LODGE DIALOGUES N IV IGHT had come-night with a million stars. It is the hour of faith, of the hidden life, when the secrets of the heart are revealed. The body lies asleep. On the other side of sleep the soul wakes, threading its way through the mazes of the mind to temporary freedom and calm, readjusting itself to realities. At these heights the stars are close; one could almost touch them with the fingers of an outstretched hand it seems; and they are friendly, too, in their nearness,-not austere and distant in their purity and obedience as so often they appear from below. Here they shine from the depth of blue which throbs in unison with the great Heart behind. One can feel that Heart. We had come a long, long way, and the Littlest One and I lay and gazed at them. Not far off the Finger Peak pointed upward, piercing the blue. "Big Brother says they are the candles of the angels"; the sweet, childish treble was hushed in tone, "but how slowly the angels walk then! I suppose not to joggle", he said. "They move in Eternity", I answered, "where they live, and with God's patience which they serve, mercifully for us, since we who live in time, can sustain the hope of not being left behind." "If the world is round", he continued, "might it not be quicker to walk about the other way and meet them?" "Some people have tried that, but in the dark they lost their way and fell into the abyss. It is a dangerous chance. Not one in a thousand succeeds. It is best to come here to gaze at them, and then to walk in their light. We never can lose them then.” After pause he asked, "When you go back, how do the stars look from there?" "Like courage and fortitude, dear child, like endurance and patience and strength; like belief in the Father's love, and trust in his wisdom, and obedience to his will. They are the lights of faith." "Where did the light come from to make them?-I know", he added quickly, "from the eyes of the Devas, who made them a present to God." M. AKHNATON THE "HERETIC" PHARAOH OF EGYPT A II THE MIDDLE KINGDOM (continued) NOTHER example of the painful re-awakening of the men of the Middle Kingdom, immediately following the dark period, is a remarkable papyrus which describes a colloquy, one might call it a dispute, between a man and his own soul,—a man who feels that he has a just grievance against society, which in consequence he despises. It is an early protest of the individual against what he considers unjust social conditions, the sort of thing we should never have found in the Old Kingdom. But it takes us much farther than did the Harper, because it maintains that, while we may know little in detail of what happens to us after death, this is no reason for unbridled indulgence now. We can only give extracts, for the dialogue is long and much of it very obscure. The early part is given over to an enumeration of the miseries caused by the evils of the day, by false friends and by cruel enemies. But for all that, healing is not to be found in intemperance and self-indulgence, as the Harper would have us think. Death is far preferable to a life of debauchery, and should, indeed, be looked on as a happy release. Death is before me today (Like) the recovery of a sick man, Like going forth into a garden after sickness. Death is before me today Like the odor of myrrh, Like sitting under the sail on a windy day. Death is before me today Like the odor of lotus flowers, Like sitting on the shore of drunkenness. Death is before me today Like the course of the freshet, Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house. Death is before me today Like the clearing of the sky, Like a man (fowling therein toward) that which he knew not. Death is before me today As a man longs to see his house When he has spent years in captivity.1 It does not occur to this mournful individual to fall to with a will and help to better social conditions,-that was to come later; the world had not yet waked up to the possibility of doing this. This man only longs for liberation from his miseries, sighing to himself: He who is yonder Shall stand in the celestial barque, Causing that the choicest of the offerings there be given to the temples. He who is yonder Shall be a wise man who has not been repelled, While the Harper saw emancipation only in living for the moment, this despairing man sees it in seeking "those who are beyond"-the dead. He is fortunately typical only of a short period of the thinking world of that day, but that he could exist at all is significant. Side by side with him we find the less egotistical reflections of a priest of Heliopolis, who bewails social conditions as intensely as does the Misanthrope, but not on his own account; his concern is for society itself, which is its own worst enemy: "Righteousness is cast out, iniquity is in the midst of the council-hall. The plans of the gods are violated, their dispositions are disregarded. The land is in distress, mourning is in every place, towns and districts are in lamentation. All men alike are under wrongs; as for respect, an end is made of it." But he is no more successful in finding a solution than were the other two. 6 Even the King does not escape the general despondency. Amenemhat I, the great founder of the XIIth Dynasty, solemnly admonishes his son and successor, Senusert I, exhorting him to put his faith in no man. Late in life the attempted assassination of the King by his most trusted subjects, had so shaken his confidence in human nature, and had left so deep and terrible a scar on his soul, that his short utterance is full of bitterness. In a few dramatic lines, he has left us a vivid picture of that dark midnight scene in the palace, when the conspiracy, kept secret till that moment, bursts in all its fury on the old and unsuspecting King. It was after the evening meal, and night was come. I took for myself an hour of ease. I lay down upon my bed, for I was