The Life and Times of Akhnaton, Pharaoh of Egypt

by Arthur E. P. Brome Weigall

“Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun,” says Holy Writ in words which might have fallen from the lips of Akhnaton; “but though a man live many years and rejoice in them all, yet let him remember the days of darkness, for they shall be many.” As Akhnaton had completely revolutionised the beliefs of the Egyptians as to the nature of God, so he altered and purged their theories regarding the existence of the soul after death. According to the old beliefs, as we have seen, the soul of a man had to pass through awful places up to the judgment throne of Osiris, where he was weighed in the balances. If he was found wanting he was devoured by a ferocious monster, but if the scales turned in his favour he was accepted into the Elysian fields. So many were the spirits, bogies, and demigods which he was likely to meet before the goal was reached that he had to know by heart a tedious string of formulæ, the correct repetition of which, and the correct making of the related magic, alone ensured his safe passage.

Akhnaton flung all these formulæ into the fire. Djins, bogies, spirits, monsters, demigods, demons, and Osiris himself with all his court, were swept into the blaze and reduced to ashes. Akhnaton believed that when a man died his soul continued to exist as a kind of astral, immaterial ghost, sometimes resting in the dreamy halls of heaven, and sometimes visiting, in shadowy form, the haunts of the earthly life. By some of the inscriptions one is led to suppose that, as in the fourth article of the Christian faith, so in the teachings of Akhnaton, the body was thought to take again after death its “flesh, bones, and all things appertaining to the perfection of man’s nature.” But just as there is some doubt and some vagueness in the mind of Christian thinkers as to the meaning of this article, so in Akhnaton’s doctrine there was some uncertainty as to whether the body was entirely spiritual or in a manner material in its hazy existence in the Hills of the West. The disembodied soul still craved the pleasures of earthly life and shunned its sorrows; still felt hunger and thirst and enjoyed a draught of water or a meal of solid food; still warmed itself in the sunshine or sought coolness in the shadows.

We hear nothing of hell; for Akhnaton, in the tenderness of his heart, could not bring himself to believe that God would allow suffering in any of His creatures, however sinful. The inscriptions seem rather to indicate that there was no future life for the wicked,—that they were annihilated; though in almost every man one may suppose that there was enough good to recommend him to the mercy of a God so loving as the Aton.

The first great wish of the deceased was that he might each day leave the dim underworld in order to see the light of the sun upon earth. This had been the prayer of the Egyptians from time immemorial, and to suit the religion of the Aton its wording alone was changed. The disciple of Akhnaton asked to be allowed “to go out from the underworld in the morning to see Aton as he rises.” He prayed insistently, passionately, in varied language, that his spirit might “go forth to see the sun’s rays,” that his “two eyes might be opened to see the sun,” that there might be “no failure to see it,” that the “vision of the sun’s fair face might never be lost to him,” that he “might obtain a sight of the beauty of each recurring sunrise,” and that “the sun’s rays might spread over his body.” Sometimes it is the Aton whom the soul thus craves to see; sometimes it is Ra, the sun; but always it seems to be the actual light and warmth of the sunshine which is so passionately desired. The abstract conditions of the future life could but be interpreted in terms of human experience; and in contemplating that cold, desolate mystery of death, Akhnaton could find no better means of banishing the gloom than by praying for a continuance of the blessed light of the day. And the man who prayed that his soul might see the sunshine but asked that he might still know the joy of the presence of God, for God was the light of the world.

His second wish was that he might retain the favour of the king and queen after death, and that his soul might serve their souls in the palaces of the dead. He asks for “readiness in the presence of the King” to do his bidding; he prays that he may be admitted into the palace, “entering it in favour and leaving it in love”; that he may “attend the King every day”; and that he may “receive honour in the presence of the King.”

For his mental contentment in the underworld he earnestly desired that “his name might be remembered and established on earth,” that there might be “a happy memory of him in the King’s palace,” and “a continuance of his name in the mouths of the courtiers,” where he hoped that it “might be welcome.” “May my name thrive in the tomb-chapel,” he says. “May my name not be to seek in my mansion. May it be celebrated for ever.” So, too, at the present day the words In Memoriam are goodly words; and that a man’s memory may be kept green is a thing very generally desired.

8. THE MATERIAL NEEDS OF THE SOUL.

In order that the soul might have its link with earth, the worshipper of the Aton prayed that his mummy might remain “firm” and uncorrupted, that the “flesh might live upon the bones,” and that his limbs might remain “knit together.” The Egyptians of other days believed that the body itself would live again at the resurrection, this being the reason why they attempted so carefully to preserve it; and Akhnaton does not appear to have altered this conception of the nature of the material body. So, too, in the Christian faith it is thought that at the last day the graves will give up their dead.

The spiritual body retained the form and the individuality of the material body, and therefore, in a somewhat vague manner, it was thought that the needs of the soul would not be very dissimilar from those of the body upon earth. Christ, after His resurrection, asked for food; and the feasts of Paradise are more than allegory to many a Christian. Likewise the follower of Akhnaton believed that material food, or its spiritual equivalent, would be necessary to the soul’s welfare in the next world. “May I be called by my name,” says he, “and come at the summons, in order to feed upon the good things provided upon the temple altar.” It would seem that through fidelity to the Aton creed he might have the privilege of partaking of the offerings made at the great ceremonies in the temple; for, after these sacrifices had been offered, the food, probably, was distributed to the priests and to those attached to the tombs, who represented the interests of the dead. Thus the deceased prays that he may enjoy “a reception of that which has been offered in the temple”; “a reception of offerings of the King’s giving in every shrine”; “a drink-offering in the temple of Aton”; “food deposited on the altar every day”; and “everything that is offered in the sanctuary of Aton in the City of the Horizon of Aton.” He further asks that “wine may be poured out” for him, and that “the children of his house may spill a libation for him at the entrance of his tomb.”

While life lasted God was very apparent to those who sought Him. Wherever the sun shone, wherever the great pulse of the earth beat beneath one, wherever the river flowed or the garden bloomed, there was God to be found; for God was happiness, was beauty, was love. But when the cold mists of death had enveloped a man, when there was no longer any spring-time nor any opening of the blossoms, how should there be contentment any more? From the depths of his heart Akhnaton urged his followers to pray God that He might provide this happiness, though it could only be voiced in very human words. It was not “sweet perfume” nor “the smell of incense” that the soul required; but how else could the pleasure of light-heartedness be worded? They prayed that their “limbs might be provided with pleasure every day.” In the stagnant air of the tomb they craved for the touch of the “sweet breeze,” for “the breath of the pleasant airs of the north wind.” They hoped in shadowy form to be able to visit the beloved scenes of their lifetime. “May I raise myself up and forget languor,” prays one. “May I leave and enter my mansion,” says another. “May my soul not be shut off from that which it desires. May I walk as I will in the grove that I have made upon earth. May I drink the water at the edge of my lake every day without ceasing.” “May water be poured out from my cistern,” cries a third; “may I receive fruit from my trees.” Incessantly each man implores God to grant that he may cool his parched lips with water. “A draught of water at the banks of the river,” is his desire; “a draught of water at the swirl of the stream.” While he smells “the scent of the wind” blowing amidst the petals of “a bouquet of Aton,” and while there runs “a brook of water” by his side, he need not know the horror of death. And thus, by receiving “everything good and sweet,” he may hope for “health and prosperity” in the hills and the valleys of the West; for a “happy life, provided with pleasure and joy,” for “amusement, merriment, and delight,” and for a “daily rejoicing” throughout eternity.