Chapter XIII: A Rival for Edith (5)

"The ureus (the asp) ornamented the brows of all the kings. It is also found adorning the foreheads of some of the gods. 'The asp does not grow old,' says Plutarch (Isis and Osiris), 'and, though without organs of locomotion, it moves with great facility.' The Egyptians considered it as the emblem of the eternal youth of the sun and its course in the heavens."

The sentiment of loyalty was carried so far among the Egyptians that it was considered a duty to obey their kings even in the caprices of their fantasy and pride. They respected those who were bad while they lived, reserving the right of judging them after their death.

"What took place at the death of their kings was not one of the least proofs of their attachment to them, for the honors rendered to the dead are an incontestable proof of sincerity of affection. When one of the kings died, all the inhabitants mourned, rent their garments, closed the temples, abstained from sacrifices, and celebrated no festivals for seventy-two days. Every one passed the prescribed number of days in affliction and mourning, as for the death of a cherished child. During this time preparations were made for a magnificent funeral, and on the last day they placed the chest containing the body of the deceased at the entrance of the tomb. They then proceeded, according to the law, to pass judgment on all the king had done during his life. Every one had the right of making his accusation. The priests pronounced a panegyric, relating the praiseworthy deeds of the king. Thousands of auditors applauded it if the king's life had been without reproach; if otherwise, they expressed their disapproval by murmurs. Many kings, through the opposition of the people, were deprived of suitable burial. This led their successors to deal justly, not only for reasons already mentioned, but for fear their bodies might be treated ignominiously after death, and their memory be for ever cursed."[210]

"There are still to be seen in Egypt," says Champollion-Figeac, "testimonies significant of this custom. The names of some sovereigns are carefully effaced from the monuments they had erected during their reign. They are carefully hammered down even on their tombs." Among the names of the kings thus condemned after death, Champollion mentions that of Pharaoh Mandouéi, of the eighteenth dynasty. Wherever this name stood, on all representations of the king, or on the edifices he had erected, it is carefully effaced and hammered, though expressed by the image of the god Mandou, whose name he bore. The systematic suppression of this king's name on all the public monuments can only be explained as the result of one of those severe judgments passed by the Egyptian nation upon wicked kings after their death.[211]

"There was in Egypt," says Bossuet, "a kind of judgment, quite extraordinary, which no one escaped.... This custom of judging kings after their death appeared so sacred to the people of God, that they always practised it. We see in the Scriptures that wicked kings were deprived of burial among their ancestors, and we learn from Josephus that this custom was still kept up in the time of the Asmoneans. It led kings to remember that, if above human judgment during their lives, they must be subjected thereto when death reduced them to the level of ordinary mortals."[212]

Notwithstanding so many wise precautions, the kings of Egypt did not always pursue the course so clearly marked out by the national traditions and the interests of the nation. More than one Pharaoh, intoxicated by sovereign authority, made his subjects experience the heavy hand of tyranny. The numerous changes of dynasties (thirty-one are reckoned before the conquest by Alexander the Great) also show that the nation more than once succeeded in overthrowing the despotic government of those that abused their power. But, through all changes of dynasties, and in spite of the struggles of rival families, the Egyptians always remained faithful to the monarchical principle, indissolubly attached to its institutions, customs, and manners. "At no time," says Herodotus, "have the Egyptians been able to live without kings."

FOOTNOTES:

[181] Mariette, _Notice des principaux Monuments exposés dans les Galeries provisoires du Musée d'Antiquités Egyptiennes de S. A. le Vice-Roi, à Boulaq_. Alexandrie. 1864. It may be well to remark here that the antiquity of the Egyptian nation is by no means irreconcilable with the Septuagint, as Mgr. Meignan shows in his learned work on _Le Monde primitif_, pp. 164 and 151. Paris. 1869. Palmé.

[182] _Egypt ancienne_, by Champollion-Figeac. Paris. 1859.

[183] _Aperçu de l'Histoire d'Egypte depuis les Temps les plus reculés jusqu'à la Conquête Musulmane._ By Auguste Mariette-Bey, Director of the Company for the Preservation of Egyptian Antiquities. Alexandria. 1864.

[184] E. Renan. _Les Antiquités et les Fouilles d'Egypte_ (_Revue des Deux Mondes_, for April 1, 1865).

[185] H. Dufresne, _Moniteur Officiel_ for July 2, 1867.

[186] Gladstone.

[187] Bossuet, _Discours sur l'Histoire universelle_.

[188] Robiau, _Histoire ancienne du Peuple de l'Orient_, p. 83.

