 | LETTER XIII The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage |  |
13. LETTER XIII
I thank you for your long and very welcome letter,
written from your palace, at Sidon, whither you
went to celebrate the rites of Adonis. It assures me of
your continued health, which may the gods guard with
jealous care, for not only the stability of your kingdom,
but my whole happiness depends on your life, beloved
mother and queen. You also allude to your visits to
the temples of Astarte and of Tammuz, on Lebanon.
What a noble worship was that of our fathers, who,
amid its gigantic cedars, old as the earth itself, there first
worshipped the gods! How majestic must have appeared
their simple rites, with no altar but the mountain rock,
no columns but the vast trunks of mighty trees, no roof
but the blue heavens by day, and the starry dome by
night; while at morning and evening went up the smoke
of the sacrifice of bullocks to the gods. These were the
first temples of men, not builded by art, but made by
the gods themselves as meet places for their own worship.
I question, dear mother, if the subsequent descent
of religion from its solemn shrines, in the dark forests of
Libanus, into the valleys and cities, to be enshrined in
temples of marble, however beautiful, has elevated it.
peninsula of Tyre, before any others existed, save in
groves; yet in Egypt (which claims also this honor), the
“houses of the gods,” in their vast and pyramidal aspects,
their pillars like palm-trees, their columns like
cedars, approach more nearly to the dignity, sublimity,
and majesty of the primeval forests and eternal mountains
where religion first offered prayer to heaven.
Your visit to the temple of Tammuz, at Sareptha,
recalls a legend which, singularly enough, I first hear in
Egypt, of the origin of the rites to that deity.
The books of the priests here, relating to Phœnician,
Sabæan, Persian, and Chaldean ceremonies (for
the learning of the Egyptians seems to embrace a
knowledge of books of all countries), relate that Tammuz
was a “certain idolatrous prophet of the Sabæan
Fire-worshippers, who called upon King Ossynœces, our
remote ancestor, and commanded him to worship the
Seven Planets and the Twelve Signs of the constellations.
The king, in reply, ordered him to be put to
death. On the same night on which he was slain,” continues
the book from which I write, “a great gathering
of all the images of the gods of the whole earth was
held at the palace, where the huge golden image of the
sun was suspended; whereupon this image of the sun
related what had happened to his prophet, weeping and
mourning as he spoke to them. Then all the lesser gods
present likewise commenced weeping and mourning,
which they continued until daylight, when they all departed
through the air, returning to their respective
temples in the most distant regions of the earth.” Such,
dear mother, is the tradition here of the origin of the
forms so important a feature in our Phœnician worship,
although introduced, as it was, from the Sabæans themselves.
But the more I have conversed with the wise and
virtuous Prince Remeses, the more I feel the gross
nature of our mythology, O mother, and that images
and myths, such as form the ground and expression of
our national worship, and that rest wholly in the material
figure itself, are unworthy the reverence of an intelligent
mind. It is true, we can look at them, and honor that
which they represent,—as I daily look at your picture,
which I wear over my heart, and kissing it from love for
thee, do not worship and adore the ivory, and the colors
that mark upon its surface a sweet reflection of your
beloved and beautiful countenance. Oh, no! It is you
far away I think of, kiss, love, and in a manner adore.
Yet an Egyptian of the lowest order, seeing me almost
worshipping your picture, would believe I was adoring
an effigy of my tutelar goddess. And he would be
right, so far as my heart and thought, and you are concerned,
my mother. In this representative way, I am
now sure that Remeses regards all images, looking
through and beyond them up to the Supreme Infinite.
I also have imbibed his lofty spirit of worship, and have
come to adore the statues as I worship your picture.
But where, O mother, is the Infinite? When I think of
you, I can send my soul towards you, on wings that bear
me to your feet, either in your private chamber at
needle-work, or with your royal scribe as you are dictating
laws for the realm, or upon your throne giving
judgment. In memory and imagination, I can instantly
But the Infinite, whom Remeses calls GOD, in contradistinction
to lesser gods, where does He hide Himself?
Why, if He is, does He not reveal Himself? Why does
He suffer us to grope after Him, and not find Him? If
He be good, and loving, and gracious in His nature, He
will desire to make known to His creatures these attributes.
