lected an Israelite; but, tearing him early from his rude people, procured for him the advantages of Egyptian learning; and thus a Hebrew, with an Egyptian education, became the instrument by which this nation escaped from bondage. After having related the exposure and preservation of the infant Moses, the author continues: A second time the mother received her son, and now dared to bring him up publicly and without peril; thus he learned the language of his nation, and became acquainted with her customs, whilst his mother probably did not fail to engrave on his tender soul a truly moving image of the universal wretchedness. When he had attained those years in which a mother's fostering care was no longer needful, and when it became necessary to separate him from the common destiny of his people, his parent restored him to the princess, and to her committed the future fate of the boy; the daughter of Pharaoh adopted him, and named him Moses, because he had been saved from the water. Thus, from being the child of a slave and the destined sacrifice to death, he became the son of a princess, and, as such, participated in all the advantages enjoyed by royal children. The priests, to whose order he belonged on being incorporated in the kingly family, now undertook his education, and instructed him in the whole circle of Egyptian lore, the exclusive privilege of their profession; yes, it is probable that they withheld none of their secrets from him, since a passage of the Egyptian historian Manetho, in which he describes Moses as an apostate from his religion, and a runaway priest of Heliopolis, leads us to suppose that he was destined for the priestly station. In order, therefore, to determine what Moses must have acquired in this school, and what share the education he received among the priests had in his subsequent conduct as a legislator, we must enter on a closer examination of this institution, and hear the testimony of old writers on what was there taught and implanted. The Apostle Stephen declares him to have been "skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians:" the historian Philo says, that Moses was initiated by the priests in the philosophy of symbols and hieroglyphics, as also in the mysteries of the sacred animals. This testimony many confirm; and on casting a glance over what are called Egyptian mysteries, and the subsequent acts and ordinances of Moses, a striking similarity will appear. The religion of the ancients (as it is well known) soon passed into idolatry and superstition; and even with those very nations, named by Scripture as the worshipers of the true God, the ideas of the highest Being were neither pure nor noble, and founded on nothing less than a clear and rational judgment; but as soon as, through a better arrangement of civil society, and the formation of established states, classes were separated, and the care of divine matters became the business of a particular station; as soon as, in this freedom from all distracting cares, the human mind enjoyed leisure to surrender itself wholly to the consideration of itself and of nature; as soon, finally, as clearer glimpses were obtained of the physical economy of nature, reason of necessity triumphed over every gross error, and the conception of the Highest was ennobled. The idea of an universal dependence of things must unquestionably lead to that of one Supreme Mind; and where should this idea rather germinate than in the head of a priest? As Egypt was the first cultivated state known to history, and the most ancient mysteries are delivered originally from thence, so was it here, in all probability, that the first idea of the Unity of the Highest was conceived by the human intellect. The fortunate discoverer of this soulelevating idea, now sought, amongst those by whom he was surrounded, fit subjects to whom he could confide the precious treasure; and thus was it handed down from one thinker to another, through I know not how many generations, until at length it became the property of an entire little society, worthy of comprehending, cultivating and diffusing it. But as a certain measure of knowledge and refinement of understanding was required rightly to grasp and apply the idea of one God, and as a belief in the Divine Unity must be accompanied by a contempt for the Polytheism which was the prevailing religion, so it was soon felt that it would be imprudent, nay, dangerous to disseminate this idea publicly and generally. Without previously rejecting the gods of the state, and exposing them in their laughable nakedness, there could be no entrance for this new doctrine. But it could neither be foretold nor expected that each, to whom the old superstition was rendered an object of scorn, should be capable of rising to the pure and vast idea of truth: besides, the whole civil constitution was grounded on this superstition; by shaking it, you shook, at the same time, all the pillars by which the entire state edifice was supported; and it was still very uncertain whether the new religion to be substituted would be firm enough to bear the superstructure. And should the attempt to cast down the ancient idols fail, blind fanaticism would array itself in arms, and the reformers be sacrificed as victims by a raging multitude. It was, therefore, held expedient to make the new truth the exclusive property of a small and chosen band, who might select from the multitude, and receive into their