“Is there anything more?” asked Leo, in a kind of excited
whisper.
I groped about, and produced something hard, done up in a little
linen bag. Out of the bag we took first a very beautiful
miniature done upon ivory, and secondly, a small
chocolate-coloured composition _scarabæus_, marked thus:—
[Illustration]
symbols which, we have since ascertained, mean “Suten se Ra,”
which is being translated the “Royal Son of Ra or the Sun.” The
miniature was a picture of Leo’s Greek mother—a lovely, dark-eyed
creature. On the back of it was written, in poor Vincey’s
handwriting, “My beloved wife.”
“That is all,” I said.
“Very well,” answered Leo, putting down the miniature, at which
he had been gazing affectionately; “and now let us read the
letter,” and without further ado he broke the seal, and read
aloud as follows:—
“My Son Leo,—When you open this, if you ever live to do so, you
will have attained to manhood, and I shall have been long enough
dead to be absolutely forgotten by nearly all who knew me. Yet in
reading it remember that I have been, and for anything you know
may still be, and that in it, through this link of pen and paper,
I stretch out my hand to you across the gulf of death, and my
voice speaks to you from the silence of the grave. Though I am
dead, and no memory of me remains in your mind, yet am I with you
in this hour that you read. Since your birth to this day I have
scarcely seen your face. Forgive me this. Your life supplanted
the life of one whom I loved better than women are often loved,
and the bitterness of it endureth yet. Had I lived I should in
time have conquered this foolish feeling, but I am not destined
to live. My sufferings, physical and mental, are more than I can
bear, and when such small arrangements as I have to make for your
future well-being are completed it is my intention to put a
period to them. May God forgive me if I do wrong. At the best I
could not live more than another year.”
“So he killed himself,” I exclaimed. “I thought so.”
“And now,” Leo went on, without replying, “enough of myself. What
has to be said belongs to you who live, not to me, who am dead,
and almost as much forgotten as though I had never been. Holly,
my friend (to whom, if he will accept the trust, it is my
intention to confide you), will have told you something of the
extraordinary antiquity of your race. In the contents of this
casket you will find sufficient to prove it. The strange legend
that you will find inscribed by your remote ancestress upon the
potsherd was communicated to me by my father on his deathbed, and
took a strong hold in my imagination. When I was only nineteen
years of age I determined, as, to his misfortune, did one of our
ancestors about the time of Elizabeth, to investigate its truth.
Into all that befell me I cannot enter now. But this I saw with
my own eyes. On the coast of Africa, in a hitherto unexplored
region, some distance to the north of where the Zambesi falls
into the sea, there is a headland, at the extremity of which a
peak towers up, shaped like the head of a negro, similar to that
of which the writing speaks. I landed there, and learnt from a
wandering native, who had been cast out by his people because of
some crime which he had committed, that far inland are great
mountains, shaped like cups, and caves surrounded by measureless
swamps. I learnt also that the people there speak a dialect of
Arabic, and are ruled over by a _beautiful white woman_ who is
seldom seen by them, but who is reported to have power over all
things living and dead. Two days after I had ascertained this the
man died of fever contracted in crossing the swamps, and I was
forced by want of provisions and by symptoms of an illness which
afterwards prostrated me to take to my dhow again.
“Of the adventures that befell me after this I need not now
speak. I was wrecked upon the coast of Madagascar, and rescued
some months afterwards by an English ship that brought me to
Aden, whence I started for England, intending to prosecute my
search as soon as I had made sufficient preparations. On my way I
stopped in Greece, and there, for ‘Omnia vincit amor,’ I met your
beloved mother, and married her, and there you were born and she
died. Then it was that my last illness seized me, and I returned
hither to die. But still I hoped against hope, and set myself to
work to learn Arabic, with the intention, should I ever get
better, of returning to the coast of Africa, and solving the
mystery of which the tradition has lived so many centuries in our
family. But I have not got better, and, so far as I am concerned,
the story is at an end.
“For you, however, my son, it is not at an end, and to you I hand
on these the results of my labour, together with the hereditary
proofs of its origin. It is my intention to provide that they
shall not be put into your hands until you have reached an age
when you will be able to judge for yourself whether or no you
will choose to investigate what, if it is true, must be the
greatest mystery in the world, or to put it by as an idle fable,
originating in the first place in a woman’s disordered brain.
