CHAPTER V
The vivacious
Greek broke forth in expressions of joy and congratulations; after which the
Egyptian said, with characteristic gravity:
"I salute
you, my brother. You have suffered much, and I rejoice in your triumph. If you
are both pleased to hear me, I will now tell you who I am, and how I came to be
called. Wait for me a moment."
He went out and
tended the camels; coming back, he resumed his seat.
"Your words,
brethren, were of the Spirit," he said, in commencement; "and the
Spirit gives me to understand them. You each spoke particularly of your
countries; in that there was a great object, which I will explain; but to make
the interpretation complete, let me first speak of myself and my people. I am
Balthasar the Egyptian."
The last words
were spoken quietly, but with so much dignity that both listeners bowed to the
speaker.
"There are
many distinctions I might claim for my race," he continued; "but I
will content myself with one. History began with us. We were the first to
perpetuate events by records kept. So we have no traditions; and instead of
poetry, we offer you certainty. On the facades of palaces and temples, on
obelisks, on the inner walls of tombs, we wrote the names of our kings, and what
they did; and to the delicate papyri we intrusted the wisdom of our
philosophers and the secrets of our religion - all the secrets but one, whereof
I will presently speak. Older than the Vedas of Para-Brahm or the Up-Angas of
Vyasa, O Melchior; older than the songs of Homer or the metaphysics of Plato, O
my Gaspar; older than the sacred books or kings of the people of China, or
those of Siddartha, son of the beautiful Maya; older than the Genesis of Mosche
the Hebrew - oldest of human records are the writings of Menes, our first
king." Pausing an instant, he fixed his large eves kindly upon the Greek,
saying, "In the youth of Hellas, who, O Gaspar, were the teachers of her
teachers?"
The Greek bowed,
smiling.
"By those
records," Balthasar continued, "we know that when the fathers came
from the far East, from the region of the birth of the three sacred rivers,
from the centre of the earth - the Old Iran of which you spoke, O Melchior - came
bringing with them the history of the world before the Flood, and of the Flood
itself, as given to the Aryans by the sons of Noah, they taught God, the
Creator and the Beginning, and the Soul, deathless as God. When the duty which
calls us now is happily done, if you choose to go with me, I will show you the
sacred library of our priesthood; among others, the Book of the Dead, in which
is the ritual to be observed by the soul after Death has despatched it on its
journey to judgment. The ideas - God and the Immortal Soul - were borne to
Mizraim over the desert, and by him to the banks of the Nile. They were then in
their purity, easy of understanding, as what God intends for our happiness
always is; so, also, was the first worship - a song and a prayer natural to a
soul joyous, hopeful, and in love with its Maker."
Here the Greek
threw up his hands, exclaiming, "Oh! the light deepens within me!"
"And in
me!" said the Hindoo, with equal fervor.
The Egyptian
regarded them benignantly, then went on, saying, "Religion is merely the
law which binds man to his Creator: in purity it has but these elements - God,
the Soul, and their Mutual Recognition; out of which, when put in practise,
spring Worship, Love, and Reward. This law, like all others of divine origin - like
that, for instance, which binds the earth to the sun - was perfected in the
beginning by its Author. Such, my brothers, was the religion of the first
family; such was the religion of our father Mizraim, who could not have been
blind to the formula of creation, nowhere so discernible as in the first faith
and the earliest worship. Perfection is God; simplicity is perfection. The
curse of curses is that men will not let truths like these alone."
He stopped, as if
considering in what manner to continue.
"Many
nations have loved the sweet waters of the Nile," he said next; "the
Ethiopian, the Pali-Putra, the Hebrew, the Assyrian, the Persian, the
Macedonian, the Roman - of whom all, except the Hebrew, have at one time or
another been its masters. So much coming and going of peoples corrupted the old
Mizraimic faith. The Valley of Palms became a Valley of Gods. The Supreme One
was divided into eight, each personating a creative principle in nature, with
Ammon-Re at the head. Then Isis and Osiris, and their circle, representing
water, fire, air, and other forces, were invented. Still the multiplication
went on until we had another order, suggested by human qualities, such as
strength, knowledge, love, and the like."
"In all
which there was the old folly!" cried the Greek, impulsively. "Only
the things out of reach remain as they came to us."
