 | LETTER XXIII. The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage |  |
23. LETTER XXIII.
I embrace the first leisure I can command, since
closing my last letter, to resume the subject which filled
its pages.
This letter, however, I shall withhold, until I either
have authority to send it to you, or circumstances render
it expedient to destroy it; but in order to keep a
record of the events now transpiring, I write them down
in the shape of an epistle to my dear mother, so that
hereafter, if it be necessary to refer to it for facts, there
may be written evidence of them.
The letter of Prince Mœris, which the queen placed
in my hands, was dated some years back, and, no doubt,
on noticing this, my countenance betrayed surprise; for
she said quickly—
“Read that first. I conceal nothing from you. You
shall know from the beginning.”
By permission of her majesty, I took a copy of the
letter, and of the two that follow. It was dated—
“To Amense, Queen:
“Your Majesty,—I address my letter to you from
this petty castle, though, albeit, the stronghold of your
For a subject, this would be a post of honor.
For me, the son of your husband's brother, your royal
nephew, it is but an honorable exile from a court where
you fear my presence. Honorable, do I say?—rather,
dishonorable; for am I not a prince of the blood of
the Pharaohs? But let this pass, your majesty. I
do not insist upon any thing based upon mere lineage.
I feel that I was aggrieved by the birth of Remeses. I
see that you turn pale. Do not do so yet. You must
read further before the blood wholly leaves your cheek.
I repeat, I am aggrieved by the `birth of Remeses.'
You see I quote the last three words. Ere you close
this letter, your majesty will know why I mark them
thus. Your husband, the vicegerent of the Thisitic
kingdom of the South, after leaving his capital, Thebes,
at the head of a great army, died like a soldier descended
from a line of a thousand warrior kings, in
combat with the Ethiopian. I was then, for your majesty
was without offspring, the heir to the throne of
Egypt. I was the son of your husband's younger
brother. Though but three years old when your lord
was slain, I had learned the lesson that I was to be king
of Egypt, when I became a man. But to the surprise
of all men, of your council of priests, and your cabinet
of statesmen, lo! you soon afterwards became a mother,
when no evidences of this promise had been apparent!
Nay, do not cast down this letter, O queen! Read it to
the end! It is important you should know all.
“When I became of lawful maturity, it was whispered
to me by a certain person, that there were suspicions
that the queen had feigned maternity, and that she
in order to prevent the son of her husband's brother
from inheriting. It is true, your majesty, that my
father, your lord's brother, loved you, as a maiden, and
would have borne you from the palace of Pharaoh, your
father, as his own. Yet why should your revenge extend
to his son, after he married another princess?
Why did you deceive Egypt, and supplant his son (myself),
by imposing upon Egypt the infant Remeses, the
child of a lord of your palace, whom no one knows, for
you took care to send him, with an ample bribe of gold,
to Carthage, or some other distant country. Now, your
majesty knows whether this be true or not. I believe
it to be so, and that the haughty, hypocritically meek
Remeses, has no more right to be called the son of Pharaoh's
daughter than one of the children of the base
Hebrews, or of an Egyptian swineherd; and, by the
gods, judging from his features, he might be a Ben
Israel!
“I demand, therefore, that you make me viceroy of the
Thebaïd. Unless you do so, I swear to your majesty,
that I will agitate this suspicion, and fill all Egypt with
the idea that your favorite Remeses is not your son.
Whether I believe this or not, matters not. If there be
any truth in it, your majesty knows, and will, no doubt,
act accordingly.
When I had finished reading this extraordinary letter,
I raised my eyes to the queen. She was intently observing
its effect upon my countenance.
“Dared that man write thus to your majesty?” I cried,
with the profoundest emotions of indignation.
“You have read,” answered the queen, with a tremulous
voice.
“And did not your majesty at once send and arrest
the bold insulter and dangerous man?” I said.
She bit her lip, and said, in a hollow tone—
“Prince of Tyre, is he not this day viceroy of the
Thebaïd?”
“Does your majesty mean that you yielded to his demand?”
“Yes.”
“I marvel at it,” said I, confounded at the acknowledgment.
“If what he had said had been true—”
“Sesostris, falsehood often flies faster than truth. It
can do as much mischief. The rumor of such a thing,
false or true, would have shaken my throne, and destroyed
the confidence of the mass of the people in Remeses
when he came to the sceptre. I resolved to stifle
it by giving Mœris what he asked.”
