CHAPTER X.

The Nineteenth Dynasty (_circa_ 1400-1200 B.C.)

Rameses the Great.

The peace of Egypt was not disturbed, although the direct succession again failed at the death of Horus. It is more than doubtful whether the soldier Rameses who now came to the front was of the royal line at all. He married his son Seti to a princess of the house of Pharaoh, and associated him with himself in the government. After a brief reign, of which next to nothing is recorded, he died, and left the crown to Seti. The wife of this sovereign was regarded with reverence as the descendant of the ancient line; and her claim to remembrance in after times was not so much that she was the wife of Seti, as that she was mother of Rameses II., in whose person the direct line was again restored. The child was associated with his father from a very early age, so that at any rate the sanction of a true-born Pharaoh might be given, however nominally, to all that was done.

The reign of Seti I. was not long, but it was full of stirring events, which are recorded on a wall of the great temple at Karnak. Egypt had been absorbed in religious and domestic dissensions, and her claims to supremacy and empire in Asia had been allowed to lapse. Encouraged by this apparent indifference, the wandering Shasu tribes had ventured to cross the frontier, and had entered the Delta. Seti was a man of war, and was no doubt glad at heart to veil the obscurity of his birth and his doubtful right to the crown in a dazzling cloud of military triumph and renown. He marched against the intruding Shasu, and soon discomfited them. ‘The king was against them as a fierce lion; not one escaped to tell of his strength to the distant nations,’ it is said. Nevertheless, we find them soon after able to rally and make a stand upon Phœnician soil with the Phœnicians as allies. The king, whose horses on this occasion bore the name, ‘Amen gives him strength,’ again attacked and overthrew them; then, turning upon their allies, he defeated them also, the Egyptian chariots meeting the Phœnician in furious encounter. Afterwards he marched upon the Rutennu (Canaanites), and his horses were called ‘big with victory.’ So rapid was his success, that his approach took the great Syrian stronghold of Kadesh unawares. Herds and flocks were quietly pasturing under its walls when the Egyptian army appeared in sight. In hot haste herds and herdsmen fled within the city walls for shelter; the garrison forthwith made a sally, but Seti was too strong for them, and the fortress was stormed and captured.

A more formidable enemy remained. Northwards from Syria dwelt the powerful nation of the Kheta (or Hittites), who now appear upon the scene for the first time. Over their well-ordered hosts likewise Seti claims a victory. ‘As a jackal,’ say the inscriptions, ‘he rushes through the land and seeks after his prey—he is as a fierce lion that haunteth the most hidden paths in every land—as a mighty bull that hath whetted his horns for the strife. He hath smitten down the Asiatics, and thrown the Kheta to the ground; their princes hath he slain by the sword.’ It is quite plain, nevertheless, that the Egyptian monarch was glad enough to conclude a peace on equal terms with his brave opponents, and to return home again. On his way he visited the country of Limmanon (Lebanon) to procure cedar trees for the construction of a vessel to be used in the processions of Amen-Ra, and for the erection of the masts on the gate-towers of the temple. The people of that region received him with every mark of friendliness and respect; they are seen in the pictured story busily engaged in cutting down the tallest and finest of the trees for the service of the king.

Seti re-entered Egypt in triumph, laden with rich spoil; he was greeted with acclamations, and welcomed with peaceful offerings of fragrant flowers, songs of victory, and shouts of exultation. ‘Thou hast triumphed over thy foes, and hast quenched the fury of thy heart. Ra himself has established thy boundaries. His hand has protected thee when thy battle-axe was raised aloft above the heads of thine enemies; their kings fell by thy sword.’

No doubt in this blaze of glory and glitter of spoil all remaining misgivings as to the ‘right divine’ were dispelled and forgotten, especially as in a succeeding campaign the boy Rameses accompanied him. From his very birth this boy had been the object of regard and almost of devotion. He is seen in early infancy caressed by his mother and the ladies of the court. Later on he stands by his father’s side doing homage to his ancestors or to the gods in the temple of Abydos. On state occasions he occupied a prominent position, and was the central point of interest—the idol of his parents, and the hope of the nation, who cherished a real and most effective belief in the divine right of the god-descended race of their sovereigns. In a small Nubian temple is a sculpture, in which the youth is represented as returning from his first campaign, and receiving a loving welcome from his mother. She has noble features, as became her lineage, and there is a likeness between her and her son—so that although she is represented as a goddess, the face is no doubt intended as a portrait. The campaign from which she welcomes home her son, was against the Libyans, and, not unlikely, he stood by his father’s side when the chariot, drawn by horses called ‘Victorious is Amen,’ fell upon the foe. ‘He utterly destroyed them,’ it is said, ‘as they stood upon the field of battle; they could not hold their bows, and they remained hidden in their caves like foxes, for fear of the king.’

