The apparition with which I had been blessed in that Valley of Visions—as
the place where I had witnessed these wonders was called—brought back to
my heart all the hopes and fancies, in which I had indulged during my
descent from earth. I had now seen once more that matchless creature, who
had been my guiding star into this mysterious world; and that she was, in
some way, connected with the further revelations that awaited me, I saw no
reason to doubt. There was a sublimity, too, in the doctrines of my
reverend teacher, and even a hope in the promises of immortality held out
by him, which, in spite of reason, won insensibly both upon my fancy and
my pride.
The Future, however, was now but of secondary consideration;—the Present,
and that deity of the Present, woman, were the objects that engrossed my
whole soul. For the sake, indeed, of such beings alone did I think
immortality desirable, nor, without them, would eternal life have appeared
to me worth a prayer. To every further trial of my patience and faith, I
now made up my mind to submit without a murmur. Some propitious chance, I
fondly persuaded myself, might yet bring me nearer to the object of my
adoration, and enable me to address, as mortal woman, her who had hitherto
been to me but as a vision, a shade.
The period of my probation, however, was nearly at an end. Both frame and
spirit had now been tried; and, as the crowning test of the purification
of the latter was that power of seeing into the world of spirits, with
which, in the Valley of Visions, I had proved myself to be endowed, there
remained now, to perfect my Initiation, but this one night more, when, in
the Temple of Isis, and in the presence of her unveiled image, the last
grand revelation of the Secret of Secrets was to open upon me.
I passed the morning of this day in company with the same venerable
personage, who had, from the first, presided over the ceremonies of my
instruction; and who, to inspire me with due reverence for the power and
magnificence of his religion, now conducted me through the long range of
illuminated galleries and shrines, that extend under the site upon which
Memphis and the Pyramids stand, and form a counterpart under ground to
that mighty city of temples upon earth.
He then descended with me, still lower, into those winding crypts, where
lay the Seven Tables of stone, found by Hermes in the valley of Hebron.
“On these tables,” said he, “is written all the knowledge of the
antediluvian race,—the decrees of the stars from the beginning of time,
the annals of a still earlier world, and all the marvellous secrets, both
of heaven and earth, which would have been,
“_but_ for this key,
Lost in the Universal Sea.”
Returning to the region, from which we had descended, we next visited, in
succession, a series of small shrines, representing the various objects of
adoration through Egypt, and thus furnishing to the Priest an occasion for
explaining the mysterious nature of animal worship, and the refined
doctrines of theology that lay veiled under its forms. Every shrine was
consecrated to a particular faith, and contained a living image of the
deity which it adored. Beside the goat of Mendes, with his refulgent star
upon his breast, I saw the crocodile, as presented to the eyes of its
idolaters at Arsinoë, with costly gems in its loathsome ears, and rich
bracelets of gold encircling its feet. Here, floating through a tank in
the centre of a temple, the sacred carp of Lepidotum exhibited its silvery
scales; while, there, the Isiac serpents trailed languidly over the altar,
with that movement which most inspires the hopes of their votaries. In one
of the small chapels we found a beautiful child, feeding and watching over
those golden beetles, which are adored for their brightness, as emblems of
the sun; while, in another, stood a sacred ibis upon its pedestal, so
like, in plumage and attitude, to the bird of the young Priestess, that I
could gladly have knelt down and worshipped it for her sake.
After visiting these various shrines, and listening to the reflections
which they suggested, I was next led by my guide to the Great Hall of the
Zodiac, on whose ceiling, in bright and undying colours, was delineated
the map of the firmament, as it appeared at the first dawn of time. Here,
in pointing out the track of the sun, among the spheres, he spoke
eloquently of the analogy that exists between moral and physical
darkness—of the sympathy with which all spiritual creatures regard the
sun, so as to sadden and droop when he sinks into his wintry hemisphere,
and to rejoice when he resumes his own empire of light. Hence, the
festivals and hymns, with which most of the nations of the earth are wont
to welcome the resurrection of his orb in spring, as an emblem and pledge
of the re‐ascent of the soul to heaven. Hence, the songs of sorrow, the
mournful ceremonies,—like those Mysteries of the Night, upon the Lake of
Saïs,—in which they brood over his autumnal descent into the shades, as a
type of the Spirit’s fall into this world of death.
In discourses such as these the hours passed away; and though there was
nothing in the light of this sunless region to mark to the eye the decline
of day, my own feelings told me that the night drew near;—nor, in spite of
my incredulity, could I refrain from a flutter of hope, as that promised
moment of revelation approached, when the Mystery of Mysteries was to be
made all my own. This consummation, however, was less near than I
expected. My patience had still further trials to encounter. It was
necessary, I now found, that I should keep watch, during the greater part
of the night, in the Sanctuary of the Temple, alone and in darkness,—and
thus prepare myself, by meditation, for the awful moment, when the
irradiation from behind the sacred Veils was to burst upon me.
At the appointed hour, we left the Hall of the Zodiac, and proceeded
through a line of long marble galleries, where the lamps were more thinly
scattered as we advanced, till, at length, we found ourselves in total
darkness. Here the Priest, taking me by the hand, and leading me down a
flight of steps, into a place where the same deep gloom prevailed, said,
with a voice trembling, as if from excess of awe,—“Thou art now in the
Sanctuary of our goddess, Isis, and the dark veils, that hang over her
image, are before thee!”
After exhorting me earnestly to that train of thought, which best accorded
with the spirit of the place where I stood, and, above all, to that full
and unhesitating faith, with which alone, he said, the manifestation of
such mysteries should be approached, the holy man took leave of me, and
re‐ascended the steps;—while, so spell‐bound did I feel by that deep
darkness, that the last sound of his footsteps died upon my ear, before I
ventured to stir a limb from the position in which he had left me.
