CHAPTER XLVI.
Uarda accompanied her grandfather and Praxilla to their tent on thefarther side of the Nile, but she was to return next morning to theEgyptian camp to take leave of all her friends, and to provide for herfather's internment. Nor did she delay attending to the last wishes ofold Hekt, and Bent-Anat easily persuaded her father, when he learnt howgreatly he had been indebted to her, to have her embalmed like a lady ofrank.
Before Uarda left the Egyptian camp, Pentaur came to entreat her toafford her dying preserver Nebsecht the last happiness of seeing heronce more; Uarda acceded with a blush, and the poet, who had watched allnight by his friend, went forward to prepare him for her visit.
Nebsecht's burns and a severe wound on his head caused him greatsuffering; his cheeks glowed with fever, and the physicians told Pentaurthat he probably could not live more than a few hours.
The poet laid his cool hand on his friend's brow, and spoke to himencouragingly; but Nebsecht smiled at his words with the peculiarexpression of a man who knows that his end is near, and said in a lowvoice and with a visible effort:
"A few breaths more and here, and here, will be peace." He laid his handon his head and on his heart.
"We all attain to peace," said Pentaur. "But perhaps only to labor moreearnestly and unweariedly in the land beyond the grave. If the Godsreward any thing it is the honest struggle, the earnest seeking aftertruth; if any spirit can be made one with the great Soul of the world itwill be yours, and if any eye may see the Godhead through the veil whichhere shrouds the mystery of His existence yours will have earned theprivilege."
"I have pushed and pulled," sighed Nebsecht, "with all my might, andnow when I thought I had caught a glimpse of the truth the heavy fist ofdeath comes down upon me and shuts my eyes. What good will it do me tosee with the eye of the Divinity or to share in his omniscience? It isnot seeing, it is seeking that is delightful--so delightful that I wouldwillingly set my life there against another life here for the sake ofit." He was silent, for his strength failed, and Pentaur begged him tokeep quiet, and to occupy his mind in recalling all the hours of joywhich life had given him.
"They have been few," said the leech. "When my mother kissed me and gaveme dates, when I could work and observe in peace, when you opened myeyes to the beautiful world of poetry--that was good!"
And you have soothed the sufferings of many men, added Pentaur, "andnever caused pain to any one."
Nebsecht shook his head.
"I drove the old paraschites," he muttered, "to madness and to death."
He was silent for a long time, then he looked up eagerly and said: "Butnot intentionally--and not in vain! In Syria, at Megiddo I could workundisturbed; now I know what the organ is that thinks. The heart! Whatis the heart? A ram's heart or a man's heart, they serve the same end;they turn the wheel of animal life, they both beat quicker in terror orin joy, for we feel fear or pleasure just as animals do. But Thought,the divine power that flies to the infinite, and enables us to form andprove our opinions, has its seat here--Here in the brain, behind thebrow."
He paused exhausted and overcome with pain. Pentaur thought he waswandering in his fever, and offered him a cooling drink while twophysicians walked round his bed singing litanies; then, as Nebsechtraised himself in bed with renewed energy, the poet said to him:
"The fairest memory of your life must surely be that of the sweet childwhose face, as you once confessed to me, first opened your soul to thesense of beauty, and whom with your own hands you snatched from deathat the cost of your own life. You know Uarda has found her own relativesand is happy, and she is very grateful to her preserver, and would liketo see him once more before she goes far away with her grandfather."
The sick man hesitated before he answered softly:
"Let her come--but I will look at her from a distance."
Pentaur went out and soon returned with Uarda, who remained standingwith glowing cheeks and tears in her eyes at the door of the tent. Theleech looked at her a long time with an imploring and tender expression,then he said:
"Accept my thanks--and be happy."
The girl would have gone up to him to take his hand, but he waved heroff with his right hand enveloped in wrappings.
"Come no nearer," he said, "but stay a moment longer. You have tears inyour eyes; are they for me or only for my pain?"
"For you, good noble man! my friend and my preserver!" said Uarda. "Foryou dear, poor Nebsecht!" The leech closed his eyes as she spoke thesewords with earnest feeling, but he looked up once more as she ceasedspeaking, and gazed at her with tender admiration; then he said softly:
"It is enough--now I can die."
Uarda left the tent, Pentaur remained with him listening to his hoarseand difficult breathing; suddenly:
Nebsecht raised himself, and said: "Farewell, my friend,--my journey isbeginning, who knows whither?"
