Abundant tears flowed from the prince’s eyes. With thosetears he bade farewell to his youth; he greeted power, to which his soul had turned for years with uncertainty and longing.
“I am now weak and wearied,” said the ruler, “and were it not for anxiety touching thy youth and the future of Egypt, I would this day beg my deathless ancestors to call me to their glory. Each day is for me more difficult, and therefore, Rameses, thou wilt begin to share the burden of rule with me. As a hen teaches her chicks to search out grains of corn and hide before the hawk, so I will teach thee that toilsome art of ruling a state and watching the devices of enemies. May thou fall on them in time, like an eagle on timid partridges.”
The pharaoh’s barge and its well-ordered retinue had descended to a point opposite the palace. The wearied ruler took a seat in his litter, and at that moment Herhor approached Rameses.
“Permit me, worthy prince,” said he, “to be the earliest among those who are delighted with thy elevation. May thou lead the army with as much success as thou shalt govern the most important part of the state to the glory of Egypt.”
Rameses pressed his hand firmly.
“Didst thou do this, O Herhor?” asked he.
“It belonged to thee,” replied the minister.
“Thou hast my gratitude, and wilt see that it is of value.”
“Thou hast rewarded me already in speaking thus,” replied Herhor.
The prince wished to depart; Herhor detained him.
“A brief word. Be careful, O heir, that one of thy women, Sarah, does not sing religious hymns.”
When Rameses looked at him with astonishment, he added,—
“During our sail on the Nile that maiden sang our most sacred hymn, a hymn to which only the pharaoh and high priests have the right to listen. Poor child! she might have suffered for her skill and for her ignorance of what she was singing.”
“Then has she committed sacrilege?” inquired Rameses, in confusion.
“Yes, unconsciously,” answered Herhor. “It is lucky that I was the only man who understood it, and my decision is thatbetween that song and our hymn the resemblance is remote. In every case let her never repeat it.”
“Well, and should she purify herself?” asked the prince. “Will it suffice her, as a foreign woman, if she gives thirty cows to the temple of Isis?”
“Yes, let her give them,” replied Herhor, with a slight grimace. “The gods are not offended by gifts.”
“Do thou, noble lord,” said Rameses, “be pleased to accept this miraculous shield, which I received from my sacred grandfather.”
“I?—the shield of Amenhôtep?” exclaimed the minister, with emotion. “Am I worthy of it?”
“By thy wisdom thou art equal to my grandfather, and thou wilt equal him in position.”
Herhor made a low bow in silence. That golden shield set with precious stones, besides its great value in money, had moreover the virtue of an amulet; hence it was a regal present.
But the prince’s words might have the loftier meaning that Herhor would equal Amenhôtep in position. Amenhôtep had been the father-in-law of a pharaoh. Had the heir decided already to marry Herhor’s daughter?
That was the fond dream of Queen Nikotris and the minister. But it must be acknowledged that Rameses in speaking of the future dignities of Herhor had not thought in the least of marrying his daughter, but of giving him new offices, of which there was a multitude at the court and in the temples.
FROM the day that he became viceroy of Lower Egypt a life unparalleled in troubles set in for Rameses,—such a life as he had not even imagined, though born and reared in the pharaoh’s palace.
People simply tortured him; his torturers were persons who had interests of various kinds and who were of various social classes.
On the very first day, at sight of the throngs of people, who crowded and pushed one another with eagerness, trampled hislawns, broke his trees, and injured even the wall which enclosed his villa, the heir demanded a guard for protection. But on the third day he was forced to flee from his own dwelling to the precincts of the palace proper, where, because of numerous sentries and above all because of high walls, access to him was made difficult.
During the ten days which preceded his departure, representatives of all Egypt, if not of the whole world of that period, passed before the eyes of the new viceroy.
First of all were admitted great personages. Hence to congratulate him came the high priests of temples, ministers, ambassadors, Phœnician, Greek, Hebrew, Assyrian, Nubian, men whose dresses even he could not remember. Next came the chiefs of neighboring provinces, judges, secretaries, the higher officers of the army corps in Memphis, and landowners.
These people desired nothing, they simply expressed their delight at honor shown him. But the prince, while listening to these persons from morning till midday and from midday till evening, felt confusion in his head, and a quivering in all his members.
After these came representatives of the lower classes with gifts: merchants bringing gold, foreign stuffs, amber, fruits, and perfumes. Then bankers and men who loaned money for interest. Further, architects with plans for new buildings, sculptors with projects for statues and carvings in relief, masons, potters, makers of ordinary and ornamental furniture, blacksmiths, founders, tanners, wine-merchants, weavers, even dissectors who opened the bodies of the departed.
