deep red
poinsettia; there is a pink frilled flower shooting toward the sky, so
decorative that it looks exactly like those made of crinkled paper for
decorations; this is the well-known oleander. The grass is so vividly
green that it seems as if the greenness sprang away from the blades; as
we draw near to it we see that it is not all matted together and
interwoven, as is our grass, but is composed of separate blades, each
one apart and upright, all together standing like a regiment of
soldiers. It has to be sown every year freshly, for no roots can survive
the long drought. Close by is a lawn of bare earth, and a boy of about
your age, with a thin pathetic brown face, runs round and round it,
shouting and waving a flapper to keep off the birds from the newly sown
seed.
We are just going to plunge into a grove of trees--some acacias with
leaves like delicate ferns, and others eucalyptus with long narrow
leaves looking like frosted silver--when we find they are growing in a
swamp, with the earth banked up all round to keep the water in!
Other flowers, familiar to us in England, such as roses, look rather
pale and washed-out here in contrast with the flaming beauty of richest
mauve and brightest orange worn by those which are at home in a hot
country. As the sun gets strong we hear the drone of a swarm of great
creatures like prodigious wasps with legs like stilts, which fly around
the sweet-scented blooms. In ancient inscriptions this wasp, or hornet,
was used as the sign of Northern or Lower Egypt. Across the flower-beds
run miniature canals of stone, by means of which the water from the
life-giving river is carried all over the ground, so that it can be
easily watered; a very large part of the time of the blue-bloused
gardeners is spent in watering. A garden which was watered from the sky
would be a miracle to them.
We come back again to the hotel and pass through to the other or front
entrance, where we catch sight of the majestic Nile, which we could not
see in the darkness of our arrival last night. Standing on a high
terrace, bounded by a parapet covered with riotous masses of magenta
bougainvillea, we see the turquoise-blue river, flecked with boats
carrying high, white, three-cornered sails; on the other side rise calm
hills of orange-yellow. We shall visit those hills, for in them are
buried some of the mightiest kings of Egypt, and the wild fastnesses
form a truly royal burial-place, grander than any ordinary mausoleum or
cemetery could ever be. On both sides of the river at one time stood the
royal city of Thebes, one of the best known of all the capitals of Egypt
which sprang up from time to time in its agelong history.
If ever you "do" the ix. book of the _Iliad_ in your schoolwork, you
will find that Homer speaks of Thebes as having one hundred gates and
possessing twenty thousand war-chariots! It extended for about nine
miles along the river-bank.
After breakfast our first plunge into sight-seeing is a visit to the
temple of Luxor, which faces the river just five minutes' walk along the
street from the hotel. This is the very first Egyptian temple we have
examined and it is astonishing how much we can learn from it. That
mighty row of columns, larger and higher than any cathedral pillars you
have ever seen, makes us feel like midgets. Standing close together the
columns spring right into the clear sky, as there is no roof left. Not
so very long ago they were covered up to the capitals in sand and
debris. The poorer Egyptians had built their mud huts in and around them
for generations, and when one hut crumbled away another was put up on
the top of it, and thus the level of the accumulated earth grew higher
and higher. Then some learned Frenchmen saw the wonder of the buried
temple and bought the people out, persuading them to go elsewhere, and
they gradually cleared away the rubbish until the original beauty of the
temple was visible again. Even now, high up on all sides, you can see
the depth of the earth surrounding it like cliffs, and on the top are
squalid huts with dirty children and fluffy impudent goats and
shrill-voiced, black-clad women, living their daily lives and looking
down into the temple.
The ancient Egyptian writing was by signs--a bird meant one thing, a
flower another, and a serpent another, and so on, but for a long time
the meaning of it had been forgotten, and it was impossible for anyone
to read these wonderful signs. But at the very end of the eighteenth
century a great stone was found which had upon it an inscription written
in Greek and in hieroglyphics, as the sign-writing was called, and also
in another writing which used to be employed by the priests, and from
this, before many years had passed, clever men were able to understand
the language of signs and read the inscriptions on the temples, which
told who had built them and much else. This stone was called the Rosetta
Stone, after the place where it was found. It is now in the British
Museum.
