THE DOOM OF THE FIRST THOTH.
“The immortal gods,” said Thoth, “are but the vague memories of great
men, distorted in passing from generation to generation.”
Daphne shuddered. “Dost thou not fear to speak thus?”
“I fear not,” he said, “to speak the truth. But listen and judge
for thyself if the first Thoth, who was born more than two thousand
years ago, is not greater and more to be feared than any god recorded
in Grecian fables. Thou seest yonder the roof of a large building
into which thou hast not yet entered. In that structure sleeps the
first Thoth, surrounded by many generations of his direct descendants.
Consider this well, for what I say I mean in all its fulness. This
king and his vice-regents are not dead, but sleeping. Thou hast heard
of the custom of the Egyptians of embalming their dead. That is but a
foolish ceremony, the reason of which has long been lost,—it is the
husk of the kernel of Thoth’s reason. He discovered a perfect method
of suspending life for an indefinite period, and in the prime of his
life his son and vice-regent, in accordance therewith, laid him down
to sleep. He and his brethren also, at the appointed age, were clothed
with the appearance of death, and a new vice-regent appointed. For one
day in every generation our great father is roused from his sleep, to
invest his vice-regent with authority. I myself was so invested; I
myself have spoken face to face with this most ancient one. Never on
this earth was any solemnity practised by man so calculated to ensure
reverence and obedience. From the middle of the throng of deathlike
sleepers this man rises up, and in a short time feels again the full
tide of life in his veins. He listens to the progress made in the
achievement of his plans, and the growth of the power of his race. He
commands his latest descendants to obey the new vice-regent, and having
for one day put in force his reason and will, he again surrenders
himself to sleep.”
Daphne was awe-struck by this narrative, but with an effort she said,
“And do not the other sleepers also awake?”
“They,” replied Thoth, “are destined to wake only when the task of our
race is on the eve of completion, to take part in our final triumph,
and that is no less than the conquest of the whole earth.”
“Tell me,” she said, fascinated by a weird foreboding of horror, “how
this can be?”
“The task imposed upon us by the supreme will,” he replied, “has been
twofold. In the first place, we have had to make perfect mechanical
contrivances, by which we can journey with incredible speed through the
air. That this has been accomplished thou thyself hast been a witness;
and for each of the sleepers a car has been prepared which surpasses in
speed the flight of birds and the rush of the storm.”
Daphne recalled in all its sublimity her own aërial journey, and she
could not doubt the truth of Thoth’s words.
Then he continued—“But a harder task was ours, and that also has
been at length completed. We have now at our disposal the means of
destroying every living being on the face of the earth. The day is near
at hand when these sleepers are to become the messengers of death. The
earth shall be made desolate, and in time repeopled from this city.
In a few hundred years all the world shall be inhabited by many races
and classes of men, all perfect in their kind, and all governed by the
highest reason.”
Then Daphne cried out in horror—“Do ye intend to destroy all people
living except those in this place?”
“That,” said he, “was the design of the first Thoth, and had the means
been ready fifty years ago, such would have been the case undoubtedly.
But, as I have explained to thee, I have formed the opinion that in his
endeavour to exterminate love in the ruling class, the first Thoth made
an error. Accordingly, we must save some of the best women of thy race,
and if thou wilt thou shalt have the selection. Now thou canst judge of
the truth of my promises, and I will make one promise more. Know that I
have penetrated deeper than my ancestor into the mysteries of life and
death, and thou and I can live in all the fulness of life for hundreds
of years. Thus thou shalt be as a goddess ruling over the earth. Tell
me, Daphne, if the prospect does not surpass thy dreams?”
He spoke with all the enthusiasm of a man who is on the eve of
accomplishing a most honourable deed.
But Daphne answered him, glowing with indignation and anger—
“Thy projects seem to me abominable, and unutterably loathsome.”
“How so?” he asked, with unfeigned wonder.
“Thou speakest as if all mankind were noxious serpents and raging
beasts. To me, a Grecian maiden, thou talkest calmly of destroying the
whole Grecian race. Thou wouldst found a universal tyranny on universal
slaughter, and so degraded is thy nature that thou dost not see
anything horrible in such monstrous crime. I despise myself for ever
having listened to thy love. Kill me, torture me, abuse me, I am in thy
power, but never will I share in thy unholy schemes.”
Then Thoth said to her—“Take heed; even my passion will not bear such
a strain.”
“I would thy passion were turned to hatred,” she cried, “for thou canst
not hate me as I hate thee!”
For a time it seemed as if anger and scorn would altogether destroy
his love; but Daphne quailed not, and in her wrath became even more
beautiful and majestic.
The struggle in Thoth’s mind did not endure long.
“True it is,” he said, “that I cannot hate thee; my love is
overpowering. But I cannot shatter to its foundations the edifice which
my ancestors have raised. Rather would I make the whole world lifeless.
I will give thee a day to reflect.”