“Thou speakest truth,” said Hiram.
“But that is sacrilege!” said Rabsun, indignantly.
“And the priestess who commits it is to die,” said the gray-haired Hiram.
“If only that Jewess, Sarah, does not hinder,” added Dagon, after a moment of silence. “She is waiting for a child to which the prince is attached already. If a son is born, all our plans may be thwarted.”
“We shall have money for Sarah too,” added Hiram.
“She will take nothing!” burst out Dagon. “That pitiful creature has refused gold and a precious goblet, which I carried to her.”
“She did, for she thought that thou hadst the wish to deceive her,” remarked Rabsun.
Hiram nodded.
“There is no cause for trouble,” said he. “Where gold has not power, then the father, the mother, or the mistress may have it. And if the mistress is powerless, there is still—”
“The knife,” hissed Rabsun.
“Poison,” whispered Dagon.
“A knife is a very rude weapon,” concluded Hiram.
He stroked his beard, thought awhile; at last he rose, took from his bosom a purple ribbon on which were fastened three golden amulets with a portrait of the goddess Astaroth. He drew from his girdle a knife, cut the ribbon into three parts, and gave two of these with the amulets to Dagon and Rabsun.
Then all three went to the middle of the room to the corner where stood a winged statue of the goddess; they put their hands on the statue, and Hiram repeated in a low voice, but clearly,—
“To thee, O Mother of Life, we swear faithfully to observe our agreements, and not to rest till the sacred places be secure from enemies,—may they be destroyed by hunger, fire, and pestilence.
“And should one of us fail in his obligations, or betray a secret, may all calamities and disgrace fall on him! May hunger twist his entrails, and sleep flee from his bloodshot eyes! May the hand of the man wither who hastens to him with rescue and pities him in his misery! May the bread on his table turn into rottenness, and the wine into stinking juice! May his children die out, and his house be filled with bastards who will spit on him and expel him! May he die groaning through many days in loneliness, and may neither earth norwater receive his vile carcass, may no fire burn it, no wild beasts devour it!”
“Thus let it be!”
After this terrible oath, which Hiram began, and the second half of which all shouted forth in voices trembling from rage, the three panting Phœnicians rested. After that Rabsun conducted them to a feast where with wine, music, and dancers they forgot for a time the work awaiting them.
NOT far from the city of Pi-Bast stood the temple of the goddess Hator.
In the month Paoni (March-April), on the day of the vernal equinox, about nine in the evening, when the star Sirius inclined toward its setting, two wayfaring priests and one penitent stopped in the gateway. The penitent, who was barefoot, had ashes on his head, and was covered with a coarse cloth which concealed his visage.
Though the air was clear, it was impossible to distinguish the faces of those wayfarers. They stood in the shadow of two immense statues of the cow-headed divinity which guarded the entrance to the temple and with kindly eyes protected the province of Habu from pestilence, southern winds, and bad overflows.
When he had rested somewhat, the penitent fell with his face to the earth and prayed long in that position. Then he rose, took a copper knocker, and struck a blow. A deep metallic sound went through all the courts, reverberated from the thick walls of the temple, and flew over the wheat-fields, above the mud cottages of earth-tillers, over the silvery waters of the Nile, where the faint cry of wakened birds answered it.
After a long time a murmur was heard inside, and the question,—
“Who rouses us?”
“Rameses, a slave of the divinity,” said the penitent.
“For what hast thou come?”
“For the light of wisdom.”
“What right hast them to ask for it?”
“I received the inferior consecration, and in great processions within the temple I carry a torch.”
The gates opened widely. In the centre stood a priest in a white robe; he stretched forth his hand, and said slowly and distinctly,—
“Enter. When thou crossest this threshold, may divine peace dwell in thy soul, and may that be accomplished for which thou implorest humbly.”
When the penitent had fallen at his feet, the priest, making some signs above his head, whispered,—
“In the name of Him who is, who has been, and who will be, who created everything, whose breath fills the visible and the invisible world, and who is life eternal.”
When the gate had closed, the priest took Rameses by the hand, and in the gloom amid the immense columns of the forecourt he led him to the dwelling assigned to him. It was a small cell lighted by a lamp. On the stone pavement lay a bundle of dry grass; in a corner stood a pitcher of water, and near it was a barley cake.
“I see that here I shall have rest indeed after my occupations with the nomarchs,” said Rameses, joyously.
“Think of eternity,” replied the priest; and he withdrew.
This answer struck Rameses disagreeably. Though he was hungry, he did not wish to eat a cake or drink water. He sat on the grass, and looking at his feet wounded from the journey, asked himself why he had come, why he had put himself voluntarily out of his office.
Seeing the walls of the cell and its poverty, he recalled the years of his boyhood passed at a priests’ school. How many blows of sticks he had received there, how many nights he had passed on a stone floor as punishment! Even then Rameses felt the hatred and fear which he had felt before toward that harsh priest who to all his prayers and questions answered only with, “Think of eternity.”
After some months of uproar to drop into such silence, to exchange the court of a prince for obscurity and loneliness, and instead of feasts, women, and music, to feel around and abovehim the weight of walls! “I have gone mad! I have gone mad!” muttered Rameses.
There was a moment when he wished to leave the temple at once; but afterward he thought that they might not open the gate to him. The sight of his dirty legs, of the ashes falling out of his hair, the roughness of his penitential rags, all this disgusted him. If he had had his sword even! But would he, dressed as he was in that place, dare to use it?
He felt an overpowering dread, and that sobered him. He remembered that the gods in temples send down fear on men, and that this fear must be the beginning of wisdom.
“Moreover, I am the viceroy and the heir of the pharaoh,” thought he; “who will harm me in this temple?”
He rose and went out of the cell. He found himself in a broad court surrounded by columns. The stars were shining brightly; hence he saw at one end of the court an immense pylon, at the other an open entrance to the temple.
He went thither. At the door there was gloom, and somewhere far off flamed a number of lamps, as if in the air and unsupported. Looking more attentively, he saw standing closely together between the entrance and the lamps a forest of columns, the tops of which were lost in darkness. At a distance, perhaps two hundred yards from him, he saw indistinctly the gigantic legs of a sitting goddess with her hands resting on her knees, from which the lamplight was reflected dimly.