But how silent—how impenetrable the mystery
that environs Him in the habitation of His throne! Will
He forever remain wrapped up in the dark clouds of
space? Will He never reveal Himself in His moral
nature to man? Will He never of Himself proclaim to
the creation His unity—that there is no God but One,
and besides Him there is none else? How can He demand
obedience and virtue of men when they know not
His laws? Yet, consciousness within, visible nature,
reason, all demonstrate that there is but one Supreme
God, a single First Cause, how numerous soever the inferior
deities He may have created to aid in the government
of His vast universe; and that to Him an intellectual
and spiritual worship should be paid. This is
the theory of Remeses, who seems to be infinitely above
his people and country in piety and wisdom. Sometimes
I fancy that he draws inspiration from this Infinite God
whom he worships in his heart, and recognizes through
his intellect; for his utterances on these themes are
often like the words of a god, so wonderful are the mysteries
treated of by him, so elevating to the heart and
mind.
But I will repeat part of a conversation we had together,
after he had offered in the temple of Apis his
sacrifice for the restoration of the queen's health. He
and sacred avenue of acacia and delicate, fringe-like
ittel or tamarisk trees, alternating with the pomegranate
and mimosa:
“Sesostris, doubtless, after all my conversations with
you, I seemed an idolater to-day, quite as material and
gross, in the offerings and prayers I made, as the galley-rower
we saw offering a coarse garland of papyrus-leaves
and poppies to the god.”
“No, my noble prince,” I answered; “I saw in you
an intellectual sacrificer, whose bodily eyes indeed beheld
the sacred bull, but whose spirit saw the Great
Osiris, who once dwelt in the bull when on earth. You
honored the house where anciently a god abode.”
“No, Sesostris, the bull is nothing to me in any sense;
but as the prince of a realm whose laws ordain the worship
of Apis in Memphis, of the ram-headed Ammon at
Thebes, or the sacred ox at On, I outwardly conform to
customs which I dare not and cannot change. Or if I
would, what shall I give the people if I take away their
gods? My own religion is spiritual, as I believe yours
is becoming; but how shall I present a spiritual faith to
the Egyptians? In what form—what visible shape, can
I offer it to them? for the priests will demand a visible
religion—one tangible and material. The people cannot
worship an intellectual abstraction, as we can, Sesostris,
and as the more intelligent priests pretend they
do and can. Yet if, when I come to the throne, by an
imperial edict I remodel the theology of the priesthood
and the worship of the people—remove the golden sun
from the temple in On, slay the sacred bull Apis, and
banish the idols from all the thousand temples of the
“With an intellectual and spiritual worship of the
Supreme Infinite,” I answered.
“But who will enlighten my own ignorance of Him,
Sesostris?” he inquired sadly. “What do I know of
Him, save from an awakened consciousness within my
bosom? How can I make others possess that consciousness
which is only intuitive, and so incommunicable?
I must first know where God is, before I can direct the
people whither to look for Him when they pray. I
must first cultivate their minds and imaginations, in order
to enable them to embrace a purely mental religion,
and to worship the Infinite independently of figures, images,
and visible mementos or symbols; for, so long as they
have these at all, they will rest their faith in them, and
will look upon them as their gods. But what do I know
of the God I would reveal to them? Absolutely nothing!
That there can be but one Supreme God, reason
demonstrates; for if there were two equal gods, they
would have equal power, equal agency in the creation
and upholding of all things, in the government of the
world, and in the worship of men! Two equal gods,
who in no case differ one from the other, but are in all
things one and the same, are virtually but one God.
Therefore, as neither two, nor any number of equal gods,
can exist without acting as a unit (for otherwise they
cannot act), there can be only one God!”
I at once assented to the conclusiveness of the prince's
reasoning.
“God, then, existing as One, all beings in his universe
are below Him, even His creatures the `gods,' if there
to worship, not these gods, but the God of gods. That
he should be worshipped spiritually is evident, for he
must be a spiritual essence; and as we are certainly
composed of spirits and material bodies, and as our spirits
are no less certainly our superior part, so He who
made the spirit of man must be superior to all bodies or
forms of matter; that is, he must be that by reason of
which he is superior, namely, a SPIRIT.”
I then said to this learned and great prince, “Thinkest
thou, Remeses, that this Infinite God, whom we believe
exists, will ever make a revelation of Himself, so
that He may be worshipped as becomes His perfections?
Do you think the veil of ignorance which hangs between
Him and us will ever be lifted?”
“Without question, my Sesostris,” he answered, with
animation, the light of hope kindling in his noble eyes,
“the Creator of this world must be a benevolent, good,
and wise Being.”
“Of that there can be no doubt,” was my reply.