Seti again celebrated a triumph, and dedicated his spoil to Amen-Ra, together with the prisoners, whom he gave to the service of the temple, both as men and women servants. ‘The kings of the nations that did not know Egypt,’ so they sang on the occasion, ‘are brought by Pharaoh. They magnify his mighty deeds, saying: “Hail to thee, King of Egypt! Mighty is thy name. Happy is the people that is subject to thy will, but he who oversteppeth thy boundaries shall appear led in chains as a prisoner. We did not know Egypt; our fathers had not entered it. Grant us freedom out of thy hand.”’

The events of Seti’s campaigns are sculptured on the north wall of his Hall of Columns at Karnak. He is spoken of there as taking an intense and ferocious delight in battle. ‘Dear to him is the fray! his delight is to dash therein; his heart is satisfied when he beholds streams of blood gush forth, and strikes off the heads of his enemies. One moment of the strife of men is more precious to him than a whole day of pleasure. With one stroke he smiteth down the foe and spareth none, and whosoever is left alive he carrieth down into Egypt alive as a prisoner.’ So keen and savage a delight in bloodshed has confirmed some writers in the idea that Seti came of some alien race, as it is out of harmony with the mildness and humanity that characterised the Egyptian character. His name is considered as probably showing a close connection with the Delta, where Set was worshipped, chiefly by the foreign settlers; whilst the name of that god was so hateful in Egyptian eyes that it was chiselled away from the monuments, both during Seti’s life and after his death, even though it occurred as part of the royal name, and the king himself appears frequently to have changed his own objectionable name for that of Osiris. It may also be noted that the type of face of the sovereigns of the nineteenth dynasty is different from that of the preceding kings, and is decidedly of a more Semitic cast.

Although Seti had reconquered Syria, and possibly the adjacent lands, it does not seem that the stream of tribute flowed in such abundance as during the reign of Thothmes the Great. Treasure, however, was required, and the king resolved to have the valley of Hammamat thoroughly explored and worked. He went there himself in the ninth year of his reign, for, as the inscription says, ‘his heart wished to see the mines whence the gold is brought.’ Water was, of course, the first necessity as of old in the days of the eleventh dynasty, and Seti visited the hills in company with those who knew most about the water-courses. The desolation of the hot waterless valleys struck the king. After a journey of some miles he is said to have halted to meditate quietly, and he ‘said within himself, “If the road be without water the wayfarers must perish; they die of parching thirst. Where shall I find a place where the burning thirst may be quenched? Vast is this region, and far does it extend. He who is here overtaken by thirst will cry out, ‘O this land of perdition!’ Those who come hither will come to perform their obligations towards me; I must do that which will enable them to live. Thus shall my name be venerated throughout future generations.”’ When the king had said thus within himself he went up into the hills to found there a sanctuary wherein prayer might be offered to the god. After that it pleased him to assemble workmen to quarry the stone, and to form a reservoir there amongst the hills for the purpose of sustaining the fainting by giving him fresh water in the time of the summer heat. And the water came in great abundance, like the waters of the Nile at Abu. The king spake and said, ‘The god has heard my prayer; the water has come forth abundantly out of the rocks; the road that had no water has been made good under my reign. The shepherds shall have pasture for their flocks.’

