palaces in which their predecessors had lived and died. Each king
desired to possess a habitation after his own heart, one which would not
be haunted by the memory, or perchance the double, of another sovereign.
These royal mansions, hastily erected, hastily filled with occupants,
were vacated and fell into ruin with no less rapidity: they grew old
with their master, or even more rapidly than he, and his disappearance
almost always entailed their ruin. In the neighbourhood of Memphis many
of these palaces might be seen, which their short-lived masters had
built for eternity, an eternity which did not last longer than the lives
of their builders.*

Nothing could present a greater variety than the population of these
ephemeral cities in the climax of their splendour. We have first the
people who immediately surrounded the Pharaoh,** the retainers of
the palace and of the harem, whose highly complex degrees of rank are
revealed to us on the monuments.*** His person was, as it were, minutely
subdivided into departments, each requiring its attendants and their
appointed chiefs.

* The song of the harp-player on the tomb of King Antûf
contains an allusion to these ruined palaces: "The gods
[kings] who were of yore, and who repose in their tombs,
mummies and manes, all buried alike in their pyramids, when
castles are built they no longer have a place in them; see,
thus it is done with them! I have heard the poems in praise
of Imhotpû and of Hardidif which are sung in the songs, and
yet, see, where are their places to-day? their walls are
destroyed, their places no more, as though they have never
existed!"