The Pharaoh And The Priest Part 112

Suddenly the pharaoh bent to the earth.

"Enough!" cried he, "why torment me thus? The wearied body seeks rest, the soul longs to be in the region of endless light. But not only will ye not let me die; ye are inventing new torments. Oh, I wish not--"

"What dost thou see?"

"From the ceiling every instant two spider legs lower themselves--they are terrible. As thick as palm trunks; s.h.a.ggy with hooks at the ends of them. I feel that above my head is a spider of immense size, and he is binding me with a web of ship ropes."

Beroes turned his dagger point upward.

"Mer-Amen-Rameses," said he again, "look ever at the spark, and never at the sides. Here is a sign which I raise in thy presence," whispered he. "Here am I mightily armed with Divine aid, I, foreseeing and unterrified, who summon you with exorcisms--Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye, Aye, Saraye--in the name of the all-powerful, the all-mighty and everlasting divinity."

At that moment a calm smile appeared on the lips of the pharaoh.

"It seems to me," said he, "that I behold Egypt--all Egypt. Yes! that is the Nile--the desert. Here is Memphis, there Thebes."

Indeed he saw Egypt, all Egypt, but no larger than the path which extended through the garden of his palace. The wonderful picture had this trait, that when the Pharaoh turned more deliberate attention to any point of it, that point with its environments grew to be of real size almost.

The sun was going down, covering the earth with golden and purple light. Birds of the daytime were settling to sleep, the night birds were waking up in their concealments. In the desert hyenas and jackals were yawning, and the slumbering lion had begun to stretch his strong body and prepare to hunt victims.

The Nile fisherman drew forth his nets hastily, men were tying up at the sh.o.r.es the great transport barges. The wearied earth-worker removed from the sweep his bucket with which he had drawn water since sunrise; another returned slowly with the plough to his mud hovel. In cities they were lighting lamps, in the temples priests were a.s.sembling for evening devotions. On the highways the dust was settling down and the squeak of carts was growing silent. From the pylon summits shrill voices were heard calling people to prayer.

A moment later, the pharaoh saw with astonishment flocks of silvery birds over the earth everywhere. They were flying up out of palaces, temples, streets, workshops, Nile barges, country huts, even from the quarries. At first each of them shot upward like an arrow, but soon it met in the sky another silvery feathered bird, which stopped its way, striking it with all force and--both fell to the earth lifeless.

Those were the unworthy prayers of men, which prevented each other from reaching the throne of Him who existed before the ages.

The pharaoh strained his hearing. At first only the rustle of wings reached him, but soon he distinguished words also.

And now he heard a sick man praying for the return of his health, and also the physician, who begged that that same patient might be sick as long as possible. The landowner prayed Amon to watch over his granary and cow-house, the thief stretched his hands heavenward so that he might lead forth another man's cow without hindrance, and fill his own bags from another man's harvest.

Their prayers knocked each other down like stones which had been hurled from slings and had met in the air.

The wanderer in the desert fell on the sand and begged for a north wind, to bring a drop of rain to him, the sailor on the sea beat the deck with his forehead and prayed that wind might blow from the east a week longer. The earth-worker wished that swamps might dry up quickly after inundation; the needy fisherman begged that the swamps might not dry up at any time.

Their prayers killed each other and never reached the divine ears of Amon.

The greatest uproar reigned above the quarries where criminals, lashed together in chain gangs, split enormous rocks with wedges, wetted with water. There a party of day convicts prayed for the night, so that they might lie down to slumber; while parties of night toilers, roused by their overseers, beat their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, asking that the sun might not set at any hour. Merchants who purchased quarried and dressed stones prayed that there might be as many criminals in the quarries as possible, while provision contractors lay on their stomachs, sighing for the plague to kill laborers, and make their own profits as large as they might be.

So the prayers of men from the quarries did not reach the sky in any case.

On the western boundary the pharaoh saw two armies preparing for battle. Both were prostrate on the sand, calling on Amon to rub out the other side. The Libyans wished shame and death to Egyptians; the Egyptians hurled curses on the Libyans.

The prayers of these and of those, like two flocks of falcons, fought above the earth and fell dead in the desert. Amon did not even see them.

