THE BRIDAL CITY
Happy, beautiful Tanis! the city of love and romance and poetry.
Even now, after all these years, as I write, the perfume of a bunch of
gardenias and tuberoses placed on my writing-table brings back to my
memory visions of the snow-white city, where the air is oppressive
with the scent of exotic flowers, and Isis, clad in immaculate
garments, silent and white, gives her blessing on those of her
children who would worship at her shrine--the shrine of love, for
Tanis is the bridal city.
All is white in Tanis: the houses of spotless stone or marble, the
bowers of sweet-scented flowers, the barges on the canals, even the
beasts of burden--cows and donkeys--all are white, and coquettishly
throw that whiteness against a background of grey-green foliage or the
dull, heavy leafage of palms. And in the midst of the city the temple
of Isis, high aloft upon a hill, built of alabaster and silver, all
white, with massive columns and gigantic steps, surrounded by groves
of monster orange trees and tuberoses, amidst which the small
apes--sacred to the moon--run chattering to and fro.
I loved Tanis. Men-ne-fer was gorgeous and rich, Net-amen was
picturesque and bright, but Tanis was poetry, romance, and above all,
living voluptuousness.
The penetrating scent of flowers rendered the temple gardens almost
unbearable at nights, so overpowering was the odour of gardenia and
orange blossom: that garden filled with the quaint and dainty forms of
the priestesses vowed to the goddess and to love! I seem to see it
before me now, in one vast tangle of palms and flowers, with shady
nooks beneath showers of overhanging blossoms. Sensuous, voluptuous
Tanis! where every refinement which art and civilisation could devise
is brought to bear in order to throw a halo of romance and
picturesqueness over the passion which makes gods or beasts of
mankind. And Isis, silent, cold and immaculate, smiles from the
sanctuary of her temple upon the loves which last a lifetime, the
passions which live a day.
Men and women swear before her altar to cherish one another and be
true, until the day when Anubis, the jackal-headed god, at last leads
one or the other soul before the throne of Osiris: and all the while,
outside, in the garden, under the same protection of the goddess,
lithe young arms encircle the passer-by and give freely of those
kisses which are forgotten on the morrow.
Sensuous Tanis! who dost place a crown of glory on the heads of thy
courtesans, and makest a virtue of unchastity. Lovely, poetic Tanis!
within whose sacred walls the holiest vows of truth and honour are
spoken, in spite of all I love thee still. I shut my eyes and see thy
snow-white walls, thy women clad in clinging folds of spotless white,
hear the melancholy sound of sistrum and of harp, and above all smell
the intoxicating odour of thy flower gardens and feel the delicious
languor which thy heavy air doth give.
Strange people! Strange customs! Strange and sensuous Tanis! Within
its walls is the temple of Isis, wherein bridegroom vows to bride
honour, fealty and truth, as solemn, as binding, as the vows we swear
in England unto those that we love; and within the selfsame walls,
surrounding the same hymeneal temple, are the gardens of Isis. Here he
who would pronounce matrimonial vows must dwell for a day and a night
before his wedding, alone and unattended, in a tiny pavilion,
overgrown with climbing tuberoses, which stands in the middle of the
garden. Here, at the evening, when the image of the goddess shines
cold and pure upon the groves of cacti and orange blossoms, sweet
music lures the would-be bridegroom without, and as he walks through
the sweet-scented alleys, dreaming of future homely and legitimate
bliss, the dainty forms of Isis’s priestesses whisper of things he
would fain not hear: white arms beckon to him, and red mouths, framed
for kisses, sing with sweet voices quaint, licentious songs. It is the
mission--honoured, respected, almost held sacred--of these
priestesses, recruited among the fairest in the land, to dissuade the
bridegroom from contracting indissoluble ties.
There is a subtle morality in this strange custom. None but the
strong, the true, should wed in ancient Kamt: the marriage tie is a
divine one, the oath an all-embracing one, and sweet voices whisper to
the weak to pause and reflect, bidding him beware of bonds which later
he cannot break.
When first we heard of this curious custom, expounded to us by a
couple of solemn Egyptians dressed in snow-white robes, with a wreath
of white roses over their funny shaven heads, for the first time,
since many days, I saw Hugh’s eyes twinkling with merriment, but he
preserved perfect outward gravity and assured the people of Tanis that
he would follow the ancient custom of the land and take possession of
the lonely pavilion in the garden of Isis.
Then, when we were alone, we both burst into a fit of laughter, and
Hugh’s laugh sounded as infectious, as sunny as of yore. Of course he
had to stand a good deal of chaff from me.
“For the credit of old England,” I adjured him with mock solemnity as,
late one evening, I accompanied him to the abode of temptation, “do
not disgrace us both, Girlie.”
“Well! I think I may safely promise not to do that, old chap,” he said
with a laugh.
Together we explored the pavilion and garden, which before moonrise
were silent and deserted. The pavilion itself was built of alabaster
and divided into two rooms--one room in which to eat, and one in which
to sleep, when one could. Every drapery in it was white, the curtains,
the couches, the seats; it was lighted from above, as well as from the
sides, so that the rays of the moon could at all times penetrate
within. Here the lonely and expectant bridegroom heard but little of
the din and noise of the city, busy in preparations for the coming
marriage festivities, and of course Hugh would see nothing of the
deputations from every corner of the vast empire which poured into
Tanis, streams of people, men and women and children, who came to
catch a glimpse of the most blessed in the land, the son of Ra, the
well-beloved of the gods.
