The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

FORGED EGYPTIAN
ANTIQUITIES

AGENTS

PLATE I.

A BLUE CANOPIC JAR, WITH ANUBIS HEAD.
This is an imitation of porcelain and shows very well the unevenness of the modern glaze. Such jars were used to contain the internal organs of the dead and were placed in the tomb beside the mummy.

FORGED

EGYPTIAN

ANTIQUITIES

BY

T. G. WAKELING

AUTHOR OF “THE WHITE KNIGHTS”

ETC.

ADAM & CHARLES BLACK

4 SOHO SQUARE LONDON

1912

BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD

Tavistock Street Covent Garden

London

PREFATORY NOTE

I wish to express my indebtedness to Mr. and Mrs. Firth, of the Nubian Archæological Survey, and to Dr. G. A. Reisner, of the Harvard University Expedition, for their kindness in assisting me.

Plates [I], [II], [XII] and [XVI] were prepared from water-colour drawings made by Miss Enid Stoddard, but all of the others have been reproduced direct from the objects themselves.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR

LIST OF FIGURES
PRINTED IN THE TEXT

FORGED EGYPTIAN

ANTIQUITIES

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY

There are a great many people in the world who are interested in Egypt, in its antiquities, and in the unfolding of its pages of ancient history; a number collect specimens of old Egyptian art, such as scarabs, pottery, small statues, &c., and others, when in Egypt, buy them as presents for friends at home.

It is for this numerous class, which is year by year defrauded of large sums of money by the plausible sellers of forged antiquities, that this book has been written, for most of them, sooner or later, find out to their dismay that that which they had thought was a genuine relic of ancient days, and prized accordingly, is nothing more nor less than a clever fraud, and, from a collector’s point of view, worthless. The Egyptologist, museum authority, and expert collector may be safely left to take care of themselves; a perusal of the following pages might even prove interesting to them, although it is exceedingly unlikely that the book contains anything new so far as they are concerned.

The selling of spurious Egyptian antiquities is not confined to Egypt alone. London, New York, Paris, and even Algiers, are also the hunting-ground of the makers of imitations, who often make large sums of money by imposing upon those who do not possess the knowledge requisite to detect the fraud.

It is interesting to analyse the frame of mind of the people who have been cheated. As a rule, they are angry, but they are extremely careful to keep their feelings to themselves. If you inquire, they pooh-pooh the transaction as one of little moment, and pass it over, although, as I shall presently show, many pounds may have been lost. But if the conversation is not changed, and you wait patiently, you will presently find that under the carefully repressed annoyance runs a vein of genuine regret that the nice-spoken, honest-looking and plausible Hassan or Mohammed had cheated them.

The subsequent history of the fraudulent antiquity is often interesting. As a rule, it is packed up and taken home, to be presented in due course to some friend with the cautious remark that “perhaps it is genuine.” Then some day an unfortunate Egyptologist is brought face to face with it, and he has to make his escape as best he may, with a certain loss of reputation. I have heard a hostess remark sarcastically that she did not know what post was held by her victim in the Antiquities Department in Egypt, but it certainly did not require a clever man to see that hers was an important antiquity.

There is no more trying moment in an Egyptologist’s life than when, after a good dinner, while he is feeling at peace with all the world, a charming hostess brings out an antiquity for him to pass judgment upon. I have seen men literally squirm, and many are the subterfuges employed by them to avoid giving an opinion. Woe betide the unhappy expert if a mischievous friend happens to be there who will lead their hostess on to ask questions, and who will assure her, despite mute appeals, that her victim is an expert in the particular branch to which her statue or jar, as it may be, belongs. And when the Egyptologist is cornered, and huffily declares to be a forgery the object upon which he is asked to pass judgment, the lady is, as a rule, angry or hurt; and then it is that the mischievous friend saves the situation by murmuring, “How shocking that these Egyptologists should be so jealous!” The straw is caught, the hostess smiles again, and peace is restored, while the unfortunate man from Egypt, vowing vengeance, makes his escape.

If a buyer of some specimen wishes an expert opinion upon his purchase, he usually lays a deep plan. Perhaps he knows a man connected with the museum, whose opinion is worth having; or, if not, he gets some one to introduce him. Then, one day, in a casual off-hand kind of way, he produces his specimen, and explains that he did not buy it as a “real thing, you know,” but it seemed very clever, and he did not pay much for it. Inquiries as to how much has been paid are met by “regrets that he has forgotten—it was so unimportant.” Most probably it was pounds, but the buyer will seldom or never tell you.

The expert groans, but cannot escape. The clever ones temporise, and tell tales of the marvellous cleverness of the forgers, and explain that it is almost impossible to distinguish some forgeries from genuine antiquities. Then come other stories of how such and such a one was taken in, and names are mentioned which stand high in the list of savants. It is assumed by the expert that his friend will never mention the matter. Then he expresses the opinion that it would be very difficult to be certain in the case of the specimen under consideration, that he himself would not like to say definitely, “and you know, my dear fellow, it has become almost impossible to tell, for these things are made by the descendants of the men who made the originals.” So the friendship is preserved, and the subject drifts away into the safe region of “perhaps and if.”

It does not seem to occur to the general public that so great has been the demand for antiquities on the part of foreign museums, private collectors, and learned societies all over the world that the supply may threaten to give out; that the districts in which the relics lie are carefully watched; and that the Cairo museum is a jealous guardian. So important are the links between the past and the present times that stringent laws have been passed against unauthorised persons taking genuine and important relics out of the country. Moreover, the enormous numbers of antiquities sold yearly would require extensive expeditions to supply the demand, and few of the finds are obtained surreptitiously.

In fact, since the above was written, an even more stringent law has been passed by the Egyptian Government, which took effect on July 1, 1912. Under this law all finds of examples of the Arts, Sciences, Literature, Religions, Customs, Industries, &c., will belong to the State. The definition of the term Antiquities is most comprehensive, and covers every possible find.

All dealers will now require to have a licence, the export of antiquities is quite prohibited unless by special permit from the department responsible, and any attempt to evade this law will be followed by the confiscation of the objects.

Any one discovering antiquities must notify the Antiquities Department at once; should the articles found be of a movable nature the finder will receive half the objects discovered or their value in money.

A licence from the Ministry of Public Works, issued with the consent of the Director of the Antiquities Department, must be obtained before any excavation may be undertaken.

This new law is sure to give a great impetus to the manufacture of forged Egyptian antiquities.

There is indeed a great fascination in possessing jewels, beads, necklaces, vases, and statues belonging to a people who lived thousands of years ago, but it is obvious that there must be a limit to the quantity available. As the supply becomes less, so the prices rise; for the demand does not fall off, and to-day £30 or £40 will be paid for a specimen which, a few years ago, would hardly have brought in as many shillings. The intrinsic value of these antiquities is very little. They are prized for their association with the past and as evidences of the advanced state of culture existing in those far-off days.

The love of money has always been a marked characteristic of the Egyptian, and here the ingenuity of the descendant of the old craftsman asserts itself. There is no doubt that he has, from time to time, been assisted by various Europeans, but he is producing replicas of antiquities, scarabs, figures, models, so cleverly cut and made that it puzzles many of the best experts to say whether they are false or real. Some of these imitations are sold for very high prices. If the discovery of a fraud is made in time, part of the money will sometimes be refunded.

The Egyptian forger would not consider that he had done anything particularly dishonest in deceiving a man in that kind of way. His only regret would be that the fraud had been discovered, and he would muse upon the unfairness of Fate, for here he had been with a fortune within his grasp, only to lose it.

