by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER 1.
By the walls of Thebes--the old city of a hundred gates--the Nilespreads to a broad river; the heights, which follow the stream on bothsides, here take a more decided outline; solitary, almost cone-shapedpeaks stand out sharply from the level background of the many-colored.limestone hills, on which no palm-tree flourishes and in which no humbledesert-plant can strike root. Rocky crevasses and gorges cut more orless deeply into the mountain range, and up to its ridge extends thedesert, destructive of all life, with sand and stones, with rocky cliffsand reef-like, desert hills.
Behind the eastern range the desert spreads to the Red Sea; behind thewestern it stretches without limit, into infinity. In the belief of theEgyptians beyond it lay the region of the dead.
Between these two ranges of hills, which serve as walls or ramparts tokeep back the desert-sand, flows the fresh and bounteous Nile, bestowingblessing and abundance; at once the father and the cradle of millions ofbeings. On each shore spreads the wide plain of black and fruitful soil,and in the depths many-shaped creatures, in coats of mail or scales,swarm and find subsistence.
The lotos floats on the mirror of the waters, and among the papyrusreeds by the shore water-fowl innumerable build their nests. Between theriver and the mountain-range lie fields, which after the seed-time areof a shining blue-green, and towards the time of harvest glow like gold.Near the brooks and water-wheels here and there stands a shady sycamore;and date-palms, carefully tended, group themselves in groves. Thefruitful plain, watered and manured every year by the inundation, liesat the foot of the sandy desert-hills behind it, and stands out like agarden flower-bed from the gravel-path.
In the fourteenth century before Christ--for to so remote a date we mustdirect the thoughts of the reader--impassable limits had been set by thehand of man, in many places in Thebes, to the inroads of the water; highdykes of stone and embankments protected the streets and squares, thetemples and the palaces, from the overflow.
Canals that could be tightly closed up led from the dykes to the landwithin, and smaller branch-cuttings to the gardens of Thebes.
On the right, the eastern bank of the Nile, rose the buildings ofthe far-famed residence of the Pharaohs. Close by the river stood theimmense and gaudy Temples of the city of Amon; behind these and at ashort distance from the Eastern hills--indeed at their very foot andpartly even on the soil of the desert--were the palaces of the King andnobles, and the shady streets in which the high narrow houses of thecitizens stood in close rows.
Life was gay and busy in the streets of the capital of the Pharaohs.
The western shore of the Nile showed a quite different scene. Here toothere was no lack of stately buildings or thronging men; but while onthe farther side of the river there was a compact mass of houses, andthe citizens went cheerfully and openly about their day's work, on thisside there were solitary splendid structures, round which little housesand huts seemed to cling as children cling to the protection of amother. And these buildings lay in detached groups.
Any one climbing the hill and looking down would form the notion thatthere lay below him a number of neighboring villages, each with itslordly manor house. Looking from the plain up to the precipice of thewestern hills, hundreds of closed portals could be seen, some solitary,others closely ranged in rows; a great number of them towards the footof the slope, yet more half-way up, and a few at a considerable height.
And even more dissimilar were the slow-moving, solemn groups in theroadways on this side, and the cheerful, confused throng yonder. There,on the eastern shore, all were in eager pursuit of labor or recreation,stirred by pleasure or by grief, active in deed and speech; here, inthe west, little was spoken, a spell seemed to check the footstep of thewanderer, a pale hand to sadden the bright glance of every eye, and tobanish the smile from every lip.
And yet many a gaily-dressed bark stopped at the shore, there was nolack of minstrel bands, grand processions passed on to the westernheights; but the Nile boats bore the dead, the songs sung here weresongs of lamentation, and the processions consisted of mournersfollowing the sarcophagus.
We are standing on the soil of the City of the Dead of Thebes.
Nevertheless even here nothing is wanting for return and revival, for tothe Egyptian his dead died not. He closed his eyes, he bore him to theNecropolis, to the house of the embalmer, or Kolchytes, and then to thegrave; but he knew that the souls of the departed lived on; that thejustified absorbed into Osiris floated over the Heavens in the vesselof the Sun; that they appeared on earth in the form they choose to takeupon them, and that they might exert influence on the current of thelives of the survivors. So he took care to give a worthy interment tohis dead, above all to have the body embalmed so as to endure long: andhad fixed times to bring fresh offerings for the dead of flesh and fowl,with drink-offerings and sweet-smelling essences, and vegetables andflowers.
Neither at the obsequies nor at the offerings might the ministers ofthe gods be absent, and the silent City of the Dead was regarded as afavored sanctuary in which to establish schools and dwellings for thelearned.
So it came to pass that in the temples and on the site Of theNecropolis, large communities of priests dwelt together, and close tothe extensive embalming houses lived numerous Kolchytes, who handed downthe secrets of their art from father to son.