“I do not believe that it is a fable; I believe that if it can
only be re-discovered there is a spot where the vital forces of
the world visibly exist. Life exists; why therefore should not
the means of preserving it indefinitely exist also? But I have no
wish to prejudice your mind about the matter. Read and judge for
yourself. If you are inclined to undertake the search, I have so
provided that you will not lack for means. If, on the other hand,
you are satisfied that the whole thing is a chimera, then, I
adjure you, destroy the potsherd and the writings, and let a
cause of troubling be removed from our race for ever. Perhaps
that will be wisest. The unknown is generally taken to be
terrible, not as the proverb would infer, from the inherent
superstition of man, but because it so often _is_ terrible. He
who would tamper with the vast and secret forces that animate the
world may well fall a victim to them. And if the end were
attained, if at last you emerged from the trial ever beautiful
and ever young, defying time and evil, and lifted above the
natural decay of flesh and intellect, who shall say that the
awesome change would prove a happy one? Choose, my son, and may
the Power who rules all things, and who says ‘thus far shalt thou
go, and thus much shalt thou learn,’ direct the choice to your
own happiness and the happiness of the world, which, in the event
of your success, you would one day certainly rule by the pure
force of accumulated experience.— Farewell!”
Thus the letter, which was unsigned and undated, abruptly ended.
“What do you make of that, Uncle Holly,” said Leo, with a sort of
gasp, as he replaced it on the table. “We have been looking for a
mystery, and we certainly seem to have found one.”
“What do I make of it? Why, that your poor dear father was off
his head, of course,” I answered, testily. “I guessed as much
that night, twenty years ago, when he came into my room. You see
he evidently hurried his own end, poor man. It is absolute
balderdash.”
“That’s it, sir!” said Job, solemnly. Job was a most
matter-of-fact specimen of a matter-of-fact class.
“Well, let’s see what the potsherd has to say, at any rate,” said
Leo, taking up the translation in his father’s writing, and
commencing to read:—
“_I, Amenartas, of the Royal House of the Pharaohs of Egypt, wife of
Kallikrates (the Beautiful in Strength), a Priest of Isis whom the gods
cherish and the demons obey, being about to die, to my little son
Tisisthenes (the Mighty Avenger). I fled with thy father from Egypt in
the days of Nectanebes,_[1] _causing him through love to break the vows
that he had vowed. We fled southward, across the waters, and we
wandered for twice twelve moons on the coast of Libya (Africa) that
looks towards the rising sun, where by a river is a great rock carven
like the head of an Ethiopian. Four days on the water from the mouth of
a mighty river were we cast away, and some were drowned and some died
of sickness. But us wild men took through wastes and marshes, where the
sea fowl hid the sky, bearing us ten days’ journey till we came to a
hollow mountain, where a great city had been and fallen, and where
there are caves of which no man hath seen the end; and they brought us
to the Queen of the people who place pots upon the heads of strangers,
who is a magician having a knowledge of all things, and life and
loveliness that does not die. And she cast eyes of love upon thy
father, Kallikrates, and would have slain me, and taken him to husband,
but he loved me and feared her, and would not. Then did she take us,
and lead us by terrible ways, by means of dark magic, to where the
great pit is, in the mouth of which the old philosopher lay dead, and
showed to us the rolling Pillar of Life that dies not, whereof the
voice is as the voice of thunder; and she did stand in the flames, and
come forth unharmed, and yet more beautiful. Then did she swear to make
thy father undying even as she is, if he would but slay me, and give
himself to her, for me she could not slay because of the magic of my
own people that I have, and that prevailed thus far against her. And he
held his hand before his eyes to hide her beauty, and would not. Then
in her rage did she smite him by her magic, and he died; but she wept
over him, and bore him thence with lamentations: and being afraid, me
she sent to the mouth of the great river where the ships come, and I
was carried far away on the ships where I gave thee birth, and hither
to Athens I came at last after many wanderings. Now I say to thee, my
son, Tisisthenes, seek out the woman, and learn the secret of Life, and
if thou mayest find a way slay her, because of thy father Kallikrates;
and if thou dost fear or fail, this I say to all thy seed who come
after thee, till at last a brave man be found among them who shall
bathe in the fire and sit in the place of the Pharaohs. I speak of
those things, that though they be past belief, yet I have known, and I
lie not._”
[1] Nekht-nebf, or Nectanebo II., the last native Pharaoh of Egypt,
fled from Ochus to Ethiopia, B.C. 339.—Editor.
