Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from Lepsius.
A lion and a gazelle play a game of chess. A cat of fashion, with a flower in her hair, has a disagreement with a goose: they have come to blows, and the excitable puss, who fears she will come off worst in the struggle, falls backwards in a fright. The draughtsmen having once found vent for their satire, stopped at nothing, and even royalty itself did not escape their attacks. While the writers of the day made fun of the military calling, both in prose and verse, the caricaturists parodied the combats and triumphal scenes of the Ramses or Thutmosis of the day depicted on the walls of the pylons. The Pharaoh of all the rats, perched upon a chariot drawn by dogs, bravely charges an army of cats; standing in the heroic attitude of a conqueror, he pierces them with his darts, while his horses tread the fallen underfoot; his legions meanwhile in advance of him attack a fort defended by tomcats, with the same ardour that the Egyptian battalions would display in assaulting a Syrian stronghold.
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from Lepsius.
This treatment of ethics did not prevent the Egyptian writers from giving way to their natural inclinations, and composing large volumes on this subject after the manner of Kaqîmni or Phtahhotpû. One of their books, in which the aged Ani inscribes his Instructions to his son, Khonshotpû, is compiled in the form of a dialogue, and contains the usual commonplaces upon virtue, temperance, piety, the respect due to parents from children, or to the great ones of this world from their inferiors. The language in which it is written is ingenious, picturesque, and at times eloquent; the work explains much that is obscure in Egyptian life, and upon which the monuments have thrown no light. “Beware of the woman who goes out surreptitiously in her town, do not follow her or any like her, do not expose thyself to the experience of what it costs a man to face an Ocean of which the bounds are unknown.* The wife whose husband is far from home sends thee letters, and invites thee to come to her daily when she has no witnesses; if she succeeds in entangling thee in her net, it is a crime which is punishable by death as soon as it is known, even if no wicked act has taken place, for men will commit every sort of crime when under this temptation alone.”
* I have been obliged to paraphrase the sentence
considerably to render it intelligible to the modern reader.
The Egyptian text says briefly: “Do not know the man who
braves the water of the Ocean whose bounds are unknown.“To
know the man means here know the state of the man who
does an action.
“Be not quarrelsome in breweries, for fear that thou mayest be denounced forthwith for words which have proceeded from thy mouth, and of having spoken that of which thou art no longer conscious. Thou fallest, thy members helpless, and no one holds out a hand to thee, but thy boon-companions around thee say: ‘Away with the drunkard!’ Thou art wanted for some business, and thou art found rolling on the ground like an infant.” In speaking of what a man owes to his mother, Ani waxes eloquent: “When she bore thee as all have to bear, she had in thee a heavy burden without being able to call on thee to share it. When thou wert born, after thy months were fulfilled, she placed herself under a yoke in earnest, her breast was in thy mouth for three years; in spite of the increasing dirtiness of thy habits, her heart felt no disgust, and she never said: ‘What is that I do here?’ When thou didst go to school to be instructed in writing, she followed thee every day with bread and beer from thy house. Now thou art a full-grown man, thou hast taken a wife, thou hast provided thyself with a house; bear always in mind the pains of thy birth and the care for thy education that thy mother lavished on thee, that her anger may not rise up against thee, and that she lift not her hands to God, for he will hear her complaint!” The whole of the book does not rise to this level, but we find in it several maxims which appear to be popular proverbs, as for instance: “He who hates idleness will come without being called;” “A good walker comes to his journey’s end without needing to hasten;” or, “The ox which goes at the head of the flock and leads the others to pasture is but an animal like his fellows.” Towards the end, the son Khonshotpû, weary of such a lengthy exhortation to wisdom, interrupts his father roughly: “Do not everlastingly speak of thy merits, I have heard enough of thy deeds;” whereupon Ani resignedly restrains himself from further speech, and a final parable gives us the motive of his resignation: “This is the likeness of the man who knows the strength of his arm. The nursling who is in the arms of his mother cares only for being suckled; but no sooner has he found his mouth than he cries: ‘Give me bread!’”