DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5538#0154
13i PHARAOHS, FELLAHS, AND EXPLORERS.
which was the earliest; the Twelfth Dynasty school, the
Theban school, the Sai'te school, and some minor schools of
less note. The rise and fall of these various schools mark
a succession of decadences and renaissances of art, each
renaissance being distinguished by its own special charac-
teristics. All these schools, all these renaissances, had, nev-
ertheless, one essential principle in common: they were
primarily exponents of the religious idea. In the hands of
the sculptor and the painter, the gods were made manifest
to the eyes of their worshippers; the terrors of Hades and
the delights of Elysium were depicted with curious minute-
ness of detail; and the art of portraiture continued to be,
from first to last, the concrete expression of one of the most
singular, obscure, and fantastic religious beliefs which was
ever inculcated by a priesthood, or by which the mind of a
people was influenced. For every sculptured statue, every
painted portrait, whether of a living person or of a dead per-
son, was regarded as a supplementary body dedicated to the
service of the Ka.
And this strange dogma which we have traced from its
earliest known beginning's, four thousand years before the
Christian era, retained its hold upon the minds of the Egyp-
tians, and continued to be enforced as a cardinal article of
faith by the Egyptian priesthood, till the abolition of the
ancient national religion by the edict of Theodosius, a.d. 379.
One of the most surprising facts by which we are con-
fronted when beginning the study of ancient Egyptian por-
trait sculpture is the immense superiority of the earliest
school, when compared with the schools of later periods. It
is in this respect that the history of art in the Valley of the
Nile differs most strikingly from the history of art in any
other country of the ancient world. When we speak, for
instance, of an archaic Greek statue, we mean by implication
a stiff figure with a vacant expression of face, eyes set aslant,
a meaningless smile, rigid limbs, and muscles abnormally de-
veloped. But when we speak of an Egyptian statue of the
time of the Ancient Empire—that is to say, of the most ar-
which was the earliest; the Twelfth Dynasty school, the
Theban school, the Sai'te school, and some minor schools of
less note. The rise and fall of these various schools mark
a succession of decadences and renaissances of art, each
renaissance being distinguished by its own special charac-
teristics. All these schools, all these renaissances, had, nev-
ertheless, one essential principle in common: they were
primarily exponents of the religious idea. In the hands of
the sculptor and the painter, the gods were made manifest
to the eyes of their worshippers; the terrors of Hades and
the delights of Elysium were depicted with curious minute-
ness of detail; and the art of portraiture continued to be,
from first to last, the concrete expression of one of the most
singular, obscure, and fantastic religious beliefs which was
ever inculcated by a priesthood, or by which the mind of a
people was influenced. For every sculptured statue, every
painted portrait, whether of a living person or of a dead per-
son, was regarded as a supplementary body dedicated to the
service of the Ka.
And this strange dogma which we have traced from its
earliest known beginning's, four thousand years before the
Christian era, retained its hold upon the minds of the Egyp-
tians, and continued to be enforced as a cardinal article of
faith by the Egyptian priesthood, till the abolition of the
ancient national religion by the edict of Theodosius, a.d. 379.
One of the most surprising facts by which we are con-
fronted when beginning the study of ancient Egyptian por-
trait sculpture is the immense superiority of the earliest
school, when compared with the schools of later periods. It
is in this respect that the history of art in the Valley of the
Nile differs most strikingly from the history of art in any
other country of the ancient world. When we speak, for
instance, of an archaic Greek statue, we mean by implication
a stiff figure with a vacant expression of face, eyes set aslant,
a meaningless smile, rigid limbs, and muscles abnormally de-
veloped. But when we speak of an Egyptian statue of the
time of the Ancient Empire—that is to say, of the most ar-