Here, for the first time, the calmness of the Egyptian forsook him: though his countenance remained impassive, his voice gave way.
“Do not too much despise my countrymen,” he began again. “They did not all forget God.
I said awhile ago, you may remember, that to papyri we intrusted all the secrets of our religion except one; of that I will now tell you.
We had as king once a certain Pharaoh, who lent himself to all manner of changes and additions.
To establish the new system, he strove to drive the old entirely out of mind.
The Hebrews then dwelt with us as slaves.
They clung to their God; and when the persecution became intolerable, they were delivered in a manner never to be forgotten.
I speak from the records now.
Mosche, himself a Hebrew, came to the palace, and demanded permission for the slaves, then millions in number, to leave the country.
The demand was in the name of the Lord God of Israel.
Pharaoh refused.
Hear what followed.
First, all the water, that in the lakes and rivers, like that in the wells and vessels, turned to blood.
Yet the monarch refused.
Then frogs came up and covered all the land.
Still he was firm.
Then Mosche threw ashes in the air, and a plague attacked the Egyptians.
Next, all the cattle, except of the Hebrews, were struck dead.
Locusts devoured the green things of the valley.
At noon the day was turned into a darkness so thick that lamps would not burn.
Finally, in the night all the first-born of the Egyptians died; not even Pharaoh’s escaped.
Then he yielded.
But when the Hebrews were gone he followed them with his army.
At the last moment the sea was divided, so that the fugitives passed it dry-shod.
When the pursuers drove in after them, the waves rushed back and drowned horse, foot, charioteers, and king.
You spoke of revelation, my Gaspar— ”
The blue eyes of the Greek sparkled.
“I had the story from the Jew,” he cried. “You confirm it, O Balthasar!”
“Yes, but through me Egypt speaks, not Mosche.
I interpret the marbles.
The priests of that time wrote in their way what they witnessed, and the revelation has lived.
So I come to the one unrecorded secret.
In my country, brethren, we have, from the day of the unfortunate Pharaoh, always had two religions— one private, the other public; one of many gods, practised by the people; the other of one God, cherished only by the priesthood.
Rejoice with me, O brothers!
All the trampling by the many nations, all the harrowing by kings, all the inventions of enemies, all the changes of time, have been in vain.
Like a seed under the mountains waiting its hour, the glorious Truth has lived; and this— this is its day!”
The wasted frame of the Hindoo trembled with delight, and the Greek cried aloud,
“It seems to me the very desert is singing.”
From a gurglet of water near-by the Egyptian took a draught, and proceeded:
“I was born at Alexandria, a prince and a priest, and had the education usual to my class.
But very early I became discontented.
Part of the faith imposed was that after death upon the destruction of the body, the soul at once began its former progression from the lowest up to humanity, the highest and last existence; and that without reference to conduct in the mortal life.
When I heard of the Persian’s Realm of Light, his Paradise across the bridge Chinevat, where only the good go, the thought haunted me; insomuch that in the day, as in the night, I brooded over the comparative ideas Eternal Transmigration and Eternal Life in Heaven.
If, as my teacher taught, God was just, why was there no distinction between the good and the bad?
At length it became clear to me, a certainty, a corollary of the law to which I reduced pure religion, that death was only the point of separation at which the wicked are left or lost, and the faithful rise to a higher life; not the nirvana of Buddha, or the negative rest of Brahma, O Melchior; nor the better condition in hell, which is all of Heaven allowed by the Olympic faith, O Gaspar; but life— life active, joyous, everlasting—priesthood?
The reason for the suppression was gone.
Philosophy had at least brought us toleration.
In Egypt we had Rome instead of Rameses.
One day, in the Brucheium, the most splendid and crowded quarter of Alexandria, I arose and preached.
The East and West contributed to my audience.