Such cases are seldom brought before the courts, for there seems to be a tacit understanding between the buyer and seller whereby each accepts his own risk.

Think for a moment what such a transaction means to the Egyptian. Supposing he got £3000 for certain objects and made £2500 clear profit: that would mean at least twenty feddans of land, probably more. These should bring him, if he lets them out for hire, over £200 a year; or, if he farmed them himself, £600 or £700 a year. It is a perfect craze with the Egyptians to get rich, and perhaps our forger has been earning a precarious living for years, receiving in pay the equivalent of a shilling or two a day. He has always kept in mind the possibility of making a coup such as I have described. He has worked hard and cultivated a plausible manner and learned English with this single object in view. If he is successful, and the fraud is not discovered until too late, he will occupy a high position in his village and will live happily, but always with the hope of making a further haul.

To such a pitch has the art of manufacturing imitations been carried that I propose to give a few of the more common examples, and here I may say that the morality of dealing in antiquities resembles, to a great extent, that involved in the buying and selling of horses. If you go to a respectable and responsible dealer, you pay more, but you are sure either to get a genuine article or to have your money returned if things go wrong. But if you go to a horse coper, you buy at your own risk.

CHAPTER II
GOLD ORNAMENTS

The making of copies of ancient gold ornaments has been going on for some years, and is one of the most lucrative branches of the business. The most extraordinary prices are sometimes paid for these replicas in the full belief that they are genuine.

A gentleman who is deeply interested in the study of Egyptology was once approached by a native, who, after some conversation, hinted that he had some gold antiquities to sell. The interpreter, who was evidently “in the swim,” pretended to have the utmost difficulty in persuading the native that he might speak freely, assuring him that he was quite safe—the gentleman would not inform against him—and that he could with perfect confidence bring his spoils to be looked at. This at last he agreed to do.

Excitement grew, and at the hour the man appeared—a stolid, clownish, apparently ignorant fellah; he seemed the last one to be suspected of a clever fraud.

The articles were various figures wrought in gold, and after a protracted interview, a bargain was struck. £3000 was paid for them, and then they were brought in triumph to Cairo, where I saw them. They were submitted to expert after expert, and then the truth came out. They were forgeries. Part of the money paid was returned, but the remainder was lost.

Another case occurred recently. A man from the Delta went to a dealer in Cairo and said that one of the farmers in his district had found some gold things in a tomb while taking soil from the ground, and now he wanted to find a rich man to buy them, one who would keep his secret so that the Government should not punish him and take them from him. When the dealer agreed to go and see them, the man advised him to take £200 or £300 with him. The dealer cautiously said, “No, I shall take only £20.” It was arranged that he should go to his informant’s village, and that the finder of the jewels should be brought to him there.

Next day the dealer went to the village, and found that his informant was out, collecting rents for his land, and some time elapsed before he came back, carrying in his hands an inkpot and some papers to show how busy he had been. The dealer asked where the farmer was who had found the antiquities. The man replied, “I have sent for him, but he has not yet come.”

“Where does he live?” asked the dealer.

The man pointed to a collection of huts in the distance behind a ruin.

“Come, let us take donkeys and ride there,” said the dealer, “I cannot stay here all day.”

Donkeys were procured and they set off. On arrival, they found the farmer working his land. When he came in answer to their call he refused to admit that he had ever seen any gold antiquities, and vowed that he had none. When pressed, he swore by all the Prophets and their beards that he was innocent of finding anything; but, in an aside, he muttered that he thought the dealer was a member of the secret police, who had come to take all he had got.

Then the dealer swore to him by all the most sacred oaths that he was not a member of the police force, so the old man took courage, and produced one piece—a leaf of gold with two oxen engaged in a fight stamped upon it. The dealer asked if this was all. The farmer replied, “Well, you buy this, and when I know how you value it I will go and get you another.”

Then the dealer, doubting if the specimen was really genuine, asked the farmer if he had found it, or whether any one had given it to him to sell. The man swore by the divorce—the talak bi talata—that he had found the things himself, and had dug them up out of the ground.

The dealer thereupon bought some stamped leaves of gold to the value of £30, and the farmer told him to come again in two days and perhaps he would show him some more. Then the man who had lured the dealer there said, “Oh, I have seen in this man’s house a gold sword and a gold belt, and lots of coins, and if you can get five thousand pounds you can buy them from him.”

When the dealer got back to Cairo with his purchases, he showed them to an authority on the subject, who offered to buy them for £250, but the dealer refused, saying that he wished to wait until he could buy the rest of the find. Then the prospective purchaser said that, as he had not time to wait, he would ask a friend to come and buy for him.

The friend came and in the end bought the gold leaves for £250, and asked the dealer to go and get the rest of the things. Thinking that he was going to make a good season’s work, the dealer took £300 with him and went back to the place. This was, in itself, a risky proceeding, as he might have been murdered and the money stolen; needless to say, he did not sleep that night.

The intermediary entered into an agreement with the dealer that he would take no money for introducing him to the finder, but would accept a commission on the profits made when the articles were sold.

“I will send for the man to come,” he declared, “because people will see us going to his house, and they will become suspicious and inform the authorities, who will put the man in prison or punish him in some way. Stay here, my friend. It is better so. I will send for the farmer to come.”

“But when will he come?” asked the dealer.

“In the night, when it is dark,” replied the intermediary.

The dealer waited and waited, and between his fear of being killed and robbed, and his anxiety to get more things, he had no sleep. Each time the door opened—and it opened many times—he sat up and asked if the man had come.

The reply was always, “No, not yet.”

In the early morning the dealer became suspicious and said, “Well, I must go home now, I cannot wait any longer.”

The intermediary said, “Yes, you go home, and if the man brings anything I will come over to your shop and bring them with me.”

After two days he came alone, bringing a gold ring with a Greek head upon it, and asked the dealer for £10 in order to buy some more things from the farmer, who had grown suspicious and would not disclose what else he had. The dealer gave the money, and after two days the intermediary returned, this time with two gold coins, some more rings and stamped gold foil, and saying positively that they were from the same tomb.

So the dealer bought the coins, rings, and some of the other things for £80. He took them to an expert authority, who said, “This is excellent, for now we shall know from the date on the coins the age of the relics.”

A stamp in wax was taken, and sent at once to the museum.

“May I show this coin to a friend?” asked the expert. The dealer gladly gave permission, and it was taken to a collector of coins, who told them that that particular coin was never found in Egypt, and, most probably, it was not genuine.

Then the dealer said, “Well, if this coin is not real, then all the things which I have bought are frauds; let us examine all of them.”

This was done, and after three hours’ hard work with magnifying glasses, the expert came to the conclusion that the articles were not really genuine antiquities, but very clever frauds. Then the dealer returned the £250 to his patron who had bought the gold leaves. After this he took the things straight back to the intermediary, who now declined all responsibility, saying, “You bought from the farmer, who is an ignorant man and knows nothing.”

The assistance of the police was invoked, and the head of the village paid £20 to the dealer, intending to reimburse himself from the proceeds of the farmer’s crops.

In the meantime, the dealer was not idle. He found out that a Jewish goldsmith in Cairo had prepared some plain gold leaves and had sent them over to Athens to be stamped. He had then sold them to the intermediary, and this man had passed them on to the fellah, and between them they had made this plan. They buried the things in the ground, and after a time the fellah dug them up, thus being able to swear by the “triple divorce” that he had taken them out of the ground. Then the intermediary had looked about him for a promising victim, and selected the dealer, who lost over the transaction some £60. Some time later, the forgeries were again sold to a well-known man for £30, and were again detected. This time the money in full was returned, and the forgeries were melted down.