confederacy, those who exhibited a due measure of the power of comprehension; and truth herself, hidden from the profane eye, was clothed with a mysterious dress, only to be removed by those who had approved themselves worthy. To this end were hieroglyphics chosen, a speaking image-writing, concealing the universal idea in the juxta position of sensible signs, and grounded on arbitrary rules, previously agreed on. As these enlightened men had been taught by idolatry how strongly youthful hearts might be worked on by the power of imagination and the senses, so had they no hesitation in employing this artifice of deceit for the advantage of truth; they introduced, therefore, new ideas into the soul, with a certain sensible solemnity, and, by every preparation adapted to this end, placed the mind of their pupil in the situation of passionate emotion, fitted for the reception of a novel truth. Of this kind were the purifications to be undergone by the probationers, the washing and sprinking, the wrapping in linen vestures, the abstinence from all sensual enjoyments, the excitement and clevation of the mind in singing, the signi cant silence, the alternation between light and darkness, and the like. These ceremonies, united with those mysterious images and hieroglyphics, and the concealed truths hidden in the latter, and prepared for the purpose, were comprehended altogether under the title of mysteries; they had their seat in the temple of Isis and Serapis, and were the prototypes upon which, in the sequel, the mysteries of Eleusis and Samothrace, and in later times the order of freemasonry, were modeled. It appears placed beyond controversy, that the import of the most ancient mysteries in Heliopolis and Memphis, in their uncorrupted state, was the unity of God and the refutation of Paganism, and that the immortality of the soul was thence induced. Those who participated in this important deduction were called scers or epopten, because a new acquaintance with a hidden truth may be compared to the passing over from darkness to light; perhaps, too, because they, in a real and peculiar sense, did see the newly acquired truths in sensible images. But this perception they could not at once attain, because the spirit must be purified from many errors, and pass through many preparations, before it could support the full light of truth. Hence were there steps and gradations, and it was in the innermost sanctuary that the veil first fell wholly from the sight. They recognized one single First Cause of all things, one original power of nature, the life of life, the same with the Demiurgos of the Grecian sages. Nothing is more sublime than the simple grandeur with which they spoke of the Creator. In order to denote him in the most exclusive manner, they gave him no name. A name, they said, is merely a requisite for distinction; he who is alone, needs no name, for there is none with whom he can be confounded. Under an old column of Isis these words were read: “I am that which is ;" and on a pyramid at Sais, was found the ancient remarkable inscription, “I am all that is, that was, ana that shall be; no mortal man has raised my veil." None dared enter the Temple of Serapis who did not bear on his breast or brow the name Jao or J-ha-ho, a term almost equiva lent in sound to that of the Hebrew Jehovah, and probably of identical import; and no name was uttered in Egypt with more reverence than this of Joa. In the hymn which the hiero phant or guardian of the sanctuary sang to the initiated, this was the first explanation given of the nature of the Deity: He is one, and by himself, and to him alone do all things owe their existence. A necessary preliminary to every initiation was the ceremony of circumcision, to which even Pythagoras was compelled to submit, previous to his reception into the Egyptian mysteries. This separation from others indicated a closer fraternity between themselves, a more intimate relation with the Divinity, of which Moses afterwards took advantage among the Israelites. In the inner recesses of the Temple, different holy enigmas presented themselves, expressive of a common meaning. Amongst these was a sacred chest, called the Coffin of Serapis, and which at its origin was a type of hidden wisdom; but afterwards, as the institution degenerated, served the game of dealers in mystery and in wretched priesteraft. To bear this chest was a privilege of the priests, or of one class of the servants of the sanctuary, called on this account Kistophori. To none but the hierophant was it permitted to uncover this chest, or even to touch it. It is related of one who had the temerity to open it, that he instantly became delirious. In the Egyptian mysteries you further met with certain hieroglyphical images, composed of many animal forms; the well-known sphinx is one of these: either it was intended to denote the properties which unite in the Highest, or to centre in a single form the most powerful of all living creatures. Something was taken from the mightiest of birds, or the eagle; from the mightiest of wild beasts, or the lion; from the mightiest of tame animals, or the ox; and finally, from the mightiest of all creatures, man. The representation of the ox or the apis was especially used as the emblem of strength, in order to denote the omnipotence of the Supreme; but the steer is called in the original cherub. These mystical forms, to which none but the inspectors had the key, gave to