DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0141
THE MIDDLE KINGDOM
as if we must imagine a sort of red terror like that which
ushered in the Bolshevik regime. Not only special rights
were cancelled, but every right; there were no more laws.
Rape and plunder prevailed; the rich went begging and the
poor lay on silken pillows. ‘The men of yesterday’ were no
more. Enemies had crept in and arrogance reigned supreme.
Brother against brother, father against son; murder was on
every hand and the Nile flowed with blood.
Many mutilations of earlier statues date from this period;
from their desolate look we can imagine the frenzy of the
revolutionary. No image of the old order must remain. The
tornado must have been an orgy of destruction, and can
hardly be explained as an emancipation of the great noble
families from the power of the king — the usual account of
the movement accepted by authority. It throws a shadow
over the past.
The long spaces of time with which we reckon Egyptian
history incline us to make out that the national temper was
equable, an idea which is supported by the indolence of the
present population. The tone of early Egyptian art contra-
dicts it; the driving power which produced the masterpieces
of the Old Kingdom must have been of an exceptional order.
No art that rises above mere ornament thrives on a slow
pulse; and the saying that associates repose with the Muses
cannot be called profound. Naturally work stops when the
workshop is set on fire; but the repose of the works which
date from the early dynasties does not point to any lethargy
of the instincts. Art is transformation. People who dream
of a golden age never have it, could not have it even if such
paradisiac circumstances were credible on earth. To evoke
such an idea, obstacles must keep the creator on the move.
I do not say: bad luck to him! The creator is always lucky.
But he must be firmly in touch with the relative to be able
to turn it into the absolute. Movement and emotion go with
it — movement which keeps watch, steels the senses and
I25
as if we must imagine a sort of red terror like that which
ushered in the Bolshevik regime. Not only special rights
were cancelled, but every right; there were no more laws.
Rape and plunder prevailed; the rich went begging and the
poor lay on silken pillows. ‘The men of yesterday’ were no
more. Enemies had crept in and arrogance reigned supreme.
Brother against brother, father against son; murder was on
every hand and the Nile flowed with blood.
Many mutilations of earlier statues date from this period;
from their desolate look we can imagine the frenzy of the
revolutionary. No image of the old order must remain. The
tornado must have been an orgy of destruction, and can
hardly be explained as an emancipation of the great noble
families from the power of the king — the usual account of
the movement accepted by authority. It throws a shadow
over the past.
The long spaces of time with which we reckon Egyptian
history incline us to make out that the national temper was
equable, an idea which is supported by the indolence of the
present population. The tone of early Egyptian art contra-
dicts it; the driving power which produced the masterpieces
of the Old Kingdom must have been of an exceptional order.
No art that rises above mere ornament thrives on a slow
pulse; and the saying that associates repose with the Muses
cannot be called profound. Naturally work stops when the
workshop is set on fire; but the repose of the works which
date from the early dynasties does not point to any lethargy
of the instincts. Art is transformation. People who dream
of a golden age never have it, could not have it even if such
paradisiac circumstances were credible on earth. To evoke
such an idea, obstacles must keep the creator on the move.
I do not say: bad luck to him! The creator is always lucky.
But he must be firmly in touch with the relative to be able
to turn it into the absolute. Movement and emotion go with
it — movement which keeps watch, steels the senses and
I25