forces and elephants in these countries, and having made the monarchs in al these places his
subjects, he crossed the Euphrates, and having brought under him Mesopotamia and
Babylonia and Susiana and Persis and Media, and al the rest as far as Bactriana ... he sent
forces through the canals——" (Here the text breaks off.)
Later in this dynasty Ptolemy VII. was crowned King of Syria, but the kingdom did not
remain long in his power. Then came the Romans, and for many years Syria and Egypt were
sister provinces of one empire.
There is no necessity to record the close connection between the two countries in Arabic
times. For a large part of that era Egypt and Syria formed part of the same empire; and we
constantly find Egyptians fighting in Asia. Now, under Edh Dhahir Bebars of the Baharide
Mameluke Dynasty, we see them helping to subject Syria and Armenia; now, under El-
Mansur Kalaun, Damascus is captured; and now En Nasir Muhammed is found reigning from
Tunis to Baghdad. In the Circassian Mameluke Dynasty we see El Muayyad crushing a revolt
in Syria, and El Ashraf Bursbey capturing King John of Cyprus and keeping his hand on
Syria. And so the tale continues, until, as a final picture, we see Ibrahim Pasha leading the
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Egyptians into Asia and crushing the Turks at Iconium.
Such is the long list of the wars waged by Egypt in Syria. Are we to suppose that these [44]
continuous incursions into Asia have suddenly come to an end? Are we to imagine that
because there has been a respite for a hundred years the precedent of six thousand years has
now to be disregarded? By the recent reconquest of the Sudan it has been shown that the old
political necessities stil exist for Egypt in the south, impeling her to be mistress of the upper
reaches of the Nile. Is there now no longer any chance of her expanding in other directions
should her hands become free?
The reader may answer with the argument that in early days England made invasion after
invasion into France, yet ceased after a while to do so. But this is no paralel. England was
impeled to war with France because the English monarchs believed themselves to be, by
inheritance, kings of a large part of France; and when they ceased to believe this they ceased
to make war. The Pharaohs of Egypt never considered themselves to be kings of Syria, and
never used any title suggesting an inherited sovereignty. They merely held Syria as a buffer
state, and claimed no more than an overlordship there. Now Syria is stil a buffer state, and
the root of the trouble, therefore, stil exists. Though I must disclaim al knowledge of modern
politics, I am quite sure that it is no meaningless phrase to say that England wil most carefuly
hold this tendency in check prevent an incursion into Syria; but, with a strong controling hand
relaxed, it would require more than human strength to eradicate an Egyptian tendency—nay, a [45]
habit, of six thousand years' standing. Try as she might, Egypt, as far as an historian can see,
would not be able to prevent herself passing ultimately into Syria again. How or when this
would take place an Egyptologist cannot see, for he is accustomed to deal in long periods of
time, and to consider the centuries as others might the decades. It might not come for a
hundred years or more: it might come suddenly quite by accident.
In 1907 there was a brief moment when Egypt appeared to be, quite unknowingly, on the
verge of an attempted reconquest of her lost province. There was a misunderstanding with
Turkey regarding the delineation of the Syrio-Sinaitic frontier; and, immediately, the Egyptian
Government took strong action and insisted that the question should be settled. Had there
been bloodshed the seat of hostilities would have been Syria; and supposing that Egypt had
been victorious, she would have pushed the opposing forces over the North Syrian frontier
into Asia Minor, and when peace was declared she would have found herself dictating terms
from a point of vantage three hundred miles north of Jerusalem. Can it be supposed that she
would then have desired to abandon the reconquered territory?
However, matters were settled satisfactorily with the Porte, and the Egyptian Government,
which had never realised this trend of events, and had absolutely no designs upon Syria, gave
no further consideration to Asiatic affairs. In the eyes of the modern onlookers the whole [46]
matter had developed from a series of chances; but in the view of the historian the moment of
its occurrence was the only chance about it, the fact of its occurrence being inevitable
according to the time-proven rules of history. The phrase "England in Egypt" has been given
such prominence of late that a far more important phrase, "Egypt in Asia," has been
overlooked. Yet, whereas the former is a catch-word of barely thirty years' standing, the latter
has been familiar at the east end of the Mediterranean for forty momentous centuries at the
lowest computation, and rings in the ears of the Egyptologist al through the ages. I need thus
no justification for recaling it in these pages.