All at once he heard a sound from afar. From a side passage a row of white figures pushed forth, moving in couples. This was a night procession of priests, who, singing in two choruses, gave homage to the statue of the goddess:Chorus I.“I am He who created heaven and earth and made all things contained in them.”Chorus II.“I am He who created the waters and the great overflow, He who made for the bull his mother whose parent he himself is.”Chorus I.“I am He who made heaven and the secrets of its horizon; as to the gods I it was who placed their souls in them.”Chorus II.“I am He who when he opens his eyes there is light in the world and when he closes them darkness is present.”Chorus I.“The waters of the Nile flow when he commands.”Chorus II.“But the gods do not know what his name is.”[9]
[9]Authentic.
[9]Authentic.
The voices, indistinct at first, grew stronger, so that each word was audible, and when the procession disappeared the words scattered among the columns, growing ever fainter. At last every sound ceased.
“And still those people,” thought Rameses, “not only eat, drink, and gather wealth—they really perform religious services even in the night-time; though, how is that to affect the statue?”
The prince had seen more than once the statues of boundary divinities bespattered with mud by the inhabitants of another province, or shot at from bows or slings by mercenary soldiers. “If gods are not offended by insult, they must also care little for prayers and processions. Besides, who has seen gods?” said the prince to himself.
The immensity of the temple, its countless columns, the lamps burning in front of the statue,—all this attracted Rameses. He wished to look around in that mysterious immensity, and he went forward. Then it seemed to him that some hand from behind touched his head tenderly. He looked around. No one was there; so he went farther.
This time the two hands of some person seized him by the head, and a third, a great hand, rested on his shoulder.
“Who is here?” cried the prince; and he rushed in among the columns. But he stumbled and almost fell: some one caught him by the feet. Again terror mastered Rameses more than in the cell. He fled distracted, knocking against columns which seemed to bar the way to him, and darkness closed around the man on all sides.
“Oh, save, holy goddess, save me!” whispered he.
At this moment he stopped: some yards in front of him was the great door of a temple through which the starry sky was visible. He turned his head. Amid the forest of gigantic columns lamps were burning, and the gleam of them was reflected faintly from the bronze knees of the holy Hator.
The prince returned to his cell, crushed and excited; his heart throbbed like that of a bird caught in a net. For the first time in many years he fell with his face to the earth and prayed ardently for favor and forgiveness.
“Thou wilt be heard,” answered a sweet voice above him.
Rameses raised his head quickly, but there was no one in thecell: the door was closed, the walls were thick. He prayed on therefore more ardently, and fell asleep in that position, with his face on the stones and his arms extended.
When he woke next morning, he was another man: he had experienced the might of the gods, and favor had been promised.
From that time through a long series of days he gave himself to devotional exercises with faith and alacrity. In his cell he spent long hours over prayers, he had his head shaven, and put on priestly garments, and four times in twenty-four hours he took part in a chorus of the youngest priests.
His past life, taken up with amusements, roused in him aversion, and the disbelief which he had acquired amid foreigners and dissolute youth filled him with dread in that interval. And if that day the choice had been given him to take either the throne or the priestly office, he would have hesitated.
A certain day the great prophet of the temple summoned the prince, and reminded him that he had not entered for prayers exclusively, but to learn wisdom. The prophet praised his devotion, declared that he was purified then from worldly foulness, and commanded him to become acquainted with the schools connected with that temple.
Rather through obedience than curiosity, the prince went directly from him to the interior court, where the department of reading and writing was situated.
That was a great hall, lighted through an opening in the roof. On mats some tens of naked pupils were seated holding wax tablets in their hands. One wall was of smooth alabaster; before it stood a teacher who wrote characters with chalks of various colors.
When the prince entered, the pupils, almost all of the same age that he was, fell on their faces. The teacher bowed, and stopped his actual labor to explain to the youths the great meaning of knowledge.
“My beloved,” said he, “a man who has no heart for wisdom must occupy himself with handwork and torment his eyesight. But he who understands the worth of knowledge and forms himself accordingly may gain all kinds of power and every court office. Remember this.[10]
[10]Authentic.
[10]Authentic.
“Look at the wretched fate of men unacquainted with writing. A smith is black and grimy, his hands are full of lumps, and he toils night and day all his lifetime. The quarryman pulls his arms out to satisfy his stomach. The mason while forming a capital in lotus shape is hurled off by wind from the scaffold. A weaver has bent knees, a maker of weapons is ever travelling: barely does he come to his house in the evening when he must leave it. The fingers of a wall painter smell disagreeably, and his time passes in trimming up trifles. The courier when taking farewell of his family must leave a will, for he may have to meet wild beasts or Asiatics.
“I have shown you the lot of men of various labors, for I wish you to love writing, which is your mother, and now I will present to you its beauties. It is not an empty word on earth, it is the most important of all occupations. He who makes use of writing is respected from childhood; he accomplishes every great mission. But he who takes no part in it lives on in wretchedness. School sciences are as difficult as mountains, but one day of them lasts through eternity. So learn quickly and you will love them. The scribe has a princely position; his pen and his book win him wealth and acceptance.”
After a sounding discourse on the dignity of knowledge, a discourse which Egyptian pupils had heard without change for three millenniums, the master took chalk and on the alabaster wall began to write the alphabet. Each letter was expressed through a number of hieroglyphs, or a number of demotic characters. The picture of an eye, a bird, or a panther signifiedA, a sheep or a potB, a man standing or a boatK, a serpentR, a man sitting or a starS. The abundance of signs expressing each sound made the art of reading or writing extremely laborious.
Rameses was wearied by mere listening, during which the only relief was when the teacher commanded some pupil to draw, or to name some letter, and beat him with a cane when he failed in his effort.
Taking farewell of the teacher and the pupils, the prince from the school of scribes passed to the school of surveyors. There they taught youth to draw plans of fields which were for the most part rectangular, also to take the elevation of land bymeans of two laths and a square. In this department also they explained the art of writing numbers no less involved in hieroglyphic or demotic characters. But pure arithmetical problems formed a higher course, and were solved by means of bullets.
Rameses had enough of this, and only after some days would he visit the school of medicine.
This was also a hospital, or rather great garden containing a multitude of fragrant plants and trees. Patients passed whole days in the open air and in sunlight, on beds where strips of stretched canvas took the place of mattresses.
The greatest activity reigned when the prince entered. Some patients were bathing in a pond of running water; attendants were rubbing one man with fragrant ointments, and burning perfumes before another. There were some whom they had put to sleep by looking at them and by stretching out their bodies; one patient was groaning while they were setting his sprained ankle.
To a certain woman who was grievously sick the priest was giving some mixture from a goblet, while uttering an enchantment which had power in connection with this remedy,—
“Go, cure, go, drive that out of my heart, out of my members.”[11]
[11]Authentic.
[11]Authentic.
Then the prince in company with a great leech went to the pharmacy, where one of the priests was preparing cures from plants, honey, olive oil, from the skins of serpents and lizards, from the bones and fat of beasts. When Rameses questioned him, the man did not take his eyes from the work. He looked continually, and ground the materials, uttering a prayer as he did so,—
“Thou hast cured Isis, thou hast cured Isis, thou hast cured Horus—O Isis, great enchantress, make me well, free me from all evil, from harmful red things, from fever of the god, from fever of the goddess[12]—
[12]Authentic.
[12]Authentic.
“O Shauagat, eenagate, synie! Erukate! Kauaruchagate! Paparauka paparaka paparura.”
“What is he saying?” asked the prince.
“A secret,” answered the leech, putting his finger on his lips.
When they came out to an empty court, Rameses said to the great leech,—
“Tell me, holy father, what is the art of curing, and what are its methods. For I have heard that sickness is an evil spirit which settles in a man and torments him, because it is hungry, until it receives the food that it wishes. And that one evil spirit or sickness feeds on honey, another on olive oil, and a third on the excreta of animals. A leech, therefore, should know first what spirit has settled in the sick man, and then what kind of nourishment is required by that spirit, so that it should not torture the patient.”
The priest thought awhile and then answered,—
“What sickness is and in what way it falls on the human body, I cannot tell, O Rameses. But to thee I will explain, for thou hast been purified, how we govern ourselves in giving medicine.
“Suppose a given man to be sick in the liver. We priests know that the liver is under the star Peneter-Deva,[13]that the cure must depend on that star.
[13]Planet Venus.
[13]Planet Venus.
“But here the sages are divided into two schools. Some assert that it is necessary to give the man who is sick in his liver things over which Peneter-Deva has influence, therefore copper, lapis lazuli, extract of flowers, above all verbena and valerian, finally, various parts of the body of the turtle-dove and the goat. Other leeches consider that when the liver is diseased it is necessary to cure it with just the opposite remedies, and the opponent of Peneter-Deva being Sebek,[14]to give quicksilver, emerald, and agate, hazel-wood and coltsfoot, also parts of the body of a toad and an owl rubbed into powder.
[14]Planet Mercury.
[14]Planet Mercury.
“But this is not all, for it is necessary to think of the day, the month, and the hour of the day, for each of these spaces of time are under the influence of a star which must support or weaken the action of the medicine. Besides, it is needful to remember what star and what sign of the Zodiac rules the sick person. Only when the leech considers all these can he prescribe an infallible remedy.”
“And do ye help all sick people in the temple?”
The priest shook his head.
“No. The mind of man, which should take in all these details of which I have spoken, makes mistakes very easily. Andwhat is worse, envious spirits, the geniuses of other temples, jealous of their fame, frequently hinder the leech and destroy the effect of his medicines. The result, therefore, may be that one patient will return to perfect health, another simply grows better, while a third remains without change, though there happen some who become still sicker, or even die— This is as the gods will!”
The prince listened with attention, but confessed in soul that he did not understand greatly. All at once he recalled the object of his visit to the temple, and inquired of the great leech unexpectedly,—
“Ye were to show me, holy father, the secret of the treasure of the pharaoh. Was it those things which we have seen?”
“By no means. We know nothing of state affairs. But when the great seer comes, the holy priest Pentuer, he will remove from thy eyes the curtain.”
Rameses took leave of the leech with increased curiosity as to what they were to show him.
THE temple received Pentuer with great honor, and the inferior priests went out half an hour’s journey to greet him. From all the wonderful places of Lower Egypt many prophets had assembled with the intent to hear words of wisdom. A couple of days later came the high priest Mefres and the prophet Mentezufis. These two rendered honor to Pentuer, not only because he was a counsellor of Herhor and notwithstanding his youth a member of the supreme college, but because this priest enjoyed favor throughout Egypt. The gods had given him a memory which seemed more than human; they had given him eloquence, and above all a marvellous gift of clear vision. In every affair he saw points hidden from others, and was able to explain them in a way understood by all listeners.
More than one nomarch, or high official of the pharaoh, on learning that Pentuer was to celebrate a religious solemnity in the temple of Hator, envied the humblest priest, since he would hear a man inspired by divinities.
The priests who went forth to greet Pentuer felt sure that that dignitary would show himself in a court chariot, or in a litter borne by eight slaves. What was their amazement at beholding a lean ascetic, bareheaded, wearing a coarse garment, riding on a she ass, and unattended! He greeted them with great humility, and when they conducted him to the temple he made an offering to the divinity and went straightway to examine the place of the coming festival.
Thenceforth no one saw Pentuer, but in the temple and the adjoining courts there was an uncommon activity. Men brought costly furniture, grain, garments. A number of hundreds of pupils and workmen were freed from their employments; with these Pentuer shut himself up in the court and worked at preparations.
After eight days of hard labor he informed the high priest of Hator that all things were ready.
During this time Prince Rameses, who was hidden in his cell, gave himself up to prayer and fasting. At last on a certain date about three hours after midday a number of priests, arrayed in two ranks, came and invited him to the solemnity.
In the vestibule of the temple the high priest greeted the prince, and with him burned incense before the great statue of Hator. Then they turned to a low, narrow corridor, at the end of which a fire was burning. The air of the corridor was filled with the odor of pitch which was boiling in a kettle. Near the kettle, through an opening in the pavement, rose dreadful groans and curses.
“What does that mean?” inquired Rameses of a priest among those attending him.
The priest gave no answer; on the faces as far as could be seen emotion and terror were evident.
At this moment the high priest Mefres seized a great ladle, took boiling pitch from the kettle, and said in loud accents,—
“May all perish thus who divulge temple secrets!”
Next he poured pitch into the opening in the pavement, and from below came a roar,—
“Ye are killing me. Oh, if ye have in your hearts even a trace of compassion,” groaned a voice.
