Hitherto we have been on the eastern bank: we now pass to the western. Here we find an historical museum, unequalled by anything of the kind to be seen elsewhere, in variety of interest, and in completeness. Nothing in the world, except the Pyramid region, approaches to it. There the old primæval monarchy lies entombed; here, in the western quarter of the capital of the younger monarchy, and which has now appropriated to itself the name of Thebes, we have the catacombs of the kings, the tombs of the queens, the tombs of the priests, of the official class, and of private persons; the wonderful temple-palace of Medinet Haboo; the Memnonium, or rather Rameseum, again, temple and palace; the old but well-preserved Temple-palace of Cornéh, together with the remains of several temples; the vocal Memnon, and its twin Colossus. These form a gallery of historical objects, and of records of the arts, of the manners and customs, and of the daily life of one of the grandest epochs of Egypt. How can a few indications and touches convey to those who have not seen them, any true or useful conception of the objects themselves, or of the thoughts they give rise to in the mind of the traveller who stands before them, and allows them to interpret to him the mind of those old times? They are contemporary records in which he sees written, with accompanying illustrations, chapter after chapter of old world history, anterior to the days of Rome, Greece, and Israel.

The tomb of the great Sethos, Joseph’s Pharaoh, of his greater son, Rameses II., and of Menophres, in whose reign the Exodus took place, are all here. The tomb of Sethos reaches back 470 feet into the limestone Mountain, with a descent of 180 feet. Coloured sculptures cover 320 feet of the excavation. The exact point to which the sculptures had been carried on the day of his death, is indicated by the unfinished condition of the work in the last chamber. The walls had been prepared for the chisel of the sculptor, but the death of the king interrupted the work. The draughtsman had sketched upon them, in red colour, the designs that were to be executed. His sketch had been revised by a superintendent of such works, who had corrected the red outlines with black ink, wherever they appeared to him out of proportion, or in any way defective. The freedom and decision with which the outlines were drawn exceed probably the power of any modern artist’s or designer’s hand. These sketches are quite as fresh as they were the day they were made. You see them just as they were outlined, and corrected for the sculptor, more than 3,000 years ago. It would be worth while going to Egypt to see them, if they were the only sight in Egypt.

In this, and several others among the royal tombs, we find symbolical representations of the human race. The Egyptians, the people of the North, of the East, and of the South, are indicated by typical figures. This is meant to convey the idea that Pharaoh was virtually the universal monarch. If he had not felt this, Karnak would never have been built, nor, I will add, for the sake of the contrast, as well as the concatenation, would a humble East Anglian Vicar have spent last winter on the Nile.

The sculptures in these tombs may be divided under three heads. First, there are those which describe events in the life of the occupant of the tomb. Then there are scenes from common daily Egyptian life, in which he took such interest as to desire to have representations of them in his tomb. Lastly, there are scenes which illustrate what was supposed would occur in the future life of the deceased.

In the tomb which bears the name of Rameses III., there are several chambers right and left of the main gallery, in each of which is represented, on the walls, some department of the royal establishment. The king’s kitchen, the king’s boats, his armoury, his musical instruments, the operations carried on upon his farms, the birds, and the fruits of Egypt, and the sacred emblems; the three last symbolizing fowling, gardening, and religion. It is possible that the king may have buried here those of his household who presided over these departments; each in the chamber designated for him by the representations, on the walls, of what belonged to his office. If it were not so, of what use were the chambers? they could hardly have been excavated merely to place such pictures upon them.

As this Rameses III. was one of the warlike Pharaohs, and had, like his great namesake, led successfully large armies into Asia, we cannot suppose that he had these scenes of home-life sculptured and painted in his tomb, either because he had nothing else to put there, or because the subjects they referred to were more congenial to his tastes than the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. He must, therefore, as far as we can see, either have been acting under the motive just mentioned, which, however, I cannot regard as a perfectly satisfactory suggestion; or he must have been influenced by some thought of what he would require in the intermediate state while lying in the tomb. Was there an idea that the mummy would, for a time, take delight in contemplating those scenes and objects, the fruition of which had contributed to its happiness during the earthly life?