“May the Lord forgive her for that,” groaned Job, who had been
listening to this marvellous composition with his mouth open.
As for myself, I said nothing: my first idea being that my poor
friend, being demented, had composed the whole thing, though it
scarcely seemed likely that such a story could have been invented
by anybody. It was too original. To solve my doubts I took up the
potsherd and began to read the close uncial Greek writing on it;
and very good Greek of the period it is, considering that it came
from the pen of an Egyptian born. Here is an exact transcript of
it:—
ΑΜΕΝΑΡΤΑΣΤΟΥΒΑΣΙΛΙΚΟΥΓΕΝΟΥΣΤΟΥΑΙΓΥΠΤΙΟΥΗΤΟΥΚΑΛΛΙΚΡΑΤΟΥΣΙΣΙΔΟΣΙΕΡΕΩΣΗΝΟ
ΙΜΕΝΘΕΟΙΤΡΕΦΟΥΣΙΤΑΔΕΔΑΙΜΟΝΙΑΥΠΟΤΑΣΣΕΤΑΙΗΔΗΤΕΛΕΥΤΩΣΑΤΙΣΙΣΘΕΝΕΙΤΩΠΑΙΔΙΕΠ
ΙΣΤΕΛΛΕΙΤΑΔΕΣΥΝΕΦΥΓΟΝΓΑΡΠΟΤΕΕΚΤΗΣΑΙΓΥΠΤΙΑΣΕΠΙΝΕΚΤΑΝΕΒΟΥΜΕΤΑΤΟΥΣΟΥΠΑΤΡΟ
ΣΔΙΑΤΟΝΕΡΩΤΑΤΟΝΕΜΟΝΕΠΙΟΡΚΗΣΑΝΤΟΣΦΥΓΟΝΤΕΣΔΕΠΡΟΣΝΟΤΟΝΔΙΑΠΟΝΤΙΟΙΚΑΙΚΔΜΗΝΑ
ΣΚΑΤΑΤΑΠΑΡΑΘΑΛΑΣΣΙΑΤΗΣΛΙΒΥΗΣΤΑΠΡΟΣΗΛΙΟΥΑΝΑΤΟΛΑΣΠΛΑΝΗΘΕΝΤΕΣΕΝΘΑΠΕΡΠΕΤΡΑ
ΤΙΣΜΕΓΑΛΗΓΛΥΠΤΟΝΟΜΟΙΩΜΑΑΙΘΙΟΠΟΣΚΕΦΑΛΗΣΕΙΤΑΗΜΕΡΑΣΔΑΠΟΣΤΟΜΑΤΟΣΠΟΤΑΜΟΥΜΕΓ
ΑΛΟΥΕΚΠΕΣΟΝΤΕΣΟΙΜΕΝΚΑΤΕΠΟΝΤΙΣΘΗΜΕΝΟΙΔΕΝΟΣΩΙΑΠΕΘΑΝΟΜΕΝΤΕΛΟΣΔΕΥΠΑΓΡΙΩΝΑΝ
ΘΡΩΠΩΝΕΦΕΡΟΜΕΘΑΔΙΑΕΛΕΩΝΤΕΚΑΙΤΕΝΑΓΕΩΝΕΝΘΑΠΕΡΠΤΗΝΩΝΠΛΗΘΟΣΑΠΟΚΡΥΠΤΕΙΤΟΝΟΥ
ΡΑΝΟΝΗΜΕΡΑΣΙΕΩΣΗΛΘΟΜΕΝΕΙΣΚΟΙΛΟΝΤΙΟΡΟΣΕΝΘΑΠΟΤΕΜΕΓΑΛΗΜΕΝΠΟΛΙΣΗΝΑΝΤΡΑΔΕΑΠ
ΕΙΡΟΝΑΗΓΑΓΟΝΔΕΩΣΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑΝΤΗΝΤΩΝΞΕΝΟΥΣΧΥΤΡΑΙΣΣΤΕΦΑΝΟΥΝΤΩΝΗΤΙΣΜΑΓΕΙΑΜΕΝΕ
ΧΡΗΤΟΕΠΙΣΤΗΜΗΔΕΠΑΝΤΩΝΚΑΙΔΗΚΑΙΚΑΛΛΟΣΚΑΙΡΩΜΗΝΑΓΗΡΩΣΗΝΗΔΕΚΑΛΛΙΚΡΑΤΟΥΣΤΟΥΣ
ΟΥΠΑΤΡΟΣΕΡΑΣΘΕΙΣΑΤΟΜΕΝΠΡΩΤΟΝΣΥΝΟΙΚΕΙΝΕΒΟΥΛΕΤΟΕΜΕΔΕΑΝΕΛΕΙΝΕΠΕΙΤΑΩΣΟΥΚΑΝ
ΕΠΕΙΘΕΝΕΜΕΓΑΡΥΠΕΡΕΦΙΛΕΙΚΑΙΤΗΝΞΕΝΗΝΕΦΟΒΕΙΤΟΑΠΗΓΑΓΕΝΗΜΑΣΥΠΟΜΑΓΕΙΑΣΚΑΘΟΔΟ
