The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient EgyptPrus, Bolesław
History
The Pharaoh and the Priest: An Historical Novel of Ancient Egypt
Prus, Bolesław
Egypt -- History -- To 332 B.C. -- Fiction
His past life, taken up with amusements, roused in him aversion, and
the disbelief which he had acquired amid foreigners and dissolute
youth filled him with dread in that interval. And if that day the
choice had been given him to take either the throne or the priestly
office, he would have hesitated.
A certain day the great prophet of the temple summoned the prince, and
reminded him that he had not entered for prayers exclusively, but to
learn wisdom. The prophet praised his devotion, declared that he was
purified then from worldly foulness, and commanded him to become
acquainted with the schools connected with that temple.
Rather through obedience than curiosity, the prince went directly from
him to the interior court, where the department of reading and writing
was situated.
That was a great hall, lighted through an opening in the roof. On mats
some tens of naked pupils were seated holding wax tablets in their
hands. One wall was of smooth alabaster; before it stood a teacher who
wrote characters with chalks of various colors.
When the prince entered, the pupils, almost all of the same age that
he was, fell on their faces. The teacher bowed, and stopped his actual
labor to explain to the youths the great meaning of knowledge.
"My beloved," said he, "a man who has no heart for wisdom must occupy
himself with handwork and torment his eyesight. But he who understands
the worth of knowledge and forms himself accordingly may gain all
kinds of power and every court office. Remember this.[10]
[10] Authentic.
"Look at the wretched fate of men unacquainted with writing. A smith
is black and grimy, his hands are full of lumps, and he toils night
and day all his lifetime. The quarryman pulls his arms out to satisfy
his stomach. The mason while forming a capital in lotus shape is
hurled off by wind from the scaffold. A weaver has bent knees, a maker
of weapons is ever travelling: barely does he come to his house in the
evening when he must leave it. The fingers of a wall painter smell
disagreeably, and his time passes in trimming up trifles. The courier
when taking farewell of his family must leave a will, for he may have
to meet wild beasts or Asiatics.
"I have shown you the lot of men of various labors, for I wish you to
love writing, which is your mother, and now I will present to you its
beauties. It is not an empty word on earth, it is the most important
of all occupations. He who makes use of writing is respected from
childhood; he accomplishes every great mission. But he who takes no
part in it lives on in wretchedness. School sciences are as difficult
as mountains, but one day of them lasts through eternity. So learn
quickly and you will love them. The scribe has a princely position;
his pen and his book win him wealth and acceptance."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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