"Only not into vacancy, not to end in nothingness!" cried Pentaurwarmly.
The leech shook his head. "I have been something," he said, "and beingsomething I cannot become nothing. Nature is a good economist, andutilizes the smallest trifle; she will use me too according to her need.She brings everything to its end and purpose in obedience to some ruleand measure, and will so deal with me after I am dead; there is nowaste. Each thing results in being that which it is its function tobecome; our wish or will is not asked--my head! when the pain is in myhead I cannot think--if only I could prove--could prove----"
The last words were less and less audible, his breath was choked, and ina few seconds Pentaur with deep regret closed his eyes.
Pentaur, as he quitted the tent where the dead man lay, met thehigh-priest Ameni, who had gone to seek him by his friend's bed-side,and they returned together to gaze on the dead. Ameni, with muchemotion, put up a few earnest prayers for the salvation of his soul, andthen requested Pentaur to follow him without delay to his tent. On theway he prepared the poet, with the polite delicacy which was peculiar tohim, for a meeting which might be more painful than joyful to him, andmust in any case bring him many hours of anxiety and agitation.
The judges in Thebes, who had been compelled to sentence the ladySetchem, as the mother of a traitor, to banishment to the mines had,without any demand on her part, granted leave to the noble and mostrespectable matron to go under an escort of guards to meet the king onhis return into Egypt, in order to petition for mercy for herself, butnot, as it was expressly added--for Paaker; and she had set out, butwith the secret resolution to obtain the king's grace not for herselfbut for her son.
[Agatharchides, in Diodorus III. 12, says that in many cases not only the criminal but his relations also were condemned to labor in the mines. In the convention signed between Rameses and the Cheta king it is expressly provided that the deserter restored to Egypt shall go unpunished, that no injury shall be done "to his house, his wife or his children, nor shall his mother be put to death."]
Ameni had already left Thebes for the north when this sentence waspronounced, or he would have reversed it by declaring the true originof Paaker; for after he had given up his participation in the Regent'sconspiracy, he no longer had any motive for keeping old Hekt's secret.
Setchem's journey was lengthened by a storm which wrecked the ship inwhich she was descending the Nile, and she did not reach Pelusium tillafter the king. The canal which formed the mouth of the Nile closeto this fortress and joined the river to the Mediterranean, was soover-crowded with the boats of the Regent and his followers, of theambassadors, nobles, citizens, and troops which had met from all partsof the country, that the lady's boat could find anchorage only at agreat distance from the city, and accompanied by her faithfulsteward she had succeeded only a few hours before in speaking to thehigh-priest.
Setchem was terribly changed; her eyes, which only a few months sincehad kept an efficient watch over the wealthy Theban household, were nowdim and weary, and although her figure had not grown thin it had lostits dignity and energy, and seemed inert and feebl
e. Her lips, so readyfor a wise or sprightly saying, were closely shut, and moved only insilent prayer or when some friend spoke to her of her unhappy son. Hisdeed she well knew was that of a reprobate, and she sought no excuse ordefence; her mother's heart forgave it without any. Whenever she thoughtof him--and she thought of him incessantly all through the day andthrough her sleepless nights-her eyes overflowed with tears.
Her boat had reached Pelusium just as the flames were breaking out inthe palace; the broad flare of light and the cries from the variousvessels in the harbor brought her on deck. She heard that the burninghouse was the pavilion erected by Ani for the king's residence; Ramesesshe was told was in the utmost danger, and the fire had beyond a doubtbeen laid by traitors.
As day broke and further news reached her, the names of her son and ofher sister came to her ear; she asked no questions--she would not hearthe truth--but she knew it all the same; as often as the word "traitor"caught her ear in her cabin, to which she had retreated, she felt as ifsome keen pain shot through her bewildered brain, and shuddered as iffrom a cold chill.
All through that day she could neither eat nor drink, but lay withclosed eyes on her couch, while her steward--who had soon learnt what aterrible share his former master had taken in the incendiarism, andwho now gave up his lady's cause for lost--sought every where for thehigh-priest Ameni; but as he was among the persons nearest to the kingit was impossible to see him that day, and it was not till the nextmorning that he was able to speak with him. Ameni inspired the anxiousand sorrowful old retainer with, fresh courage, returned with him inhis own chariot to the harbor, and accompanied him to Setchem's boatto prepare her for the happiness which awaited her after her terribletroubles. But he came too late, the spirit of the poor lady was quiteclouded, and she listened to him without any interest while he stroveto restore her to courage and to recall her wandering mind. She onlyinterrupted him over and over again with the questions: "Did he do it?"or "Is he alive?"