ΥΣΣΦΑΛΕΡΑΣΕΝΘΑΤΟΒΑΡΑΘΡΟΝΤΟΜΕΓΑΟΥΚΑΤΑΣΤΟΜΑΕΚΕΙΤΟΟΓΕΡΩΝΟΦΙΛΟΣΟΦΟΣΤΕΘΝΕΩΣ
ΑΦΙΚΟΜΕΝΟΙΣΔΕΔΕΙΞΕΦΩΣΤΟΥΒΙΟΥΕΥΘΥΟΙΟΝΚΙΟΝΑΕΛΙΣΣΟΜΕΝΟΝΦΩΝΗΝΙΕΝΤΑΚΑΘΑΠΕΡΒ
ΡΟΝΤΗΣΕΙΤΑΔΙΑΠΥΡΟΣΒΕΒΗΚΥΙΑΑΒΛΑΒΗΣΚΑΙΕΤΙΚΑΛΛΙΩΝΑΥΤΗΕΑΥΤΗΣΕΞΕΦΑΝΗΕΚΔΕΤΟΥ
ΤΩΝΩΜΟΣΕΚΑΙΤΟΝΣΟΝΠΑΤΕΡΑΑΘΑΝΑΤΟΝΑΠΟΔΕΙΞΕΙΝΕΙΣΥΝΟΙΚΕΙΝΟΙΒΟΥΛΟΙΤΟΕΜΕΔΕΑΝΕ
ΛΕΙΝΟΥΓΑΡΟΥΝΑΥΤΗΑΝΕΛΕΙΝΙΣΧΥΕΝΥΠΟΤΩΝΗΜΕΔΑΠΩΝΗΝΚΑΙΑΥΤΗΕΧΩΜΑΓΕΙΑΣΟΔΟΥΔΕΝΤ
ΙΜΑΛΛΟΝΗΘΕΛΕΤΩΧΕΙΡΕΤΩΝΟΜΜΑΤΩΝΠΡΟΙΣΧΩΝΙΝΑΔΗΤΟΤΗΣΓΥΝΑΙΚΟΣΚΑΛΛΟΣΜΗΟΡΩΗΕΠΕ
ΙΤΑΟΡΓΙΣΘΕΙΣΑΚΑΤΕΓΟΗΤΕΥΣΕΜΕΝΑΥΤΟΝΑΠΟΛΟΜΕΝΟΝΜΕΝΤΟΙΚΛΑΟΥΣΑΚΑΙΟΔΥΡΟΜΕΝΗΕΚ
ΕΙΘΕΝΑΠΗΝΕΓΚΕΝΕΜΕΔΕΦΟΒΩΙΑΦΗΚΕΝΕΙΣΣΤΟΜΑΤΟΥΜΕΓΑΛΟΥΠΟΤΑΜΟΥΤΟΥΝΑΥΣΙΠΟΡΟΥΠΟ
ΡΡΩΔΕΝΑΥΣΙΝΕΦΩΝΠΕΡΠΛΕΟΥΣΑΕΤΕΚΟΝΣΕΑΠΟΠΛΕΥΣΑΣΑΜΟΛΙΣΠΟΤΕΔΕΥΡΟΑΘΗΝΑΖΕΚΑΤΗΓ
ΑΓΟΜΗΝΣΥΔΕΩΤΙΣΙΣΘΕΝΕΣΩΝΕΠΙΣΤΕΛΛΩΜΗΟΛΙΓΩΡΕΙΔΕΙΓΑΡΤΗΝΓΥΝΑΙΚΑΑΝΑΖΗΤΕΙΝΗΝΠ
ΩΣΤΟΤΟΥΒΙΟΥΜΥΣΤΗΡΙΟΝΑΝΕΥΡΗΣΚΑΙΑΝΑΙΡΕΙΝΗΝΠΟΥΠΑΡΑΣΧΗΔΙΑΤΟΝΣΟΝΠΑΤΕΡΑΚΑΛΛΙ
ΚΡΑΤΗΝΕΙΔΕΦΟΒΟΥΜΕΝΟΣΗΔΙΑΑΛΛΟΤΙΑΥΤΟΣΛΕΙΠΕΙΤΟΥΕΡΓΟΥΠΑΣΙΤΟΙΣΥΣΤΕΡΟΝΑΥΤΟΤΟ
ΥΤΟΕΠΙΣΤΕΛΛΩΕΩΣΠΟΤΕΑΓΑΘΟΣΤΙΣΓΕΝΟΜΕΝΟΣΤΩΠΥΡΙΛΟΥΣΑΣΘΑΙΤΟΛΜΗΣΕΙΚΑΙΤΑΑΡΙΣΤ
ΕΙΑΕΧΩΝΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣΑΙΤΩΝΑΝΘΡΩΠΩΝΑΠΙΣΤΑΜΕΝΔΗΤΑΤΟΙΑΥΤΑΛΕΓΩΟΜΩΣΔΕΑΑΥΤΗΕΓΝΩΚΑΟ
ΥΚΕΨΕΥΣΑΜΗΝ
For general convenience in reading, I have here accurately transcribed
this inscription into the cursive character.
Ἀμενάρτας, τοῦ βασικοῦ γένους τοῦ Αἰγυπτίου, ἡ τοῦ Καλλικράτους Ἴσιδος
ἱερέως, ἣν οἱ μὲν θεοὶ τρέφουσι τὰ δὲ δαιμονια ὑποτάσσεται, ἤδη
τελευτῶσα Τισισθένει τῷ παιδὶ ἐπιστέλλει τάδε· συνέφυγον γάρ ποτε ἐκ
τῆς Αἰγυπτίας ἐπὶ Νεκτανέβου μετὰ τοῦ σοῦ πατρός, διὰ τὸν ἔρωτα τὸν
ἐμὸν ἐπιορκήσαντος. φυγόντες δὲ πρὸς νότον διαπόντιοι καὶ κʹδʹ μῆνας
κατὰ τὰ παραθαλάσσια τῆς Αιβύης τὰ πρός ἡλίου ἀνατολὰς πλανηθέντες,