The Egyptian
bowed, and proceeded:
"Yet a
little further, O my brethren, a little further, before I come to myself. What
we go to will seem all the holier of comparison with what is and has been. The
records show that Mizraim found the Nile in possession of the Ethiopians, who
were spread thence through the African desert; a people of rich, fantastic
genius, wholly given to the worship of nature. The Poetic Persian sacrificed to
the sun, as the completest image of Ormuzd, his God; the devout children of the
far East carved their deities out of wood and ivory; but the Ethiopian, without
writing, without books, without mechanical faculty of any kind, quieted his
soul by the worship of animals, birds, and insects, holding the cat sacred to
Re, the bull to Isis, the beetle to Pthah. A long struggle against their rude
faith ended in its adoption as the religion of the new empire. Then rose the
mighty monuments that cumber the river-bank and the desert - obelisk,
labyrinth, pyramid, and tomb of king, blent with tomb of crocodile. Into such
deep debasement, O brethren, the sons of the Aryan fell!"
Here, for the
first time, the calmness of the Egyptian forsook him: though his countenance
remained impassive, his voice gave way.
"Do not too
much despise my countrymen," he began again. "They did not all forget
God. I said awhile ago, you may remember, that to papyri we intrusted all the
secrets of our religion except one; of that I will now tell you. We had as king
once a certain Pharaoh, who lent himself to all manner of changes and
additions. To establish the new system, he strove to drive the old entirely out
of mind. The Hebrews then dwelt with us as slaves. They clung to their God; and
when the persecution became intolerable, they were delivered in a manner never
to be forgotten. I speak from the records now. Mosche, himself a Hebrew, came
to the palace, and demanded permission for the slaves, then millions in number,
to leave the country. The demand was in the name of the Lord God of Israel. Pharaoh
refused. Hear what followed. First, all the water, that in the lakes and
rivers, like that in the wells and vessels, turned to blood. Yet the monarch
refused. Then frogs came up and covered all the land. Still he was firm. Then
Mosche threw ashes in the air, and a plague attacked the Egyptians. Next, all
the cattle, except of the Hebrews, were struck dead. Locusts devoured the green
things of the valley. At noon the day was turned into a darkness so thick that
lamps would not burn. Finally, in the night all the first-born of the Egyptians
died; not even Pharaoh's escaped. Then he yielded. But when the Hebrews were
gone he followed them with his army. At the last moment the sea was divided, so
that the fugitives passed it dry-shod. When the pursuers drove in after them,
the waves rushed back and drowned horse, foot, charioteers, and king. You spoke
of revelation, my Gaspar - "
The blue eyes of
the Greek sparkled.
"I had the
story from the Jew," he cried. "You confirm it, O Balthasar!"
"Yes, but
through me Egypt speaks, not Mosche. I interpret the marbles. The priests of
that time wrote in their way what they witnessed, and the revelation has lived.
So I come to the one unrecorded secret. In my country, brethren, we have, from
the day of the unfortunate Pharaoh, always had two religions - one private, the
other public; one of many gods, practised by the people; the other of one God,
cherished only by the priesthood. Rejoice with me, O brothers! All the
trampling by the many nations, all the harrowing by kings, all the inventions
of enemies, all the changes of time, have been in vain. Like a seed under the
mountains waiting its hour, the glorious Truth has lived; and this - this is
its day!"
The wasted frame
of the Hindoo trembled with delight, and the Greek cried aloud, "It seems
to me the very desert is singing."
From a gurglet of
water near-by the Egyptian took a draught, and proceeded:
"I was born
at Alexandria, a prince and a priest, and had the education usual to my class.
But very early I became discontented. Part of the faith imposed was that after
death upon the destruction of the body, the soul at once began its former
progression from the lowest up to humanity, the highest and last existence; and
that without reference to conduct in the mortal life. When I heard of the
Persian's Realm of Light, his Paradise across the bridge Chinevat, where only
the good go, the thought haunted me; insomuch that in the day, as in the night,
I brooded over the comparative ideas Eternal Transmigration and Eternal Life in
Heaven. If, as my teacher taught, God was just, why was there no distinction
between the good and the bad? At length it became clear to me, a certainty, a
corollary of the law to which I reduced pure religion, that death was only the
point of separation at which the wicked are left or lost, and the faithful rise
to a higher life; not the nirvana of Buddha, or the negative rest of Brahma, O
Melchior; nor the better condition in hell, which is all of Heaven allowed by
the Olympic faith, O Gaspar; but life - life active, joyous, everlasting - LIFE
WITH GOD! The discovery led to another inquiry. Why should the Truth be longer
kept a secret for the selfish solace of the priesthood? The reason for the
suppression was gone. Philosophy had at least brought us toleration. In Egypt
we had Rome instead of Rameses. One day, in the Brucheium, the most splendid
and crowded quarter of Alexandria, I arose and preached. The East and West
contributed to my audience. Students going to the Library, priests from the Serapeion,
idlers from the Museum, patrons of the race-course, countrymen from the
Rhacotis - a multitude - stopped to hear me. I preached God, the Soul, Right
and Wrong, and Heaven, the reward of a virtuous life. You, O Melchior, were
stoned; my auditors first wondered, then laughed. I tried again; they pelted me
with epigrams, covered my God with ridicule, and darkened my Heaven with
mockery. Not to linger needlessly, I fell before them."