One night, thirteen years ago, while I was strolling about in the moonlight after dinner, an Arab came up, and after some conversation slipped a small parcel into my hand, made a sign of silence, and went away. I knew the man, so, after a few minutes, I made an excuse and went indoors to look at the parcel, which was rather heavy and of a peculiar shape. After undoing the knotted ends of a piece of native cloth, there came into view a magnificent pair of gold bracelets made in the form of snakes, with three rings of heavy gold. The make was antique and the design splendid. I was young at the game then, and the beauty of the bracelets made them attractive. I hesitated for a time, and the more I hesitated the less I liked the idea of buying them. I could not be sure that they were real, and an expert opinion could not, under the circumstances, be got, to say nothing of the questionable morality of buying them and thereby encouraging riflers of tombs and stealers of important links between the present and ancient days. For who can say what valuable pieces of evidence may not, in this way, be lost?

I wrapped them up again in their dirty cloth and went out into the moonlight once more. Soon the Arab sidled up to me, and I put the parcel back into his hand.

“You will buy them?” he queried.

“What is your price?” I asked.

“Thirty pounds,” he replied. “They are worth a hundred and fifty.”

I told him it was a lot of money. He shrugged his shoulders, and held up his hands as if to show me that he was positively giving them to me. Then I definitely declined to buy them.

And now, after thirteen years have passed, I hear that they were afterwards sold for the price of the gold plus a quarter for the antique design. Old Egyptian gold is 24 carat, and an English sovereign is 18 carat, so that the price came out at about the price of ordinary gold. And one of those implicated in the transaction has since admitted to me that the bracelets were forgeries.

Last year I was shown by a collector a small gold scarab. It was quite hollow and made of very thin gold, and it had the appearance of having been pressed out in a mould. I was asked to give an opinion on it, but was able to escape without committing myself. My opinion was that the scarab was not genuine, but as it was the first example of its kind that I had seen, I did not care to express too definite an opinion upon the subject. This year I have seen other gold ornaments bought at the same place, and I have no hesitation in saying that the scarab was an exceedingly well-made copy of a genuine one.

PLATE II.

NECKLACES AND A BRACELET.
1. A necklace composed of genuine old carnelian beads, with spurious gold bottles.
2. Part of a necklace made of silver-gilt filigree work, with coloured glass scarabs—bought in Algiers.
3. A bracelet made up of imitation scarabs set in gold of a low carat.
4. A string of genuine old carnelian and spurious gold beads.

In Plate II are shown some interesting forged gold antiques. The necklace (No. 2) was bought by a lady in Algiers. It was represented to have been brought from Egypt, and was said to be composed of Egyptian scarabs made of precious stones and mounted in gold filigree work. The price paid for it was £16. Examination showed that the scarabs were composed of coloured glass, very badly cut, and the setting was merely silver gilt. The real value was under ten shillings.

No. 1 shows a combination necklace composed of genuine old carnelian beads and spurious gold bottles. This was a fashionable form of necklace in the ancient days, and the present specimen is extremely well calculated to take in the unwary. The price asked for it was £18. The man had two others of a somewhat different design with him. The prices were £12 and £6 respectively. In each case the beads were old, and the gold had been covered with a kind of lacquer which gave it the appearance of age. So clever were the gold imitations that at first I really thought that they were real, and proceeded to bargain for them. We did not agree upon a price for the two largest necklaces, but I bought the smaller one (No. 4) for twelve shillings.

No. 3 is a bracelet made up of imitation scarabs set in real gold of a low carat.

The seller also showed me a heavy gold ring, fashioned like the ring of Akhnaton, but lacking an inscription on the face of it. For this he asked £8, but I remembered a tale told me by an excavator to the effect that in December of 1900 a man of Qus took a gold ring to his camp at Derr-el-Ballas. On the face was the name of an eighteenth-dynasty queen. Careful examination showed that the ring was a forgery. Four months later the excavator saw the same ring in the shop of a dealer in Luxor, who had paid £5 for it, and this made me cautious. The following day the man returned with a friend, and again we proceeded to bargain for the two large necklaces. Hamid Ibrahim, to whom I am much indebted for his assistance, and in whose shop the transaction was taking place, was suspicious and uneasy. Time after time he examined the necklaces with a powerful magnifying glass. The men watched him calmly, never showing by the quiver of an eyelid that they minded his examining them as much as he liked. We had narrowed the transaction down until now there was little separating us in price, when again Ibrahim took up the bottle necklace, and began looking at it with his glass. Suddenly he made a quick movement which I understood at once, and then he laid the necklace down. Silently he handed me the glass, and pointed out a bottle. I took up the necklace, and there on the bottle he had indicated, was a very fine line where the gold had been folded over. I handed the necklace back to Ibrahim, who took a needle and ran it along underneath the edge of the gold, which he thus turned back. Then we saw that it was no thicker than a sheet of thin paper, while the bottles had been cast in plaster of Paris, and the gold foil very cleverly folded over them. I did not buy the necklaces, but I obtained the loan of one of them (No. 2, [Plate II]).

As I have said, the men made no objection to our examination of the bottles. They looked us frankly in the face; they would have cheated us if they could, but they had failed. They did not consider that they were in any way to blame for their attempt. They told us frankly, after we had found them out, that the gold forgeries were all made by one man, who was such a wonderful artist that he had been offered a high rate of pay to go to Europe to work there, but that he had refused. It is certain that more will be heard of this man’s work, for, said my informant, “There is no one in the world so clever as he is in making gold imitations.”

I have purposely refrained from describing the gold forgeries made and sold by Europeans in Egypt, preferring to keep entirely to the Egyptians and their work.

CHAPTER III
LAPIS LAZULI FIGURES AND
IRIDESCENT GLASS

Genuine lapis lazuli figures are extremely rare, and generally small, the most valuable ones in the museums being only a few inches high. It was thought at first that it would be impossible to make imitations which would pass for the real stone, but on the demand arising it has been met.

I was riding from Deir-el-Bahari down to the river one day when a youth rose up from the side of the road, and shuffled forward to speak to me.

“You buy antīcas?” he said in a whisper, casting a sidelong glance of apprehension at a mounted policeman who was following at about seventy yards distance.

I told him to show me what he had, whereupon he produced a blue bowl of earthenware with a pattern of the lotus flower on it. Porcelain, he called it, “and very fine work, sir. I dig in the tombs, sir.”

Now if there was one thing that this youthful Ananias did not do, it was to dig in the tombs. It is one of the worst offences in Egypt to dig and take away antiquities without permission. This constitutes a crime not to be expiated without years of imprisonment in the Tourah stone quarries.

The price of the blue bowl was £3. This at once betrayed it, for no one knows better than these sellers of antiquities the value of the genuine article. £20 or more would not have bought it, had he really dug it up out of a tomb. When I declined to buy the bowl, he produced various fragments of alabaster vessels which were genuine enough, and then some odd Ushebti figures, genuine but very poor in make and colour, and not worth the trouble of taking home. When these were declined, he still ran alongside of my donkey for perhaps half a mile, from time to time casting hunted looks at the mounted policeman not very far away. Presently he cast an agonised look at me and made a sound indicative of silence; then he produced a statue bound up in old rags, thrust it on my saddle in front of me, and with exceedingly well-acted fright, implored me not to let the policeman see it. Our conversation was carried on in Arabic, so that he knew well that I lived in the country, and yet he looked me straight in the face, and with his hand on his heart, lied.