Besides these there were other manufactories and shops. In the former,sarcophagi of stone and of wood, linen bands for enveloping mummies, andamulets for decorating them, were made; in the latter, merchants keptspices and essences, flowers, fruits, vegetables and pastry for sale.Calves, gazelles, goats, geese and other fowl, were fed on enclosedmeadow-plats, and the mourners betook themselves thither to select whatthey needed from among the beasts pronounced by the priests to be cleanfor sacrifice, and to have them sealed with the sacred seal. Many boughtonly part of a victim at the shambles--the poor could not even dothis. They bought only colored cakes in the shape of beasts, whichsymbolically took the place of the calves and geese which their meanswere unable to procure. In the handsomest shops sat servants of thepriests, who received forms written on rolls of papyrus which werefilled up in the writing room of the temple with those sacred verseswhich the departed spirit must know and repeat to ward off the evilgenius of the deep, to open the gate of the under world, and to be heldrighteous before Osiris and the forty-two assessors of the subterraneancourt of justice.
What took place within the temples was concealed from view, for eachwas surrounded by a high enclosing wall with lofty, carefully-closedportals, which were only opened when a chorus of priests came out tosing a pious hymn, in the morning to Horus the rising god, and in theevening to Tum the descending god.
[The course of the Sun was compared to that of the life of Man. He rose as the child Horns, grew by midday to the hero Ra, who conquered the Uraeus snake for his diadem, and by evening was an old Man, Tum. Light had been born of darkness, hence Tum was regarded as older than Horns and the other gods of light.]
As soon as the evening hymn of the priests was heard, the Necropolis wasdeserted, for the mourners and those who were visiting the graves wererequired by this time to return to their boats and to quit the City ofthe Dead. Crowds of men who had marched in the processions of thewest bank hastened in disorder to the shore, driven on by the body ofwatchmen who took it in turns to do this duty and to protect the gravesagainst robbers. The merchants closed their booths, the embalmers andworkmen ended their day's work and retired to their houses, the priestsreturned to the temples, and the inns were filled with guests, whohad come hither on long pilgrimages from a distance, and who preferredpassing the night in the vicinity of the dead whom they had come tovisit, to going across to the bustling noisy city farther shore.
The voices of the singers and of the wailing women were hushed, even thesong of the sailors on the numberless ferry boats from the western shoreto Thebes died away, its faint echo was now and then borne across on theevening air, and at last all was still.
A cloudless sky spread over the silent City of the Dead, now and thendarkened for an instant by the swiftly passing shade of a bat returningto its home in a cave or cleft of the rock after flying the wholeevening near the Nile to catch flies, to drink, and so prepare itselffor the next day's sleep. From time to time black forms with longshadows glided over the still illuminated plain--the jackals, whoat this hour frequented the shore to slake their thirst, and oftenfearlessly showed themselves in troops in the vicinity of the pens ofgeese and goats.
It was forbidden to hunt these robbers, as they were accounted sacred tothe god Anubis, the tutelary of sepulchres; and indeed they did littlemischief, for they found abundant food in the tombs.
[The jackal-headed god Anubis was the son of Osiris and Nephthys, and the jackal was sacred to him. In the earliest ages even he is prominent in the nether world. He conducts the mummifying process, preserves the corpse, guards the Necropolis, and, as Hermes Psychopompos (Hermanubis), opens the way for the souls. According to Plutarch "He is the watch of the gods as the dog is the watch of men."]
The remnants of the meat offerings from the altars were consumed bythem; to the perfect satisfaction of the devotees, who, when they foundthat by the following day the meat had disappeared, believed that it hadbeen accepted and taken away by the spirits of the underworld.
They also did the duty of trusty watchers, for they were a dangerous foefor any intruder who, under the shadow of the night, might attempt toviolate a grave.
Thus--on that summer evening of the year 1352 B.C., when we invite thereader to accompany us to the Necropolis of Thebes--after the priests'hymn had died away, all was still in the City of the Dead.
The soldiers on guard were already returning from their first round whensuddenly, on the north side of the Necropolis, a dog barked loudly; soona second took up the cry, a third, a fourth. The captain of the watchcalled to his men to halt, and, as the cry of the dogs spread and grewlouder every minute, commanded them to march towards the north.
The little troop had reached the high dyke which divided the west bankof the Nile from a branch canal, and looked from thence over the plainas far as the river and to the north of the Necropolis. Once morethe word to "halt" was given, and as the guard perceived the glareof torches in the direction where the dogs were barking loudest, theyhurried forward and came up with the author of the disturbance nearthe Pylon of the temple erected by Seti I., the deceased father of thereigning King Rameses II.
[The two pyramidal towers joined by a gateway which formed the entrance to an Egyptian temple were called the Pylon.]
The moon was up, and her pale light flooded the stately structure, whilethe walls glowed with the ruddy smoky light of the torches which flaredin the hands of black attendants.
A man of sturdy build, in sumptuous dress, was knocking at thebrass-covered temple door with the metal handle of a whip, so violentlythat the blows rang far and loud through the night. Near him stood alitter, and a chariot, to which were harnessed two fine horses. In thelitter sat a young woman, and in the carriage, next to the driver, wasthe tall figure of a lady. Several men of the upper classes and manyservants stood around the litter and the chariot. Few words wereexchanged; the whole attention of the strangely lighted groups seemedconcentrated on the temple-gate. The darkness concealed the featuresof individuals, but the mingled light of the moon and the torches wasenough to reveal to the gate-keeper, who looked down on the party from atower of the Pylon, that it was composed of persons of the highest rank;nay, perhaps of the royal family.
He called aloud to the one who knocked, and asked him what was his will.
He looked up, and in a voice so rough and imperious, that the lady inthe litter shrank in horror as its tones suddenly violated the place ofthe dead, he cried out--"How long are we to wait here for you--youdirty hound? Come down and open the door and then ask questions. Ifthe torch-light is not bright enough to show you who is waiting, I willscore our name on your shoulders with my whip, and teach you how toreceive princely visitors."
While the porter muttered an unintelligible answer and came down thesteps within to open the door, the lady in the chariot turned to herimpatient companion and said in a pleasant but yet decided voice, "Youforget, Paaker, that you are back again in Egypt, and that here you haveto deal not with the wild Schasu,--[A Semitic race of robbers in thecast of Egypt.]--but with friendly priests of whom we have to solicita favor. We have always had to lament your roughness, which seems tome very ill-suited to the unusual circumstances under which we approachthis sanctuary."
Although these words were spoken in a tone rather of regret than ofblame, they wounded the sensibilities of the person addressed; his widenostrils began to twitch ominously, he clenched his right hand over thehandle of his whip, and, while he seemed to be bowing humbly, he strucksuch a heavy blow on the bare leg of a slave who was standing nearto him, an old Ethiopian, that he shuddered as if from sudden cold,though-knowing his lord only too well--he let no cry of pain escape him.Meanwhile the gate-keeper had opened the door, and with him a tall youngpriest stepped out into the open air to ask the will of the intruders.
Paaker would have seized the opportunity of speaking, but the lady inthe chariot interposed and said:
"I am Bent-Anat, the daughter of the King, and this lady in the litteris Nefert, the wife of the noble Mena, the charioteer of my father. Wewere going in company with these gentlemen to the north-west valley ofthe Necropolis to see the new works there. You know the narrow pass inthe rocks which leads up the gorge. On the way home I myself held thereins and I had the misfortune to drive over a girl who sat by the roadwith a basket full of flowers, and to hurt her--to hurt her very badlyI am afraid. The wife of Mena with her own hands bound up the child, andthen she carried her to her father's house--he is a paraschites--[Onewho opened the bodies of the dead to prepare them for beingembalmed.]--Pinem is his name. I know not whether he is known to you."
"Thou hast been into his house, Princess?"
"Indeed, I was obliged, holy father," she replied, "I know of coursethat I have defiled myself by crossing the threshold of these people,but--"
"But," cried the wife of Mena, raising herself in her litter, "Bent-Anatcan in a day be purified by thee or by her house-priest, while she canhardly--or perhaps never--restore the child whole and sound again to theunhappy father."
"Still, the den of a paraschites is above every thing unclean," saidthe chamberlain Penbesa, master of the ceremonies to the princess,interrupting the wife of Mena, "and I did not conceal my opinion whenBent-Anat announced her intention of visiting the accursed hole inperson. I suggested," he continued, turning to the priest, "that sheshould let the girl be taken home, and send a royal present to thefather."
"And the princess?" asked the priest.
"She acted, as she always does, on her own judgment," replied the masterof the ceremonies.
"And that always hits on the right course," cried the wife of Mena.
"Would to God it were so!" said the princess in a subdued voice. Thenshe continued, addressing the priest, "Thou knowest the will of the Godsand the hearts of men, holy father, and I myself know that I give almswillingly and help the poor even when there is none to plead for thembut their poverty. But after what has occurred here, and to theseunhappy people, it is I who come as a suppliant."
"Thou?" said the chamberlain.
"I," answered the princess with decision. The priest who up to thismoment had remained a silent witness of the scene raised his right handas in blessing and spoke.
"Thou hast done well. The Hathors fashioned thy heart and the Lady ofTruth guides it. Thou hast broken in on our night-prayers to request usto send a doctor to the injured girl?"
[Hathor was Isis under a substantial form. She is the goddess of the pure, light heaven, and bears the Sun-disk between cow-horns on a cow's head or on a human head with cow's ears. She was named the Fair, and all the pure joys of life are in her gift. Later she was regarded as a Mus
e who beautifies life with enjoyment, love, song, and the dance. She appears as a good fairy by the cradle of children and decides their lot in life. She bears many names: and several, generally seven, Hathors were represented, who personified the attributes and influence of the goddess.]
"Thou hast said."
"I will ask the high-priest to send the best leech for outward woundsimmediately to the child. But where is the house of the paraschitesPinem? I do not know it."
"Northwards from the terrace of Hatasu,--[A great queen of the 18thdynasty and guardian of two Pharaohs]--close to--; but I will charge oneof my attendants to conduct the leech. Besides, I want to know early inthe morning how the child is doing.--Paaker."
The rough visitor, whom we already know, thus called upon, bowed to theearth, his arms hanging by his sides, and asked:
"What dost thou command?"
"I appoint you guide to the physician," said the princess. "It will beeasy to the king's pioneer to find the little half-hidden house again--
[The title here rendered pioneer was that of an officer whose duties were those at once of a scout and of a Quarter-Master General. In unknown and comparatively savage countries it was an onerous post. --Translator.]
besides, you share my guilt, for," she added, turning to the priest, "Iconfess that the misfortune happened because I would try with my horsesto overtake Paaker's Syrian racers, which he declared to be swifter thanthe Egyptian horses. It was a mad race."
"And Amon be praised that it ended as it did," exclaimed the master ofthe ceremonies. "Packer's chariot lies dashed in pieces in the valley,and his best horse is badly hurt."
"He will see to him when he has taken the physician to the house of theparaschites," said the princess. "Dost thou know, Penbesa--thou anxiousguardian of a thoughtless girl--that to-day for the first time I am gladthat my father is at the war in distant Satiland?"--[Asia].
"He would not have welcomed us kindly!" said the master of theceremonies, laughing.
"But the leech, the leech!" cried Bent-Anat. "Packer, it is settledthen. You will conduct him, and bring us to-morrow morning news of thewounded girl."
Paaker bowed; the princess bowed her head; the priest and hiscompanions, who meanwhile had come out of the temple and joined him,raised their hands in blessing, and the belated procession moved towardsthe Nile.
Paaker remained alone with his two slaves; the commission with whichthe princess had charged him greatly displeased him. So long as themoonlight enabled him to distinguish the litter of Mena's wife, he gazedafter it; then he endeavored to recollect the position of the hut of theparaschites. The captain of the watch still stood with the guard at thegate of the temple.
"Do you know the dwelling of Pinem the paraschites?" asked Paaker.
"What do you want with him?"
"That is no concern of yours," retorted Paaker.
"Lout!" exclaimed the captain, "left face and forwards, my men."
"Halt!" cried Paaker in a rage. "I am the king's chief pioneer."
"Then you will all the more easily find the way back by which you came.March."
The words were followed by a peal of many-voiced laughter: there-echoing insult so confounded Paaker that he dropped his whip on theground. The slave, whom a short time since he had struck with it, humblypicked it up and then followed his lord into the fore court of thetemple. Both attributed the titter, which they still could hear withoutbeing able to detect its origin, to wandering spirits. But the mockingtones had been heard too by the old gate-keeper, and the laughers werebetter known to him than to the king's pioneer; he strode with heavysteps to the door of the temple through the black shadow of the pylon,and striking blindly before him called out--
"Ah! you good-for-nothing brood of Seth."
[The Typhon of the Greeks. The enemy of Osiris, of truth, good and purity. Discord and strife in nature. Horns who fights against him for his father Osiris, can throw him and stun him, but never annihilate him.]
"You gallows-birds and brood of hell--I am coming."
The giggling ceased; a few youthful figures appeared in the moonlight,the old man pursued them panting, and, after a short chase, a troop ofyouths fled back through the temple gate.
The door-keeper had succeeded in catching one miscreant, a boy ofthirteen, and held him so tight by the ear that his pretty head seemedto have grown in a horizontal direction from his shoulders.
"I will take you before the school-master, you plague-of-locusts,you swarm of bats!" cried the old man out of breath. But the dozen ofschool-boys, who had availed themselves of the opportunity to break outof bounds, gathered coaxing round him, with words of repentance, thoughevery eye sparkled with delight at the fun they had had, and of which noone could deprive them; and when the biggest of them took the old man'schin, and promised to give him the wine which his mother was to send himnext day for the week's use, the porter let go his prisoner--who triedto rub the pain out of his burning ear--and cried out in harsher tonesthan before:
"You will pay me, will you, to let you off! Do you think I will let yourtricks pass? You little know this old man. I will complain to the Gods,not to the school-master; and as for your wine, youngster, I will offerit as a libation, that heaven may forgive you."
