 | LETTER XX. The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage |  |
20. LETTER XX.
The excitement, which the return of the triumphant
army from its brilliant Ethiopian campaign created,
has now subsided, and the cities of Memphis and On,
and the thousand villages in the valley of the Nile, have
returned to their ordinary quiet, interrupted only by religious
processions, the music of a banquet, or the festivities
of a marriage. In this delicious climate, where
there is no particular incentive to action, the general
state of the people is one of indolence and leisure. The
chief business, at the marts and quays, is over before the
sun is at meridian; and during the remainder of the
day, shade and repose are coveted. But when the sun
sinks westward, and hangs low over the brown hills of
Libya, this inaction ceases, and all classes, in their best
apparel and most cheerful looks, fill the streets, the
groves, the gardens, the walks and avenues along the
river; and the spirit of enjoyment and life reigns.
One evening, not long since, I strolled along the
banks of the Nile, beneath a row of mimosa-trees, to
enjoy the gay and attractive scenes upon the river. It
family parties, whose musicians played for them as the
rowers slowly and idly propelled the boat; others, in
sharp-prowed barisæ, darted in emulous races across the
water; others were suspended upon the bosom of the
stream, fishing for amusement; while others still moved
about, with their beautifully pictured sails spread to the
gentle breeze, as if enjoying the panorama of the shores
they were gliding past.
I had rambled alone some distance up the river, without
any vestige of my rank being apparent, in the plain
Phœnician costume of a Tyrian merchant (which I often
wear, to prevent constant interruption by the homage
and prostrations of the deferent Egyptians), when I saw
a small baris, containing a single person, coming close
to the steps of the extensive terrace of one of the numerous
temples of the image of Apis, which here faced
the Nile, separated from it only by a double row of
sphinxes. It was rowed by four Nubian slaves, clad in
white linen vests and fringed loin-cloths, each having a
red cap upon his head.
As the boat approached the marble steps, a decorated
and unusually elegant galley, containing three young
men of rank, as their dress and the emblems on their
mast indicated, was coming swiftly down the stream, as
if the owner strove to display the fleetness of his vessel
before the eyes of the thousands who looked on. The
pilot, at the lofty helm, called out to the baris to move
quicker away from the line of his course; but either the
rowers failed to hear or to comprehend, for they did
not turn their heads. On like the wind came the galley.
I called aloud to the person who sat in the stern of the
a portion of which lay unrolled at his feet.
He looked up quickly, and saw, first me, and then,
by the direction of my finger, his danger. Before, however,
he could give orders to his rowers, I heard one of
the young men say to the pilot, who was changing his
course a little—
“Keep right on! It is but a Hebrew; and it would
be a favor to the gods to drown a thousand a day.”
The pilot obeyed his lord, and the bronze hawk-head
of the gilded galley struck the boat near the stern, nearly
capsizing it, and then the whole armament of twelve
oars passed over it, striking overboard two of the slaves,
as the twenty-four oarsmen swept the galley along at
the height of its speed. I expected to see the priest,
for such his costume betrayed him, also pressed down
by the long oars, under which, like a low roof of inclined
rafters, he was entangled; but stooping low until
his forehead touched the book on his knee, the sweeps
passed harmlessly over him, and when the galley had
gone by, he recovered his sitting posture, maintaining,
the while, a composure and dignity that made me marvel.
His dark, handsome, oriental face betrayed scarcely any
emotion at the danger or the indignity. Seeing that one
of the slaves was swimming ashore, and that the other
rose no more, he waved his hand to the remaining two
who had fallen into the bottom of the boat, and who,
recovering their oars, pulled him to the steps.
“A Hebrew!” repeated I to myself. “Truly, and the
very likeness of Remeses, save that his hair is of a
browner hue, and his beard tinged with a golden light.
A Hebrew! What philosophy under insult and peril!
evinced by the haughty Egyptian noble! A Hebrew,
and a priest!”
Such were the reflections to which I gave utterance,
in an under-tone.
He debarked, and giving an order to the slaves,
placed his scroll of papyrus beneath his robe, and,
ascending the steps, bowed low, and with singular courtesy
(for the Hebrews, mother, are naturally the most
polished and benignant people in the world), said in the
Phœnician tongue—
“I am indebted to you, sir merchant, for my life!
