Chapter VI: Part 6

The peace and even favour which the Christians enjoyed, during the first four years of the reign of Valerian, had removed from them all fear of a renewal of those horrors, which they had experienced under the rule of his predecessor, Decius. Of late, however, some less friendly dispositions had manifested themselves. The bigots of the court, taking alarm at the spread of the new faith, had succeeded in filling the mind of the monarch with that religious jealousy, which is the ever‐ready parent of cruelty and injustice. Among these counsellors of evil was Macrianus, the Prætorian Prefect, who was, by birth, an Egyptian, and—so akin is superstition to intolerance—had long made himself notorious by his addiction to the dark practices of demon‐worship and magic.

From this minister, who was now high in the favour of Valerian, the expected measures of severity against the Christians, it was supposed, would emanate. All tongues, in all quarters, were busy with the news. In the streets, in the public gardens, on the steps of the temples, I saw, every where, groups of enquirers collected, and heard the name of Macrianus upon every tongue. It was dreadful, too, to observe, in the countenances of those who spoke, the variety of feeling with which the rumour was discussed, according as they desired or dreaded its truth,—according as they were likely to be among the torturers or the victims.

Alarmed, though still ignorant of the whole extent of the danger, I hurried back to the ravine, and, going at once to the grotto of Melanius, detailed to him every particular of the intelligence I had collected. He heard me with a composure, which I mistook, alas, for confidence in his security; and, naming the hour for our evening walk, retired into his grotto.

At the accustomed time Alethe and he were at my cave. It was evident that he had not communicated to her the intelligence which I had brought, for never did brow wear such a happiness as that which now played round hers;—it was, alas, _not_ of this earth! Melanius, himself, though composed, was thoughtful; and the solemnity, almost approaching to melancholy, with which he placed the hand of Alethe in mine—in the performance, too, of a ceremony that _ought_ to have filled my heart with joy—saddened and alarmed me. This ceremony was our betrothment,—the plighting of our faith to each other,—which we now solemnized on the rock before the door of my cave, in the face of that sunset heaven, with its one star standing as witness. After a blessing from the Hermit on our spousal pledge, I placed the ring,—the earnest of our future union—on her finger, and, in the blush, with which she surrendered her whole heart to me at that instant, forgot every thing but my happiness, and felt secure, even against fate!

We took our accustomed walk over the rocks and on the desert. The moon was so bright,—like the daylight, indeed, of other climes—that we could see plainly the tracks of the wild antelopes in the sand; and it was not without a slight tremble of feeling in his voice, as if some melancholy analogy occurred to him as he spoke, that the good Hermit said, “I have observed in my walks, that where‐ever the track of that gentle animal is seen, there is, almost always, the foot‐print of a beast of prey near it.” He regained, however, his usual cheerfulness before we parted, and fixed the following evening for an excursion, on the other side of the ravine, to a point, looking, he said, “towards that northern region of the desert, where the hosts of the Lord encamped in their departure out of bondage.”

Though, in the presence of Alethe, my fears, even for herself, were forgotten in that perpetual element of happiness, which encircled her like the air that she breathed, no sooner was I alone than vague terrors and bodings crowded upon me. In vain did I try to reason myself out of my fears by dwelling on the most cheering circumstances,—the reverence with which Melanius was regarded, even by the Pagans, and the inviolate security with which he had lived through the most perilous periods, not only safe himself, but affording sanctuary in his grottos to others. When, somewhat calmed by these considerations, I sunk off to sleep, dark, horrible dreams took possession of my mind. Scenes of death and of torment passed confusedly before me, and, when I awoke, it was with the fearful impression that all these horrors were real.

CHAP. XIX.

At length, the day dawned,—that dreadful day. Impatient to be relieved from my suspense, I threw myself into my boat,—the same in which we had performed our happy voyage,—and, as fast as oars could speed me, hurried away to the city. I found the suburbs silent and solitary, but, as I approached the Forum, loud yells, like those of barbarians in combat, struck on my ear, and, when I entered it,—great God, what a spectacle presented itself! The imperial edict against the Christians had arrived during the night, and already the wild fury of bigotry was let loose.

Under a canopy, in the middle of the Forum, was the tribunal of the Governor. Two statues, one of Apollo, the other of Osiris, stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to his judgment‐seat. Before these idols were shrines, to which the devoted Christians were dragged from all quarters by the soldiers and mob, and there compelled to recant, by throwing incense into the flame, or, on their refusal, hurried away to torture and death. It was an appalling scene;—the consternation, the cries of some of the victims,—the pale, silent resolution of others;—the fierce shouts of laughter that broke from the multitude, when the frankincense, dropped on the altar, proclaimed some denier of Christ; and the fiend‐like triumph with which the courageous Confessors, who avowed their faith, were led away to the flames;—never could I have conceived such an assemblage of horrors!

Though I gazed but for a few minutes, in those minutes I felt enough for years. Already did the form of Alethe flit before me through that tumult;—I heard them shout her name;—her shriek fell on my ear; and the very thought so palsied me with terror, that I stood fixed and statue‐like on the spot.

Recollecting, however, the fearful preciousness of every moment, and that—perhaps, at this very instant—some emissaries of blood might be on their way to the grottos, I rushed wildly out of the Forum, and made my way to the quay.

The streets were now crowded; but I ran headlong through the multitude, and was already under the portico leading down to the river,—already saw the boat that was to bear me to Alethe,—when a Centurion stood sternly in my path, and I was surrounded and arrested by soldiers! It was in vain that I implored, that I struggled with them as for life, assuring them that I was a stranger,—that I was an Athenian,—that I was—_not_ a Christian. The precipitation of my flight was sufficient evidence against me, and unrelentingly, and by force, they bore me away to the quarters of their Chief.

It was enough to drive me to madness! Two hours, two frightful hours, was I kept waiting the arrival of the Tribune of their Legion(9),—my brain burning with a thousand fears and imaginations, which every passing minute made more likely to be realised. Every thing, too, that I could collect from the conversations around me but added to the agonising apprehensions with which I was racked. Troops, it was said, had been sent in all directions through the neighbourhood, to bring in the rebellious Christians, and make them bow before the Gods of the Empire. With horror, too, I heard of Orcus,—Orcus, the High Priest of Memphis,—as one of the principal instigators of this sanguinary edict, and as here present in Antinoë, animating and directing its execution.