A town was afterwards built at this new centre of industry, and a temple erected where Seti offered worship ‘to his fathers the gods.’ Guards were appointed to protect the convoyers of the precious metal, which was largely used by the king in adorning both temples and statues of the gods. Indeed, all the works ascribed to this reign are remarkable for their beauty and perfect finish, so that Seti I. can hardly be looked upon, after all, as nothing more than a man of blood and a lover of the fray. The chief of his works is a grand Hall of Columns that he added to the Great Temple at Karnak, founded so long before by Amenemhat I. It contained 134 immense columns of massive proportions, but, like his other undertakings, it had to be left incomplete, as his reign was not of long duration. In one of the corridors of his beautiful temple at Abydos was found the famous ‘Tablet,’ so invaluable to students of Egyptian history. It contained the names of 76 royal ancestors of Rameses II., going back to King Mena himself; and the young Rameses is seen standing by his father and offering homage to their memories; on the opposite wall are inscribed the names of the Egyptian gods and goddesses, and a beautifully executed bas-relief represents the prince, under his father’s direction, pouring out in honour of the deities a libation, which is received into a vessel full of flowers.

The strong affection borne by Seti to his young son was fully returned, and it was with the most reverent heed that Rameses, on his accession, carried out and completed all that his father had begun. In Western Thebes Seti had founded a memorial sanctuary to his father’s name, which he intended as his own burial-place. But ‘he died,’ says Rameses, ‘and entered the realm of heaven and united himself with Ra, whilst this his house was being built. The gates showed a vacant place; all the works of stone and brick had yet to be raised, and all the writing and painting to be done.’ The mummy of the king had, it seems, been placed meanwhile in his temple at Abydos. One morning it happened that, after celebrating a magnificent festival of Amen-Ra at Thebes, Rameses started at dawn of day for his new and favourite capital in the Delta.[46] The royal ships, it is said, threw their brightness on the river. Orders had been given for the journey down the stream, but on reaching the canal that led to Abydos the young king gave directions to turn aside thither that he might ‘behold the face of his father and offer sacrifice.’ But on arriving, he was much struck by the general dilapidation of the tombs, and the marks of careless neglect on every side. ‘Nothing had been built up,’ he said, ‘by the son for the father, though he should have been careful to preserve it according to his expectations, since its possessor had taken flight to heaven. But not one son had renewed the memorial of his father who rested in the grave.’ On examining his own father’s temple, he found evidence not only of neglect but of dishonesty. ‘The revenues had failed, the servants of the temple had taken, without exception, whatever had come in for themselves.’ Consequently the columns were not raised on their bases, the statues lay prostrate on the ground. Rameses forthwith called together the princes, the captains and the architects, and after their prostrations and flattering speeches were ended he addressed them. After speaking of the state of things he had found at Abydos, he went on to say: ‘The most beautiful thing to behold, the best thing to hear, is a child with a thankful breast, whose heart beats for his father. When I was but a little boy I attained to the supremacy. The lord of all himself nourished and brought me up; he gave over to me the land. I sat on his lap as a child, and he presented me publicly to the people, saying, “I will have him crowned king, for my desire is to behold his glory whilst I am yet alive. Place the royal diadem upon his brow. May he restore order and set up again that which has fallen into ruin. May he care for the people, the inhabitants of the land.” Thus graciously did he speak out of his tender love towards me. Therefore will I do what is fitting and good for Seti Menephtah.[47] I will renew his memory. I will not neglect his tomb, as children are accustomed to do who do not remember their parents. I will complete it because I am lord of the country. I will take care of it because it is right and seemly.’ He is answered with profuse flatteries, and is assured that none but he and Horus, son of Isis, imagine and perform such things. The king then appoints the following song for his own honour and in his father’s memory:—

‘Awake, lift up thy face towards heaven; behold the sun, O my father, thou who hast become like God. Here am I who will make thy name to live. I myself, I myself am come here to build thy temple near to that of Unnefer,[48] the eternal king.’

Rameses proceeds to tell of all his gifts and rich endowments, and then addresses his father thus:—

‘Thou hast entered into the realm of heaven. Thou art in the company of Ra. Thou art united with the moon and stars. Thou restest in the deep like those who dwell with Unnefer the eternal king. When the sun ariseth thou dost behold its splendour: when he sinketh down to rest, thou art in his train. Thou enterest within the secret house, and remainest in the company of the gods. Speak thou to Ra and to Unnefer with a heart full of love, that he may grant long years and feasts of jubilee unto King Rameses. Well will it be for thee that I should reign for a long time, for thou wilt be honoured by a good son who remembers his father.’

In answer to this invocation Seti appears and promises all that the heart of a king could desire, and more especially the length of days entreated by his son.

