Book: The Treasury of Ancient Egypt

A >> Arthur E. P. B. Weigall >> The Treasury of Ancient Egypt




The reader will not need to be reminded that this great renaissance was
the direct result of the study of the remains of the ancient arts of
Greece and Rome. Botticelli and his contemporaries were, in a sense,
archaeologists, for their work was inspired by the relics of ancient
days.

Now, though at first sight it seems incredible that such an age of
barbarism as that of the later Byzantine period should return, it is
indeed quite possible that a relatively uncultured age should come upon
us in the future; and there is every likelihood of certain communities
passing over to the ranks of the absolute Philistines. Socialism run
mad would have no more time to give to the intellect than it had during
the French Revolution. Any form of violent social upheaval means
catalepsy of the arts and crafts, and a trampling under foot of old
traditions. The invasions and revolts which are met with at the close of
ancient Egyptian history brought the culture of that country to the
lowest ebb of vitality. The fall of Greece put an absolute stop to the
artistic life of that nation. The invasions of Italy by the inhabitants
of less refined countries caused a set-back in civilisation for which
almost the whole of Europe suffered. Certain of the French arts and
crafts have never recovered from the effects of the Revolution.

A national convulsion of one kind or another is to be expected by every
country; and history tells us that such a convulsion is generally
followed by an age of industrial and artistic coma, which is brought to
an end not so much by the introduction of foreign ideas as by a
renascence of the early traditions of the nation. It thus behoves every
man to interest himself in the continuity of these traditions, and to
see that they are so impressed upon the mind that they shall survive all
upheavals, or with ease be re-established.

There is no better tonic for a people who have weakened, and whose arts,
crafts, and industries have deteriorated than a return to the conditions
which obtained at a past age of national prosperity; and there are few
more repaying tasks in the long-run than that of reviving an interest in
the best periods of artistic or industrial activity. This can only be
effected by the study of the past, that is to say by archaeology.

It is to be remembered, of course, that the sentimental interest in
antique objects which, in recent years, has given a huge value to all
ancient things, regardless of their intrinsic worth, is a dangerous
attitude, unless it is backed by the most expert knowledge; for instead
of directing the attention only to the best work of the best periods, it
results in the diminishing of the output of modern original work and the
setting of little of worth in its place. A person of a certain
fashionable set will now boast that there is no object in his room less
than two hundred years old: his only boast, however, should be that the
room contains nothing which is not of intrinsic beauty, interest, or
good workmanship. The old chairs from the kitchen are dragged into the
drawing-room--because they are old; miniatures unmeritoriously painted
by unknown artists for obscure clients are nailed in conspicuous
places--because they are old; hideous plates and dishes, originally made
by ignorant workmen for impoverished peasants, are enclosed in glass
cases--because they are old; iron-bound chests, which had been cheaply
made to suit the purses of farmers, are rescued from the cottages of
their descendants and sold for fabulous sums--because they are old.

A person who fills a drawing-room with chairs, tables, and ornaments,
dating from the reign of Queen Anne, cannot say that he does so because
he wishes it to look like a room of that date; for if this were his
desire, he would have to furnish it with objects which appeared to be
newly made, since in the days of Queen Anne the first quality noticeable
in them would have been their newness. In fact, to produce the desired
effect everything in the room, with very few exceptions, would have to
be a replica. To sit in this room full of antiques in a frock-coat would
be as bad a breach of good taste as the placing of a Victorian
chandelier in an Elizabethan banqueting-hall. To furnish the room with
genuine antiquities because they are old and therefore interesting would
be to carry the museum spirit into daily life with its attending
responsibilities, and would involve all manner of incongruities and
inconsistencies; while to furnish in this manner because antiques were
valuable would be merely vulgar. There are, thus, only three
justifications that I can see for the action of the man who surrounds
himself with antiquities: he must do so because they are examples of
workmanship, because they are beautiful, or because they are endeared to
him by family usage. These, of course, are full and complete
justifications; and the value of his attitude should be felt in the
impetus which it gives to conscientious modern work. There are periods
in history at which certain arts, crafts, or industries reached an
extremely high level of excellence; and nothing can be more valuable to
modern workmen than familiarity with these periods. Well-made replicas
have a value that is overlooked only by the inartistic. Nor must it be
forgotten that modern objects of modern design will one day become
antiquities; and it should be our desire to assist in the making of the
period of our lifetime an age to which future generations will look back
for guidance and teaching. Every man can, in this manner, be of use to a
nation, if only by learning to reject poor work wherever he comes upon
it--work which he feels would not stand against the criticism of Time;
and thus it may be said that archaeology, which directs him to the best
works of the ancients, and sets him a standard and criterion, should be
an essential part of his education.