What we see in the tombs of the priests and officials almost leads us to the conclusion that these representations had not, necessarily, a direct and special reference to what had once been the occupations of the inmates of the tomb, but were placed on the walls merely as pictures, precisely as we hang upon the walls of our houses such pictures as please us. There was nothing in the aspects of the country which could have led the old Egyptians to wish to depict scenery. There were no charming bits of Nature, no world of changeful cloud-scapes, no suggestive winter, spring, or summer scenes. Nor, again, was the turn of their minds dramatic, or such as might have led them to desire to reproduce in pictures those human scenes which would recall the workings of passion or the poetry of life; and, indeed, their style of art would hardly have enabled them to deal with such subjects. They thus appear to have been confined to hard literal matter of fact representations of the arts of ordinary life, of Egyptian objects, of funeral processions, and of what, according to their ideas, would take place in the next world. With these they decorated their walls. It was Hobson’s choice. They had nothing else for the purpose. They may have had a special inducement to represent the common arts of life, such as cabinet-making, glass-blowing, weaving, pottery, etc., because they took a very intelligible pride in contemplating their superiority to the rest of the world in these matters, which, at that time, when an acquaintance with them was regarded as a distinction, were thought much more of than was the case afterwards, when all the world had attained to proficiency in them.

That these kinds of representations were sometimes looked upon merely as ornamental, or as such as any deceased Egyptian might contemplate, while in the mummy state, with satisfaction, may be inferred from the fact, that it eventually became a common practice for an Egyptian to purchase, or to take possession of a tomb that had been sculptured and painted for others, and even used by them, with the intention of having it prepared for himself: though, probably, this would not have been done in the early period of Egyptianism, when it was proud and pure. He merely erased the name of the original occupant, and substituted for it his own. He did not feel that there was anything to render the pictures that had been designed by, and for, another, inappropriate to himself. We know, too, that the pictures were often those of trades it was impossible the deceased could have practised; still they were pictures of Egyptian life it would be pleasing to contemplate. We had rather contemplate an historical picture, a tableau de genre, or a landscape, but as they had no idea of such things, and as civilization was then young, and the simplest trade was regarded with pleasure for its utility, and as a proof of what is called progress, everybody was at that time of day pleased with its representation. Though we have entirely lost this feeling, I believe uneducated people would still, at the present day prefer, because it would be more intelligible to them, a picture representing the work of some trade to a landscape, or historical piece. Of course the delight an Egyptian felt in such representations did not in the least arise from his being uneducated, but from a difference in his way of thinking and feeling; and in a difference in what art could then achieve. In short, these representations were meant either for the living, or for the dead. In either case, to give pleasure, either to the beholder, or to the supposed beholder, must have been their object.

The valley, which contains the tombs of which I have been speaking, was devoted to the sepulture of the kings of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties. The greater part of them were found open, and had, in the times of the Ptolemies, been already rifled. Their desecration, and the injuries they received, ought probably to be attributed to the Persians. I have already said something about the extent and the sculptures of the catacomb of Sethos. The chamber, containing the sarcophagus of this great Pharaoh, had been so carefully concealed, that it fortunately escaped discovery down to our own time. Belzoni, in his investigation of this tomb, finding that a spot which a happy inspiration led him to strike, returned a hollow sound, had the trunk of a palm-tree brought into the gallery, and using it as a ram, battered down the disguised wall. This, at once revealed the chamber which, for more than four thousand years, had escaped Persian, Greek, Roman, and Arab intrusion. In the midst of this chamber stood the royal sarcophagus. This sarcophagus, one of the most splendid monuments of Egypt in its best days, was of the finest alabaster, covered with the most beautiful and instructive sculptures. Who can adequately imagine the emotions of Belzoni at that moment? It had been reserved for him to be the first to behold, to be the discoverer, of what had escaped the keen search of so many races of spoilers and destroyers, the finest monument of the greatest period of Egyptian history. That monument is now in Sir John Soane’s Museum, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

In the valley to the west of this are some of the tombs of the preceding, the eighteenth, dynasty, that which drove the Hyksos out of Egypt. They have, however, been so dilapidated that not much is to be learnt from them.

Behind the great temple-palace of Medinet Haboo are the tombs of the queens and princesses. These, too, have been much injured; and have, at some period, subsequent to that of their original appropriation, been used for the sepulture of private persons.

Along the foot of the hills, from the tombs of the queens to the entrance of the Valley of the Kings, is one vast Necropolis for the priests, the official class, and wealthy private individuals. All these fall within the New Empire. Among them, however, are found some instances of royal interments, but they belong to the Old Empire. When we talk of the New Empire we must not forget its date: its palmiest days belong to the time of the Exodus and of Abraham’s visit to Egypt.

