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AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS, Part 1.
By Georg Ebers
Volume 1.
THE HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF GEORG EBERS
Translated from the German by Eleanor Grove
PREFACE TO THE SECOND GERMAN EDITION
Aut prodesse volunt ant delectare poetae,
Aut simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitae.
Horat. De arte poetica v. 333.
It is now four years since this book first appeared before the public,
and I feel it my duty not to let a second edition go forth into the world
without a few words of accompaniment. It hardly seems necessary to
assure my readers that I have endeavored to earn for the following pages
the title of a "corrected edition." An author is the father of his book,
and what father could see his child preparing to set out on a new and
dangerous road, even if it were not for the first time, without
endeavoring to supply him with every good that it lay in his power to
bestow, and to free him from every fault or infirmity on which the world
could look unfavorably? The assurance therefore that I have repeatedly
bestowed the greatest possible care on the correction of my Egyptian
Princess seems to me superfluous, but at the same time I think it
advisable to mention briefly where and in what manner I have found it
necessary to make these emendations. The notes have been revised,
altered, and enriched with all those results of antiquarian research
(more especially in reference to the language and monuments of ancient
Egypt) which have come to our knowledge since the year 1864, and which
my limited space allowed me to lay before a general public. On the
alteration of the text itself I entered with caution, almost with
timidity; for during four years of constant effort as academical tutor,
investigator and writer in those severe regions of study which exclude
the free exercise of imagination, the poetical side of a man's nature may
forfeit much to the critical; and thus, by attempting to remodel my tale
entirely, I might have incurred the danger of removing it from the more
genial sphere of literary work to which it properly belongs. I have
therefore contented myself with a careful revision of the style, the
omission of lengthy passages which might have diminished the interest of
the story to general readers, the insertion of a few characteristic or
explanatory additions, and the alteration of the proper names. These
last I have written not in their Greek, but in their Latin forms, having
been assured by more than one fair reader that the names Ibykus and Cyrus
would have been greeted by them as old acquaintances, whereas the
"Ibykos" and "Kyros" of the first edition looked so strange and learned,
as to be quite discouraging. Where however the German k has the same
worth as the Roman c I have adopted it in preference. With respect to
the Egyptian names and those with which we have become acquainted through
the cuneiform inscriptions, I have chosen the forms most adapted to our
German modes of speech, and in the present edition have placed those few
explanations which seemed to me indispensable to the right understanding
of the text, at the foot of the page, instead of among the less easily
accessible notes at the end.
The fact that displeasure has been excited among men of letters by this
attempt to clothe the hardly-earned results of severer studies in an
imaginative form is even clearer to me now than when I first sent this
book before the public. In some points I agree with this judgment, but
that the act is kindly received, when a scholar does not scorn to render
the results of his investigations accessible to the largest number of the
educated class, in the form most generally interesting to them, is proved
by the rapid sale of the first large edition of this work. I know at
least of no better means than those I have chosen, by which to instruct
and suggest thought to an extended circle of readers. Those who read
learned books evince in so doing a taste for such studies; but it may
easily chance that the following pages, though taken up only for
amusement, may excite a desire for more information, and even gain a
disciple for the study of ancient history.
Considering our scanty knowledge of the domestic life of the Greeks and
Persians before the Persian war--of Egyptian manners we know more--even
the most severe scholar could scarcely dispense with the assistance of
his imagination, when attempting to describe private life among the
civilized nations of the sixth century before Christ. He would however
escape all danger of those anachronisms to which the author of such a
work as I have undertaken must be hopelessly liable. With attention and
industry, errors of an external character may be avoided, but if I had
chosen to hold myself free from all consideration of the times in which I
and my readers have come into the world, and the modes of thought at
present existing among us, and had attempted to depict nothing but the
purely ancient characteristics of the men and their times, I should have
become unintelligible to many of my readers, uninteresting to all, and
have entirely failed in my original object. My characters will therefore
look like Persians, Egyptians, &c., but in their language, even more than
in their actions, the German narrator will be perceptible, not always
superior to the sentimentality of his day, but a native of the world in
the nineteenth century after the appearance of that heavenly Master,
whose teaching left so deep an impression on human thought and feeling.
The Persians and Greeks, being by descent related to ourselves, present
fewer difficulties in this respect than the Egyptians, whose dwelling-
place on the fruitful islands won by the Nile from the Desert, completely
isolated them from the rest of the world.
To Professor Lepsius, who suggested to me that a tale confined entirely
to Egypt and the Egyptians might become wearisome, I owe many thanks; and
following his hint, have so arranged the materials supplied by Herodotus
as to introduce my reader first into a Greek circle. Here he will feel
in a measure at home, and indeed will entirely sympathize with them on
one important point, viz.: in their ideas on the Beautiful and on Art.
Through this Hellenic portico he reaches Egypt, from thence passes on to
Persia and returns finally to the Nile. It has been my desire that the
three nations should attract him equally, and I have therefore not
centred the entire interest of the plot in one hero, but have endeavored
to exhibit each nation in its individual character, by means of a fitting
representative. The Egyptian Princess has given her name to the book,
only because the weal and woe of all my other characters were decided by
her fate, and she must therefore be regarded as the central point of the
whole.