I unrolled the rags, and there was a wonderful statue of Horus, about six inches high, beautifully moulded, in what was apparently lapis lazuli, with most natural cracks and fissures running through the substance. It was the first time I had met with this particular imitation, and for a moment I was dumfounded. I thrust the statue under my coat, and turned to look at our friend, the policeman. He was still at the same distance away, watching us, but the smile had broadened on his face, and this gave the whole thing away. He had evidently witnessed the same play a dozen times before, and perhaps a dozen people had thrust that statue under their coats, and turned to look at him; so that he knew at once the stage which the negotiations had reached. Sometimes the young man would bring off the coup, when, no doubt, they would celebrate the occasion in a manner which would recompense the policeman for his non-interference.

“How much?” I asked.

“Thirty pounds,” was his reply.

“But it is very dear,” I objected, “and it does not seem to be a genuine antiquity.”

“By the Prophet,” swore the boy, “I dug it up myself in the tombs. Please, gentleman, do not let the policeman see.”

His intense anxiety was well acted. I looked at the statue again. It was the work of an artist, made in glass, with all the characteristics of the precious stone, and then sand-blasted to give it the appearance of age. Its value, had it been genuine, would have been many hundreds of pounds. Its actual value was a few shillings. Then we proceeded to bargain. I could have bought the figure for £3, but lower than that he would not come down; so I wrapped the statue up, and gave it back to him. Again he tried to sell me the blue bowl, offering this time to take ten shillings for it. When I said that I had no change, he produced a bag with a considerable quantity of gold and silver in it, and extracted an English half-sovereign. His perseverance was so marked that in the end I bought a few imitations, so that he might not have had his long run for nothing.

On returning to Luxor, I found in a shop a large head of Horus in blue, apparently lapis lazuli. It was in a glass case, and was evidently considered to be very valuable. I asked to see it, and inquired from the dealer what it was. He, decent old fellow, smiled, and, turning his hands upwards, mentioned the name of a well-known Egyptologist, connected with the museum, and said, “He says perhaps it is lapis lazuli.” As a matter of fact, it was glass imitation.

At the last Agricultural Show in Cairo, there were several stalls for the sale of antiquities. At one of these I was shown Hathor, the sacred cow, and the figure of a man. The price asked was £40 for the cow, and £30 for the figure of a man. They were both wrapped up in pieces of old rag, and only brought out after I had seen most of the antiquities on the stall. After informing the man that I knew they were only glass imitations, I tried to buy the figures, but it was impossible to get them for a reasonable sum. The lowest amount he would accept for the cow was £8, and £4 for the man.

PLATE III.

WOODEN USHEBTI FIGURES.
Made at Gurna.

Later on, an itinerant vendor offered to sell me the figure shown in [Plate X.], No. 4. When we had agreed that it was imitation, and made of glass, I asked him to name a price. The lowest that he would take was £3. I was somewhat puzzled by the consistent high prices asked even for a fraud which had been detected, and after a great deal of argument, the man indignantly informed me that some men from America come each year to Cairo, at the end of the season, and purchase these blue glass figures for sums ranging between £3 and £7. They take them back to America, where they are sold for very high prices—my informant mentioned £50 and £100 each. This would quite explain why they refused to sell them to me at their intrinsic value.

There is a very considerable market for old iridescent glass. A small bottle will fetch from £1 to £3, and good specimens from £2 to £8. There is a moderate quantity of these bottles found in a district called Rakah. The bottles are extremely fragile, but good specimens are very beautiful objects and find quick buyers. There is a demand, and the ingenuity of the Egyptian is keenly exercised to meet it. Imitations are being made by pouring a chemical on the inside and the outside of specially made thin bottles and glasses. This forms a film which gives an appearance of iridescence; but in many cases the film can be detached with the point of a knife, and thus the fraud is made palpable.

One day a youth brought an iridescent bottle for me to buy, and as I happened to be out he sat down in the sun and waited. Upon my return he came up and began to explain that he had brought a beautiful bottle to sell to me, but had sat upon it and smashed it. Now he would sell it to me very cheap. Bottles made of iridescent glass are very thin, and the fragments were quite useless, but day after day the boy haunted the place, wanting to sell me the broken bottle “very cheap.” I much regretted the unfortunate accident, for the bottle, though small, had been of perfect shape and beautiful colour. At last I offered to buy another should he have one for sale, but he walked sullenly away and never came back.

CHAPTER IV
FIGURES IN WOOD

It was the custom in the ancient days to place small statuettes made of wood, stone, porcelain or composition in the tombs. These were supposed to do the work of the dead in the Underworld, and are called ushebti, funerary figures, or answerers, because they were expected to answer the call made on the name of the dead, and to stand in their place.

Model of a funerary chamber; view of interior

Nos. 1, 2 and 5 of [Plate III] are very cleverly carved, then dipped in liquid plaster of Paris, allowed to dry, and coloured to represent the ancient models. All these figures are made by a man who lives at Gurna. I expressed to him the desire to have a figure in a boat. Three days after he returned, bringing with him the object in the centre (No. 3), which he called a dahabeyah, that he had made in the interval.

This man could never understand how it was that I was able to detect his forgeries, and time after time he asked me to tell him. He would look up with a sort of admiration and say, “Nothing is hid from his Excellency. He knows everything, even the mind of his servant.” Later on, when I told him that the smell of the wood of which the figures were made was new, and not old, he looked me straight in the face without changing countenance and exclaimed, “Allah kerim! [God is merciful.] I said well that nothing was hid from his Excellency. If he does not see that which is false with his eyes, he smells it with his nose.” Then he clasped his hands together, as if there was nothing more to be said or done, and shortly after took his leave.

Model of funerary chamber; complete object.

About a week later, my servant told me that “the man belonging to the antiquities” was waiting to see me. It was my friend again, and he said, “This time I have an antiquity of the highest value.” We proceeded to a room to examine it, and there he produced a bundle of paper which he began to unroll; and as he neared the end, a most appalling stink arose, a curious, penetrating, abominable odour. I drew back while he finished the unwrapping, and presently he held up the wooden figure of Anubis ([Plate III], No. 4). It was extremely light, and evidently made of mummy-case wood, which is occasionally used for these wooden figures. But the smell was so awful that I quickly pushed it as far as possible away from me. All the time the man watched my face without the flicker of a smile on his own.

“It is indeed an antīca,” he assured me.

“I have my doubts on that point,” I replied.

“Then will not the gentleman apply his test and smell it?” asked my friend, with the ghost of a smile on his face.

No, the gentleman would not smell it. The odour pervaded the whole room as it was, and I verily believe the old scoundrel had boiled down a piece of mummy and painted the statue with the liquid, either to hide the smell of the new wood, or to play off a joke upon me. Finally I bought the thing for three shillings, although he had asked £14 for it; but I had to cover it all over with varnish to seal up the smell before I could keep it in my room. For that reason it appears rather more shiny than the other figures.

Horus Hawk

[Plate III], No. 6 represents a Nubian of an early dynasty. There is a cartouche and an inscription on the base. It stood in the window of a shop in Luxor in company with several other wooden figures. The dealer told me a long story about his brother having died, and how he had taken over the antiquities belonging to him, and was selling them at a very cheap rate. The man assured me that the statue was a genuine antiquity, but I had my doubts about it. Our bargaining was not a long process, and I bought it for a small sum. As I went out of the shop, the man said “I hope you will have good luck with the antīca,” which at once told me what I had already suspected, that it was indeed a fraud. And yet it is cleverly made. The nose has been rubbed down to flatten it after the manner of the ancient statues. The back is beautifully moulded, and the splitting of the wood very cleverly done, but the sculptor had not taken the pains with his work that the ancient Egyptians were accustomed to do. The ears are badly shaped and the hair should have stood up a little further from the forehead. The legs are too short, the ancient Egyptian Statues being remarkable for small heads, broad shoulders, fineness about the hips, and long powerful limbs. The feet are badly moulded, and not up to the standard of ancient work. The cartouche on the base is poorly cut, and in the inscription on the side one of the letters is placed upside down.

