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Psamtik went at once from his father’s apartments to the temple of the goddess Neith. At the entrance he asked for the high-priest and was begged by one of the inferior priests to wait, as the great Neithotep was at that moment praying in the holiest sanctuary of the exalted Queen of Heaven.

[The temples of Egypt were so constructed as to intensify the

devotion of the worshipper by conducting him onward through a series

of halls or chambers gradually diminishing in size. “The way

through these temples is clearly indicated, no digression is

allowed, no error possible. We wander on through the huge and

massive gates of entrance, between the ranks of sacred animals. The

worshipper is received into an ample court, but by degrees the walls

on either side approach one another, the halls become less lofty,

all is gradually tending towards one point. And thus we wander on,

the sights and sounds of God’s world without attract us no longer,

we see nothing but the sacred representations which encompass us so

closely, feel only the solemnity of the temple in which we stand.

And the consecrated walls embrace us ever more and more closely,

until at last we reach the lonely, resonant chamber occupied by the

divinity himself, and entered by no human being save his priest.”

Schnaase, Kunstaeschirhtc I. 394.]

After a short time a young priest appeared with the intelligence that his superior awaited the Prince’s visit. Psamtik had seated himself under the shadow of the sacred grove of silver poplars bordering the shores of the consecrated lake, holy to the great Neith. He rose immediately, crossed the temple-court, paved with stone and asphalte, on which the sun’s rays were darting like fiery arrows, and turned into one of the long avenues of Sphinxes which led to the isolated Pylons before the gigantic temple of the goddess. He then passed through the principal gate, ornamented, as were all Egyptian temple-entrances, with the winged sun’s disc. Above its widely-opened folding doors arose on either side, tower-like buildings, slender obelisks and waving flags. The front of the temple, rising from the earth in the form of an obtuse angle, had somewhat the appearance of a fortress, and was covered with colored pictures and inscriptions. Through the porch Psamtik passed on into a lofty entrance-chamber, and from thence into the great hall itself, the ceiling of which was strewn with thousands of golden stars, and supported by four rows of lofty pillars. Their capitals were carved in imitation of the lotus-flower, and these, the shafts of the columns, the walls of this huge hall, and indeed every niche and corner that met the eye were covered with brilliant colors and hieroglyphics. The columns rose to a gigantic height, the eye seemed to wander through immeasurable space, and the air breathed by the worshippers was heavy with the fragrance of Kyphi and incense, and the odors which arose from the laboratory attached to the temple. Strains of soft music, proceeding from invisible hands, flowed on unceasingly, only occasionally interrupted by the deep lowing of the sacred cows of Isis, or the shrill call of the sparrow-hawk of Horus, whose habitations were in one of the adjoining halls. No sooner did the prolonged low of a cow break like distant thunder on the ear, or the sharp cry of the sparrow-hawk shoot like a flash of lightning through the nerves of the worshippers, than each crouching form bent lower still, and touched the pavement with his forehead. On a portion of this pavement, raised above the rest, stood the priests, some wearing ostrich-feathers on their bald and shining heads; others panther-skins over their white-robed shoulders. Muttering and singing, bowing low and rising again, they swung the censers and poured libations of pure water to the gods out of golden vessels. In this immense temple man seemed a dwarf in his own eyes. All his senses even to the organs of respiration, were occupied by objects far removed from daily life, objects that thrilled and almost oppressed him. Snatched from all that was familiar in his daily existence, he seemed to grow dizzy and seek support beyond himself. To this the voice of the priests directed him and the cries of the sacred animals were believed to prove a divinity at hand.

Psamtik assumed the posture of a worshipper on the low, gilded and cushioned couch set apart for him, but was unable to pay any real devotion, and passed on to the adjoining apartment before mentioned, where the sacred cows of Isis-Neith and the sparrow-hawk of Horus were kept. These creatures were concealed from the gaze of the worshippers by a curtain of rich fabric embroidered with gold; the people were only allowed an occasional and distant glimpse of the adorable animals. When Psamtik passed they were just being fed; cakes soaked in milk, salt and clover-blossoms were placed in golden cribs for the cows, and small birds of many-colored plumage in the beautifully-wrought and ornamented cage of the sparrow-hawk. But, in his present mood, the heir to the throne of Egypt had no eye for these rare sights; but ascended at once, by means of a hidden staircase, to the chambers lying near the observatory, where the high-priest was accustomed to repose after the temple-service.

