CHAPTER THIRD.
MERTYTEFS.
Year by year the patient research of the archeologist unearths new discoveries, confirming or contradicting those already made, and translating, as it were, into actual fact much that had previously been considered legendary. And still, year by year, till the whole history is laid bare, the process is likely to continue. Comparatively late discoveries at Abydos have converted the mythical kings of the First Dynasty into real human beings, living and dying thousands of years ago. Their burial places have been found, and Menes, Aha-Mena, is no longer a suppositious, but a real character. Weapons, furniture, vases, drinking vessels, jewelry, etc., with the names of various kings upon them, have been dug up and may now be seen at Abydos, in the University Museum in London, in that of the University of Pennsylvania, and in other places.
Among these we come upon the first memorial of a queen. From out of the darkness of the centuries stretches forth a woman’s arm laden with bracelets, and tells of the common humanity which unites us. It is thus described: “The most important piece of gold work discovered consists of the bracelets of the Queen of Zer. The queen’s arm had been broken off long ago, when the tomb was originally plundered, and hidden in a hole in the wall. There it had been overlooked alike by the builders of the Osiris shrine, by the Coptic destroyers, and by the Arabs employed by the French mission, until it was discovered by Professor Petrie’s workmen, with the four bracelets in their original order. Each is made in a different and somewhat elaborate design, partly in gold and partly in beads of amethyst, turquoise or lazuli.” These “finds” also include the tomb of a young girl, “Bener-Ab” (Sweet of Heart), whom some fancied to be the daughter of Ment, which contained an ivory figure dressed in flowing robes. And still another “find” includes some plaited locks and a fringe of curly false hair.
The early Egyptian comes upon the historic stage very much decorated as to head, very decollete as to garments. No Indian with war paint and feathers was more elaborately gotten up. So that his peruke hung in curled or braided locks about him, or, if of royal blood, he wore his crown or double crown, all else seemed of minor importance. We can imagine him lightly attired, treading the streets of modern London and straying into the law courts, where he would encounter judges and barristers in their wigs of office. Doubtless he would bow and touch his head significantly, intimating that a common bond of taste united them.
So important were these coiffures that one of the earliest offices of which we find record is that of “Superintendent of Wigs and Head-dresses,” and among the treasures of various museums are specimens of these belongings of royalty.
Reproduced in almost every book on Egypt are those most ancient portrait statues of General Ra-hotep and his wife, the Princess Nefert. One authority assigns them to the Third Dynasty, and already the wig was in full flow. The gentleman wears a comparatively modest head covering, but the lady’s was of portentous size and thickness, falling in curls on either side of her face, with its artless, unaffected expression. Doubtless the fashionable world of that day thought the wig gave “a presence”—as an English dame said of caps—to the wearer. General Ra-hotep had married a lady of rank, of royal blood, his superior in that respect, but both were deemed important enough to have their massive statues cut, sitting in the usual ceremonial attitude, bolt upright, the knees and feet closely pressed together. “A statue of dignity culminating in a bust of beneficence.”
The Egyptian ideal was a studied dignity of posture. The Greeks, aiming at the grace and beauty of nature, sculptured their figures in the various attitudes of the human form, as also, in a degree, did the Romans. While we see on coins and in old manuscripts the Saxon and early Norman kings with knees and feet wide apart, and this also is the ceremonial Chinese attitude.
But even with a formal prescribed position of the figure the early Egyptian faces were evidently true to nature to an extent not the case in later times. There is an individuality about them which makes us feel that we see a truthful personification. In the Old Empire the realistic school is found side by side with conventional art. In the Fourth Dynasty especially we see conventional figures and portrait heads, while in the Fifth all is more natural. To this last belongs the fine limestone statue of a scribe now in the Louvre. A slender but powerful figure, square in the shoulders, with slight legs and long, flat feet, seated in an Oriental manner and writing on a parchment unrolled on his knee. The flesh tints a pale red, a false beard, bronze for the brows, eyes enamelled alabaster and crystal, and a nail for the pupil.
Another portrait statue of great celebrity is that of the “wooden man” reproduced in a plaster cast in almost every museum. It is half life-size, probably the foreman of a gang of laborers, is called “Ra Emka,” and was found at the Sakkarah pyramid. Its age has been said to be six thousand years. It had originally eyes of opaque white quartz, pupils of rock crystal, bronze eyelids, and arms made separately, with a staff of office in one hand, and was once covered with linen, plastered and painted. The Arabs called it “Sheikel Belel, or Belud,” “Village Chief.” A mutilated statue of his wife was found beside him, only the head and trunk being entire. The face was of the common Egyptian type, with rather a peevish expression, in contrast to the husband’s more urbane and amiable look. Statues of a certain Sepi and his wife, attributed to the Third Dynasty, are also in the Louvre.