restrictions leads to the free study of nature herself. We shall be confronted everywhere by evidences of the forces of the hieratism of convention opposed by the struggle to represent beauty as it is in nature, unrestrained by the trammels of tradition. And no sooner is the height of beauty in the ideal reached than it is followed by decline and degradation and the change to a completely new system, which in its turn follows the same path. Early sculptural art in Egypt seems to have possessed a considerable amount of originality and understanding of nature, bound though it was by hieratic laws, even if less rigidly than they were imposed later on. In our own history the subjection to theocratic doctrines and the imposition of traditions by priests held peremptory sway during a long succession of centuries. The emancipation began only when Gothic art was nearing its apogee, and reached absolute freedom with the triumph of the Renaissance.

Ancient Egyptian statues and statuettes, when not representing deities, are—in whatever material-without exception, portraits of individuals executed with the utmost exactness and fidelity to the prevailing characteristics and habits of life of the person whose memory it was desired to preserve. We are not called upon to follow here, in any detailed way, the manners and customs of the people. It is sufficient to remember that all these statues found in the tombs are, as it were, the 'doubles' of the deceased personage whose embalmed body lies in the decorated cartonnage case and massive sarcophagus. Briefly stated, the idea was that the spirit, separated at death from the body, required a material support of some kind for the continuance of its existence or at least some kind of local habitation. The body itself was preserved by embalming; otherwise the soul would die a second and definite death. And as the mummy itself might disappear, it was represented by one or more statues-exact representa

tions of the dead-by which life was perpetuated. We may gather, indeed, that these reproductions had to be, as far as possible, absolute facsimiles of the form of the deceased, with no concessions in the elimination of imperfect features, no attempt at the ideal, no flattery in exaggeration of beauty and expression: in short, a real body in stone or wood as the case might be, with more than photographic detail. Thus could a second himself, clothed as he was clothed, in his most accustomed attitude, wearing the insignia of his rank, or bearing the usual instruments of his occupation, take his place in the tomb as the familiar resting-place of the soul. Are they then works of art? It is a question perhaps not difficult to answer. But we may be sure that they must have been posed during life and the result of long observation. And it is because there is evidence in them of appreciation and of capability of seizing salient points and of omitting the unimportant in a masterly manner -whether intuitive or acquired by training we know not-because of this impressionism, that we should place them on so high a level. For we must not assume that the copying was so very exact and mechanical. On the contrary, the artist knew how to emphasize by exaggeration. He knew, for example, the importance of the eye, as the key to character, as the messenger of thought from the brain. We are struck at once in such statues as that of the sheik, or especially of the scribe, in that of the princess Nefert, and in all those which are really portraits, with the vitality of the head, the reality of the expression. In those in wood with which we are now particularly occupied, the size and power of the eye was heightened by means of an artificial one, an inlay of coloured marble, or some vitreous substance. The Egyptians, it is true, were in the habit of increasing the apparent size in life by the use of kohl, and the exaggeration is to be found in all their portraiture, in the admirable funeral masks and the like, and even in

the colossal granite statues which represent, if they are not strictly, portraits of the rulers. What is not to be forgotten is that it is held that our wood and other statues are older still by centuries than any of the colossi. Still, in dating them, we cannot be guided solely by our artistic perception. We are at the mercy of the Egyptologist and must accept his ruling. Otherwise we might ask for evidence of tendencies to idealization, and conclude that Egypt must have long been at the height of her civilization before her art had arrived at such a conception. And when we come to reckon with such figures as the sheik or the scribe we feel that the sculptor must have been perfectly well aware of the impossibility of translating into wood or stone that which has other qualities: that his method implied convention, that he could only succeed in conveying an impression, that all he could give was petrified life and arrested motion. The statue in wood known as the Sheik el Beled was discovered by Mariette in one of the tombs of the necropolis of Memphis. It may be taken as a type of the Egyptian of the period, but so little has this changed in the course of sixty centuries or more, that we are told that no sooner was it seen by the native workmen engaged in making the excavation, than they cried out, 'It is the sheik of the village!' And so, whoever he may have been in life, and whatever his occupation, that is now, and always will be, his designation.

A short description only will be required to supplement the illustration here given (Frontispiece). He stands solidly planted on both feet, holding with raised left hand his long staff or walking-stick, head cropped close (perhaps for the addition of a wig), fat, jolly face, rather low forehead; short, thick nose; intelligent, obedient eyes; quiet, contented smile, as if resigned to his position as a minor local official; broad shoulders; prominent, fleshy breast; hips, arms, and legs too solidly

constructed, and furnished with an indication of tremendous muscular development; long, flat feet, admirable suggestion of movement in the easy and natural pose as if stopping for the moment-that is the man known sometimes also as Ra-em-Ke, the name of the owner or inhabitant of the tomb. It is the art of the nude, and art of an advanced kind, whether of natural genius or by training. Either hypothesis is tenable.

The question of the colouring of sculpture will form later on an important section of our subject. The practice was certainly prevalent in the earliest art of Egypt, and may be briefly referred to here with regard to such figures as the one just described. It was, indeed, usual to colour men figures red or a deep reddish brown, the women yellow, more or less deep according to their lower or higher social position, representing, as it were, delicacy of complexion. Generally speaking, it may be said that in the painting of sculpture the Egyptians either had no knowledge of, or did not care for, the use of tone. It may be that they disdained an attempt at absolute imitation, and were satisfied with a conventional treatment without break or shadow. The seated scribe of the Louvre is

coloured a uniform red of equal value. His eyes, as we find also in wood figures, are formed of an opaque white quartz, in which is set the pupil of clear rock crystal, and this is again surrounded by eyebrows and eyelashes of engraved bronze. For wood, the work was covered with fine linen closely adhering by means of some colloid to every portion of the surface, and upon this was a layer of thin plaster upon which colour was applied on the same principle as in the case of stone. The system is, in fact, identical with that of the Middle Ages, and, as we shall see, described by the monk Theophilus and Cennino Cennini thousands of years later. We cannot here examine at length a number of examples, even of those in one museum

alone. It must suffice to confine our attention to a few which are typical. A fragment of a figure, as far as somewhat below the waist-probably of a slave-is also in the Cairo Museum. The head, with the hair or a wig carefully curled, is no less powerfully executed than that of the sheik. It is ascribed to the fifth dynasty. Eton College possesses a fragment of a figure representing an old slave, with completely bald head, of the time of the first Theban empire. Finally, in the museum of the Louvre is a beautiful statuette of the priestess Toui. It is of a dark polished wood, of a fine grain: of acacia, sycamore, or of the Egyptian locust-wood perhaps, for all these were used, together with ebony, sometimes plain, sometimes coloured and gilt. Of charming proportions, clothed in a thin transparent robe, she wears a magnificent thickly tressed ceremonial wig, such as we find so commonly in much earlier times. For we have arrived now at the eighteenth dynasty, two thousand years later than the scribe, and still there is no difference in style or in technique.

It is not only, however, great sculpture and figures in the round which call for attention amongst these ancient wood sculptures. There are also numberless bas-reliefs which cannot be particularized. We are compelled by limits of space to confine ourselves in the main to generalities. But there is also some quite small work which is often so fine in character that it is impossible to pass it over. These are the carved spoons for perfumes and the little toilet ornaments and utensils which are to be found in many museums. The handles of the spoons are carved with human figures and with a variety of motives of the most fascinating description. We find, for instance, in the Louvre, the graceful nude figure of a young girl swimming, and holding a waterfowl; another, walking in a lotus-grove, and gathering a bud. The Liverpool Museum possesses a delightful figurine which appears