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Now let us glance at Egypt's north-western frontier. Behind the deserts which spread to the
west of the Delta lies the oasis of Siwa; and from here there is a continuous line of
communication with Tripoli and Tunis. Thus, during the present winter (1910-11), the
outbreak of cholera at Tripoli has necessitated the despatch of quarantine officials to the oasis
in order to prevent the spread of the disease into Egypt. Now, of late years we have heard
much talk regarding the Senussi fraternity, a Muhammedan sect which is said to be prepared
to declare a holy war and to descend upon Egypt. In 1909 the Egyptian Mamur of Siwa was
murdered, and it was freely stated that this act of violence was the beginning of the trouble. I [47]
have no idea as to the real extent of the danger, nor do I know whether this bogie of the west,
which is beginning to cause such anxiety in Egypt in certain classes, is but a creation of the
imagination; but it wil be interesting to notice the frequent occurrence of hostilities in this
direction, since the history of Egypt's gateways is surely a study meet for her guardians.
When the curtain first rises upon archaic times, we find those far-off Pharaohs struggling with
the Libyans who had penetrated into the Delta from Tripoli and elsewhere. In early dynastic
history they are the chief enemies of the Egyptians, and great armies have to be levied to drive
them back through Siwa to their homes. Again in Dynasty XII., Amenemhat I. had to
despatch his son to drive these people out of Egypt; and at the beginning of Dynasty XVIII.,
Amenhotep I. was obliged once more to give them battle. Seti I. of Dynasty XIX. made war
upon them, and repulsed their invasion into Egypt. Rameses II. had to face an aliance of
Libyans, Lycians, and others, in the western Delta. His son Merenptah waged a most
desperate war with them in order to defend Egypt against their incursions, a war which has
been described as the most perilous in Egyptian history; and it was only after a battle in which
nine thousand of the enemy were slain that the war came to an end. Rameses III., however,
was again confronted with these persistent invaders, and only succeeded in checking them [48]
temporarily. Presently the tables were turned, and Dynasty XXII., which reigned so gloriously
in Egypt, was Libyan in origin. No attempt was made thenceforth for many years to check the
peaceful entrance of Libyans into Egypt, and soon that nation held a large part of the Delta.
Occasional mention is made of troubles upon the north-west frontier, but little more is heard
of any serious invasions. In Arabic times disturbances are not infrequent, and certain
sovereigns, as for example, El Mansur Kalaun, were obliged to invade the enemy's country,
thus extending Egypt's power as far as Tunis.
There is one lesson which may be learnt from the above facts—namely, that this frontier is
somewhat exposed, and that incursions from North Africa by way of Siwa are historic
possibilities. If the Senussi invasion of Egypt is ever attempted it wil not, at any rate, be
without precedent.
When England entered Egypt in 1882 she found a nation without external interests, a country
too impoverished and weak to think of aught else but its own sad condition. The reviving of
this much-bled, anæmic people, and the reorganisation of the Government, occupied the
whole attention of the Anglo-Egyptian officials, and placed Egypt before their eyes in only this
one aspect. Egypt appeared to be but the Nile Valey and the Delta; and, in truth, that was,
and stil is, quite as much as the hard-worked officials could wel administer. The one task of [49]
the regeneration of Egypt was al absorbing, and the country came to be regarded as a little
land wherein a concise, clearly-defined, and compact problem could be worked out.
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[Photo by E. Brugsch Pasha.
The mummy of Sety I. of Dynasty XIX.—CAIRO MUSEUM.
PL. V.
Now, while this was most certainly the correct manner in which to face the question, and
while Egypt has benefited enormously by this singleness of purpose in her officials, it was,
historicaly, a false attitude. Egypt is not a little country: Egypt is a crippled Empire.
