# Egyptian Literature/Introduction

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SPECIAL INTRODUCTION
THE wonders of Egyptian archaeology are the latest and most precious harvest of scholars and explorers. From Belzoni to Flinders Petrie there has been a succession of discoveries in the valley of the Nile with which it is hard for ordinary students to keep pace. Our knowledge of Egyptian life to-day is far clearer and more complete than Bentley's or Person's acquaintance with the antiquities of Greece and Rome, and we have far more complete access to the treasures of Egyptian literature than Dante or Thomas Aquinas had to the remains of Attic poets and mystics. We know exactly how an Egyptian of the twelfth dynasty dressed; what was the position of women in Egypt; and what uniform was worn by the Egyptian soldiers who took part in the campaign against Khitasis. We can see Rameses II riding in his war-chariot; we know the very names of the horses by whose side his tame lion is running and thirsting for the blood of his master's foes. We know all about the domestic animals, the funeral customs, the trades, the gods, the agriculture of the Nile valley thirty centuries ago. We see the whole many-sided civilization portrayed in the brightest colors in the poetry, the books of ritual, the hieratic inscriptions, the tablets, papyri, and hieroglyphics which day by day come to light in exhaustless abundance from the mounds and ruins of that fertile plain that stretches from Thebes to the Mareotic lake.
For instance, we can learn exact particulars about the mode in which Rameses II made war, from the poem of Penta-Our, a Theban writer of the fourteenth century B.C. It is only by a figure of speech that this poem can be called an epic; it is rather a historical narrative couched in terms of poetic exaggeration with the object of flattering the royal vanity of Pharaoh.
The campaign in which Rameses then engaged was directed ​against Kadesh, a city built on an island in the Orontes. It is, according to Penta-Our, inhabited by a people known as Khita, whose spies are brought into the tent of Rameses and questioned as to the whereabouts of the King of Kadesh. The spies are forced by blows to answer, and they tell the Egyptian monarch that the King of the Khita “is powerful with many soldiers, and with chariot soldiers, and with their harness, as many as the sand of the seashore, and they are ready to fight behind Kadesh.”
The King is very angry; for he had been deceived by false news to the effect that his enemy had fled in terror to Khilibu. “The fault is great,” he cries, “that the governors of the land and the vassal princes of Pharaoh have committed, in neglecting to watch the movements of the Khita.” He sends to bring back the legions he had sent away, and meanwhile the approach of the enemy is announced. The camp of Rameses is surprised by the Asiatics; many foot-soldiers are killed before they can seize their weapons, but a faithful band rallies in front of the royal quarters. Suddenly a cry is heard; Rameses has quickly put on his armor, seized his lance, ordered his war lion to be loosed, and dashed into the fight. Pharaoh with his master of the horse, Menni, is soon hemmed in by foes. “My Lord, O generous King!“ cries Menni, “Egypt’s great protector in the day of battle! behold we stand alone in the midst of the enemy, for the archers and the chariots have left us. Let us return, that our lives may be saved. Save us, O my Lord, Rameses Miamun!“ Then Rameses called upon Amen, his god, and under his protection charged the enemy, and “his hand devoured them in the space of an instant.” Five times he rushed upon them, and five times they repulsed him. The sixth time he breaks their ranks and regains his own lines. Then the legions of Ptah, which had returned to the camp, join the battle, and the Asiatics are routed. The first care of Rameses is to refresh his brave horses, Victory-in-Thebes and Maut-is-Satisfied. Neither they nor Rameses and his lion are wounded, though all stained with blood and dust, while the head-plumes of the team are torn and tattered and their caparison broken.
This is a brief account of the main incident in this Egyptian epic, which is written with life-like detail and animation. The ​war concludes with a treaty, and the marriage of Rameses with the daughter of the King of Kadesh, so that henceforth “the people of Egypt were of one mind with the princes of Khita, which had not been the case since the god Rā.”
The Egyptians have always been deeply impressed by the fact of human mortality, and much of their religious belief and religious ritual is taken up with the rites of burial, and detailed doctrines as to the experience of the soul after parting from the body. Their elaborate embalming of the dead springs from the desire to keep the mortal tenement prepared for the soul’s return to it. In their Book of the Dead is a full series of prayers, songs, and incantations to be employed at funerals, and by the individual in his journey beyond the tomb. The funeral procession was a very noisy company; lamentations were heard through its whole length, but the burden of the hymns was always, “To the West.” This was enlarged upon, “To the West, the dwelling of Osiris; O Chief, as thou goest to the West, the Gods themselves lament, as thou goest to the West.”
Osiris is the judge who weighs the souls, and allots them happiness or misery, according to their deserts. “The Book of the Dead“ is interesting because it teaches how clearly and dogmatically the solemn and precise Egyptian stated his views and held his convictions concerning the unknown country. Four parts of man, it was said, survive after death, namely, the soul, the spirit, the shadow, and the double. The double remains in the tomb, and only leaves it in search of food. Sometimes it feels its loneliness and avenges itself upon near relations who have forsaken it. But the soul hurries to the bar of Osiris, where Thoth weighs the heart in the scales, and the innocent are admitted into the Field of Beans, a realm of fertility, where wheat grows seven cubits high. Immortality is spent in feasting, singing, conversation, and games. But the whole of this wonderful book is well worth studying. It shows how what Addison calls “this longing after immortality“ led an ancient and deeply religious people to attempt in their burial rites to rob even the grave of its terrors, and conjured up out of the shadows of the tomb a clear and distinct vision of future life, wherein man in his complete individuality survived to all eternity.
​Among the most important results of recent Egyptian exploration must be reckoned the discovery of the tablets of Tell Amarna. Tell Amarna is a village in Upper Egypt, and in a pit at the foot of the mountain, at the base of which it stands, were discovered hundreds of these relics, which have since been distributed among the museums of London, Berlin, and Gizeh. The writing on these tablets is cuneiform, and the matter is of profound historic importance, illustrating, as it does, the relations between Egypt and western Asia in the fifteenth century b.c. While the existence of these tablets proves that cuneiform writing was common to Palestine and Syria as well as the Euphrates Valley, yet curiously enough the manuscripts of Tell Amarna are different from any of the same kind that have been found elsewhere, and the language resembles somewhat the Hebrew of the Old Testament.
While most of these tablets are letters and despatches from friendly powers in Syria, and from vassal princes in Palestine, others, contain interesting legends. The letters are addressed to the Pharaohs known as Amenophis III and Amenophis IV, who reigned in the sixteenth and fifteenth centuries b.c.
The Egyptians employed what practically were three alphabets—the hieroglyphic, the hieratic, and the demotic. The hieroglyph is a symbol, denoting something without letters or syllables; as, pictures of a bee stand for king. The hieratic handwriting was a transition from symbols to primitive letters; the papyrus reed, cut in slices and gummed together, was used as paper for this writing, much of which is very beautifully executed in black and red inks. These papyri are constantly being discovered, but perhaps the earliest “find“ of importance was that at Thebes in 1846, when a number of literary compositions were brought to light which must have been executed during the twelfth dynasty, about twenty-five centuries b.c.
The Egyptian Tales are works written in a lighter vein than the literature we have already described. They will be read with delight, and none the less so because they show that the Egyptians, who are the Chinese of the Mediterranean, possess that saving quality in literary and political life, namely, a sense of humor.