The power of Pharaoh and his barons rested entirely upon these two classes, the priests and the soldiers; the remainder, the commonalty and the peasantry, were, in their hands, merely an inert mass, to be taxed and subjected to forced labour at will. The slaves were probably regarded as of little importance; the bulk of the people consisted of free families who were at liberty to dispose of themselves and their goods. Every fellah and townsman in the service of the king, or of one of his great nobles, could leave his work and his village when he pleased, could pass from the domain in which he was born into a different one, and could traverse the country from one end to the other, as the Egyptians of to-day still do.
His absence entailed neither loss of goods, nor persecution of the relatives he left behind, and he himself had punishment to fear only when he left the Nile Valley without permission, to reside for some time in a foreign land.* But although this independence and liberty were in accordance with the laws and customs of the land, yet they gave rise to inconveniences from which it was difficult to escape in practical life. Every Egyptian, the King excepted, was obliged, in order to get on in life, to depend on one more powerful than himself, whom he called his master. The feudal lord was proud to recognize Pharaoh as his master, and he himself was master of the soldiers and priests in his own petty state.
* The treaty between Ramses and the Prince of Khiti contains
a formal extradition clause in reference to Egyptians or
Hittites, who had quitted their native country, of course
without the permission of their sovereign. The two
contracting parties expressly stipulate that persons
extradited on one side or the other shall not be punished
for having emigrated, that their property is not to be
confiscated, nor are their families to be held responsible
for their flight. From this clause it follows that in
ordinary times unauthorized emigration brought upon the
culprit corporal punishment and the confiscation of his
goods, as well as various penalties on his family. The way
in which Sinûhît makes excuses for his flight, the fact of
his asking pardon before returning to Egypt, the very terms
of the letter in which the king recalls him and assures him
of impunity, show us that the laws against emigration were
in full force under the XIIth dynasty.
** The expressions which bear witness to this fact are very
numerous: Miri nîbûf = “He who loves his master;” Aqû hâîti
ni nîbûf = “He who enters into the heart of his master,” etc.
They recur so frequently in the texts in the case of persons
of all ranks, that it was thought no importance ought to be
attached to them. But the constant repetition of the word
NIB, “master,” shows that we must alter this view, and give
these phrases their full meaning.
From the top to the bottom of the social scale every free man acknowledged a master, who secured to him justice and protection in exchange for his obedience and fealty. The moment an Egyptian tried to withdraw himself from this subjection, the peace of his life was at an end; he became a man without a master, and therefore without a recognized protector.*
* The expression, “a man without a master,” occurs several
times in the Berlin Papyrus, No. ii. For instance, the
peasant who is the hero of the story, says of the lord
Mirûitensi, that he is “the rudder of heaven, the guide of
the earth, the balance which carries the offerings, the
buttress of tottering walls, the support of that which
falls, the great master who takes whoever is without a
master to lavish on him the goods of his house, a jug of
beer and three loaves” each day.
Any one might stop him on the way, steal his cattle, merchandise, or property on the most trivial pretext, and if he attempted to protest, might beat him with almost certain impunity.
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from the tomb of Khîti at Beni-
Hasan. These are soldiers of the nome of Gazelle.
The only resource of the victim was to sit at the gate of the palace, waiting to appeal for justice till the lord or the king should appear. If by chance, after many rebuffs, his humble petition were granted, it was only the beginning of fresh troubles. Even if the justice of the cause were indisputable, the fact that he was a man without home or master inspired his judges with an obstinate mistrust, and delayed the satisfaction of his claims. In vain he followed his judges with his complaints and flatteries, chanting their virtues in every key: “Thou art the father of the unfortunate, the husband of the widow, the brother of the orphan, the clothing of the motherless: enable me to proclaim thy name as a law throughout the land. Good lord, guide without caprice, great without littleness, thou who destroyest falsehood and causest truth to be, come at the words of my mouth; I speak, listen and do justice. O generous one, generous of the generous, destroy the cause of my trouble; here I am, uplift me; judge me, for behold me a suppliant before thee.” If he were an eloquent speaker and the judge were inclined to listen, he was willingly heard, but his cause made no progress, and delays, counted on by his adversary, effected his ruin. The religious law, no doubt, prescribed equitable treatment for all devotees of Osiris, and condemned the slightest departure from justice as one of the gravest sins, even in the case of a great noble, or in that of the king himself; but how could impartiality be shown when the one was the recognized protector, the “master” of the culprit, while the plaintiff was a vagabond, attached to no one, “a man without a master”!