“Such,” continued Seti, “was the Egypt which I found. Such was the policy, solid and venerable with the approval and practice of thousands of years, that I inherited. It was an ungrateful inheritance. I came early to doubt its wisdom and righteousness; and by the time when power came into my hands I had made up my mind to resist and forsake it just as far and fast as possible. I knew that a sudden change was not wisely possible. I realized that reforms of ancient evils that have become intertwined with the whole structure of society must be carefully and gradually made. Else social convulsions will follow. More damage would come from violent and precipitate measures than would come from the evil they attack. With the power of an emperor I could not have wisely abolished the old order of things by edict.
“All this I felt profoundly. And so when the supreme priesthood came to me, while I determined to proceed at once and thoroughly to the great problem of restoring our religion to its primitive purity among the lower classes, I also determined to proceed cautiously. I labored to change the views of the priesthood already on the stage. As director of all the schools for young priests, I sought to shape their education toward the original order of things. I enlarged as much as possible the number of the initiated in the higher classes. I took pains (how much some of you well know) to impress my views on the young men gathered here for education from all parts of the world—hoping that the truth would filter down through the upper strata into the lower and the lowest. And, further, I have persuaded and instructed the priests who deal directly with the common people to push into the background, more and more, the secondary deities—to bring to the front, more and more, the Supreme One; and to insist upon it that there be no worship of the symbols of even Him, only of the Being symbolized; all to prepare the way for withdrawing the symbols themselves.
“I may have been too lingering and indirect in my action. Some of my friends think as much. It is not easy to judge in such matters. I would be glad if we could have a Divine Teacher, such as Plato craved, to tell us with authority exactly what to do. But until He comes (if indeed He has not already come) we must take the course that seems to promise the most good with the least harm. Unsuccessful violence on the traditional religious habits of the people would be likely to give us political and social convulsions which would be bad enough: successful violence would be likely to give us general atheism which would be worse. Young men (and his voice grew graver and more emphatic as his eye went searchingly around among the earnest faces), Young men, remember that there is something worse than worshipping Nilus, or the ibis: it is the not worshipping at all.”
The students now supposed the lecture finished; but after a silence of a few moments Seti added:
“Some of you may feel like asking how this course of mine can consist with the position I hold as head of the Egyptian religion. If an answer to this is not sufficiently implied in what I have said already, let me add that I regard myself as being the high-priest of the original religion of Egypt, according to our ancient institutions; and do not feel bound to the variations from it that have been mistakenly introduced by others. Further, in the course I am pursuing I have the approval of most of those who have always had in charge the religious concerns of the country—the higher priesthood. And still further, I am not chargeable with double-dealing—for, as you will bear me witness, I make no secret of my views and purposes; and my position does not require me to officiate at the worship of any secondary deity, but only at that of Amun Re Himself. Even the symbols of Him under the name of Serapis I do not now use either in public or private. The statue of Him belonging to this temple has not been before the public for a number of years.”
This concluded the lecture. But the young men, too much interested in both the manner and the matter of their teacher to be in any hurry to get away, were still lingering in their seats, when a young man appeared at the door and politely asked their attention. He said that he had been deputed by the Museum to lay a certain complaint before them. It appeared that a stranger had been received to student matriculation by the Serapeum without actual testing in athletics. This step was certainly very unusual, if not wholly unprecedented; and the Museum felt obliged to complain of it after a fraternal and gentlemanly fashion, and to ask that the ancient usage of the University may not be violated.
Publius Cornelius sprang to his feet. “It is, I believe, according to the ancient usage of the University that the examination which satisfies one of its departments shall satisfy the other also. I beg to inform Quintius Metellus that we examined the candidate to whom he refers as to athletic matters, and were abundantly satisfied with the examination.”
“Still it appears,” blandly returned the somewhat foppish and fast looking young Metellus, “that no actual trial of strength and skill was made; and the Museum cannot but think that if the new-comer is really deserving of such exceptional treatment he will be willing to content us with an actual instead of an imaginary testing in the more advanced athletics. The Museum has presumed on his willingness, and is at this moment present in a body in your gymnasium awaiting his appearance.”
“This seems to me,” began P. Cornelius in a tone just a little tinged with indignation—but Aleph, making a sign to him, interposed:
“I beg,” said he, “that our president will not press his view. I am quite willing to content the Museum, and should be sorry to have any feel that an ancient usage of the University has been unreasonably set aside in my favor. I hope, therefore, that the Serapeum will yield to the wishes of the Museum.”