the mysteries themselves a sensible or palpable exterior, which deceived the people, and ever held something in cominon with idolatry: superstition, therefore, continued to be ever fostered by the external garb of those mysteries which were the sport of the sanctuary itself. Still it is conceivable how this pure Deism might be reconciled with that idolatry which it at once rejected from within, and maintained from without. The original founders of the mysteries might plead necessity in excuse of this contradiction between the priestly and popular religion; it appeared the least of two evils, since there was more hope of intercepting the dangerous consequences of concealed, than the pernicious operation of prematurely discovered, truth. As unworthy members pressed by degrees into the circle! of the initiated, as the institution degenerated from its pristine purity, so did that which was at first a simple auxiliary mean, viz. secrecy, become the ultimate object, and instead of gradually purifying the creed, and fitting the people for the reception of truth, they found their account in leading them more and more astray, and plunging them more and more deeply into superstition. Priestcraft now usurped the place of pure and innocent purposes, and the very establishment which should have upheld, maintained, and cautiously diffused the knowledge of the one true God, became the most powerful instrument of the reverse, and degenerated into a peculiar school of idolatry. The hierophants, not to lose their mastery over the mind, and to keep expectation ever on the stretch, found it advisable to hold back the final explanation, which must utterly demolish error; and to impede, by every theatrical artifice, the entrance to the sanctuary. At length the key to the hieroglyphics and secret figures was wholly lost, and the wrapping veil of truth was mistaken for her reality. It is difficult to determine whether Moses' education occurred in the flourishing period of the institution, or at the commencement of its decline; but probably its decay was approaching, as some tricks borrowed by the Hebrew lawgiver, and some not very creditable artifices which he put into play, would lead us to suppose. But the spirit of the first founders had not yet vanished, and the doctrine of the Unity of the Creator still rewarded the expectation of the initiated. This doctrine, which had the most decisive contempt of idolatry as its inevitable consequence, united with the almost inseparable belief in immortality, was the rich treasure brought by the young Hebrew from the mysteries of Isis. At the same time, he was rendered conversant with the powers of nature, then the objects of secret learning, which afterwards enabled him to work miracles, and, in the presence of Pharaoh, to contend with his wise men and magicians, whom he in some instances excelled. His subsequent life proves that he had been au apt and attentive scholar, and had attained the highest rank among the seers. In the same school he collected also a treasure of hieroglyphical mystical pictures and ceremonies, of which his inventive spirit made use in the sequel. He had wandered through the whole province of Egyptian lore, resolved the entire system of the priests, weigh ed against each other its deficiences and its advantages, its strength and its weakness, and taken an important and comprehensive view of the art of goverment, as exercised amongst this people. It is uncertain how long he remained in the school of the priests, but his late political career, which lasted till his 80th year, makes it probable that he had devoted more than 20 years to the study of the mysteries and of the state; this residence, however, seems by no means to have excluded him from the society of his countrymen, and he had abundant opportunity of witnessing the inhumanity under which they groaned. Egyptian education had not stifled his natural feeling; the ill usage of his people reminded him that he too was a Hebrew, and the sight of their sorsows implanted in his breast a deep and just displeasure. The more he appreciated himself, the more must the unworthy treatment of his compatriots irritate and inflame. He beheld a Hebrew suffering under the stripes of an Egyptian overseer; the sight overpowered him; he slew the Egyptian. Soon is the deed known; his life is in danger; he must quit Egypt, and flies to the Arabian desert. Many place his flight in his 40th year, but without any proof: for us it is enough to know, that Moses could no longer be very young when it took place. With this exile commences a new era in his life; and if we would rightly estimate his future political career in Egypt, we must accompany him in his solitude in Arabia. He bore with him into the desert a sanguinary hatred towards the oppressors of his nation, and all the knowledge he had acquired in their schools. His soul was filled with ideas and schemes, his heart was replete with bitterness, and nothing distracted him in this desolate waste. The documents record his keeping the sheep of an Arabian Bedouin, Jethro. How low was this fall from all his prospects and hopes in Egypt, to the station of a herdsman in Arabia; from the future ruler over men, to be the hired servant of a shepherd! How severely must his soul be wounded! Beneath the garb of a hind he bears about with him a fervent desire of rule-a restless ambition. Here, in this romantic solitude, where the present offers him nothing, he