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Five days after the evening we have just described at Rhodopis’ house, an immense multitude was to be seen assembled at the harbor of Sais.

Egyptians of both sexes, and of every age and class were thronging to the water’s edge.

Soldiers and merchants, whose various ranks in society were betokened by the length of their white garments, bordered with colored fringes, were interspersed among the crowd of half-naked, sinewy men, whose only clothing consisted of an apron, the costume of the lower classes. Naked children crowded, pushed and fought to get the best places. Mothers in short cloaks were holding their little ones up to see the sight, which by this means they entirely lost themselves; and a troop of dogs and cats were playing and fighting at the feet of these eager sight-seers, who took the greatest pains not to tread on, or in any way injure the sacred animals.

[According to various pictures on the Egyptian monuments. The

mothers are from Wilkinson III. 363. Isis and Hathor, with the

child Horus in her lap or at her breast, are found in a thousand

representations, dating both from more modern times and in the Greek

style. The latter seem to have served as a model for the earliest

pictures of the Madonna holding the infant Christ.]

The police kept order among this huge crowd with long staves, on the metal heads of which the king’s name was inscribed. Their care was especially needed to prevent any of the people from being pushed into the swollen Nile, an arm of which, in the season of the inundations, washes the walls of Sais.

On the broad flight of steps which led between two rows of sphinxes down to the landing-place of the royal boats, was a very different kind of assembly.

The priests of the highest rank were seated there on stone benches. Many wore long, white robes, others were clad in aprons, broad jewelled collars, and garments of panther skins. Some had fillets adorned with plumes that waved around brows, temples, and the stiff structures of false curls that floated over their shoulders; others displayed the glistening bareness of their smoothly-shaven skulls. The supreme judge was distinguished by the possession of the longest and handsomest plume in his head-dress, and a costly sapphire amulet, which, suspended by a gold chain, hung on his breast.

The highest officers of the Egyptian army wore uniforms of gay colors,97 and carried short swords in their girdles. On the right side of the steps a division of the body-guard was stationed, armed with battleaxes, daggers, bows, and large shields; on the left, were the Greek mercenaries, armed in Ionian fashion. Their new leader, our friend Aristomachus, stood with a few of his own officers apart from the Egyptians, by the colossal statues of Psamtik I., which had been erected on the space above the steps, their faces towards the river.

In front of these statues, on a silver chair, sat Psamtik, the heir to the throne: He wore a close-fitting garment of many colors, interwoven with gold, and was surrounded by the most distinguished among the king’s courtiers, chamberlains, counsellors, and friends, all bearing staves with ostrich feathers and lotus-flowers.

The multitude gave vent to their impatience by shouting, singing, and quarrelling; but the priests and magnates on the steps preserved a dignified and solemn silence. Each, with his steady, unmoved gaze, his stiffly-curled false wig and beard, and his solemn, deliberate manner, resembled the two huge statues, which, the one precisely similar to the other, stood also motionless in their respective places, gazing calmly into the stream.

At last silken sails, chequered with purple and blue, appeared in sight.

The crowd shouted with delight. Cries of, “They are coming! Here they are!” “Take care, or you’ll tread on that kitten,” “Nurse, hold the child higher that she may see something of the sight.” “You are pushing me into the water, Sebak!” “Have a care Phoenician, the boys are throwing burs into your long beard.” “Now, now, you Greek fellow, don’t fancy that all Egypt belongs to you, because Amasis allows you to live on the shores of the sacred river!” “Shameless set, these Greeks, down with them!” shouted a priest, and the cry was at once echoed from many mouths. “Down with the eaters of swine’s flesh and despisers of the gods!”

[The Egyptians, like the Jews, were forbidden to eat swine’s flesh.

This prohibition is mentioned in the Ritual of the Dead, found in a

grave in Abd-el-Qurnah, and also in other places. Porphyr de

Abstin. IV. The swine was considered an especially unclean animal

pertaining to Typhon (Egyptian, Set) as the boar to Ares, and

swineherds were an especially despised race. Animals with bristles

were only sacrificed at the feasts of Osiris and Eileithyia. Herod.

I. 2. 47. It is probable that Moses borrowed his prohibition of

swine’s flesh from the Egyptian laws with regard to unclean

animals.]

From words they were proceeding to deeds, but the police were not to be trifled with, and by a vigorous use of their staves, the tumult was soon stilled. The large, gay sails, easily to be distinguished among the brown, white and blue ones of the smaller Nile-boats which swarmed around them, came nearer and nearer to the expectant throng. Then at last the crown-prince and the dignitaries arose from their seats. The royal band of trumpeters blew a shrill and piercing blast of welcome, and the first of the expected boats stopped at the landing-place.

It was a rather long, richly-gilded vessel, and bore a silver sparrow-hawk as figure-head. In its midst rose a golden canopy with a purple covering, beneath which cushions were conveniently arranged. On each deck in the forepart of the ship sat twelve rowers, their aprons attached by costly fastenings.

[Splendid Nile-boats were possessed, in greater or less numbers, by

all the men of high rank. Even in the tomb of Ti at Sakkara, which

dates from the time of the Pyramids, we meet with a chief overseer

of the vessels belonging to a wealthy Egyptian.]

Beneath the canopy lay six fine-looking men in glorious apparel; and before the ship had touched the shore the youngest of these, a beautiful fair-haired youth, sprang on to the steps.

Many an Egyptian girl’s mouth uttered a lengthened “Ah” at this glorious sight, and even the grave faces of some of the dignitaries brightened into a friendly smile.

The name of this much-admired youth was Bartja.

[This Bartja is better known under the name of Smerdis, but on what

account the Greeks gave him this name is not clear. In the

cuneiform inscriptions of Bisitun or Behistun, he is called Bartja,

or, according to Spiegel, Bardiya. We have chosen, for the sake of

the easy pronunciation, the former, which is Rawlinson’s simplified

reading of the name.]

He was the son of the late, and brother of the reigning king of Persia, and had been endowed by nature with every gift that a youth of twenty years could desire for himself.

Around his tiara was wound a blue and white turban, beneath which hung fair, golden curls of beautiful, abundant hair; his blue eyes sparkled with life and joy, kindness and high spirits, almost with sauciness; his noble features, around which the down of a manly beard was already visible, were worthy of a Grecian sculptor’s chisel, and his slender but muscular figure told of strength and activity. The splendor of his apparel was proportioned to his personal beauty. A brilliant star of diamonds and turquoises glittered in the front of his tiara. An upper garment of rich white and gold brocade reaching just below the knees, was fastened round the waist with a girdle of blue and white, the royal colors of Persia. In this girdle gleamed a short, golden sword, its hilt and scabbard thickly studded with opals and sky-blue turquoises. The trousers were of the same rich material as the robe, fitting closely at the ankle, and ending within a pair of short boots of light-blue leather.

The long, wide sleeves of his robe displayed a pair of vigorous arms, adorned with many costly bracelets of gold and jewels; round his slender neck and on his broad chest lay a golden chain.

Such was the youth who first sprang on shore. He was followed by Darius, the son of Hystaspes, a young Persian of the blood royal, similar in person to Bartja, and scarcely less gorgeously apparelled than he. The third to disembark was an aged man with snow-white hair, in whose face the gentle and kind expression of childhood was united, with the intellect of a man, and the experience of old age. His dress consisted of a long purple robe with sleeves, and the yellow boots worn by the Lydians;—his whole appearance produced an impression of the greatest modesty and a total absence of pretension.

[On account of these boots, which are constantly mentioned, Croesus

was named by the oracle “soft-footed.”]

Yet this simple old man had been, but a few years before, the most envied of his race and age; and even in our day at two thousand years’ interval, his name is used as a synonyme for the highest point of worldly riches attainable by mankind. The old man to whom we are now introduced is no other than Croesus, the dethroned king of Lydia, who was then living at the court of Cambyses, as his friend and counsellor, and had accompanied the young Bartja to Egypt, in the capacity of Mentor.

Croesus was followed by Prexaspes, the king’s Ambassador, Zopyrus, the son of Megabyzus, a Persian noble, the friend of Bartja and Darius; and, lastly, by his own son, the slender, pale Gyges, who after having become dumb in his fourth year through the fearful anguish he had suffered on his father’s account at the taking of Sardis, had now recovered the power of speech.

Psamtik descended the steps to welcome the strangers. His austere, sallow face endeavored to assume a smile. The high officials in his train bowed down nearly to the ground, allowing their arms to hang loosely at their sides. The Persians, crossing their hands on their breasts, cast themselves on the earth before the heir to the Egyptian throne. When the first formalities were over, Bartja, according to the custom of his native country, but greatly to the astonishment of the populace, who were totally unaccustomed to such a sight, kissed the sallow cheek of the Egyptian prince; who shuddered at the touch of a stranger’s unclean lips, then took his way to the litters waiting to convey him and his escort to the dwelling designed for them by the king, in the palace at Sais.

A portion of the crowd streamed after the strangers, but the larger number remained at their places, knowing that many a new and wonderful sight yet awaited them.

“Are you going to run after those dressed-up monkeys and children of Typhon, too?” asked an angry priest of his neighbor, a respectable tailor of Sais. “I tell you, Puhor, and the high-priest says so too, that these strangers can bring no good to the black land! I am for the good old times, when no one who cared for his life dared set foot on Egyptian soil. Now our streets are literally swarming with cheating Hebrews, and above all with those insolent Greeks whom may the gods destroy!

[The Jews were called Hebrews (Apuriu) by the Egyptians; as brought

to light by Chabas. See Ebers, Aegypten I. p. 316. H. Brugsch

opposes this opinion.]

“Only look, there is the third boat full of strangers! And do you know what kind of people these Persians are? The high-priest says that in the whole of their kingdom, which is as large as half the world, there is not a single temple to the gods; and that instead of giving decent burial to the dead, they leave them to be torn in pieces by dogs and vultures.”

[These statements are correct, as the Persians, at the time of the

dynasty of the Achaemenidae, had no temples, but used fire-altars

and exposed their dead to the dogs and vultures. An impure corpse

was not permitted to defile the pure earth by its decay; nor might

it be committed to the fire or water for destruction, as their

purity would be equally polluted by such an act. But as it was

impossible to cause the dead bodies to vanish, Dakhmas or burying-

places were laid out, which had to be covered with pavement and

cement not less than four inches thick, and surrounded by cords to

denote that the whole structure was as it were suspended in the air,

and did not come in contact with the pure earth. Spiegel, Avesta

II.]

“The tailor’s indignation at hearing this was even greater than his astonishment, and pointing to the landing-steps, he cried:

“It is really too bad; see, there is the sixth boat full of these foreigners!”

“Yes, it is hard indeed!” sighed the priest, “one might fancy a whole army arriving. Amasis will go on in this manner until the strangers drive him from his throne and country, and plunder and make slaves of us poor creatures, as the evil Hyksos, those scourges of Egypt, and the black Ethiopians did, in the days of old.”

“The seventh boat!” shouted the tailor.

“May my protectress Neith, the great goddess of Sais, destroy me, if I can understand the king,” complained the priest. “He sent three barks to Naukratis, that poisonous nest hated of the gods, to fetch the servants and baggage of these Persians; but instead of three, eight had to be procured, for these despisers of the gods and profaners of dead bodies have not only brought kitchen utensils, dogs, horses, carriages, chests, baskets and bales, but have dragged with them, thousands of miles, a whole host of servants. They tell me that some of them have no other work than twining of garlands and preparing ointments. Their priests too, whom they call Magi, are here with them. I should like to know what they are for? of what use is a priest where there is no temple?”

The old King Amasis received the Persian embassy shortly after their arrival with all the amiability and kindness peculiar to him.

Four days later, after having attended to the affairs of state, a duty punctually fulfilled by him every morning without exception, he went forth to walk with Croesus in the royal gardens. The remaining members of the embassy, accompanied by the crown-prince, were engaged in an excursion up the Nile to the city of Memphis.

The palace-gardens, of a royal magnificence, yet similar in their arrangement to those of Rhodopis, lay in the north-west part of Sais, near the royal citadel.

Here, under the shadow of a spreading plane-tree, and near a gigantic basin of red granite, into which an abundance of clear water flowed perpetually through the jaws of black basalt crocodiles, the two old men seated themselves.

The dethroned king, though in reality some years the elder of the two, looked far fresher and more vigorous than the powerful monarch at his side. Amasis was tall, but his neck was bent; his corpulent body was supported by weak and slender legs: and his face, though well-formed, was lined and furrowed. But a vigorous spirit sparkled in the small, flashing eyes, and an expression of raillery, sly banter, and at times, even of irony, played around his remarkably full lips. The low, broad brow, the large and beautifully-arched head bespoke great mental power, and in the changing color of his eyes one seemed to read that neither wit nor passion were wanting in the man, who, from his simple place as soldier in the ranks, had worked his way up to the throne of the Pharaohs. His voice was sharp and hard, and his movements, in comparison with the deliberation of the other members of the Egyptian court, appeared almost morbidly active.

The attitude and bearing of his neighbor Croesus were graceful, and in every way worthy of a king. His whole manner showed that he had lived in frequent intercourse with the highest and noblest minds of Greece. Thales, Anaximander and Anaximenes of Miletus, Bias of Priene, Solon of Athens, Pittakus of Lesbos, the most celebrated Hellenic philosophers, had in former and happier days been guests at the court of Croesus in Sardis. His full clear voice sounded like pure song when compared with the shrill tones of Amasis.

[Bias, a philosopher of Ionian origin, flourished about 560 B. C.

and was especially celebrated for his wise maxims on morals and law.

After his death, which took place during his defence of a friend in

the public court, a temple was erected to him by his countrymen.

Laert. Diog. I. 88.]

“Now tell me openly,” began king Pharaoh—[In English “great house,” the high gate or “sublime porte.”]—in tolerably fluent Greek, “what opinion hast thou formed of Egypt? Thy judgment possesses for me more worth than that of any other man, for three reasons: thou art better acquainted with most of the countries and nations of this earth; the gods have not only allowed thee to ascend the ladder of fortune to its utmost summit, but also to descend it, and thirdly, thou hast long been the first counsellor to the mightiest of kings. Would that my kingdom might please thee so well that thou wouldst remain here and become to me a brother. Verily, Croesus, my friend hast thou long been, though my eyes beheld thee yesterday for the first time!”

“And thou mine,” interrupted the Lydian. “I admire the courage with which thou hast accomplished that which seemed right and good in thine eyes, in spite of opposition near and around thee. I am thankful for the favor shown to the Hellenes, my friends, and I regard thee as related to me by fortune, for hast thou not also passed through all the extremes of good and evil that this life can offer?”

“With this difference,” said Amasis smiling, “that we started from opposite points; in thy lot the good came first, the evil later; whereas in my own this order has been reversed. In saying this, however,” he added, “I am supposing that my present fortune is a good for me, and that I enjoy it.”

“And I, in that case,” answered Croesus, “must be assuming that I am unhappy in what men call my present ill-fortune.”

“How can it possibly be otherwise after the loss of such enormous possessions?”

“Does happiness consist then in possession?” asked Croesus. “Is happiness itself a thing to be possessed? Nay, by no means! It is nothing but a feeling, a sensation, which the envious gods vouchsafe more often to the needy than to the mighty. The clear sight of the latter becomes dazzled by the glittering treasure, and they cannot but suffer continual humiliation, because, conscious of possessing power to obtain much, they wage an eager war for all, and therein are continually defeated.”

Amasis sighed, and answered: “I would I could prove thee in the wrong; but in looking back on my past life I am fain to confess that its cares began with that very hour which brought me what men call my good fortune.”—“And I,” interrupted Croesus, “can assure thee that I am thankful thou delayedst to come to my help, inasmuch as the hour of my overthrow was the beginning of true, unsullied happiness. When I beheld the first Persians scale the walls of Sardis, I execrated myself and the gods, life appeared odious to me, existence a curse. Fighting on, but in heart despairing, I and my people were forced to yield. A Persian raised his sword to cleave my skull—in an instant my poor dumb son had thrown himself between his father and the murderer, and for the first time after long years of silence, I heard him speak. Terror had loosened his tongue; in that dreadful hour Gyges learnt once more to speak, and I, who but the moment before had been cursing the gods, bowed down before their power. I had commanded a slave to kill me the moment I should be taken prisoner by the Persians, but now I deprived him of his sword. I was a changed man, and by degrees learnt ever more and more to subdue the rage and indignation which yet from time to time would boil up again within my soul, rebellious against my fate and my noble enemies. Thou knowest that at last I became the friend of Cyrus, and that my son grew up at his court, a free man at my side, having entirely regained the use of his speech. Everything beautiful and good that I had heard, seen or thought during my long life I treasured up now for him; he was my kingdom, my crown, my treasure. Cyrus’s days of care, his nights so reft of sleep, reminded me with horror of my own former greatness, and from day to day it became more evident to me that happiness has nothing to do with our outward circumstances. Each man possesses the hidden germ in his own heart. A contented, patient mind, rejoicing much in all that is great and beautiful and yet despising not the day of small things; bearing sorrow without a murmur and sweetening it by calling to remembrance former joy; moderation in all things; a firm trust in the favor of the gods and a conviction that, all things being subject to change, so with us too the worst must pass in due season; all this helps to mature the germ of happiness, and gives us power to smile, where the man undisciplined by fate might yield to despair and fear.”

Amasis listened attentively, drawing figures the while in the sand with the golden flower on his staff. At last he spoke:

“Verily, Croesus, I the great god, the ‘sun of righteousness,’ ‘the son of Neith,’ ‘the lord of warlike glory,’ as the Egyptians call me, am tempted to envy thee, dethroned and plundered as thou art. I have been as happy as thou art now. Once I was known through all Egypt, though only the poor son of a captain, for my light heart, happy temper, fun and high spirits. The common soldiers would do anything for me, my superior officers could have found much fault, but in the mad Amasis, as they called me, all was overlooked, and among my equals, (the other under-officers) there could be no fun or merry-making unless I took a share in it. My predecessor king Hophra sent us against Cyrene. Seized with thirst in the desert, we refused to go on; and a suspicion that the king intended to sacrifice us to the Greek mercenaries drove the army to open mutiny. In my usual joking manner I called out to my friends: ‘You can never get on without a king, take me for your ruler; a merrier you will never find!’ The soldiers caught the words. ‘Amasis will be our king,’ ran through the ranks from man to man, and, in a few hours more, they came to me with shouts, and acclamations of ‘The good, jovial Amasis for our King!’ One of my boon companions set a field-marshal’s helmet on my head: I made the joke earnest, and we defeated Hophra at Momempliis. The people joined in the conspiracy, I ascended the throne, and men pronounced me fortunate. Up to that time I had been every Egyptian’s friend, and now I was the enemy of the best men in the nation.

“The priests swore allegiance to me, and accepted me as a member of their caste, but only in the hope of guiding me at their will. My former superiors in command either envied me, or wished to remain on the same terms of intercourse as formerly. But this would have been inconsistent with my new position, and have undermined my authority. One day, therefore, when the officers of the host were at one of my banquets and attempting, as usual, to maintain their old convivial footing, I showed them the golden basin in which their feet had been washed before sitting down to meat; five days later, as they were again drinking at one of my revels, I caused a golden image of the great god Ra be placed upon the richly-ornamented banqueting-table.

[Ra, with the masculine article Phra, must be regarded as the

central point of the sun-worship of the Egyptians, which we consider

to have been the foundation of their entire religion. He was more

especially worshipped at Heliopolis. Plato, Eudoxus, and probably

Pythagoras also, profited by the teaching of his priests. The

obelisks, serving also as memorial monuments on which the names and

deeds of great kings were recorded, were sacred to him, and Pliny

remarks of them that they represented the rays of the sun. He was

regarded as the god of light, the director of the entire visible

creation, over which he reigned, as Osiris over the world of

spirits.]

“On perceiving it, they fell down to worship. As they rose from their knees, I took the sceptre, and holding it up on high with much solemnity, exclaimed: ‘In five days an artificer has transformed the despised vessel into which ye spat and in which men washed your feet, into this divine image. Such a vessel was I, but the Deity, which can fashion better and more quickly than a goldsmith, has made me your king. Bow down then before me and worship. He who henceforth refuses to obey, or is unmindful of the reverence due to the king, is guilty of death!’

“They fell down before me, every one, and I saved my authority, but lost my friends. As I now stood in need of some other prop, I fixed on the Hellenes, knowing that in all military qualifications one Greek is worth more than five Egyptians, and that with this assistance I should be able to carry out those measures which I thought beneficial.

“I kept the Greek mercenaries always round me, I learnt their language, and it was they who brought to me the noblest human being I ever met, Pythagoras. I endeavored to introduce Greek art and manners among ourselves, seeing what folly lay in a self-willed adherence to that which has been handed down to us, when it is in itself bad and unworthy, while the good seed lay on our Egyptian soil, only waiting to be sown.

“I portioned out the whole land to suit my purposes, appointed the best police in the world, and accomplished much; but my highest aim, namely: to infuse into this country, at once so gay and so gloomy, the spirit and intellect of the Greeks, their sense of beauty in form, their love of life and joy in it, this all was shivered on the same rock which threatens me with overthrow and ruin whenever I attempt to accomplish anything new. The priests are my opponents, my masters, they hang like a dead weight upon me. Clinging with superstitious awe to all that is old and traditionary, abominating everything foreign, and regarding every stranger as the natural enemy of their authority and their teaching, they can lead the most devout and religious of all nations with a power that has scarcely any limits. For this I am forced to sacrifice all my plans, for this I see my life passing away in bondage to their severe ordinances, this will rob my death-bed of peace, and I cannot be secure that this host of proud mediators between god and man will allow me to rest even in my grave!”

“By Zeus our saviour, with all thy good fortune, thou art to be pitied!” interrupted Croesus sympathetically, “I understand thy misery; for though I have met with many an individual who passed through life darkly and gloomily, I could not have believed that an entire race of human beings existed, to whom a gloomy, sullen heart was as natural as a poisonous tooth to the serpent. Yet it is true, that on my journey hither and during my residence at this court I have seen none but morose and gloomy countenances among the priesthood. Even the youths, thy immediate attendants, are never seen to smile; though cheerfulness, that sweet gift of the gods, usually belongs to the young, as flowers to spring.”

“Thou errest,” answered Amasis, “in believing this gloom to be a universal characteristic of the Egyptians. It is true that our religion requires much serious thought. There are few nations, however, who have so largely the gift of bantering fun and joke: or who on the occasion of a festival, can so entirely forget themselves and everything else but the enjoyments of the moment; but the very sight of a stranger is odious to the priests, and the moroseness which thou observest is intended as retaliation on me for my alliance with the strangers. Those very boys, of whom thou spakest, are the greatest torment of my life. They perform for me the service of slaves, and obey my slightest nod. One might imagine that the parents who devote their children to this service, and who are the highest in rank among the priesthood, would be the most obedient and reverential servants of the king whom they profess to honor as divine; but believe me, Croesus, just in this very act of devotion, which no ruler can refuse to accept without giving offence, lies the most crafty, scandalous calculation. Each of these youths is my keeper, my spy. They watch my smallest actions and report them at once to the priests.”

“But how canst thou endure such an existence? Why not banish these spies and select servants from the military caste, for instance? They would be quite as useful as the priests.”

“Ah! if I only could, if I dared!” exclaimed Amasis loudly. And then, as if frightened at his own rashness, he continued in a low voice, “I believe that even here I am being watched. To-morrow I will have that grove of fig-trees yonder uprooted. The young priest there, who seems so fond of gardening, has other fruit in his mind besides the half-ripe figs that he is so slowly dropping into his basket. While his hand is plucking the figs, his ear gathers the words that fall from the mouth of his king.”

“But, by our father Zeus, and by Apollo—”

“Yes, I understand thy indignation and I share it; but every position has its duties, and as a king of a people who venerate tradition as the highest divinity, I must submit, at least in the main, to the ceremonies handed down through thousands of years. Were I to burst these fetters, I know positively that at my death my body would remain unburied; for, know that the priests sit in judgment over every corpse, and deprive the condemned of rest, even in the grave.”

[This well-known custom among the ancient Egyptians is confirmed,

not only by many Greek narrators, but by the laboriously erased

inscriptions discovered in the chambers of some tombs.]

“Why care about the grave?” cried Croesus, becoming angry. “We live for life, not for death!”

“Say rather,” answered Amasis rising from his seat, “we, with our Greek minds, believe a beautiful life to be the highest good. But Croesus, I was begotten and nursed by Egyptian parents, nourished on Egyptian food, and though I have accepted much that is Greek, am still, in my innermost being, an Egyptian. What has been sung to us in our childhood, and praised as sacred in our youth, lingers on in the heart until the day which sees us embalmed as mummies. I am an old man and have but a short span yet to run, before I reach the landmark which separates us from that farther country. For the sake of life’s few remaining days, shall I willingly mar Death’s thousands of years? No, my friend, in this point at least I have remained an Egyptian, in believing, like the rest of my countrymen, that the happiness of a future life in the kingdom of Osiris, depends on the preservation of my body, the habitation of the soul.

[Each human soul was considered as a part of the world-soul Osiris,

was united to him after the death of the body, and thenceforth took

the name of Osiris. The Egyptian Cosmos consisted of the three

great realms, the Heavens, the Earth and the Depths. Over the vast

ocean which girdles the vault of heaven, the sun moves in a boat or

car drawn by the planets and fixed stars. On this ocean too the

great constellations circle in their ships, and there is the kingdom

of the blissful gods, who sit enthroned above this heavenly ocean

under a canopy of stars. The mouth of this great stream is in the

East, where the sun-god rises from the mists and is born again as a

child every morning. The surface of the earth is inhabited by human

beings having a share in the three great cosmic kingdoms. They

receive their soul from the heights of heaven, the seat and source

of light; their material body is of the earth; and the appearance or

outward form by which one human being is distinguished from another

at sight—his phantom or shadow—belongs to the depths. At death,

soul, body, and shadow separate from one another. The soul to

return to the place from whence it came, to Heaven, for it is a part

of God (of Osiris); the body, to be committed to the earth from

which it was formed in the image of its creator; the phantom or

shadow, to descend into the depths, the kingdom of shadows. The

gate to this kingdom was placed in the West among the sunset hills,

where the sun goes down daily,—where he dies. Thence arise the

changeful and corresponding conceptions connected with rising and

setting, arriving and departing, being born and dying. The careful

preservation of the body after death from destruction, not only

through the process of inward decay, but also through violence or

accident, was in the religion of ancient Egypt a principal condition

(perhaps introduced by the priests on sanitary grounds) on which

depended the speedy deliverance of the soul, and with this her

early, appointed union with the source of Light and Good, which two

properties were, in idea, one and indivisible. In the Egyptian

conceptions the soul was supposed to remain, in a certain sense,

connected with the body during a long cycle of solar years. She

could, however, quit the body from time to time at will, and could

appear to mortals in various forms and places; these appearances

differed according to the hour, and were prescribed in exact words

and delineations.]

“But enough of these matters; thou wilt find it difficult to enter into such thoughts. Tell me rather what thou thinkest of our temples and pyramids.”

Croesus, after reflecting a moment, answered with a smile: “Those huge pyramidal masses of stone seem to me creations of the boundless desert, the gaily painted temple colonnades to be the children of the Spring; but though the sphinxes lead up to your temple gates, and seem to point the way into the very shrines themselves, the sloping fortress-like walls of the Pylons, those huge isolated portals, appear as if placed there to repel entrance. Your many-colored hieroglyphics likewise attract the gaze, but baffle the inquiring spirit by the mystery that lies within their characters. The images of your manifold gods are everywhere to be seen; they crowd on our gaze, and yet who knows not that their real is not their apparent significance? that they are mere outward images of thoughts accessible only to the few, and, as I have heard, almost incomprehensible in their depth? My curiosity is excited everywhere, and my interest awakened, but my warm love of the beautiful feels itself in no way attracted. My intellect might strain to penetrate the secrets of your sages, but my heart and mind can never be at home in a creed which views life as a short pilgrimage to the grave, and death as the only true life!”

“And yet,” said Amasis, “Death has for us too his terrors, and we do all in our power to evade his grasp. Our physicians would not be celebrated and esteemed as they are, if we did not believe that their skill could prolong our earthly existence. This reminds me of the oculist Nebenchari whom I sent to Susa, to the king. Does he maintain his reputation? is the king content with him?”

“Very much so,” answered Croesus. “He has been of use to many of the blind; but the king’s mother is alas! still sightless. It was Nebenchari who first spoke to Cambyses of the charms of thy daughter Tachot. But we deplore that he understands diseases of the eye alone. When the Princess Atossa lay ill of fever, he was not to be induced to bestow a word of counsel.”

“That is very natural; our physicians are only permitted to treat one part of the body. We have aurists, dentists and oculists, surgeons for fractures of the bone, and others for internal diseases. By the ancient priestly law a dentist is not allowed to treat a deaf man, nor a surgeon for broken bones a patient who is suffering from a disease of the bowels, even though he should have a first rate knowledge of internal complaints. This law aims at securing a great degree of real and thorough knowledge; an aim indeed, pursued by the priests (to whose caste the physicians belong) with a most praiseworthy earnestness in all branches of science. Yonder lies the house of the high-priest Neithotep, whose knowledge of astronomy and geometry was so highly praised, even by Pythagoras. It lies next to the porch leading into the temple of the goddess Neith, the protectress of Sais. Would I could show thee the sacred grove with its magnificent trees, the splendid pillars of the temple with capitals modelled from the lotus-flower, and the colossal chapel which I caused to be wrought from a single piece of granite, as an offering to the goddess; but alas! entrance is strictly refused to strangers by the priests. Come, let us seek my wife and daughter; they have conceived an affection for thee, and indeed it is my wish that thou shouldst gain a friendly feeling towards this poor maiden before she goes forth with thee to the strange land, and to the strange nation whose princess she is to become. Wilt thou not adopt and take her under thy care?”

“On that thou may’st with fullest confidence rely,” replied Croesus with warmth, returning the pressure of Amasis’ hand. “I will protect thy Nitetis as if I were her father; and she will need my help, for the apartments of the women in the Persian palaces are dangerous ground. But she will meet with great consideration. Cambyses may be contented with his choice, and will be highly gratified that thou hast entrusted him with thy fairest child. Nebenchari had only spoken of Tachot, thy second daughter.”

“Nevertheless I will send my beautiful Nitetis. Tachot is so tender, that she could scarcely endure the fatigues of the journey and the pain of separation. Indeed were I to follow the dictates of my own heart, Nitetis should never leave us for Persia. But Egypt stands in need of peace, and I was a king before I became a father!”