Somehow I did not like parting from him. These twenty-four hours, the
last before he took the irrevocable step, were sure to be trying for
him; but we had all through our stay in this interesting land most
solemnly decided to follow all its laws and customs, and after all, my
wish to be with Hugh was mere sentimentality. He himself, I think,
preferred to be alone. We never had spoken of _her_ since the day when
I forced Hugh’s confidence. I don’t think he could have borne it, and
Sawnie Girlie was the last man in the world ever to break down, even
before me. His word was a fetish to him. He had given it to a woman
and demanded hers in return, and he meant to carry to the end the
burden which his own hands had placed upon his life. There was no
doubt that he was eating his heart out with longing and with love for
the beautiful girl who could be nothing to him, and I could do nothing
to help or save him. Outwardly he was cheerful, even enthusiastic at
times, but to my ears and eyes, rendered acute by my affection for
him, there was always a false ring in his laugh, a jarring discord in
his enthusiasm.
He seemed to have aged all of a sudden, and on the temples, for the
first time, to-day, I had noticed a few streaks of grey.
When the shades of evening began to draw in round the poetic retreat
where Hugh was to spend the last night of his bachelorhood, I at last
reluctantly decided to go.
“When do you suppose we shall meet again, Girlie?”
“Ah! that I don’t know. The marriage ceremony is an hour after
midnight to-morrow; I go straight to the temple from here, and it
appears that it is against all etiquette that I should wander outside
this garden of Eden until then. Perhaps you can find your way as far
as my loneliness, some time during the day.”
But I was doubtful.
“I can try. What happens after the wedding ceremony?”
“Another strange custom, Mark, old chap,” replied Hugh, with a smile.
“All those present in the temple during the ceremony, including the
bride, retire, leaving the unfortunate bridegroom alone: he is
supposed to pray and to worship Isis, until he sees the first streak
of dawn through the marble gateway. Then he goes out to meet his
bride. But these people, ever seeking for the poetic and the
picturesque, ever sensuous and ever voluptuous, have a custom by which
the royal bridegroom meets his bride in a special bower in the very
middle of this garden.”
“Under the vault of heaven?”
“At dawn, old Mark, and near a tiny waterfall which is sacred to Isis.
You can hear the ripple of the water now.”
“It is indeed poetic.”
“This pretty spot is surrounded with walls and closed in by a gate
which is never opened, save when a royal marriage has taken place.
Then at dawn the bridegroom, having completed his vigil, goes into the
garden, finds that gate open, and there he waits until…”
“I understand. How sensuous these people are! Even in their marriages,
which I believe are as solemn, as earnest, though not as dull as our
English weddings, they contrive to introduce a savour of romance and
transfigure the bride, if only momentarily, into a courtesan.”
“At any rate, during the few hours before dawn, when I am all alone
and supposed to be worshipping the pagan goddess, I am sure you can
remain behind and bear me company. The day after my marriage we return
to Men-ne-fer, and you and I, old Mark, can seriously set to work to
govern our interesting subjects.”
“Good-bye then, old Girlie!” I said, feeling a nasty, uncomfortable
lump in my throat. “If I cannot get to you to-morrow, then I shall not
see you again till after you are Queen Maat-kha’s husband.”
“In any case, Mark, in the temple you will be somewhere near, I know.”
“Unless the holy Pharaoh claims me altogether. You know he is an
arbitrary patient.”
I shook him by the hand, and we parted, he still standing in the
doorway of the snow-white pavilion, his dark head clearly silhouetted
against the alabaster walls, and I hurrying quickly and regretfully
through the tuberose-scented gardens of Isis, the voluptuous goddess.
The Pharaoh had entered Tanis earlier in the day with all the pomp and
glitter of his gorgeous retinue. I went to meet him, and was shocked
to see him looking much more ill than when I left him. I felt a little
remorseful, and now feared that through my desertion of him I might
have lost what influence I had gained over his irritable temper.
However, to my astonishment, he seemed quite pleased to see me, and as
usual, once he had me by his side, refused to allow me to leave him
even for an instant.
It was only during a brief interval while he was asleep that I had had
the chance of accompanying Hugh to the pavilion of Isis.
Queen Maat-kha had accompanied the Pharaoh in his solemn entry into
Tanis. She was closely veiled when she alighted from her boat, and
vouchsafed no recognition of me, and quickly disappeared, followed by
her women.
I believe that she had a special palace, close to the temple of Isis,
where as a royal bride she would reside until her wedding day.
I saw nothing of Princess Neit-akrit, nor did I know if she meant to
be present at the marriage ceremony. I sincerely hoped that she would
not, and that Hugh would be spared the pain of seeing her until all
was irrevocably over. Perhaps when finally wedded to another woman, in
the midst of the many tasks which would naturally devolve upon him, he
would begin to forget the poetic romance which threatened to destroy
his future happiness.