In describing Amasis I have followed the excellent description of
Herodotus, which has been confirmed by a picture discovered on an ancient
monument. Herodotus has been my guide too in the leading features of
Cambyses' character; indeed as he was born only forty or fifty years
after the events related, his history forms the basis of my romance.
"Father of history" though he be, I have not followed him blindly, but,
especially in the development of my characters, have chosen those paths
which the principles of psychology have enabled me to lay down for
myself, and have never omitted consulting those hieroglyphic and
cuneiform inscriptions which have been already deciphered. In most cases
these confirm the statements of Herodotus.
I have caused Bartja's murder to take place after the conquest of Egypt,
because I cannot agree with the usually received translation of the
Behistun inscription. This reads as follows: "One named Cambujiya, son
of Curu, of our family, was king here formerly and had a brother named
Bartiya, of the same father and the same mother as Cambujiya. Thereupon
Cambujiya killed that Bartiya." In a book intended for general readers,
it would not be well to enter into a discussion as to niceties of
language, but even the uninitiated will see that the word "thereupon" has
no sense in this connection. In every other point the inscription agrees
with Herodotus' narrative, and I believe it possible to bring it into
agreement with that of Darius on this last as well; but reserve my proofs
for another time and place.
It has not been ascertained from whence Herodotus has taken the name
Smerdis which he gives to Bartja and Gaumata. The latter occurs again,
though in a mutilated form, in Justin.
My reasons for making Phanes an Athenian will be found in Note 90. Vol.
I. This coercion of an authenticated fact might have been avoided in the
first edition, but could not now be altered without important changes in
the entire text. The means I have adopted in my endeavor to make Nitetis
as young as possible need a more serious apology; as, notwithstanding
Herodotus' account of the mildness of Amasis' rule, it is improbable that
King Hophra should have been alive twenty years after his fall. Even
this however is not impossible, for it can be proved that his descendants
were not persecuted by Amasis.
On a Stela in the Leyden Museum I have discovered that a certain Psamtik,
a member of the fallen dynasty, lived till the 17th year of Amasis'
reign, and died at the age of seventy-five.
Lastly let me be permitted to say a word or two in reference to Rhodopis.
That she must have been a remarkable woman is evident from the passage in
Herodotus quoted in Notes 10, and 14, Vol. I., and from the accounts
given by many other writers. Her name, "the rosy-cheeked one," tells us
that she was beautiful, and her amiability and charm of manner are
expressly praised by Herodotus. How richly she was endowed with gifts
and graces may be gathered too from the manner in which tradition and
fairy lore have endeavored to render her name immortal. By many she is
said to have built the most beautiful of the Pyramids, the Pyramid of
Mycerinus or Menkera. One tale related of her and reported by Strabo and
AElian probably gave rise to our oldest and most beautiful fairy tale,
Cinderella; another is near akin to the Loreley legend. An eagle,
according to AElian--the wind, in Strabo's tale,--bore away Rhodopis'
slippers while she was bathing in the Nile, and laid them at the feet of
the king, when seated on his throne of justice in the open market. The
little slippers so enchanted him that he did not rest until he had
discovered their owner and made her his queen.
The second legend tells us how a wonderfully beautiful naked woman could
be seen sitting on the summit of one of the pyramids (ut in una ex
pyramidibus); and how she drove the wanderers in the desert mad through
her exceeding loveliness.
Moore borrowed this legend and introduces it in the following verse:
"Fair Rhodope, as story tells--
The bright unearthly nymph, who dwells
'Mid sunless gold and jewels hid,
The lady of the Pyramid."
Fabulous as these stories sound, they still prove that Rhodopis must have
been no ordinary woman. Some scholars would place her on a level with
the beautiful and heroic Queen Nitokris, spoken of by Julius Africanus,
Eusebius and others, and whose name, (signifying the victorious Neith)
has been found on the monuments, applied to a queen of the sixth dynasty.
This is a bold conjecture; it adds however to the importance of our
heroine; and without doubt many traditions referring to the one have been
transferred to the other, and vice versa. Herodotus lived so short a
time after Rhodopis, and tells so many exact particulars of her private
life that it is impossible she should have been a mere creation of
fiction. The letter of Darius, given at the end of Vol. II., is intended
to identify the Greek Rhodopis with the mythical builder of the Pyramid.
I would also mention here that she is called Doricha by Sappho. This may
have been her name before she received the title of the "rosy-cheeked
one."
I must apologize for the torrent of verse that appears in the love-scenes
between Sappho and Bartja; it is also incumbent upon me to say a few
words about the love-scenes themselves, which I have altered very
slightly in the new edition, though they have been more severely
criticised than any other portion of the work.
First I will confess that the lines describing the happy love of a
handsome young couple to whom I had myself become warmly attached, flowed
from my pen involuntarily, even against my will (I intended to write a
novel in prose) in the quiet night, by the eternal Nile, among the palms
and roses. The first love-scene has a story of its own to me. I wrote
it in half an hour, almost unconsciously. It may be read in my book that
the Persians always reflected in the morning, when sober, upon the
resolutions formed the night before, while drunk. When I examined in the
sunshine what had come into existence by lamplight, I grew doubtful of
its merits, and was on the point of destroying the love-scenes
altogether, when my dear friend Julius Hammer, the author of "Schau in
Dich, und Schau um Dich," too early summoned to the other world by death,
stayed my hand. Their form was also approved by others, and I tell
myself that the 'poetical' expression of love is very similar in all
lands and ages, while lovers' conversations and modes of intercourse vary
according to time and place. Besides, I have to deal with one of those
by no means rare cases, where poetry can approach nearer the truth than
prudent, watchful prose. Many of my honored critics have censured these
scenes; others, among whom are some whose opinion I specially value, have
lavished the kindest praise upon them. Among these gentlemen I will
mention A. Stahr, C. V. Holtei, M. Hartmann, E. Hoefer, W. Wolfsohn, C.
Leemans, Professor Veth of Amsterdam, etc. Yet I will not conceal the
fact that some, whose opinion has great weight, have asked: "Did the
ancients know anything of love, in our sense of the word? Is not
romantic love, as we know it, a result of Christianity?" The following
sentence, which stands at the head of the preface to my first edition,
will prove that I had not ignored this question when I began my task.
"It has often been remarked that in Cicero's letters and those of
Pliny the younger there are unmistakeable indications of sympathy
with the more sentimental feeling of modern days. I find in them
tones of deep tenderness only, such as have arisen and will arise
from sad and aching hearts in every land and every age."
A. v. HUMBOLDT. Cosmos II. P. 19.
This opinion of our great scholar is one with which I cheerfully coincide
and would refer my readers to the fact that love-stories were written
before the Christian era: the Amor and Psyche of Apuleius for instance.
Indeed love in all its forms was familiar to the ancients. Where can we
find a more beautiful expression of ardent passion than glows in Sappho's
songs? or of patient faithful constancy than in Homer's Penelope? Could
there be a more beautiful picture of the union of two loving hearts, even
beyond the grave, than Xenophon has preserved for us in his account of
Panthea and Abradatas? or the story of Sabinus the Gaul and his wife,
told in the history of Vespasian? Is there anywhere a sweeter legend
than that of the Halcyons, the ice-birds, who love one another so
tenderly that when the male becomes enfeebled by age, his mate carries
him on her outspread wings whithersoever he will; and the gods, desiring
to reward such faithful love, cause the sun to shine more kindly, and
still the winds and waves on the "Halcyon days" during which these birds
are building their nest and brooding over their young? There can surely
have been no lack of romantic love in days when a used-up man of the
world, like Antony, could desire in his will that wherever he died his
body might be laid by the side of his beloved Cleopatra: nor of the
chivalry of love when Berenice's beautiful hair was placed as a
constellation in the heavens. Neither can we believe that devotion in
the cause of love could be wanting when a whole nation was ready to wage
a fierce and obstinate war for the sake of one beautiful woman. The
Greeks had an insult to revenge, but the Trojans fought for the
possession of Helen. Even the old men of Ilium were ready "to suffer
long for such a woman." And finally is not the whole question answered
in Theocritus' unparalleled poem, "the Sorceress?" We see the poor love-
lorn girl and her old woman-servant, Thestylis, cowering over the fire
above which the bird supposed to possess the power of bringing back the
faithless Delphis is sitting in his wheel. Simoetha has learnt many
spells and charms from an Assyrian, and she tries them all. The distant
roar of the waves, the stroke rising from the fire, the dogs howling in
the street, the tortured fluttering bird, the old woman, the broken-
hearted girl and her awful spells, all join in forming a night scene the
effect of which is heightened by the calm cold moonshine. The old woman
leaves the girl, who at once ceases to weave her spells, allows her pent-
up tears to have their way, and looking up to Selene the moon, the
lovers' silent confidante, pours out her whole story: how when she first
saw the beautiful Delphis her heart had glowed with love, she had seen
nothing more of the train of youths who followed him, "and," (thus sadly
the poet makes her speak)
"how I gained my home
I knew not; some strange fever wasted me.
Ten days and nights I lay upon my bed.
O tell me, mistress Moon, whence came my love!"
"Then" (she continues) when Delphis at last crossed her threshold:
"I
Became all cold like snow, and from my brow
Brake the damp dewdrops: utterance I had none,
Not e'en such utterance as a babe may make
That babbles to its mother in its dreams;
But all my fair frame stiffened into wax,--
O tell me mistress Moon, whence came my love!"
Whence came her love? thence, whence it comes to us now. The love of
the creature to its Creator, of man to God, is the grand and yet gracious
gift of Christianity. Christ's command to love our neighbor called into
existence not only the conception of philanthropy, but of humanity
itself, an idea unknown to the heathen world, where love had been at
widest limited to their native town and country. The love of man and
wife has without doubt been purified and transfigured by Christianity;
still it is possible that a Greek may have loved as tenderly and
longingly as a Christian. The more ardent glow of passion at least
cannot be denied to the ancients. And did not their love find vent in
the same expressions as our own? Who does not know the charming
roundelay:
"Drink the glad wine with me,
With me spend youth's gay hours;
Or a sighing lover be,
Or crown thy brow with flowers.
When I am merry and mad,
Merry and mad be you;
When I am sober and sad,
Be sad and sober too!"
--written however by no poet of modern days, but by Praxilla, in the
fifth century before Christ. Who would guess either that Moore's little
song was modelled on one written even earlier than the date of our story?
"As o'er her loom the Lesbian maid
In love-sick languor hung her head.
Unknowing where her fingers stray'd,
She weeping turned away and said,'
Oh, my sweet mother, 'tis in vain,
I cannot weave as once I wove;
So wilder'd is my heart and brain
With thinking of that youth I love.'"
If my space allowed I could add much more on this subject, but will
permit myself only one remark in conclusion. Lovers delighted in nature
then as now; the moon was their chosen confidante, and I know of no
modern poem in which the mysterious charm of a summer night and the magic
beauty which lies on flowers, trees and fountains in those silent hours
when the world is asleep, is more exquisitely described than in the
following verses, also by Sappho, at the reading of which we seem forced
to breathe more slowly, "kuhl bis an's Herz hinan."
"Planets, that around the beauteous moon
Attendant wait, cast into shade
Their ineffectual lustres, soon
As she, in full-orb'd majesty array'd,
Her silver radiance pours
Upon this world of ours."
and:--
"Thro' orchard plots with fragrance crown'd,
The clear cold fountain murm'ring flows;
And forest leaves, with rustling sound,
Invite to soft repose."
The foregoing remarks seemed to me due to those who consider a love such
as that of Sappho and Bartja to have been impossible among the ancients.
Unquestionably it was much rarer then than in these days: indeed I
confess to having sketched my pair of lovers in somewhat bright colors.
But may I not be allowed, at least once, to claim the poet's freedom?
How seldom I have availed myself of this freedom will be evident from the
notes included in each volume. They seemed to me necessary, partly in
order to explain the names and illustrate the circumstances mentioned in
the text, and partly to vindicate the writer in the eyes of the learned.
I trust they may not prove discouraging to any, as the text will be found
easily readable without reference to the explanations.
Jena, November 23, 1868.
GEORG EBERS, DR.
PREFACE TO THE FOURTH GERMAN EDITION.
Two years and a half after the appearance of the third edition of "An
Egyptian Princess," a fourth was needed. I returned long since from the
journey to the Nile, for which I was preparing while correcting the
proof-sheets of the third edition, and on which I can look back with
special satisfaction. During my residence in Egypt, in 1872-73, a lucky
accident enabled me to make many new discoveries; among them one treasure
of incomparable value, the great hieratic manuscript, which bears my
name. Its publication has just been completed, and it is now in the
library of the Leipzig University.
The Papyrus Ebers, the second in size and the best preserved of all the
ancient Egyptian manuscripts which have come into our possession, was
written in the 16th century B. C., and contains on 110 pages the hermetic
book upon the medicines of the ancient Egyptians, known also to the
Alexandrine Greeks. The god Thoth (Hermes) is called "the guide" of
physicians, and the various writings and treatises of which the work is
composed are revelations from him. In this venerable scroll diagnoses
are made and remedies suggested for the internal and external diseases of
most portions of the human body. With the drugs prescribed are numbers,
according to which they are weighed with weights and measured with hollow
measures, and accompanying the prescriptions are noted the pious axioms
to be repeated by the physician, while compounding and giving them to the
patient. On the second line of the first page of our manuscript, it is
stated that it came from Sais. A large portion of this work is devoted
to the visual organs. On the twentieth line of the fifty-fifth page
begins the book on the eyes, which fills eight large pages. We were
formerly compelled to draw from Greek and Roman authors what we knew
about the remedies used for diseases of the eye among the ancient
Egyptians. The portion of the Papyrus Ebers just mentioned is now the
only Egyptian source from whence we can obtain instruction concerning
this important branch of ancient medicine.
All this scarcely seems to have a place in the preface of a historical
romance, and yet it is worthy of mention here; for there is something
almost "providential" in the fact that it was reserved for the author of
"An Egyptian Princess" to bestow the gift of this manuscript upon the
scientific world. Among the characters in the novel the reader will meet
an oculist from Sais, who wrote a book upon the diseases of the visual
organs. The fate of this valuable work exactly agrees with the course of
the narrative. The papyrus scroll of the Sais oculist, which a short
time ago existed only in the imagination of the author and readers of "An
Egyptian Princess," is now an established fact. When I succeeded in
bringing the manuscript home, I felt like the man who had dreamed of a
treasure, and when he went out to ride found it in his path.
A reply to Monsieur Jules Soury's criticism of "An Egyptian Princess" in
the Revue des deux Mondes, Vol. VII, January 1875, might appropriately be
introduced into this preface, but would scarcely be possible without
entering more deeply into the ever-disputed question, which will be
answered elsewhere, whether the historical romance is ever justifiable.
Yet I cannot refrain from informing Monsieur Soury here that "An Egyptian
Princess" detained me from no other work. I wrote it in my sick-room,
before entering upon my academic career, and while composing it, found
not only comfort and pleasure, but an opportunity to give dead scientific
material a living interest for myself and others.
Monsieur Soury says romance is the mortal enemy of history; but this
sentence may have no more justice than the one with which I think myself
justified in replying: Landscape painting is the mortal enemy of botany.
The historical romance must be enjoyed like any other work of art. No
one reads it to study history; but many, the author hopes, may be aroused
by his work to make investigations of their own, for which the notes
point out the way. Already several persons of excellent mental powers
have been attracted to earnest Egyptological researches by "An Egyptian
Princess." In the presence of such experiences, although Monsieur
Soury's clever statements appear to contain much that is true, I need not
apply his remark that "historical romances injure the cause of science"
to the present volume.
Leipzig, April 19, 1875.
GEORG EBERS.
PREFACE TO THE FIFTH GERMAN EDITION.
Again a new edition of "An Egyptian Princess" has been required, and
again I write a special preface because the printing has progressed so
rapidly as unfortunately to render it impossible for me to correct some
errors to which my attention was directed by the kindness of the well-
known botanist, Professor Paul Ascherson of Berlin, who has travelled
through Egypt and the Oases.
In Vol. I, page 7, I allow mimosas to grow among other plants in
Rhodopis' garden. I have found them in all the descriptions of the Nile
valley, and afterwards often enjoyed the delicious perfume of the golden
yellow flowers in the gardens of Alexandria and Cairo. I now learn that
this very mimosa (Acacia farnesiana) originates in tropical America, and
was undoubtedly unknown in ancient Egypt. The bananas, which I mentioned
in Vol. I, p. 64, among other Egyptian plants, were first introduced into
the Nile valley from India by the Arabs. The botanical errors occurring
in the last volume I was able to correct. Helm's admirable work on
"Cultivated Plants and Domestic Animals" had taught me to notice such
things. Theophrastus, a native of Asia Minor, gives the first
description of a citron, and this proves that he probably saw the so-
called paradise-apple, but not our citron, which I am therefore not
permitted to mention among the plants cultivated in ancient Lydia. Palms
and birches are both found in Asia Minor; but I permitted them to grow
side by side, thereby committing an offense against the geographical
possibility of vegetable existence. The birch, in this locality,
flourishes in the mountainous region, the palm, according to Griesbach
(Vegetation of the Earth, Vol. I, p. 319) only appears on the southern
coast of the peninsula. The latter errors, as I previously mentioned,
will be corrected in the new edition. I shall of course owe special
thanks to any one who may call my attention to similar mistakes.
Leipzig, March 5, 1877
GEORG EBERS
PREFACE TO THE NINTH GERMAN EDITION.
I have nothing to add to the ninth edition of "An Egyptian Princess"
except that it has been thoroughly revised. My sincere thanks are due to
Dr. August Steitz of Frankfort on the Main, who has travelled through
Egypt and Asia Minor, for a series of admirable notes, which he kindly
placed at my disposal. He will find that they have not remained unused.
Leipzig, November 13, 1879.
GEORG EBERS
AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS.
By Georg Ebers
Volume 1.
CHAPTER I.
The Nile had overflowed its bed. The luxuriant corn-fields and blooming
gardens on its shores were lost beneath a boundless waste of waters; and
only the gigantic temples and palaces of its cities, (protected from the
force of the water by dikes), and the tops of the tall palm-trees and
acacias could be seen above its surface. The branches of the sycamores
and plane-trees drooped and floated on the waves, but the boughs of the
tall silver poplars strained upward, as if anxious to avoid the watery
world beneath. The full-moon had risen; her soft light fell on the
Libyan range of mountains vanishing on the western horizon, and in the
north the shimmer of the Mediterranean could faintly be discerned. Blue
and white lotus-flowers floated on the clear water, bats of all kinds
darted softly through the still air, heavy with the scent of acacia-
blossom and jasmine; the wild pigeons and other birds were at roost in
the tops of the trees, while the pelicans, storks and cranes squatted in
groups on the shore under the shelter of the papyrus-reeds and Nile-
beans. The pelicans and storks remained motionless, their long bills
hidden beneath their wings, but the cranes were startled by the mere beat
of an oar, stretching their necks, and peering anxiously into the
distance, if they heard but the song of the boatmen. The air was
perfectly motionless, and the unbroken reflection of the moon, lying like
a silver shield on the surface of the water, proved that, wildly as the
Nile leaps over the cataracts, and rushes past the gigantic temples of
Upper Egypt, yet on approaching the sea by different arms, he can abandon
his impetuous course, and flow along in sober tranquillity.
On this moonlight night in the year 528 B. C. a bark was crossing the
almost currentless Canopic mouth of the Nile. On the raised deck at the
stern of this boat an Egyptian was sitting to guide the long pole-rudder,
and the half-naked boatmen within were singing as they rowed. In the
open cabin, which was something like a wooden summer-house, sat two men,
reclining on low cushions. They were evidently not Egyptians; their
Greek descent could be perceived even by the moonlight. The elder was an
unusually tall and powerful man of more than sixty; thick grey curls,
showing very little attempt at arrangement, hung down over his short,
firm throat; he wore a simple, homely cloak, and kept his eyes gloomily
fixed on the water. His companion, on the contrary, a man perhaps twenty
years younger, of a slender and delicate build, was seldom still.
Sometimes he gazed into the heavens, sometimes made a remark to the
steersman, disposed his beautiful purple chlanis in fresh folds, or
busied himself in the arrangement of his scented brown curls, or his
carefully curled beard.
[The chlanis was a light summer-mantle, worn especially by the more
elegant Athenians, and generally made of expensive materials. The
simpler cloak, the himation, was worn by the Doric Greeks, and
principally by the Spartans.]
The boat had left Naukratis, at that time the only Hellenic port in
Egypt, about half an hour before.
[This town, which will form the scene of a part of our tale, lies in
the northwest of the Nile Delta, in the Saitic Nomos or district, on
the left bank of the Canopic mouth of the river. According to
Strabo and Eusebius it was founded by Milesians, and Bunsen reckons
749 B. C. It seems that in the earliest times Greek ships were only
allowed to enter this mouth of the Nile in case of necessity. The
entire intercourse of the Egyptians with the hated strangers was, at
that time, restricted to the little island of Pharos lying opposite
to the town of Thonis.]
During their journey, the grey-haired, moody man had not spoken one word,
and the other had left him to his meditations. But now, as the boat
neared the shore, the restless traveller, rising from his couch, called
to his companion: "We are just at our destination, Aristomachus! That
pleasant house to the left yonder, in the garden of palms which you can
see rising above the waters, is the dwelling of my friend Rhodopis. It
was built by her husband Charaxus, and all her friends, not excepting the
king himself, vie with one another in adding new beauties to it year by
year. A useless effort! Let them adorn that house with all the
treasures in the world, the woman who lives within will still remain its
best ornament!"
[We are writing of the month of October, when the Nile begins to
sink. The inundations can now be accurately accounted for,
especially since the important and laborious synoptical work of H.
Barth and S. Baker. They are occasioned by the tropical rains, and
the melting of the snows on the high mountain-ranges at the Equator.
In the beginning of June a gradual rising of the Nile waters can be
perceived; between the 15th and 20th June, this changes to a rapid
increase; in the beginning of October the waters reach their highest
elevation, a point, which, even after having begun their retreat,
they once more attempt to attain; then, at first gradually, and
afterwards with ever increasing rapidity, they continue to sink. In
January, February and March, the Nile is still drying up; and in May
is at its lowest point, when the volume of its waters is only one-
twentieth of that in October.]
The old man sat up, threw a passing glance at the building, smoothed the
thick grey beard which clothed his cheeks and chin, but left the lips
free,--[The Spartans were not in the habit of wearing a beard on the
upper lip.]--and asked abruptly: "Why so much enthusiasm, Phanes, for
this Rhodopis? How long have the Athenians been wont to extol old
women?" At this remark the other smiled, and answered in a self-
satisfied tone, "My knowledge of the world, and particularly of women,
is, I flatter myself, an extended one, and yet I repeat, that in all
Egypt I know of no nobler creature than this grey-haired woman. When you
have seen her and her lovely grandchild, and heard your favorite melodies
sung by her well-practised choir of slave-girls, I think you will thank
me for having brought you hither."--"Yet," answered the Spartan gravely,
"I should not have accompanied you, if I had not hoped to meet Phryxus,
the Delphian, here."
"You will find him here; and besides, I cannot but hope that the songs
will cheer you, and dispel your gloomy thoughts." Aristomachus shook his
head in denial, and answered: "To you, sanguine Athenians, the melodies
of your country may be cheering: but not so to me; as in many a sleepless
night of dreams, my longings will be doubled, not stilled by the songs of
Alkman."
[Alkman (Attic, Alkmaeon) flourished in Sparta about 650 B. C. His
mother was a Lydian slave in Sardes, and he came into the possession
of Agesides, who gave him his freedom. His beautiful songs soon
procured him the rights of a Lacedaemonian citizen. He was
appointed to the head-directorship in the entire department of music
in Lacedaemon and succeeded in naturalizing the soft Lydian music.
His language was the Doric-Laconian. After a life devoted to song,
the pleasures of the table and of love, he is said to have died of
a fearful disease. From the frequent chorusses of virgins
(Parthenien) said to have been originally introduced by him, his
frequent songs in praise of women, and the friendly relations in
which he stood to the Spartan women (more especially to the fair
Megalostrata), he gained the name of the woman's poet.]
