CHAPTER X.

FAITH AND PHILOSOPHY.

During the time that Arius and Theckla had been absent at the hermitage of Am-nem-hat, a great change had occurred in the condition of the Egyptian lady, Hatasa, at the Baucalis cottage. Early in the morning she had fallen into a profound slumber, but before noon she had awakened suddenly, and in a moment afterward the whole house was filled with her bitter wailing. All at once the terrible sense of loss had overwhelmed her mind with impassioned force, and in heart-broken tones she repeated the name of her husband over and over again, and momently called aloud for "Theckla, darling Theckla! Where is my daughter, my only child?"

Then with great tenderness Arete told her that Theckla was well and happy, and would soon return with her own son, with whom she had gone to visit a near neighbor. The poor woman's grief seemed hopeless and unendurable. At one moment she would yearningly lament the loss of her husband, and at the next reproach the gods of Egypt with his destruction, and then, perhaps, pray to them in tones of hopeless supplication. "O Ra and Thoth!" she cried, "ye murderous, heartless gods, that have so cruelly bereft me, have pity upon Amosis, whom ye have snatched away to the under-world! O merciless and fearful Ma-t, that hast never had compassion upon any mortal, thou terrible Two Truths in thy dark halls sitting, unmoved by sorrow or pain, in the gloom of mournful Amenti, soften once thy stony heart, that thou mayst feel the sharpness of our earthly woe, so that thou judge not mine Amosis until I have builded his sarcophagus. O thou Hesiri-Hes! that cometh nearer to our human life than other dreadful deities, restore my husband's body to the land, that with due honors and uncounted cost I yet may have his mummy-rites prepared to smooth his pathway through the under-world!" Then, seeming to realize the uselessness of any prayer in the absence of the ceremonies of a funeral, she moaned in hopeless grief: "O terrible! to be cut off in youth, with no sarcophagus builded, and no mummy-cloth--cast off alone and friendless, into the darkness of Amenti! O fearful fate! to be called up for judgment, like a pauper, before the merciless, unsparing Ma-t!"

And so she would cry, as loudly as her feebleness permitted, until exhausted nature enforced silence upon her wailing lips.

"She calleth upon the ancient, fearful gods of Kem," said old Thopt, in a half-terrified whisper to Arete.

"She is without God and without hope in the world," whispered Arete. "May the compassionate Lord pity her and bring unto her the consolations of his grace!"

"My heart weeps for her," whispered old Thopt; "for the Egyptians are not as the Christians are. They have a shuddering horror of death, and it is to them the sum of all possible wretchedness."

And so the weary hours passed slowly, and, at last, came Theckla and Arius home; and the girl, bounding into her mother's room, cast her arms about her and kissed her passionately. And when the mother broke out into renewed wailings, the daughter said: "Nay, mother, why dost thou lament so bitterly? Surely thou art much better now, and father will soon return to comfort thee. Cheer up thyself with the hope of speedily returning health and strength."

"Alas! alas! thy father will return no more!--no more! Ah, nevermore!"

Then with startled, wondering eyes, the young girl gazed into her mother's face, crying out: "What meanest thou? He hath always come back from every absence joyously; why sayst thou 'No more--ah, never, more,' so sorrowfully? Surely he must again return to us!"

Then it seemed apparent enough that these Egyptians had such an awful terror of death, and the girl had been so carefully guarded against all knowledge thereof, that she could scarcely realize what thing was meant thereby; for the Egyptians said nothing of "death," but only, "He hath gone hence," or "He is the Hesiri justified."

"He is dead, poor child!" moaned the mother, "swallowed up forever by the cruel, unrelenting sea! Thou wilt see his face, and hear his voice, and spring to meet his fond caress no more," she wailed--"no more!"

"Is he, then, the Hesiri justified?" she asked, a nameless wonder and terror taking hold upon her soul.

"Oh, thou wilt break all my heart!" she answered. "He hath died without a sarcophagus and the mummy-cloth. How shall he, then, dare to meet the dreadful Ma-t in the dark hall wherein she sitteth as the Two Truths, judge of all the dead?"

Then the full desolation of her father's awful fate, and of her own mighty loss, for the first time swept her young heart with terrible distinctness, and, sinking down beside her mother, the girl blended her broken-hearted wailings with the woman's bitter cries.

"Leave them together," said Arete, and she and old Thopt quietly withdrew. And she informed Ammonius of the sorrowful condition of their guests, and, with her dark eyes full of sympathetic tears, she said, "It is a harrowing grief, and I was so young when I became a Christian, and view death so differently from them, that I know not how to offer consolation for such sorrow."