The Hindoo here
drew a long sigh, as he said, "The enemy of man is man, my brother."
Balthasar lapsed
into silence.
"I gave much
thought to finding the cause of my failure, and at last succeeded," he
said, upon beginning again. "Up the river, a day's journey from the city,
there is a village of herdsmen and gardeners. I took a boat and went there. In
the evening I called the people together, men and women, the poorest of the
poor. I preached to them exactly as I had preached in the Brucheium. They did
not laugh. Next evening I spoke again, and they believed and rejoiced, and
carried the news abroad. At the third meeting a society was formed for prayer.
I returned to the city then. Drifting down the river, under the stars, which
never seemed so bright and so near, I evolved this lesson: To begin a reform,
go not into the places of the great and rich; go rather to those whose cups of
happiness are empty - to the poor and humble. And then I laid a plan and
devoted my life. As a first step, I secured my vast property, so that the
income would be certain, and always at call for the relief of the suffering.
From that day, O brethren, I travelled up and down the Nile, in the villages,
and to all the tribes, preaching One God, a righteous life, and reward in
Heaven. I have done good - it does not become me to say how much. I also know
that part of the world to be ripe for the reception of Him we go to find."
A flush suffused
the swarthy cheek of the speaker; but he overcame the feeling, and continued:
"The years
so given, O my brothers, were troubled by one thought - When I was gone, what
would become of the cause I had started? Was it to end with me? I had dreamed
many times of organization as a fitting crown for my work. To hide nothing from
you, I had tried to effect it, and failed. Brethren, the world is now in the
condition that, to restore the old Mizraimic faith, the reformer must have a
more than human sanction; he must not merely come in God's name, he must have
the proofs subject to his word; he must demonstrate all he says, even God. So
preoccupied is the mind with myths and systems; so much do false deities crowd
every place - earth, air, sky; so have they become of everything a part, that
return to the first religion can only be along bloody paths, through fields of
persecution; that is to say, the converts must be willing to die rather than
recant. And who in this age can carry the faith of men to such a point but God
himself? To redeem the race - I do not mean to destroy it - to REDEEM the race,
he must make himself once more manifest; HE MUST COME IN PERSON."
Intense emotion
seized the three.
"Are we not
going to find him?" exclaimed the Greek.
"You
understand why I failed in the attempt to organize," said the Egyptian,
when the spell was past. "I had not the sanction. To know that my work
must be lost made me intolerably wretched. I believed in prayer, and to make my
appeals pure and strong, like you, my brethren, I went out of the beaten ways,
I went where man had not been, where only God was. Above the fifth cataract,
above the meeting of rivers in Sennar, up the Bahr el Abiad, into the far
unknown of Africa, I went. There, in the morning, a mountain blue as the sky
flings a cooling shadow wide over the western desert, and, with its cascades of
melted snow, feeds a broad lake nestling at its base on the east. The lake is
the mother of the great river. For a year and more the mountain gave me a home.
The fruit of the palm fed my body, prayer my spirit. One night I walked in the
orchard close by the little sea. 'The world is dying. When wilt thou come? Why
may I not see the redemption, O God?' So I prayed. The glassy water was
sparkling with stars. One of them seemed to leave its place, and rise to the
surface, where it became a brilliancy burning to the eyes. Then it moved
towards me, and stood over my head, apparently in hand's reach. I fell down and
hid my face. A voice, not of the earth, said, 'Thy good works have conquered.
Blessed art thou, O son of Mizraim! The redemption cometh. With two others,
from the remotenesses of the world, thou shalt see the Saviour, and testify for
him. In the morning arise, and go meet them. And when ye have all come to the
holy city of Jerusalem, ask of the people, Where is he that is born King of the
Jews? for we have seen his star in the East and are sent to worship him. Put
all thy trust in the Spirit which will guide thee.'