In this state of torture I remained till the arrival of the Tribune. Absorbed in my own thoughts, I had not perceived his entrance;—till, hearing a voice, in a tone of friendly surprise, exclaim, “Alciphron!” I looked up, and in this legionary Chief recognised a young Roman of rank, who had held a military command, the year before, at Athens, and was one of the most distinguished visitors of the Garden. It was no time, however, for courtesies;—he was proceeding with cordiality to greet me, but, having heard him order my instant release, I could wait for no more. Acknowledging his kindness but by a grasp of the hand, I flew off, like one frantic, through the streets, and, in a few minutes, was on the river.

My sole hope had been to reach the grottos before any of the detached parties should arrive, and, by a timely flight across the desert, rescue, at least, Alethe from their fury. The ill‐fated delay that had occurred rendered this hope almost desperate; but the tranquillity I found every where as I proceeded down the river, and the fond confidence I still cherished in the sacredness of the Hermit’s retreat, kept my heart from giving way altogether under its terrors.

Between the current and my oars, the boat flew, like wind, along the waters; and I was already near the rocks of the ravine, when I saw, turning out of the canal into the river, a barge crowded with people, and glittering with arms! How did I ever survive the shock of that sight? The oars dropped, as if struck out of my hands, into the water, and I sat, helplessly gazing, as that terrific vision approached. In a few minutes, the current brought us together;—and I saw, on the deck of the barge, Alethe and the Hermit surrounded by soldiers!

We were already passing each other when, with a desperate effort, I sprang from my boat and lighted upon the edge of their vessel. I knew not what I did, for despair was my only prompter. Snatching at the sword of one of the soldiers, as I stood tottering on the edge, I had succeeded in wresting it out of his hands, when, at the same moment, I received a thrust of a lance from one of his comrades, and fell backward into the river. I can just remember rising again and making a grasp at the side of the vessel;—but the shock, the faintness from my wound, deprived me of all consciousness, and a shriek from Alethe, as I sunk, is all I can recollect of what followed.

Would I had then died!—Yet, no, Almighty Being,—I should have died in darkness, and I have lived to know Thee!

On returning to my senses, I found myself reclined on a couch, in a splendid apartment, the whole appearance of which being Grecian, I, for a moment, forgot all that had passed, and imagined myself in my own home at Athens. But too soon the whole dreadful certainty flashed upon me; and, starting wildly—disabled as I was—from my couch, I called loudly, and with the shriek of a maniac, on Alethe.

I was in the house, I found, of my friend and disciple, the young Tribune, who had made the Governor acquainted with my name and condition, and had received me under his roof, when brought, bleeding and insensible, to Antinoë. From him I now learned at once,—for I could not wait for details,—the sum of all that had happened in that dreadful interval. Melanius was no more,—Alethe, still alive, but in prison!

“Take me to her”—I had but time to say—“take me to her instantly, and let me die by her side,”—when, nature again failing under such shocks, I relapsed into insensibility. In this state I continued for near an hour, and, on recovering, found the Tribune by my side. The horrors, he said, of the Forum were, for that day, over,—but what the morrow might bring, he shuddered to contemplate. His nature, it was plain, revolted from the inhuman duties in which he was engaged. Touched by the agonies he saw me suffer, he, in some degree, relieved them, by promising that I should, at night‐fall, be conveyed to the prison, and, if possible, through his influence, gain access to Alethe. She might yet, he added, be saved, could I succeed in persuading her to comply with the terms of the edict, and make sacrifice to the Gods.—“Otherwise,” said he, “there is no hope;—the vindictive Orcus, who has resisted even this short respite of mercy, will, to‐morrow, inexorably demand his prey.”

He then related to me, at my own request,—though every word was torture,—all the harrowing details of the proceeding before the Tribunal. “I have seen courage,” said he, “in its noblest forms, in the field; but the calm intrepidity with which that aged Hermit endured torments—which it was hardly less torment to witness—surpassed all that I could have conceived of human fortitude!”

My poor Alethe, too,—in describing to me her conduct, the brave man wept like a child. Overwhelmed, he said, at first by her apprehensions for my safety, she had given way to a full burst of womanly weakness. But no sooner was she brought before the Tribunal, and the declaration of her faith was demanded of her, than a spirit almost supernatural seemed to animate her whole form. “She raised her eyes,” said he, “calmly, but with fervour, to heaven, while a blush was the only sign of mortal feeling on her features;—and the clear, sweet, and untrembling voice, with which she pronounced her dooming words, ‘I am a Christian!’ sent a thrill of admiration and pity throughout the multitude. Her youth, her loveliness, affected all hearts, and a cry of ‘Save the young maiden!’ was heard in all directions.”

The implacable Orcus, however, would not hear of mercy. Resenting, as it appeared, with all his deadliest rancour, not only her own escape from his toils, but the aid with which, so fatally to his views, she had assisted mine, he demanded loudly, and in the name of the insulted sanctuary of Isis, her instant death. It was but by the firm intervention of the Governor, who shared the general sympathy in her fate, that the delay of another day was accorded, to give a chance to the young maiden of yet recalling her confession, and thus affording some pretext for saving her.

Even in yielding reluctantly to this brief respite, the inhuman Priest would accompany it with some mark of his vengeance. Whether for the pleasure (observed the Tribune) of mingling mockery with his cruelty, or as a warning to her of the doom she must ultimately expect, he gave orders that there should be tied round her brow one of those chaplets of coral(10), with which it is the custom of young Christian maidens to array themselves on the day of their martyrdom;—“and, thus fearfully adorned,” said he, “she was led away, amid the gaze of the pitying multitude, to prison.”

With these details the short interval till night‐fall,—every minute of which seemed an age,—was occupied. As soon as it grew dark, I was placed upon a litter,—my wound, though not dangerous, requiring such a conveyance,—and conducted, under the guidance of my friend, to the prison. Through his interest with the guard, we were without difficulty admitted, and I was borne into the chamber where the maiden lay immured. Even the veteran guardian of the place seemed touched with compassion for his prisoner, and supposing her to be asleep, had the litter placed gently near her.

She was half reclining, with her face hid in her hands, upon a couch,—at the foot of which stood an idol, over whose hideous features a lamp of naptha, hanging from the ceiling, shed a wild and ghastly glare. On a table before the image stood a censer, with a small vessel of incense beside it,—one grain of which, thrown voluntarily into the flame, would, even now, save that precious life. So strange, so fearful was the whole scene, that I almost doubted its reality. Alethe! my own, happy Alethe! _can_ it, I thought, be thou that I look upon?

