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 stil exists even as a ruin.
Moreover the tombs were constructed in the dry desert or in the solid hilside, whereas the [84]
dweling-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 wil be
realised how sincere was the light-heartedness of the Egyptians when it is remembered that
almost everything in the folowing 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
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assertion the reader wil, in most cases, find cause for surprise. The Greek travelers 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 [85]
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 dwelings of the dead. Their wals fal 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, [86]
dating from about B.C. 2000, from which the folowing 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 al 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 fuly towards the end of this chapter reads: "Folow 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 [87]
wonderful degree of cheerfulness, and a fine disregard for misfortune. Their forefathers,
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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 colection 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 [88]
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, ful-throated, and often
wonderfuly melodious. A peculiar sweetness and tenderness wil be noticed in the folowing
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 wil my angry mother say?
With basket ful 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 filed 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—
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"I am thy first sister, and to me thou art as a garden which I have planted with
flowers and al sweet-smeling herbs. And I have directed a canal into it, that
[89]
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 ful 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 realy painful to think of these words as having falen from the lips of what is now a resin-
smeling lump of bones and hardened flesh, perhaps stil 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 wel 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 [90]
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 labeled 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 untrammeled 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 tal 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, [91]
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 practicaly 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 wholy
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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 [92]
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 realy 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 briliant colours, formed the setting of processions and ceremonies in
which music, rhythmic motion, and colour were brought to a point of excelence. 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 briliancy and festivity as an [93]
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 councilor
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 falen 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 al 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 al times the Egyptians decked themselves with flowers, and rich
and poor alike breathed what they caled "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 specialy 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
[94]
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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-
smeling 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 al galas and carnivals. The room in which a feast was held was
decorated lavishly with flowers. Blossoms crept up the delicate pilars 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 filed it with al 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 ful 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 cal to a passing maiden to come into its shade.
"Come," it says, "and spend this festal day, and to-morrow, and the day after
[95]
to-morrow, sitting in my shadow. Let thy lover sit at thy side, and let him
drink.... Thy servants wil come with the dinner-things—they wil bring drink of
every kind, with al manner of cakes, flowers of yesterday and of to-day, and al
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 al
sides.
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[Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha.
A garland of leaves and flowers dating from about B.C. 1000. It was placed upon the neck of a mummy.
—CAIRO MUSEUM.
PL. IX.
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 briliancy 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 briliant wal-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 [96]
for a display of their originality and skil, 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
Tel 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
equaly 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 al that they lacked in variety of design. In the Middle and New Empires the
robes of the men were as many-hued as their wal 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
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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 gracefuly over his arm; decorated sandals cover his feet and curl up over his toes; [97]
and in his hand he carries a jeweled 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 smel 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 generaly be discovered by a study of the personal
names of the people. The names by which the Egyptians caled 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 wel-
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 equaly indicative of the temperament of a nation. The stories [98]
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-teler;
and it is to be supposed that such persons were in as much demand in the old days as they are
now. One may stil 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 [99]
caled 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 finaly 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.
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The Egyptians often amused themselves by drawing comic pictures and caricatures, and there
is an interesting series stil preserved in which animals take the place of human beings, and are
shown performing al 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