The procession of those men rendering homage had not finished when an army of petitioners approached the viceroy. Invalids, widows, and orphans of officers requested pensions; noble lords required court offices for their sons. Engineers presented new methods of irrigating Egypt; physicians offered means against diseases of all sorts; soothsayers offered horoscopes. Relatives of prisoners petitioned to lessen punishments; those condemned to death begged for life; the sick implored the heir to touch them, or to bestow on them his spittle.
Finally, beautiful women announced themselves, the mothers of stately daughters begging the heir humbly but insistently toreceive them into his mansion. Some indicated the amount of the pension demanded, praising their virginity and their talents.
After ten days of looking every moment at new persons and faces, and hearing petitions which only the possession of a world and divine power to dispense it could satisfy, Prince Rameses was exhausted. He could not sleep; he was so excited that the buzz of a fly pained his nerves, and at moments he did not understand what people said when they talked to him.
In this position Herhor came again to assist the viceroy. He commanded to inform the wealthy that the prince would not receive any more persons on questions of interest; and against common people, who, in spite of repeated invitations to disperse, were still waiting, he sent a company of Numidians with clubs. These succeeded with incomparably more ease than Rameses in meeting popular wishes, for before an hour had passed the petitioners had vanished from the square, like mist, while one and another of them for a couple of succeeding days poured water on their heads, or other bruised parts of their bodies.
After this trial of supreme power the prince felt profound contempt for men and became apathetic. He lay two days on a couch with his hands beneath his head gazing vacantly at the ceiling. He did not wonder that his sacred father passed his time at the altars of the gods, but he could not understand how Herhor was able to manage the avalanche of business, which, like a storm, not only surpassed the strength of a man, but might even crush him.
“How carry out plans in this case when a throng of petitions fetter our will, devour our thoughts, drink our blood? At the end of ten days I am sick, at the end of a year I should be an idiot. In this office it is impossible to carry out any plan; a man can just defend himself from madness.”
He was so alarmed by his weakness in the position of ruler that he summoned Herhor, and with a complaining voice told of his suffering.
The statesman listened with a smile to the complaints of the young steersman of the ship of state, and at last said in answer,—
“Knowest thou, lord, that this immense palace in which we dwell was reared by one architect, named Senebi, who moreover died before it was finished? And to a certainty thou wilt understand how this famous architect could carry out his plan without weariness and be always in a cheerful temper.”
“I am curious.”
“Well, he did not do everything himself; he did not hew the beams or cut the stones, he did not make the bricks, he did not carry them to the scaffolding. He did not lay them into the wall and fasten them together. He only drew the plan, and moreover he had assistants. But thou, prince, hadst the wish to do all things thyself, to listen in person and transact every business. That goes beyond human strength.”
“How should I do otherwise if among petitioners there are some who have suffered without cause, or if there is unrewarded service? Of course the foundation of the state is justice.”
“How many canst thou hear in a day without weariness?” asked Herhor.
“Well, twenty.”
“Thou art happy. I hear at the most six or ten, but they are not interested in the petitions,—they are chief secretaries, overseers, and ministers. These men report to me no details, only the most important things that are done in the army, on the estates of the pharaoh, in questions of religion, in the courts, in the provinces, and touching movements of the Nile. Therefore they report no trivial matter, because each man before he comes to me must hear ten inferior secretaries. Each inferior secretary and overseer collected information from ten sub-secretaries and sub-inspectors, and they in their turn have heard reports from ten officials who are under them. In this manner I and his holiness speaking with only ten people daily know all that is most important in a hundred thousand points of Egypt and the world beyond it.
“The watchman in charge of one part of a street in Memphis sees only a few houses. A decurion of ten policemen knows the whole street, a centurion a division of the city, the chief knows all the city. The pharaoh stands above them all, as if he were standing on the highest pylon of the temple of Ptah, and sees not only Memphis, but the cities, Sochem, On, Cherau, Turra,Tetani, with their suburbs, and a portion of the western desert.
Step Pyramid
“From that height his holiness is unable, it is true, to see the people who are wronged, or those who are unrewarded, but he is able to see the crowd of laborers who have collected without work. He cannot see warriors in the dramshops, but he can know what regiment is exercising. He cannot see what a given earth-tiller or citizen is preparing for dinner, but he can see a fire beginning in a given quarter of the city.
“This order in the state,” continued Herhor, with growing animation, “is our strength and glory. Snofru, a pharaoh of the first dynasty, asked a certain priest what monument he should rear to himself.