Your timely voice enabled me to save myself, although
I have lost one of the poor Nubian lads. Accept my
gratitude!”
I could not remove my eyes from his face. It fascinated
me! It seemed to be Remeses himself speaking
to me; yet the hair of the prince is raven-black, and
his beard also, while this man's is a rich brown, and his
fine beard like a golden river. The eyes of Remeses
are black, with a mild expression naturally, as if they
were animated by a gentle spirit; while those of the
priest are hazel, or rather a brilliant bronze, and full of
the light of courage and of ardent fire. In person he
is just the height of Remeses—carried his head in the
same imperial manner, as if born to command; and the
tones of his voice are marked by that rich emotional
cadence—winning the ear and touching the heart—
which characterizes the prince. His step is firm and
commanding—his motions self-poised and dignified. He
seems three or four years older than Remeses; but
the likeness of the features, and the entire presence of
mind, on the occasion of which I speak, that I said
mentally—“Were the Prince Remeses a Hebrew, or
were this Hebrew an Egyptian, I should think them
cousins, if not brothers!”
Pardon me, dear mother, for thus speaking of a royal
personage; but I only make use of the language, to express
to you how wonderful in every way, save in the
color of hair and eyes, is the resemblance of this man
to the prince.
“I did but a common duty to a fellow-being,” was
my reply. “But why did you address me in Syriac?”
“Are you not a Syrian merchant?” he asked, looking
at me more closely, after I had spoken.
“I am from Tyre,” I answered. “You are a Hebrew?”
“Yes,” was his reply, casting down his eyes and moving
past me towards the temple.
“Stay one moment,” I said. He turned and regarded
me with a look of surprise; just such an one as the Hebrew
woman Miriam,—to whom also, dear mother, he
bore a very striking resemblance,—gave me when I
irresistibly addressed her, in the courteous tone I would
have used towards any of her sex: such was my tone in
speaking to this Hebrew; for although his dress showed
that he was only a neophyte, or attendant with secular
duties, yet the man himself commanded my respect.
“May I inquire, without offence, why I see a Hebrew
in the service of religion?”
“When we are only degraded slaves, and brick and
clay workers, and worship not the gods of Egypt?” he
answered interrogatively; and I imagined I detected a
caused by a keen sense of the degradation of which he
spake.
“You have expressed my motives,” I replied. “If
you are proceeding along the avenue of sphinxes, I will
accompany you, as I am merely loitering.”
“Will you be seen walking with a Hebrew, my lord
prince?” he said, significantly.
“You know my rank, then?”
“Your language betrays you; merchants do not speak
as you do. Besides, the signet of Prince Remeses, on
your hand, designates your rank. I have, moreover,
heard you described by one, who will never forget that
the first words of kindness he ever received, save from
his kinsfolk, fell upon his ears from your lips, O Prince
of Tyre!”
“Who is he?” I asked with interest.
“The lad Israel, whom you assisted in restoring to
animation by the well of Jacob the Shepherd!”
“At the strangers' fountain!” I repeated. “This
little act seems to be known to all the Hebrews!”
“Not to all, but to a few,” he answered; “yet it will
be heard of by all of them; for kindness and sympathy
from any one, especially from a foreign prince, is so
strange an event that it will fly from lip to ear. Your
name, O noble Sesostris, will be engraven in every memory,
and the sound thereof warm hope in every heart!”
He spoke with deep feeling. We walked some distance
side by side without speaking. After a few moments'
silence I said—
“Where is the youth Israel?”
“With his people near Raamses.”
“I am to receive him into my service.”
“He will faithfully serve you, my lord prince. He
is of my kindred, and I shall be grateful to you for protecting
his weakness. Every shoulder in Israel cannot
bear the burden!”
“Are you then of the family of Miriam?” I asked,
recollecting that the ritual transcriber, in the palace of
the hierarch, had also claimed kindred with the son of
the venerable Ben Isaac.
“Miriam the scribe?”
“In the service of Luxora and Osiria, of Memphis.”