Long life was certainly appointed to King Rameses, who reigned for 67 years. Whilst still a youth he was summoned to serious conflict. Not only had the Syrian princes again risen, but the powerful and civilised nation of the Kheta had prepared to put forth all its strength against its mighty rival. Their country lay north of Syria, and their dominion extended eastward over a part of Mesopotamia, and westward to the coast of Asia Minor. Seti had encountered them, but although he claimed a great victory, he had found it advisable immediately afterwards to conclude a treaty and to return home. Khetasir, king of the Kheta, encouraged perhaps by the extreme youth of Seti’s successor, had formed a strong confederacy against Egypt, and placed himself at its head. Besides his Syrian and Phœnician allies, he had called together the inhabitants of Mesopotamia on the east, and of the towns on the sea-coast, including, some have imagined, a contingent from Ilium,[49] as yet unbesieged of Greek, and unknown in song. The Egyptian forces reached Kadesh and pitched their camp in its neighbourhood.

The scenes of this campaign are made very real and living to us, being painted and sculptured in full detail on the walls of the Theban temples, and its chief episode is immortalised in the heroic poem of Pentaur. We see the Egyptian camp in the form of a square, with a temporary wall of enclosure, formed by piled up shields; servants are resting, asses are wandering about; there too is the lion of Rameses, the famous beast who accompanied him in his campaigns, and whose name was Semem-kheftu-ef: ‘Tearer to pieces of his enemies.’ The king’s tent is seen, and near it is the shrine of the god. An inscription duly informs us: ‘This is the first legion of Amen, who bestows victory on King Rameses. Pharaoh is with it. It is pitching its camp.’

Another picture gives us an important episode. The inscription tell us: ‘This is the arrival of the spies of Pharaoh. They are bringing two spies of the Kheta before the king. They are beating them to make them declare where the king of the Kheta is.’ For the plain fact was that the Egyptians were very much at a loss. Not long before two men had come into the camp, professing themselves to be leaders of the Shasu, who were wishing to desert the cause of the Kheta and to join the Egyptian army; for the king of the Kheta was far away, and was remaining in the country of the Khilibu for fear of the Egyptians. Rameses, it is not unlikely, was flattered by this tribute to the terror inspired by his very name; at any rate he believed their story too easily, and set out at once with slender forces in a north-westerly direction, leaving the main body to follow more leisurely. But at this juncture the two spies mentioned in the inscription were captured, and from them was extorted the confession that the Kheta were not by any means far off, but were at that moment lying in ambush close at hand, had horses and riders in great number, and all implements of war, and were ‘more in number than the sands of the sea.’ Anger swelled high in the breast of the young king; he called together the leaders and captains, and bitterly upbraided them for their neglect and carelessness. ‘You have been telling me every day that the enemy are far away in the country of the Khilibu, and now, hear what these men say. Bring up our forces to the attack—they are close at our side.’ But meanwhile the king of the Kheta had fallen suddenly upon the main body of the Egyptian army, who were following the advanced guard slowly and in careless security, and had taken them completely by surprise. They gave way and fell back upon the road that led to the place where the king was stationed with his advanced guard. But ‘when Pharaoh saw this he was wroth; he seized his armour and appeared like unto the god of war in his hour. He mounted his chariot and rushed forth alone. None was with him. He rushed upon the foe and cast them down, and subdued the people before him. Then did the king of the Kheta lift up his hands in supplication.’

The scene is a favourite one, and is depicted more than once. We see the orderly masses of the Kheta in contrast to their less regular and less warlike allies. We see the heroic onslaught of the king, and the desperate encounter of the chariots on the plain of the Orontes. The Khetan chariots are beheld overthrown and hurled into the river, where the horsemen are confusedly struggling. One prince is being dragged out and held with his head hanging down, and we learn ‘This is the King of Khilibu; his warriors are raising him up after Pharaoh has thrown him into the water.’