The prospect of the long watch, now before me, was dreadful. Even danger
itself, in an active form, would have been preferable to this sort of
safe, but dull, probation, by which patience was the only virtue put to
the proof. Having ascertained how far the space around me was free from
obstacles, I endeavoured to beguile the time by pacing up and down within
those limits, till I became tired of the echoes of my own tread. Finding
my way, then, to what I felt to be a massive pillar, and, leaning wearily
against it, I surrendered myself to a train of thoughts and feelings, far
different from those with which the Hierophant had hoped to inspire me.
“Why,” I again asked, “if these priests possess the secret of life, why
are they themselves the victims of death? why sink into the grave with the
cup of immortality in their hands? But no, safe boasters, the eternity
they so lavishly promise is reserved for _another_, a future world—that
ready resource of all priestly promises—that depository of the airy
pledges of all creeds. Another world!—alas, where does it lie? or, what
spirit hath ever come to say that Life is there?”
The conclusion, to which, half sadly, half passionately, I arrived, was
that, life being but a dream of the moment, never to come again, every
bliss that is promised for hereafter should be secured by the wise man
here. And, as no heaven I had ever heard of from these visionary priests
opened half such certainty of happiness as that smile which I beheld last
night,—“Let me,” I exclaimed, impatiently, striking the massy pillar, till
it rung, “let me but make that beautiful Priestess my own, and I here
willingly exchange for her every chance of immortality, that the combined
wisdom of Egypt’s Twelve Temples can offer me!”
No sooner had I uttered these words, than a tremendous peal, like that of
thunder, rolled over the Sanctuary, and seemed to shake its walls. On
every side, too, a succession of blue, vivid flashes pierced, like so many
lances of light, through the gloom, revealing to me, at intervals, the
mighty dome in which I stood—its ceiling of azure, studded with stars, its
colossal columns, towering aloft, and those dark, mysterious veils, which
hung, in massy drapery, from the roof to the floor, and covered the rich
glories of the Shrine under their folds.
So weary had I grown of my tedious watch, that this stormy and fitful
illumination, during which the Sanctuary seemed to rock to its base, was
by no means an unwelcome interruption of the monotony under which my
impatience suffered. After a short interval, however, the flashes
ceased;—the sounds died away, like exhausted thunder, through the abyss,
and darkness and silence, like that of the grave, succeeded.
Resting my back once more against the pillar, and fixing my eyes upon that
side of the Sanctuary, from which the promised irradiation was to burst, I
now resolved to await the awful moment in patience. Resigned and
immovable, I had remained thus, for nearly another hour, when, suddenly,
along the edges of the mighty Veils, I perceived a thin rim of light, as
if from some brilliant object under them;—like that border which encircles
a cloud at sunset, when the radiance, from behind, is escaping at its
edges.
This indication of concealed glories grew every instant more strong; till,
at last, vividly marked as it was upon the darkness, the narrow fringe of
lustre almost pained the eye, giving promise of a splendour too bright to
be endured. My expectations were now wound to the highest pitch, and all
the scepticism, into which I had been cooling down my mind, was forgotten.
The wonders that had been presented to me since my descent from earth—that
glimpse into Elysium on the first night of my coming—those visitants from
the Land of Spirits in the mysterious valley,—all led me to expect, in
this last and brightest revelation, such visions of glory and knowledge as
might transcend even fancy itself, nor leave a doubt that they belonged
less to earth than heaven.
While, with an imagination thus excited, I stood waiting the result, an
increased gush of light still more awakened my attention; and I saw, with
an intenseness of interest, which made my heart beat aloud, one of the
corners of the mighty Veil slowly raised up. I now felt that the Great
Secret—whatever it might be—was at hand. A vague hope even crossed my
mind—so wholly had imagination resumed her empire—that the splendid
promise of my dream was on the point of being realised!
With surprise, however, and—for a moment—with disappointment, I perceived,
that the massy corner of the Veil was but raised sufficiently to allow a
female figure to emerge from under it,—and then fell again, over its
mystic splendours, as dark as before. By the strong light, too, that
issued when the drapery was lifted, and illuminated the profile of the
emerging figure, I either saw, or fancied that I saw, the same bright
features, that had already mocked me so often with their momentary charm,
and seemed destined to haunt my heart as unavailingly as the fond, vain
dream of Immortality itself.
Dazzled as I had been by that short gush of splendour, and distrusting
even my senses, when under the influence of a fancy so excited, I had
hardly time to question myself as to the reality of my impression, when I
heard the sounds of light footsteps approaching me through the gloom. In a
second or two more, the figure stopped before me, and, placing the end of
a riband gently in my hand, said, in a tremulous whisper, “Follow, and be
silent.”
So sudden and strange was the adventure, that, for a moment, I
hesitated,—fearful lest my eyes should have been deceived as to the object
they had seen. Casting a look towards the Veil, which seemed bursting with
its luminous secret, I was almost doubting to which of the two chances I
should commit myself, when I felt the riband in my hand pulled softly at
the other extremity. This movement, at once, like a touch of magic,
decided me. Without further deliberation, I yielded to the silent summons,
and following my guide, who was already at some distance before me, found
myself led up the same flight of marble steps, by which the Priest had
conducted me into the Sanctuary. Arrived at their summit, I felt the pace
of my conductress quicken, and, giving one more look to the Veiled Shrine,
whose glories we left burning ineffectually behind us, hastened into the
gloom, full of confidence in the belief, that she, who now held the other
end of that clue, was one whom I could follow devotedly through the world.