Neithotep, a man of seventy years, was seated in a splendid apartment. Rich Babylonian carpets covered the floor and his chair was of gold, cushioned with purple. A tastefully-carved footstool supported his feet, his hands held a roll covered with hieroglyphics, and a boy stood behind him with a fan of ostrich-feathers to keep away the insects.

The face of the old man was deeply lined now, but it might once have been handsome, and in the large blue eyes there still lay evidence of a quick intellect and a dignified self-respect.

His artificial curls had been laid aside, and the bald, smooth head formed a strange contrast to the furrowed countenance, giving an appearance of unusual height to the forehead, generally so very low among the Egyptians. The brightly-colored walls of the room, on which numerous sentences in hieroglyphic characters were painted, the different statues of the goddess painted likewise in gay colors, and the snow-white garments of the aged priest, were calculated to fill a stranger not only with wonder, but with a species of awe.

The old man received the prince with much affection, and asked:

“What brings my illustrious son to the poor servant of the Deity?”

“I have much to report to thee, my father;” answered Psamtik with a triumphant smile, “for I come in this moment from Amasis.”

“Then he has at length granted thee an audience?”

“At length!”

“Thy countenance tells me that thou hast been favorably received by our lord, thy father.”

“After having first experienced his wrath. For, when I laid before him the petition with which thou hadst entrusted me, he was exceeding wroth and nearly crushed me by his awful words.”

“Thou hadst surely grieved him by thy language. Didst thou approach him as I advised thee, with lowliness, as a son humbly beseeching his father?”

“No, my father, I was irritated and indignant.”

“Then was Amasis right to be wrathful, for never should a son meet his father in anger; still less when he hath a request to bring before him. Thou know’st the promise, ‘The days of him that honoreth his father shall be many.’

[This Egyptian command hears a remarkable resemblance to the fifth

in the Hebrew decalogue, both having a promise annexed. It occurs

in the Prisse Papyrus, the most ancient sacred writing extant.]

In this one thing, my scholar, thou errest always; to gain thine ends thou usest violence and roughness, where good and gentle words would more surely prevail. A kind word hath far more power than an angry one, and much may depend on the way in which a man ordereth his speech. Hearken to that which I will now relate. In former years there was a king in Egypt named Snefru, who ruled in Memphis. And it came to pass that he dreamed, and in his dream his teeth fell out of his mouth. And he sent for the soothsayers and told them the dream. The first interpreter answered: ‘Woe unto thee, O king, all thy kinsmen shall die before thee!’ Then was Snefru wroth, caused this messenger of evil to be scourged, and sent for a second interpreter. He answered: ‘O king, live for ever, thy life shall be longer than the life of thy kinsmen and the men of thy house!’ Then the king smiled and gave presents unto this interpreter, for though the interpretations were one, yet he had understood to clothe his message in a web of fair and pleasant words. Apprehendest thou? then hearken to my voice, and refrain from harsh words, remembering that to the ear of a ruler the manner of a man’s speech is weightier than its matter.”

“Oh my father, how often hast thou thus admonished me! how often have I been convinced of the evil consequences of my rough words and angry gestures! but I cannot change my nature, I cannot...”

“Say rather: I will not; for he that is indeed a man, dare never again commit those sins of which he has once repented. But I have admonished sufficiently. Tell me now how thou didst calm the wrath of Amasis.”

“Thou knowest my father. When he saw that he had wounded me in the depths of my soul by his awful words, he repented him of his anger. He felt he had been too hard, and desired to make amends at any price.”

“He hath a kindly heart, but his mind is blinded, and his senses taken captive,” cried the priest. “What might not Amasis do for Egypt, would he but hearken to our counsel, and to the commandments of the gods!”

“But hear me, my father! in his emotion he granted me the life of Phanes!”

“Thine eyes flash, Psamtik! that pleaseth me not. The Athenian must die, for he has offended the gods; but though he that condemns must let justice have her way, he should have no pleasure in the death of the condemned; rather should he mourn. Now speak; didst thou obtain aught further?”

“The king declared unto me to what house Nitetis belongs.”

“And further naught?”

“No, my father; but art thou not eager to learn?... ”

“Curiosity is a woman’s vice; moreover, I have long known all that thou canst tell me.”

“But didst thou not charge me but yesterday to ask my father this question?”

“I did do so to prove thee, and know whether thou wert resigned to the Divine will, and wert walking in those ways wherein alone thou canst become worthy of initiation into the highest grade of knowledge. Thou hast told us faithfully all that thou hast heard, and thereby proved that thou canst obey—the first virtue of a priest.”