Such was the battle of Kadesh, in which it is evident that the Egyptian army, after having been brought by bad generalship to the brink of destruction, was saved from ruin by the desperate valour and personal prowess of Rameses himself. It is this exploit that is celebrated by the poet Pentaur two years later in such glowing poetic hyperbole:—

‘He arose like unto Mentu, the god of war, and put speed to his horses, and urged on his steeds,—named “Triumph in Thebes,” and “Mut[50] is content.” None dared follow his headlong assault. He was alone and none other with him. And lo! he was encircled by the Khetan host; 2500 chariots were around him, and countless hosts cut off the way behind. On each chariot three men stood, and all were massed together man to man.’

The king now speaks:—

‘Not a prince, not a captain was by me. My chiefs and knights had failed. No man was there to take my part against the foe. O Amen, my father, I know thee; where art thou? Has ever a father forgotten his son? Thy precepts, thy will have I ever denied? has ought I have done been apart from thee? These hosts of the foe, what are they to thee! Amen can humble the imperious and proud. To thee I built temples and offered rich gifts. The wealth of the nations I laid at thy feet. Lo! I am alone, and none other is with me. I called on my soldiers, and none heard my cry. More to me is thy power than myriads of men—than thousand times thousand arrayed for the war. On thee, father Amen, on thee do I call!

‘In far-off Hermonthis my prayer was heard. He stood by my side. “Lo! I am come! Rameses Meri-amen,[51] thy prayer has been heard. I _am_ more to thee than thousand times thousand. And the brave heart I love—my blessing is his. Nor can ought that I will of accomplishment fail.”

‘Then I rose up like Mentu and smote down the foe. A terror seized them and none dared fight. No man could shoot nor grasp the spear. Headlong they plunged into the stream like the crocodile. Still stood the King of Kheta to behold King Rameses, for—“He was alone, none other with him.” Once more did he attack with all his power, but I rushed upon them like a flame of fire and slew them where they stood. Each man cried unto his fellow, saying: “No mortal man is he who is against us. It is Set the mighty—‘tis the god of war. Whoso draws near him his hand drops, nor can he grasp the bow or spear.” I called upon my foot and horse: “Take heart—be firm—behold my victory.” I was alone, but Amen was beside me.’

The whole poem is too long to be given here, but we learn that when at length the terror-stricken forces rallied upon seeing the victory of the king and beholding the multitude of corpses, they approached with adulation and flattery, extolling the hero to the skies. No wonder that his reply is stern:—

‘The king spake and said: “O my captains and soldiers who have _not_ fought! of what profit is all your devotion? Which of you has done his duty before his king? Who ever did for you what I did? and now have ye altogether failed me; none stood by to help me in the battle. Shame upon my horse and foot! shame more than words can say! As for my horses, they indeed were with me, and upheld me when I was alone amid the raging foe. Henceforth shall they eat food before me in my palace for ever.”’

Next day the battle was resumed with fury, and at the close the Kheta sued for peace, which Rameses, apparently, was glad enough to grant. Accepting their submission he returned to Egypt ‘joyful and glad at heart.’

A hearty welcome was accorded to the conqueror throughout Egypt, but nowhere was he so warmly received as in his favourite seat San-Tanis, better known to us as Zoan. In the early days of the monarchy this had been an important city and an emporium of trade. It stood on one of the arms of the Nile, and was not far from the eastern frontier of the Delta. The Hyksos kings had occupied it soon after their invasion; they often resided there, and under them it attained great splendour and importance. After their expulsion it was neglected, nor did it come again into prominence until the days of Rameses, who almost rebuilt it, and under whom it became one of the most magnificent of the great cities of Egypt. It was known as Pa-Ramessu, the ‘city of Rameses,’ and we are fortunate in possessing a description of it by an Egyptian writer, written apparently in prospect of the king’s triumphal entry: ‘I came to the city of Rameses Meri-amen. Beautiful is she exceedingly. Thebes itself is not comparable unto her—the secret of happiness is here. Her meadows are full of all things fair and good, daily producing abundance of food; the pools are full of fish, and the lakes swarm with waterfowl; the fields are green with verdure; the melons are sweet as honey. The barns and threshing-floors are full of wheat and barley, heaped up even unto heaven; herbs of all kinds abound in the gardens; there the apple-tree blooms, the vine, the citron, and the fig-tree. Sweet is the wine like honey. The canal yields salt, the lake of Paher, natron (soda). The ships come and go daily, and there is plenty without stint. Gladness dwells in Pa-Ramessu, and happy is he whose habitation is therein. The lowly ones are like unto the great. They all unite to say: “Come and let us celebrate the heavenly and the earthly festivals!” The people of the marsh land bring lilies, and from Pshenhor come the crimson-tinted flowers of the pools. The maidens of the “conqueror’s city” are adorned as for a day of festivity. They stand at the doors, and their hands are filled with flowers and garlands on the morning of the day when King Rameses Meri-amen, the war-god upon earth, makes his entry. All flock together, neighbour with neighbour; each man bringing his petition.