She now, slowly and with difficulty, raised her head from the couch; on observing which, the kind Tribune withdrew, and we were left alone. There was a paleness, as of death, over her features; and those eyes, which when last I saw them, were but too bright, too happy for this world, looked dim and sunken. In raising herself up, she put her hand, as if from pain, to her forehead, whose marble hue but appeared more death‐like from those red bands that lay so awfully across it.

After wandering vaguely for a minute, her eyes rested upon me,—and, with a shriek, half terror, half joy, she sprung from the couch, and sunk upon her knees by my side. She had believed me dead; and, even now, scarcely trusted her senses. “My husband! my love!” she exclaimed; “oh, if thou comest to call me from this world, behold I am ready!” In saying thus, she pointed wildly to that ominous wreath, and then dropped her head down upon my knee, as if an arrow had pierced it.

“Alethe!”—I cried, terrified to the very soul by that mysterious pang,—and the sound of my voice seemed to reanimate her;—she looked up, with a faint smile, in my face. Her thoughts, which had evidently been wandering, became collected; and in her joy at my safety, her sorrow at my suffering, she forgot wholly the fate that impended over herself. Love, innocent love, alone occupied all her thoughts; and the tenderness with which she spoke,—oh, at any other moment, how I would have listened, have lingered upon, have blessed every word!

But the time flew fast—the dreadful morrow was approaching. Already I saw her writhing in the hands of the torturer,—the flames, the racks, the wheels were before my eyes! Half frantic with the fear that her resolution was fixed, I flung myself from the litter, in an agony of weeping, and supplicated her, by the love she bore me, by the happiness that awaited us, by her own merciful God, who was too good to require such a sacrifice,—by all that the most passionate anxiety could dictate, I implored that she would avert from us the doom that was coming, and—but for once—comply with the vain ceremony demanded of her.

Shrinking from me, as I spoke,—but with a look more of sorrow than reproach,—“What, thou, too!” she said mournfully,—“thou, into whose spirit I had fondly hoped the same heavenly truth had descended as into my own! Oh, be not thou leagued with those who would tempt me to ‘make shipwreck of my faith!’ Thou, who couldst alone bind me to life, use not thy power; but let me die, as He I serve hath commanded,—die for the Truth. Remember the holy lessons we heard on those nights, those happy nights, when both the Present and Future smiled upon us,—when even the gift of eternal life came more welcome to my soul, from the blessed conviction that thou wert to be a sharer in it;—shall I forfeit now that divine privilege? shall I deny the true God, whom we then learned to love?

“No, my own betrothed,” she continued,—pointing to the two rings on her finger,—“behold these pledges,—they are both sacred. I should have been as true to thee as I am now to heaven,—nor in that life to which I am hastening shall our love be forgotten. Should the baptism of fire, through which I shall pass to‐morrow, make me worthy to be heard before the Throne of Grace, I will intercede for thy soul—I will pray that it may yet share with mine that ‘inheritance, immortal and undefiled,’ which Mercy offers, and that thou,—my dear mother,—and I—”

She here dropped her voice; the momentary animation, with which devotion and affection had inspired her, vanished;—and a darkness overspread all her features, a livid darkness,—like the coming of death—that made me shudder through every limb. Seizing my hand convulsively, and looking at me with a fearful eagerness, as if anxious to hear some consoling assurance from my own lips,—“Believe me,” she continued, “not all the torments they are preparing for me,—not even this deep, burning pain in my brow, which they will hardly equal,—could be half so dreadful to me, as the thought that I leave thee—”

Here, her voice again failed; her head sunk upon my arm, and—merciful God, let me forget what I then felt,—I saw that she was dying! Whether I uttered any cry, I know not;—but the Tribune came rushing into the chamber, and, looking on the maiden, said, with a face full of horror, “It is but too true!”

He then told me in a low voice, what he had just learned from the guardian of the prison, that the band round the young Christian’s brow was—oh horrible cruelty!—a compound of the most deadly poison,—the hellish invention of Orcus, to satiate his vengeance, and make the fate of his poor victim secure. My first movement was to untie that fatal wreath,—but it would not come away—it would not come away!

Roused by the pain, she again looked in my face; but, unable to speak, took hastily from her bosom the small silver cross which she had brought with her from my cave. Having prest it to her own lips, she held it anxiously to mine, and seeing me kiss the holy symbol with fervour, looked happy, and smiled. The agony of death seemed to have passed away;—there came suddenly over her features a heavenly light, some share of which I felt descending into my own soul, and, in a few minutes more, she expired in my arms.

‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐

_Here ends the Manuscript; but, on the outer cover there is, in the hand‐ writing of a much later period, the following Notice, extracted, as it appears, from some Egyptian martyrology:—_

“Alciphron,—an Epicurean philosopher, converted to Christianity A. D. 257, by a young Egyptian maiden, who suffered martyrdom in that year. Immediately upon her death he betook himself to the desert, and lived a life, it is said, of much holiness and penitence. During the persecution under Dioclesian, his sufferings for the faith were most exemplary; and, being at length, at an advanced age, condemned to hard labour, for refusing to comply with an Imperial edict, he died at the brass mines of Palestine, A. D. 297.—

“As Alciphron held the opinions maintained since by Arius, his memory has not been spared by Athanasian writers, who, among other charges, accuse him of having been addicted to the superstitions of Egypt. For this calumny, however, there appears to be no better foundation than a circumstance, recorded by one of his brother monks, that there was found, after his death, a small metal mirror, like those used in the ceremonies of Isis, suspended round his neck.”

NOTES.

Page 17.—For the importance attached to dreams by the ancients, see _Jortin_, Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. 1. p. 90.

Page 22.—“_The Pillar of Pillars_”—more properly, perhaps, “the column of the pillars.” v. _Abdallatif_, Relation de l’Egypte, and the notes of _M. de Sacy_. The great portico round this column (formerly designated Pompey’s, but now known to have been erected in honour of Dioclesian) was still standing, M. de Sacy says, in the time of Saladin. v. _Lord Valentia’s Travels_.

Page 23.—Ammianus thus speaks of the state of Alexandria in his time, which was, I believe, as late as the end of the fourth century:—“Ne nunc quidem in eadem urbe Doctrinæ variæ silent, non apud nos exaruit Musica nec Harmonia conticuit.” Lib. 22.