"Thou shalt leave them alone for the present," answered Ammonius. "The Egyptians have no consolation except those which their erroneous faith buildeth upon the sarcophagus and the mummy-rites--all external consolations--of which, in such a case as this, they are deprived. Let them alone. Perhaps the Lord will show us some way to aid them, or their violent grief will wear out itself in lamentations. All thou canst do is but to wait and hope."

The long night passed wearily away. Arete and old Thopt divided the watches thereof between them, as they had done ever since Hatasa came to Baucalis, to see that she wanted no attention which kindness could supply; but neither of them knew how to utter soothing words unto a grief that seemed so hopeless; for the religion of Egypt contained no word of comfort for such grief, and the beautiful idolaters were ignorant of that of Jesus. All that mother and daughter knew of religious faith kept forcing back upon their broken hearts the dreadful conviction that the soul's condition after death depended upon the building of a sarcophagus and the preparation of the mummy, in accordance with the rites prescribed in "The Book of the Dead"; and in such a case as this no mummy-rites could be paid unless the corpse could be recovered; and, although the sarcophagus might be builded, they did not know but that the father and husband whom they loved might be judged by the awful goddess Ma-t before this work could be completed; and none of the exceptions made by their religion in favor of those who fell in battle for the rulers of Egypt, or who perished by shipwreck, applied to the case of Amosis, for he had lost his life in a private quarrel after the shipwreck had happened. Their hopeless sorrow was pitiful, indeed; but the young girl fell back upon a final truth when she kept repeating to her mother, over and over again, her own convictions in such words as these: "Thou knowest that he was a good and upright man, doing only what he did believe to be right and just, and surely the greatest God of all, by whatever name he may be known, will be most merciful to him without a sarcophagus or the mummy-rites." And so the young idolater, not knowing the law, but doing by nature the things which are written in the law, became a law unto herself, and the unknown God, whom she did ignorantly worship to that extent which was commensurate with her faith, revealed himself unto her; and even from this unreasoning hope they both drew something of comfort. And during the night Theckla informed her mother of her visit to the old eremite Am-nem-hat, and of his having been priest at Thebes and high-priest at Ombos; and how ancient, wise, and good he seemed to be; and that he had promised to come to the cottage on the following day, and expressed the hope that out of his vast stores of wisdom he might be able to bring forth some truth that would yield them surer consolation; and this also somewhat comforted that bitterly smitten pair.

And early the next morning Arius went to the abode of Am-nem-hat, leading the she-ass on which his mother was accustomed to ride, and, having got the ancient comfortably seated upon the jennet, he led her down the mountain and unto the cottage of Baucalis safely, where all were awaiting the arrival of the priest to whose visit Hatasa looked forward with vague but earnest hope. And, when the old man had come, Ammonius, with great respect and tenderness, assisted him to dismount, and led him unto the house. And, having most kindly received him, they told him of the sorrowful woman, and how anxiously she had anticipated his coming, and he said, "Let me go unto her at once."

And, when he had entered her chamber, he stood in the middle of the floor, and, with his raised and extended arms crossed at the wrists in likeness of a cross (for the cross is ages older than Jesus), he looked upon Hatasa, saying: "Whatever God is greater than Ra, whatever God is wiser than Ptah, and whatever God is more merciful than Hesiri-Hes, and more just than Ma-t, by whatsoever name the great God of all ought to be known among men, I invoke him to bless and comfort thee, O daughter of affliction. May that truest and highest God lift up the light of his face upon thee and give thee peace!"

Then, sitting down beside her couch, he took her hand in his, saying kindly, "Daughter, what is thy name?"

"Hatasa," answered she.

"Art thou of Alexandria?"

"Yea," she said. "But my family were of Thebes, where lived and died my father Ahmad, and my grandfather, Butau, and many generations more."

"Butau, of Thebes!" said the old man. "Hast thou, then, never heard of Am-nem-hat, priest at Thebes, high-priest at Ombos?"

"Surely so," she answered. "For the same wise and holy priest was the brother of my grandfather Butau, the great general, and I have often heard my parents speak of the sacred priest with reverence and pride."

"I am that Am-nem-hat, and thou hast found a kinsman in whom thou mayst implicitly confide."

Then seized she his hand, and, kissing it, she cried, "I do rejoice thereat, and welcome thee as kinsman, and as sacred priest most pious and most wise."

Then she poured out to him the burden of her heart, and asked him if there was any hope, her husband having builded no sarcophagus, and having had no mummy-rites. And the old man answered mournfully, "Daughter, as an Alexandrian, thou shouldst know the vast temple of Serapis which standeth before the magnificent street, two hundred feet wide, in Rhacotis, the western and Egyptian quarter of the city--the grand and beautiful temple which containeth the statue of the god that was brought thither out of Pontus?"

"Yea, father," answered she, "from childhood I have known the holy temple well."

"And didst thou also know the wise and pious Raph-nath, high-priest of that temple, who died there some fifteen years ago?"

"Yea, verily, I remember him quite well."

"He and I were boys, at Thebes, in the great temple together. All his lifetime we were friends. When he felt that his physical powers were failing, and that the end of his long and holy life was fast approaching, he sent unto me to come to him and spend his last days with him; and so it happened that I was at Alexandria when the ancient high-priest died. We did talk much and often of our long religious lives; much, of our learned ignorance; much, of the destiny of the human soul; much, of the truth. When I did ask of him whether he had any special request to make concerning his own funeral rites, he answered me in some such words as these: 'Nay, my brother. Let the obsequies be simply conducted, but in accordance with the rites and ceremonies prescribed for a priest's funeral by 'The Book of the Dead.' For although both thou and I be well aware that the sarcophagus is naught, and the mummy naught, and that no rites nor ceremonies which men can devise in any way concern the soul after death, yet, because the law and order system of Kem hath been for so many centuries built up on these vain things, I desire that the usual forms be all observed at mine own funeral. Although surely no high-priest of Egypt ought to think that it can make any difference to the soul how, or when, or by what means, a man may depart this life, or whether any funeral rites are paid or not; for thou knowest that the true purpose of religion is to control the living, and that the dead are far beyond the reach of human agencies.'

"'On what, then, dependeth thy soul's condition in the other world?' I said.

"'Surely,' he said, 'upon nothing that any priest can do or leave undone, but upon whether the man hath done his duties well according to the best of his faith and knowledge.'

"And afterward, and almost in the hour of his dissolution, I said unto him again, 'Brother, how farest thou?' And he answered me, saying: 'The light of life within me burneth low and flickereth. It will soon go out. But I fare well and peacefully.'

"'And thou hast no fear of awful Ma-t, my brother, and of the silent hall wherein the Two Truths judge the dead?'

"And smilingly he answered me: 'Nay, Brother Am-nem-hat. No man attaineth to the high-priesthood in Egypt without having learned that the things of which thou speakest are for the people--not for the higher priests--part of the system which we administer, not final truths for us. For I know, as thou also knowest, that above and beyond the grand Egyptian triads, there must be some supreme God over all whom we ignorantly worship; who is patient because he is eternal, and merciful because he is all-wise; and having all these years discharged, as faithfully as human frailties might permit, every duty that came under my hand, I look away above the gods of Kem, and trust myself unshrinkingly in the hands of the unknown God, in whom we both believe.' And, almost in the same moment, the old man quietly departed.--Daughter, for thee and for thy great sorrow there is no consolation in the religion of Egypt. All of the consolation I can offer is to tell thee plainly that the things which the high-priest Raph-nath declared unto me upon his bed of death are true; and, as the sum of all my learning and priestly life, I say unto thee that thou canst do nothing else for thyself, nor for thy husband, nor for any human soul, except to cast thyself and him upon the mercy of the unknown God, hoping and believing that all is for the best."

The old man's voice was tremulous, and his grand, pure face was full of compassion as he uttered these words in tones of inexpressible and uncomplaining sadness, and with impressive earnestness.

"And this is all?" she cried--"all that the old religion of Kem, stripped of its outward, ornate forms and ceremonies, has to offer to the broken-hearted?"

"Yea," answered Am-nem-hat. "This is all, indeed. And it is little; and the prevailing sadness of all wise men grows out of this; yet the heart that loves and trusts may find that even this is enough to reconcile it to the grand and pitiless course of nature. So saith the philosopher Seneca: 'We shall adore all that ignoble crowd of gods which ancient superstition hath gathered together in a long course of years, only so as to remember that their worship is rather in accordance with custom than with reality or truth.' And again he saith, 'The God is near you, is with you, is within you'; and again, 'There is no good man without God.'

