Part 2
Belzoni, whose name must be fresh in the recollection of most people, went to Egypt in 1815, intending to propose to the Pasha some improved mechanical contrivances for raising water from the river in order to irrigate the fields. Owing to various obstacles this scheme did not succeed, and Belzoni determined to pay a visit to Upper Egypt to see the wonderful remains of its temples. Mr. Salt, then British Consul in Egypt, and Lewis Burckhardt, commissioned Belzoni to bring this colossal head from Thebes. Belzoni went up the river, and landing at Thebes found the statue exactly in the place where the Consul’s instructions described it to be[2]. It was lying “near the remains of its body and chair, with its face upwards, and apparently smiling on me at the thought of being taken to England. I must say that my expectations were exceeded by its beauty, but not by its size. I observed that it must have been absolutely the same statue as is mentioned by Norden, lying in his time with the face downwards, which must have been the cause of its preservation. I will not venture to assert who separated the bust from the rest of the body, by an explosion, or by whom the bust has been turned face upwards.”
It will be observed that the left shoulder of this figure is shattered, and that there is a large hole drilled in the right shoulder. We believe both are the work of the French who visited Thebes during the occupation of Egypt by the French army in 1800; and there is no doubt that Belzoni in the above extract means to attribute to them the separation of the head and shoulders from the rest of the body. In the magnificent work on Egyptian Antiquities, which has been published at Paris, there is a drawing of this head, which is pretty correct, except that the hole and the whole _right_ shoulder are wanting. It seems that they drew the colossal bust in that form which it would have assumed, had they blown off the right shoulder. From what cause it happened we do not know, but they left the colossus behind them; and Belzoni, alone and unaided, accomplished what the French had unsuccessfully attempted.
All the implements that Belzoni had for removing this colossus were fourteen poles, eight of which were employed in making a car for the colossus, four ropes of palm-leaves, four rollers, and no tackle of any description. With these sorry implements and such wretched workmen as the place could produce, he contrived to move the colossus from the ruins where it lay to the banks of the Nile, a distance considerably more than a mile. But it was a no less difficult task to place the colossus on board a boat, the bank of the river being “more than fifteen feet above the level of the water, which had retired at least a hundred feet from it.” This, however, was effected by making a sloping causeway, along which the heavy mass descended slowly till it came to the lower part, where, by means of four poles, a kind of bridge was made, having one end resting on the centre parts of the boat and the other on the inclined plane. Thus the colossus was moved into the boat without any danger of tilting it over by pressing too much on one side.
From Thebes it was carried down the river to Rosetta and thence to Alexandria, a distance of more than 400 miles: from the latter place it was embarked for England.
The material of this colossus is a fine-grained granite, which is found in the quarries near the southern boundary of Egypt, from which masses of enormous size may be procured free from any split or fracture. These quarries supplied the Egyptians with the principal materials for their colossal statues and obelisks, some of which in an unfinished form may still be seen in the granite quarries of Assouan. There is considerable variety in the qualities of this granite, as we may see from the specimens in the Museum, some of which consist of much larger component parts than others, and in different proportions; yet all of them admit a fine polish. The colossal head, No. 8, opposite to the Memnon, and No. 2, commonly called an altar, will serve to explain our meaning.
This Memnon’s bust consists of one piece of stone, of two different colours, of which the sculptor has judiciously applied the red part to form the face. Though there is a style of sculpture which we may properly call Egyptian as distinguished from and inferior to the Greek, and though this statue clearly belongs to this Egyptian style, it surpasses as a work of art most other statues from that country by a peculiar sweetness of expression and a finer outline of face. Though the eyebrows are hardly prominent enough for our taste, the nose somewhat too rounded, and the lips rather thick, it is impossible to deny that there is great beauty stamped on the countenance. Its profile, when viewed from various points, will probably show some new beauties to those only accustomed to look at it in front.
The position of the ear in all Egyptian statues that we have had an opportunity of observing is very peculiar, being always too high; and the ear itself is rather large. We might almost infer that there was some national peculiarity in this member from seeing it so invariably placed in the same singular position. The appendage to the chin is common in Egyptian colossal statues, and is undoubtedly intended to mark the beard, the symbol of manhood: and it may be observed not only on numerous statues, but also on painted reliefs, where we frequently see it projecting from the end of the chin and not attached to the breast, but slightly curved upwards. Osiris, one of the great objects of Egyptian adoration, is often thus represented; but the beard is generally only attached to the _clothed_ figure, being, for the most part, but not always, omitted on naked ones. The colossal figures, No. 8 and 38, have both lost their beards. There is a colossal head in the Museum, No. 57, that is peculiar in having the upper margin of the beard represented by incisions on the chin after the fashion of Greek bearded statues. It is the only instance we have seen, either in reality or in any drawing, of a colossus with a genuine beard.
There is more variety in the head-dresses of colossal statues than in their beards. No. 8, opposite the Memnon, has the high cap which occurs very often on Egyptian _standing_ colossi which are placed with their backs to pilasters. No. 38 has the flat cap fitting close to the head and descending behind, very much like the pigtails once in fashion. The Memnon head-dress differs from both of these, and has given rise to discussions, called learned, into which we cannot enter here.
On the forehead of this colossus may be seen the remains of the erect serpent, the emblem of royalty, which always indicates a deity or a royal personage. This erect serpent may be traced on various monuments of the Museum, and perhaps occurs more frequently than any single sculptured object.