“‘Draw on the earth, O lord,’ replied the priest, ‘a square, and put on it six million unhewn stones; they will represent the people. On that foundation place sixty thousand hewn stones; they will be the lower officials. On them place six thousand polished stones; they will be thy higher officials. On these put sixty covered with carvings; those will be thy most intimate counsellors and chief leaders, and on the summit place one monolith with its pedestal and the golden image of the sun; that will be thyself.’
“The Pharaoh Snofru followed that advice. Thus rose the oldest pyramid, the step pyramid, a tangible image of our state; from that pyramid all others had their origin. Those are immovable buildings, from the summits of which the rim of the world is visible, and they will be a marvel to the remotest generations.
“In this system resides our superiority over all neighbors. The Ethiopians were as numerous as we, but their king himself took care of his own cattle, and beat his own subjects with a club; he knew not how many subjects he had, nor was he able to collect them when our troops invaded his country. There was not a united Ethiopia, but a great crowd of unorganized people. For that reason they are our vassals at present.
“The Prince of Libya judges all disputes himself, especially among the wealthy, and gives so much time to them that he cannot attend to his own business. So at his side whole bands of robbers rise up; these we exterminate.
“Were there in Phœnicia a single ruler who knew what was happening and who commanded in all parts, that country would not pay us one uten of tribute. But what a happiness for us that the kings of Nineveh and Babylon have each only one minister, and are tormented with the onrush of business as thou art this day. They wish to see, judge, and command everything; hence the affairs of their states are entangled for a century to come. But were some insignificant scribe to go from Egypt to those kings, explain their errors of management, and give them our official system, our pyramid, in a year’s time Judæa and Phœnicia would fall into the hands of the Assyrians, and in a few tens of years powerful armies, coming from the East and the North by land and by sea, would hurl themselves on us, armies which we might not be able to vanquish.”
“Therefore let us fall on them to-day and take advantage of their want of order,” cried Rameses.
“We are not cured yet of previous victories,” answered Herhor, coldly; and he began to take leave of the viceroy.
“Have victories weakened us?” burst out the heir. “Or have we not brought home treasures?”
“But does not the axe with which we cut wood become blunted?” inquired Herhor; and he went out.
The prince understood that the great minister wished peace at all costs, in spite of the fact that he was chief of the armies.
“We shall see,” whispered Rameses to himself.
A couple of days before his departure Rameses was summoned to his holiness. The pharaoh was sitting in an armchair in a marble hall; no other person was present, and the four entrances were guarded by Nubian sentries.
At the side of the royal armchair was a stool for the prince, and a small table covered with documents written on papyrus. On the walls were colored bas-reliefs showing the occupations of field-workers, and in the corners of the hall were ungraceful statues of Osiris smiling pensively.
When the prince at command of his father sat down, his holiness spoke to him,—
“Here, my son, are thy documents as leader and viceroy. Well, have the first days of power wearied thee?”
“In thy service, holiness, I shall find strength.”
“Flatterer!” said the pharaoh, smiling. “Remember that I do not require overwork on thy part. Amuse thyself; youth needs recreation. This does not mean, however, that thou art not to have important affairs to manage.”
“I am ready.”
“First I will disclose my cares to thee. Our treasury has a bad aspect; the inflow of revenue decreases yearly, especially in Lower Egypt, and expenditures are rising.”
The pharaoh fell to thinking.
“Those women—those women, Rameses,—they swallow up the wealth, not of mortal men only, but my wealth. I have some hundreds of them, and each woman wishes to have as many maids as possible, as many dressmakers, barbers, slaves,—slaves for her litter, slaves for her chamber,—horses, oarsmen, even her own favorites and their children— Little children! When I was returning from Thebes one of those ladies, whom I do not even remember, ran into my road and, showing a sturdy boy of three years, desired that I should designate for him a property, since he was, as she said, a son of mine. My son, and three years of age. Canst thou understand this? The affair was simple. I could not argue with a woman, besides, in such a delicate question. But for a man of noble birth it is easier to be polite than find money for every fancy of that sort.”
He shook his head and continued,—
“Meanwhile incomes since the beginning of my reign have decreased one-half, especially in Lower Egypt. I ask what this means. They answer: people have grown poor, many citizens have disappeared, the sea has covered a certain extent of land on the north, and the desert on the east, we have had a number of bad harvests; in a word, tale follows tale while the treasury becomes poorer and poorer. Therefore I beg thee to explain this matter. Look about, learn to know well-informed men who are truthful, and form of them an examining commission. When they begin to report, trust not over-much to papyrus, but verify here and there in person. I hear that thou hast the eye of a leader; if that be true, one glance will tell thee how accurate the statements of the commission are. Buthasten not in giving thy opinion, and above all, do not herald it. Note down every weighty conclusion which comes to thy head on a given day, and when a few days have passed reëxamine that question and note it down a second time. This will teach thee caution in judgment and accuracy in grasping subjects.”