‘Sweet is the wine of the conqueror’s city. Cider and delicious drinks abound. Sweet song by the women of the school of Memphis resounds; joy is in every heart. All are as one to celebrate the praises of this god—even of King Rameses Meri-amen, the war-god of the world.’

In the early part of his reign, Rameses was engaged in more than one warlike enterprise, but none ever created so much excitement, or so fascinated the popular imagination as that of the first campaign by the Orontes at Kadesh, which was celebrated with such true poetic licence in Pentaur’s epic song. Never, indeed, were the records of any sovereign’s life and victories so blazoned abroad as those of King Rameses; the walls of the temples in Egypt and in Nubia are covered with inscriptions, paintings, and sculptures belonging to this reign. One while we see him in what appears most inglorious warfare—trampling down a crowd of negroes, who are represented as pigmies, and over whom he is driving his chariot of war. Some have escaped, and are flying in hot haste towards their homes, represented by the little huts like bee-hives, such as are still common in Africa. A little child rushes forward to greet them, but the mother stands still, holding up her hands in an attitude of despair; a little farther off another negress is seen with a pot over the fire, which she is carefully watching that it may be ready for the returning soldier. She does not yet see the boy who is even at that moment running up to bring the fatal news. At another time the king is seen seated upon his throne in state receiving the negro tribute—giraffes, oxen, ostriches, and several monkeys appear in the drawing. Or he is receiving prisoners brought in by his generals, whilst Semem-kheftu-ef, the ‘Tearer to pieces of his enemies,’ is lying quietly at the foot of the throne.

On the walls of the colossal temple of Abu-simbel in Nubia, is a whole series of tableaux pertaining to the life of Rameses II. There is one striking bas-relief representing three of his sons following him in a headlong charge upon the battle-field. The three princes speed on, each in his chariot, side by side, and each of them is attended by a charioteer, who carries a large shield for their defence. But Rameses himself is alone, in the forefront. Not even a charioteer stands beside him. The reins are fastened round his waist, whilst he bends the bow firmly with his hands. Above his head flies the hawk, the bird of Ra, ensign of the protection of the god. In another bas-relief, he is pausing for a moment, and checking his steeds. Semem-kheftu-ef is running by his side like a dog.

These are only two illustrations out of the multitude carved with spirit and fidelity upon the interior of the great temple hewn in the sandstone rock at Abu-simbel, in Nubia, which, even in its present condition, excites a wonder that is akin to awe. In front of the entrance stand four colossal statues of the king seated on his throne, each of which is 66 feet in height. The face is grandly represented; a calm, haughty repose marks the features, and the placid, if not scornful, smile so characteristic of the king rests upon his lips—accustomed to speak in accents of command from early childhood and on to extreme old age. Close by is a smaller temple erected by queen Nefertari, the loved wife of his early manhood, in honour of her lord. Within its walls we may see family groups sculptured—the king in the prime of manhood, his beautiful young wife, and her children. An inscription tells us that—‘To the sovereign of the two lands, son of the Sun, lord of crowns, Rameses Meri-amen, his loving lady, queen, and princess Nefertari, has built a temple at Abu by the waters. Grant him life for evermore!’ In the great temple, Nefertari is only once depicted; here the children are grown up, and the sons follow their father to the battle. Rameses himself is older, the glow and ardour of early years have given way to the placidity and repose of later life, when his wars and his victories were over; for, though renowned as a conqueror, the greater part of his long reign passed by in peace. Nefertari herself does not seem to have lived long, and Rameses apparently was married two or three times; his last wife (so far as we can gather) was a foreign princess, whose hand was the pledge of lasting friendship and alliance between the two leading nations of the day.[52]