"Do you think then," replied Phanes, "that I have no longing for my
beloved Athens, for the scenes of our youthful games, for the busy life
of the market? Truly, the bread of exile is not less distasteful to my
palate than to yours, but, in the society afforded by this house, it
loses some of its bitterness, and when the dear melodies of Hellas, so
perfectly sung, fall on my ear, my native land rises before me as in a
vision, I see its pine and olive groves, its cold, emerald green rivers,
its blue sea, the shimmer of its towns, its snowy mountain-tops and
marble temples, and a half-sweet, half-bitter tear steals down my cheek
as the music ceases, and I awake to remember that I am in Egypt, in this
monotonous, hot, eccentric country, which, the gods be praised, I am soon
about to quit. But, Aristomachus, would you then avoid the few Oases in
the desert, because you must afterwards return to its sands and drought?
Would you fly from one happy hour, because days of sadness await you
later? But stop, here we are! Show a cheerful countenance, my friend,
for it becomes us not to enter the temple of the Charites with sad
hearts."--[The goddesses of grace and beauty, better known by their Roman
name of "Graces."]
As Phanes uttered these words, they landed at the garden wall, washed by
the Nile. The Athenian bounded lightly from the boat, the Spartan
following with a heavier, firmer tread. Aristomachus had a wooden leg,
but his step was so firm, even when compared with that of the light-
footed Phanes, that it might have been thought to be his own limb.
The garden of Rhodopis was as full of sound, and scent and blossom as a
night in fairy-land. It was one labyrinth of acanthus shrubs, yellow
mimosa, the snowy gelder-rose, jasmine and lilac, red roses and
laburnums, overshadowed by tall palm-trees, acacias and balsam trees.
Large bats hovered softly on their delicate wings over the whole, and
sounds of mirth and song echoed from the river.
This garden had been laid out by an Egyptian, and the builders of the
Pyramids had already been celebrated for ages for their skill in
horticulture. They well understood how to mark out neat flower-beds,
plant groups of trees and shrubs in regular order, water the whole by
aqueducts and fountains, arrange arbors and summerhouses, and even
inclose the walks with artistically clipped hedges, and breed goldfish in
stone basins.
At the garden gate Phanes stopped, looked around him carefully and
listened; then shaking his head, "I do not understand what this can
mean," he said. "I hear no voices, there is not a single light to be
seen, the boats are all gone, and yet the flag is still flying at its gay
flag-staff, there, by the obelisks on each side of the gate."
[Obelisks bearing the name of the owner were sometimes to be seen
near the gates of the Egyptian country-houses. Flags too were not
uncommon, but these were almost exclusively to be found at the gates
of the temples, where to this day the iron sockets for the flagstaff
can still be seen. Neither were flags unknown to the Greeks. It
appears from some inscriptions on the staffs of the Pylons, that if
the former were not actually erected for lightning-rods, it had been
noticed that they attracted the electricity.]
"Rhodopis must surely be from home; can they have forgotten?"--Here a
deep voice suddenly interrupted him with the exclamation, "Ha! the
commander of the body-guard!"
"A pleasant evening to you, Knakais," exclaimed Phanes, kindly greeting
the old man, who now came up. "But how is it that this garden is as
still as an Egyptian tomb, and yet the flag of welcome is fluttering at
the gate? How long has that white ensign waved for guests in vain?"
"How long indeed?" echoed the old slave of Rhodopis with a smile. "So
long as the Fates graciously spare the life of my mistress, the old flag
is sure to waft as many guests hither as the house is able to contain.
Rhodopis is not at home now, but she must return shortly. The evening
being so fine, she determined on taking a pleasure-trip on the Nile with
her guests. They started at sunset, two hours ago, and the evening meal
is already prepared; they cannot remain away much longer. I pray you,
Phanes, to have patience and follow me into the house. Rhodopis would
not easily forgive me, if I allowed such valued guests to depart. You
stranger," he added, turning to the Spartan, "I entreat most heartily to
remain; as friend of your friend you will be doubly welcome to my
mistress."
The two Greeks, following the servant, seated themselves in an arbor, and
Aristomachus, after gazing on the scene around him now brilliantly
lighted by the moon, said, "Explain to me, Phanes, by what good fortune
this Rhodopis, formerly only a slave and courtesan can now live as a
queen, and receive her guests in this princely manner?"
[The mistresses (Hetaere) of the Greeks must not be compared with
modern women of bad reputation. The better members of this class
represented the intelligence and culture of their sex in Greece, and
more especially in the Ionian provinces. As an instance we need
only recall Aspasia and her well-attested relation to Pericles and
Socrates. Our heroine Rhodopis was a celebrated woman. The
Hetaera, Thargalia of Miletus, became the wife of a Thessalian king.
Ptolemy Lagi married Thais; her daughter was called Irene, and her
sons Leontiskus and Lagus. Finally, statues were erected to many.]