“Benevolence, goodness, and wisdom, then, will seek
the happiness and elevation of man. A knowledge of
the true God, whom we are now feeling and groping
after in darkness, with only the faint light of our reason
to illumine its mysterious gloom,—this knowledge
would elevate and render happy the race of men. It
would dissipate ignorance, overthrow idolatry, place
man near God, and, consequently, lift him higher in the
scale of the universe. A God of wisdom, benevolence,
and justice, will seek to produce this result. The world,
therefore, will have a revelation from Him, in the fulness
of time,—when men are ready to receive it. It
come when the knowledge of the Infinite God will be
revealed by Himself to man, who will then worship
Him, and Him alone, with the pure worship due to His
majesty, glory, and dominion.”
As Remeses concluded, his face seemed to shine with
a supernatural inspiration, as if he had talked with the
Infinite and Spiritual God of whom he spoke, and had
learned from Him the mighty mysteries of His being.
Then there passed a shadow over his face, and he said,
sorrowfully—
“How can I lead the people of Egypt to the true
God, when He hath not taught me any thing of Himself?
No, no, Sesostris, Egypt must wait, I must wait, the
world must wait the day of revelation. And that day
will come, or there is no God! For an ever-silent God—
a God who forever hideth Himself from His creatures
—is as if there were no God! But that there is a God
the heavens declare in their glory, the ocean hoarsely
murmurs His name, the thunders proclaim His power,
the lilies of the field speak of His goodness, and we ourselves
are living manifestations of His benevolence and
love. Let us, therefore, amid all the splendor of the
idolatry which fills the earth, lift up our hearts, O Sesostris,
to the One God! and in secret worship Him,
wheresoever our souls can find Him, until He reveals
Himself openly to the inhabitants of the earth.”
In relating this conversation, my dear mother, I not
only am preparing you to see my views of our mythology
materially changed, but I unfold to you more of
the sublime character of Remeses, and give you some
insight into his deep philosophy and wonderful wisdom.
I will, in connection with this subject, describe to you
a religious scene I witnessed in the Temple of Apis on
the occasion of an excursion made by me in company
with Remeses, from the Island of Rhoda.
I have already spoken of his courtesy in offering to
accompany me to Memphis, at which city he left me,
immediately after his oblation and thanksgiving, and
proceeded to attend to some urgent affairs connected
with the proposed movement of the army; with which,
since then, he has taken his departure.
The barge in which I left the palace at Rhoda, was
rowed by forty-four men, swarthy and muscular to a
noticeable degree, who belong to a maritime people,
once possessing the Pelusian Delta, but who are now reduced
to a servitude to the crown. They have a sort of
chief, called Fellac, whom they regard partly as a priest,
partly as a patriarch. Under him, by permission of the
crown, they are held in discipline. They have a mysterious
worship of their own, and are reputed to deal in
magic, and to sacrifice to Typhon, the principle of evil.
They were attired in scarlet sashes, bound about the
waist, and holding together loose white linen drawers,
which terminated at the knee in a fringe. Their shouldders
were naked, but upon their heads each wore a sort
of turban of green cloth, having one end falling over
the ear, and terminating in a silver knob. These were
the favorite body-guard rowers of the prince. Their captain
was a young man, with glittering teeth, and large oval
black eyes. He was mild and serene of aspect, richly
attired in a vesture of silver tissue, and had his black
hair perfumed with jasmine oil. His baton of office was
a long stick—not the long, slender, acacia cane which all
ornamented with an alligator's head, which, with that of
the pelican, seem to be favorite decorations of this singular
people.
As we were on the water, moving swiftly towards the
quay of the city, amid countless vessels of all nations, a
slave-barge passed down from Upper Egypt, laden with
Nubian boys and girls, destined to be sold as slaves in
the market. Borne with velocity along, we soon landed
at the grand terrace-steps of the quay. They were
thronged with pilots, shipmen, those who hold the helm
and the oar, mariners, and stranger-merchants innumerable.
A majestic gateway, at the top of the flight of porphyry
stairs, led to an avenue of palm-trees, on each side
of which was a vast open colonnade covered with a wide
awning, and filled with merchants, buyers, captains, and
officers of the customs, dispersed amid bales of goods
from all lands of the earth. I lingered here, for a short
time, gazing upon these representatives of the wealth
and commerce of the world. This is the great landing-mart
of Memphis, for the products of the other lands;
while Jizeh, lower down, is the point from whence all
that goes out of the country is shipped. The strange
cry of the foreign seamen, as they hoisted heavy bales,
and the wild song of the Egyptian laborers, as they bore
away the goods, the confused voices of the owners of the
merchandise, the variety and strange fashion of their
costumes, the numerous languages which fell upon my
ear, produced an effect as novel as it was interesting.
The riches and beauty of what I saw surprised me,
familiar as I am with the commerce of Tyre. There
were merchants from Sheba, bearded and long-robed
stones of price; and others from the markets of Javan,
with cassia, iron, and calamus; there were wines from
the vine-country of Helbona, and honey, oil, and balm
from Philistia; merchants of Dedan, with embroidered
linings and rich cloths for chariots, and costly housings
for horses, of lynx and leopard-skins; tall, grave-looking
merchants from our own Damascus, with elegant wares,
cutlery, and damascened sword-blades of wonderful
beauty, and which bring great price here; shrewd-visaged
merchants of Tyre, with purple and broidered
work and fine linen; and merchants of Sidon, with emeralds,
coral, and agate, and the valuable calmine-stone
out of which, in combination with copper, brass is
molten by the Egyptians.
There were also merchants, in an attire rich and picturesque,
from many isles of the sea, with vessels of
bronze, vases, and other exquisitely painted wares, and
boxes inlaid with ivory, jewels, and ebony. I saw the
dark, handsome men of Tarshish and far Gades, with all
kinds of riches of silver, iron, tin, lead, and scales of
gold. Shields from Arvad, beautifully embossed and
inlaid; helmets and shawls from Persia; ivory from
Ind, and boxes of precious stones—the jasper, the sapphire,
the sardiüs, the onyx, the beryl, the topaz, the
carbuncle, and the diamond—from the south seas, and
those lands under the sun, where he casts no shadow.
There were, also, wild-looking merchant horsemen from
Arabia, with horses and mules to be traded for the fine
linen, and gilt wares, and dyes of Egypt; and proud-looking
shepherd chiefs of Kedar, with flocks of lambs,
rams, and goats; while beyond these, some merchants
shining black skins and glittering teeth showed them to
be Nubians from Farther Africa, who had been brought
from the Upper Nile to be sold in the mart.
Thus does all the earth lay its riches at the feet of
Egypt, even as she pours them into the lap of Tyre.
Meet it is that two nations, so equal in commerce, should
be allied in friendship. May this friendly alliance, more
closely cemented by my visit to this court, never be
broken! I am willing to surrender to Egypt the title,
“Mistress of the World,” which I have seen inscribed
on the obelisk that Amense is now erecting, so long as
she makes no attempt upon our cherished freedom, nor
asks of us other tribute to her greatness than the jewelled
necklace it was my pleasure to present to her
queen, from your hand.
Having crossed this wonderful mart of the world, we
issued upon a broad street, which diverging to the right
led towards Jizeh, not far distant, and to the left towards
Memphis, the noble pylon of which was in full sight.
The street was lined with small temples, six on each
side, dedicated to the twelve gods of the months, statues
of each of whom stood upon pedestals before its gateway.
This avenue, which was but a succession of columns
and statues, and in which we met several pleasure-chariots,
terminated at an obelisk one hundred feet in
height—a majestic and richly elaborated monument,
erected by Amunophis I., whose name it bears upon a
cartouch, to the honor of his Syrian queen, Ephtha.
Upon its surface is recounted, in exquisitely colored intaglio
hieroglyphs, her virtues and the deeds of his own
with a dog's head, symbolic of ceaseless vigilance. A
noble square surrounds the obelisk, and on its west side
is the propylon of Memphis. The great wings that
inclose the pylon are ninety feet in height, and are
resplendent with colored pictorial designs, done in the
most brilliant style of Egyptian art.
Here we found a guard of soldiers, whose captain
received the prince with marks of the profoundest military
respect. We passed in, through ranks of soldiers,
who bent one knee to the ground, and entered the chief
street of Memphis—the second city in Egypt in architectural
magnificence, and the first in religious importance,
as the city of the sacred bull Apis.
A description of this city would be almost a repetition
of that of On, slightly varying the avenues, squares,
and forms of temples. You have, therefore, to imagine,
or rather recall, the splendor of the “City of the Lord
of the Sun” (for this is its true Egyptian designation),
and appply to Memphis the picture hitherto given of
that gorgeous metropolis of Osiris.
After we had passed a few squares through the
thronged and handsome street, which was exclusively
filled with beautiful and tasteful abodes of priests,
adorned with gardens and corridors, we came to a large
open space in the city, where was a great fountain,
surrounded by lions sculptured in gray porphyry stone.