I regarded the queen with sentiments of pity and
sorrow. She said quickly—
“Read another letter from him.” I did so. It was
dated three years later, and demanded the command of
the fleet, and its separation from the control of the general-in-chief
of the armies. This general-in-chief was
Remeses, dear mother. To the demand the queen
yielded, and thereby erected the maritime arm of her
kingdom into an independent service, acknowledgeing no
superior authority but that of the throne. When I had
ended the perusal of the letter, the queen placed in my
hand a third missive from this powerful man.
“This is what I received but now,” she gasped.
“Read it, Sesostris, and give me your sympathy.”
It bore date—
Memnonia, Thebaid.
“To the Queen Amense:
“Your Majesty,—I write from my pavilion pitched
at the foot of the Libyan mountains. I need not forewarn
you of the subject of this letter, when I assure you
that within the hour I have received intelligence from
Memphis, that you are about to abdicate your throne in
favor of Remeses, your suppositious son. This intelligence
does not surprise me. When I was in Lower
Egypt, I saw through you and your policy. I perceived
that while you feared me, you resolved to defeat my
power over you. This purpose, to surrender the sceptre
of the two Egypts, I can penetrate. You design, thereby,
securely to place Remeses beyond my power to
harm him, for that, being king, if I lift a finger he can
destroy me. I admire your policy, and bow in homage
to your diplomacy. But, O queen, both you and
Remeses are in my power! Nay, do not flash your
imperial eyes at this assertion. Hear me for a few
moments.
“Your ready compliance with my demand, a few years
ago, to create me viceroy of Thebes, led me to believe
that my suspicions were true; that is, that Remeses was
the son of one of your noble ladies, whom you had
adopted. And when you made me admiral of your fleet,
on my second demand, I was convinced that you feared
the truth, and that it might be proven, with proper evidence,
obtain this evidence. You know that I have something
of the sleuth-hound in my composition, and that once
upon a track I will follow it to its termination, were it
under the pyramid of Noachis itself. I employed emissaries.
I bribed even your own courtiers. I ascertained
who were of your court when your husband was
killed in Ethiopia, thirty-five years ago. Three old
lords and ladies still live, and have good memories when
gold, and jewels, and promises of place dazzle their
humid eyes. From them I learned, that about the time
of the supposed birth of Remeses, you sent away, in one
day, five of your ladies and maids of honor, to a distant
country: yet not so quickly but that one of them
dropped the secret, that you were not a real mother,
and that the infant you called your own was the son of
another woman. This secret was told to her brother,
who, in after years, was my master of horse. When,
on one occasion, I was about to put him to death for
cowardice in battle, he informed me that he held a
great secret `concerning the queen, Prince Remeses,
and myself,' and that if I would pardon and restore
him to his rank, he would divulge it, saying, that for
fear it would be traced to him by your majesty if he
ever spoke of it, he had never made it known to any
man.
“Curiosity and instinct led me to pardon him. He then
stated what I have above written,—that you feigned
maternity, and, obtaining a male child from the Hebrew
nurse of one of your ladies, who had given birth to it
a few weeks before, you shut yourself up three months,
and then palmed it upon the priests and people, as the
The mother, the nurse, and the ladies who
were parties to the transaction, were then all banished
from Egypt.
“Instituting a thorough investigation, by dispatching
galleys to Tyre, Carthage, Gades, and the isles of the
sea, at length I was rewarded by the discovery of the
port to which your women were carried. Two of them
only were found alive. Those two are now in the city
of On! When I was in Lower Egypt I saw them, and
will name them: Thebia, of Pythom, and Nilia, of On.
Your majesty perceives how exact I am: that I have
my way clear as I advance. Methinks I can see you
turn deadly white, and that with a shriek you let
fall the papyrus! Take it up again, and resume the
perusal. It is useless to shrink from the development
of the truth. You may shut your eyes at noon, and say
`It is night,' but you cannot, by so doing, destroy the
the light of the sun. You may close your eyes—you
may destroy this letter, or may read no further; but
the truth will shine, nevertheless, with a brightness
which will drive night itself before it!
“These venerable women, examined apart, told the
same tale. It is as follows:
“`That you had approached the river on the morning
of the festival of Isis (you see I am particular), to bathe,
as your custom was, in the marble crescent at the foot
of the gardens of your palace of Rhoda, where you now
are residing. You had descended the steps into the
water, and your women had taken your necklace, and
other ornaments from you; and, robed in your bathing-dress,
you were about to step into the river, when you
where you stood. While you were looking at it, it
lodged against a group of flags, near the statue of Nepth,
just above you. Your maidens were lingering upon
the bank, or walking near at hand, awaiting you,
when, seeing Nilia not far off, you called to her, and
said—
“`Seest thou the little basis of basket-work, O Nilia?