[189] Mariette, _Notice des principaux Monuments du Musée d'Antiquités Egyptiennes à Boulaq_, P. 75.

[190] Little moral treatise by Phtah-Hotep, who lived in the reign of Assa-Tatkera, the last king but one of the fifth dynasty--partly translated by M. Chabas in the _Revue Archéol._, xxix., first series.

[191] Champollion-Figeac, _Egypte ancienne_, 173.

[192] Robiau, _Histoire anc. des Peuples de l'Orient_.

[193] De Bonald, _Thêorie du Pouvoir_, vol. i. p. 253.

[194] Champollion-Figeac.

[195] Champollion-Figeac, _Egypte ancienne_, p. 173.

[196] Diodorus.

[197] Bossuet, _Discours sur l'Histoire univ_. The passage from Diodorus which inspired the sagacious reflections of the illustrious Bishop of Meaux is this: "Wrestling and music are not allowed to be taught, for, according to the Egyptian belief, the daily exercise of the body gives young men not health, but a transient strength which is prejudicial. As to music, it is considered not only useless, but injurious, as rendering the mind of man effeminate."

[198] The large wigs so often found on the monuments of the ancient monarchy, worn by both sexes, like the turban, were a preservative against the ardor of the sun's rays.

[199] Herodotus; Diodorus Siculus.

[200] Bossuet, _Histoire universelle_.

[201] _Des Castes et de la Transmission héréditaire des Professions dans l'ancienne Egypte_: a memoir published in the _Journal général de l'Instruction publique_, and in Vol. X. of the _Revue Archéologique_. Ampère proves by this learned _étude_ that "there were no _castes_ among the ancient Egyptians in the strict sense of that word, as it is used in India, for example." He very satisfactorily explains how a slight inexactness in the histories of Herodotus and Diodorus respecting hereditary transmission in the class of priests and warriors, "sufficed to found on this inheritance of pursuits and the separation of classes in Egypt, a theory that ended by becoming completely erroneous." M. Egger, in speaking of hereditary professions, says: "It is known that every degree of the social scale in ancient Egypt rested on this foundation. It was for a long time believed, according to Herodotus and Diodorus, that the Egyptian castes were absolutely exclusive; but an interesting memoir by J. J. Ampère (1848) proves the contrary, and scientific discoveries daily confirm the truth of his observations." (_Bulletin de la Société d' Economie Sociale_, June, 1868.)

[202] Diodorus. With the exception of certain fabulous relations, easily recognized by their mythological character, we consider as perfectly credible the interesting details Diodorus has left concerning the manners, laws, and institutions of ancient Egypt. He had visited that country himself, and did not depend on the testimony of others. "We give," says he, "the facts we have carefully examined, which are preserved in the records of the Egyptian priesthood." After stating that he visited that country under Ptolemy, son of Lagus, during the 180th Olympiad, he adds: "During our travels in Egypt we had intercourse with many priests, and conversed with a great number of Ethiopian envoys. After carefully collecting all the information we could find on the subject, and examining the accounts of historians, we have only admitted into our narration facts generally received." Lib. iii.

[203] M. Troplong.

[204] Probably superintendents is meant.

[205] Champollion-Figeac.

[206] Diodorus.

[207] The ritual of the dead puts the following beautiful words into the mouth of the deceased, when he justifies himself before the tribunal of Osiris: "I have spoken ill neither of the king nor my own father."

[208] Diodorus.

[209] Decree of 196 B.C., found on the Rosetta Stone.

[210] Diodorus.

[211] It could also be explained as the effect of a reaction which often accompanies a change of dynasty. M. F. Lenormant regards this judgment of kings as a mere fable. "The king when dead," says he, "was as much of a god as when living." Doubtless, but the Cæsars were also during their lives raised to the rank of divinities, which did not prevent the Romans from killing several. We see no difficulty in admitting the explicit testimony of Diodorus, corroborated by the opinion of Champollion the Younger as well as his brother.

[212] Bossuet, _Histoire univ._, ii. 177. The Israelites probably borrowed this custom from the Egyptians.

MR. CARLYLE AND PÈRE BOUHOURS.

Crying injustice and endless heartburnings are caused in social life by the falsehoods which malicious or foolish people shelter under the familiar quotation rubric, "said he" or "said she." For these we may charitably and to some extent allow uncertainty of human memory to go in extenuation.