Page 25.—From the character of the features of the Sphinx, and a passage in Herodotus, describing the Egyptians as _μελαγχροες και ουλοτρικες_, Volney, Bruce, and a few others, have concluded that the ancient inhabitants of Egypt were negroes. But this opinion is contradicted by a host of authorities. See _Castera_’s notes upon _Browne’s Travels_, for the result of Blumenbach’s dissection of a variety of mummies. Denon, speaking of the character of the heads represented in the ancient sculpture and painting of Egypt, says, “Celle des femmes ressemble encore à la figure des jolies femmes d’aujourd’hui: de la rondeur, de la volupté, le nez petit, les yeux longs, peu ouverts,” &c. &c. He could judge, too, he says, from the female mummies, “que leurs cheveux étoient longs et lisses, que le caractère de tête de la plupart tenoit du beau style”—“Je raportai,” he adds, “une tête de vieille femme qui étoit aussi belle que celles de Michel Ange, et leur ressembloit beaucoup.”

In a “_Description générale de Thèbes_” by _Messrs. Jollois et Desvilliers_, they say, “Toutes les sculptures Egyptiennes, depuis les plus grands colosses de Thèbes jusqu’aux plus petites idoles, ne rappellent en aucune manière les traits de la figure des nègres; outre que les têtes des momies des catacombs de Thèbes presentent des profils droits.” See also _M. Jomard_’s “Description of Syene and the Cataracts,” _Baron Larrey_, on the “conformation physique” of the Egyptians, &c.

De Pauw, the great depreciator of every thing Egyptian, has, on the authority of a passage in Ælian, presumed to affix to the countrywomen of Cleopatra the stigma of complete and unredeemed ugliness. The following line of Euripides, however, is an answer to such charges:—

_Νειλου μεν αἱδε καλλιπαρθενοι ροαι._

In addition to the celebrated instances of Cleopatra, Rhodope, &c. we are told, on the authority of Manetho (as given by Zoega from Georgius Syncellus), of a beautiful queen of Memphis, Nitocris, of the sixth dynasty, who, in addition to other charms and perfections, was (rather inconsistently with the negro hypothesis) _ξανθη την χροιαν_.

See, for a tribute to the beauty of the Egyptian women, Montesquieu’s Temple de Gnide.

Page 35.—“_Among beds of lotus flowers._”—v. _Strabo_.

Page 36.—“_Isle of the golden Venus._”—“On trouve une île appelée Venus‐ Dorée, ou le champ d’or, avant de remonter jusqu’à Memphis.” _Voyages de Pythagore._

Page 39.—For an account of the Table of Emerald, v. _Lettres sur l’Origine des Dieux d’Egypte_. _De Pauw_ supposes it to be a modern fiction of the Arabs. Many writers have fancied that the art of making gold was the great secret that lay hid under the forms of Egyptian theology. “La science Hermétique,” says the Benedictine, Pernetz, “l’art sacerdotal étoit la source de toutes les richesses des Rois d’Egypte, et l’objet de ces mystères si cachés sous le voile du leur pretendu Religion.” _Fables Egyptiennes._ The hieroglyphs, that formerly covered the Pyramids, are supposed by some of these writers to relate to the same art. See _Mutus liber, Rupellæ_.

Page 40.—“By reflecting the sun’s rays,” says _Clarke_, speaking of the Pyramids, “they appeared white as snow.”

Page 41.—For Bubastis, the Diana of the Egyptians, v. _Jablonski_, lib. 3. c. 4.

Page 43.—“_The light coracle_,” _&c._—v. _Amuilhon_, “_Histoire de la Navigation et du Commerce des Egyptiens sous les Ptolemées_.” See also, for a description of the various kinds of boats used on the Nile, _Maillet_, tom. i. p. 98.

Page 44.—v. _Maurice_, Appendix to “Ruins of Babylon.” Another reason, he says, for their worship of the Ibis, “founded on their love of geometry, was (according to Plutarch) that the space between its legs, when parted asunder, as it walks, together with its beak, forms a complete equilateral triangle.” From the examination of the embalmed birds, found in the Catacombs of Saccara, there seems to be no doubt that the Ibis was the same kind of bird as that described by Bruce, under the Arabian name of Abou Hannes.

Ib.—“_The sistrum_,” _&c._—“Isis est genius,” says _Servius_, “Ægypti, qui per sistri motum, quod gerit in dextra, Nili accessus recessusque significat.”

Page 48.—“_The ivy encircled it_,” _&c._—The ivy was consecrated to Osiris. v. _Diodor. Sic._ 1. 10.

Ib.—“_The small mirror._”—“Quelques unes,” says _Dupuis_, describing the processions of Isis, “portoient des miroirs attachés à leurs épaules, afin de multiplier et de porter dans tous les sens les images de la Déesse.” _Origine des Cultes_, tom. 8. p. 847. A mirror, it appears, was also one of the emblems in the mysteries of Bacchus.

Page 49.—“_There__ is, to the north of Memphis_,” _&c._—“Tout prouve que la territoire de Sakkarah étoit la Necropolis au sud de Memphis, et le faubourg opposé à celui‐ci, où sont les pyramides de Gizeh, une autre Ville des Morts, qui terminoit Memphis au nord.” _Denon._

There is nothing known with certainty as to the site of Memphis, but it will be perceived that the description of its position given by the Epicurean corresponds, in almost every particular, with that which M. Maillet (the French consul, for many years, at Cairo) has left us. It must be always borne in mind, too, that of the distances between the respective places here mentioned, we have no longer any accurate means of judging.

Page 49.—“_Pyramid beyond pyramid._”—“Multas olim pyramidas fuisse e ruinis arguitur.” _Zoega._—_Vansleb_, who visited more than ten of the small pyramids, is of opinion that there must have originally been a hundred in this place.

See, for the lake to the northward of Memphis, _Shaw’s Travels_, p. 302.

Page 57.—“_The Theban beetle._”—“On voit en Egypte, après la retraite du Nil et la fécondation des terres, le limon couvert d’une multitude de scarabées. Un pareil phénomène a dû sembler aux Egyptiens le plus propre à peindre une nouvelle existence.” _M. Jomard._—Partly for the same reason, and partly for another, still more fanciful, the early Christians used to apply this emblem to Christ. “Bonus ille scarabæus meus,” says St. Augustine “non eâ tantum de causâ quod unigenitus, quod ipsemet sui auctor mortalium speciem induerit, sed quod in hac nostrâ fæce sese volutaverit et ex hac ipsa nasci voluerit.”

Ib.—“_Enshrined within a case of crystal._”—“Les Egyptiens ont fait aussi, pour conserver leurs morts, des caisses de verre.” _De Pauw._—He mentions, in another place, a sort of transparent substance, which the Ethiopians used for the same purpose, and which was frequently mistaken by the Greeks for glass.

Page 58.—“_Among the emblems of death._”—“Un prêtre, qui brise la tige d’une fleur, des oiseaux qui s’envolent sont les emblemes de la morte et de l’âme qui se sépare du corps.” _Denon._

Theseus employs the same image in the Phædra:—

_Ορνις γαρ ὡς τις εκ χερων αφαντος ει_
_Πηδημ’ ες ἁδου πικρον ὁρμησασα μοι._

Page 59.—“The singular appearance of a Cross so frequently recurring among the hieroglyphics of Egypt, had excited the curiosity of the Christians at a very early period of ecclesiastical history; and as some of the Priests, who were acquainted with the meaning of the hieroglyphics, became converted to Christianity the secret transpired. ‘The converted heathens,’ says Socrates Scholasticus, ‘explained the symbol, and declared that it signified Life to Come.’” _Clarke._

Lipsius, therefore, erroneously supposes the Cross to have been an emblem peculiar to the Christians. See, on this subject, _L’Histoire des Juifs_, liv. 9. c. 16.

It is singular enough that while the Cross was held sacred among the Egyptians, not only the custom of marking the forehead with the sign of the Cross, but Baptism and the consecration of the bread in the Eucharist were imitated in the mysterious ceremonies of Mithra. _Tertull. de Proscriptione Hereticorum._

Zoega is of opinion that the Cross found (for the first time, it is said) on the destruction of the temple of Serapis, by the Christians, could have not been the crux ansata; as nothing is more common than this emblem on all the Egyptian monuments.

Page 62.—“_Stood shadowless._”—It was an idea entertained among the ancients that the Pyramids were so constructed (“mecanicâ constructione,” says _Ammianus Marcellinus_) as never to cast any shadow.

Page 64.—“_Rhodope._”—From the story of Rhodope, Zoega thinks, “videntur Arabes ansam arripuisse ut in una ex pyramidibus, genii loco, habitare dicerent mulierem nudam insignis pulchritudinis quæ aspectu suo homines insanire faciat.” _De Usu Obeliscorum._ See also _L’Egypte de Murtadi par Vattier_.

Page 66.—“_The Gates of Oblivion._”—“Apud Memphim æneas quasdam portas, quæ Lethes et Cocyti (hoc est oblivionis et lamentationis) appellenter aperiri, gravem asperumque edentes sonum.” _Zoega._

Page 69.—“_A pile of lifeless bodies._”—See, for the custom of burying the dead upright (“post funus stantia busto corpora,” as Statius describes it), Dr. Clarke’s preface to the 2d section of his fifth volume. They used to insert precious stones in the place of the eyes. “Les yeux étoient formés d’émeraudes, de turquoises,” &c.—v. _Masoudy_, quoted by _Quatremere_.

Page 72.—“_It seemed as if every echo._”—See, for the echoes in the pyramids, _Plutarch, de Placitis Philosoph._

Page 74.—“_Pale phantom‐like shapes._”—“Ce moment heureux (de l’Autopsie) étoit preparé par des scènes effrayantes, par des alternatives de crainte et de joie, de lumière et des ténèbres, par la lueur des éclairs, par le bruit terrible de la foudre, qu’on imitoit, et par des apparitions de spectres, des illusions magiques, qui frappoient les yeux et les oreilles tout ensemble.” _Dupuis._

Page 77.—“_Serpents of fire._”—“Ces considérations me portent à penser que, dans les mystères, ces phénomènes étoient beaucoup mieux exécutées et sans comparison plus terribles à l’aide de quelque composition pyrique, qui est restée cachée, comme celle du feu Grégeois.” _De Pauw._

Page 78.—“_The burning of the reed‐beds of Ethiopia._”—“Il n’y a point d’autre moyen que de porter le feu dans ces forêts de roseaux, qui répandent alors dans tout le païs une lumière aussi considérable que celle du jour même.” _Maillet_, tom. 1. p. 63.

Page 79.—“_The sound of torrents._”—The Nile, _Pliny_ tells us, was admitted into the Pyramid.

Page 81.—“_I had almost given myself up._”—“On exerçoit,” says _Dupuis_, “les recipiendaires, pendant plusieurs jours, à traverser, à la nage, une grande étendue d’eau. On les y jettoit et ce n’étoit que avec peine qu’ ils s’en retiroient. On appliquoit le fer et le feu sur leurs membres. On les faisoit passer à travers les flammes.”

The aspirants were often in considerable danger, and Pythagoras, we are told, nearly lost his life in the trials. v. _Recherches sur les Initiations, par Robin_.

Page 90.—For the two cups used in the mysteries, see _L’Histoire des Juifs_, liv. 9. c. 16.

Ib.—“_Osiris._”—Osiris, under the name of Serapis, was supposed to rule over the subterranean world; and performed the office of Pluto, in the mythology of the Egyptians. “They believed,” says Dr. Pritchard, “that Serapis presided over the region of departed souls, during the period of their absence, when languishing without bodies, and that the dead were deposited in his palace.” _Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology._

Ib.—“_To cool the lips of the dead._”—“Frigidam illam aquam post mortem, tanquam Hebes poculum, expetitam.” _Zoega._—The Lethe of the Egyptians was called Ameles. See _Dupuis_, tom. 8. p. 651.

Page 90.—“_A draught divine._”—_Diodor. Sicul._

Page 93.—“_Grasshopper, symbol of initiation._”—_Hor. Apoll._—The grasshopper was also consecrated to the sun as being musical.

Page 94.—“_Isle of gardens._”—The isle Antirrhodus near Alexandria. _Maillet._

Ib.—“_Vineyard at Anthylla._”—See _Athen. Deipnos._

Page 97.—“_We can see those stars._”—“On voyoit en plein jour par ces ouvertures les étoiles, et même quelques planètes en leur plus grande latitude septentrionale; et les prêtres avoient bientôt profité de ce phénomène pour observer à diverses heures la passage des étoiles.” _Séthos._—_Strabo_ mentions certain caves or pits, constructed for the purpose of astronomical observations, which lay in the Zelopolitan prefecture, beyond Heliopolis.