At last Ameni succeeded in persuading her to accompany him in her litterto his tent, where she would find her son. Pentaur was wonderfully likeher lost husband, and the priest, experienced in humanity, thought thatthe sight of him would rouse the dormant powers of her mind. When shehad arrived at his tent, he told her with kind precaution the wholehistory of the exchange of Paaker for Pentaur, and she followed thestory with attention but with indifference, as if she were hearing ofthe adventures of others who did not concern her. When Ameni enlarged onthe genius of the poet and on his perfect resemblance to his dead fathershe muttered:
"I know--I know. You mean the speaker at the Feast of the Valley,"and then although she had been told several times that Paaker had beenkilled, she asked again if her son was alive.
Ameni decided at last to fetch Pentaur himself,
When he came back with him, fully prepared to meet his heavily-strickenmother, the tent was empty. The high-priest's servants told him thatSetchem had persuaded the easily-moved old prophet Gagabu to conduct herto the place where the body of Paaker lay. Ameni was very much vexed,for he feared that Setchem was now lost indeed, and he desired the poetto follow him at once.
The mortal remains of the pioneer had been laid in a tent not far fromthe scene of the fire; his body was covered with a cloth, but his paleface, which had not been injured in his fall, remained uncovered; by hisside knelt the unhappy mother.
She paid no heed to Ameni when he spoke to her, and he laid his hand onher shoulder and said as he pointed to the body:
"This was the son of a gardener. You brought him up faithfully as if hewere your own; but your noble husband's true heir, the son you bore him,is Pentaur, to whom the Gods have given not only the form and featuresbut the noble qualities of his father. The dead man may be forgiven--forthe sake of your virtues; but your love is due to this nobler soul--thereal son of your husband, the poet of Egypt, the preserver of the king'slife."
Setchem rose and went up to Pentaur, she smiled at him and stroked hisface and breast.
"It is he," she said. "May the Immortals bless him!"
Pentaur would have clasped her in his arms, but she pushed him away asif she feared to commit some breach of faith, and turning hastily to thebier she said softly:
"Poor Paaker--poor, poor Paaker!"
"Mother, mother, do you not know your son?" cried Pentaur deeply moved.
She turned to him again: "It is his voice," she said. "It is he."
She went up to Pentaur, clung to him, clasped her arm around his neck ashe bent over her, then kissing him fondly:
"The Gods will bless you!" she said once more. She tore herself fromhim and threw herself down by the body of Paaker, as if she had done himsome injustice and robbed him of his rights.
Thus she remained, speechless and motionless, till they carried her backto her boat, there she lay down, and refused to take any nourishment;from time to time she whispered "Poor Paaker!" She no longer repelledPentaur, for she did not again recognize him, and before he left her shehad followed the rough-natured son of her adoption to the other world.
CHAPTER XLVII.
The king had left the camp, and had settled in the neighboring city ofRameses' Tanis, with the greater part of his army. The Hebrews, who weresettled in immense numbers in the province of Goshen, and whom Ani hadattached to his cause by remitting their task-work, were now drivento labor at the palaces and fortifications which Rameses had begun tobuild.
At Tanis, too, the treaty of peace was signed and was presented toRameses inscribed on a silver tablet by Tarthisebu, the representativeof the Cheta king, in the name of his lord and master.
Pentaur followed the king as soon as he had closed his mother's eyes,and accompanied her body to Heliopolis, there to have it embalmed; fromthence the mummy was to be sent to Thebes, and solemnly placed in thegrave of her ancestors. This duty of children towards their parents,and indeed all care for the dead, was regarded as so sacred by theEgyptians, that neither Pentaur nor Bent-Anat would have thought ofbeing united before it was accomplished.
On the 21st day of the month Tybi, of the 21st year of the reign ofRameses, the day on which the peace was signed, the poet returned toTanis, sad at heart, for the old gardener, whom he had regarded andloved as his father, had died before his return home; the good old manhad not long survived the false intelligence of the death of the poet,whom he had not only loved but reverenced as a superior being bestowedupon his house as a special grace from the Gods.