“It will be as thou commandest,” replied the prince.
“Another mission which thou must accomplish is truly difficult. Something is happening in Assyria which begins to alarm my government. Our priests declare that beyond the Northern sea stands a pyramidal mountain covered with green at its base and with snow on the summit. This mountain has marvellous qualities. After many years of quiet it begins all at once to smoke, roar, and tremble, and then it hurls out as much liquid fire as there is water in the Nile. This fire, which flows down its sides in various directions and over an immense stretch of country, ruins the labor of earth-tillers.
“Well, Assyria is a mountain of that sort. For whole ages calm and quiet reign in that region, till all on a sudden a tempest bursts out there, great armies pour forth from it and annihilate peaceful neighbors. At present around Nineveh and Babylon seething is audible: the mountain is smoking. Thou must learn therefore how far that smoke indicates an outburst, and think out means of precaution.”
“Shall I be able to do so?” asked the prince, in a low voice.
“Thou must learn to observe. If thou hast the wish to learn anything well, be not satisfied with the witness of thy own eyes, but strengthen thyself with the aid of a number of others. Confine not thyself to the judgment of Egyptians alone, for each people, each man has a special way of looking at subjects, and neither one grasps the whole truth in any question. Listen therefore to what the Phœnicians, the Hebrews, the Hittites, and the Egyptians think of the Assyrians, and weigh in thy own heart with care all that agrees in their judgments concerning Assyria. If all tell thee that danger is coming from that point, thou wilt know that it is coming; but if different men speak variously, be on thy guard also, for wisdom commands us to look for less good and more evil.”
“Thy speech is like that of the gods,” whispered the heir of Egypt.
“I am old, and from the height of the throne things are seen of which mortal men have not even a suspicion. Wert thou to inquire of the sun what he thinks of this world’s affairs, he would tell thee things still more curious.”
“Among the people from whom I am to gain knowledge of Assyria, thou hast not mentioned the Greeks, O father,” put in Rameses.
The pharaoh nodded, and said with a kindly smile,—
“The Greeks! oh, the Greeks! A great future is in store for that people. In comparison with us they are in childhood, but what a spirit is in them!
“Dost remember my statue made by a Greek sculptor? That is my second self, a living person! I kept it a month in the palace, but at last I gave it to the temple in Thebes. Wilt thou believe, fear seized me lest that stoneIshould rise from its seat and claim one-half of the government. What a disorder would rise then in Egypt!
“The Greeks! Hast thou seen the vases which they make, the palaces which they build? From that clay out there and from stone something comes that delights my old age and forbids me to think of my feebleness.
“And their language! O gods, it is music and sculpture and painting. In truth, I say that if Egypt could ever die as a man dies, the Greeks would take all its property. Nay more, they would persuade the world that everything done by us was their work, and that we never existed. And still they are only the pupils of our primary schools, for, as thou knowest, we have no right to communicate the highest knowledge to foreigners.”
“Still, father, it seems that thou hast no trust in the Greeks.”
“No, for they are peculiar; one can trust neither Greek nor Phœnician. The Phœnician, when he wishes, sees and will tell thee genuine truth of Egypt, but thou wilt never know when he is telling it. The Greek, as simple as a child, would tell the truth always, but he is never able.
“The Greeks look at the world in a manner different altogether from our way. In their wonderful eyes everything glitters, assumes colors and changes, as the sky and the water of Egypt. How then could we rely on their judgment?
“In the days of the Theban dynasty, far away toward the north, was the little town of Troy. We have in Egypt twenty thousand as large as it. Various Greek vagrants laid siege to that hamlet, and so annoyed its few inhabitants that after ten years of trouble they burned their little fortress and moved to other places. An every-day robber narrative! Meanwhile just see what songs the Greeks sing of the Trojan combats. We laugh at those wonders and heroisms, for our government had accurate information of events there. We see the lies which strike any one, but still we listen to those songs, as a child does to tales which its nurse tells, and we cannot tear ourselves free from them.
“Such are the Greeks: born liars, but fascinating; yes, and valiant. Every man of them would rather die than tell truth. They do not lie for profit, as do the Phœnicians, but because their mind constrains them.”