Page 98.—“_A plantain._”—This tree was dedicated to the Genii of the Shades, from its being an emblem of repose and cooling airs. “Cui imminet musæ folium, quod ab Iside infera geniisque ei addictis manu geri solitum, umbram requiemque et auras frigidas subindigitare videtur.” _Zoega._

Page 107.—“_He spoke of the preexistence of the soul_,” _&c._—For a full account of the doctrines which are here represented as having been taught to the initiated in the Egyptian mysteries, the reader may consult _Dupuis_, _Pritchard’s Analysis of the Egyptian Mythology_, &c. &c. “L’on découvroit l’origine de l’ame, sa chute sur la terre, à travers les sphères et les élémens, et son retour au lieu de sa origine ... c’étoit ici la partie la plus métaphysique, et que ne pourroit guère entendre le commun des Initiés, mais dont on lui donnoit le spectacle par des figures et des spectres allégoriques.” _Dupuis._

Page 108.—“_Those fields of radiance._”—See _Beausobre_, liv. 3. c. 4. for the “terre bienheureuse et lumineuse” which the Manicheans supposed God to inhabit. Plato, too, speaks (in Phæd.) of a “pure land lying in the pure sky (_την γην καθαραν εν καθαρω κεισθαι ουρανω_), the abode of divinity, of innocence, and of life.”

Page 110.—“_Tracing it from the first moment of earthward desire._”—In the original construction of this work, there was an episode introduced here, (which I have since published in another form,) illustrating the doctrine of the fall of the soul by the Oriental fable of the Loves of the Angels.

Page 111.—“_Restoring her lost wings._”—_Damascius_ in his Life of Isidorus, says, “Ex antiquissimis Philosophis Pythagoram et Platonem Isidorus ut Deos coluit, et _eorum animas alatas esse_ dixit quas in locum supercœlestem inque campum veritatis et pratum elevatas, divinis putavit ideis pasci.” _Apud Phot. Bibliothec._

Page 112.—“_A pale, moonlike meteor._”—_Apuleius_, in describing the miraculous appearances exhibited in the mysteries, says, “Nocte mediâ vidi solem candido coruscantem lumine.” _Metamorphos._ lib. 11.

Page 113.—“_So entirely did the illusion of the scene_,” _&c._—In tracing the early connection of spectacles with the ceremonies of religion, Voltaire says, “Il y a bien plus; les véritables grandes tragédies, les representations imposantes et terribles, étoient les mystères sacrés, qu’on célébroit dans les plus vastes temples du monde, en présence des seuls Initiés; c’étoit là que les habits, les décorations, les machines étoient propres au sujet; et le sujet étoit la vie présente et la vie future.” _Des divers changemens arrivés à l’art tragique._

To these scenic representations in the Egyptian mysteries, there is evidently an allusion in the vision of Ezekiel, where the spirit shows him the abominations which the Israelites learned in Egypt:—“Then said he unto me, ‘Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel do in the dark, every man in _the chambers of his imagery_.’” Chap. 8.

Page 118.—“_The seven tables of stone._”—“Bernard, Comte de la Marche Trévisane, instruit par la lecture des livres anciens, dit qu’ Hermes trouva sept tables dans la vallée d’Hebron, sur lesquelles étoient gravés les principes des arts liberaux.” _Fables Egyptiennes._ See _Jablonski de stelis Herm._

Page 119.—“_Beside the goat of Mendes._”—For an account of the animal worship of the Egyptians, see _De Pauw_, tom. 2.

Ib.—“_The Isiac serpents._”—“On auguroit bien des serpens Isiaques, lorsqu’ils goutoient l’offrande et se trainoient lentement autour de l’autel.” _De Pauw._

Page 121.—“_Hence the festivals and hymns_,” _&c._—For an account of the various festivals at the different periods of the sun’s progress, in the spring, and in the autumn, see _Dupuis_ and _Pritchard_.

Ib.—“_The mysteries of the night._”—v. _Athenag. Leg. pro Christ._ p. 133.

Page 125.—“_A peal like that of thunder._”—See, for some curious remarks on the mode of imitating thunder and lightning in the ancient mysteries, _De Pauw_, tom. 1. p. 323. The machine with which these effects were produced on the stage was called a ceraunoscope.

Page 131.—“_Windings, capriciously intricate._”—In addition to the accounts which the ancients have left us of the prodigious excavations in all parts of Egypt,—the fifteen hundred chambers under the Labyrinth—the subterranean stables of the Thebaïd, containing a thousand horses—the crypts of Upper Egypt passing under the bed of the Nile, &c. &c.—the stories and traditions current among the Arabs still preserve the memory of those wonderful substructions. “Un Arabe,” says Paul Lucas, “qui étoit avec nous, m’assura qu’étant entré autrefois dans le Labyrinthe, il avoit marché dans les chambres souterraines jusqu’en un lieu où il y avoit une grande place environnée de plusieurs niches qui ressembloit à de petites boutiques, d’où l’on entroit dans d’autres allées et dans des chambres, sans pouvoir en trouver la fin.” In speaking, too, of the arcades along the Nile, near Cosseir, “Ils me dirent même que ces souterrains étoient si profondes qu’il y en avoient qui alloient à trois journées de là, et qu’ils conduisoient dans un pays où l’on voyoit de beaux jardins, qu’on y trouvoit de belles maisons,” &c. &c.

See also in _M. Quatremere’s Memoires sur l’Egypte_, tom. 1. p. 142., an account of a subterranean reservoir, said to have been discovered at Kaïs, and of the expedition undertaken by a party of persons, in a long narrow boat, for the purpose of exploring it. “Leur voyage avoit été de six jours, dont les quatre premiers furent employés à pénétrer les bords; les deux autres à revenir au lieu d’où ils étoient partis: Pendant tout cet intervalle ils ne purent atteindre l’extrémité du bassin. L’émir Ala‐ eddin‐Tamboga, gouverneur de Behnesa, écrivit ces détails au sultan, qui en fut extrêmement surpris.”

Page 136.—“_A small island in the centre of Lake Mœris._”—The position here given to Lake Mœris, in making it the immediate boundary of the city of Memphis to the south, corresponds exactly with the site assigned to it by Maillet:—“Memphis avoit encore à son midi un vaste reservoir, par où tout ce qui peut servir à la commodité et à l’agrément de la vie lui étoit voituré abondamment de toutes les parties de l’Egypte. Ce lac qui la terminoit de ce côté‐là,” &c. &c. Tom. 2. p. 7.

Ib.—“_Ruins rising blackly above the wave._”—“On voit sur la rive orientale des antiquités qui sont presque entièrement sous les eaux.” _Belzoni._

Page 137.—“_Its thundering portals._”—“Quorundam autem domorum (in Labyrintho) talis est situs, ut adaperientibus foris tonitru intus terribile existat.” _Pliny._

Page 138.—“_Leaves that serve as cups._”—_Strabo._ According to the French translator of Strabo, it was the fruit of the _faba Ægyptiaca_, not the leaf, that was used for this purpose. “Le _κιβωριον_,” he says, “devoit s’entendre de la capsule ou fruit de cette plante, dont les Egyptiens se servoient comme d’un vase, imaginant que l’eau du Nil y devenoit delicieuse.”