As I rode through this city of the dead, visiting the tombs which possessed the greatest interest, I endeavoured, as I had done in the Necropolis of the Pyramids, to recall its pristine state; to see it as it was seen by those who constructed and peopled it. The tombs were then everywhere along the Háger, that is, on the first rise or stage of the desert, above the cultivated land. Here, as generally throughout Egypt, vegetable life, and the soil which supports it, do not extend one inch beyond the height of the inundation, which brings the soil as well as the water. The stony desert, and the plant-clothed plain touch with sharp definition, each maintaining its own character to the last, just as the land and sea do along the beach. From this line of contact to the precipitous rise of the hills there is a belt of irregular ground. In some places this belt is a rocky level or incline, in others it is broken into rocky valleys, but always above the cultivated plain. The whole of it is thoroughly desert, and all of it ascends towards the contiguous range. It is everywhere limestone, and generally covered with débris from the excavations, and from the hill-side. Such is the site of this great Necropolis.

In the days when Thebes was the capital, the whole of this space was covered with the entrances to the tombs. Some of these entrances were actual temples. Some resembled the propylons of temples. Some were gateways, less massive and lofty, but still conspicuous objects. In every tomb were its mummied inmates. They were surrounded by representations in stone, and colour, of the objects and scenes they had delighted in during life. Their property, their pursuits, what they had thought and felt, what they had taken an interest in, and what they had believed, were all around them. Objects of Nature, objects of art, objects of thought, had each assumed its form in stone. Each was there for the mummy to contemplate. These were true houses for the dead. Houses built, decorated, and furnished for the dead. In which, however, the dead were not dead; but were living in the mummied state. We have rock-tombs elsewhere; but where, out of Egypt, could we find another such city? It is a city excavated in the rocky plain, and in the mountain valleys. It consists of thousands of apartments, spacious halls, long galleries, steps ascending and descending, and chambers innumerable. It is more extensive, more costly, more decorated, than many a famous city on which the sun shines. It is peopled everywhere with its own inhabitants; but among them is no fear, or hope—no love or hatred—no pleasure or pain—no heart is beating—no brain is busy.

As we wander about these mansions of the dead we feel as Zobeide did when she found herself in the spell-bound city. The inhabitants are present. Everything they used in life is present. Life itself only is wanting. Everything has become stone.

The largest of the tombs now accessible is that of Petamenap, a Royal Scribe. It is entered by a sunken court, 103 feet in length by 76. This was once surrounded by a wall, in which was a lofty gateway, the two sides of which are still standing. This court leads to a large hall, which is the commencement of a long series of galleries, apartments, and side chambers—all excavated in the solid rock. Omitting the side chambers, and measuring only the galleries and apartments they passed through, the excavations of this single tomb extend to a length of 862 feet. The area excavated amounts to nearly 24,000 square feet, or an acre and a quarter. These are Sir Gardiner Wilkinson’s measurements, which have been accepted by Lepsius, who also himself carefully inspected the tomb. The whole of the wall-space gained by these excavations, which are actually more than one-third of a mile in length, is covered throughout with most carefully-executed sculptures, in the most elaborate style of Egyptian art. It is worth noticing that this tomb of a private individual exceeds in dimensions, costliness, and magnificence all the royal tombs—of course, excepting the Great Pyramids—with which we are acquainted.

We may infer, from the costliness of these tombs, and from the length of time it must have taken to excavate and adorn them, that the Egypt of the time to which they belong, was a wisely-ordered kingdom, in which, to a very considerable extent, not the arbitrary caprice of kings and governors, but law was supreme. At that time the scene of such a history as that of Naboth could not have been in Egypt. It must for long ages have been, in the very important matter of a man’s doing what he pleased with his own, in a very unoriental condition. This tomb of Petamenap, and thousands of others, more or less like it, could only have been constructed where, and when, subjects may acquire great wealth, and display it with safety.

We may also infer, from the size of the city under the new monarchy, and the wealth of its inhabitants, from their mode of living, their tastes and pursuits, and from the state of the arts which ministered to the convenience and adornment of their lives—upon all of which points this Necropolis gives inexhaustible, and absolutely truthful evidence; that a great part of the wealth of Thebes was drawn from precisely the same source as that of Belgravia—that is, from the rent of the land.

An abundance of minor matters, but full of historical interest and instruction, may be gleaned from the same source. We find, for instance, that 3,350 years ago the principle and the use of the arch were familiar to the Egyptians; for there are several arches of that date in the tombs. Glass-blowing was practised. The syphon was understood, and used. In their entertainments the presence of both sexes was usual; and perfumes and flowers were on these occasions regarded as indispensable. The shadoof, the simplest and most effective application of a small amount of power to produce a considerable result, was as universally at work on the banks of the river, and of the canals, as at the present day; indeed, we cannot doubt but that it was much more so. But it is unnecessary to add here to these particulars.