Rising above the circle of cackling gossip, we know that, out of a dozen witnesses solemnly adjured to testify as to words spoken in simultaneous hearing of all the twelve, it is rare to find any three of them agreeing as to the precise form of locution used, even where they accord as to meaning and signification of the phrase they report.

We pass from the spoken to the written word, and are struck with the fact that, even in literature and in history, the too common neglect of conscientious accuracy of citations, in accepting them at second hand or from a questionable source, is the fruitful cause of wrong judgment of events, false estimate of men, and uncharitableness without end.

If it is sought to hold a man responsible for opinions which he has deliberately written and printed, he is in justice to be held answerable solely by his own record, neither more nor less. No occasion is there here for conflicting testimony. If arraigned for those opinions, let the accusation run--_ipsissimis verbis_--with what he has written. Otherwise, flaw fatal will be found, and indictment sternly quashed. _Scripta manent_--his opinions are recorded, and no subsequent version may be heard from him to vary the obligation therein assumed. Neither, therefore, in justice, shall you admit adverse parol testimony in guise of unfriendly gloss or explanation to hold him responsible for more than he has advanced or assumed.

With swift instinct, we all mistrust reported verbal utterances made by a man whose prejudice or whose passion evidently colors his memory and stimulates his imagination. And, although the excuse of mistake or misunderstanding is not admissible where the repetition or citation of printed words is concerned, yet, when a writer is quoted in the spirit of ridicule, blame, or sarcasm, it should suffice to put the reader on inquiry. Before he adopts and thereby vouches for the attributed phrase, let him look well to it that the text is not tampered with, and that the passage, as given, be not modified--not to say changed--by omission or addition. A mere comma too much or too little, as we well know, may make sad havoc with a sentence, and turn truth into falsehood.

Old authors, and even some few careful writers down to the present day, show their appreciation of this responsibility in quotation by intrenching themselves behind an _apud_ in cases where, from any cause, they are unable to verify the correctness of the passage cited; thus throwing the burden of proof on the reporter named by them.

A remarkable instance of the neglect of some such precautions as are here mentioned may be found in a somewhat familiar citation made--and, we may add, made celebrated--by no less a literary authority than Mr. Carlyle.

It occurs in one of his most admirable productions, entitled _The State of German Literature_.

This essay, which originally appeared, in 1827, as an article in the _Edinburgh Review_, is rich in literary research and vigorous thought.

It is valuable not only for what it says concerning German literature, but concerning all literature, and is most generally enjoyed and best remembered by reason of its eloquent pillorying and remorseless flagellation of one Père Bouhours, who, as Mr. Carlyle informs us, propounded to himself the pregnant question: _Si un Allemand peut avoir de l'esprit?_ Indignantly the great Scotch essayist thus bursts out upon the unfortunate Frenchman: "Had the Père Bouhours bethought him of what country Kepler and Leibnitz were born, or who it was that gave to mankind the three great elements of modern civilization, gunpowder, printing, and the Protestant religion, it might have thrown light on his inquiry. Had he known the _Niebelungen-Lied_, and where _Reinecke-Fuchs_, and _Faust_, and the _Ship of Fools_, and four-fifths of all the popular mythology, humor, and romance to be found in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, took its rise; had he read a page or two of Ulrich Hutten, Opitz, Paul Flemming, Logan, or even Lobenstein and Hoffmanswaldau, all of whom had already lived and written even in his day; had the Père Bouhours taken this trouble, who knows but he might have found, with whatever amazement, that a German could actually have a little _esprit_, or, perhaps, even something better? No such trouble was requisite for the Père Bouhours. Motion _in vacuo_ is well known to be speedier and surer than through a resisting medium, especially to imponderable bodies; and so the light Jesuit, unimpeded by facts or principles of any kind, failed not to reach his conclusions; and, in a comfortable frame of mind, to decide negatively that a German could _not_ have any literary talent."

Now, if Père Bouhours really said what is here attributed to him, this fulmination, all obvious as it is, cannot be looked upon as unprovoked, and we may listen with sense of satisfied justice to the dreadful sentence pronounced upon him, which is substantially that, incarcerated in the immortal amber of this one untimely joke, the helpless Jesuit be doomed therein to live; "for the blessing of full oblivion is denied him, and so he hangs suspended to his own noose, over the dusky pool which he struggles toward, but for a great while will not reach." To these remarks Mr. Carlyle adds the very sensible reflection: "For surely the pleasure of despising, at all times and in itself a dangerous luxury, is much safer _after_ the toil of examining than before it."