“Thou knewest then the father of Nitetis?”

“I myself pronounced the prayer over king Hophra’s tomb.”

“But who imparted the secret to thee?”

“The eternal stars, my son, and my skill in reading them.”

“And do these stars never deceive?”

“Never him that truly understands them.”

Psamtik turned pale. His father’s dream and his own fearful horoscope passed like awful visions through his mind. The priest detected at once the change in his features and said gently: “Thou deem’st thyself a lost man because the heavens prognosticated evil at thy birth; but take comfort, Psamtik; I observed another sign in the heavens at that moment, which escaped the notice of the astrologers. Thy horoscope was a threatening, a very threatening one, but its omens may be averted, they may...”

“O tell me, father, tell me how!”

“They must turn to good, if thou, forgetful of all else, canst live alone to the gods, paying a ready obedience to the Divine voice audible to us their priests alone in the innermost and holiest sanctuary.”

“Father, I am ready to obey thy slightest word.”

“The great goddess Neith, who rules in Sais, grant this, my son!” answered the priest solemnly. “But now leave me alone,” he continued kindly, “lengthened devotions and the weight of years bring weariness. If possible, delay the death of Phanes, I wish to speak with him before he dies. Yet one more word. A troop of Ethiopians arrived yesterday. These men cannot speak a word of Greek, and under a faithful leader, acquainted with the Athenians and the locality, they would be the best agents for getting rid of the doomed man, as their ignorance of the language and the circumstances render treachery or gossip impossible. Before starting for Naukratis, they must know nothing of the design of their journey; the deed once accomplished, we can send them back to Kush.—[The Egyptian name for Ethiopia.] Remember, a secret can never be too carefully kept! Farewell.” Psamtik had only left the room a few moments, when a young priest entered, one of the king’s attendants.

“Have I listened well, father?” he enquired of the old man.

“Perfectly, my son. Nothing of that which passed between Amasis and Psamtik has escaped thine ears. May Isis preserve them long to thee!”

“Ah, father, a deaf man could have heard every word in the ante-chamber to-day, for Amasis bellowed like an ox.”

“The great Neith has smitten him with the lack of prudence, yet I command thee to speak of the Pharaoh with more reverence. But now return, keep thine eyes open and inform me at once if Amasis, as is possible, should attempt to thwart the conspiracy against Phanes. Thou wilt certainly find me here. Charge the attendants to admit no one, and to say I am at my devotions in the Holy of holies. May the ineffable One protect thy footsteps!”

[Isis, the wife or sister of Osiris, is the phenomena of nature, by

means of which the god is able to reveal himself to human

contemplation.]

..................................

While Psamtik was making every preparation for the capture of Phanes, Croesus, accompanied by his followers, had embarked on board a royal bark, and was on his way down the Nile to spend the evening with Rhodopis.

His son Gyges and the three young Persians remained in Sais, passing the time in a manner most agreeable to them.

Amasis loaded them with civilities, allowed them, according to Egyptian custom, the society of his queen and of the twin-sisters, as they were called, taught Gyges the game of draughts, and looking on while the strong, dexterous, young heroes joined his daughters in the game of throwing balls and hoops, so popular among Egyptian maidens, enlivened their amusements with an inexhaustible flow of wit and humor.

[The Pharaohs themselves, as well as their subjects, were in the

habit of playing at draughts and other similar games. Rosellini

gives its Rameses playing with his daughter; see also two Egyptians

playing together, Wilkinson II. 419. An especially beautiful

draught-board exists in the Egyptian collection at the Louvre

Museum. The Egyptians hoped to be permitted to enjoy these

pleasures even in the other world.]

[Balls that have been found in the tombs are still to be seen; some,

for instance, in the Museum at Leyden.]

“Really,” said Bartja, as he watched Nitetis catching the slight hoop, ornamented with gay ribbons, for the hundredth time on her slender ivory rod, “really we must introduce this game at home. We Persians are so different from you Egyptians. Everything new has a special charm for us, while to you it is just as hateful. I shall describe the game to Our mother Kassandane, and she will be delighted to allow my brother’s wives this new amusement.”

“Yes, do, do!” exclaimed the fair Tachot blushing deeply. “Then Nitetis can play too, and fancy herself back again at home and among those she loves; and Bartja,” she added in a low voice, “whenever you watch the hoops flying, you too must remember this hour.”

