Egypt was no exception to this general rule, and it is no coincidence that the goddesses Isis and Nephthys were strongly connected with both the rites of birth (acting as midwives) and death (divine mourners). As there was no Dynastic equivalent of our hospital system to remove the sick from their home environment, nursing became the duty of the women of the household. Under these intimate circumstances no member of the family could hope to avoid contact with the dying or recently dead and, indeed, most women would expect, throughout their lives, to assist at the deathbeds of close relations. Death was therefore neither an abstract nor a sanitized concept to the Egyptian woman. It was a simple fact of life, albeit one to be avoided as far as possible by the appropriate use of prayers, amulets and charms.
Rise up, O Teti. Seize your head and collect up your bones. Gather your limbs together and shake the dust from your flesh. Take your bread which will never rot and your beer that will never sour, and stand before the gateway that excludes the common people. The gatekeeper comes out to you. He takes you by the hand and leads you into heaven, into the presence of your father, Geb.
Speech from the Pyramid Texts of the Old Kingdom Pharaoh Teti
Although death was inevitable it was not necessarily final. Throughout the Dynastic period the Egyptians retained a firm belief in the possibility of life after death, a belief which had a deep influence upon the development of both art and architecture. This belief slowly evolved through time, so that the dying of the Archaic Period held a very different set of expectations from their Late Period descendants. During the Old Kingdom, it was widely accepted that only the king would be able to pass on to a new world outside the tomb, becoming himself a god and living with the other gods. He achieved his transformation by one of three main routes: by travelling with the sun god, Re, in his solar boat, by being reborn as an undying or circumpolar star, or by becoming identified with Osiris, the god of the dead. The spirits of less exalted Egyptians could also continue to exist after death, but they were forced to dwell in close proximity to the body interred in its tomb or grave – a belief which led the upper classes to build the largest and most comfortable tombs possible. After all, no one would wish to live for all eternity confined to an uncomfortably cramped and dirty pit-grave.
Gradually, following the collapse of central authority at the end of the Old Kingdom, many of the hitherto exclusively royal religious prerogatives were taken over by the ordinary people. As a result, survival in the next world for everyone during the Middle Kingdom depended on the identification of the deceased, male and female alike, with the dead Osiris. Now everyone was eligible to become a subject in the Netherworld, the kingdom of Osiris which was a direct counterpart to the living world ruled by the pharaoh, the living Horus. This rather restricted image of heaven slowly expanded to become the New Kingdom Afterlife, the ‘Field of Reeds’ or the ‘Field of Offerings’; a land of pleasure and plenty again ruled by Osiris. This Afterlife was an almost exact replica of earthly rural life but was much, much better. Here the crops grew taller, the cattle grew fatter and the fish in the river simply begged to be caught. The residents were all young, fit and attractive as, dressed in clean white linen and adorned with sparkling jewels, they enjoyed mouthwatering meals in a land where beer and wine flowed like Nile water. Life in the Field of Reeds was clearly very desirable. Unfortunately, admission to these delights was not automatic, nor could it be secured by living a virtuous or devout earthly life. Entrance to the Afterlife was by examination only, and there was a strict pass or fail system. Those who flunked got no second chance.
‘I will not let you enter through me,’ says the jamb of the door, ‘unless you tell me my name.’
‘Plumb-bob in the Place of Truth is your name.’
Extract from the New Kingdom Book of the Dead
After death the spirit of the deceased embarked upon a long and fantastic journey, voyaging through a surreal maze of halls, chambers and gates where he or she was repeatedly challenged by a series of intricate questions posed by either the gatekeepers or, more bizarrely, by the gates themselves. Those who safely negotiated this labyrinth entered before a tribunal of the gods where a strict viva voce examination allowed the traveller to make a series of formal speeches justifying his or her life: ‘I have given bread to the hungry and water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked and a boat to those who have no boat.’ As a final test the heart of the deceased was weighed in a balance against the feather which symbolized maat, in order that the gods might determine whether or not he or she was true of heart. Only those who triumphed over all these hazards could pass on to perpetual life in the Field of Reeds. Those who were found wanting were doomed to die a second, frightening and permanent, death.