And whithersoever the pharaoh turned his wearied glance he saw the same picture everywhere. The laborers were praying for rest and decrease of taxes, scribes were praying that taxes might increase and work never be finished. The priests implored Amon for long life to Rameses XII. and death to Phnicians, who interfered with their interests; the nomarchs implored the G.o.ds to preserve the Phnicians and let Rameses XIII. ascend the throne at the earliest, for he would curb priestly tyranny. Lions, jackals, and hyenas were panting with hunger and desire for fresh blood; deer and rabbits slipped out of hiding-places, thinking to preserve wretched life a day longer, though experience declared that numbers of them must perish, even on that night, so that beasts of prey might not famish. So throughout the whole world reigned cross-purposes everywhere. Each wished that which filled others with terror; each begged for his own good, without asking if he did harm to the next man.

For this cause their prayers, though like silvery birds flying heavenward, did not reach their destination. And the divine Amon, to whom no voice of the earth came at any time, dropped his hands on his knees, and sank ever deeper in meditation over his own divinity, while on the earth blind force and chance ruled without interruption.

All at once the pharaoh heard the voice of a woman,--"Rogue! Little rogue! come in, thou unruly, it is time for prayers."

"This minute--this minute!" answered the voice of the little child.

The sovereign looked toward the point whence the voice came and saw the poor hut of a cattle scribe. The hut owner had finished his register in the light of the setting sun, his wife was grinding flour for a cake, and before the house, like a young kid, was running and jumping the six-year-old little boy, laughing, it was unknown for what reason.

The evening air full of sweetness had given him delight, that was evident.

"Rogue!--Little rogue! come here to me for a prayer," repeated the woman.

"This minute! this minute!"

And again he ran with delight as if wild.

At last the mother, seeing that the sun was beginning to sink in the sands of the desert, put away her mill stones, and, going out, seized the boy, who raced around like a little colt. He resisted but gave way to superior force finally. The mother, drawing him to the hut as quickly as possible, held him with her hand so that he might not escape from her.

"Do not twist," said she, "put thy feet under thee, sit upright, put thy hands together and raise them upward.--Ah, thou bad boy!"

The boy knew that he could not escape now; so to be free again as soon as possible he raised his eyes and hands heavenward piously, and with a thin squeaky voice, he said,--

"O kind, divine Amon, I thank thee, thou hast kept my papa to-day from misfortune, thou hast given wheat for cakes to my mamma. What more?

Thou hast made heaven. I thank thee. And the earth, and sent down the Nile which brings bread to us. And what more? Aha, I know now! And I thank thee because out-of-doors it is so beautiful, and flowers are growing there, and birds singing and the palms give us sweet dates.

For these good things which thou hast given us, may all love thee as I do, and praise thee better than I can, for I am a little boy yet and I have not learned wisdom. Well, is that enough, mamma?"

"Bad boy!" muttered the cattle scribe, bending over his register. "Bad boy! thou art giving honor to Amon carelessly."

But the pharaoh in that magic globe saw now something altogether different. Behold the prayer of the delighted little boy rose, like a lark, toward the sky, and with fluttering wings it went higher and higher till it reached the throne where the eternal Amon with his hands on his knees was sunk in meditation on his own all-mightiness.

Then it went still higher, as high as the head of the divinity, and sang with the thin, childish little voice to him:

"And for those good things which thou hast given us may all love thee as I do."

At these words the divinity, sunk in himself, opened his eyes--there came to the earth immense calm. Every pain ceased, every fear, every wrong stopped. The whistling missile hung in the air, the lion stopped in his spring on the deer, the stick uplifted did not fall on the back of the captive. The sick man forgot his pains, the wanderer in the desert his hunger, the prisoner his chains. The storm ceased, and the wave of the sea, though ready to drown the ship, halted. And on the whole earth such rest settled down that the sun, just hiding on the horizon, thrust up his shining head again.

The pharaoh recovered. He saw before him a little table, on the table a black globe, at the side of it Beroes the Chaldean.

"Mer-Amen-Rameses," asked the priest, "hast thou found a person whose prayers reach the footstool of Him who existed before the ages?"

"I have."

"Is he a prince, a n.o.ble, a prophet, or perhaps an ordinary hermit?"

"He is a little boy, six years old, who asked Amon for nothing, he only thanked him for everything."

"But dost thou know where he dwells?" inquired the Chaldean.

"I know, but I will not steal for my own use the virtue of his prayer.

The world, Beroes, is a gigantic vortex, in which people are whirled around like sand, and they are whirled by misfortune. That child with his prayer gives people what I cannot give: a brief s.p.a.ce of peace and oblivion. Dost understand, O Chaldean?"

Beroes was silent.