“I shall never forget it,” answered he with a smile, and then, turning to his future sister-in-law, he called out cheerfully, “Be of good courage, Nitetis, you will be happier than you fancy with us. We Asiatics know how to honor beauty; and prove it by taking many wives.”

Nitetis sighed, and the queen Ladice exclaimed, “On the contrary, that very fact proves that you understand but poorly how to appreciate woman’s nature! You can have no idea, Bartja, what a woman feels on finding that her husband—the man who to her is more than life itself, and to whom she would gladly and without reserve give up all that she treasures as most sacred—looks down on her with the same kind of admiration that he bestows on a pretty toy, a noble steed, or a well-wrought wine-bowl. But it is yet a thousand-fold more painful to feel that the love which every woman has a right to possess for herself alone, must be shared with a hundred others!”

“There speaks the jealous wife!” exclaimed Amasis. “Would you not fancy that I had often given her occasion to doubt my faithfulness?”

“No, no, my husband,” answered Ladice, “in this point the Egyptian men surpass other nations, that they remain content with that which they have once loved; indeed I venture to assert that an Egyptian wife is the happiest of women.

[According to Diodorus (I. 27) the queen of Egypt held a higher

position than the king himself. The monuments and lists of names

certainly prove that women could rule with sovereign power. The

husband of the heiress to the throne became king. They had their

own revenues (Diodorus I. 52) and when a princess, after death, was

admitted among the goddesses, she received her own priestesses.

(Edict of Canopus.) During the reigns of the Ptolemies many coins

were stamped with the queen’s image and cities were named for them.

We notice also that sons, in speaking of their descent, more

frequently reckon it from the mother’s than the father’s side, that

a married woman is constantly alluded to as the “mistress” or “lady”

of the house, that according to many a Greek Papyrus they had entire

disposal of all their property, no matter in what it consisted, in

short that the weaker sex seems to have enjoyed equal influence with

the stronger.]

Even the Greeks, who in so many things may serve as patterns to us, do not know how to appreciate woman rightly. Most of the young Greek girls pass their sad childhood in close rooms, kept to the wheel and the loom by their mothers and those who have charge of them, and when marriageable, are transferred to the quiet house of a husband they do not know, and whose work in life and in the state allows him but seldom to visit his wife’s apartments. Only when the most intimate friends and nearest relations are with her husband, does she venture to appear in their midst, and then shyly and timidly, hoping to hear a little of what is going on in the great world outside. Ah, indeed! we women thirst for knowledge too, and there are certain branches of learning at least, which it cannot be right to withhold from those who are to be the mothers and educators of the next generation. What can an Attic mother, without knowledge, without experience, give to her daughters? Naught but her own ignorance. And so it is, that a Hellene, seldom satisfied with the society of his lawful, but, mentally, inferior wife, turns for satisfaction to those courtesans, who, from their constant intercourse with men, have acquired knowledge, and well understand how to adorn it with the flowers of feminine grace, and to season it with the salt of a woman’s more refined and delicate wit. In Egypt it is different. A young girl is allowed to associate freely with the most enlightened men. Youths and maidens meet constantly on festive occasions, learn to know and love one another. The wife is not the slave, but the friend of her husband; the one supplies the deficiencies of the other. In weighty questions the stronger decides, but the lesser cares of life are left to her who is the greater in small things. The daughters grow up under careful guidance, for the mother is neither ignorant nor inexperienced. To be virtuous and diligent in her affairs becomes easy to a woman, for she sees that it increases his happiness whose dearest possession she boasts of being, and who belongs to her alone. The women only do that which pleases us! but the Egyptian men understand the art of making us pleased with that which is really good, and with that alone. On the shores of the Nile, Phocylides of Miletus and Hipponax of Ephesus would never have dared to sing their libels on women, nor could the fable of Pandora have been possibly invented here!”

[Simonides of Amorgos, an Iambic poet, who delighted in writing

satirical verses on women. He divides them into different classes,

which he compares to unclean animals, and considers that the only

woman worthy of a husband and able to make him happy must be like

the bee. The well-known fable of Pandora owes its origin to

Simonides. He lived about 650 B. C. The Egyptians too, speak very

severely of bad women, comparing them quite in the Simonides style

to beasts of prey (hyenas, lions and panthers). We find this

sentence on a vicious woman: She is a collection of every kind of

meanness, and a bag full of wiles. Chabas, Papyr. magrque Harris.

p. 135. Phocylides of Miletus, a rough and sarcastic, but

observant man, imitated Simonides in his style of writing. But the

deformed Hipponax of Ephesus, a poet crushed down by poverty, wrote

far bitterer verses than Phocylides. He lived about 550 B. C. “His

own ugliness (according to Bernhardy) is reflected in every one of

his Choliambics.” ]

“How beautifully you speak!” exclaimed Bartja. “Greek was not easy to learn, but I am very glad now that I did not give it up in despair, and really paid attention to Croesus’ lessons.”