[Illustration: PL. II Wood and enamel jewel-case discovered in the tomb
of Yuaa and Tuau. An example of the furniture of
one of the best periods of ancient Egyptian art.
--CAIRO MUSEUM.]

[_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha._


The third argument which I wish to employ here to demonstrate the value
of the study of archaeology and history to the layman is based upon the
assumption that patriotism is a desirable ingredient in a man's
character. This is a premise which assuredly will be admitted. True
patriotism is essential to the maintenance of a nation. It has taken the
place, among certain people, of loyalty to the sovereign; for the armies
which used to go to war out of a blind loyalty to their king, now do so
from a sense of patriotism which is shared by the monarch (if they
happen to have the good fortune to possess one).

Patriotism is often believed to consist of a love of one's country, in
an affection for the familiar villages or cities, fields or streets, of
one's own dwelling-place. This is a grievous error. Patriotism should be
an unqualified desire for the welfare of the race as a whole. It is not
really patriotic for the Englishman to say, "I love England": it is only
natural. It is not patriotic for him to say, "I don't think much of
foreigners": it is only a form of narrowness of mind which, in the case
of England and certain other countries, happens sometimes to be rather a
useful attitude, but in the case of several nations, of which a good
example is Egypt, would be detrimental to their own interests. It was
not unqualified patriotism that induced the Greeks to throw off the
Ottoman yoke: it was largely dislike of the Turks. It is not patriotism,
that is to say undiluted concern for the nation as a whole, which leads
some of the modern Egyptians to prefer an entirely native government to
the Anglo-Egyptian administration now obtaining in that country: it is
restlessness; and I am fortunately able to define it thus without the
necessity of entering the arena of polemics by an opinion as to whether
that restlessness is justified or not justified.

If patriotism were but the love of one's tribe and one's dwelling-place,
then such undeveloped or fallen races as, for example, the American
Indians, could lay their downfall at the door of that sentiment; since
the exclusive love of the tribe prevented the small bodies from
amalgamating into one great nation for the opposing of the invader. If
patriotism were but the desire for government without interference, then
the breaking up of the world's empires would be urged, and such
federations as the United States of America would be intolerable.

Patriotism is, and must be, the desire for the progress and welfare of
the whole nation, without any regard whatsoever to the conditions under
which that progress takes place, and without any prejudice in favour
either of self-government or of outside control. I have no hesitation in
saying that the patriotic Pole is he who is in favour of Russian or
German control of his country's affairs; for history has told him quite
plainly that he cannot manage them himself. The Nationalist in any
country runs the risk of being the poorest patriot in the land, for his
continuous cry is for self-government, without any regard to the
question as to whether such government will be beneficial to his nation
in the long-run.

The value of history to patriotism, then, is to be assessed under two
headings. In the first place, history defines the attitude which the
patriot should assume. It tells him, in the clear light of experience,
what is, and what is not, good for his nation, and indicates to him how
much he may claim for his country. And in the second place, it gives to
the patriots of those nations which have shown capacity and ability in
the past a confidence in the present; it permits in them the indulgence
of that enthusiasm which will carry them, sure-footed, along the path
of glory.

Archaeology, as the discovery and classification of the facts of history,
is the means by which we may obtain a true knowledge of what has
happened in the past. It is the instrument with which we may dissect
legend, and extract from myth its ingredients of fact. Cold history
tells the Greek patriot, eager to enter the fray, that he must set
little store by the precedent of the deeds of the Trojan war. It tells
the English patriot that the "one jolly Englishman" of the old rhyme is
not the easy vanquisher of the "two froggy Frenchmen and one Portugee"
which tradition would have him believe. He is thus enabled to steer a
middle course between arrant conceit and childish fright. History tells
him the actual facts: history is to the patriot what "form" is to the
racing man.

In the case of the English (Heaven be praised!) history opens up a
boundless vista for the patriotic. The Englishman seldom realises how
much he has to be proud of in his history, or how loudly the past cries
upon him to be of good cheer. One hears much nowadays of England's
peril, and it is good that the red signals of danger should sometimes be
displayed. But let every Englishman remember that history can tell him
of greater perils faced successfully; of mighty armies commanded by the
greatest generals the world has ever known, held in check year after
year, and finally crushed by England; of vast fleets scattered or
destroyed by English sailors; of almost impregnable cities captured by
British troops. "There is something very characteristic," writes
Professor Seeley,[1] "in the indifference which we show towards the
mighty phenomenon of the diffusion of our race and the expansion of our
state. We seem, as it were, to have conquered and peopled half the world
in a fit of absence of mind."

[Footnote 1: 'The Expansion of England,' p. 10.]

The history of England, and later of the British Empire, constitutes a
tale so amazing that he who has the welfare of the nation as a whole at
heart--that is to say, the true patriot--is justified in entertaining
the most optimistic thoughts for the future. He should not be
indifferent to the past: he should bear it in mind all the time.
Patriotism may not often be otherwise than misguided if no study of
history has been made. The patriot of one nation will wish to procure
for his country a freedom which history would show him to have been its
very curse; and the patriot of another nation will encourage a
nervousness and restraint in his people which history would tell him was
unnecessary. The English patriot has a history to read which, at the
present time, it is especially needful for him to consider; and, since
Egyptology is my particular province, I cannot better close this
argument than by reminding the modern Egyptians that their own history
of four thousand years and its teaching must be considered by them when
they speak of patriotism. A nation so talented as the descendants of the
Pharaohs, so industrious, so smart and clever, should give a far larger
part of its attention to the arts, crafts, and industries, of which
Egyptian archaeology has to tell so splendid a story.

As a final argument for the value of the study of history and archaeology
an aspect of the question may be placed before the reader which will
perhaps be regarded as fanciful, but which, in all sincerity, I believe
to be sober sense.

In this life of ours which, under modern conditions, is lived at so
great a speed, there is a growing need for a periodical pause wherein
the mind may adjust the relationship of the things that have been to
those that are. So rapidly are our impressions received and assimilated,
so individually are they shaped or classified, that, in whatever
direction our brains lead us, we are speedily carried beyond that
province of thought which is common to us all. A man who lives alone
finds himself, in a few months, out of touch with the thought of his
contemporaries; and, similarly, a man who lives in what is called an
up-to-date manner soon finds himself grown unsympathetic to the sober
movement of the world's slow round-about.

Now, the man who lives alone presently developes some of the recognised
eccentricities of the recluse, which, on his return to society, cause
him to be regarded as a maniac; and the man who lives entirely in the
present cannot argue that the characteristics which he has developed are
less maniacal because they are shared by his associates. Rapidly he,
too, has become eccentric; and just as the solitary man must needs come
into the company of his fellows if he would retain a healthy mind, so
the man who lives in the present must allow himself occasional
intercourse with the past if he would keep his balance.


[Illustration: PL. III. Heavy gold earrings of Queen Tausert of Dynasty
XX. An example of the work of ancient Egyptian
goldsmiths.
--CAIRO MUSEUM.]

[_Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha._


Heraclitus, in a quotation preserved by Sextus Empiricus,[1] writes: "It
behoves us to follow the common reason of the world; yet, though there
is a common reason in the world, the majority live as though they
possessed a wisdom peculiar each unto himself alone." Every one of us
who considers his mentality an important part of his constitution should
endeavour to give himself ample opportunities of adjusting his mind to
this "common reason" which is the silver thread that runs unbroken
throughout history. We should remember the yesterdays, that we may know
what the pother of to-day is about; and we should foretell to-morrow not
by to-day but by every day that has been.

[Footnote 1: Bywater: 'Heracliti Ephesii Reliquiae,' p. 38.]

Forgetfulness is so common a human failing. In our rapid transit through
life we are so inclined to forget the past stages of the journey. All
things pass by and are swallowed up in a moment of time. Experiences
crowd upon us; the events of our life occur, are recorded by our busy
brains, are digested, and are forgotten before the substance of which
they were made has resolved into its elements. We race through the
years, and our progress is headlong through the days.

Everything, as it is done with, is swept up into the basket of the past,
and the busy handmaids, unless we check them, toss the contents, good
and bad, on to the great rubbish heap of the world's waste. Loves,
hates, gains, losses, all things upon which we do not lay fierce and
strong hands, are gathered into nothingness, and, with a few exceptions,
are utterly forgotten.

And we, too, will soon have passed, and our little brains which have
forgotten so much will be forgotten. We shall be throttled out of the
world and pressed by the clumsy hands of Death into the mould of that
same rubbish-hill of oblivion, unless there be a stronger hand to save
us. We shall be cast aside, and left behind by the hurrying crowd,
unless there be those who will see to it that our soul, like that of
John Brown, goes marching along. There is only one human force stronger
than death, and that force is History, By it the dead are made to live
again: history is the salvation of the mortal man as religion is the
salvation of his immortal life.

