LETTER XIII.

THE CITY OF APIS.

MY DEAR MOTHER:

I thank you for your long and very welcome letter, written from your palace, at Sidon, whither you went to celebrate the rites of Adonis. It assures me of your continued health, which may the gods guard with jealous care, for not only the stability of your kingdom, but my whole happiness depends on your life, beloved mother and queen. You also allude to your visits to the temples of Astarte and of Tammuz, on Lebanon. What a noble worship was that of our fathers, who, amid its gigantic cedars, old as the earth itself, there first worshipped the gods! How majestic must have appeared their simple rites, with no altar but the mountain rock, no columns but the vast trunks of mighty trees, no roof but the blue heavens by day, and the starry dome by night; while at morning and evening went up the smoke of the sacrifice of bullocks to the gods. These were the first temples of men, not builded by art, but made by the gods themselves as meet places for their own worship. I question, dear mother, if the subsequent descent of religion from its solemn shrines, in the dark forests of Libanus, into the valleys and cities, to be enshrined in temples of marble, however beautiful, has elevated it. Though the Phœnicians built the first temples on the peninsula of Tyre, before any others existed, save in groves; yet in Egypt (which claims also this honor), the "houses of the gods," in their vast and pyramidal aspects, their pillars like palm-trees, their columns like cedars, approach more nearly to the dignity, sublimity, and majesty of the primeval forests and eternal mountains where religion first offered prayer to heaven.

Your visit to the temple of Tammuz, at Sareptha, recalls a legend which, singularly enough, I first heard in Egypt, of the origin of the rites to that deity.

The books of the priests here, relating to Phœnician, Sabæan, Persian, and Chaldean ceremonies (for the learning of the Egyptians seems to embrace a knowledge of books of all countries), relate that Tammuz was a "certain idolatrous prophet of the Sabæan Fire-worshippers, who called upon King Ossynœces, our remote ancestor, and commanded him to worship the Seven Planets and the Twelve Signs of the constellations. The king, in reply, ordered him to be put to death. On the same night on which he was slain," continues the book from which I write, "a great gathering of all the images of the gods of the whole earth was held at the palace, where the huge golden image of the sun was suspended; whereupon this image of the sun related what had happened to his prophet, weeping and mourning as he spoke to them. Then all the lesser gods present likewise commenced weeping and mourning, which they continued until daylight, when they all departed through the air, returning to their respective temples in the most distant regions of the earth." Such, dear mother, is the tradition here of the origin of the weeping for Tammuz, the observance of which now forms so important a feature in our Phœnician worship, although introduced, as it was, from the Sabæans themselves.

But the more I have conversed with the wise and virtuous Prince Remeses, the more I feel the gross nature of our mythology, O mother, and that images and myths, such as form the ground and expression of our national worship, and that rest wholly in the material figure itself, are unworthy the reverence of an intelligent mind. It is true, we can look at them, and honor that which they represent,--as I daily look at your picture, which I wear over my heart, and kissing it from love for thee, do not worship and adore the ivory, and the colors that mark upon its surface a sweet reflection of your beloved and beautiful countenance. Oh, no! It is you far away I think of, kiss, love, and in a manner adore. Yet an Egyptian of the lowest order, seeing me almost worshipping your picture, would believe I was adoring an effigy of my tutelar goddess. And he would be right, so far as my heart and thought, and you are concerned, my mother. In this representative way, I am now sure that Remeses regards all images, looking through and beyond them up to the Supreme Infinite. I also have imbibed his lofty spirit of worship, and have come to adore the statues as I worship your picture. But _where_, O mother, is the Infinite? When I think of you, I can send my soul towards you, on wings that bear me to your feet, either in your private chamber at needle-work, or with your royal scribe as you are dictating laws for the realm, or upon your throne giving judgment. In memory and imagination, I can instantly send my thoughts out to you, and behold you as you are. But the Infinite, whom Remeses calls GOD, in contradistinction to lesser gods, where does He hide Himself? Why, if He _is_, does He not reveal Himself? Why does He suffer us to grope after Him, and not find Him? If He be good, and loving, and gracious in His nature, He will desire to make known to His creatures these attributes. But how silent--how impenetrable the mystery that environs Him in the habitation of His throne! Will He forever remain wrapped up in the dark clouds of space? Will He never reveal Himself in His moral nature to man? Will He never of Himself proclaim to the creation His unity--that there is no God but One, and besides Him there is none else? How can He demand obedience and virtue of men when they know not His laws? Yet, consciousness within, visible nature, reason, all demonstrate that there is but one Supreme God, a single First Cause, how numerous soever the inferior deities He may have created to aid in the government of His vast universe; and that to Him an intellectual and spiritual worship should be paid. This is the theory of Remeses, who seems to be infinitely above his people and country in piety and wisdom. Sometimes I fancy that he draws inspiration from this Infinite God whom he worships in his heart, and recognizes through his intellect; for his utterances on these themes are often like the words of a god, so wonderful are the mysteries treated of by him, so elevating to the heart and mind.

But I will repeat part of a conversation we had together, after he had offered in the temple of Apis his sacrifice for the restoration of the queen's health. He said, as we walked away together, along a beautiful and sacred avenue of acacia and delicate, fringe-like ittel or tamarisk trees, alternating with the pomegranate and mimosa:

"Sesostris, doubtless, after all my conversations with you, I seemed an idolater to-day, quite as material and gross, in the offerings and prayers I made, as the galley-rower we saw offering a coarse garland of papyrus-leaves and poppies to the god."