It was not till seven months after the fire at Pelusium that Pentaur'smarriage with Bent-Anat was solemnized in the palace of the Pharaohs atThebes; but time and the sorrows he had suffered had only united theirhearts more closely. She felt that though he was the stronger she wasthe giver and the helper, and realized with delight that like the sun,which when it rises invites a thousand flowers to open and unfold, theglow of her presence raised the poet's oppressed soul to fresh lifeand beauty. They had given each other up for lost through strife andsuffering, and now had found each other again; each knew how preciousthe other was. To make each other happy, and prove their affection, wasnow the aim of their lives, and as they each had proved that they prizedhonor and right-doing above happiness their union was a true marriage,ennobling and purifying their souls. She could share his deepestthoughts and his most difficult undertakings, and if their housewere filled with children she would know how to give him the fullestenjoyment of those small blessings which at the same time are thegreatest joys of life.
Pentaur finding himself endowed by the king with superabundant wealth,gave up the inheritance of his fathers to his brother Horus, who wasraised to the rank of chief pioneer as a reward for his interpositionat the battle of Kadesh; Horus replaced the fallen cedar-trees which hadstood at the door of his house by masts of more moderate dimensions.
The hapless Huni, under whose name Pentaur had been transferred to themines of Sinai, was released from the quarries of Chennu, and restoredto his children enriched by gifts from the poet.
The Pharaoh fu
lly recognized the splendid talents of his daughter'shusband; she to his latest days remained his favorite child, even afterhe had consolidated the peace by marrying the daughter of the Chetaking, and Pentaur became his most trusted adviser, and responsible forthe weightiest affairs in the state.
Rameses learned from the papers found in Ani's tent, and from otherevidence which was only too abundant, that the superior of the House ofSeti, and with him the greater part of the priesthood, had for a longtime been making common cause with the traitor; in the first instancehe determined on the severest, nay bloodiest punishment, but he waspersuaded by Pentaur and by his son Chamus to assert and support theprinciples of his government by milder and yet thorough measures.Rameses desired to be a defender of religion--of the religion whichcould carry consolation into the life of the lowly and over-burdened,and give their existence a higher and fuller meaning--the religion whichto him, as king, appeared the indispensable means of keeping the grandsignificance of human life ever present to his mind--sacred as theinheritance of his fathers, and useful as the school where the people,who needed leading, might learn to follow and obey.
But nevertheless no one, not even the priests, the guardians of souls,could be permitted to resist the laws of which he was the bulwark,to which he himself was subject, and which enjoined obedience to hisauthority; and before he left Tanis he had given Ameni and his followersto understand that he alone was master in Egypt.
The God Seth, who had been honored by the Semite races since the time ofthe Hyksos, and whom they called upon under the name of Baal, had fromthe earliest times never been allowed a temple on the Nile, as being theGod of the stranger; but Rameses--in spite of the bold remonstrances ofthe priestly party who called themselves the 'true believers'--raiseda magnificent temple to this God in the city of Tanis to supply thereligious needs of the immigrant foreigners. In the same spiritof toleration he would not allow the worship of strange Gods to beinterfered with, though on the other hand he was jealous in honoringthe Egyptian Gods with unexampled liberality. He caused temples to beerected in most of the great cities of the kingdom, he added to thetemple of Ptah at Memphis, and erected immense colossi in front of itspylons in memory of his deliverance from the fire.
[One of these is still in existence. It lies on the ground among the ruins of ancient Memphis.]
In the Necropolis of Thebes he had a splendid edifice constructed-whichto this day delights the beholder by the symmetry of its proportions inmemory of the hour when he escaped death as by a miracle; on its pylonhe caused the battle of Kadesh to be represented in beautiful picturesin relief, and there, as well as on the architrave of the greatbanqueting--hall, he had the history inscribed of the danger he had runwhen he stood "alone and no man with him!"
By his order Pentaur rewrote the song he had sung at Pelusium; it ispreserved in three temples, and, in fragments, on several papyrus-rollswhich can be made to complete each other. It was destined to become thenational epic--the Iliad of Egypt.
Pentaur was commissioned to transfer the school of the House of Setito the new votive temple, which was called the House of Rameses,and arrange it on a different plan, for the Pharaoh felt that it wasrequisite to form a new order of priests, and to accustom the ministersof the Gods to subordinate their own designs to the laws of the country,and to the decrees of their guardian and ruler, the king. Pentaur wasmade the superior of the new college, and its library, which was called"the hospital for the soul," was without an equal; in this academy,which was the prototype of the later-formed museum and library ofAlexandria, sages and poets grew up whose works endured for thousandsof years--and fragments of their writings have even come down to us. Themost famous are the hymns of Anana, Pentaur's favorite disciple, and thetale of the two Brothers, composed by Gagabu, the grandson of the oldProphet.