“Well, what am I to think of the Phœnicians?”
“They are wise people of mighty industry and daring, but hucksters: for them life means profit, be it great or the greatest. The Phœnicians are like water: they bring much with them, but bear away much, and push in at all points. One must give them the least possible, and above all watch that they enter not through hidden crannies into Egypt. If thou pay them well and offer hope of still greater profit, they will be excellent assistants. What we know to-day of secret movements in Assyria we know through Phœnicians.”
“And the Jews?” asked the prince, dropping his eyes.
“A quick people, but gloomy fanatics and born enemies of Egypt. Only when they feel on their necks the iron-shod sandal of the Assyrian, will they turn to us. May that time not come too late to them! It is possible to use their services, not here, of course, but in Nineveh and Babylon.”
The pharaoh was wearied now. Hence the prince fell on his face before him, and when he had received the paternal embrace he went to his mother.
The lady, sitting in her study, was weaving delicate linen to make garments for the gods, and her ladies in waiting were sewing and embroidering robes or making bouquets. A young priest was burning incense before the statue of Isis.
“I come,” said the prince, “to thank thee, my mother, and take farewell.”
The queen rose and putting her arms around her son’s neck, said to him tearfully,—
“Hast thou changed so much? Thou art a man now! I meet thee so rarely that I might forget thy features did I not see them in my heart every moment. Thou art unkind. How many times have I gone with the first dignitary of the state toward thy villa, thinking that at last thou wouldst cease to be offended, but thou didst bring out thy favorite in my presence.”
“I beg thy pardon—I beg thy pardon!” said Rameses, kissing his mother.
She conducted him to a garden in which peculiar flowers grew, and when they were without witnesses, she said,—
“I am a woman, so a woman and a mother has interest for me. Dost thou wish to take that girl with thee on thy journey? Remember that the tumult and the movement which will surround thee may harm her, for in her condition calm and quiet are needed.”
“Art thou speaking of Sarah?” inquired Rameses, astonished. “She has said nothing to me of that condition.”
“She may be ashamed; perhaps she does not herself know,” replied the queen. “In every case the journey—”
“I have no intention of taking her!” exclaimed Rameses. “But why does she hide this from me—as if the child were not mine?”
“Be not suspicious,” chided the lady. “This is the usual timidity of young women. Moreover, she may be hiding her condition from fear lest thou cast her away from thee.”
“For that matter, I shall not take her to my court!” broke out the prince, so impatiently that the queen’s eyes were smiling, but she covered them with their long lashes.
“It is not well to be over-harsh with a woman who loved thee. I know that thou hast given an assured support to her. We will give her something also. And a child of the royal blood must be reared well, and have property.”
“Naturally,” answered Rameses. “My first son, though without princely rights, must be so placed that I may not be ashamed of him, and he must not regret separation from me.”
After parting with the queen, Rameses wished to go to Sarah, and with that object returned to his chambers.
Two feelings were roused in him,—anger at Sarah for hiding the cause of her weakness, and pride that he was going to be a father.
He a father! This title gave him an importance which, as it were, supported his titles of commander and viceroy. Father! that did not mean a stripling who must look perforce with reverence on older people.
He was roused and enraptured. He wished to see Sarah, to scold, then embrace her and give her presents.
But when he returned to his part of the palace he found there two nomarchs from Lower Egypt who had come to report on their provinces, and when he had heard them out, he was wearied. Besides, he was to hold an evening reception and did not wish to be late in beginning.
“And again I shall not be with her,” thought he. “Poor girl! for twenty days she has not seen me—”
He summoned the negro.
“Hast thou that cage which Sarah gave thee when we went to greet his holiness?”
“I have.”
“Take a pigeon from it, and let the bird loose.”
“The pigeons are eaten.”
“Who ate them?”
“Thou. I told the cook that those birds came from the Lady Sarah; so he made a roast and pies out of them for thee, worthiness.”
“May the crocodiles eat you both!” cried the prince, in anger.
He sent for Tutmosis and despatched him immediately to Sarah. He explained to him the history of the pigeons, and said,—
“Give her emerald earrings, bracelets, anklets, and two talents. Say that I am angry because she concealed her condition, but that I will forgive her if the child is healthy and handsome. Should she have a boy, I will give her another place,” finished he with a smile. “But—but—persuade her to put away even a few Jews, and to take even a fewEgyptian men and women. I do not wish my son to be born into such company; besides, he might play with Jew children. They would teach him to give his father the worst dates of the harvest.”
