.]

[Illustration: Fig. 193.--The Kneeling Scribe, Old Empire.]

[Illustration: Fig. 194.--A Bread-maker, Old Empire.]

Turning to the "Sheikh el Beled" (figs. 188, 191), we descend several
degrees in the social scale. Raemka was a "superintendent of works," which
probably means that he was an overseer of corvee labour at the time of
building the great pyramids. He belonged to the middle class; and his whole
person expresses vulgar contentment and self-satisfaction. We seem to see
him in the act of watching his workmen, his staff of acacia wood in his
hand. The feet of the statue had perished, but have been restored. The body
is stout and heavy, and the neck thick. The head (fig. 191), despite its
vulgarity, does not lack energy. The eyes are inserted, like those of the
"Cross-legged Scribe." By a curious coincidence, the statue, which was
found at Sakkarah, happened to be strikingly like the local Sheikh el
Beled, or head-man, of the village. Always quick to seize upon the amusing
side of an incident, the Arab diggers at once called it the "Sheikh el
Beled," and it has retained the name ever since. The statue of his wife,
interred beside his own, is unfortunately mutilated. It is a mere trunk,
without legs or arms (fig. 192); yet enough remains to show that the figure
represented a good type of the Egyptian middle-class matron, commonplace in
appearance and somewhat acid of temper. The "Kneeling Scribe" of the Gizeh
collection (fig. 193) belongs to the lowest middle-class rank, such as it
is at the present day. Had he not been dead more than six thousand years, I
could protest that I had not long ago met him face to face, in one of the
little towns of Upper Egypt. He has just brought a roll of papyrus, or a
tablet covered with writing, for his master's approval. Kneeling in the
prescribed attitude of an inferior, his hands crossed, his shoulders
rounded, his head slightly bent forward, he waits till the great man shall
have read it through. Of what is he thinking? A scribe might feel some not
unreasonable apprehensions, when summoned thus into the presence of his
superior. The stick played a prominent part in official life, and an error
of addition, a fault in orthography, or an order misunderstood, would be
enough to bring down a shower of blows. The sculptor has, with inimitable
skill, seized that expression of resigned uncertainty and passive
gentleness which is the result of a whole life of servitude. There is a
s