On one side of this square was a lake, bordered with
trees; on another, a grove sacred to certain mysteries;
on a third, a temple dedicated to all the sacred animals
of Egypt,—images of which surrounded a vast portico
in front. An enumeration of them will exhibit to you,
of the One Deity, by personating His attributes in
animal forms, has converted religion into a gross and
sensual superstition. It is not enough that they have
fanciful emblems in all their temples, and on all their
sculptured monuments, of Life, Goodness, Power, Purity,
Majesty, and Dominion (as in the crook and flail of Osiris),
of Authority, of Royalty, of Stability; but they
elevate into representatives of the gods, the ape, sacred
to Thoth; the monkey; the fox, dog, wolf, and jackal, all
four sacred to Anubis; the ichneumon and cat, which
last is superstitiously reverenced, and when dead embalmed
with divine rites. The ibex, which I once believed
to be sacred, is regarded only as an emblem; and
so with the horse, ass, panther, and leopard, which are
not sacred, but merely used in sculptures as emblems.
The hippopotamus is sacred, and also an emblem of Typhon,
dedicated to the god of war. The cow is held
eminently sacred by the Egyptians, and is dedicated to
the deity Athor.
There are four sacred bulls in Egypt,—nor only sacred,
but deified. In Middle Egypt, Onuphis and Basis are
worshipped in superb temples; and at On, Mnevis,
sacred to the Sun. Here in Memphis is Apis, not only
sacred but a god, and type of Osiris, who, in his turn,
is the type of the Sun, which is the type of the Infinite
Invisible; at least this is the formula, so far as I have
learned its mysteries. How much purer the religion,
dear mother, which, passing by or overleaping all these
intermediate types and incarnations, prostrates the soul
before the footstool of the Lord of the Sun Himself, the
One Spiritual God of gods!
Of all the sacred animals above named, I beheld
images in stone upon the dromos which bordered the
portico. There were also figures of the sacred birds,—
as the ibis, sacred to the god Thoth; the vulture, the
falcon-hawk, sacred to Re, and honored in the city of
On; and the egret, sacred to Osiris. Besides these
sacred figures which decorated this pantheonic portico,
at each of the four gates was one of the four deified
bulls in stone, larger than life-size. There are also to
be found, all over Egypt, sculptured sphinxes,—a sort
of fabulous monster, represented either with the head
of a man, a hawk, or a ram; to these may be added a
vulture with a serpent's head, and a tortoise-headed
god.
The phœnix, sacred to Osiris, I shall by and by speak
of, and the white and saffron-colored cock, sacred to,
and sacrificed in, the Temple of Anubis. Certain fishes
are also held sacred by this extraordinary people, who
convert every thing into gods. The oxyrhincus, the eel,
the lepidotus, and others are sacred, and at Thebes are
embalmed by the priests. The scorpion is an emblem
of the goddess Selk, the frog of Pthah, and the unwieldy
crocodile sacred to the god Savak—a barbarous deity.
Serpents having human heads, and also hawk's and
lion's heads, were sculptured along the frieze of this
pantheon, intermingled with figures of nearly all the
above sacred animals. On the abacus of each column
was sculptured the scarabæus—the sacred beetle—consecrated
to Pthah, and adopted as an emblem of the
world; also the type of the god Hor-hat, the Good
Genius of Egypt, whose emblem is a sun supported by
two winged asps encircling it. Flies, ichneumons, and
in the sculptures, but are not sacred.
Even vegetables do not escape the service of their
religion. The persea is sacred to Athor; the ivy to
Osiris, and much made use of at his festivals; the
feathery tamarisk is also sacred to this deity; and the
peach and papyrus are supposed to be sacred, or at least
used, for religious purposes. Contrary to the opinion I
formed when I first came into Egypt, the onion, leek,
and garlic are not sacred. The pomegranate, vine, and
acanthus are used for sacred rites, and the sycamore-fig
is sacred to Netpe. The lotus, the favorite object of
imitation in all temple-sculpture, is sacred to, and the
emblem of, the most ancient god of Egypt, whom the
priests call Nofiratmoosis—a name wholly new to me
among the deities;—but it is also clearly a favorite
emblem of Osiris, being found profusely sculptured on
all his temples. Lastly, the palm-branch is a symbol of
astrology and type of the year, and conspicuous among
the offerings made to the gods.
Now, my dear mother, can you wonder at Prince
Remeses—that a man of his learning, intellect, sensibility,
and sound judgment, should turn away from
these thousand contemptible gods of Egypt, to seek a
purer faith and worship, and that he should wish to
give his people a more elevating and spiritual religion?
Divisions and subdivisions have here reached their
climax, and the Egyptians who worship God in every
thing may be said to have ceased to worship him
at all!
What was on the fourth side of the great square, of
which the lake, the grove, and the pantheon composed
Lower Egypt. In my next letter I will describe my
visit to it. I am at present a guest of the high-priest
of the temple, and hence the date of my letter at
Memphis.
| LETTER XIII The pillar of fire, or, Israel in bondage | |