Ameni did not remain in Thebes. Rameses had been informed of the way inwhich he had turned the death of the ram to account, and the use he hadmade of the heart, as he had supposed it, of the sacred animal, andhe translated him without depriving him of his dignity or revenues toMendes, the city of the holy rams in the Delta, where, as he observednot without satirical meaning, he would be particularly intimate withthese sacred beasts; in Mendes Ameni exerted great influence, and inspite of many differences of opinion which threatened to sever them, heand Pentaur remained fast friends to the day of his death.
In the first court of the House of Rameses there stands--now brokenacross the middle--the wonder of the traveller, the grandest colossusin Egypt, made of the hardest granite, and exceeding even the well-knownstatue of Memnon in the extent of its base. It represents Rameses theGreat. Little Scherau, whom Pentaur had educated to be a sculptor,executed it, as well as many other statues of the great sovereign ofEgypt.
A year after the burning of the pavilion at Pelusium Rameri sailed tothe land of the Danaids, was married to Uarda, and then remained in hiswife's native country, where, after the death of her grandfather, heruled over many islands of the Mediterranean and became the founder of agreat and famous race. Uarda's name was long held in tender remembranceby their subjects, for having grown up in misery she understood thesecret of alleviating sorrow and relieving want, and of doing good andgiving happiness without humiliating those she benefitted. THE END.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
A dirty road serves when it makes for the goal Age when usually even bad liquor tastes of honey An admirer of the lovely color of his blue bruises Ardently they desire that which transcends sense Ask for what is feasible Bearers of ill ride faster than the messengers of weal Blossom of the thorny wreath of sorrow Called his daughter to wash his feet Colored cakes in the shape of beasts Deficient are as guilty in their eyes as the idle Desert is a wonderful physician for a sick soul Do not spoil the future for the sake of the present Drink of the joys of life thankfully, and in moderation Every misfortune brings its fellow with it Exhibit one's happiness in the streets, and conceal one's misery Eyes kind and frank, without tricks of glance For fear of the toothache, had his sound teeth drawn Hatred for all that hinders the growth of light Hatred between man and man He is clever and knows everything, but how silly he looks now He who looks for faith must give faith Her white cat was playing at her feet How easy it is to give wounds, and how hard it is to heal How tender is thy severity Human sacrifices, which had been introduced into Egypt by the Phoenicians I know that I am of use I have never deviated from the exact truth even in jest If it were right we should not want to hide ourselves Impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player It is not seeing, it is seeking that is delightful Judge only by appearances, and never enquire into the causes Kisra called wine the soap of sorrow Learn early to pass lightly over little things Learn to obey, that later you may know how to command Like the cackle of hens, which is peculiar to Eastern women Man has nothing harder to endure than uncertainty Many creditors are so many allies Medicines work harm as often as good Money is a pass-key that turns any lock No good excepting that from which we expect the worst No one so self-confident and insolent as just such an idiot None of us really know anything rightly Obstinacy--which he liked to call firm determination Often happens that apparent superiority does us damage One falsehood usually entails another One should give nothing up for lost excepting the dead Only the choice between lying and silence Our thinkers are no heroes, and our heroes are no sages Overbusy friends are more damaging than intelligent enemies Patronizing friendliness Prepare sorrow when we come into the world Principle of over-estimating the strength of our opponents Provide yourself with a self-devised ruler Refreshed by the whip of one of the horsemen Repugnance for the old laws began to take root in his heart Seditious words are like sparks, which are borne by the wind Successes, like misfortunes, never come singly The beginning of things is not mor
e attractive The scholar's ears are at his back: when he is flogged The man within him, and not on the circumstances without The dressing and undressing of the holy images The experienced love to signify their superiority The mother of foresight looks backwards Think of his wife, not with affection only, but with pride Those whom we fear, says my uncle, we cannot love Thou canst say in words what we can only feel Thought that the insane were possessed by demons Title must not be a bill of fare Trustfulness is so dear, so essential to me Use words instead of swords, traps instead of lances We quarrel with no one more readily than with the benefactor Whether the form of our benevolence does more good or mischief Youth should be modest, and he was assertive
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