This condemnation and sentence are based on a detached phrase separated from its contexts, and Mr. Carlyle fails to tell us in what connection or in what work was made the unfortunate speech for which the French writer is thus beaten with many stripes.

Might it not be that, read in its proper relation, his words signify something very different from the interpretation placed upon them as here severed? So true is this that what Père Bouhours really wrote has a very different signification. Investigation demonstrates this and more, and shows that Père Bouhours not only did not mean to express what is here attributed to him, but that he did not even use the words thus thrust upon him as his own.

Indeed, the ill-used Bouhours is introduced and dispatched so very summarily, that the reader of the Edinburgh essay scarcely obtains more than a glance of a literary criminal rapidly judged and sent to swift execution.

Let us see for a moment what manner of man this Bouhours appeared to the people of his day and generation. As then known, he was a writer of high reputation (_hors ligne_) and the author of several works, some of which are still read and republished. We find certain of his books on the shelves of our largest American libraries, and a few days since, in looking casually through a catalogue of publications made (1869) at the Armenian convent in Venice, an interesting spot well known to American travellers, we noted two editions of Bouhours's _Christian Meditations_, one in French and one in a Turkish translation.

Bouhours is also the author of a French translation of the entire New Testament, which is remarkable for its fidelity and its purity of diction.

It is the version adopted by Lallemant in his _Reflections on the New Testament_. He also wrote _Remarks and Doubts concerning the French Language_, and _Ingenious Thoughts of the Fathers_. His _Manière de bien Penser_ is held by the best critics to contain much that evinces acuteness and delicacy of discrimination. Bouhours was always quoted and referred to by his contemporaries with deference.

His _Life of St. Francis Xavier_ was found worthy of an English translation by no less a celebrity than the English poet Dryden; and La Harpe, who is openly unfriendly to Bouhours, says of him, "C'était un homme lettré qui savait l'Italien et l'Espagnol."

The passage incorrectly cited by Mr. Carlyle occurs in _Les Entretiens a'Ariste et d'Eugène_, a small duodecimo volume published in 1671.

These _Entretiens_ or conversations are supposed to be held by two gentlemen of literary taste, who discuss a variety of subjects pertaining to polite literature.

One of these topics is the French language, which is assumed to be the best of all modern languages, possessing, as it does, the secret of uniting conciseness with clearness, and purity with politeness. On this question of his native tongue, the patriotism of Père Bouhours hurries him into terms of excessive praise. The French language, in his opinion, combines every excellence. The Spanish he characterizes as a noisy torrent flooding its banks and overspreading the country; the Italian, as a gentle rivulet; the French, a majestic stream that never quits its level.

The Spanish, again, he compares to a proud beauty, bold in demeanor and splendid in attire; the Italian, to a painted coquette, ever ornamented for effect; the French, to a modest, agreeable lady, who, if apparently prudish, is neither uncivil nor repulsive. Then, he adds, our own pronunciation is the most natural and pleasing.

Patriotism of so warm a character as this, after elevating French language and literature so freely at the expense of the Spanish and Italian, would hardly be likely to rate the German very high.

Accordingly, in view of the great preponderance of heavy though learned disquisition over that branch of German literature which might be classed as polished and witty, Père Bouhours did really propose the question,

SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT ETRE BEL ESPRIT?

--a proposition very far from identical with that which is attributed to him by Mr. Carlyle, namely:

SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT AVOIR DE L'ESPRIT?

The variation simply being that Bouhours did not, as here alleged, decide negatively that a German could not have any literary talent, but queried if a German could be a wit.

Truly a distinction with a difference.

Hallam, seldom incorrect in such matters, presents the matter fairly in stating that the Père Bouhours "proposed the question whether a German can by the nature of things possess any wit."

The misrepresentation made is a serious one, and the citation as corrected deprives Mr. Carlyle's thunder of its noise, and extracts from his sarcasm all its sting.

We believe it was Thackeray who said that, notwithstanding his profound respect and deep veneration for the twelve apostles, they really were not the sort of persons he should care to invite to a festive dinner party.

Père Bouhours would doubtless, as readily as Mr. Carlyle, concede to Kepler and Leibnitz all the merit the most enthusiastic German could claim for these great men as shining lights of science, but would hardly credit them with the ability to write the _Xenien_ or edit the _Kladderadatsch_.