“May the worms gnaw thy body,” said Mentezufis, as he poured melted pitch into the opening.
“Dogs—jackals!” groaned the voice.
“May thy heart be consumed by fire and its ashes be hurled into the desert,” said the next priest, repeating the ceremony.
“O gods! is it possible to suffer as I do?” was the answer from beneath the pavement.
“May thy soul, with the image of its shame and its crime, wander onward through places where live happy people,” said a second priest; and he poured another ladle of burning pitch into the aperture.
“Oh, may the earth devour you!—mercy!—let me breathe!”
Before the turn came to Rameses the voice underground was silent.
“So do the gods punish traitors,” said the high priest of the temple to the viceroy.
The prince halted, and fixed on him eyes full of anger. It seemed to Rameses that he would burst out with indignation, and leave that assembly of executioners; but he felt a fear of the gods and advanced behind others in silence.
The haughty heir understood now that there was a power before which the pharaohs incline. He was seized by despair almost; he wished to flee, to renounce the throne. Meanwhile he held silence and walked on, surrounded by priests chanting prayers.
“Now I know,” thought he, “where people go who are unpleasant to the servants of divinity.” But this thought did not decrease his horror.
Leaving the narrow corridor full of smoke, the procession found itself on an elevation beneath the open sky. Below was an immense court surrounded on three sides by low buildings instead of a wall. From the place where the priests halted was a kind of amphitheatre with five broad platforms by which it was possible to pass along the whole court or to descend to the bottom.
In the court no one was present, but certain people were looking out of buildings.
The high priest Mefres, as chief dignitary in the assembly, presented Pentuer to the viceroy. The mild face of the asceticdid not harmonize with the horrors which had taken place in the corridor; so the prince wondered. To say something, he said to Pentuer,—
“It seems to me that I have met thee somewhere, pious father?”
“The past year at the manœuvres near Pi-Bailos. I was there with his worthiness Herhor.”
The resonant and calm voice of Pentuer arrested the prince. He had heard that voice on some uncommon occasion. But where and when had he heard it?
In every case the priest made an agreeable impression. If he could only forget the cries of that man whom they had covered with boiling pitch!
“We may begin,” said Mefres.
Pentuer went to the middle of the amphitheatre and clapped his hands. From the low buildings a crowd of female dancers issued forth, and priests came out with music, also with a small statue of the goddess Hator. The musicians preceded, the dancers followed, performing a sacred dance; finally the statue moved on surrounded by the smoke of censers. In this way they went around the court and stopping after every few steps, implored the divinity for a blessing, and asked evil spirits to leave the enclosure, where there was to be a solemnity full of secrets.
When the procession had returned to the buildings, Pentuer stepped forward. Dignitaries present to the number of two or three hundred gathered round him.
“By the will of his holiness the pharaoh,” began Pentuer, “and with consent of the supreme priestly power, we are to initiate the heir to the throne, Rameses, into some details of life in Egypt, details known only to the divinities who govern the country and the temples. I know, worthy fathers, that each of you would enlighten the young prince better in these things than I can; ye are full of wisdom, and the goddess Mut speaks through you. But since the duty has fallen on me, who in presence of you am but dust and a pupil, permit me to accomplish it under your worthy inspection and guidance.”
A murmur of satisfaction was heard among the learned priests at this manner. Pentuer turned to the viceroy.
“For some months, O servant of the gods, Rameses, as a traveller lost in the desert seeks a road, so thou art seeking an answer to the question: Why has the income of the holy pharaoh diminished, and why is it decreasing? Thou hast asked the nomarchs, and though they explained according to their power, thou wert not satisfied, though the highest human wisdom belongs to those dignitaries. Thou didst turn to the chief scribes, but in spite of their efforts these men were like birds in a net, unable to free themselves without assistance, for the reason of man, though trained in the school of scribes, is not in a position to take in the immensity of these questions. At last, wearied by barren explanations, thou didst examine the lands of the provinces, their people, the works of their hands, but didst arrive at nothing. For there are things of which people are silent as stones, but concerning which even stones will give answer if light from the gods only falls on them.
“When in this manner all these earthly powers and wisdoms disappointed thee, thou didst turn to the gods. Barefoot, thy head sprinkled with ashes, thou didst come in the guise of a penitent to this great sanctuary, where by means of suffering and prayer thou hast purified thy body and strengthened thy spirit. The gods—but especially the mighty Hator—listened to thy prayers, and through my unworthy lips give an answer, and mayst thou write it down in thy heart profoundly.”
“Whence does he know,” thought the prince, meanwhile, “that I asked the scribes and nomarchs? Aha! Mefres and Mentezufis told him. For that matter, they know everything.”
“Listen,” continued Pentuer, “and I will discover to thee, with permission of these dignitaries, what Egypt was four hundred years ago in the reign of the most glorious and pious nineteenth Theban dynasty, and what it is at present.
“When the first pharaoh of that dynasty, Ramen-Pehuti-Ramessu, assumed power over the country, the income of the treasury in wheat, cattle, beer, skins, vessels, and various articles rose to a hundred and thirty thousand talents. If a people had existed who could exchange gold for all these goods, the pharaoh would have had yearly one hundred and thirty-three thousand minas of gold.[15]And since one warrior cancarry on his shoulders the weight of twenty-six minas, about five thousand warriors would have been needed to carry that treasure.”
[15]Mina = one and a half kilograms.
[15]Mina = one and a half kilograms.
The priests whispered to one another without hiding their wonder. Even the prince forgot the man tortured to death beneath the pavement.
“To-day,” said Pentuer, “the yearly income of his holiness for all products of his land is worth only ninety-eight thousand talents. For these it would be possible to obtain as much gold as four thousand warriors could carry.”
“That the income of the state has decreased greatly, I know,” said Rameses, “but what is the cause of this?”
“Be patient, O servant of the gods,” replied Pentuer. “It is not the income of his holiness alone that is subject to decrease. During the nineteenth dynasty Egypt had under arms one hundred and eighty thousand warriors. If by the action of the gods every soldier of that time had been turned into a pebble the size of a grape—”
“That cannot be!” said Rameses.
“The gods can do anything,” answered Mefres, the high priest, severely.