The removal of a small piece of wood with a knife showed it to be deeply stained, but underneath the staining the wood was white. The most important test, however, for wooden reproductions is the smell of the wood. The hawk here represented is about one foot in height, carved out of wood and painted. The wings are a dull green and the breast and back a light brown, with a decoration upon the back. As a rule these figures have a crown above the head, but in this specimen it had been broken off. These figures are frequently to be met with in the Mousky.

PLATE IV

FUNERARY FIGURES IN WOOD AND PLASTER.

Plate IV contains some other funerary figures. No. 1 is a composition figure, part of which is old and part new. The white foot of the statue is new, while the remainder is old.

Bes
Made of soft white composition and painted black

The head and chest have been repainted.

No. 5 represents a small mummy figure, and is composed of old rags covered with plaster of Paris, and painted. The red paint used on the figure is correct, but the artist has made the mistake of using Prussian blue. The use of this colour was not known until the eighteenth century, therefore it could not have been in use in ancient times. The red is derived from the oxide of iron found in the desert. On the front and also on the back of the figure there is a passage from the Book of the Dead. The modelling is good, but the use of the Prussian blue gives it entirely away. Nos. 2, 3, 4, and 6 represent also the funerary figures which used to be placed in the tombs to do the work of the deceased in the Underworld. The specimens shown are made from pieces of old mummy cases so as to give them the appearance of age.

Figure of a Nubian, made of slate

The plough in No. 2, [Plate V], is a very clever imitation. The shaft is long and exactly proportioned, and the end takes the form of the head of a snake. There is a ridge a quarter of the way down the shaft, to which was evidently attached the collar of the oxen. The model was made, then dipped in liquid plaster and faintly coloured a reddish-brown. The artist made the mistake of tying the pieces together with modern string instead of using raw hide thongs as the ancient Egyptians did. On the end is a figure representing Min, the god of the harvest.

All the wooden figures in the illustrations are made by the man at Gurna, who told me with many a chuckle that he had sold one plough for £4 to an eminent Egyptologist, and that he had obtained £2 for another model from the representative of a foreign museum.

[Plate V], No. 1 represents a paint-box of the early dynasties; it is made of new wood, covered with plaster, and coloured. On the top of this has been applied some size, and then some rough dirt has been thrown over it while still wet. There is a long slit for rush brushes, and three holes for the colouring material, one of which contains some colour. Its companion, No. 4, is light, and made of old wood dipped in plaster, then covered with size and cleverly coloured reddish-brown in places with bars of deep green round it. Two knobs, one for opening the lid, and the other for holding the case, are to be noted. It contains four wooden sticks for writing. There are four holes, each containing a small amount of colouring material.

As already mentioned, there is a way of detecting these forgeries. In addition to the smell of the new wood there is the sour odour of the size with which the artist covers them before sprinkling them artistically with various dusts. In the case of the boxes, they are too short and the sticks are wrong; they should have been rushes or very thin reeds teased out at one end and made into a brush. It was owing to the use of these rush or reed brushes that the letters of the ancient writings were usually made in the same way.

No. 3 of the same plate shows a reproduction of a dove, in wood, the colouring copied from an original.

CHAPTER V
STONE FIGURES

One day an up-river man offered for sale some small stone figures, and told me that he had others. I appointed a day to see them at Ibrahim’s shop. The man, accompanied by a friend, came in before I arrived there, and showed them to Ibrahim, to whom he swore by Allah that they were genuine antiquities, and well worth buying. Failing in his attempt to get Ibrahim to buy them, he asked his help to persuade me to do so, offering him a commission out of what I should pay for them. Ibrahim, in order to lead him on, said he would do his best.

When I arrived, a few poor specimens of worthless antiquities were taken out of the many receptacles which these men have about their clothes. These were put aside in silence, as unworthy of consideration. Then there was a pause.

“What else have you?” I asked.

One by one the things were brought out, until all the objects shown on [Plate VI] were lying before us.

The stone head (No. 1) is composed of green basalt. It is supposed to represent a royal personage, possibly Akhnaton. It is peculiar in that the eyes show a distinct oriental tilt. The sculpture is poor, the ears badly made, the uræus—the sign of royalty—is cut in, instead of being raised, as in all the old examples of sculpture, and the sculptor has not placed the centre of the uræus in a line with the nose. These are mistakes of which the ancient sculptor would hardly have been guilty.

The second head (No. 3) shows a different tilt of the eyes. The work is by the same man, is also in green basalt, and is no better done.

After the heads were finished they were dipped in a kind of thin plaster, and then buried in a manure heap, where they remained for a time. The price asked was £1 each, and I eventually bought them for 3s. each.

No. 2 shows a bottle of steatite. This was made in two halves, one of which broke. The fragments were embedded in a soft cement and moulded to correspond with the other side, and then coloured. This is a favourite way of faking various bowls or bottles. I have had small granite bowls offered to me, one part of which was whole, but the remainder was composed of small fragments embedded in a coloured wax, so soft that you could indent it with your nail. In addition to this it had the smell of wax.

[Plate VI], No. 4 represents a ushebti figure, bearing the cartouche of Thothmes III, and a passage from the Book of the Dead. It is composed of ordinary Nile mud, and made in a mould. It was then taken out and left to dry, and later on blackened over a charcoal fire. In many of the houses in the vicinity of Gurna and Deir-el-Bahari, in a little hole above the door, or in some other convenient place, these statues may be seen, lying in their roughened condition, just as they have been taken out of the mould.

The price paid for this was one piastre, or twopence halfpenny. Many hundreds of these figures are sold all over Egypt during the season, and many a museum, no doubt, considers itself enriched by the possession of what is nothing more than a very crude modern model of a funerary figure.

No. 5 represents a woman with a wig. She should not have been represented carrying cylinders in her hands. The maker has mixed two periods, the predominating one being probably the twelfth dynasty.

No. 6 is composed of serpentine, and represents the work of about the twelfth dynasty, and possesses the dolichocephalic features of the skull which, according to Elliot Smith, are characteristic of the ancient Egyptian race. This, however, is not apparent in the illustration. Generally speaking, the artist has not quite conformed to the Egyptian style. The ancient sculpture at all periods acquired its distinctive features from being produced in conformity with a canon. As everything was done by rule, there was an absolute certainty that each article of the period would have the distinguishing marks of this rule upon it, and that no stroke of the chisel, however rough or hastily applied, would be tentative. The effect would be produced rapidly and surely, and the amount of labour expended upon these statues would have produced a greater amount of detailed modelling.

PLATE V.

WOODEN ARTICLES.
Representing objects found in the tombs.
1 & 4. Paint boxes. 2. A model of a plough. 3. A dove.

[Plate VI], No. 7, is a copy of a ushebti of the nineteenth dynasty, made of soluble composition, probably plaster of Paris, with a weight inside, and representing basalt. The materials are very fine, and hold tightly together. It was roughly modelled first, then trimmed and cut. The maker has observed ancient modelling sufficiently to make the ears large, but he has not carried his observation to the point of studying by what conventional strokes of the chisel the details of the ears and the features of the face were produced. All Egyptian features were produced by conventional means with hardly any variety. The tools were held and the strokes made in the same manner, or the same effect could not be arrived at.

A favourite price with these men is £40, and this is what the man asked for the first figure he brought out; £20 for the mummy figure, and £10 for the other. I offered £1 for the three. On hearing this he very scornfully packed them up again, and we proceeded to bargain for the smaller antiquities he had brought with him. Then the touch of the money in his palm seemed to quicken his desire for more. Quickly some black beads, a forged wooden paint-pot, alabaster pots, scarabs, and various other things changed hands for a shilling or two each. Then I prepared to go.

“What you give for these?” demanded his companion, indicating the figures.

“They are frauds, and useless,” I replied.

“But you are well known. You buy new things.”

“Yes, at a price.”

“What you give then? You say something.”

Eventually for £2 15s. I became owner of the statuettes and four other things, for which they had, in the first place, asked nearly £100.

A few years ago a large hotel was erected near Cairo, and Italian workmen were brought over to make scagliola, or imitation stone, for pillars, &c. There is no doubt that the Egyptians seized the opportunity to acquire further knowledge, which has been applied to the forging of antiquities.

The maker of these stone forgeries is an up-river man with a keen, clever face. The skin of his left hand is soft, but that of his right hand is much harder; the fingers and thumb of this hand are bent back, showing that they have been used for hard pressure. He informed me that he always copied from a genuine antiquity or from one of the ancient carvings upon a temple wall.

A collector was approached one day by a young man who offered some small objects for sale. These were worthless, colourless scarabs and sacred eyes. Some were real enough, but broken, and of no value. The collector bought a few, and the man hinted at a statue, and gave certain vague particulars about it. A time was appointed, and in a hole in a room, which had been covered up by boards, the statue was seen, standing upright and at least two feet in height. It was taken out, and the collector examined it carefully. It seemed to be a splendid piece of work. The features were finely chiselled, and it was apparently the work of one of the best periods.

“Let me show it to the museum authorities,” said the collector. But the owner objected.

“No,” he said. “They will keep it, and send me to prison for having it.”

In the end a bargain was struck for £220, and the money paid. One day the collector showed it to a friend, who after some time made a remark which aroused the owner’s suspicions. He then sought the advice of an expert, who was extremely guarded in expressing his opinion. After a long and careful examination, however, he pronounced it a forgery.

It is only fair to say that in this instance the money was returned. The seller was willing to do this rather than run the risk of a prosecution, which would give him a bad name, and possibly a long term of imprisonment.

I saw recently a forged granite statue which was of quite good workmanship, and another which had a fault, in that the face was turned ever so slightly to one side.

In [Plate VII], Nos. 1, 2, 4, 5 are supposed to represent the sons of Horus. They are made of bone and have some plaster sticking on the reverse side. Badly cut, they are not even correct in form, as the faces should be those of a man, a dog-faced ape, a jackal, and a hawk.

No. 3 is an Osiris figure of unusual form.

No. 6 shows a ram’s head in red Aswan granite. This was the first example of forgery in granite that I had seen. The work is crude, and the features are not well brought out, but it is a remarkable example of the length to which these natives will go, and the trouble they will take in order to impose upon the credulous and get money. There is no doubt that a large number of the Egyptians have learnt to work the harder kinds of stone while employed in building the Aswan Dam.

No. 7 is a small stone hawk of incorrect shape.

No. 8 represents a frog cut in serpentine.

No. 9 is a crocodile made of slate. Part of the tail is lacking.

Nos. 10 and 11. Few people buy these as antiquities now. Their principal use seems to be that of paper-weights. They are made of plaster of Paris, and coloured. The price is about 1s. or less, but there is no doubt that some years ago they were freely sold as genuine antīcas.

Sandstone Tablet and kneeling figure

The figure on page 54 shows the statue of a kneeling man holding a tablet. It was said to have been taken out of a serdab, but the inscription has no meaning. The statue was some fifteen inches in height, and the maker had reproduced the old colours very cleverly.

The history of this tablet is somewhat curious. It was bought at Luxor for £50, and brought down to Cairo, where a doubt was cast upon its authenticity. A corner of the tablet was cut off with a saw, and it was found to be composed of sandstone. Eventually the owner became convinced that it was not a real antīca, and being unwilling to burden his luggage with so heavy a weight, gave it away. I found it standing in an out-of-the-way corner, with its face to the wall. It is an undoubted fraud.

On another occasion a Jewish collector of antiquities was approached by a Bedouin who said that he had some things to sell. A day was arranged, and they proceeded to inspect the find. There was a large stone statue and some small, almost worthless articles. After long haggling, a price was agreed upon, £75 for the lot, apportioned in the following way. The small articles were priced by the Bedouin at £35, £30, and £5 respectively, leaving £5 only as the price of the statue.

The Arab seemed very stupid and it was hard to make him understand, but eventually the bargain was struck, and the relics were taken to the Jew’s house. There photographs of the statue were taken, and sent to Paris and Berlin. After a time, the reply came back that the statue was an imitation.

The Jew made a great outcry, but the Bedouin, who no longer appeared stupid, pointed out that no question had been raised about the genuineness of the smaller objects, nor could there be, as they were real, and that only £5 had been paid for the statue. To show his good faith, he would return the £5 and let the Jew keep the other antīcas at the price he had paid for them, and this was eventually accepted.

PLATE VI.

STONE AND COMPOSITION FIGURES.
1 & 3. Heads cut in green basalt.
2. A bottle made of steatite.
4. Ushebti figure made of Nile mud and blackened.
5. Composition figure representing granite.
6. Statue made of serpentine.
7. Statue made of plaster of Paris with a weight inside.

Here is a curious story about another statue. There were two very clever men who lived in a village not far from the Great Pyramid. Both sold antiquities, but for some reason one was under the suspicion of the Government Department. A beautiful statue came into his possession, but he was afraid to offer it for sale himself, so he applied secretly to his confrère for assistance.

Shortly afterwards his people called me in to see him medically. At first sight the case was a perplexing one. There were no evidences of disease, and yet the man was sunk in a profound depression; he could not sleep, nor take any interest in the affairs of his family. He sat, sighing and silent, clasping and unclasping his fingers, day after day, surrounded by his sympathising men-friends, who smoked and drank coffee, as their custom is. The action of the heart got weaker and weaker, and his stomach would not “walk well,” while he said that he was very tired and thought he would like to die. One day I ordered all his friends out of the room, and then, after rolling out a verse of the Koran, asked him what it was that was taking “the blood from his heart”?

At first he would not answer, but after I had pointed out to him that he was walking with his eyes open towards the tomb, where the angels Munker and Nakir would not be so gentle in questioning him as I had been, he gave way and told me the whole story.

He had bought a statue from some of the fellaheen who had dug it up out of their fields. They had been hard to deal with, but he had sat for days, threatening them with the police and the wrath of the Antiquities Department. In the end he had bought the statue for the price of a feddan of land. He was as innocent as milk of doing wrong things, but some kelb (dog) had told the Department of Antiquities lies, and now he could not conduct his business without fear. It was best to be honest, as he had always said, but what could one do with men whose breath poisoned the air around them? Life was hard, and only fools went out of their way to seek for trouble. Therefore had he called in his neighbour to assist him in disposing of his treasure. His neighbour had taken the statue into his house, and in a week came an up-river man, who stayed there for a time. After many weeks, his neighbour had sent back a statue which was not the original, but a good copy, made by the man from up the river. Now, he could not take an action in the Courts to recover his statue, which was worth many hundreds of pounds, and meant, as the Pasha would understand, many acres of land, so “it is finished.” Sorrowfully he rocked himself to and fro in the most abject misery as he told the tale, and looked appealingly at me for sympathy.

It was difficult to treat a man hit so hard as this man was. It was “his chance,” which comes only once in a lifetime, and he had missed it. Bromides procured a little sleep, but the patient wasted away, and seemed not to want to live.

Then one day came some news. His neighbour had sold the statue to a museum in America for a large sum. It had been discovered to be a fraud, and had been returned; the money had had to be refunded, and the man had lost the cost of making the second statue, also his good name, and incurred sundry other expenses.

When the patient heard this, his eyes brightened forthwith. He got up from his bed, called for water, and ordered food to be prepared. Then he washed and prayed, and after that he ate a hearty meal.

Later I found that he had inspected his land, ordered alterations to his house, and given his wives extra money. I came across him in one of his fields, and he told me the news with many pious sayings. When we parted he clasped my hand warmly, saying, “Good-bye, oh Doctor Pasha. Allah kerim [God is merciful], and we are all his children; but, as my father said, it is always best to be honest.”

CHAPTER VI
PORCELAIN FIGURES

Ushebti figures in blue porcelain, of varying sizes, are now being made in Luxor, and I believe also in the Delta, near Zagazig. The modelling is good in some cases, and very bad in others, but the glaze is the wrong colour. The old Egyptian glaze was thin, and evenly distributed, while the new glaze is thicker in parts, patchy, and not quite the proper blue (see [Frontispiece]), but these faults will probably be rectified in a very short time.

The old Egyptian blue is commonly supposed to have been produced by grinding down turquoise, but there is no evidence that the Egyptians used these stones for such a purpose, although they mined turquoise in Sinai from prehistoric times.

Some time ago I came across a visitor and a friend sitting examining some specimens of Egyptian antiquities with a view to purchase. The seller, an Arab, was squatting on the ground beside a small table, which was covered with various objects from scarabs to small statues. Near by were sitting two charming ladies, who watched the proceedings with much interest.

I came up in time to hear an offer of £20 for a small, but handsome, black statue of Isis with the infant Horus, and some blue ushebti figures. The goddess and her son were represented as being seated upon a kind of throne.

“You know about these things,” said the visitor to me. “Come and tell me what you think.”

Modestly disclaiming any special knowledge, I took a seat and examined the figures for which I had heard the offer of £20. The model of Isis and Horus was beautifully cut, and appeared to be made of polished diorite, but close examination showed that it was composed of plaster of Paris, coloured black, similar to the black scarab (No. 8 on [Plate VIII]). The three ushebti figures were also very suspicious, for the blue was not the right colour, and the glaze was too uneven to be the work of the old Egyptians. As I laid the figures down, the Arab, who knew me well, looked straight into my face. Not a feature moved, and his eyes were steady and expressionless. Then, pushing a tin box towards me, he said, “Here are some very good scarabs. Look at them.”

“What do you think of the figures?” whispered the visitor.

At that moment Providence sent a wandering Egyptologist on the scene.

“Ah, here is the man who knows,” was my reply. By careful shepherding, the expert was got across to the table, and comfortably settled in a chair. I saw an angry look come over his face when he caught sight of the specimens, and I very quietly withdrew. As I left I heard the visitor say, “Ah well, you wouldn’t take my offer of twenty pounds, and now I shall retire from the business.”

An hour later, the charming ladies who had watched the scene fell foul of me for having permitted an ignorant visitor to be robbed of twenty pounds for worthless frauds.

“Why, we could see that they were not genuine!” they cried.

“Then why didn’t you say so?” was my testy reply.

“It was not our business; he didn’t ask us,” they said scornfully. “But we heard him ask you, and you did not answer.”

Now, it was quite useless to explain that I had stopped the sale by bringing the Egyptologist into the affair. I was put down as “a mean thing,” and not forgiven for some time after. Nor was this all the misfortune that befell me, for later the Egyptologist said huffily, “Look here, when next your opinion is asked upon antiquities, spurious or otherwise, do the work yourself, and don’t bring me into it.”

Later, the visitor loftily denied that he had offered £20 for the figures. Then it was that the ladies partly forgave me, for they had heard the offer made.

PLATE VII.

STONE AND OTHER FIGURES.
1, 2, 4 & 5. The Sons of Horus, or the four genii, carved in bone.
3. Osiris figure, also in bone.
6. Ram’s head in red granite.
7. Stone hawk.
8. Frog cut in serpentine.
9. Crocodile made of slate.
10 & 11. Sphinxes made of plaster, used as paper-weights.

Recently a bronze statue was sent from the Oasis of Khargeh to a dealer in Cairo, with the statement that it had just been discovered there. The sum of £500 was asked for it. Curiously enough, on the dealer’s shelf stood a reproduction of that particular statue. A comparison of the two showed that they were identical. The new piece was probably made by Italians and taken to the Oasis, where it was buried, and after a time dug up and sent to the dealer, who blandly refused to buy it.

Khargeh is an oasis in the Libyan Desert, lying more than one hundred miles to the west of the Nile. In the ancient days the Romans had an outpost there. Now it is the scene of the labours of a land company, and the Egyptian Government sometimes banishes habitual criminals and bad characters to this place.

On another occasion, when I was purchasing spurious antiquities, the seller produced a well-made statue of Isis with the infant Horus. It was cut in white stone, and the work was very good. He offered it to me for a low price, but I unfortunately tried to beat him down. At this he took umbrage, although he carefully concealed it from me. When I said that I would take the statue, he quietly pointed out to me that the price was £6, not 6s. Nor would he abate one piastre, but wrapping his statue up in some old rags, saluted me and went away. Later on I inquired from Ibrahim why it was that the man had become angry; his reply was, “These men are like that; sometimes they will sell you a thing cheaply and make no trouble over being beaten down; another time they will take offence, and though you may afterwards offer them their own price, yet they will not sell the thing to you, but will wrap it up and take it away.”

CHAPTER VII
SCARABS

This is, perhaps, one of the most difficult chapters to write, for to such a pitch of perfection have the forgers brought their reproductions, that it is now extremely difficult for even well-known Egyptologists to give a definite statement concerning the genuineness or otherwise of a specimen submitted to them.

Some years ago the authorities at the Museum in Cairo would give their decision regarding antiquities shown to them by visitors, but now that is all changed, and they refuse to express an opinion. The Egyptians, however, still loudly protest that they are willing to have their scarabs submitted to the Museum authorities, knowing perfectly well that the experts there will give no opinion at all; but they hope that by so frankly and freely making this offer, the collector will take it for granted that the specimen is genuine, otherwise they would not be willing to take the risk of submitting it to such authorities.

From time to time the vendors make a coup, which, as there is a certain freemasonry amongst them, becomes known, and stimulates others to renewed efforts.

The novice in antiquities is extremely likely to be taken in, and should he show any disposition to buy, or express a wish to purchase, articles other than those shown to him, by some mysterious means the news goes round, and immediately there gather from all parts sellers of specimens both false and real. These men will never give each other away, but will back up the most lying assertions with surprising assurance mingled with the most childlike assumption of innocence. If found out, they will swear by their gods that it is you who are mistaken, not they. They will look you straight in the face while telling you the most bare-faced untruths. This attitude they will carry to a great length and then suddenly break down, grin, and admit that the supposed antiquity is a fraud, but will deny any desire to cheat you. Later on they will make a special journey to see you again, bringing with them some more forgeries, fondly hoping that you may be induced to buy one of them.