Throughout her history she has been the powerful rival of the people of Asia Minor. At one
time she was mistress of the Sudan, Somaliland, Palestine, Syria, Libya, and Cyprus; and the
Sicilians, Sardinians, Cretans, and even Greeks, stood in fear of the Pharaoh. In Arabic times
she held Tunis and Tripoli, and even in the last century she was the foremost Power at the east
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end of the Mediterranean. Napoleon when he came to Egypt realised this very thoroughly,
and openly aimed to make her once more a mighty empire. But in 1882 such fine dreams
were not to be considered: there was too much work to be done in the Nile Valey itself. The
Egyptian Empire was forgotten, and Egypt was regarded as permanently a little country. The
conditions which we found here we took to be permanent conditions. They were not. We
arrived when the country was in a most unnatural state as regards its foreign relations; and we
were obliged to regard that state as chronic. This, though wise, was absolutely incorrect. [50]
Egypt in the past never has been for more than a short period a single country; and al history
goes to show that she wil not always be single in the future.
With the temporary loss of the Syrian province Egypt's need for a navy ceased to exist; and
the fact that she is realy a naval power has now passed from men's memory. Yet it was not
much more than a century ago that Muhammed Ali fought a great naval battle with the Turks,
and utterly defeated them. In ancient history the Egyptian navy was the terror of the
Mediterranean, and her ships policed the east coast of Africa. In prehistoric times the Nile
boats were built, it would seem, upon a seafaring plan: a fact that has led some scholars to
suppose that the land was entered and colonised from across the waters. We talk of
Englishmen as being born to the sea, as having a natural and inherited tendency towards
"business upon great waters"; and yet the English navy dates from the days of Queen
Elizabeth. It is true that the Plantagenet wars with France checked what was perhaps already
a nautical bias, and that had it not been for the Norman conquest, England, perchance would
have become a sea power at an earlier date. But at best the tendency is only a thousand years
old. In Egypt it is seven or eight thousand years old at the lowest computation. It makes one
smile to think of Egypt as a naval power. It is the business of the historian to refrain from [51]
smiling, and to remark only that, absurd as it may sound, Egypt's future is largely upon the
water as her past has been. It must be remembered that she was fighting great battles in huge
warships three or four hundred feet in length at a time when Britons were paddling about in
canoes.
One of the ships built by the Pharaoh Ptolemy Philopator was four hundred and twenty feet
long, and had several banks of oars. It was rowed by four thousand sailors, while four
hundred others managed the sails. Three thousand soldiers were also carried upon its decks.
The royal dahabiyeh which this Pharaoh used upon the Nile was three hundred and thirty feet
long, and was fitted with state rooms and private rooms of considerable size. Another vessel
contained, besides the ordinary cabins, large bath-rooms, a library, and an astronomical
observatory. It had eight towers, in which there were machines capable of hurling stones
weighing three hundred pounds or more, and arrows eighteen feet in length. These huge
vessels were built some two centuries before Cæsar landed in Britain.[1]
[1] Athenæus, v. 8.
In conclusion, then, it must be repeated that the present Nile-centred policy in Egypt, though
infinitely best for the country at this juncture, is an artificial one, unnatural to the nation except
as a passing phase; and what may be caled the Imperial policy is absolutely certain to take its [52]
place in time, although the Anglo-Egyptian Government, so long as it exists, wil do al in its
power to check it. History tels us over and over again that Syria is the natural dependant of
Egypt, fought for or bargained for with the neighbouring countries to the north; that the Sudan
is likewise a natural vassal which from time to time revolts and has to be reconquered; and
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that Egypt's most exposed frontier lies on the north-west. In conquering the Sudan at the end
of the nineteenth century the Egyptians were but fulfiling their destiny: it was a mere accident
that their arms were directed against a Mahdi. In discussing seriously the situation in the
western oases, they are working upon the precise rules laid down by history. And if their
attention is not turned in the far future to Syria, they wil be defying rules even more precise,
and, in the opinion of those who have the whole course of Egyptian history spread before
them, wil but be kicking against the pricks. Here surely we have an example of the value of
the study of a nation's history, which is not more nor less than a study of its political
tendencies.
Speaking of the relationship of history to politics, Sir J. Seeley wrote: "I tel you that when you
study English history, you study not the past of England only but her future. It is the welfare of
your country, it is your whole interest as citizens, that is in question when you study history."
These words hold good when we deal with Egyptian history, and it is our business to learn the [53]
political lessons which the Egyptologist can teach us, rather than to listen to his dissertations
upon scarabs and blue glaze. Like the astronomers of old, the Egyptologist studies, as it were,
the stars, and reads the future in them; but it is not the fashion for kings to wait upon his
pronouncements any more! Indeed he reckons in such very long periods of time, and makes
startling statements about events which probably wil not occur for very many years to come,
that the statesman, intent upon his task, has some reason to declare that the study of past ages
does not assist him to deal with urgent affairs. Nevertheless, in al seriousness, the
Egyptologist's study is to be considered as but another aspect of statecraft, and he fails in his
labours if he does not make this his point of view.
In his arrogant manner the Egyptologist wil remark that modern politics are of too fleeting a
nature to interest him. In answer, I would tel him that if he sits studying his papyri and his
mummies without regard for the fact that he is dealing with a nation stil alive, stil contributing
its strength to spin the wheel of the world around, then are his labours worthless and his brains
misused. I would tel him that if his work is paid for, then is he a robber if he gives no return in
information which wil be of practical service to Egypt in some way or another. The Egyptian
Government spends enormous sums each year upon the preservation of the magnificent relics [54]
of bygone ages—relics for which, I regret to say, the Egyptians themselves care extremely
little. Is this money spent, then, to amuse the tourist in the land, or simply to fulfil obligations to
ethical susceptibilities? No; there is but one justification for this very necessary expenditure of
public money—namely, that these relics are regarded, so to speak, as the school-books of
the nation, which range over a series of subjects from pottery-making to politics, from stone-
cutting to statecraft. The future of Egypt may be read upon the wals of her ancient temples
and tombs. Let the Egyptologist never forget, in the interest and excitement of his discoveries,
what is the real object of his work.
[TABLE OF CONTENTS]
CHAPTER III.
[55]
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THE NECESSITY OF ARCHÆOLOGY TO THE GAIETY OF
THE WORLD.
When a great man puts a period to his existence upon earth by dying, he is carefuly buried in
a tomb, and a monument is set up to his glory in the neighbouring church. He may then be said
to begin his second life, his life in the memory of the chronicler and historian. After the lapse of
an æon or two the works of the historian, and perchance the tomb itself, are rediscovered;
and the great man begins his third life, now as a subject of discussion and controversy
amongst archæologists in the pages of a scientific journal. It may be supposed that the spirit of
the great man, not a little pleased with its second life, has an extreme distaste for his third.
There is a dead atmosphere about it which sets him yawning as only his grave yawned before.
The charm has been taken from his deeds; there is no longer any spring in them. He must feel
towards the archæologist much as a young man feels towards his cold-blooded parent by
whom his love affair has just been found out. The public, too, if by chance it comes upon this [56]
archæological journal, finds the discussion nothing more than a mental gymnastic, which, as
the reader drops off to sleep, gives him the impression that the writer is a man of profound
brain capacity, but, like the remains of the great man of olden times, as dry as dust.
There is one thing, however, which has been overlooked. This scientific journal does not
contain the ultimate results of the archæologist's researches. It contains the researches
themselves. The public, so to speak, has been listening to the pianist playing his morning
scales, has been watching the artist mixing his colours, has been examining the unshaped block
of marble and the chisels in the sculptor's studio. It must be confessed, of course, that the
archæologist has so enjoyed his researches that often the ultimate result has been overlooked
by him. In the case of Egyptian archæology, for example, there are only two Egyptologists
who have ever set themselves to write a readable history,[1] whereas the number of books
which record the facts of the science is legion.
[1] Professor J.H. Breasted and Sir Gaston Maspero.
The archæologist not infrequently lives, for a large part of his time, in a museum, a somewhat
dismal place. He is surrounded by rotting tapestries, decaying bones, crumbling stones, and
rusted or corroded objects. His indoor work has paled his cheek, and his muscles are not like
iron bands. He stands, often, in the contiguity to an ancient broadsword most fitted to [57]
demonstrate the fact that he could never use it. He would probably be dismissed his
curatorship were he to tel of any dreams which might run in his head—dreams of the time
when those tapestries hung upon the wals of barons' banquet-hals, or when those stones rose
high above the streets of Camelot.
Moreover, those who make researches independently must needs contribute their results to
scientific journals, written in the jargon of the learned. I came across a now forgotten journal,
a short time ago, in which an English gentleman, believing that he had made a discovery in the
province of Egyptian hieroglyphs, announced it in ancient Greek. There would be no supply of
such pedantic swagger were there not a demand for it.
Smal wonder, then, that the archæologist is often represented as partaking somewhat of the
quality of the dust amidst which he works. It is not necessary here to discuss whether this
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estimate is just or not: I wish only to point out its paradoxical nature.
More than any other science, archæology might be expected to supply its exponents with stuff
that, like old wine, would fire the blood and stimulate the senses. The stirring events of the
Past must often be reconstructed by the archæologist with such precision that his prejudices
are aroused, and his sympathies are so enlisted as to set him fighting with a wil under this
banner or under that. The noise of the hardy strife of young nations is not yet silenced for him, [58]
nor have the flags and the pennants faded from sight. He has knowledge of the state secrets of
kings, and, al along the line, is an intimate spectator of the crowded pageant of history. The
caravan-masters of the elder days, the admirals of the "great green sea" the captains of
archers, have related their adventures to him; and he might repeat to you their stories. Indeed,
he has such a tale to tel that, looking at it in this light, one might expect his listeners al to be
good fighting men and noble women. It might be supposed that the archæologist would gather
around him only men who have pleasure in the road that leads over the hils, and women who
have known the delight of the open. One has heard so often of the "brave days of old" that the
archæologist might wel be expected to have his head stuffed with brave tales and little else.
His range, however, may be wider than this. To him, perhaps, it has been given to listen to the
voice of the ancient poet, heard as a far-off whisper; to breathe in forgotten gardens the
perfume of long dead flowers; to contemplate the love of women whose beauty is al perished
in the dust; to hearken to the sound of the harp and the sistra, to be the possessor of the
riches of historical romance. Dim armies have battled around him for the love of Helen;
shadowy captains of sea-going ships have sung to him through the storm the song of the
sweethearts left behind them; he has feasted with sultans, and kings' goblets have been held to [59]
his lips; he has watched Uriah the Hittite sent to the forefront of the battle.
Thus, were he to offer a story, one might now suppose that there would gather around him,
not the men of muscle, but a throng of salow listeners, as improperly expectant as were those
who hearkened under the moon to the narrations of Boccaccio, or, in old Baghdad, gave ear
to the tales of the thousand and one nights. One might suppose that his audience would be
drawn from those classes most fondly addicted to pleasure, or most nearly representative, in
their land and in their time, of the light-hearted and not unwanton races of whom he had to tel.
For his story might be expected to be one wherein wine and women and song found
countenance. Even were he to tel of ancient tragedies and old sorrows, he would stil make
his appeal, one might suppose, to galants and their mistresses, to sporting men and women of
fashion, just as, in the mournful song of Rosabele, Sir Walter Scott is able to address himself
to the "ladies gay," or Coleridge in his sad "Balad of the Dark Ladie" to "fair maids."
Who could better arrest the attention of the coxcomb than the archæologist who has
knowledge of silks and scents now lost to the living world? To the gourmet who could more
appeal than the archæologist who has made abundant acquaintance with the forgotten dishes
of the East? Who could so surely thril the senses of the courtesan than the archæologist who [60]
can relate that which was whispe