The proposal came from Khetasir, king of the Kheta. A tacit respect for each other seems to have prevented a renewal of the war which had opened with the battle of Kadesh, but Khetasir wished to go further. Between the two great and civilised nations lay the seething and restless masses of the Canaanitish tribes. Powerful kings had ruled ere this in Elam and in Mesopotamia, and might rule there again. No worse policy could be conceived than that of mutual rivalry and strife between Egypt and Kheta. An envoy brought to King Rameses a copy of the proposed treaty written on a silver tablet, and on its acceptance Khetasir himself came to Egypt and was received in all state by Rameses at the city of Zoan, where the treaty was duly ratified, and the King of Egypt received the hand of the Khetan princess in token of lasting amity and goodwill. ‘Peace and good brotherhood shall be between us for ever,’ so runs the treaty; ‘he shall be at peace with me and I with him for ever. The children’s children of the King of Kheta shall be in good brotherhood and peace with the children’s children of Rameses Meri-amen, the great ruler of Egypt. The King of Kheta shall not invade Egypt, nor the great ruler of Egypt invade Kheta, to carry away anything from it. If any enemy shall come against the land of Rameses he shall send to the ruler of Kheta, who shall help him to smite the enemy.’ All the gods of both countries are solemnly called upon to witness to this treaty, and to visit with dire penalties any infraction of its provisions. A further clause of ‘extradition’ is added, but it is humanely stipulated that any refugees given up in fulfilment of its demands shall not be punished with severity in any way. The treaty thus made was well and truly kept. The marriage of Rameses with the daughter of his ally is recorded in the rock-temple of Abu-simbel. ‘The Prince of Kheta, clad in the dress of his country, himself conducted the bride to his son-in-law. After the marriage had taken place the young wife, as queen, received the Egyptian name of Urma-Neferura.’ Not only did all hostilities cease henceforth between the two great empires, but a calm ensued throughout Syria, where the tribal kings could no longer look for support to their powerful neighbours. It seems as if Rameses quietly allowed his claims to supremacy in Mesopotamia to lapse; and the Phœnicians were not a warlike race, but, as a rule, were ready to acknowledge the supremacy of a stronger nation so long as they could pursue their commerce and gain wealth at their ease.

It is possible, then, that thirty or forty years of peace may have remained for King Rameses, and his time and energies were devoted to architectural, instead of warlike, achievements. He lived to be at least eighty years of age, and survived twelve of his sons, being succeeded by the thirteenth, Menephtah.

Behind the Libyan hills, which encircle the plain of Western Thebes, is a wild and desolate valley. At its entrance stood a beautiful temple, begun by Seti I. in memory of his father, and completed by Rameses. In the hills surrounding this lonely valley (called by the Arabs _Biban-el-Moluk_, Tombs of the Kings) were the burial-places of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties. In another and an equally dreary valley were the tombs of the queens and princesses of the royal house. Their fate has been a sad one, for the graves have been ruthlessly searched and the mummies torn to pieces in hopes of plunder, and when all of value had been taken, the dishonoured remains of the queens and princesses appear to have been replaced, without care or ceremony, in their rock-hewn tombs, and burned in heaps. The fire thus kindled has calcined the walls of the tombs and sorely damaged the paintings and inscriptions. A few only have escaped; amongst them is a very perfectly preserved portrait of Tai-ti, the beautiful wife of Amenhotep III.[53]

The care taken in inspecting, and from time to time removing, the bodies of the kings prevented such wholesale destruction; but little could Thothmes or Rameses have dreamt of the destiny that should befall them. Discovered at last in their final hiding-place, their mummies, together with others of earlier and later date, were conveyed down the sacred stream, and, by a strange irony of fate, are now exhibited amongst other curiosities in a museum.

FOOTNOTES:

[46] See on p. 162.

[47] Or Meri-en-Ptah, Seti’s crown name, meaning ‘Beloved of Ptah.’

[48] The Good Being, _i.e._ Osiris.

[49] The identification of the name is but doubtful.

[50] The ‘Divine Mother,’—worshipped at Thebes with Amen-Ra.

[51] Crown name, meaning ‘beloved of Amen.’

[52] For the substance of this and of the foregoing paragraphs, I have been much indebted to _Nile Gleanings_ and to its very interesting illustrations.

[53] See _Nile Gleanings_.