DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5253#0036
4 EGYPTIAN SCULPTURE.
As the traveller on the banks of the Nile gazes at the majestic ruins of
Thebes, her prostrate temple columns, pylons rent asunder, and shattered
colossi, seem once more to stand up, and speak of the glories of that age when
Egypt was the conqueror of the world ; when beneath the magic wand of those
arbiters of her destinies, the Thothmes, the Amenophs, and the Rameses,
these wonders of architecture and sculpture sprang into existence. If we could,
in imagination, build up these countless and vast structures, people them with
their statues, line them throughout with reliefs, and then, with the painter's
brush, charm back their former brilliancy of color; if we could see the obelisk,
shining with gold; the broad avenue of silent sphinxes, through which passed
the stately procession; the priests performing their gorgeous rites before the
sacred images; and if we could picture the fertile Nile valley, with its over-
hanging canopy of blue, and the unbroken sweep of the distant mountains, —
we should then be able to gain an impression of the part that sculpture played
there, its impressive forms harmonizing with the grand repose of the landscape,
and its colossal proportions witnessing to the ambition of mighty Pharaohs.
The Nile valley, running north and south through the entire length of
Egypt, for three-quarters of the distance does not at the utmost exceed fifteen
miles in width ; and, in some of the southern districts, the mountains on the
east, the Arab chain, approach the Western, or Libyan range, so closely, as to
form a narrow defile.1 Farther to the north, the Libyan heights sink so
decidedly as to admit the passage of a large canal, which supplied the vast
reservoir known to the admiring Greeks as Lake Mosris, and served to irrigate
the province now called Fayoom. In Lower Egypt, not far from the ruins of
ancient Memphis, the Nile finally separates into two branches; the one called
the Rosetta finding its way to the sea in a north-westerly direction, and the
other, the Damietta, taking a north-easterly course. The five other outlets
known to antiquity have long been choked by the annual deposits of the river ;
but, as of old, artificial canals still intersect the broad plain of the Delta.
Along this valley, how striking the contrast between the stream with its
closely clinging belt of verdure, and the barren cliffs with the shifting, smother-
ing, desert sands, stretching away to the right and left! But in June the
waters, as by magic, slowly begin to swell, although no rain has fallen in Egypt.
The dams are opened in due course of time, and the eager waters flood the
parched land up to the very base of the mountains. At this time the country
appears like a lake, out of which cities and mounds rise like islands. Cheery
scenes accompany this season of annual overflow. Busy boats ply about ; the
populace, young and old, and herds, stand or wade in the grateful waters; fish
dart and plash ; while flocks of birds watch for their finny prey. After the
waters recede, a rich loam is found deposited over the whole land : a light
plough easily opens this soft, warm soil; in it the scattered seed rapidly germi-
nates, the plant comes to fruition, and the barren land is changed to a paradise.2
As the traveller on the banks of the Nile gazes at the majestic ruins of
Thebes, her prostrate temple columns, pylons rent asunder, and shattered
colossi, seem once more to stand up, and speak of the glories of that age when
Egypt was the conqueror of the world ; when beneath the magic wand of those
arbiters of her destinies, the Thothmes, the Amenophs, and the Rameses,
these wonders of architecture and sculpture sprang into existence. If we could,
in imagination, build up these countless and vast structures, people them with
their statues, line them throughout with reliefs, and then, with the painter's
brush, charm back their former brilliancy of color; if we could see the obelisk,
shining with gold; the broad avenue of silent sphinxes, through which passed
the stately procession; the priests performing their gorgeous rites before the
sacred images; and if we could picture the fertile Nile valley, with its over-
hanging canopy of blue, and the unbroken sweep of the distant mountains, —
we should then be able to gain an impression of the part that sculpture played
there, its impressive forms harmonizing with the grand repose of the landscape,
and its colossal proportions witnessing to the ambition of mighty Pharaohs.
The Nile valley, running north and south through the entire length of
Egypt, for three-quarters of the distance does not at the utmost exceed fifteen
miles in width ; and, in some of the southern districts, the mountains on the
east, the Arab chain, approach the Western, or Libyan range, so closely, as to
form a narrow defile.1 Farther to the north, the Libyan heights sink so
decidedly as to admit the passage of a large canal, which supplied the vast
reservoir known to the admiring Greeks as Lake Mosris, and served to irrigate
the province now called Fayoom. In Lower Egypt, not far from the ruins of
ancient Memphis, the Nile finally separates into two branches; the one called
the Rosetta finding its way to the sea in a north-westerly direction, and the
other, the Damietta, taking a north-easterly course. The five other outlets
known to antiquity have long been choked by the annual deposits of the river ;
but, as of old, artificial canals still intersect the broad plain of the Delta.
Along this valley, how striking the contrast between the stream with its
closely clinging belt of verdure, and the barren cliffs with the shifting, smother-
ing, desert sands, stretching away to the right and left! But in June the
waters, as by magic, slowly begin to swell, although no rain has fallen in Egypt.
The dams are opened in due course of time, and the eager waters flood the
parched land up to the very base of the mountains. At this time the country
appears like a lake, out of which cities and mounds rise like islands. Cheery
scenes accompany this season of annual overflow. Busy boats ply about ; the
populace, young and old, and herds, stand or wade in the grateful waters; fish
dart and plash ; while flocks of birds watch for their finny prey. After the
waters recede, a rich loam is found deposited over the whole land : a light
plough easily opens this soft, warm soil; in it the scattered seed rapidly germi-
nates, the plant comes to fruition, and the barren land is changed to a paradise.2