“Who could those men have been,” asked Darius, “who dared to speak evil of women?”

“A couple of Greek poets,” answered Amasis, “the boldest of men, for I confess I would rather provoke a lioness than a woman. But these Greeks do not know what fear is. I will give you a specimen of Hipponax’s Poetry:

“There are but two days when a wife,

Brings pleasure to her husband’s life,

The wedding-day, when hopes are bright,

And the day he buries her out of his sight.”

“Cease, cease,” cried Ladice stopping her ears, that is too had. Now, Persians, you can see what manner of man Amasis is. For the sake of a joke, he will laugh at those who hold precisely the same opinion as himself. There could not be a better husband.

“Nor a worse wife,” laughed Amasis. “Thou wilt make men think that I am a too obedient husband. But now farewell, my children; our young heroes must look at this our city of Sais; before parting, however, I will repeat to them what the malicious Siuionides has sung of a good wife:

“Dear to her spouse from youth to age she grows;

Fills with fair girls and sturdy boys his house;

Among all women womanliest seems,

And heavenly grace about her mild brow gleams.

A gentle wife, a noble spouse she walks,

Nor ever with the gossip mongers talks.

Such women sometimes Zeus to mortals gives,

The glory and the solace of their lives.”

“Such is my Ladice! now farewell!”

“Not yet!” cried Bartja. “Let me first speak in defence of our poor Persia and instil fresh courage into my future sister-in-law; but no! Darius, thou must speak, thine eloquence is as great as thy skill in figures and swordsmanship!”

“Thou speakst of me as if I were a gossip or a shopkeeper,”—[This nickname, which Darius afterwards earned, is more fully spoken of]—answered the son of Hystaspes. “Be it so; I have been burning all this time to defend the customs of our country. Know then, Ladice, that if Auramazda dispose the heart of our king in his own good ways, your daughter will not be his slave, but his friend. Know also, that in Persia, though certainly only at high festivals, the king’s wives have their places at the men’s table, and that we pay the highest reverence to our wives and mothers. A king of Babylon once took a Persian wife; in the broad plains of the Euphrates she fell sick of longing for her native mountains; he caused a gigantic structure to be raised on arches, and the summit thereof to be covered with a depth of rich earth; caused the choicest trees and flowers to be planted there, and watered by artificial machinery. This wonder completed, he led his wife thither; from its top she could look down into the plains below, as from the heights of Rachined, and with this costly gift he presented her. Tell me, could even an Egyptian give more?”

[This stupendous erection is said to have been constructed by

Nebuchadnezzar for his Persian wife Amytis. Curtius V. 5.

Josephus contra Apion. I. 19. Antiquities X. II. 1. Diod. II. 10.

For further particulars relative to the hanging-gardens, see later

notes.]

“And did she recover?” asked Nitetis, without raising her eyes.

“She recovered health and happiness; and you too will soon feel well and happy in our country.”

“And now,” said Ladice with a smile, “what, think you, contributed most to the young queen’s recovery? the beautiful mountain or the love of the husband, who erected it for her sake?”

“Her husband’s love,” cried the young girls.

“But Nitetis would not disdain the mountain either,” maintained Bartja, “and I shall make it my care that whenever the court is at Babylon, she has the hanging-gardens for her residence.”

“But now come,” exclaimed Amasis, “unless you wish to see the city in darkness. Two secretaries have been awaiting me yonder for the last two hours. Ho! Sachons! give orders to the captain of the guard to accompany our noble guests with a hundred men.”

“But why? a single guide, perhaps one of the Greek officers, would be amply sufficient.”

“No, my young friends, it is better so. Foreigners can never be too prudent in Egypt. Do not forget this, and especially be careful not to ridicule the sacred animals. And now farewell, my young heroes, till we meet again this evening over a merry wine-cup.”

The Persians then quitted the palace, accompanied by their interpreter, a Greek, but who had been brought up in Egypt, and spoke both languages with equal facility.

[Psamtik I. is said to have formed a new caste, viz.: the caste of

Interpreters, out of those Greeks who had been born and bred up in

Egypt. Herod. II. 154. Herodotus himself was probably conducted by

such a “Dragoman.”]

Those streets of Sais which lay near the palace wore a pleasant aspect. The houses, many of which were five stories high, were generally covered with pictures or hieroglyphics; galleries with balustrades of carved and gaily-painted wood-work, supported by columns also brightly painted, ran round the walls surrounding the courts. In many cases the proprietor’s name and rank was to be read on the door, which was, however, well closed and locked. Flowers and shrubs ornamented the flat roofs, on which the Egyptians loved to spend the evening hours, unless indeed, they preferred ascending the mosquito-tower with which nearly every house was provided. These troublesome insects, engendered by the Nile, fly low, and these little watch-towers were built as a protection from them.

The young Persians admired the great, almost excessive cleanliness, with which each house, nay, even the streets themselves, literally shone. The door-plates and knockers sparkled in the sun; paintings, balconies and columns all had the appearance of having been only just finished, and even the street-pavement looked as if it were often scoured.

[The streets of Egyptian towns seem to have been paved, judging from

the ruins of Alabastron and Memphis. We know at least with

certainty that this was the case with those leading to the temples.]

But as the Persians left the neighborhood of the Nile and the palace, the streets became smaller. Sais was built on the slope of a moderately high hill, and had only been the residence of the Pharaohs for two centuries and a half, but, during that comparatively short interval, had risen from an unimportant place into a town of considerable magnitude.

On its river-side the houses and streets were brilliant, but on the hill-slope lay, with but few more respectable exceptions, miserable, poverty-stricken huts constructed of acacia-boughs and Nile-mud. On the north-west rose the royal citadel.

“Let us turn back here,” exclaimed Gyges to his young companions. During his father’s absence he was responsible as their guide and protector, and now perceived that the crowd of curious spectators, which had hitherto followed them, was increasing at every step.

“I obey your orders,” replied the interpreter, “but yonder in the valley, at the foot of that hill, lies the Saitic city of the dead, and for foreigners I should think that would be of great interest.”

“Go forward!” cried Bartja. “For what did we leave Persia, if not to behold these remarkable objects?”

On arriving at an open kind of square surrounded by workmen’s booths, and not far from the city of the dead, confused cries rose among the crowd behind them.

[Artisans, as well among the ancient as the modern Egyptians, were

accustomed to work in the open air.]

The children shouted for joy, the women called out, and one voice louder than the rest was heard exclaiming: “Come hither to the fore-court of the temple, and see the works of the great magician, who comes from the western oases of Libya and is endowed with miraculous gifts by Chunsu, the giver of good counsels, and by the great goddess Hekt.”

“Follow me to the small temple yonder,” said the interpreter, “and you will behold a strange spectacle.” He pushed a way for himself and the Persians through the crowd, obstructed in his course by many a sallow woman and naked child; and at length came back with a priest, who conducted the strangers into the fore-court of the temple. Here, surrounded by various chests and boxes, stood a man in the dress of a priest; beside him on the earth knelt two negroes. The Libyan was a man of gigantic stature, with great suppleness of limb and a pair of piercing black eyes. In his hand he held a wind-instrument resembling a modern clarionet, and a number of snakes, known in Egypt to be poisonous, lay coiling themselves over his breast and arms.

On finding himself in the presence of the Persians he bowed low, inviting them by a solemn gesture to gaze at his performances; he then cast off his white robe and began all kinds of tricks with the snakes.

He allowed them to bite him, till the blood trickled down his cheeks; compelled them by the notes of his flute to assume an erect position and perform a kind of dancing evolution; by spitting into their jaws he transformed them to all appearance into motionless rods; and then, dashing them all on to the earth, performed a wild dance in their midst, yet without once touching a single snake.

Like one possessed, he contorted his pliant limbs until his eyes seemed starting from his head and a bloody foam issued from his lips.

Suddenly he fell to the ground, apparently lifeless. A slight movement of the lips and a low hissing whistle were the only signs of life; but, on hearing the latter, the snakes crept up and twined themselves like living rings around his neck, legs and body. At last he rose, sang a hymn in praise of the divine power which had made him a magician, and then laid the greater number of his snakes in one of the chests, retaining a few, probably his favorites, to serve as ornaments for his neck and arms.

The second part of this performance consisted of clever conjuring-tricks, in which he swallowed burning flax, balanced swords while dancing, their points standing in the hollow of his eye; drew long strings and ribbons out of the noses of the Egyptian children, exhibited the well-known cup-and-ball trick, and, at length, raised the admiration of the spectators to its highest pitch, by producing five living rabbits from as many ostrich-eggs.

The Persians formed no unthankful portion of the assembled crowd; on the contrary, this scene, so totally new, impressed them deeply.

They felt as if in the realm of miracles, and fancied they had now seen the rarest of all Egyptian rarities. In silence they took their way back to the handsomer streets of Sais, without noticing how many mutilated Egyptians crossed their path. These poor disfigured creatures were indeed no unusual sight for Asiatics, who punished many crimes by the amputation of a limb. Had they enquired however, they would have heard that, in Egypt, the man deprived of his hand was a convicted forger, the woman of her nose, an adulteress; that the man without a tongue had been found guilty of high treason or false witness; that the loss of the ears denoted a spy, and that the pale, idiotic-looking woman yonder had been guilty of infanticide, and had been condemned to hold the little corpse three days and three nights in her arms. What woman could retain her senses after these hours of torture?—[Diodorus I. 77.]

The greater number of the Egyptian penal laws not only secured the punishment of the criminal, but rendered a repetition of the offence impossible.

The Persian party now met with a hindrance, a large crowd having assembled before one of the handsomest houses in the street leading to the temple of Neith. The few windows of this house that could be seen (the greater number opening on the garden and court) were closed with shutters, and at the door stood an old man, dressed in the plain white robe of a priest’s servant. He was endeavoring, with loud cries, to prevent a number of men of his own class from carrying a large chest out of the house.

“What right have you to rob my master?” he shrieked indignantly. “I am the guardian of this house, and when my master left for Persia (may the gods destroy that land!) he bade me take especial care of this chest in which his manuscripts lay.”

“Compose yourself, old Hib!” shouted one of these inferior priests, the same whose acquaintance we made on the arrival of the Asiatic Embassy. “We are here in the name of the high-priest of the great Neith, your master’s master. There must be queer papers in this box, or Neithotep would not have honored us with his commands to fetch them.”

“But I will not allow my master’s papers to be stolen,” shrieked the old man. “My master is the great physician Nebenchari, and I will secure his rights, even if I must appeal to the king himself.”

“There,” cried the other, “that will do; out with the chest, you fellows. Carry it at once to the high-priest; and you, old man, would do more wisely to hold your tongue and remember that the high-priest is your master as well as mine. Get into the house as quick as you can, or to-morrow we shall have to drag you off as we did the chest to-day!” So saying, he slammed the heavy door, the old man was flung backward into the house and the crowd saw him no more.

The Persians had watched this scene and obtained an explanation of its meaning from their interpreter. Zopyrus laughed on hearing that the possessor of the stolen chest was the oculist Nebenchari, the same who had been sent to Persia to restore the sight of the king’s mother, and whose grave, even morose temper had procured him but little love at the court of Cambyses.

Bartja wished to ask Amasis the meaning of this strange robbery, but Gyges begged him not to interfere in matters with which he had no concern. Just as they reached the palace, and darkness, which in Egypt so quickly succeeds the daylight, was already stealing over the city, Gyges felt himself hindered from proceeding further by a firm hand on his robe, and perceived a stranger holding his finger on his lips in token of silence.

“When can I speak with you alone and unobserved?” he whispered.

“What do you wish from me?”

“Ask no questions, but answer me quickly. By Mithras, I have weighty matters to disclose.”

“You speak Persian, but your garments would proclaim you an Egyptian.”

“I am a Persian, but answer me quickly or we shall be noticed. When can I speak to you alone?”

“To-morrow morning.”

“That is too late.”

“Well then, in a quarter of an hour, when it is quite dark, at this gate of the palace.”

“I shall expect you.”

So saying the man vanished. Once within the palace, Gyges left Bartja and Zopyrus, fastened his sword into his girdle, begged Darius to do the same and to follow him, and was soon standing again under the great portico with the stranger, but this time in total darkness.

“Auramazda be praised that you are there!” cried the latter in Persian to the young Lydian; “but who is that with you?”

“Darius, the son of Hystaspes, one of the Achaemenidae; and my friend.”

The stranger bowed low and answered, “It is well, I feared an Egyptian had accompanied you.”

“No, we are alone and willing to hear you; but be brief. Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Bubares. I served as a poor captain under the great Cyrus. At the taking of your father’s city, Sardis, the soldiers were at first allowed to plunder freely; but on your wise father’s representing to Cyrus that to plunder a city already taken was an injury to the present, and not to the former, possessor, they were commanded on pain of death to deliver up their booty to their captains, and the latter to cause everything of worth, when brought to them, to be collected in the market-place. Gold and silver trappings lay there in abundance, costly articles of attire studded with precious stones...”

“Quick, quick, our time is short,” interrupted Gyges.

“You are right. I must be more brief. By keeping for myself an ointment-box sparkling with jewels, taken from your father’s palace, I forfeited my life. Croesus, however, pleaded for me with his conqueror Cyrus; my life and liberty were granted me, but I was declared a dishonored man. Life in Persia became impossible with disgrace lying heavily on my soul; I took ship from Smyrna to Cyprus, entered the army there, fought against Amasis, and was brought hither by Phanes as a prisoner-of-war. Having always served as a horse-soldier, I was placed among those slaves who had charge of the king’s horses, and in six years became an overseer. Never have I forgotten the debt of gratitude I owe to your father; and now my turn has come to render him a service.”

“The matter concerns my father? then speak—tell me, I beseech you!”

“Immediately. Has Croesus offended the crown prince?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

“Your father is on a visit to Rhodopis this evening, at Naukratis?”

“How did you hear this?”

“From himself. I followed him to the boat this morning and sought to cast myself at his feet.”

“And did you succeed?”

“Certainly. He spoke a few gracious words with me, but could not wait to hear what I would say, as his companions were already on board when he arrived. His slave Sandon, whom I know, told me that they were going to Naukratis, and would visit the Greek woman whom they call Rhodopis.”

“He spoke truly.”

“Then you must speed to the rescue. At the time that the market-place was full.”

[The forenoon among the Greeks was regulated by the business of the

market. “When the market-place begins to fill, when it is full,

when it becomes empty.” It would be impossible to define this

division of time exactly according to our modern methods of

computation, but it seems certain that the market was over by the

afternoon. The busiest hours were probably from 10 till 1. At the

present day the streets of Athens are crowded during those hours;

but in Summer from two to four o’clock are utterly deserted.]

“Ten carriages and two boats, full of Ethiopian soldiers under the command of an Egyptian captain, were sent off to Naukratis to surround the house of Rhodopis and make captives of her guests.”

“Ha, treachery!” exclaimed Gyges.

“But how can they wish to injure your father?” said Darius. “They know that the vengeance of Cambyses—”

“I only know,” repeated Bubares, “that this night the house of Rhodopis, in which your father is, will be surrounded by Ethiopian soldiers. I myself saw to the horses which transport them thither and heard Pentaur, one of the crown-prince’s fan-bearers, call to them, ‘Keep eyes and ears open, and let the house of Rhodopis be surrounded, lest he should escape by the back door. If possible spare his life, and kill him only if he resist. Bring him alive to Sais, and you shall receive twenty rings of gold.’”

[It is no longer a matter of question, that before the time of the

Persians, and therefore at this point of our history, no money had

been coined in Egypt. The precious metals were weighed out and used

as money in the shape of rings, animals, etc. On many of the

monuments we see people purchasing goods and weighing out the gold

in payment; while others are paying their tribute in gold rings.

These rings were in use as a medium of payment up to the time of the

Ptolemies. Pliny XXXIII. I. Balances with weights in the form of

animals may be seen in Wilkinson. During the reigns of the

Ptolemies many coins were struck.]

“But could that allude to my father?”

“Certainly not,” cried Darius.

“It is impossible to say,” murmured Bubares. “In this country one can never know what may happen.”

“How long does it take for a good horse to reach Naukratis?”

“Three hours, if he can go so long, and the Nile has not overflowed the road too much.”

“I will be there in two.”

“I shall ride with you,” said Darius.

“No, you must remain here with Zopyrus for Bartja’s protection. Tell the servants to get ready.”

“But Gyges—”

“Yes, you will stay here and excuse me to Amasis. Say I could not come to the evening revel on account of headache, toothache, sickness, anything you like.”

“I shall ride Bartja’s Nicaean horse; and you, Bubares, will follow me on Darius’s. You will lend him, my brother?”

“If I had ten thousand, you should have them all.”

“Do you know the way to Naukratis, Bubares?”

“Blindfold.”

“Then go, Darius, and tell them to get your horse and Bartja’s ready! To linger would be sin. Farewell Darius, perhaps forever! Protect Bartja! Once more, farewell!”