"And Epictetus also saith: 'If you remember always that, in all you do in soul or body, God stands by as a witness, in all your prayers and your actions you will not err, and you shall have God dwelling within you.' And he saith: 'Great is the struggle, divine the need; it is for kingdom, for freedom, for tranquillity, for peace. Think on God; call upon him, thy champion and aid, as sailors invoke the great twin brothers in the storm. And, indeed, what storm is greater than that which ariseth out of powerful semblances (appearances of evil), that drive reason out of its course? What, indeed, but semblance is a storm itself? Come, now, therefore, remove this fear of death, and bring as many thunders and lightnings as thou wilt, and thou shalt soon perceive how great tranquillity and calm are in that reason which is the ruling faculty of the soul.' And he saith further: 'Thou must be absolutely resigned to the will of God. Thou must conquer every passion, abrogate every desire.' And one greater, sadder, diviner than them all, even Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic Emperor, declareth: 'Surely life and death, honor and dishonor, pain and pleasure, all things happen equally to bad men and good, being things that make us neither better nor worse, therefore are they neither good nor evil.' And he saith of every man: 'Thou hast embarked, thou hast made the voyage; thou hast come to shore; get out. If, indeed, unto another life, there is even there no want of gods; but if unto a state devoid of sensation, thou wilt cease to be held of pains and pleasures.' And he saith: 'Then pass thou through the short space of time conformably to Nature, and end the journey in content, just as the olive falls off when it is ripe, blessing Nature that produced it, and thanking the tree on which it grew; ... accepting all that happens, and all that is allotted, and finally waiting for death with a cheerful mind.' And so I say unto thee: No man can do more for thee, for thy husband, or for any human soul, than to fall back upon the mercy of an unknown God, and seek for peace in the grand hope that all is for the best."

"I can not live on that," she murmured. "O my husband, all my heart yearns after thee, and it will break within me unless I can find some clearer, higher assurance of the mercy of Egypt's gods for thee, or of this dim and terrible unknown whom Am-nem-hat declares to be in truth the only one. I can not live in this void uncertainty and darkness! O Amosis, my husband! O ye cruel gods!"

"These good people among whom I find thee," said Am-nem-hat, "are followers of the new God, Jesus Christ, a sect that is everywhere spoken against. I have, however, a very favorable opinion of Jesus and of his religion, and I take it for granted that thou dost not know the truth concerning them. Perhaps they could teach unto thee some consolation for thy sorrow."

"The hated Christians!" she cried out, bitterly. "Why, when my lord Amosis lost his life, he was even then upon his way to Rome to obtain from the Emperor power and authority to extirpate the impious and terrible association from Egypt. If they had known this fact, perhaps I had been already reconciled, or at least silenced, by the icy hand of death."

"Nay, nay, mother," cried Theckla. "That is but an unjust thing, for they knew from the first, and from thine own unconscious talk, that father desired to destroy them all; and the lad Arius, their son, charged me that I should not tell thee until thou wert stronger; for that it might distress thee, and could do no good. He is a true-hearted boy, and I think a wise one also."

"And they have treated their known enemy with more than sisterly care and kindness," said Hatasa. "Surely it is most strange!"

But Am-nem-hat said: "I have seen the Christians tortured, decapitated, burned at the stake, and have heard them even with their last breath pray to their God to forgive those who punished them with such torments. It is a new and most strange religion, and possibly it might do thee good. No gods of Kem can aid thee in thy sorrow."

"I wish that I could see the boy," she said.

And Theckla sprang up quickly, saying, "I will bring him unto thee."

And thereupon she went forth of the room and sought Arius until she found him; and she said, "Arius, my mother desireth much to speak with thee concerning thy religion."

And the boy said, "I go unto her gladly, and may the Lord direct me what to say unto her!"

And when the boy had come into that room where she was, Am-nem-hat said: "I have discovered that Hatasa is the granddaughter of my brother, and she seemeth very dear to me, that am childless. Thou knowest the great sorrow for which I have been able to offer no consolation, except to bid her cast herself upon the mercy of the unknown God in some way, and seek for him if by chance she might find him, and obtain mercy. For neither faith nor philosophy, as I have learned them, goeth one single step beyond where this dim, uncertain light guideth the soul, and we must therewith be content."

"But," moaned the stricken woman, "this chill and shadowy uncertainty will drive me mad. My soul yearneth after my loving, noble husband.--O boy, if thou knowest anything that bringest comfort in the very face of pitiless Death, speak thou to me, and speak thou truthfully; for I am sore afflicted and without hope! _How_, when all the gods of Egypt fail me--how can I trust the mercy of a strange and unknown God?"

Then the God-ordained minister stood up before them, and with that strange, continuous, rhythmic motion of the hand, with his fine head erect and bending toward her from the long and shapely neck, his luminous eyes agleam with strange mesmeric light, his voice sibilant, tremulous, incisive, began to preach his first little sermon in a way that grace and training made natural unto him: "Trouble not thine heart, O woman, with any thought about the gods of Egypt, for I tell thee that the unknown God to whom all men turn in time of sorest trial and sorrow, even as Am-nem-hat hath declared unto thee, is no more unknown, but is one God over all, blessed for evermore, and hath revealed himself unto men through his Son, our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who loved us, and hath borne all of our sins upon himself, that we by faith in him may so be free; for, to them who believe in Jesus, life and immortality are brought to light in the gospel, and for them death hath no sting, the grave no victory.--What name do ye Egyptians give unto the burial-place of your dead?"

The boy paused, and looked upon her, demanding an answer with his eyes.

"We call it sarcophagus," she replied.

"Yea," he continued, "sarcophagus! The devourer of human flesh! But we Christians call it cemeterion--a sleeping-ground; because we know that Jesus arose from the dead for our justification, and know that all they who sleep in death shall rise again; for so our Lord hath taught us. Thou complainest that the light of nature is dim and chill, and giveth thee no certain guide nor hope! Thou meanest that the course of nature is stern, pitiless, implacable; teaching only that one must submit to the inevitable without hope; a forced resignation in which there is no comfort; an iron stoicism which teaches us to endure pain bravely but furnisheth no compensation for sorrow; the obedience of a slave who knows that it is impossible to resist and foolish to attempt it; not the faith and love of a child that obeys because he loves, and bears chastisement meekly because he knows that infinite wisdom and exhaustless love inflict it for his good. O woman, listen what the divine Son of God, who took our nature upon himself and was in all things touched with the feelings of our infirmities, saith unto thee: 'Come unto me, thou weary and heavy-laden, and I will give thee rest. Like as a father pitieth his children, the tender mercy of our God is over thee. He that believeth on me shall never die, for life and immortality are brought to light in the gospel, which is the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation for every one that believeth.' For Jesus loveth thee; he died to save thee and to give thee peace; and his blood can cleanse thee from all sin, so that thou mayst be justified by faith, and find peace in believing, and in all times of tribulation and distress thou mayst find Jesus a present help and saviour. O woman, sorely smitten! which one of the gods of Kem hath died to redeem thy soul?"

"None," she answered--"none!"

"Which one of them cleanseth thee from sin, and giveth thee a sure, unfailing promise of eternal life, thereby releasing thee from the fear of death that keepeth mankind in bondage, teaching that death is but a change through which the conscious spirit passeth into larger life?"

"None! not one," she answered. "I have never heard such glorious promises from any priest."

"But to make these glorious promises steadfast, abiding, true, the Son of God took upon himself our nature; became a man for our justification, and offered up himself a divine and perfect sacrifice for us, to make atonement for our sins; and having submitted himself to be crucified by Pontius Pilate, the third day he arose from the dead, whereby we know that we also shall rise. Seek thou for Christ by faith, for in him are joy and peace. In him are hope for all bereavement, consolation for all grief. He loveth thee. He so loved thee as to die for thee! Come thou to him, and thou shalt learn how kind, and compassionate, and merciful a loving God can be! For all that hath happened unto thee is not the cruel, blind, relentless infliction of merciless fate, working through nature; nor is it the vengeance of an angry God upon thee and thy husband; but is only the wise chastisement of thy Father, God, whereby he seeketh to wean thee away from the love of this vain and transitory life, and to draw thy spirit upward to himself, and to the glory of the world to come. Oh, if thou wilt believe in Christ, thou shalt find before his mercy-seat a refuge from every stormy wind that blows, and peace that passeth all understanding, that floweth as a river, that teacheth thee that these light afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall work out for thee a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory in that bright world to which we haste. Seek thou for Christ, and thou shalt know how good, and pure, and holy an exercise even thy human sorrow and yearning may become."

Then said the woman: "It is all very beautiful and comforting, and I would know more of it. But tell me where I may find a temple in which these things are taught, and a priest that knoweth them."

Then answered Arius: "We have no temple here; and Jesus is our only priest. But there are bishops and presbyters who preach the gospel, when the Christians assemble together. And in every Christian family there are daily religious exercises."

"Dost thou have such worship here in thy father's house?"

"Assuredly! on the evening of every day."

"And at what place?"

"In any place that may be most convenient. In thine own apartment, if thou wilt."