calls to his aid the past and the future, and communes with his quiet thoughts. All the scenes of oppression which he had formerly witnessed, pass over his memory, and nothing impedes the sting from entering into his soul. Nothing is more insupportable to a great mind than the endurance of injustice; in addition to which his own people are the sufferers. A noble indignation awakes in his breast, and a vehement impulse to act and to distinguish himself accompanies this offended pride. All that he had collected in the course of long years, all that he had meditated and resolved of fair and great, shall it die with him in this desert? Shall it in vain have been meditated and resolved? This thought his fiery soul cannot endure. He elevates himself above his lot; this waste shall not limit his deeds: to something great has he been destined by that high Being whom he had learned to recognize in the mysteries. His fancy, kindled by solitude and stillness, seizes on that which is nearest him, the party of the oppressed; similar feelings seek out each other; and the unfortunate will ever join the clan of the unfortunate. In Egypt he would have been an Egyptian, a hierophant, a general; in Arabia, he becomes a Hebrew. Vast and glorious, presents itself to his spirit the idea, "I will deliver this people." But what possibility of accomplishing this resolve? Not to be overlooked are the hindrances which press around him and those with which he must contend amongst his own people, are, of all, by far the most alarming. There is neither union nor confidence, neither self-estimation nor courage, neither public spirit, nor the stirring animation by which noble deeds are inspired, on which to calculate; a long slavery, a 400 years' misery has stifled all these feelings. The people at whose head he is to step are equally unfit for, and unworthy of, the bold venture. From them nothing can be expected, without them nothing achieved. What then remains to him? Before he undertakes their deliverance, he must begin by rendering them worthy of the benefit. He must reinstate them in the right of humanity, beyond which they have been outlawed. He must restore the qualities smothered by long degradation to a savage state—that is, must enkindle new hope, confidence, heroism and enthu siasm. But these emotions can only be supported by a real or factitious consciousness of power; and whence shall the slaves of Egypt derive this feeling? Granted that he succeed in carrying them away by his persuasive eloquence for a moment, will not this flash of inspiration desert them at the first appearance of danger? Will they not, more pusillanimous than ever, relapse into their slavery? Here comes the Egyptian priest and politician to the aid of the Hebrew. From his mysteries, from his priestly school at Heliopolis, he calls to mind the powerful instrument by which an insignificant order bent to its will . millions of rude men. This instrument is no other than confidence in celestial protection, and belief in supernatural powers. Discerning nothing in the visible world, in the natural course of events, that can inspire courage in his oppressed nation, nothing terrestrial on which they may link their trust, he binds it to heaven. Giving up the hope of instilling into VOL. XX. 2 D them the feeling of their own strength, he has nothing to do but to conduct them to a God who possesses this strength. Can he but succeed in infusing trust in this Deity, he makes them strong and bold, and confidence in a higher arm is the flame at which he must kindle virtue and power. Can he but accredit himself with his brethren as the organ and ambassador of this God, they become as a ball in his hands; he can lead them as he will. But now occurs the question, What God shall he proclaim to them, and how shall he inspire them with faith? Shall he announce to them the real God, the Demiurgos, the Jao, in whom he himself believes, whom he has learned to recognize in the mysteries? How to an ignorant, slavish population, such as his nation, could he even distinctly intimate that truth which is the inheritance of a few Egyptian sages, and offered to the intellectual grasp of only an elevated rank of Illuminati? How could he flatter himself with the hope that the refuse of Egypt could understand aught of that which was barely comprehended by the best of the land? But granted that he could succeed in inspiring the Hebrews with a knowledge of the true God, they could never avail themselves of it in their situation, and the knowledge would rather undermine than forward his undertaking. The true God troubled himself no more about the Hebrews than about any other people. The true God could not contend for them, nor for their pleasure disturb the laws of nature. He would let them fight out their quarrel with the Egyptians and mingle by no miracle in the combat. What then could he avail? Shall he proclaim to them a false and fabling deity against whom his reason revolts, and whom the mysteries have rendered odious to him? For this is his understanding too enlightened, his heart too upright and noble. On a lie he will not ground his beneficent undertaking. The inspiration which now animates him will not suffer him to borrow its benevolent fire from deceit, and for such a disgraceful part, contradicted by his internal conviction, he would be deficient in zeal, in alacrity, and in perseverance. The good he purposes to achieve for his people shall be com |