Village of Bedreshen on the site of Memphis
THE foreign quarter in Memphis lay on the northeastern extremity of the city near the river. There were several hundred houses in that place and many thousand people,—Assyrians, Greeks, Jews, most of all, Phœnicians.
That was a wealthy quarter. A street thirty paces in width formed its leading artery. This street was rather straight, and paved with flat stones. On both sides were houses of sandstone, brick, or limestone, varying in height from three to five stories. In the cellars were stores of raw materials; on the ground floors were arched rooms; on the first stories dwellings of wealthy people; higher were the workshops of weavers, tailors, jewellers; highest of all, the crowded dwellings of laborers.
The buildings of this quarter, like those in the whole city, were mainly white; but one might see stone houses as green as a meadow, as yellow as a wheat-field, as blue as the sky, or as red as blood.
The front walls of many houses were ornamented with pictures representing the occupations of people who dwelt in them. On the house of a jeweller long rows of pictures announced that its owner sold to foreign kings chains and bracelets of his own making which roused their amazement. The immense palace of a merchant was covered with pictures representing the labors and perils of a trafficker: on the sea dreadful monsters with fish tails were seizing the man; in the desert winged dragons breathing fire were grasping after him, and on distant islands he was tormented by a giant whose sandals were larger than any ship of the Phœnicians.
A physician on the wall of his office represented persons who, thanks to his aid, had recovered lost hands and feet, even teeth and youthfulness. On a building occupied by a government administrator of the quarter were to be seen a keg intowhich people were throwing gold rings; a scribe into whose ears some one was whispering; an offender, stretched on the ground, whom two other men were beating.
The street was full. Along the walls stood litter-bearers, men with fans, messengers and laborers, ready to offer their services. In the middle of the street moved an unbroken line of merchants’ wares carried by men, asses, or oxen attached to vehicles. On the sidewalks pushed forward noisy sellers of fresh water, grapes, dates, dried fish, and among them hucksters, flower-girls, musicians, and tricksters of various descriptions.
In this torrent of people which flowed forward and separated, in which men bought and sold, crying out in various tones, policemen were prominent. Each had a brownish tunic reaching to his knees, bare legs, an apron with blue and red stripes, a short sword at his side, and a strong stick in his hand. This official walked along on the sidewalk; sometimes he conversed with a colleague; most frequently, however, he stood on a stone at the edge of the street, so as to take in more accurately the crowd which flowed past in front of him.
In view of such watchfulness street thieves had to do their work cleverly. Usually two began to fight, and when a crowd had gathered around them and the police clubbed both spectators and quarrellers, other confederates in the art did the stealing.
About half-way between the two ends of the street stood the inn of Asarhadon, a Phœnician from Tyre. In this inn, for easier control, all were forced to dwell who came from beyond the boundaries of Egypt. It was a large quadrangular building which on each side had a number of tens of windows, and was not connected with other houses; hence men could go around the place and watch it from all points. Over the principal gate hung the model of a ship; on the front wall were pictures representing his holiness Rameses XII. placing offerings before the gods, or extending his protection to foreigners, among whom the Phœnicians were distinguished by a sturdy stature and very ruddy faces.
The windows were narrow, always open, and only in case of need shaded by curtains of linen or by colored slats. The chambers of the innkeeper and of travellers occupied threestories; the ground floor was devoted to a wineshop and an eating-place. Sailors, carriers, handicraftsmen, and in general the poorer class of travellers ate and drank in a courtyard which had a mosaic pavement and a linen roof resting on columns, so that all guests might be under inspection. The wealthier and better born ate in a gallery which surrounded the courtyard. In the courtyard the men sat on the pavement near stones which were used instead of tables; in the galleries, which were cooler, there were tables, stools, and armchairs, even low couches, with cushions, on which guests might slumber.
In each gallery there was a great table on which were bread, meat, fish, and fruits, also jugs holding several quarts of beer, wine, and water. Negroes, men and women, bore around food to the guests, removed empty vessels, and brought from the cellars full pitchers, while scribes watching scrupulously over the tables noted down carefully each piece of bread, bulb of garlic, and flagon of water. In the courtyard two inspectors stood on an elevation with sticks in their grasp; these men kept their eyes on the servants and the scribes on the one hand, and on the other by the aid of the sticks they settled quarrels between the poorer guests of various nations. Thanks to this arrangement thefts and battles happened rarely; they were more frequent in the galleries than the courtyard.
The Phœnician innkeeper himself, the noted Asarhadon, a man beyond fifty, dressed in a long tunic and a muslin cape, walked among the guests to see if each received what he had ordered.