ἔνθαπερ πέτρα τις μελάλη, γλυπτὸν ὁμοίωμα Αἰθίοπος κεφαλῆς, εἶτα ἡμέρας
δʹ ἀπὸ στόματος ποταμοῦ μεγάλου ἐκπεσόντες, οἱ μέν κατεποντίσθημεν, οἱ
δὲ νόσῳ ἀπεθάνομεν· τέλος δὲ ὑπ᾽ ἀλρίων ἀνθρώπων ἐφερόμεθα διὰ ἐλέων τε
καὶ τεναλέων ἔνθαπερ πτηνῶν πλῆθος ἀποκρύπτει τὸν οὐρανὸν, ἡμέρας ί,
ἕως ἤλθομεν εἰς κοῖλόν τι ὄρος, ἔνθα ποτὲ μεγάλη μὲν πόλις ἦν, ἄντρα δὲ
ἀπείρονα· ἤγαγον δὲ ὡς βασίλειαν τὴν τῶν ξένους χύτραις στεφανούντων,
ἥτις μαλεία μὲν ἐχρῆτο ἐπιστήμη δὲ πάντων καὶ δὴ καὶ κάλλός καὶ ῥώμην
ἀλήρως ἦν· ἡ δὲ Καλλικράτους τοῦ πατρὸς ἐρασθεῖδα τὸ μὲν πρῶτον
συνοικεῖν ἐβούλετο ἐμὲ δὲ ἀνελεῖν· ἔπειτα, ὡς οὐκ ἀνέπειθεν, ἐμὲ γὰρ
ὑπερεφίλει καὶ τὴν ξένην ἐφοβεῖτο, ἀπήγαγεν ἡμᾶς ὑπὸ μαγείας καθʹ ὁδοὺς
σφαλερὰς ἔνθα τὸ βάραθρον τὸ μέγα, οὗ κατὰ στόμα ἔκειτο ὁ γέρων ὁ
φιλόσοφος τεθνεώς, ἀφικομένοις δʹ ἔδειξε φῶς τοῦ βίου εὐθύ, οἷον κίονα
ἑλισσόμενον φώνην ἱέντα καθάπερ βροντῆς, εἶτα διὰ πυρὸς βεβηκυῖα
ἀβλαβὴς καὶ ἔτι καλλίων αὐτὴ ἑαυτῆς ἐξεφάνη. ἐκ δὲ τούτων ὤμοσε καὶ τὸν
σὸν πατέρα ἀθάνατον ἀποδείξειν, εἰ συνοικεῖν οἱ βούλοιτο ἐμὲ δε
ὰνελεῖν, οὐ γὰρ οὖν αὐτὴ ἀνελεῖν ἴσχυεν ὑπὸ τῶν ἡμεδαπῶν ἣν καὶ αὐτὴ
ἔχω μαγείας. ὁ δʹ οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἤθελε, τὼ χεῖρε τῶν ὀμμάτων προίσχων
ἵνα δὴ τὸ τῆς γυναικὸς κάλλος μὴ ὁρῴη· ἔπειτα ὀργισθεῖσα κατεγοήτευσε
μὲν αὐτόν, ἀπολόμενον μέντοι κλάουσα καὶ ὀδυρμένη ἐκεῖθεν ἀπήνεγκεν,
ἐμὲ δὲ φόβῳ ἀφῆκεν εἰς στόμα τοῦ μεγάλου ποταμοῦ τοῦ ναυσιπόρου, πόδδω
δὲ ναυσίν, ἐφʹ ὧνπερ πλέουσα ἔτεκόν σε, ἀποπλεύσασα μόλις ποτὲ δεῦρο
Ἀθηνάζε κατηγαγόν. σὺ δέ, ὦ Τισίσθενες, ὧν ἐπιστέλλω μὴ ὀλιγώρει· δεῖ