Draw it in to the shore, and look what it contains.'
“The handmaiden obeyed you, aided by her companion,
Thebia, and when you drew near and opened the lid,
you beheld a beautiful child lying within it. It looked
up into your face, and wept so piteously, that you took
it up, deeply impressed by its beauty and helplessness,
and the extraordinary manner in which it had come to
you. You placed it in the arms of Thebia, and said
to her:
“`This child is sent to me by Nilus, the deity of this
great river of Egypt. I will adopt it as my own, for it
has no father but the river, no mother but this little
ark of flags and bitumen in which it has floated to my
feet.'
“You then gave the lovely babe many kisses, tenderly
soothed its cries, and was so happy with the prize, that
you hastened to leave the river. But before you did
so, the wind blew aside its mantle, and you discovered
that it was a Hebrew male child, for the Egyptians do
not circumcise their infants. This discovery was made
also by the two women, Nilia and Thebia, and you said:
“`It is one of the Hebrews' children.'
“It was at the time when your father's edict for the
destruction of all the male children of this Syrian race
when its wailing tones moved your heart, and you said
to them:
“`It shall still be mine! Let us keep the secret! I
will raise it as my son! Its parents think it has perished,
for they could not have hoped to save it by committing
it to this frail bark, and it can never know its
origin!'
“That child, O queen, is Remeses! Of this I have
certain evidence. The two women say, you ordered the
little ark to be taken in charge by your chief of the
baths. In verification of the account, the ark still exists,
and I have seen it.
“It is not necessary for me to add more. I have written
enough to show you the power I hold over you, and
over this Remeses-Mosis. His very name signifies `Taken
out of the water,' and was given to him by yourself,
as if the gods would make you the means of your own
conviction.
“Now, O queen, who intendeth to place a degraded
Hebrew upon the throne of Egypt, I, Mœris, write this
epistle warning you, that unless you revoke your purpose,
and publicly adopt me as your son, and convey to
me the two crowns, I will proclaim through all Egypt
your shame, and the true history of this Remeses! I
could have excused you had he proved to be the son of
one of your ladies, as the report was; but an Hebrew!
He deserves death, and you to forfeit your crown! But
I will make these terms with your majesty:—if you will
call a council of your hierarchy and adopt me as your
son, that I may be your heir, and will abdicate in my
favor, I will conceal what I know from the Egyptians,
and lord of all his people under my rule. Is not
this liberal?
“If you refuse my terms, I will descend upon Lower
Egypt with my fleet, declare your throne vacant, Remeses
a slave, and seize the sceptre! Once in my power,
your favorite Remeses shall die an ignominious death,
and you shall remain a prisoner for life in the castle of
Bubastis.
“I dispatch a special courier—my master of horse—
whose sister was your lady in waiting at the finding of
Remeses. Unless I have a reply in the affirmative, for
which my courier will delay six hours, you shall hear
me knocking at the gates of Rhoda with the head of my
spear!
“Nephew and heir of Amense, Queen of Egypt.”
When, my dear mother, I had finished reading this
extraordinary letter, I held it unrolled in my hands for
a few moments, stupefied, as it were, with amazement.
My eyes sought the face of the queen. It was rigid as
iron—white as alabaster; but her regards were riveted
upon my countenance.
“Your majesty,” I said, hardly knowing what to say,
“what fable is this of the daring and impious Prince of
Thebes—?”
She interrupted me with—
“What dost thou think, O Sesostris? If it be a fable,
is it not, in such a man's hand, as dangerous as truth?
Dare I let him circulate such a tale throughout Egypt?
Can I let it reach the ears of Remeses?”
“Why not, O queen?” I asked. “If it is false, it can
and wise to heed it. Is it by so improbable and artfully
framed a story as this, you are made unhappy;
and for this you resign your crown and hasten to secure
Remeses in power?”
“Is it not enough?”
“No, O wise and virtuous lady!” I answered, with
indignant feelings against Mœris, and sympathy for her
womanly fears; “my advice to you is, to defy the malice
and wickedness of the viceroy, inform Remeses of these
letters—nay, let him read them—assemble your army,
and meet him with open war. A row of galleys sunk
across the Nile will stop his fleet; and if he land, your
soldiers, with Remeses at their head, will drive him back
to his city of a hundred gates, and—”
Again the queen interrupted me:
“No, no! I cannot tell Remeses! He must never
know of these letters!” she almost shrieked.