“But better,” continued Pentuer, “if each soldier were to place on the ground one pebble, there would be one hundred and eighty thousand pebbles; and, look, worthy fathers, these pebbles would occupy so much space.” He pointed to a quadrangle of reddish color in the court. “In this figure the pebbles deposited by warriors of the time of Rameses I. would find their places. This figure is nine yards long and about five wide. This figure is ruddy; it has the color of Egyptian bodies, for in those days all our warriors were Egyptian exclusively.”
The priests began to whisper a second time. The prince frowned, for that seemed to him a reprimand, since he loved foreign soldiers.
“To-day,” said Pentuer, “we assemble one hundred and twenty thousand warriors with great difficulty. If each one of those cast his pebble on the ground, they would form a figure of this sort. Look this way, worthiness.” At the side of the first quadrangle lay a second of the same width, but considerablyshorter; its color was not uniform either, but was composed of a number of colors. “This figure,” said Pentuer, “is about five yards wide, but is only six yards in length. An immense number of men is now lacking,—our army has lost one-third of its warriors.”
“Wisdom of men like thee, O prophet, will bring more good to the state than an army,” interrupted the high priest.
Pentuer bent before him and continued,—
“In this new figure which represents the present army of the pharaoh ye see, worthy men, besides the ruddy color which designates Egyptians by blood, three other stripes,—black, white, and yellow. They represent mercenary divisions,—Ethiopians, Asiatics, Greeks, and Libyans. There are thirty thousand of them altogether, but they cost as much as fifty thousand Egyptians.”
“We must do away with foreign regiments at the earliest,” said Mefres. “They are costly, unsuitable, and teach our people infidelity and insolence. At present there are many Egyptians who do not fall on their faces before the priests; more, some of them have gone so far as to steal from graves and temples.”
“Therefore away with the mercenaries!” said Mefres, passionately. “The country has received from them nothing save harm, and our neighbors suspect us of hostile ideas.”
“Away with mercenaries! Dismiss these unruly infidels!” cried the priests.
“When in years to come, O Rameses, thou wilt ascend the throne,” added Mefres, “thou wilt fulfil this sacred duty to the gods and to Egypt.”
“Yes, fulfil it! free thy people from unbelievers!” cried the priests.
Rameses bent his head, and was silent. The blood flew to his heart. He felt that the ground was trembling under him.
He was to dismiss the best part of the army,—he, who would like to have twice as great an army and four times as many mercenary warriors.
“They are pitiless with me,” thought Rameses.
“Speak on, O Pentuer, sent down from heaven to us,” said Mefres.
“So then, holy men,” continued Pentuer, “we have learned of two misfortunes,—the pharaoh’s income has decreased, and his army is diminished.”
“What need of an army?” grumbled the high priest, shaking his head contemptuously.
“And now, with the favor of the gods and your permission, I will explain why it has happened thus, why the treasury will decrease further, and troops be still fewer in the future.”
The prince raised his head and looked at the speaker. He thought no longer now of the man put to death beneath the corridor.
Pentuer passed a number of steps along the amphitheatre, and after him the dignitaries.
“Do ye see at your feet that long, narrow strip of green with a broad triangular space at the end of it? On both sides of the strip lie limestone, granite, and, behind these, sandy places. In the middle of the green flows a stream, which in the triangular space is divided into a number of branches.”
“That is the Nile! That is Egypt!” cried the priests.
“But look,” interrupted Mefres, with emotion. “I will discover the river. Do ye see those two blue veins running from the elbow to the hand? Is not that the Nile and its canals, which begins opposite the Alabaster mountains and flows to Fayum? And look at the back of my hand: there are as many veins there as the sacred river has branches below Memphis. And do not my fingers remind you of the number of branches through which the Nile sends its waters to the sea?”
“A great truth!” exclaimed the priests, looking at their hands.
“Here, I tell you,” continued the excited high priest, “that Egypt is the trace of the arm of Osiris. Here on this land the great god rested his arm: in Thebes lay his divine elbow, his fingers reached the sea, and the Nile is his veins. What wonder that we call this country blessed!”
“Evidently,” said the priest, “Egypt is the express imprint of the arm of Osiris.”
“Has Osiris seven fingers on his hand,” interrupted the prince, “for the Nile has seven branches falling into the sea?”
Deep silence followed.
“Young man,” retorted Mefres, with kindly irony, “dost suppose that Osiris could not have seven fingers if it pleased him?”
“Of course he could!” said the other priests.
“Speak on, renowned Pentuer,” said Mentezufis.
“Ye are right, worthy fathers,” began Pentuer: “this stream with its branches is a picture of the Nile; the narrow strip of green bounded by stones and sand is Upper Egypt, and that triangular space, cut with veins, is a picture of Lower Egypt, the most extensive and richest part of the country.
“Well, in the beginning of the nineteenth dynasty, all Egypt, from the cataract to the sea, included five hundred thousand measures of land. On every measure lived sixteen persons: men, women, and children. But during four hundred succeeding years almost with each generation a piece of fertile soil was lost to Egypt.”
The speaker made a sign. A number of young priests ran out of the building and sprinkled sand on various parts of the green area.
“During each generation,” continued the priest, “fertile land diminished, and the narrow strip of it became much narrower. At present our country instead of five hundred thousand measures has only four hundred thousand—or during two dynasties Egypt has lost land which supported two millions of people.”
In the assembly again rose a murmur of horror.
“And dost thou know, O Rameses, servant of the gods, whither those spaces have vanished where on a time were fields of wheat and barley, or where flocks and herds pastured? Thou knowest that sands of the desert have covered them. But has any one told thee why this came to pass? It came to pass because there was a lack of men who with buckets and ploughs fight the desert from morning till evening. Finally, dost thou know why these toilers of the gods disappeared? Whither did they go? What swept them out of the country? Foreign wars did it. Our nobles conquered enemies, our pharaohs immortalized their worthy names as far away as the Euphrates River, but like beasts of burden our commonmen carried food for them, they carried water, they carried other weights, and died along the road by thousands.
“To avenge those bones scattered now throughout eastern deserts, the western sands have swallowed our fields, and it would require immense toil and many generations to win back that dark Egyptian earth from the sand grave which covers it.”
“Listen! listen!” cried Mefres, “some god is speaking through the lips of Pentuer. It is true that our victorious wars are the grave of Egypt.”
Rameses could not collect his thoughts. It seemed to him that mountains of sand were falling on his head at that moment.
“I have said,” continued Pentuer, “that great labor would be needed to dig out Egypt and restore the old-time wealth devoured by warfare. But have we the power to carry out that project?”
Again he advanced some steps, and after him the excited listeners. Since Egypt became Egypt, no one had displayed so searchingly the disasters of the country, though all men knew that they had happened.
“During the nineteenth dynasty Egypt had eight millions of inhabitants. If every man, woman, old man, and child had put down in this place one bean, the grains would make a figure of this kind.”
He indicated with his hand a court where one by the side of another lay eight great quadrangles covered with red beans.
“That figure is sixty yards long, thirty yards wide, and as ye see, pious fathers, the grains composing it are of the same kind, for the people of that time were from Egyptian grandfathers and great-grandfathers. But look now.”
He went farther, and indicated another group of quadrangles of various colors.
“Ye see this figure which is thirty yards wide, but only forty-five yards in length. Why is this? Because there are in it only six quadrangles, for at present Egypt has not eight, but only six millions of inhabitants. Consider, besides, that as the former figure was composed exclusively of red Egyptian beans, in the present one are immense strips of black, yellow, andwhite beans. For in our army and among the people there are now very many foreigners: black Ethiopians, yellow Syrians and Phœnicians, white Greeks and Libyans.”
They interrupted him. The priests who listened began to embrace him; Mefres was weeping.
“Never yet has there been such a prophet. One cannot imagine when he could make such calculations,” said the best mathematician in the temple of Hator.
“Fathers,” said Pentuer, “do not overestimate my services. Long years ago in our temples the condition of the state was represented in this manner. I have only disinterred that which later generations had in some degree forgotten.”
“But the reckoning?” asked the mathematician.
“The reckonings are continued unbrokenly in all the provinces and temples,” replied Pentuer. “The general amounts are found in the palace of his holiness.”
“But the figures?” exclaimed the mathematician.
“Our fields are arranged in just such figures, and the geometers of the state study them at school.”
“We know not what to admire most in this priest, his wisdom or his humility,” said Mefres. “Since we have such a man, the gods have not forgotten us.”
At that moment the guard watching on the pylons of the temple summoned those present to prayer.
“In the evening I will finish the explanations,” said Pentuer; “now I will say a few words in addition.
“Ye inquire, worthy fathers, why I use beans for these pictures. I do so because a grain put in the ground brings a harvest to the husbandmen yearly; so a man brings tribute every year to the treasury.
“If in any province two million less beans are sown than in past years, the following harvest will be notably less, and the earth-tillers will have a poorer income. In the state also, when two millions of population are gone, the inflow of taxes must diminish.”
Rameses listened with attention, and walked away in silence.
WHEN the priests and the heir to the throne returned to the courtyard in the evening, several hundred torches were gleaming so brightly that it was as clear there as in the daytime.
At a sign from Mefres there came out again a procession of musicians, dancers, and minor priests carrying a statue of the cow-headed Hator; and when they had driven away evil spirits, Pentuer began to explain again.
“Ye see, worthy fathers,” said he, “that since the time of the nineteenth dynasty a hundred thousand measures of land and two million people have vanished out of Egypt. This explains why the income of the state has decreased thirty-two thousand talents; that it has decreased is known to all of us.
“But this is only the beginning of misfortunes to the state and the treasury. Ninety-eight thousand talents of income apparently remain to his holiness. But do ye think that the pharaoh receives all this income?
“I will tell you what his worthiness Herhor discovered in the province of the Hare.
“During the nineteenth dynasty twenty thousand people dwelt in that province; they paid three hundred and fifty talents of yearly taxes. To-day there are hardly fifteen thousand, and these, of course, pay the treasury only two hundred and seventy talents. Meanwhile the pharaoh, instead of receiving two hundred and seventy talents, receives one hundred and seventy.
“‘Why is that?’ inquired Herhor; and this is what an investigation discovered: During the nineteenth dynasty there were in the district about one hundred officials, and these received each one thousand drachmas yearly salary. To-day in that same district, though the people have decreased, there are more than two hundred officials who receive two thousand five hundred drachmas yearly.
“It is unknown to his worthiness Herhor if this is the case in every district. But this much is certain, that the treasury ofthe pharaoh, instead of ninety-eight thousand talents annually, has only seventy-four thousand—”
“Say, worthy father, fifty thousand,” interrupted Rameses.
“I will explain that too,” replied Pentuer. “In every case remember, prince, that the pharaoh’s treasury pays to-day twenty-four thousand talents to officials, while it gave only ten thousand during the nineteenth dynasty.”
Deep silence reigned among the dignitaries, for more than one of them had a relative in office, well paid moreover. But Pentuer was unterrified.
“Now,” continued he, “I will show thee, O heir, the manner of life among officials, and the lot of common people in those old times and in our day.”
“Will it not take too much time? Besides, every man can see for himself,” murmured the priests, very promptly.
“I wish to know this,” said the prince, with decision.
The murmur ceased. Pentuer went down along the steps of the amphitheatre to the court, and after him went the prince, the high priests, Mefres and the others.
They halted before a long curtain of mats, forming as it were a palisade. At a sign from Pentuer some tens of minor priests hastened up with blazing torches. Another sign, and a portion of the curtain fell.
From the lips of those present came a shout of admiration. They had before them a brightly illuminated tableau in which about one hundred persons were the characters.
The tableau was divided into three stories; on the lower story stood earth tillers, on a higher were officials, and on the highest was the golden throne of the pharaoh resting on two lions whose heads were the arms of the throne.
“It was in this way,” said Pentuer, “during the nineteenth dynasty. Look at the earth-tillers. At their ploughs ye see sometimes oxen, sometimes asses; their picks, spades, and shovels are bronze, and hence are lasting. See what stalwart men they are! To-day one could find such only in the guard of his holiness. Their hands and feet are strong, their breasts full, their faces smiling. All are bathed and anointed with olive oil. Their wives are occupied in preparing food and clothing or in washing house utensils; the children are at school or are playing.
“The laborer of that time, as ye see, ate wheaten bread, beans, flesh, fish, and fruit; he drank beer or wine, and see how beautiful were the plates and pitchers. Look at the caps, aprons, and capes of the men: all adorned with various-colored needlework. Still more beautifully embroidered were the skirts of women. And note how carefully they combed their hair, what brooches, earrings, and bracelets they had. Those ornaments were made of bronze and colored enamel; even gold was found among them, though only in the form of wire.
“Raise now your eyes to officials. They wore mantles, but every laborer wore just such a dress on holidays. They lived exactly as did laborers,—that is, in sufficiency, but modestly. Their furniture was ornamented somewhat more than that of laborers, and gold rings were found oftener in their caskets. They made journeys on asses, or in cars drawn by oxen.”
Pentuer clapped his hands and on the stage there was movement. The laborers gave the officials baskets of grapes, bags of barley, peas and wheat, jugs of wine, beer, milk and honey, game and stuffs, many pieces white or colored. The officials took these products, kept a portion for themselves, but the choicest and most costly they put up higher, for the throne. The platform where stood the symbol of the pharaoh’s power was covered with products which formed as it were a small mountain.
“Ye see, worthy men,” said Pentuer, “that in those times, when earth-tillers were satisfied and wealthy, the treasury of his holiness could hardly find place for the gifts of his subjects. But see what is happening in our day.”
At a new signal a second part of the curtain fell, and another tableau appeared, similar to the preceding in general outline.
“Here are our laborers of the present,” said Pentuer, and in his voice indignation was evident. “Their bodies are skin and bones, they look like sick persons, they are filthy and have forgotten to anoint themselves with olive oil, but their backs are wounded from beating.
“Neither oxen nor asses are near them, for what need is there of those beasts if ploughs are drawn by women and children? Picks and shovels are wooden, they spoil easily and that increases men’s labor. They have no clothes whatever;only women wear coarse shirts, and not even in a dream do they look at embroidery, though their grandfathers and grandmothers wore it.
“Look now at the food of the earth-tillers. At times barley and dried fish, lotus seed always, rarely a wheat cake, never flesh, beer, or wine.
“Ask them where their utensils and furniture are. They have none, unless a pitcher for water; nothing could find room in the dens which they inhabit.
“Pardon me now for that to which I turn your attention: Over there a number of children are lying on the ground; that means that they are dead. It is wonderful how many children of laborers die from toil and hunger. And those that die are the happiest, for they who survive go under the club of the overseer, or are sold to the Phœnician as lambs to the—”
Emotion stopped his voice; he rested awhile, and then continued amid the angry silence of the priesthood,—
“And now look at the officials,—how animated they are in rouge, how beautiful their clothes are! Their wives wear gold bracelets and earrings, and such fine garments that princes might envy them. Among laborers not an ox or an ass is now visible, but to make up officials journey on horseback or in litters. They drink only wine, and that of good quality.”
He clapped his hands, and again there was movement. The laborers gave the officials bags of wheat, baskets of fruit, wine, game. These objects the officials as before placed near the throne, but in quantities considerably smaller. On the pharaoh’s platform there was no longer a mountain of products, but the platform of the officials was covered.
“This is the Egypt of our day,” continued Pentuer. “Laborers are in indigence, scribes are wealthy, the treasury is not so full as it once was. But now—”
He gave a sign, and a thing unexpected took place there before them.
Certain hands seized grain, fruit, stuffs from the platforms of the pharaoh and the officials; and when the amount of the goods had decreased greatly, those same hands began to seize and lead away laborers, their wives and children.
The spectators looked with amazement at the peculiarmethods of those mysterious persons. Suddenly some one cried out,—
“Those are Phœnicians! They plunder us in that way.”
“That is it, holy fathers,” said Pentuer. “Those are the hands of Phœnicians concealed in the midst of us; they plunder the pharaoh and the scribes, and lead away laborers captive when there is nothing to drag from them.”
“Yes! They are jackals! A curse on Phœnicians! Expel them, the wretches!” cried the priests. “It is they who inflict the greatest damage on Egypt.”
Not all, however, shouted in that way.
When there was silence, Pentuer commanded to take the torches to the other side of the court, and thither he conducted his hearers. There were no tableaux there, but a kind of industrial exhibition.
“Be pleased to look,” said he. “During the nineteenth dynasty foreigners sent us these things: we received perfumes from Punt; gold, iron weapons, and chariots of war came from Syria. That is all.
“But Egypt manufactured in those days. Look at these immense pitchers,—how many forms, and what a variety of colors.
“Or the furniture: that armchair was made of ten thousand pieces of gold, mother-of-pearl, and woods of various hues. Look at the robes of that period: what embroidery, what delicacy of material, how many colors! And the bronze swords, the brooches, bracelets, earrings and implements of tillage and crafts of various descriptions. All these were made in this country during the nineteenth dynasty.”
He passed to the next group of objects.
“But to-day, look: the pitchers are small and almost without ornament, the furniture is simple, the stuffs coarse and devoid of variety. Not one thing made to-day can we compare as to shape, durability, or beauty with those of former ages. Why has this happened?”
He advanced a number of steps again, surrounded by torches.
“Here is a great number of things,” said he, “which the Phœnicians bring us from various regions. Some tens of kinds of incense, colored glass, furniture, vessels, woven stuffs,chariots, ornaments,—all these come from Asia and are bought by us.
“Do ye understand now, worthy fathers, why the Phœnicians tear away grain, fruit, and cattle from the scribes and the pharaoh? In pay for those foreign goods which have destroyed our artisans as locusts destroy vegetation.
“Among things obtained through Phœnicians for his holiness, the nomarchs, and the scribes, gold has the first place.
“This kind of commerce is the most accurate picture of calamities inflicted on Egypt by Asia.
“When a man borrows gold to the amount of one talent, he is obliged in three years to return two talents. But most frequently the Phœnicians, under pretext of decreasing trouble for the debtor, assure payment in their own way: that is, debtors for each talent borrowed give them as tenants for three years two measures of land and thirty-two people.
“See there, worthy fathers,” said he, pointing to a part of the court which was better lighted. “That square of land one hundred and ten yards in length and as wide signifies two measures; the men, women, and children of that crowd mean eight families. All that together: people and land pass for three years into dreadful captivity. During that time their owner, the pharaoh or a nomarch, has no profit at all from them; at the end of that term he receives the land back exhausted, and of the people, twenty in number at the very highest, the rest have died under torture!”
Those present shuddered with horror.
“I have said that the Phœnician takes two measures of land and thirty-two people for three years in exchange for one talent. See what a space of land and what a crowd of people; look now at my hand.
“This piece of gold which I grasp here, this lump, less than a hen’s egg in size, is a talent.
“Can you estimate the complete insignificance of the Phœnicians in this commerce? This small lump of gold has no real value: it is yellow, it is heavy, a man cannot eat it,—and that is the end of the matter. A man does not clothe himself with gold and he cannot stop his hunger or thirst with it. If he had a lump of gold as big as the pyramid, he would be as poorat the foot of it as a Libyan wandering through the western desert where there is neither a date nor a drop of water.
“And see, for a piece of this barren metal a Phœnician takes a piece of land which suffices to feed and clothe thirty-two people, and besides that he takes the people. For three years he exercises power over beings who know how to cultivate land, gather in grain, make flour and beer, weave garments, build houses, and make furniture.
“At the same time the pharaoh or the nomarch is deprived for three years of the services of those people. They pay him no tribute, they carry no burdens for the army, but they toil to give income to the greedy Phœnician.
“Ye know, worthy fathers, that at present there is not a year during which in this or that province an insurrection does not break out among laborers exhausted by hunger, borne down by toil, or beaten with sticks. And some of those men perish, others are sent to the quarries, while the country is depopulated more and more for this reason only, that the Phœnician gave a lump of gold to some landowner! Is it possible to imagine greater misery? And is Egypt not to lose land and people yearly under such conditions? Victorious wars undermined Egypt, but Phœnician gold-dealers are finishing it.”
On the faces of the priests satisfaction was depicted; they were more willing to hear of the guile of Phœnicians than the excesses of scribes throughout Egypt.
Pentuer rested awhile, then he turned to the viceroy.
“For some months,” said he, “Rameses, O servant of the gods, thou hast been inquiring why the income of his holiness is diminished. The wisdom of the gods has shown thee that not only the treasure has decreased but also the army, and that both those sources of royal power will decrease still further. And the end will be utter ruin for this country, unless heaven sends down a ruler who will stop the inundation of misery which for some hundreds of years is overwhelming Egypt.
“The treasury of the pharaohs was full when we had more land and people. We must win back from the desert the fertile lands which it has swallowed, and remove from the people those burdens which weaken and kill them.”
The priests were alarmed again, lest Pentuer might mention scribes for the second time.
“Thou hast seen, prince, with thy own eyes and before witnesses, that in the epoch when people were well nourished, stalwart, and satisfied, the treasury of the pharaoh was full. But when people began to look wretched, when they were forced to plough with their wives and children, when lotus seed took the place of wheat and flesh, the treasury grew needy. If thou wish therefore to bring the state to that power which it had before the wars of the nineteenth dynasty, if thou desire that the pharaoh, his scribes, and his army should live in plenty, assure long peace to the land and prosperity to the people. Let grown persons eat flesh again and dress in embroidered garments, and let children, instead of groaning and dying under blows, play, or go to school.
“Remember, finally, that Egypt bears within its bosom a deadly serpent.”
Those present listened with fear and curiosity.
“That serpent which is sucking at the blood of the people, the property of the nomarchs, and the power of the pharaoh is the Phœnician!”
“Away with the Phœnicians!” cried the priests. “Blot out all debts to them. Admit not their ships and merchants.”
Silence was enforced by the high priest Mefres, who with tears in his eyes turned to Pentuer.
“I doubt not,” said he, “that the holy Hator is speaking through thy lips to us. Not only because no man could be so wise and all-knowing as thou art, but besides I have seen two flames, as horns, above thy forehead. I thank thee for the great words with which thou hast dispelled our ignorance. I bless thee, and I pray the gods when I am summoned before them to make thee my advocate.”
An unbroken shout from the rest of the assembly supported the blessing of the highest dignitary. The priests were the better satisfied, since alarm had hung over them lest Pentuer might refer to the scribes a second time. But the sage knew how to restrain himself: he indicated the internal wound of the state, but he did not inflame it, and therefore his triumph was perfect.
Prince Rameses did not thank Pentuer, he only dropped his head to his own bosom. No one doubted, however, that thediscourse of the prophet had shaken the soul of the heir, and that it was a seed from which prosperity and glory might spring up for Egypt.
Next morning Pentuer, without taking farewell of any, left the temple at sunrise and journeyed away in the direction of Memphis.
For a number of days Prince Rameses held converse with no man, he meditated; he sat in his cell, or walked up and down the shady corridors. Work in his soul was progressing.
In reality Pentuer had declared no new truth; all had been complaining of the decrease of land and people in Egypt, of the misery of workmen, the abuses of scribes, and the extortion of Phœnicians. But the discourse of the prophet had given them tangible forms, and illustrated facts very clearly.
The Phœnicians terrified the prince; he had not estimated till that time the enormity of the misfortunes brought on people of Egypt by those merchants. His horror was all the more vivid, since he had rented out his own subjects to Dagon, and was himself witness of the way in which the banker collected his dues from them.
But his entanglement in the business of Phœnicians produced strange results in Rameses. He did not wish to think of Phœnicians, and whenever anger flamed up in his mind against those strangers the feeling of shame was destroyed in him. He was in a certain sense their confederate. Meanwhile he understood perfectly how serious the decrease was in land and in people, and on this he placed the main emphasis in his lonely meditation.
“If we had,” said he to himself, “those two millions of people lost by Egypt, we might through help from them win back those fertile lands from the desert, we might even extend those lands. And then in spite of Phœnicians our laborers would be in a better condition, and there would be also increase in the income of Egypt. But where can we find men?”
Chance gave the answer.
On a certain evening the prince, while walking through the gardens of the temple, met a crowd of captives whom Nitager had seized on the eastern boundary and sent to the goddess Hator. Those people were perfectly built, they did more workthan Egyptians, and they did it because they were properly nourished, hence even satisfied with their position.
When he saw them, his mind was cleared as if by a lightning flash. He almost lost presence of mind from emotion. The country needs men, many men,—hundreds of thousands, even a million, two millions. And here are men! The only need was to turn to Asia, seize all whom they might meet on the road, and send them to Egypt. War must continue till so many were taken that every earth-tiller from the cataract to the sea might have his own bondman.
Thus rose a plan, colossal and simple, thanks to which Egypt would find population, the earth-tillers aid in their labor, and the treasury of the pharaoh an endless source of income.
The prince was enchanted, though next day a new doubt sprang up in him.