CHAPTER VI
THE FAMILY IN THE CAIRO MUSEUM
Among the many — the far too many — masterpieces in the first
hall of the museum, where the diorite statue of Chefren stands,
there is a limestone group under glass. It is our piece: we
call it the Family. There are many other attractions, of course,
in this hall — notably the diorite statue —and, if the room con-
tained nothing else, it would be enough. But the scale of this
work, though quite approachable, makes us unable to feel for
it what we feel for the Family. The Chefren statue breathes
the air of the temple: not necessarily of that gateway of red
granite blocks where it stood with its replicas in front of the
columns to such good effect; but the air of temples generally.
It is a monument. Our Family, on the other hand, we can,
so to speak, carry about with us. The glass case is barely a
metre high; and although the group, like all others, was
destined for the purposes of the cult, it has a feeling about it
that one may without exaggeration call intimate. There are
such works. Sooner or later, for the most part, one’s frivolous
relations with them break down; works which surrender
their secret at once and yet retain their power to please are
extremely rare.
The Family belongs, moreover, to the small number of
minor pieces in this room which it is possible to see properly.
The glass case stands free. The group consists of four people
side by side, man, woman, and two sons. The man is seated;
his wife and children stand. Such groups are common in
early times. Often too, especially when there are no children
by, the wife sits beside her husband and is the same size as he.
7i
THE FAMILY IN THE CAIRO MUSEUM
Among the many — the far too many — masterpieces in the first
hall of the museum, where the diorite statue of Chefren stands,
there is a limestone group under glass. It is our piece: we
call it the Family. There are many other attractions, of course,
in this hall — notably the diorite statue —and, if the room con-
tained nothing else, it would be enough. But the scale of this
work, though quite approachable, makes us unable to feel for
it what we feel for the Family. The Chefren statue breathes
the air of the temple: not necessarily of that gateway of red
granite blocks where it stood with its replicas in front of the
columns to such good effect; but the air of temples generally.
It is a monument. Our Family, on the other hand, we can,
so to speak, carry about with us. The glass case is barely a
metre high; and although the group, like all others, was
destined for the purposes of the cult, it has a feeling about it
that one may without exaggeration call intimate. There are
such works. Sooner or later, for the most part, one’s frivolous
relations with them break down; works which surrender
their secret at once and yet retain their power to please are
extremely rare.
The Family belongs, moreover, to the small number of
minor pieces in this room which it is possible to see properly.
The glass case stands free. The group consists of four people
side by side, man, woman, and two sons. The man is seated;
his wife and children stand. Such groups are common in
early times. Often too, especially when there are no children
by, the wife sits beside her husband and is the same size as he.
7i