When Bouhours published his _Entretiens_, it is very certain that, if German literature shone in wit, the fact was not known west of the Rhine. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle himself, a few paragraphs further on, unconsciously records the fullest vindication of Père Bouhours. With a patriotism quite as fervent as that of his victim, he informs us that "centuries ago translations from the German were comparatively frequent in England," but to support this statement can only cite _Luther's Table Talk_ and _Jacob Boehme_. Enumeration most scant and melancholy! The essayist then goes on to say: "In the next century, indeed, translation ceased; but then it was, in a great measure, _because there was little worth translating_. The horrors of the Thirty Years' War had desolated the country; French influence, extending from the courts of princes to the closets of the learned, lay like a baleful incubus over the far nobler ruins of Germany; and all free nationality vanished from its literature, or was heard only in faint tones, which lived in the hearts of the people, _but could not reach with any effect to the ears of foreigners_."

But as though not satisfied with a general statement which should justify Père Bouhours, Mr. Carlyle continues until he makes the justification clear in terms and specific by dates, telling us: "From the time of Opitz and Flemming to that of Klopstock and Lessing, that is, from the early part of the seventeenth to the middle of the eighteenth century, they [the Germans] had scarcely any literature known abroad, _or deserving to be known_."

Now, Dominic Bouhours, born in Paris, 1628, asked the famous question, _Si un Allemand peut être bel esprit?_ in 1671, and died in 1702. Thus his earthly career was comprised precisely within the period specified by Mr. Carlyle as that during which the Germans were without not only _belles-lettres_, but any literature whatever deserving to be known.

But, going back to the middle ages, Mr. Carlyle, strangely enough holds Bouhours responsible, because of his want of familiarity with the _Niebelungen-Lied_, _Reinecke-Fuchs_, and other monuments of early German literature. "Had he known the _Niebelungen-Lied_" is asked mockingly. This is hardly just, when we reflect that no one better than Mr. Carlyle knows that Germany of the Bouhours period was itself, in the main, ignorant of and profoundly indifferent to the merits of these remarkable productions. Only long years afterward, following on ages of oblivion as to their very existence in their own country, were they brought to light, and it is principally owing to the exertions of the comparatively new Romantic school that modern Germany has been made acquainted with the _Niebelungen-Lied_ and other great middle-age poems.

It is true that Bodmer in Switzerland first put a portion of the _Niebelungen_ ("Chrimhilde's Revenge") in print, in 1757; but, as Mr. Carlyle has elsewhere informed us, it was August Wilhelm Schlegel who "succeeded in awakening something like a universal popular feeling on the subject," and he refers to this and the like poems as "manuscripts that for ages have lain dormant," and now come "from their archives into public view," "a phenomenon unexpected till of late"--stating that "the _Niebelungen_ is welcomed as a precious national possession--_recovered after six centuries of neglect_." From which it would appear that, at his peril, Bouhours, in 1671, must be familiar with "a precious national possession" of the Germans, which they themselves, before and after that period, treated with "centuries of neglect." Being a Jesuit, it is, of course, eminently proper, according to a time-honored custom in English literature, that he should be made responsible for everything--the Spanish Inquisition and Original Sin included.

Mr. Carlyle patriotically closes his eyes to English ignorance and indifference touching German literature, even when claiming for Great Britain only a lesser density of ignorance concerning it than afflicted France.

Writing as late as 1827, he fairly admits that the literature and character of Germany "are still very generally unknown to us, or, what is worse, misknown," that its "false and tawdry ware" reached England before "the chaste and truly excellent," and that "Kotzebue's insanity spread faster by some fifty years than Lessing's wisdom." And the British ignorance, it is admitted, is not confined to German literature. "For what more do we know"--thus Mr. Carlyle clinches the question--"of recent Spanish or Italian literature than of German; of Grossi and Manzoni, of Campomanos or Jovellanos, than of Tieck and Richter?"

Really, when we contemplate the enlightened Englishman of 1827 thus held up to our gaze, how can we withhold from the abused Frenchman of 1671 our profound admiration?

Now, if, on reflection, Mr. Carlyle estimates the imputation on German literature of a lack of wit and humor as a serious offence--if he considers actionable and punishable Father Bouhours's query,

SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT ETRE BEL ESPRIT?

he need not go back two centuries for a criminal of whom to make an example. We have in custody for him one of this century--of this decade--nay, of this very year. He is a living culprit, and, moreover, a distinguished one. Here is a copy of the words in which he offends, and, if we are not mistaken, he may be found in Mr. Carlyle's bailiwick: "There is, perhaps, no nation where the general standard of wit and humor is so low as with the Germans--no other people at least are so easily entertained with indifferent jokes" (_Saturday Review_, London, March 18, 1871).

OUR LADY OF LOURDES.

FROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.