“Has Remeses any suspicion of the tale they tell?” I
asked.
“No. He knows no other mother. If he hears this
story, he will investigate it to the last, to show me that
he would prove it false in the mouth of Mœris.”
“And this he ought to do, your majesty,” I said,
firmly.
“Prince Sesostris, dost thou believe he could prove
it false?” she demanded, in a mysterious and strange
tone.
“Undoubtedly,” I answered; though, my dear mother,
I could not wholly resist the recollection, which forced
itself upon me most sharply and painfully, of the resemblance
I had noticed between Remeses and the Hebrew
it more probable for an Egyptian and Hebrew to
look alike, than for Remeses to have been born a Hebrew,
and adopted by Pharaoh's daughter. Nevertheless,
there was apparent to myself a want of fulness in
my tones when I answered her “undoubtedly.”
The queen came close up to me, and said in a deep,
terrible whisper, looking first wildly around her, to see
if any one overheard her,—
“He cannot prove it false!”
“You mean, O queen,” said I, “that though Remeses
cannot prove it false, it nevertheless is false?”
“No. It cannot be proven false, because it is TRUE!”
she answered, as if her voice came from within a sarcophagus.
“True?” I repeated, with horror.
“True, O prince! It is impossible for me to conceal
or prevaricate. I promised to confide in you; but I
have kept back till the last the whole truth! I can do
so no longer!” She caught by my arm to sustain her
tottering form.
“Is not Remeses, then, your son?” I cried.
“No.”
“Is he a Hebrew?”
“Yes.”
“Then this letter of Mœris is all true?”
“All, as to the fact that Remeses is a Hebrew!”
Such was the rapid colloquy which followed. O
my dear mother, no mortal can estimate the amount of
agony which overwhelmed my soul at this intelligence!
I sank upon the pedestal of a statue near me, and covering
my face with my hands, burst into tears. The queen
mortification to exhaust itself. At length I raised my
head. I felt for her—felt, oh how profoundly, for the
unhappy Remeses—ignorant of his calamity, and engaged,
even then, in the vigils and rites which were to
prepare him to ascend the throne! I could now understand
all that had been inexplicable in the queen's conduct,
unravel her mysterious language, see the motive
of all her acts. I no longer marvelled that she, loving
Remeses with all a mother's love, trembled before Mœ
ris and his secret, and gave him all he demanded as the
price of silence. But when he asked for her throne as the
bribe for secrecy, it was more than her spirit could
bear; and unable alone, unaided, to meet him in his
demand, she sought counsel of me and sympathy; and
little by little made known to me, as I have narrated,
the secret she would have sacrificed her life to conceal,
if she could thereby have concealed it forever from
Remeses.
“Poor, noble, unhappy Remeses!” I ejaculated.
“He must never know it!” she cried, passionately.
“It will be known to him,” I answered, sorrowfully.
“If you refuse Prince Mœris's demand, he will write
another such missive as this, and dispatch it to Remeses.
The prince, if I may, from love, still call him so, will,
as you have said, examine the matter. Mœris will refer
him to the ladies Nilia and Thebia. He will then
come to you—”
“To me?” she cried, with a shudder.
“To you, O queen, and ask of you if Prince Mœris
and these women relate the truth.”
“He would not believe—he would not believe it—so
such a demand of me!”
“He may be forced to it. Circumstances may overcome
him, so that he will feel that he must appeal to
you. He would refuse to ascend the throne of Egypt,
so high is his integrity, if there were a doubt as to his
legitimate right to it.”
“O prince, counsel me! What shall I do?” she
cried, wringing her hands, and looking towards me in
the most appealing and helpless manner.
“I know not how to counsel your majesty,” I replied,
greatly distressed, my heart bleeding both for her and
Remeses, who, I felt, sooner or later, must come to the
truth of the dreadful rumor; and also from my knowledge
of the perfect uprightness and justice of his character,
as well as his firmness, that he would investigate
it until he either disproved or verified it.
At length, after a long and painful interval of embarrassment,
the queen, of her own will, said to me—
“Sesostris, I meant no wrong. I loved the weeping
babe, in its desolate state, and no sooner did I take it
up than it smiled, and won my heart. You know the
fine appearance of Remeses as a man; judge you therefore
how lovely he was when an infant three mouths old.