The scarab, or replica of the sacred beetle of Egypt, was used as a seal, an amulet, or a charm, and was buried with the dead in large numbers, sometimes arranged in a certain form upon the mummy’s chest. In the place of the heart there is frequently to be found a large scarab with sayings from the Book of the Dead inscribed upon it. It was supposed that the sacred beetle would ward off attacks of evil spirits, and give the dead a better chance of resting in peace in the other world. Sometimes a scarab would be inscribed with the records of an event, such as a voyage to Punt. Amenhotep III, in celebration of his marriage with Queen Tiy, issued a large number of scarabs, carved in stone and engraved with a record of the event. (Breasted.)

The forgeries of scarabs are very numerous, and date back to remote periods. A few thousand years ago, it was not uncommon for a maker of charms to forge scarabs and amulets belonging to a king or a period long past, and sell them as the real article, for then, as now, the real antique had the greater value.

During the past few years, the making of forgeries has received a great impetus owing to the scarcity of the real articles, and the ever-increasing demand. Many are the humorous tales told about the difficult positions in which experts have found themselves, when suddenly confronted with palpable frauds and a demand for an expression of opinion.

A story is told of an expert who wished to play off a joke upon a very old and valued friend. So he fashioned two scarabs, and cut upon them the story of the circumnavigation of Africa. There is an ancient record that two scarabs were really in existence bearing inscriptions concerning this journey. It is said that Necho had them made during his lifetime and had the record of the journey cut upon them, but up to the present they have not been found. The expert intended to send those he had made round to his old friend as a birthday present, and the two would have laughed and chuckled together over the joke. Finally he put them away in his desk to await the proper time to send them, and then other matters claimed his attention so that he forgot all about them.

Some years later an illness came on, and he died. When his effects were disposed of, these scarabs were found and sold to a museum for £400. After a time they were discovered to be forgeries, and an action at law was brought in Europe. Despite the fact that the sellers pleaded ignorance and good faith, one was sentenced to imprisonment, not for fraud, but for the civil debt, owing to inability to refund the amount.

That the scarabs were imitation was first discovered by a grammatical error in the inscription, and this led to a closer examination of the material used, which proved to be lithographic stone.

On another occasion, an excavator was being entertained by a very rich man. While smoking after dinner a number of scarabs were produced, and the excavator’s opinion was asked as to their being genuine or not. £74 had been paid for them, and the excavator was obviously in a dilemma, for not one of them was genuine. He looked at them carefully, one by one, and then laid them down, saying that he would not like to express an opinion.

“Come,” urged his host, “tell me what you think. I know you are an expert, and I want your opinion on them.”

“Well, if you really want to know, they are all forgeries,” said the expert grimly.

There was silence for a moment, and the host looked ruefully at the row of sacred beetles. Then, being a good sportsman, he said, “Don’t say a word to the ladies. We will keep it to ourselves.”

PLATE VIII.

SCARABS AND AMULETS.

That gives the essence of the whole thing. The intrinsic value of a scarab is, perhaps, sixpence; the archæological value is whatever one likes to put upon them. And so cleverly are the forgeries made that people are just as happy with the imitations as they would be with the real articles, provided, of course, that they remain in blissful ignorance of the truth.

One day, a big hand was laid upon my shoulder, and a broad American voice chuckled in my ear, “Hello, Doc, fancy meeting you here.” He was an old friend, and the meeting was a pleasant one. In answer to the question how he had come there, so far from his beloved New York, he answered:

“Wal, I just sort of blew in, wanted a change, and Wall Street not being what I call a business proposition at this moment, I thought I’d come. And now I’ll just go up the Pyramid.”

Later on he came back with a chastened mien.

“Well, how did you get on?”

“Why, it was fine. The view ain’t exactly like the Rocky Mountains scenery, but it was fine all the same. And I bought some sca-rabs.”

“You didn’t! Let me see them.”

As he fumbled about for three miserable little specimens, he explained how it came about.

“You know that place, half-way up, where the stones jut out? Wal, when we got there, them durned A-rabs stopped and said, ‘Say, mister, this is the place where they buy sca-rabs.’ I looked down, and saw that it was a two hundred feet clean drop to the bottom, and I said that I thought it was, so I bought them.”

“How much did you pay for them?”

“Two dollars.”

“Let me see them.”

Then he produced his scarabs.

“They are forgeries,” was my remark.

“That may be,” said my friend complacently, “but it was a clean drop to the bottom from that durned stone, and I guess I am not hankering after eternal glory just now.”

Among the scarabs was one with the name of Khaf-Ra, the builder of the Second Pyramid ([Plate VIII], No. 30) upon it. The workmanship is quite modern, and up to the present no contemporary scarabs have been found bearing Khaf-Ra’s name. However, as he had only paid 8s. for them, he had not been very badly done.

A very large number of scarabs have been found which are made of composition material, or cut out of a piece of stone and left uncoloured. These fetch very small prices, although they may be the genuine articles, therefore the up-river men have taken to re-glazing them. They obtain pieces of old glaze from the ushebti figures and pieces of old glass and melt these down. But the re-glazed scarabs can usually be detected, even although the colour may be correct, by the irregularity of the glazing, and the fact that between the legs of the beetle the dirt can usually be seen under the glaze.

Sometimes the makers grind up these poor and broken scarabs and remould them. Then they re-glaze them, and swear to you by Allah that they are indeed old.

The natives oil antiquities to make them look polished or to enhance the colour. This method the forgers are applying now to their productions.

There is a man at Qus who is a most clever forger of gold jewellery, but he also does a good deal of work recutting scarabs. His procedure is to grind the inscription off the base of the original scarab, recut the cartouche, and re-glaze it. The scarabs can be detected by the thinness of the base plate, and by the peculiar manner in which the hawks are made, with a hump on the back, like the Mut vulture.

Most of the spurious scarabs were, until a year or two ago, made at Luxor, where one man in particular is an artist at the work. I have known him ask 8s. for one which he had just finished, and obstinately refuse to take less. “I am not like the fellaheen, who work for five piastres a day,” he declared. “I do good work, and am going to be paid for it.” He did not see any harm in what he was doing, nor did he try to keep his business secret, and he took a pride in turning out work which was very difficult to tell from the original.

It is curious in what out-of-the-way places these scarabs turn up. Recently, in a consulting-room in Harley Street, one was put before me and my opinion asked. It had been given to the physician by a grateful patient. I did not answer, but after a good look laid it down. “I thought so,” said the doctor quietly, as he picked it up and slipped it into a drawer.

One of the most remarkable features of scarab buying is the number of people who will avoid respectable shops where the proprietors have a reputation to lose, on the score that they are too dear, and then pick up with some boy in the street who has a glib tongue and a plausible manner, and who brings out the inevitable tin box with a motley assortment of worthless odds and ends. Once let such a boy get an inkling of the fact that you mean to buy, and he will be back next day with a fresh lot of good-looking antīcas. Where they come from is a mystery, but I suspect that there is a system of interchange between these men, and that they sell for one another and settle up afterwards.

I remember a lady who scornfully declined to buy from a respectable shop, and then found a boy who told her a long story of how he dug antīcas up and sold them cheaper than other people. I know that she bought nearly £50 worth from him, but how much more I never heard. Later on, the buyer will to a certainty get a rude shock over some of her cherished possessions.

Amulets, or wishing scarabs, are frequently to be bought. The frauds can, as a rule, be told by their light weight and velvety feel, and by the crudeness of the work; but this last is not invariable, and every year the scarab forgers are producing a better article.

Walking along the river-front at Luxor one day, I was accosted by an old man who produced a rag in which was tied up a piece of old broken pottery. This was the lure, for upon my refusing to buy it, he took out a small object rolled up in pink paper. This turned out to be a fine specimen of a walking scarab. The colour was good, and the inscriptions were very fair, while the undercutting was extremely good.