Sometimes, then, in our race from day to day it is necessary to stop the
headlong progress of experience, and, for an hour, to look back upon the
past. Often, before we remember to direct our mind to it, that past is
already blurred, and dim. The picture is out of focus, and turning from
it in sorrow instantly the flight of our time begins again. This should
not be. "There is," says Emerson, "a relationship between the hours of
our life and the centuries of time." Let us give history and archaeology
its due attention; for thus not only shall we be rendering a service to
all the dead, not only shall we be giving a reason and a usefulness to
their lives, but we shall also lend to our own thought a balance which
in no otherwise can be obtained, we shall adjust ourselves to the true
movement of the world, and, above all, we shall learn how best to serve
that nation to which it is our inestimable privilege to belong.




CHAPTER II.

THE EGYPTIAN EMPIRE.


"History," says Sir J. Seeley, "lies before science as a mass of
materials out of which a political doctrine can be deduced.... Politics
are vulgar when they are not liberalised by history, and history fades
into mere literature when it loses sight of its relation to practical
politics.... Politics and history are only different aspects of the same
study."[1]

[Footnote 1: 'The Expansion of England.']

These words, spoken by a great historian, form the keynote of a book
which has run into nearly twenty editions; and they may therefore be
regarded as having some weight. Yet what historian of old Egyptian
affairs concerns himself with the present welfare and future prospects
of the country, or how many statesmen in Egypt give close attention to a
study of the past? To the former the Egypt of modern times offers no
scope for his erudition, and gives him no opportunity of making
"discoveries," which is all he cares about. To the latter, Egyptology
appears to be but a pleasant amusement, the main value of which is the
finding of pretty scarabs suitable for the necklaces of one's lady
friends. Neither the one nor the other would for a moment admit that
Egyptology and Egyptian politics "are only different aspects of the same
study." And yet there can be no doubt that they are.

It will be argued that the historian of ancient Egypt deals with a
period so extremely remote that it can have no bearing upon the
conditions of modern times, when the inhabitants of Egypt have altered
their language, religion, and customs, and the Mediterranean has ceased
to be the active centre of the civilised world. But it is to be
remembered that the study of Egyptology carries one down to the
Muhammedan invasion without much straining of the term, and merges then
into the study of the Arabic period at so many points that no real
termination can be given to the science; while the fact of the
remoteness of its beginnings but serves to give it a greater value,
since the vista before the eyes is wider.

It is my object in this chapter to show that the ancient history of
Egypt has a real bearing on certain aspects of the polemics of the
country. I need not again touch upon the matters which were referred to
on page 8 in order to demonstrate this fact. I will take but one
subject--namely, that of Egypt's foreign relations and her wars in other
lands. It will be best, for this purpose, to show first of all that the
ancient and modern Egyptians are one and the same people; and,
secondly, that the political conditions, broadly speaking, are much the
same now as they have been throughout history.

Professor Elliot Smith, F.R.S., has shown clearly enough, from the study
of bones of all ages, that the ancient and modern inhabitants of the
Nile Valley are precisely the same people anthropologically; and this
fact at once sets the matter upon an unique footing: for, with the
possible exception of China, there is no nation in the world which can
be proved thus to have retained its type for so long a period. This one
fact makes any parallel with Greece or Rome impossible. The modern
Greeks have not much in common, anthropologically, with the ancient
Greeks, for the blood has become very mixed; the Italians are not the
same as the old Romans; the English are the result of a comparatively
recent conglomeration of types. But in Egypt the subjects of archaic
Pharaohs, it seems certain, were exactly similar to those of the modern
Khedives, and new blood has never been introduced into the nation to an
appreciable extent, not even by the Arabs. Thus, if there is any
importance in the bearing of history upon politics, we have in Egypt a
better chance of appreciating it than we have in the case of any other
country.