I was childless. My husband had been a few weeks
dead, and this infant seemed to be sent to me in part to
fill up the place made void in my affections. That it
was a Hebrew child did not move me. I had always
opposed the cruel edict of the king, my father; and felt
that, to save this child of the oppressed Hebrews, would
in some degree, atone for the death of so many who
were destroyed in obedience to his orders. Thus I was
adopt a son, to atone for evil.”
“Good and lawful motives, O queen,” I said, interested
in her narrative, so touchingly told as to deeply
affect me.
“I did not believe I was doing evil: I at once, at
the suggestion of one of my maids, sent a Hebrew girl,
who was gazing upon us from afar, to call a nurse from
the Hebrew women for the child. She brought one,
comely and gentle in manner, whom I took with me to
the palace; and, after instructing her to keep the matter
a secret, suffered her to take the child home, for she
lived in a garden, not far above the palace, upon the
island, her father being a cultivator of flowers for the
priests. The tenderness of this Hebrew woman towards
the beautiful babe pleased me, and, after I had, in a
public manner, acknowledged the child, even as Mœris's
letter states, I let it remain with her until it grew to be
three years old, when I commanded her to bring it to
the palace to remain; for although I had seen it almost
daily, I now desired to have it wholly in my possession.
From that time he has been brought up in my own
palace, as my son, and educated as prince of the empire
and heir to the throne. For all my care and affection,
he has repaid me with the profoundest devotion, and tenderest
attachment. At first, seeing he was very fond of
his Hebrew nurse, I jealously forbade her again to visit
him, so that I might be the sole object of his attachment.
He soon forgot her, and from his fourth year
has known no love but mine. When he came to manhood,
I had him instructed in the art of war, and made
him general of the army of the pyramids. By the
astrology, architecture, physics, mythology, and the
knowledge of all science. I have spared no care to
educate him in all the learning of the Egyptians. With
all his wisdom and vast knowledge, he is as docile and
gentle in disposition as a child: ever dutifully submissive
to my will, the voice which has led armies by its
battle-cry, melts into tenderness in my presence. Ah,
prince, never mother loved a son as I have loved him!”
“I pity you, O queen, with all my heart,” said I,
warmly.
“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I reply to Mœris?”
“I know not how to counsel you!” I said, embarrassed
by this appeal.
“I will then act. His courier shall not go back unanswered.
I will defy him!” A new spirit seemed all at
once to animate her.
She clapped her hands. A page entered.
“Bid the Theban courier enter. His answer is ready.”
The master of horse came haughtily in, a cloud of impatience
yet upon his brow.
“Go back to thy master, and say to him, that Amense
is still queen of Egypt, and wears both the crowns of
her fathers, and that she will defend them. Say, that I
defy him, and fear him not!”
The courier looked amazed, bowed with a slight gesture
of obeisance, and left the presence.
No sooner had the valves of the door closed upon
him, than she said—
“It is done! The arrow is drawn from the quiver,
and set to the bowstring. There is nothing left but to
defy him, and trust the gods to aid the just cause. Remeses
and return a letter to him. There are but five
days more to the end of the forty. Three days afterwards
is the coronation. That is nine from to-day. It
will take twelve or more days for a message to go and
come from the camp of Mœris. Three days! Time
enough to make or mar an empire. Sesostris, this
prince of Typhon, this haughty Mœris, shall yet be confounded!”
Thus speaking, the queen, whose whole powers were
aroused by despair linked with affection, laid her hand
in mine, bade me good-night—for it was now moonlight,
so long had we discoursed—and begged me come in the
the morning and breakfast with her.
Here, in the quiet of my chamber, dear mother, I
have made a record of this extraordinary interview.
The letter I shall preserve unless it be necessary to destroy
it; but I shall not send it to you until the seal of
secrecy is removed.
What can I say? How can I realize that Remeses
is a Hebrew? How little he suspects the truth! Will
he hear it? If he does; but it is useless to speculate
upon the consequences. I pray that he may be well
crowned before Mœris can do him any mischief; for, son
of Misr, or son of Abram, he is worthy of the throne of
Egypt, and will wield its sceptre with wisdom and justice,
beyond that of any of the proud Pharaohs. The
attachment of the queen is natural. I deeply feel for
her. The conduct of Mœris is also natural. What will
be his course? Farewell, dear mother.
| LETTER XXIII. The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage | |