The Child in Human Progress

by George Henry Payne

“I have never seen a blacksmith on an embassy,” so runs the complaint of the proletariat 3000 years before Christ,—“nor a smelter sent on a mission—but what I have seen is the metal worker at his toil,—at the mouth of the furnace of his forge,—his fingers as rugged as the crocodile, and stinking more than fish-spawn. The artisan of any kind who handles the chisel, does not employ so much movement as he who handles the hoe; but for him his fields are the timber, his business is the metal, and at night when the other is free,—he, he works with his hands over and above what he has already done, for at night, he works at home by the lamp. The stone-cutter who seeks his living by working in all kinds of durable stone, when at last he has earned something, and his two arms are worn out, he stops; but if at sunrise he remain sitting, his legs are tied to his back. The barber who shaves until the evening, when he falls to and eats, it is without sitting down—while running from street to street to seek custom; if he is constant (at work) his two arms fill his belly, as the bee eats in proportion to its toil. Shall I tell thee of the mason—how he endures misery? Exposed to all the winds—while he builds without any garment but a belt—and while the bunch of lotus-flowers (which is fixed) on the (completed) houses—is still far out of his reach—his two arms are worn out with work; his provisions are placed higgledy piggledy amongst his refuse, he consumes himself, for he has no other bread than his fingers, and he becomes wearied all at once. He is much and dreadfully exhausted—for there is (always) a block (to be dragged) in this or that building, a block of ten cubits by six,—there is (always) a block (to be dragged) in this or that month (as far as the) scaffolding poles (to which is fixed) the bunch of lotus-flowers on the (completed) houses. When the work is quite finished, if he has bread, he returns home, and his children have been beaten unmercifully (during his absence). The weaver within doors is worse off there than a woman; squatting, his knees against his chest,—he does not breathe. If during the day he slackens weaving, he is bound fast to the lotuses of the lake; and it is by giving bread to the doorkeeper, that the latter permits him to see the light. The dyer, his fingers reeking—and their smell is that of fish-spawn;—his two eyes are oppressed with fatigue, his hand does not stop,—and, as he spends his time in cutting out rags—he has a hatred of garments. The shoemaker is very unfortunate; he moans ceaselessly, his health is the health of the spawning fish, and he gnaws the leather. The baker makes dough, subjects the loaves to the fire; while his head is inside the oven, his son holds him by the legs; if he slips from the hands of his son, he falls there into the flames.”[147]

The matriarchal tendencies of the Egyptian Government also account for the fact that children, as a rule, were not only allowed to live but were better treated than they were among other peoples. Even the first Egyptians, although semi-savages like those inhabiting Africa and America, were different in their attitude toward women to such an extent that the Greeks were led into believing that in Egypt the woman was supreme. The husband entered the house of the wife instead of the wife entering his[148] and this led to the children recognizing the parental relation through the mother alone.

To this matriarchal tendency may also be attributed the activity of Maskonit, the god who appeared at the child’s cradle at the very moment of its birth, and Raninit, who gave him his name and saw that he was properly nursed. With two such deities in the list of gods, obviously the creations of women and hardly those of semi-savage men, it was evident that the women were using their best supernatural means to protect childhood. Significant, too, may be the fact that these protecting deities were goddesses, for, as may be seen from the story of the ill-fated prince,[149]—there was always a chance that either the crocodile, the serpent, or the dog, might get the infant. In the possibility of death by either of the three, there was the memory of days when mothers were either less careful or had not much authority.

GROUP OF M’AYPTAH, THE PRIEST OF PTAH, WITH HIS FAMILY
(REPRODUCED FROM “LIFE IN ANCIENT EGYPT”)

Such knowledge as we have of the kings of the Fifth Dynasty indicates that they were builders, but it was during this dynasty, in the reign of Tetka-Ra (about 3366 B. C.), that what has been described as the oldest book in the world, the Precepts of Ptah-Hotep, was written. In this remarkable document the first care of the author after a stirring picture of old age, for it is evident that Ptah-Hotep wrote in his old age, is to enjoin those who read, that by following in the ways of the fathers, the children will prosper. All through there are, as M. Chabas pointed out, evidences that it furnished the basis for many of the later injunctions of the Hebrews in regard to filial obedience:

“Bring up your son in obedience.”

“The son who receives the word of his father will live to be old because of it.”