“She is my sister.”
“I would have said it!” I answered. “Is your father
living?”
“He is in charge of the queen's flower-garden in On.”
“I know him,” I answered.
“It is he who has spoken of you to me, as well as the
aged Ben Isaac, young Israel, and Miriam. Therefore
did I at once recognize you, when your polished words
led me to see that you were in rank above chief pilots
and governors of galleys.”
“Will you reply to my inquiry? for, as we know each
other's friends, we need not now discourse wholly as
strangers. How came you, being a Hebrew, to become
a priest? Do not you Hebrews worship the One Infinite
Maker and Upholder of worlds?”
“There are a few who retain, unmixed with superstition
and idol-worship, the knowledge of the one God of
our ancestors Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph; but this
knowledge is confined, chiefly, to the descendants of one
man, Levi; and only to a few of these. The residue are
little better than the Egyptians.”
“Art thou of the family of this Levi?” I asked.
“I am. We are more given to study than our brethren,
and seek knowledge and wisdom. Hence it is,
that some of our tribe are taken from the labor of the
field to serve the priests. We are ready writers, skilful
with the stylus and the coloring pencil, and our lot
is preferable to that of others, who are more ignorant.
Hence you behold me a servitor in an Egyptian temple!”
“Hast thou long been in this service?” I asked, as we
stopped in the shade of the pyramidion of an obelisk, in
front of the temple porch.
“From a child.”
“So early! Then thou hast not borne the toils of thy
people.”
“I was discovered upon the banks of the Nile, in my
fourth year, near the Island of Rhoda, weeping bitterly;
for I had seen my mother commit my infant brother to
a basket and launch it upon the river; and observing it
borne down by the current, young as I was, I so felt all
its danger, that I ran as well as I could along the shore
crying piteously, when a priest (who has made known to
me the incident) seeing me, took pity upon me, and noticing
that I was a Hebrew child led me away, pacifying
me by saying that I should see my brother. From that
time I have been an inmate of the temple; for my mother
seeing him take me away followed, and as he promised
he would rear me as his own son, and that I should see
her weekly, she yielded me up to him with reluctant
gladness; for, my lord prince, in that day the children
of Hebrew parents were not safe even at home, an edict
having been published commanding all male infants to
a slight tenure, and seeing that the protection of a priest
would insure my safety, and spare me the toils to which
the little ones of our nation were early condemned, my
parents readily acquiesced in the wishes of the priest.”
“Was thy infant brother lost?” I asked with interest.
“Yes, without doubt. Like hundreds of other innocents,
he perished.”
“Might he not have been saved by some one as compassionate
as your friendly priest?”
“Who would dare to save a child from the king's
edict of death? Not one, unless it had been the king's
daughter! All his subjects trembled at his power.”
“I have heard of that cruel command of Pharaoh
Amunophis,” I answered. “What is your office in this
noble temple?” I asked, surveying the majestic edifice,
before which stood a black statue of Apis, the size of
life.
“My office is not that of a priest, though it is priestly.
I write books of papyrus for the dead. I cast images, in
gold, of the young calf Apis. I interpret hieroglyphics,
make copies of the tables of rituals, and keep a list of the
sacred scrolls. I also study foreign tongues, and transcribe
from their books the wisest codes and most
solemn forms of worship.”
“Yours is an office of trust and honor,” I said.
“It is, through the favor of the venerable priest, who
is my benefactor, and to whom I am as a son,” he answered.
“If you will now enter the temple with me, I
will show you the casting-room of sacred images; for my
duty is there, during the next four hours.”
I thanked the courteous Hebrew, and ascending the
By a side corridor, we reached a small court lined with
alabastron, in which three priests were pacing up and
down, reading and meditating.
Not being noticed at all by them, I was conducted by
the stately Hebrew into a chamber, which was the vestibule
to a large apartment, whither we descended by
eight steps, that led to a large brazen door with two
leaves. This was secured; but a small side door admitted
us into a vast subterranean room, which I saw was
a place for casting. Numerous workmen were busy
about heated furnaces: some blowing the fire beneath
crucibles for melting gold; some weighing gold and delivering
it to the smiths; and others washing gold. Some
were casting small images of Apis in moulds, while a
superintendent moved up and down, dressed in the close
robes of vesture priests wear, when not performing duties
at the altar. It was a scene of busy toil and constant
activity.