"And the
light became an inward illumination not to be doubted, and has stayed with me,
a governor and a guide. It led me down the river to Memphis, where I made ready
for the desert. I bought my camel, and came hither without rest, by way of Suez
and Kufileh, and up through the lands of Moab and Ammon. God is with us, O my
brethren!"
He paused, and
thereupon, with a prompting not their own, they all arose, and looked at each
other.
"I said
there was a purpose in the particularity with which we described our people and
their histories," so the Egyptian proceeded. "He we go to find was
called 'King of the Jews;' by that name we are bidden to ask for him. But, now
that we have met, and heard from each other, we may know him to be the
Redeemer, not of the Jews alone, but of all the nations of the earth. The
patriarch who survived the Flood had with him three sons, and their families,
by whom the world was repeopled. From the old Aryana-Vaejo, the well-remembered
Region of Delight in the heart of Asia, they parted. India and the far East
received the children of the first; the descendant of the youngest, through the
North, streamed into Europe; those of the second overflowed the deserts about
the Red Sea, passing into Africa; and though most of the latter are yet
dwellers in shifting tents, some of them became builders along the Nile."
By a simultaneous
impulse the three joined hands.
"Could
anything be more divinely ordered?" Balthasar continued. "When we
have found the Lord, the brothers, and all the generations that have succeeded
them, will kneel to him in homage with us. And when we part to go our separate
ways, the world will have learned a new lesson - that Heaven may be won, not by
the sword, not by human wisdom, but by Faith, Love, and Good Works."
There was
silence, broken by sighs and sanctified with tears; for the joy that filled
them might not be stayed. It was the unspeakable joy of souls on the shores of
the River of Life, resting with the Redeemed in God's presence.
Presently their
hands fell apart, and together they went out of the tent. The desert was still
as the sky. The sun was sinking fast. The camels slept.
A little while
after, the tent was struck, and, with the remains of the repast, restored to
the cot; then the friends mounted, and set out single file, led by the
Egyptian. Their course was due west, into the chilly night. The camels swung
forward in steady trot, keeping the line and the intervals so exactly that
those following seemed to tread in the tracks of the leader. The riders spoke
not once.
By-and-by the
moon came up. And as the three tall white figures sped, with soundless tread,
through the opalescent light, they appeared like specters flying from hateful
shadows. Suddenly, in the air before them, not farther up than a low hill-top
flared a lambent flame; as they looked at it, the apparition contracted into a
focus of dazzling lustre. Their hearts beat fast; their souls thrilled; and
they shouted as with one voice, "The Star! the Star! God is with us!"
CHAPTER VI
In an aperture of
the western wall of Jerusalem hang the "oaken valves" called the
Bethlehem or Joppa Gate. The area outside of them is one of the notable places
of the city. Long before David coveted Zion there was a citadel there. When at
last the son of Jesse ousted the Jebusite, and began to build, the site of the
citadel became the northwest corner of the new wall, defended by a tower much
more imposing than the old one. The location of the gate, however, was not
disturbed, for the reasons, most likely, that the roads which met and merged in
front of it could not well be transferred to any other point, while the area
outside had become a recognized market-place. In Solomon's day there was great
traffic at the locality, shared in by traders from Egypt and the rich dealers
from Tyre and Sidon. Nearly three thousand years have passed, and yet a kind of
commerce clings to the spot. A pilgrim wanting a pin or a pistol, a cucumber or
a camel, a house or a horse, a loan or a lentil, a date or a dragoman, a melon
or a man, a dove or a donkey, has only to inquire for the article at the Joppa
Gate. Sometimes the scene is quite animated, and then it suggests, What a place
the old market must have been in the days of Herod the Builder! And to that
period and that market the reader is now to be transferred.
Following the
Hebrew system, the meeting of the wise men described in the preceding chapters
took place in the afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the third month of the
year; that is say, on the twenty-fifth day of December. The year was the second
of the 193d Olympiad, or the 747th of Rome; the sixty-seventh of Herod the
Great, and the thirty-fifth of his reign; the fourth before the beginning of
the Christian era. The hours of the day, by Judean custom, begin with the sun,
the first hour being the first after sunrise; so, to be precise; the market at
the Joppa Gate during the first hour of the day stated was in full session, and
very lively. The massive valves had been wide open since dawn. Business, always
aggressive, had pushed through the arched entrance into a narrow lane and
court, which, passing by the walls of the great tower, conducted on into the
city. As Jerusalem is in the hill country, the morning air on this occasion was
not a little crisp. The rays of the sun, with their promise of warmth, lingered
provokingly far up on the battlements and turrets of the great piles about,
down from which fell the crooning of pigeons and the whir of the flocks coming
and going.