“Eat and drink, my sons!” said he to the Greek sailors, “for such pork and beer there is not in all the world as I have. I hear that a storm struck your ship about Rafia? Ye should give a bounteous offering to the gods for preserving you. In Memphis a man might not see a storm all his life, but at sea it is easier to meet lightning than a copper uten. I have mead, flour, incense for holy sacrifices, and here, in the corner, stand the gods of all nations. In my inn a man may still his hunger and be pious for very slight charges.”
He turned and went to the gallery among the merchants. “Eat and drink, worthy lords,” incited he, making obeisance. “The times are good. The most worthy heir—may he live forever!—is going to Pi-Bast with an enormous retinue, but from the upper kingdom a transport of gold has come, of which more than one of you will win a good portion. I have partridges, young goslings, fish direct from the river, perfect roast venison. And what wine they have sent me from Cyprus! May I be turned into a Jew if a goblet of that luxury is not worth two drachmas, but to you, my benefactors and fathers, I will give it to-day for one drachma,—only to-day, to make a beginning.”
“Give it for half a drachma a goblet, and we will taste it,” said one of the merchants.
“Half a drachma!” repeated the host. “Sooner will the Nile flow upward toward Thebes than I give such sweetness for half a drachma, unless I do it for thee, Lord Belezis, who art the pearl of Sidon. Hei, slaves! bring to our benefactors the largest pitcher of wine from Cyprus.”
When the innkeeper had walked on, the merchant named Belezis said to his companions,—
“May my hand wither if that wine is worth half a drachma! But never mind! We shall have less trouble with the police hereafter.”
Conversation with guests of all nations and conditions did not prevent the host from looking at the scribes who noted down food and drink, at the watchman who stared at the scribes and the servants, and above all at a traveller who had seated himself on cushions in the front gallery, with his feet under him, and who was dozing over a handful of dates and a goblet of pure water. That traveller was about forty years old, he had abundant hair and beard of raven color, thoughtful eyes, and wonderfully noble features which seemed never to have been wrinkled by anger or distorted by fear.
“That is a dangerous rat!” thought the innkeeper, frowning. “He has the look of a priest, but he wears a dark coat. He has left gold and jewels with me to the value of a talent, and he neither eats meat nor drinks wine. He must be a great prophet or a very great criminal.”
Two naked serpent-tamers came into the courtyard bearing a basket full of poisonous reptiles, and began their exhibition. The younger one played on a flute, while the elder wound aroundhis body snakes big and little, any one of which would have sufficed to drive away guests from the inn “Under the Ship.”
The flute-player gave out shriller and shriller notes; the serpent-tamer squirmed, foamed at the mouth, quivered convulsively, and irritated the reptiles till one of them bit him on the hand, another on the face, while he swallowed alive a third one, the smallest.
The guests and the servants looked at the exhibition of the serpent-tamer with alarm. They trembled when he irritated the reptiles, they closed their eyes when they bit him; but when the performer swallowed one of the snakes, they howled with delight and wonder.
The traveller in the front gallery, however, did not leave his cushions, he did not deign even to look at the exhibition. But when the tamer approached for pay, he threw to the pavement two copper utens, giving a sign with his hand not to come nearer.
The exhibition lasted half an hour perhaps. When the performers left the courtyard, a negro attending to the chambers of the inn rushed up to the host and whispered something anxiously. After that, it was unknown whence, a decurion of the police appeared, and when he had conducted Asarhadon to a remote window, he conversed long with him. The worthy owner of the inn beat his breast, clasped his hands, or seized his head. At last he kicked the black man in the belly, and commanded him to give the police official a roast goose and a pitcher of Cyprus wine; then he approached the guest in the front gallery, who seemed to doze there unbrokenly, though his eyes were open.
“I have evil news for thee, worthy lord,” said the host, sitting at the side of the traveller.
“The gods send rain and sadness on people whenever it pleases them,” replied the guest, with indifference.
“While we were looking at the snake-tamers,” continued the host, pulling at his parti-colored beard, “thieves reached the second story and stole thy effects,—three bags and a casket, of course very precious.”
“Thou must inform the court of my loss.”
“Wherefore the court?” whispered the host. “With usthieves have a guild of their own. We will send for their elder, and value the effects; thou wilt pay him twenty per cent of the value and all will be found again. I can assist thee.”
“In my country,” replied the guest, “no man compounds with thieves, and I will not. I lodge with thee, I trusted thee with my property, and thou wilt answer.”
The worthy Asarhadon began to scratch his shoulder-blades.
“Man of a distant region,” continued he, in a lower voice, “ye Hittites and we Phœnicians are brothers, hence I advise thee sincerely not to turn to an Egyptian court, for it has only one door,—that by which a man enters, but none by which he goes out.”
“The gods can conduct an innocent man through a wall,” said the Hittite.
“Innocent! Who of us in the land of bondage is innocent?” whispered the host. “Look in that direction; over there that commander of ten policemen is finishing a goose, an excellent young goose, which I myself would have eaten gladly. But dost thou know why, taking it from my own mouth, I gave that goose to him?”
“It was because the man came to inquire about thee.”
When he said this, the Phœnician looked askance at the traveller, who did not lose calmness for an instant.
“He asked me,” continued the host, “that master of ten policemen asked, ‘What sort of man is that black one who sits two hours over a handful of dates?’ I replied: ‘A very honorable man, the lord Phut.’ ‘Whence comes he?’ ‘From the country of the Hittites, from the city of Harran; he has a good house there of three stories, and much land.’ ‘Why has he come hither?’ ‘He has come,’ I replied, ‘to receive five talents from a certain priest, talents lent by his father.’
“And dost thou know, worthy lord,” continued the innkeeper, “what that decurion answered? ‘Asarhadon,’ said he, ‘I know that thou art a faithful servant of his holiness, thou hast good food and pure wines; for this reason I warn thee, look to thyself. Have a care of foreigners who make no acquaintances, who avoid wine and every amusement, and are silent. That Phut of Harran may be an Assyrian spy.’ The heart died in me when I heard this. But these words do not affect thee,”said he, indignantly, when he saw that the terrible suspicion of espionage did not disturb the calm face of the Hittite.
“Asarhadon,” said the guest, after a while, “I confided to thee myself and my property. See to it, therefore, that my bags and my casket are returned to me, for in the opposite case I shall complain of thee to that same chief of ten who is eating the goose which was intended for thee.”
“Well, but permit me to pay the thieves only fifteen per cent of the value of the things,” cried the host.
“Thou hast no right to pay.”
“Give them even thirty drachmas.”
“Not an uten.”
“Give the poor fellows even ten drachmas.”
“Go in peace, Asarhadon, and beg the gods to return thee thy reason,” answered the traveller, with the same unchanging calmness.
The host sprang up, panting from anger.
“The reptile!” thought he. “He has not come for a debt simply. He is doing some business here. My heart tells me that he is a rich merchant, or maybe an innkeeper who, in company with priests and judges, will open another inn somewhere near this one. May the first fire of heaven burn thee! May the leprosy devour thee! Miser, deceiver, criminal from whom an honest man can make nothing.”
The worthy Asarhadon had not succeeded yet in calming himself when the sounds of a flute and a drum were heard on the street, and after a while four dancers, almost naked, rushed into the courtyard. The carriers and sailors greeted them with shouts of delight, and even important merchants in the galleries looked at them with curiosity and made remarks on their beauty. The dancers with motions of the hands and with smiles greeted all the company. One began to play on a double flute, another accompanied with a drum, and the two others danced around the court in such fashion that there was hardly a guest whom their muslin shawls did not strike as they whirled.
Those who were drinking began to sing, shout, and call to the dancers, while among the common herd a quarrel sprang up which the inspectors settled with canes. A certain Libyan, angered at sight of the canes, drew a knife, but two black menseized his arms, took from him some bronze rings as pay for food, and hurled him out to the street. Meanwhile one of the dancers remained with the sailors, two went among the merchants who offered them wine and cakes, and the oldest passed among the tables to make a collection.
“By the sanctuary of the divine Isis!” cried she, “pious strangers, give offerings to the goddess who guards all creation. The more you give the more happiness and blessing will come to you. For the sanctuary of Mother Isis!”
They threw onto her drum coils of copper wire, sometimes a grain of gold. One merchant asked if it were permitted to visit her, to which she nodded with a smile.
When she entered the front gallery, Phut of Harran reached for his leather bag and took out a gold ring, saying,—
“Istar is a great and good goddess; take this for her sanctuary.”
The priestess looked quickly at him and whispered,—
“Anael, Sachiel—”
“Amabiel, Abalidot,” answered the traveller, in the same low tone.
“I see that thou lovest Mother Isis,” said the priestess, aloud. “Thou must be wealthy and art bountiful, so it is worth while to soothsay for thee.”
She sat down near him, ate a couple of dates, and looking at his hand began,—
“Thou art from a distant region, from Bretor and Hagit.[6]Thou hast had a pleasant journey.For some days the Phœnicians are watching thee,” added she, in a lower voice.