“This,” said my guide, “is the casting-chamber of
the temple. Each of us has his departments. It is
mine, to oversee the mixing of gold with the proper
alloy, and I have a scribe who records the results.
Here, you see, is a life-size image of Apis, when he
was a calf. It is for the temple at Bubastis, of the
Delta. There you behold a mould for one of larger
size, ordered for the shrine at Osymandyes.”
“Do you never cast any figures of the size of Apis?”
I asked, looking about me in amazement at this extraordinary
scene.
“Not of gold,” he answered, conducting me through
the vast room in which fourscore men were at work.
near the pyramid Dendara. The gods of this temple
are in great repute throughout all Egypt. They are
consecrated here before they are sent away, with ancient
rites, known only to the priesthood of this shrine.
Come with me into this side apartment.”
I followed him through a passage having double-doors
of brass, and found myself in a room full of vases, each
one of which contained a quantity of jewelry, consisting
of rings for the fingers and thumb, ear-rings, bracelets,
flower-holders of gold, necklaces, and signets, all of
gold.
“These are sent here from various temples in the different
nomes, out of which, after melting them, we cast
images of the size demanded.”
In another room the intelligent Hebrew exhibited to
me a great number of small figures of Apis, of gold of
Havilah, which is remarkably beautiful from its deep
orange-color. These figures, though not a palm long,
were valued at a talent. On all these images of the
sacred calf, I perceived that the mark of the crescent
between the shoulders was distinctly imitated, as well
as the other peculiarities. Upon the head of some of
them was a sun enwreathed by the sacred uræus.
“Does your temple derive a revenue from all this?”
I asked the Hebrew.
“There is a tithe retained from all the gold that is
sent hither, for the expenses of the temple,” he answered.
We now turned aside to see men grinding to powder
an old image of Apis, of solid gold of Ophir. The image
had been in the hands of the Ethiopians, and being
was regarded as accursed until this were done. This
process is effected by the free use of natron, and is an
art known only to the Egyptians. The dust is then
washed in consecrated water. In taste, I am told, it is
exceeding bitter and nauseous. Thus gold, as a drink,
would not be coveted by men.
We next came to a flight of stairs which led to a
paved hall surrounded by columns, and thence a door
led into a small garden, where three majestic palms
towered high above the columns that inclosed it; while
a fountain ceaselessly let fall its refreshing rain, in a
vast shallow vase, wherein gold and silver fishes glanced
in the light.
It was now near the close of day, and I began to
thank him for his courtesy, when he said—
“Do not leave now, O prince. This is my apartment,
and the one opposite is that of the aged priest,
my benefactor. Enter, and let me have water for thy
feet and hands, and place before thee some refreshment;
for it is a long walk back to the palace where
thou art sojourning.”
Willing to learn all I could of the remarkable Hebrew
people, who seem to be a nation of princes as
well as of bondmen, I accepted his invitation, and entered
a cool porch, from which opened a handsome but
simply furnished apartment, where he lodged. I seated
myself upon a stone bench, when, at a signal made by
him, two black slaves approached with ewers of water,
one for the hands, and the other with a silver basin for
my feet. Each of them had thrown over his shoulder a
napkin of the finest linen. But upon the vessels, the
which showed that they were all the property of the
temple.
At length fruit, and wheaten bread, and fish, were
laid before me. The Hebrew stood while I partook,
declining to eat with me, saying that his nation never
broke bread with any but their own people; adding,
“and the Egyptians regard it as infamy to sit down
with us.”
“I have no such prejudices,” I said, with a smile.
When I had eaten, and laved my fingers in a crystal
vase, which the priest placed before me, and the Nubians
had retired, I said, “My meeting with you has
been a source of great pleasure to me. I am deeply
interested in your nation. As a Syrian we are not far
from a kindred origin, and as a foreigner I have none of
the feelings which, as masters, the Egyptians entertain
towards a Hebrew. I have witnessed the working of
the deep-seated prejudice in a variety of ways, and cannot
but wonder at it. From all I can learn of your
history, you have never been at war with them, nor
wronged them.”
“We are unfortunate, unarmed, and weak; and the
greater ever oppress the helpless,” he answered.
“Do you feel no resentment?”
“The bondage of one hundred and seventy years has
graven the lines of patience deep in our hearts. Forbearance
has become a second nature to the Hebrew.
But, my lord prince, I feel that this will not always be,”
he added. “The time cannot be far off, when Egypt, for
her own safety, will give us our liberty and the privileges
of citizens. We are not a race of bondmen, like
were princes in Syria; and was not Joseph the ruler of
Egypt for sixty-one years, during the long reign of Pharaoh-Apophis?
Not long after the Theban dynasty,
which now rules the two Egypts, assumed the double
crown, did our degradation begin.”
“Doubtless a change in your condition must ere long
take place,” I said. “There must be leaders among
you. Not all the suffering of your oppression has destroyed
the princely air among many of your people.”
“But not one Hebrew is trained to war, or knows the
use of any sort of weapon. For three generations, we
have been a laboring, patient, unarmed people. If, here
and there, one rises above the masses, it is by accident
or favor, or from interest on the part of those who employ
us. I have said that the family from which I
spring is skilled in letters and art, and is ambitious of
the learning of the Egyptians, and of becoming scribes
and copyists to the priests. Others among us, of the sons
of Dan, are skilful boatmen; others are builders; while
others prefer the culture of the field, or the tending of
flocks. We were twelve princes—brethren—in the ancient
days, and the descendants of each are remarkable
for some special skill; and the Egyptian taskmasters
having discerned this aptitude, distribute them to their
work accordingly. We are not all brick-makers, though
four fifths of the nation are reduced to that degraded
toil—all, of every tribe or family, who are not skilful in
some art, being driven into the field. Of late years, the
Egyptian artificers have made such great outcries, to the
effect that the Hebrews were filling the places of their
own workmen, that the chief governor of the Hebrews
thousands into the brick-fields, who had never before
encountered such heavy toil. The result is, that hundreds
perish, and that youths like Israel sink hourly
under their unendurable sufferings.”
“Have you no gods—no ear to hear your prayers?”
I asked impulsively, as I am apt to do, dear mother,
when my feelings are deeply moved. “Have you no
worship? I hear of no altar or temple.”
“A few among us have mysteries, such as the existence
of One God; that He is a spirit; that all men are
His offspring; and that we must be just in order to please
Him. But I must confess, O prince,” he said, sadly, “that
we have very little knowledge, even the best among
us, of the God in whose existence we profess to believe.
It is easier to serve and trust to the visible gods of Egypt;
and our people, from the depths of their misery, stretch
forth their clay-soiled hands to Osiris, to Pthah, to the
images of Apis, and cry, `Deliver us, O gods of Egypt,
deliver us from our bondage!' They have cried to the
invisible God of Abraham in vain, and they now cry
in vain to the gods of the land, also. Neither hear—
neither answer; and they sink into blank despair, without
any hope left in a god—a nation of infidel slaves!”
“Can this be a true picture?” I said.
“Nearly so. Even I, O prince, under the ever-present
power of the religion to which this temple is upreared,—I,
from the influence of example, from ignorance
of the worship of the Hebrew God of Isaac, from the
education of my life, am half an Egyptian. The religion
of Egypt appeals to the senses, and these, in most men,
are far stronger than the imagination; and we Hebrews
but that He has deserted and left us, their miserable descendants,
under the yoke of oppressors. Is it any wonder
that the wisest of us turn to the gods of Egypt? If
the Egyptians can be happy, and cherish hope, and die
in peace under their faith, let us also seek its shelter, and
let their gods be our gods! Such is the prevailing language
and growing feeling of our people.”
This was all said in a tone of sadness and bitterness;
while that despair of which he spoke, cast its shadow
heavily over his noble countenance. I arose soon afterwards,
and took my leave of him, more and more deeply
interested, dear mother, in the history and condition of
this singular people.
| LETTER XX. The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage | |