Georg Ebers - Premium Collection: Historical Novels, Stories & Autobiography. Georg Ebers
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the sweet voices of the women, singing the most captivating songs to the most enchanting dances, for Isis had found a portion of her husband’s body at every fire and was rejoicing.
“That was something for you, Zopyrus! I know of no words to describe the grace of those girls’ movements, or how beautiful it was to see them first mingling in intricate confusion, then suddenly standing in faultless, unbroken lines, falling again into the same lovely tumult and passing once more into order, and all this with the greatest swiftness. Bright rays of light flashed from their whirling ranks all the time, for each dancer had a mirror fastened between her shoulders, which flashed while she was in motion, and reflected the scene when she was still.
“Just as Isis had found the last limb but one of the murdered Osiris, loud songs of triumph and the flourish of trumpets resounded from the opposite shore.
“Horus had conquered Typhon, and was forcing his way into the nether regions to free his father. The gate to this lower world opened on the west side of the lake and was guarded by a fierce female hippopotamus.
“And now a lovely music of flutes and harps came nearer and nearer, heavenly perfumes rose into the air, a rosy light spread over the sacred grove, growing brighter every minute, and Osiris came up from the lower world, led by his victorious son. Isis hastened to embrace her risen and delivered husband, gave the beautiful Horus his lotus-flower again instead of the sword, and scattered fruits and flowers over the earth, while Osiris seated himself under a canopy wreathed with ivy, and received the homage of all the spirits of the earth and of the Amenti.”
[The lower world, in Egyptian Amenti, properly speaking, the West or
kingdom of death, to which the soul returns at the death of the
body, as the sun at his setting. In a hieroglyphic inscription of
the time of the Ptolemies the Amenti is called Hades.]
Darius was silent. Rhodopis began:
“We thank you for your charming account; but this strange spectacle must have a higher meaning, and we should thank you doubly if you would explain that to us.”
“Your idea is quite right,” answered Darius, “but what I know I dare not tell. I was obliged to promise Neithotep with an oath, not to tell tales out of school.”
“Shall I tell you,” asked Rhodopis, “what conclusions various hints from Pythagoras and Onuphis have led me to draw, as to the meaning of this drama? Isis seems to me to represent the bountiful earth; Osiris, humidity or the Nile, which makes the earth fruitful; Horus, the young spring; Typhon, the scorching drought. The bounteous earth, robbed of her productive power, seeks this beloved husband with lamentations in the cooler regions of the north, where the Nile discharges his waters. At last Horus, the young springing power of nature, is grown up and conquers Typhon, or the scorching drought. Osiris, as is the case with the fruitful principle of nature, was only apparently dead, rises from the nether regions and once more rules the blessed valley of the Nile, in concert with his wife, the bounteous earth.”
“And as the murdered god behaved properly in the lower regions,” said Zopyrus, laughing, “he is allowed, at the end of this odd story, to receive homage from the inhabitants of Hamestegan, Duzakh and Gorothman, or whatever they call these abodes for the Egyptian spirit-host.”
“They are called Amenti,” said Darius, falling into his friend’s merry mood; “but you must know that the history of this divine pair represents not only the life of nature, but also that of the human soul, which, like the murdered Osiris, lives an eternal life, even when the body is dead.”
“Thank you,” said the other; “I’ll try to remember that if I should chance to die in Egypt. But really, cost what it may, I must see this wonderful sight soon.”
“Just my own wish,” said Rhodopis. “Age is inquisitive.”
“You will never be old,” interrupted Darius. “Your conversation and your features have remained alike beautiful, and your mind is as clear and bright as your eyes.”
“Forgive me for interrupting you,” said Rhodopis, as if she had not heard his flattering words, “but the word ‘eyes’ reminds me of the oculist Nebenchari, and my memory fails me so often, that I must ask you what has become of him, before I forget. I hear nothing now of this skilful operator to whom the noble Kassandane owes her sight.”
“He is much to be pitied,” replied Darius. “Even before we reached Pelusium he had begun to avoid society, and scorned even to speak with his countryman Onuphis. His gaunt old servant was the only being allowed to wait on or be with him. But after the battle his whole behavior changed. He went to the king with a radiant countenance, and asked permission to accompany him to Sais, and to choose two citizens of that town to be his slaves. Cambyses thought he could not refuse anything to the man, who had been such a benefactor to his mother, and granted him full power to do what he wished. On arriving at Amasis’ capital, he went at once to the temple of Neith, caused the high-priest (who had moreover placed himself at the head of the citizens hostile to Persia), to be arrested, and with him a certain oculist named Petammon. He then informed them that, as punishment for the burning of certain papers, they would be condemned to serve a Persian to whom he should sell them, for the term of their natural lives, and to perform the most menial services of slaves in a foreign country. I was present at this scene, and I assure you I trembled before the Egyptian as he said these words to his enemies. Neithotep, however, listened quietly, and when Nebenchari had finished, answered him thus: If thou, foolish son, hast betrayed thy country for the sake of thy burnt manuscripts, the deed has been neither just nor wise. I preserved thy valuable works with the greatest care, laid them up in our temple, and sent a complete copy to the library at Thebes. Nothing was burnt but the letters from Amasis to thy father, and a worthless old chest. Psamtik and Petammon were present, and it was then and there resolved that a new family tomb in the city of the dead should be built for thee as a compensation for the loss of papers, which, in order to save Egypt, we were unfortunately forced to destroy. On its walls thou canst behold pleasing paintings of the gods to whom thou hast devoted thy life, the most sacred chapters from the book of the dead, and many other beautiful pictures touching thine own life and character.”
“The physician turned very pale—asked first to see his books, and then his new and beautifully-fitted-up tomb. He then gave his slaves their freedom, (notwithstanding which they were still taken to Memphis as prisoners of war), and went home, often passing his hand across his forehead on the way, and with the uncertain step of one intoxicated. On reaching his house he made a will, bequeathing all he possessed to the grandson of his old servant Hib, and, alleging that he was ill, went to bed. The next morning he was found dead. He had poisoned himself with the fearful strychnos-juice.”
“Miserable man” said Croesus. “The gods had blinded him, and he reaped despair instead of revenge, as a reward for his treachery.”
“I pity him,” murmured Rhodopis. “But look, the rowers are taking in their oars. We are at the end of our journey; there are your litters and carriages waiting for you. It was a beautiful trip. Farewell, my dear ones; come to Naukratis soon, I shall return at once with Theopompus and Syloson. Give little Parmys a thousand kisses from me, and tell Melitta never to take her out at noon. It is dangerous for the eyes. Good-night, Croesus; good-night, friends, farewell my dear son.”
The Persians left the vessel with many a nod and farewell word, and Bartja, looking round once more, missed his footing and fell on the landing-pier.
He sprang up in a moment without Zopyrus’ help, who came running back, calling out, “Take care, Bartja! It’s unlucky to fall in stepping ashore. I did the very same thing, when we left the ship that time at Naukratis.”
CHAPTER XIV.
While our friends were enjoying their row on the Nile, Cambyses’ envoy, Prexaspes, had returned from a mission to the long-lived Ethiopians. He praised