As a passing
acquaintance with the people of the Holy City, strangers as well as residents,
will be necessary to an understanding of some of the pages which follow, it
will be well to stop at the gate and pass the scene in review. Better
opportunity will not offer to get sight of the populace who will afterwhile go
forward in a mood very different from that which now possesses them.
The scene is at
first one of utter confusion - confusion of action, sounds, colors, and things.
It is especially so in the lane and court. The ground there is paved with broad
unshaped flags, from which each cry and jar and hoof-stamp arises to swell the
medley that rings and roars up between the solid impending walls. A little
mixing with the throng, however, a little familiarity with the business going
on, will make analysis possible.
Here stands a
donkey, dozing under panniers full of lentils, beans, onions, and cucumbers,
brought fresh from the gardens and terraces of Galilee. When not engaged in
serving customers, the master, in a voice which only the initiated can
understand, cries his stock. Nothing can be simpler than his costume - sandals,
and an unbleached, undyed blanket, crossed over one shoulder and girt round the
waist. Near-by, and far more imposing and grotesque, though scarcely as patient
as the donkey, kneels a camel, raw-boned, rough, and gray, with long shaggy
tufts of fox-colored hair under its throat, neck, and body, and a load of boxes
and baskets curiously arranged upon an enormous saddle. The owner is an Egyptian,
small, lithe, and of a complexion which has borrowed a good deal from the dust
of the roads and the sands of the desert. He wears a faded tarbooshe, a loose
gown, sleeveless, unbelted, and dropping from the neck to the knee. His feet
are bare. The camel, restless under the load, groans and occasionally shows his
teeth; but the man paces indifferently to and fro, holding the driving-strap,
and all the time advertising his fruits fresh from the orchards of the Kedron -
grapes, dates, figs, apples, and pomegranates.
At the corner
where the lane opens out into the court, some women sit with their backs
against the gray stones of the wall. Their dress is that common to the humbler
classes of the country - a linen frock extending the full length of the person,
loosely gathered at the waist, and a veil or wimple broad enough, after
covering the head, to wrap the shoulders. Their merchandise is contained in a
number of earthen jars, such as are still used in the East for bringing water
from the wells, and some leathern bottles. Among the jars and bottles, rolling
upon the stony floor, regardless of the crowd and cold, often in danger but
never hurt, play half a dozen half-naked children, their brown bodies, jetty
eyes, and thick black hair attesting the blood of Israel. Sometimes, from under
the wimples, the mothers look up, and in the vernacular modestly bespeak their
trade: in the bottles "honey of grapes," in the jars "strong
drink." Their entreaties are usually lost in the general uproar, and they
fare illy against the many competitors: brawny fellows with bare legs, dirty
tunics, and long beards, going about with bottles lashed to their backs, and
shouting "Honey of wine! Grapes of En-Gedi!" When a customer halts
one of them, round comes the bottle, and, upon lifting the thumb from the
nozzle, out into the ready cup gushes the deep-red blood of the luscious berry.
Scarcely less
blatant are the dealers in birds - doves, ducks, and frequently the singing
bulbul, or nightingale, most frequently pigeons; and buyers, receiving them
from the nets, seldom fail to think of the perilous life of the catchers, bold
climbers of the cliffs; now hanging with hand and foot to the face of the crag,
now swinging in a basket far down the mountain fissure.
Blent with
peddlers of jewelry - sharp men cloaked in scarlet and blue, top-heavy under
prodigious white turbans, and fully conscious of the power there is in the
lustre of a ribbon and the incisive gleam of gold, whether in bracelet or
necklace, or in rings for the finger or the nose - and with peddlers of
household utensils, and with dealers in wearing-apparel, and with retailers of
unguents for anointing the person, and with hucksters of all articles, fanciful
as well as of need, hither and thither, tugging at halters and ropes, now
screaming, now coaxing, toil the venders of animals - donkeys, horses, calves,
sheep, bleating kids, and awkward camels; animals of every kind except the
outlawed swine. All these are there; not singly, as described, but many times
repeated; not in one place, but everywhere in the market.
Turning from this
scene in the lane and court, this glance at the sellers and their commodities,
the reader has need to give attention, in the next place, to visitors and
buyers, for which the best studies will be found outside the gates, where the
spectacle is quite as varied and animated; indeed, it may be more so, for there
are superadded the effects of tent, booth, and sook, greater space, larger
crowd, more unqualified freedom, and the glory of the Eastern sunshine.