"No, my noble prince," I answered; "I saw in you an intellectual sacrificer, whose bodily eyes indeed beheld the sacred bull, but whose spirit saw the Great Osiris, who once dwelt in the bull when on earth. You honored the house where anciently a god abode."

"No, Sesostris, the bull is nothing to me in any sense, but as the prince of a realm whose laws ordain the worship of Apis in Memphis, of the ram-headed Ammon at Thebes, or the sacred ox at On, I outwardly conform to customs which I dare not and cannot change. Or if I would, what shall I give the people if I take away their gods? My own religion is spiritual, as I believe yours is becoming; but how shall I present a spiritual faith to the Egyptians? In what form--what visible shape, can I offer it to them? for the priests will demand a visible religion--one tangible and material. The people cannot worship an intellectual abstraction, as we can, Sesostris, and as the more intelligent priests pretend they do and can. Yet if, when I come to the throne, by an imperial edict I remodel the theology of the priesthood and the worship of the people--remove the golden sun from the temple in On, slay the sacred bull Apis, and banish the idols from all the thousand temples of the two Egypts, with _what_ shall I replace the religion I depose?"

"With an intellectual and spiritual worship of the Supreme Infinite," I answered.

"But who will enlighten my own ignorance of Him, Sesostris?" he inquired sadly. "What do I know of Him save from an awakened consciousness within my bosom? How can I make others possess that consciousness which is only intuitive, and so incommunicable? I must first know _where_ God is, before I can direct the people whither to look for Him when they pray. I must first cultivate their minds and imaginations, in order to enable them to embrace a purely mental religion, and to worship the Infinite independently of figures, images, and visible mementos or symbols; for, so long as they have these at all, they will rest their faith in them, and will look upon them as their gods. But what do I know of the God I would reveal to them? Absolutely nothing! That there can be but one Supreme God, reason demonstrates; for if there were two equal gods, they would have equal power, equal agency in the creation and upholding of all things, in the government of the world, and in the worship of men! Two equal gods, who in no case differ one from the other, but are in all things one and the same, are virtually but one God. Therefore, as neither two, nor any number of _equal_ gods, can exist without acting as a unit (for _otherwise_ they cannot act), there can be only one God!"

I at once assented to the conclusiveness of the prince's reasoning.

"God, then, existing as One, all beings in his universe are below Him, even His creatures the 'gods,' if there be such made by Him. It becomes, therefore, all men to worship, not these gods, but the God of gods. That he should be worshipped spiritually is evident, for he must be a spiritual essence; and as we are certainly composed of spirits and material bodies, and as our spirits are no less certainly our superior part, so He who made the spirit of man must be superior to all bodies or forms of matter; that is, he must be that by reason of which he is superior, namely, a SPIRIT."

I then said to this learned and great prince, "Thinkest thou, Remeses, that this Infinite God, whom we believe exists, will ever make a revelation of Himself, so that He may be worshipped as becomes His perfections? Do you think the veil of ignorance which hangs between Him and us will ever be lifted?"

"Without question, my Sesostris," he answered, with animation, the light of hope kindling in his noble eyes, "the Creator of this world must be a benevolent, good, and wise Being."

"Of that there can be no doubt," was my reply.

"Benevolence, goodness, and wisdom, then, will seek the happiness and elevation of man. A knowledge of the true God, whom we are now feeling and groping after in darkness, with only the faint light of our reason to illumine its mysterious gloom,--this knowledge would elevate and render happy the race of men. It would dissipate ignorance, overthrow idolatry, place man near God, and, consequently, lift him higher in the scale of the universe. A God of wisdom, benevolence, and justice, will seek to produce this result. The world, therefore, _will_ have a revelation from Him, in the fulness of time,--when men are ready to receive it. It may not be while I live, Sesostris, but the time will come when the knowledge of the Infinite God will be revealed by Himself to man, who will then worship Him, and Him alone, with the pure worship due to His majesty, glory, and dominion."

As Remeses concluded, his face seemed to shine with a supernatural inspiration, as if he had talked with the Infinite and Spiritual God of whom he spoke, and had learned from Him the mighty mysteries of His being. Then there passed a shadow over his face, and he said, sorrowfully--

"How can I lead the people of Egypt to the true God, when He hath not taught me any thing of Himself? No, no, Sesostris, Egypt must wait, I must wait, the world must wait the day of revelation. And that day will come, or there is _no_ God! For an ever-silent God--a God who forever hideth Himself from His creatures--is as if there were no God! But that there is a God the heavens declare in their glory, the ocean hoarsely murmurs His name, the thunders proclaim His power, the lilies of the field speak of His goodness, and we ourselves are living manifestations of His benevolence and love. Let us, therefore, amid all the splendor of the idolatry which fills the earth, lift up _our_ hearts, O Sesostris, to the One God! and in secret worship Him, wheresoever our souls can find Him, until He reveals Himself openly to the inhabitants of the earth."

In relating this conversation, my dear mother, I not only am preparing you to see my views of our mythology materially changed, but I unfold to you more of the sublime character of Remeses, and give you some insight into his deep philosophy and wonderful wisdom.

I will, in connection with this subject, describe to you a religious