A thousand miles up the Nile

by Amelia B. Edwards

“Hi, lady! Yankee-Doodle donkey; try Yankee Doodle!” cries one.

“Far-away Moses!” yells another. “Good donkey—fast donkey—best donkey in Luxor!”

“This Prince of Wales donkey!” shouts a third, hauling forward a decrepit little weak-kneed, moth-eaten looking animal, about as good to ride upon as a towel-horse. “First-rate donkey! splendid donkey! God save the queen! Hurrah!”

But neither donkeys nor scarabs are of any importance in our eyes just now, compared with the letters we hope to find awaiting us on shore. No sooner, therefore, are the boats made fast than we are all off, some to the British consulate and some to the poste restante, from both of which we return rich and happy.

Meanwhile we propose to spend only twenty-four hours in Luxor. We were to ride round Karnek this first afternoon; to cross to Medinet Habu and the Ramesseum[37] to-morrow morning; and to sail again as soon after midday as possible. We hope to get a general idea of the topography of Thebes, and to carry away a superficial impression of the architectural style of the Pharaohs. It would be but a glimpse; yet that glimpse was essential. For Thebes represents the great central period of Egyptian art. The earlier styles lead up to that point; the later depart from it; and neither the earlier nor the later are intelligible without it. At the same time, however, travelers bound for the second cataract do well to put off everything like a detailed study of Thebes till the time of coming back. For the present, a rapid survey of the three principal group of ruins is enough. It supplies the necessary link. It helps one to a right understanding of Edfu, of Philæ, of Abu Simbel. In a word, it enables one to put things in their right places; and this, after all, is a mental process which every traveler must perform for himself.

Thebes, I need scarcely say, was built, like London, on both sides of the river. Its original extent must have been very great; but its public buildings, its quays, its thousands of private dwellings, are gone and have left few traces. The secular city, which was built of crude brick, is represented by a few insignificant mounds; while of the sacred edifice, five large groups of limestone ruins—three on the western bank and two on the eastern, together with the remains of several small temples and a vast multitude of tombs—are all that remain in permanent evidence of its ancient splendor. Luxor is a modern Arab village, occupying the site of one of the oldest of these five ruins. It stands on the eastern bank, close against the river, about two miles south of Karnak and nearly opposite the famous sitting colossi of the western plain. On the opposite bank lie Gournah, the Ramesseum, and Medinet Habu. A glance at the map will do more than pages of explanation to show the relative position of these ruins. The Temple of Gournah, it will be seen, is almost vis-à-vis of Karnak. The Ramesseum faces about half-way between Karnak and Luxor. Medinet Habu is placed farther to the south than any building on the eastern side of the river. Behind these three western groups, reaching far and wide along the edge of the Libyan range, lies the great Theban Necropolis; while farther back still, in the radiating valleys on the other side of the mountains, are found the tombs of the kings. The distance between Karnak and Luxor is a little less than two miles; while from Medinet Habu to the Temple of Gournah may be roughly guessed at something under four. We have here, therefore, some indication of the extent, though not of the limits, of the ancient city.

Luxor is a large village inhabited by a mixed population of Copts and Arabs and doing a smart trade in antiquities. The temple has here formed the nucleus of the village, the older part of which has grown up in and about the ruins. The grand entrance faces north, looking down toward Karnak. The twin towers of the great propylon, dilapidated as they are, stripped of their cornices, incumbered with débris, are magnificent still. In front of them, one on each side of the central gateway sit two helmeted colossi, battered and featureless and buried to the chin, like two of the proud in the doleful fifth circle. A few yards in front of these again stands a solitary obelisk, also half-buried. The colossi are of black granite; the obelisk is of red, highly polished and covered on all four sides with superb hieroglyphs in three vertical columns. These hieroglyphs are engraved with the precision of the finest gem. They are cut to a depth of about two inches in the outer columns and five inches in the central column of the inscription. The true height of this wonderful monolith is over seventy feet, between thirty and forty of which are hidden under the accumulated soil of many centuries. Its companion obelisk, already scaling away by imperceptible degrees under the skyey influences of an alien climate, looks down with melancholy indifference upon the petty revolutions and counter-revolutions of the Place de la Concorde. On a line with the two black colossi, but some fifty feet or so farther to the west, rises a third and somewhat smaller head of chert or limestone, the fellow to which is doubtless hidden among the huts that encroach half-way across the face of the eastern tower. The whole outer surface of these towers is covered with elaborate sculptures of gods and men, horses and chariots, the pageantry of triumph and the carnage of war. The king in his chariot draws his terrible bow, or slays his enemies on foot, or sits enthroned, receiving the homage of his court. Whole regiments armed with lance and shield march across the scene. The foe flies in disorder. The king, attended by his fan-bearers, returns in state, and the priests burn incense before him.

This king is Rameses II, called Sesostris and Osymandias by ancient writers, and best known to history as Rameses the Great. His actual names and titles as they stand upon the monuments are Ra-user-ma Sotp-en-Ra Ra-messu Mer-Amen; that is to say: “Ra strong in truth, approved of Ra, son of Ra, beloved of Amen.”

The battle scenes here represented relate to that memorable campaign against the Kheta, which forms the subject of the famous “Third Sallier Papyrus,”[38] and is commemorated upon the walls of almost every temple built by this monarch. Separated from his army and surrounded by the enemy, the king, attended only by his chariot-driver, is said to have six times charged the foe—to have hewn them down with his sword of might—to have trampled them like straw beneath his horses’ feet—to have dispersed them, single-handed, like a god. Two thousand five hundred chariots were there and he overthrew them; one hundred thousand warriors and he scattered them. Those that he slew not with his hand he chased unto the water’s edge, causing them to leap to destruction as leaps the crocodile. Such was the immortal feat of Rameses, and such the chronicle written by the royal scribe, Pentaur.

Setting aside the strain of Homeric exaggeration, which runs through this narrative, there can be no doubt that it records some brilliant deed of arms actually performed by the king, within sight, though not within reach, of his army; and the hieroglyphic texts interspersed among these tableaux state that the events depicted took place on the fifth day of the month Epiphi, in the fifth year of his reign. By this we must understand the fifth year of his sole reign, which would be five years after the death of his father, Seti I, with whom he had from an early age been associated on the throne. He was a man in the prime of life at the time of this famous engagement, which was fought under the walls of Kadesh on the Orontes; and the bas-relief sculptures show him to have been accompanied by several of his sons, who, though evidently very young, are represented in their war-chariots, fully armed and taking part in the battle.[39]