Page 142.—“_The fish of these waters_,” _&c._—_Ælian_, lib. 6. 32.

Ib.—“_Pleasure boats or yachts._”—Called Thalamages, from the pavilion on the deck. v. _Strabo_.

Page 144.—“_Covered with beds of those pale, sweet roses._”—As April is the season for gathering these roses (See _Malte‐brun’s Economical Calendar_), the Epicurean could not, of course, mean to say that he saw them actually in flower.

Page 146.—“_The lizards upon the bank._”—“L’or et l’azur brillent en bandes longitudinales sur leur corps entier, et leur queue est du plus beau bleu celeste.” _Sonnini._

Page 147.—“_The canal through which we now sailed._”—“Un canal,” says _Maillet_, “très profond et très large y voituroit les eaux du Nil.”

Page 150.—“_For a draught of whose flood_,” _&c._—“Anciennement on portoit les eaux du Nil jusqu’au des contrées fort éloignées, et surtout chez les princesses du sang des Ptolomées, mariées dans des families étrangères.” _De Pauw._

Page 154.—“_Bearing each the name of its owner._”—“Le nom du maître y étoit écrit, pendant la nuit en lettres de feu.” _Maillet._

Page 155.—“_Cups of that frail crystal_”—called Alassontes. For their brittleness _Martial_ is an authority:—

Tolle, puer, calices, tepidique toreumata Nili,
Et mihi securâ pocula trade manu.

Ib.—“_Bracelets of the black beans of Abyssinia._”—The bean of the Glycyne, which is so beautiful as to be strung into necklaces and bracelets, is generally known by the name of the black bean of Abyssinia. _Niebhur._

Ib.—“_Sweet lotus‐wood flute._”—See _M. Villoteau on the musical instruments of the Egyptians_.

Page 156.—“_Shine like the brow of Mount Atlas at night._”—_Solinus_ speaks of the snowy summit of Mount Atlas glittering with flames at night. In the account of the Periplus of Hanno, as well as in that of Eudoxus, we read that as those navigators were coasting this part of Africa, torrents of light were seen to fall on the sea.

Page 158.—“_The tears of Isis._”—“Per lacrymas, vero, Isidis intelligo effluvia quædam Lunæ, quibus tantam vim videntur tribuisse Ægypti.” _Jablonski._—He is of opinion that the superstition of the _Nucta_, or miraculous drop, is of a relic of the veneration paid to the dews, as the tears of Isis.

Page 158.—“_The rustling of the acacias_,” _&c._—_Travels of Captain Mangles._

Ib.—“_Supposed to rest in the valley of the moon._”—_Plutarch._ _Dupuis_, tom. 10. The Manicheans held the same belief. See _Beausobre_, p. 565.

Page 160.—“_Sothis, the fair star of the waters._”—_ὑδραγωγον_ is the epithet applied to this star by _Plutarch_, _de Isid._

Ib.—“_Was its birth‐star._”—_Ἡ Σωθεως ανατολη γενεσεως καταρχουσα της εις τον κοσμον_. _Porphyr. de Antro Nymph._

Page 168.—“_Golden Mountains._”—v. _Wilford on Egypt and the Nile_, Asiatic Researches.

Ib.—“_Sweet‐smelling wood._”—“’A l’époque de la crue le Nil Vert charie les planches d’un bois qui a une odeur semblable à celle de l’encens.” _Quatremere._

Page 169.—“_Barges full of bees._”—_Maillet._

Page 170.—“_Such a profusion of the white flowers_,” _&c._—“On les voit comme jadis cueillir dans les champs des tiges du lotus, signes du débordement et présages de l’abondance; ils s’enveloppent les bras et le corps avec les longues tiges fleuries, et parcourent les rues,” &c. _Description des Tombeaux des Rois, par M. Costaz._

Page 173.—“_While composing his commentary on the scriptures._”—It was during the composition of his great critical work, the Hexapla, that Origen employed these female scribes.

Page 176.—“_That rich tapestry_,” _&c._

Non ego prætulerim Babylonica picta superbè
Texta, Semiramiâ quæ variantur acu.

_Martial._

Page 200.—“_The Place of Weeping._”—v. _Wilford_, _Asiatic Researches_, vol. 3. p. 340.

Page 210.—“_We had long since left this mountain behind._”—The voyages on the Nile are, under favourable circumstances, performed with considerable rapidity. “En cinq ou six jours,” says _Maillet_, “on pourroit aisément remonter de l’embouchure du Nil à ses cataractes, ou descendre des cataractes jusqu’à la mer.” The great uncertainty of the navigation is proved by what _Belzoni_ tells us:—“Nous ne mîmes cette fois que deux jours et demi pour faire le trajet du Caire à Melawi, auquel, dans notre second voyage, nous avions employés dix‐huit jours.”

Page 212.—“_Those mighty statues, that fling their shadows._”—“Elles out près de vingt mètres (61 pieds) d’élévation; et au lever du soleil, leurs ombres immenses s’étendent au loin sur la chaine Libyen.” _Description générale de Thèbes, par Messrs. Jollois et Desvilliers._

Ib.—“_Those cool alcoves._”—_Paul Lucas._

Page 219.—“_Whose waters are half sweet, half bitter._”—_Paul Lucas._

Page 224.—“_The Mountain of the Birds._”—There has been much controversy among the Arabian writers, with respect to the site of this mountain, for which see _Quatremere_, tom. 1. art. _Amoun_.

Page 230.—“_The hand of labour had succeeded_,” _&c._—The monks of Mount Sinai (_Shaw_ says) have covered over near four acres of the naked rocks with fruitful gardens and orchards.

Page 233.—“_The image of a head._”—There was usually, Tertullian tells us, the image of Christ on the communion‐cups.

Ib.—“_Kissed her forehead._”—“We are rather disposed to infer,” says the present Bishop of Lincoln, in his very sensible work on Tertullian, “that, at the conclusion of all their meetings for the purpose of devotion, the early Christians were accustomed to give the kiss of peace, in token of the brotherly love subsisting between them.”

Page 237.—“_In the middle of the seven valleys._”—See Macrizy’s account of these valleys, given by Quatremere, tom. 1. p. 450.

Ib.—“_Red lakes of Nitria._”—For a striking description of this region, see “_Rameses_,”—a work which, though, in general, too technical and elaborate, shows, in many passages, to what picturesque effects the scenery and mythology of Egypt may be made subservient.

Page 238.—“_In the neighbourhood of Antinoë._”—From the position assigned to Antinoë in this work, we should conclude that it extended much farther to the north, than these few ruins of it that remain would seem to indicate; so as to render the distance between the city and the Mountain of the Birds considerably less than what it appears to be at present.

Page 243.—“_When Isis, the pure star of lovers._”—v. _Plutarch de Isid._

Ib.—“_Ere she again embrace her bridegroom sun._”—“Conjunctio solis cum luna, quod est veluti utriusque connubium.” _Jablonski._

Page 247.—“_Of his walks a lion is the companion._”—M. Chateaubriand has introduced Paul and his lion into the “_Martyrs_,” liv. 11.

Page 235.—“_Come thus secretly before day‐break._”—It was among the accusations of Celsus against the Christians, that they held their assemblies privately and contrary to law; and one of the speakers in the curious work of Minucius Felix calls the Christians “latebrosa et lucifugax natio.”

Page 256.—“_A swallow_,” _&c._—“Je vis dans le desert des hirondelles d’un gris clair comme le sable sur lequel elles volent.”—_Denon._

Page 257.—“_The comet that once desolated this world._”—In alluding to Whiston’s idea of a comet having caused the deluge, _M. Girard_, having remarked that the word Typhon means a deluge, adds, “On ne peut entendre par le tems du règne de Typhon que celui pendant lequel le déluge inonda la terre, tems pendant lequel on dût observer la comète qui l’occasionna, et dont l’apparition fut, non seulement pour les peuples de l’Egypte, et de l’Ethiopie, mais encore pour tous les peuples le présage funeste de leur destruction presque totale.” _Description de la Vallée de l’E’garement._

Page 259.—“_In which the spirit of my dream_,” _&c._—“Many people,” said _Origen_, “have been brought over to Christianity by the Spirit of God giving a sudden turn to their minds, and offering visions to them either by day or night.” On this _Jortin_ remarks:—“Why should it be thought improbable that Pagans of good dispositions, but not free from prejudices, should have been called by divine admonitions, by dreams or visions, which might be a support to Christianity in those days of distress.”

Page 263.—“_One of those earthen cups._”—_Palladius_, who lived some time in Egypt, describes the monk Ptolemæus, who inhabited the desert of Scete, as collecting in earthen cups the abundant dew from the rocks.—_Bibliothec. Pat._ tom. 13.

Page 264.—“_It was to preserve, he said_,” _&c._—The brief sketch here given of the Jewish dispensation agrees very much with the view taken of it by Dr. Sumner, the present Bishop of Llandaff, in the first chapters of his eloquent and luminous work, the “Records of the Creation.”

Page 266.—“_In vain did I seek the promise of immortality._”—“It is impossible to deny,” says the Bishop of Llandaff, “that the sanctions of the Mosaic Law are altogether temporal.... It is, indeed, one of the facts that can only be explained by acknowledging that he really acted under a divine commission, promulgating a temporary law for a peculiar purpose,”—a much more candid and sensible way of treating this very difficult point, than by either endeavouring, like Warburton, to escape from it into a paradox, or still worse, contriving, like Dr. Graves, to increase its difficulty by explanation. v. “_On the Pentateuch_.” See also _Horne’s Introduction_, _&c._ vol. I. p. 226.

Page 268.—“_All are of the dust_,” _&c._—While Voltaire, Volney, &c. refer to the Ecclesiastes, as abounding with tenets of materialism and Epicurism, Mr. Des Voeux and others find in it strong proofs of belief in a future state. The chief difficulty lies in the chapter from which this text is quoted; and the mode of construction by which some writers attempt to get rid of it,—namely, by putting these texts into the mouth of a foolish reasoner,—appears forced and gratuitous. v. _Dr. Hales’s Analysis_.

Page 270.—“_The noblest and first‐created_,” _&c._—This opinion of the Hermit may be supposed to have been derived from his master, Origen; but it is not easy to ascertain the exact doctrine of Origen on this subject. In the Treatise on Prayer attributed to him, he asserts that God the Father alone should be invoked,—which, says Bayle, is “encherir sur les Hérésies des Sociniens.” Notwithstanding this, however, and some other indications of, what was afterwards called, Arianism, (such as the opinion of the divinity being received by _communication_, which _Milner_ asserts to have been held by this Father,) Origen was one of the authorities quoted by Athanasius in support of his high doctrines of co‐eternity and co‐essentiality. What Priestley says is, perhaps, the best solution of these inconsistencies;—“Origen, as well as Clemens Alexandrinus, has been thought to favour the Arian principle; but he did it only in words and not in ideas.” _Early Opinions_, _&c._ Whatever uncertainty, however, there may exist with respect to the opinion of Origen himself on this subject, there is no doubt that the doctrines of his immediate followers were, at least, Anti‐Athanasian. “So many Bishops of Africa,” says Priestley, “were, at this period (between the years 255 and 258), Unitarians, that Athanasius says, ‘The Son of God,’—meaning his divinity,—‘was scarcely any longer preached in the churches.’”

Page 271.—“_The restoration of the whole human race to purity and happiness._”—This benevolent doctrine,—which not only goes far to solve the great problem of moral and physical evil, but which would, if received more generally, tend to soften the spirit of uncharitableness, so fatally prevalent among Christian sects,—was maintained by that great light of the early Church, Origen, and has not wanted supporters among more modern Theologians. That Tillotson was inclined to the opinion appears from his sermon preached before the queen. Paley is supposed to have held the same amiable doctrine; and Newton (the author of the work on the Prophecies) is also among the supporters of it. For a full account of the arguments in favour of this opinion, derived both from reason and the express language of Scripture, see Dr. Southwood Smith’s very interesting work, “On the Divine Government.” See also _Magee on the Atonement_, where the doctrine of the advocates of Universal Restoration is thus briefly and fairly explained:—“Beginning with the existence of an infinitely powerful, wise, and good Being, as the first and fundamental principle of rational religion, they pronounce the essence of this Being to be _love_, and from this infer, as a demonstrable consequence, that none of the creatures formed by such a Being will ever be made eternally miserable.... Since God (they say) would act unjustly in inflicting eternal misery for temporary crimes, the sufferings of the wicked can be but remedial, and will terminate in a complete purification from moral disorder, and in their ultimate restoration to virtue and happiness.”

Page 273.—“_Fruit of the desert shrub._”—v. _Hamilton’s Ægyptiaca_.