weary. My heart began to wander. I slept. And lo! weapons were brandished, and there was conference concerning me. I acted as the serpent of the desert. [He remained quiet but watchful.] I awoke to fight; I was alone. I found one struck down, it was Breasted's translation. • Ibid. • Ibid. the captain of the guard. Had I received quickly the arms from his hand, I had driven back the dastards by smiting around. But he was not a brave man on that night, nor could I fight alone; an occasion of prowess cometh not to one surprised. Thus was I. He then sternly counsels his son, with evident, perhaps pardonable, disillusionment: Hearken to that which I say to thee, That thou mayest be King of the earth, Harden thyself against all subordinates. The people give heed to him who terrorizes them. Fill not thy heart with a brother, Know not a friend, Nor make for thyself intimates, Wherein there is no end. When thou sleepest, guard for thyself thine own heart; In the day of evil. I gave to the beggar, I nourished the orphan; I admitted the insignificant as well as him who was of great account. But he who ate my food made insurrection; He to whom I gave my hand aroused fear therein. 8 It would be an unpardonable injustice to the men of the Middle Kingdom, however, to imagine that the profound and negative dejection so pronounced in the Song of the Harper and in the lamentations of the Misanthrope and of the Heliopolitan priest, and even in Amenemhat I, was in any sense universal or of long duration. Egypt had suffered much during the dark period after the downfall of the Old Kingdom, and, as we have already pointed out, most of the despondent writing of the new era was in the early days before the complete restoration of order, and while men's hearts were still sore. They had lost the power which was the heritage of the men of the Old Kingdom, of making the particular subservient to the collective, of merging diversity into unity. An undue emphasis was put on their individual selves, dulling their spiritual perception. Their minds could no longer, as in the Old Kingdom, turn rapturously outwards, losing themselves in the glories of the visible universe, seeing, with the eyes of the soul, that universe as but the reflection of the hidden and still more glorious kingdom beyond, where the spirit dwells eternal,-seeing, also, man in his true relation to it. Instead of this, their bewildered minds turned inwards upon themselves, making their individual selves the measure of truth. And yet, with it all, there was a blind, a piteous reaching out and upwards towards better things, a struggling against the dark forces, which saves this period from being Gunn's translation. Breasted's translation. completely decadent. We have but to sympathise with the yearning in all their references to their illustrious ancestors, "the gods who were aforetime", "the glorious departed", to appreciate their sad comparisons between the evils of the present and the dignity of the past, and to know that they were grievously dissatisfied with themselves. It had long before been said by one of the Wise Men of the Old Kingdom: "That which destroyeth a vision is the veil over it." The men of the early part of the Middle Kingdom allowed their vision to be dulled by the thick veil of personality which shut them in and all but smothered them. Presently, however, we come upon a sharp counter-current, an entirely new spirit,-a spirit of a strong and healthy recognition of the immutable, the eternal values of life. What if the resting places of the dead, so carefully planned, so strongly built, have been desecrated! What matters it if nothing mortal remains sacred in a fleeting world? Character, at least, can and should be made permanent, and it is character, in the end, which will bring about the regeneration of society, and triumph. over death. This, of course, as we have seen, was also the point of view of the men of the Old Kingdom, only they, being less labyrinthine in their methods of approach, reached this solution with fewer difficulties. A striking example can be found in the scathing arraignment of society by Ipuwer, to us an obscure personage, but evidently a sage of high repute in his day. His grief is intense that the glory of the old world has departed; he censures himself severely for not having sooner made an effort to stem the tide: "Would that I had uttered my voice at that time, that it might save me from the suffering wherein I am. Woe is me for the misery of this time." But with consuming energy he exhorts men to renewed effort to purify their lives, and to "destroy the enemies of the August Residence" (of the Pharaoh), assuring them that with this renewed effort will come again among them the Perfect Ruler. "It is said he is the Shepherd of all men. There is no evil in his heart. When his herds are few, he passeth the day to gather them together, their hearts being fevered." It would seem that Ipuwer is calling up before the eyes of men the forgotten image of Ra, the Ideal King, the first Divine Ruler of Egypt, and as Breasted, whose translation is given, points out, one compares it instinctively with the later Hebraic predictions of the coming of the Messiah. One characteristic form of literature of this period, and of which there is not a little, is that in which we find laid down very definite rules for good conduct, wholesome and sane living, moderation, the practice of cheerfulness, and, above all, moral earnestness,-in fact the sort of sound advice which a father would give a son, knowing that it would help to build up, for the younger generation, a healthy and happy state. It is in the "Wisdom of Ptahhotep" that we find perhaps the best known example of this. These "Instructions" are found many times repeated in XIIth. Dynasty papyri, for they were held in such high esteem that they were apparently widely circulated, and were taught in the schools |