This was long before Luxor was unearthed, and the inscriptions were
deciphered as they came to light; by their help it was found that the
temple had been built chiefly by two kings, Amenhetep III. and Rameses
II. who came after him, though not immediately. Rameses added to the
existing work and carried it on. So far as we know all this was between
three and four thousand years ago. In a village in England people are
proud if they can point to any part of their parish church and say,
"This is Norman work," and yet the Normans only came over to England
less than nine hundred years ago! Go back more than three times that,
and try to realise the age of this temple. And even this, as we know, is
not old compared with the Pyramids! Doesn't it make us feel that, as a
nation, we are rather young after all?
Long before we were a nation these mighty kings flourished in Egypt and
lived in pomp and splendour. They each had a different name, of course,
and more than one, but yet they were all Pharaohs, just as at one time
in the Roman Empire each emperor was a Caesar.
The Pharaohs had unlimited power in their own dominions, and forced
their subjects to work for them as they pleased without giving them any
payment. By some means we can't understand these mighty blocks of
sandstone composing this temple and many others were brought from a
place farther up the river. It is supposed that they were put on great
rafts and floated down at flood-time, but the handling of them is still
a mystery. The men who dealt with them had no steel tools, no driving
force of steam or electricity at their backs, yet they reared buildings
which we to-day, with all our appliances, think masterpieces.
Rameses II. was called the Great; he reigned for over sixty years, and
he has a peculiar interest for us because he is believed to have been
the Pharaoh who oppressed the Israelites, while his son and successor,
Menepthah, was the Pharaoh of the Exodus.
Walk up the great aisle of giant columns into the courtyard at the end,
there, between the pillars, stand massive images of granite, most of
them headless, but one perfect except for the ends of the fingers and
toes.
[Illustration: STATUE OF RAMESES II. AT LUXOR.]
Sit down on this fallen block and look at that marvellous image; it is
the mighty Rameses himself! There is a repressed energy and indomitable
purpose about him that tells in every line of a man who never let go and
never allowed himself to be thwarted. His almond-shaped eyes and full
lips, the proud tilt of his head, are not merely conventional, they are
an actual likeness of the man taken from life. He is every inch a king.
His successor, who was his thirteenth son, was probably of the same
type, and one can well imagine his scornful indignation at being asked
to yield up that nation of slaves, the Israelites, whom he treated as we
would not treat animals nowadays. The miracle is that Moses was not
instantly slain for his boldness in proposing it; he was, of course,
screened by his relationship to Pharaoh's daughter, but that would have
counted little had he not been protected by a power far above that of
the king of Egypt.
Close down under the knee of the standing Rameses is the figure of a
plump woman, his favourite wife, Nefertari. The Egyptians had the rather
childish idea that size meant importance, and to them now, as well as
then, women seemed of much less importance than men, so the wife was
represented as being about as high as her husband's knee. In spite of
this, however, women of royal blood were treated with great deference,
and royal ladies enjoyed a freedom like that of western women to-day.
They gave their opinions and transacted business and were seen in
public. Many a king only sat securely on his throne because his wife had
a better title to it than he had. This did not, however, prevent them
from making women very often quite diminutive in size in their statues,
though in some cases the king and queen are the same size and are shown
seated side by side.
It is very quiet and beautiful here in the temple this Sunday morning;
the natives themselves are not allowed to come in, and visitors only on
production of a ticket costing twenty-four shillings, which admits to
all the temples of Egypt; and, as it happens, there is no one but
ourselves. The sparrows twitter overhead in the holes and crannies of
the pillars, and the great grey and black crows wheel silently against
the blue sky, throwing moving shadows on the honey-coloured columns.
If we walk round the back of these solemn statues we shall see that
there is a quantity of deeply cut hieroglyphic writing on a great plaque
at the back of each. The name of the king himself is always written
enclosed in an oblong space called a cartouche; sometimes this cartouche
is supported by two cobras, who are supposed to defend it. The rest of
the writing tells of the deeds of the king and all the mighty feats that
he performed.