γὰρ τῆν γυναῖκα ἀναζητεῖν ἤν πως τῦ βίου μυστήριον ἀνεύρῃς, καὶ
ἀναιρεῖν, ἤν που παρασχῇ, διὰ τὸν πατέρα Καλλικράτους. εἐ δὲ φοβούμενος
ἢ διὰ ἄλλο τι αὐτὸς λείπει τοῦ ἔργου, πᾶσι τοῖς ὕστερον αὐτὸ τοῦτο
ἐπιστέλλω, ἕως ποτὲ ἀγαθός τις γενόμενος τῷ πυρὶ λούσασθαι τολμήσει καὶ
τὰ ἀριστεῖα ἔχων βασιλεῦσαι τῶν ἀνθρώπων· ἄπιστα μὲν δὴ τὰ τοιαῦτα
λέγω, ὅμως δὲ ἃ αὐτὴ ἔγνωκα οὐκ ἐψευσάμην.
The English translation was, as I discovered on further
investigation, and as the reader may easily see by comparison,
both accurate and elegant.
Besides the uncial writing on the convex side of the sherd at the top,
painted in dull red, on what had once been the lip of the amphora, was
the cartouche already mentioned as being on the _scarabæus_, which we
had also found in the casket. The hieroglyphics or symbols, however,
were reversed, just as though they had been pressed on wax. Whether
this was the cartouche of the original Kallikrates,[2] or of some
Prince or Pharaoh from whom his wife Amenartas was descended, I am not
sure, nor can I tell if it was drawn upon the sherd at the same time
that the uncial Greek was inscribed, or copied on more recently from
the Scarab by some other member of the family. Nor was this all. At the
foot of the writing, painted in the same dull red, was the faint
outline of a somewhat rude drawing of the head and shoulders of a
Sphinx wearing two feathers, symbols of majesty, which, though common
enough upon the effigies of sacred bulls and gods, I have never before
met with on a Sphinx.