"I have long expected this question," answered the Athenian. "I shall be
delighted to make you acquainted with the past history of this woman
before you enter her house. So long as we were on the Nile, I would not
intrude my tale upon you; that ancient river has a wonderful power of
compelling to silence and quiet contemplation. Even my usually quick
tongue was paralyzed like yours, when I took my first night-journey on
the Nile."
"I thank you for this," replied the Spartan. "When I first saw the aged
priest Epimenides," at Knossus in Crete, he was one hundred and fifty
years old, and I remember that his age and sanctity filled me with a
strange dread; but how far older, how far more sacred, is this hoary
river, the ancient stream 'Aigyptos'!" Who would wish to avoid the power
of his spells? Now, however, I beg you to give me the history of
Rhodopis."
Phanes began: "When Rhodopis was a little child playing with her
companions on the Thracian sea-shore, she was stolen by some Phoenician
mariners, carried to Samos, and bought by Iadmon, one of the geomori, or
landed aristocracy of the island. The little girl grew day by day more
beautiful, graceful and clever, and was soon an object of love and
admiration to all who knew her. AEsop, the fable-writer, who was at that
time also in bondage to Iadmon, took an especial pleasure in the growing
amiability and talent of the child, taught her and cared for her in the
same way as the tutors whom we keep to educate our Athenian boys.
The kind teacher found his pupil tractable and quick of comprehension,
and the little slave soon practised the arts of music, singing and
eloquence, in a more charming and agreeable manner than the sons of her
master Iadmon, on whose education the greatest care had been lavished.
By the time she had reached her fourteenth year, Rhodopis was so
beautiful and accomplished, that the jealous wife of Iadmon would not
suffer her to remain any longer in the house, and the Samian was forced,
with a heavy heart, to sell her to a certain Xanthus. The government of
Samos at that time was still in the hands of the less opulent nobles; had
Polykrates then been at the head of affairs, Xanthus need not have
despaired of a purchaser. These tyrants fill their treasuries as the
magpies their nests! As it was, however, he went off with his precious
jewel to Naukratis, and there gained a fortune by means of her wondrous
charms. These were three years of the deepest humiliation to Rhodopis,
which she still remembers with horror.
Now it happened, just at the time when her fame was spreading through all
Greece, and strangers were coming from far to Naukratis for her sake
alone, that the people of Lesbos rose up against their nobles, drove them
forth, and chose the wise Pittakus as their ruler.
[According to Herodotus the beauty of Rhodopis was so great that
every Greek knew her by name.]
The highest families of Lesbos were forced to leave the country, and
fled, some to Sicily, some to the Greek provinces of Italy, and others to
Egypt. Alcaeus, the greatest poet of his day, and Charaxus, the brother
of that Sappho whose odes it was our Solon's last wish to learn by heart,
came here to Naukratis, which had already long been the flourishing
centre of commercial communication between Egypt and the rest of the
world. Charaxus saw Rhodopis, and soon loved her so passionately, that
he gave an immense sum to secure her from the mercenary Xanthus, who was
on the point of returning with her to his own country; Sappho wrote some
biting verses, derisive of her brother and his purchase, but Alcaeus on
the other hand, approved, and gave expression to this feeling in glowing
songs on the charms of Rhodopis. And now Sappho's brother, who had till
then remained undistinguished among the many strangers at Naukratis,
became a noted man through Rhodopis. His house was soon the centre of
attraction to all foreigners, by whom she was overwhelmed with gifts.
The King Hophra, hearing of her beauty and talent, sent for her to
Memphis, and offered to buy her of Charaxus, but the latter had already
long, though secretly, given Rhodopis her freedom, and loved her far too
well to allow of a separation. She too, loved the handsome Lesbian and
refused to leave him despite the brilliant offers made to her on all
sides. At length Charaxus made this wonderful woman his lawful wife, and
continued to live with her and her little daughter Kleis in Naukratis,
until the Lesbian exiles were recalled to their native land by Pittakus.
He then started homeward with his wife, but fell ill on the journey, and
died soon after his arrival at Mitylene. Sappho, who had derided her
brother for marrying one beneath him, soon became an enthusiastic admirer
of the beautiful widow and rivalled Alcaeus in passionate songs to her
praise.
After the death of the poetess, Rhodopis returned, with her little
daughter, to Naukratis, where she was welcomed as a goddess. During this
interval Amasis, the present king of Egypt, had usurped the throne of the
Pharaohs, and was maintaining himself in its possession by help of the
army, to which caste he belonged.
[Amasis, of whom much will be said in our text, reigned 570-526 B.
C. His name, in the hieroglyphic signs, was Aahmes or young moon
but the name by which he was commonly called was Sa-Nit "Son of
Neith." His name, and pictures of him are to be found on stones in
the fortress of Cairo, on a relief in Florence, a statue in the
Vatican, on sarcophagi in Stockholm and London, a statue in the
Villa Albani and on a little temple of red granite at Leyden. A
beautiful bust of gray-wacke in our possession probably represents
the same king.]