Turning to the walls we find them covered with pictures, not coloured
but done in outline by means of deep-cut clean lines. We see the king
offering fruit to weird-looking beings with men's bodies and animals'
heads--these were the Egyptian gods; there were numbers of them, far too
many to remember, but here are a few: Anubis, the jackal-headed; Thoth,
the stork-headed; Sekhet, a goddess with a lion's head (some say a
cat's). Besides these there were others of great importance: Osiris, the
god of the dead, and Isis, his wife--these were the father and mother of
Horus, the hawk-headed god. But it was to the glory of Amen-ra, the king
or chief of all the gods, who can be recognised in the pictures by two
tall feathers like quills standing straight up on his head, that that
particular temple was built.
[Illustration: AN EGYPTIAN KING.]
On one of the walls we see a long row of men, all exactly similar, one
behind the other--these are some of the numerous sons of Rameses making
offerings. You soon notice that in spite of the vigorous and excellent
outlines of these pictures there is something funny and stiff about
them. That is because the Egyptians had an odd custom of drawing a
person sideways, with his two feet in a straight line, one behind the
other. No one stands like that in real life, and if you try it you will
find how difficult it is not to fall over! Also, though the people they
drew were invariably shown from the side, yet the artists used to make
them look as if they were squared round in the upper part to show the
chest and both shoulders, so that Egyptians in pictures always look
oddly wedge-shaped, being very broad at the top and narrow below. The
eye was also put into the profile face as if it were seen from the
front! Look at any typical Egyptian picture and you will soon pick out
these peculiarities. It seems rather a pity they kept so rigidly to
these silly notions, as they really drew extremely well; but no artist
was original enough to dare to break away from the established custom!
[Illustration: AN EGYPTIAN QUEEN.]
Inside the temple walls all these scenes have something to do with the
gods and the offerings made to them by the king, but come outside and on
one of the finest bits of wall still standing you will see a most
spirited battle-scene. Look at the king in his chariot with the plunging
horses! He is drawing his bow and pursuing his enemies, who are dead and
dying under his wheels, and fleeing before him. To show how much more
important he was than the enemies he had himself made very large and the
enemies shown very small. That is not quite our idea of honour and glory
nowadays; we should think it more glorious to overcome enemies larger
and stronger than ourselves! This afternoon we are going to visit a
still larger and more wonderful temple, a mile or two away, called
Karnak, and there you will see pictures of the king of that time holding
the hair of his enemies' heads in the powerful grasp of his left hand
while he prepares to strike off all their heads at one sweep with his
sword.
The original entrance of Luxor temple does not face the river on the
side we came in; to find it we have to scramble over heaps of rubbish to
one end and there we see a great obelisk, a companion to the one which
is now in the principal square of Paris, the Place de la Concorde, and
we see also two huge buildings reared up on each side of the ancient
entrance--these were called pylons and were always built in Egyptian
temples. On festival days they were decorated with flags on tall staves
and made very gay.
Then we go out again into the main street amid all the life of the
place, and see men cantering past on gaily caparisoned donkeys; we note
dancing, capering, gleeful children, guides in gorgeous gowns, shopmen
of some mixed nationality from the Mediterranean, who run out of their
shops and entreat you to come in. "Only look round, no paying, not
wanting you buy," they lie. "Look and be pleased; there is no charge
just only to look."
We stop at last and buy two fly-whisks with short bamboo handles and
long silvery horsehair tails; of course they do look very smart, but we
do not buy them just for that, but because they are useful.
As we have found already, nothing less than physical force suffices to
remove an Egyptian fly, who sticketh closer than his English brother. No
shake or puff will induce him to stir an eyelid, and yet he is quick on
the wing and you rarely get him, sleepy as he appears! He doesn't buzz,
and there generally appears to be only one of him, but if, by the aid of
a fly-whisk, you get rid of him, another takes his place immediately!
[Illustration: THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS.]