[2] The cartouche, if it be a true cartouche, cannot have been that of
Kallikrates, as Mr. Holly suggests. Kallikrates was a priest and not
entitled to a cartouche, which was the prerogative of Egyptian
royalty, though he might have inscribed his name or title upon an
_oval_.—Editor.
Also on the right-hand side of this surface of the sherd, painted
obliquely in red on the space not covered by the uncial
characters, and signed in blue paint, was the following quaint
inscription:—
IN EARTH AND SKIE AND SEA
STRANGE THYNGES THER BE.
HOC FECIT
DOROTHEA VINCEY.
Perfectly bewildered, I turned the relic over. It was covered
from top to bottom with notes and signatures in Greek, Latin, and
English. The first in uncial Greek was by Tisisthenes, the son to
whom the writing was addressed. It was, “I could not go.
Tisisthenes to his son, Kallikrates.” Here it is in fac-simile
with its cursive equivalent:—
ΟΥΚΑΝΔΥΝΑΙΜΗΝΠΟΡΕΥΕϹΘΑΙΤΙϹΙϹΘΕΝΗϹΚΑΛΛΙΚΡΑΤΕΙΤΩΙΠΑΙΔΙ
οὐκ ἂν δυναίμην πορεύεσθαι. Τισισθένης Καλλικράτει τῷ παιδί.
This Kallikrates (probably, in the Greek fashion, so named after
his grandfather) evidently made some attempt to start on the
quest, for his entry written in very faint and almost illegible
uncial is, “I ceased from my going, the gods being against me.
Kallikrates to his son.” Here it is also:—
ΤΩΝΘΕΩΝΑΝΤΙΣΤΑΝΤΩΝΕΠΑΥΣΑΜΗΝΤΗΣΠΟΡΕΙΑΣΑΛΛΙΚΡΑΤΗΣΤΩΙΠΑΙΔΙ
τῶν θεῶν ἀντιστάντων ἐπαυσάμην τῆς πορείας. Καλλικράτης τῷ παιδί.
Between these two ancient writings, the second of which was
inscribed upside down and was so faint and worn that, had it not
been for the transcript of it executed by Vincey, I should
scarcely have been able to read it, since, owing to its having
been written on that portion of the tile which had, in the course
of ages, undergone the most handling, it was nearly rubbed
out—was the bold, modern-looking signature of one Lionel Vincey,
“Ætate sua 17,” which was written thereon, I think, by Leo’s
grandfather. To the right of this were the initials “J. B. V.,”
and below came a variety of Greek signatures, in uncial and
cursive character, and what appeared to be some carelessly
executed repetitions of the sentence τῷ παιδί (to my son),
showing that the relic was religiously passed on from generation
to generation.
The next legible thing after the Greek signatures was the word
“Romae, A.U.C.,” showing that the family had now migrated to
Rome. Unfortunately, however, with the exception of its
termination (evi) the date of their settlement there is for ever
lost, for just where it had been placed a piece of the potsherd
is broken away.
Then followed twelve Latin signatures, jotted about here and
there, wherever there was a space upon the tile suitable to their
inscription. These signatures, with three exceptions only, ended
with the name “Vindex” or “the Avenger,” which seems to have been
adopted by the family after its migration to Rome as a kind of
equivalent to the Greek “Tisisthenes,” which also means an
avenger. Ultimately, as might be expected, this Latin cognomen of
Vindex was transformed first into De Vincey, and then into the
plain, modern Vincey. It is very curious to observe how the idea
of revenge, inspired by an Egyptian who lived before the time of
Christ, is thus, as it were, embalmed in an English family name.
A few of the Roman names inscribed upon the sherd I have actually
since found mentioned in history and other records. They were, if
I remember right,
MVSSIVS. VINDEX
SEX. VARIVS MARVLLVS
C. FVFIDIVS. C. F. VINDEX
and