It is true that the language has altered, but this is not a matter of
first-rate importance. A Jew is not less typical because he speaks
German, French, or English; and the cracking of skulls in Ireland is
introduced as easily in English as it was in Erse. The old language of
the Egyptian hieroglyphs actually is not yet quite dead; for, in its
Coptic form, it is still spoken by many Christian Egyptians, who will
salute their friends in that tongue, or bid them good-morning or
good-night. Ancient Egyptian in this form is read in the Coptic
churches; and God is called upon by that same name which was given to
Amon and his colleagues. Many old Egyptian words have crept into the
Arabic language, and are now in common use in the country; while often
the old words are confused with Arabic words of similar sound. Thus, at
Abydos, the archaic fortress is now called the _Shunet es Zebib_, which
in Arabic would have the inexplicable meaning "the store-house of
raisins"; but in the old Egyptian language its name, of similar sound,
meant "the fortress of the Ibis-jars," several of these sacred birds
having been buried there in jars, after the place had been disused as a
military stronghold. A large number of Egyptian towns still bear their
hieroglyphical names: Aswan, (Kom) Ombo, Edfu, Esneh, Keft, Kus, Keneh,
Dendereh, for example. The real origin of these being now forgotten,
some of them have been given false Arabic derivations, and stories have
been invented to account for the peculiar significance of the words thus
introduced. The word _Silsileh_ in Arabic means "a chain," and a place
in Upper Egypt which bears that name is now said to be so called
because a certain king here stretched a chain across the river to
interrupt the shipping; but in reality the name is derived from a
mispronounced hieroglyphical word meaning "a boundary." Similarly the
town of Damanhur in Lower Egypt is said to be the place at which a great
massacre took place, for in Arabic the name may be interpreted as
meaning "rivers of blood," whereas actually the name in Ancient Egyptian
means simply "the Town of Horus." The archaeological traveller in Egypt
meets with instances of the continued use of the language of the
Pharaohs at every turn; and there are few things that make the science
of Egyptology more alive, or remove it further from the dusty atmosphere
of the museum, than this hearing of the old words actually spoken by the
modern inhabitants of the land.

The religion of Ancient Egypt, like those of Greece and Rome, was killed
by Christianity, which largely gave place, at a later date, to
Muhammedanism; and yet, in the hearts of the people there are still an
extraordinary number of the old pagan beliefs. I will mention a few
instances, taking them at random from my memory.

In, ancient days the ithiphallic god Min was the patron of the crops,
who watched over the growth of the grain. In modern times a degenerate
figure of this god Min, made of whitewashed wood and mud, may be seen
standing, like a scarecrow, in the fields throughout Egypt. When the
sailors cross the Nile they may often be heard singing _Ya Amuni, Ya
Amuni_, "O Amon, O Amon," as though calling upon that forgotten god for
assistance. At Aswan those who are about to travel far still go up to
pray at the site of the travellers' shrine, which was dedicated to the
gods of the cataracts. At Thebes the women climb a certain hill to make
their supplications at the now lost sanctuary of Meretsegert, the
serpent-goddess of olden times. A snake, the relic of the household
goddess, is often kept as a kind of pet in the houses of the peasants.
Barren women still go to the ruined temples of the forsaken gods in the
hope that there is virtue in the stones; and I myself have given
permission to disappointed husbands to take their childless wives to
these places, where they have kissed the stones and embraced the figures
of the gods. The hair of the jackal is burnt in the presence of dying
people, even of the upper classes, unknowingly to avert the jackal-god
Anubis, the Lord of Death. A scarab representing the god of creation is
sometimes placed in the bath of a young married woman to give virtue to
the water. A decoration in white paint over the doorways of certain
houses in the south is a relic of the religious custom of placing a
bucranium there to avert evil. Certain temple-watchmen still call upon
the spirits resident in the sanctuaries to depart before they will enter
the building. At Karnak a statue of the goddess Sekhmet is regarded
with holy awe; and the goddess who once was said to have massacred
mankind is even now thought to delight in slaughter. The golden barque
of Amon-Ra, which once floated upon the sacred lake of Karnak, is said
to be seen sometimes by the natives at the present time, who have not
yet forgotten its former existence. In the processional festival of
Abu'l Haggag, the patron saint of Luxor, whose mosque and tomb stand
upon the ruins of the Temple of Amon, a boat is dragged over the ground
in unwitting remembrance of the dragging of the boat of Amon in the
processions of that god. Similarly in the _Mouled el Nebi_ procession at
Luxor, boats placed upon carts are drawn through the streets, just as
one may see them in the ancient paintings and reliefs. The patron gods
of Kom Ombo, Horur and Sebek, yet remain in the memories of the peasants
of the neighbourhood as the two brothers who lived in the temple in the
days of old. A robber entering a tomb will smash the eyes of the figures
of the gods and deceased persons represented therein, that they may not
observe his actions, just as did his ancestors four thousand years ago.
At Gurneh a farmer recently broke the arms of an ancient statue, which
lay half-buried near his fields, because he believed that they had
damaged his crops. In the south of Egypt a pot of water is placed upon
the graves of the dead, that their ghost, or _ka_, as it would have been
called in old times, may not suffer from thirst; and the living will
sometimes call upon the name of the dead, standing at night in the
cemeteries.

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