Our limits prevent us from going into other details, but we have perhaps said enough to induce some of our readers to look more carefully at this curious specimen of Egyptian art; and to examine the rest of the ornamental parts. The following are some of the principal dimensions:--
ft. in. The whole height of the bust from the top of the 8 9 head-dress to the lowest part of the fragment, measured behind Round the shoulders and breast, above 15 3 Height of the head from the upper part of the 6 0½ head-dress to the end of the beard From the forehead to the chin 3 3½
Judging from these dimensions, the figure in its entire state would be about 24 feet high as seated on its chair; which is about half the height of the _real_ Memnon, who still sits majestic on his ancient throne, and throws his long shadow at sun-rise over the plain of Thebes.
[Illustration: Side view of the Younger Memnon.]
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Footnote 2:
Belzoni’s Narrative. London, 1820, p. 39.
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THE FLUTE-PLAYER;
A TALE.
“Oh! bless’d with temper, whose unclouded ray Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day! She who ne’er answers till a husband cools, Or if she rules him, never shows she rules; Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, Yet has her humour most when she obeys.”--POPE.
Harry Jones was one of the smartest young men of the village in which he was born. His parents were industrious and contented; and he himself was of that active and cheerful disposition which derives a pleasure from habitual employment, and requires no excitement of vice or folly in the hours of leisure. Harry Jones was by trade a cabinet-maker. He was a skilful and ingenious workman, and his master delighted to exhibit the tables and drawers which Harry manufactured, as the best specimens of his workshop. He lived in a small town to which the refinement of large societies was almost entirely unknown. On a summer evening he might be distinguished on a neighbouring green as the best bowler at cricket; and at the annual revel he could try a fall with any lad of the surrounding villages. But his chief delight was his proficiency as a flute-player. He made himself master of the newest country-dances; and occasionally astonished his friends with some more elaborate piece of harmony, which required considerable science and taste in its execution. He was a distinguished member of the band of volunteer performers at his parish church; and had several times received the praises of the clergyman for the skill with which he regulated the less practised abilities of his companions. All these recreations were in themselves innocent: and Harry Jones had sufficient sense and virtue not to permit them to divert his attention from the duties of his occupation, nor to make him forget that life had more important objects than the pursuit even of sinless amusement.
By his industry and frugality, Harry, at the age of five and twenty, had saved a little money. His master was kind and liberal towards him, and having himself other occupations to attend to, resigned his little interest as a cabinet-maker to the hero of our story. Harry became, if possible, more assiduous; he did not want friends and customers, and there was a particular object which gave an additional spur to his industry; he naturally and properly desired a wife as soon as he had acquired the means of maintaining one. In a neighbouring village he had formed an acquaintance with a young woman, who possessed those excellences which strongly recommended themselves to the prudential part of his character. Her parents were honest and pious people, who had brought up their daughter with the strictest attention to economy, and with those habits of regularity which assign to every duty an exact time and place for its fulfilment. These habits of order and punctuality had become a second nature to Martha. She would not allow herself to deviate from the prescribed path, nor could she endure any deviation in those by whom she was surrounded. She had a sincere and affectionate heart; but this precision had given something of coldness and formality to her character. Harry, with the fondness of a lover’s eyes, saw every thing to admire; he considered that her seriousness would properly regulate his cheerfulness, and that the strict discipline which she exercised over her own actions would control his inclination for hasty and various modes of occupation. He was satisfied that he could not make a more prudent choice, and the world thought so also. They married.
At the end of the first fortnight after their union, Harry sat down by his evening fireside exceedingly fatigued; he felt incapable of exertion, and remained for some time listless and dispirited. Martha began to read aloud from a serious book;--but she did not choose the most favourable moment for making a proper impression: Harry yawned and almost fell asleep. Martha laid down her book, and recommended him to look over his accounts: with every disposition to do right and oblige his wife, Harry felt that the labours of the day were past. He thought of his flute. The sense of fatigue was at once forgotten, as he again placed his old book of tunes before him. He played his briskest jigs--but Martha did not beat time: he tried his most pathetic airs--but Martha remained unmoved. He discovered to his mortification that his wife did not love music.
The next evening Harry did not forget the recreation of his flute; he played in his very best style, and he appealed to Martha for encouragement and approbation. Her praise was of a very negative quality. Sunday came, and Harry, as usual, took his place in the music gallery; he put forth all his powers, and exercised no common address to make his associates play in tune. As they walked home he ventured to ask Martha what she thought of their little band. She answered in a tone between indifference and contempt. His pride was hurt, and he determined to say no more upon the subject.
The flute continued to be produced every evening, and Harry ceased to expect the praise, or ask the attention of his wife. But even this indifference did not long continue. On one occasion he observed something like a frown upon her brow; on another, he heard a pettish expression pronounced in a whispered and hurried tone. At length hostility was openly declared against the flute; and Martha wondered how a man of any sense could waste his time, and annoy his family by such a stupid pursuit.
Harry bore this exceedingly well; for the love of his wife came to the aid of his naturally good temper. He locked up the flute. But he was disappointed in expecting Martha would offer him any substitute for his favourite amusement after his hours of labour. Her notions were those of rigid and unsparing industry. She was never tired of her domestic occupations, and she could not understand how a man who had his living to get could ever tire in the pursuit of his calling. When the hour of work was over, Harry sat down in his little parlour,--but his wife was seldom with him. It was true that the boards of his house were cleaner than the floor of any of his neighbours;--that the saucepans of his kitchen shone with a brightness which all the good housewives of the parish envied;--and that not a cinder deformed the neatness of his hearth without calling forth the brush and the shovel for its instant removal. But then it was also true that he sometimes caught cold at his dinner-hour, from the wetness which the floor acquired from the indefatigable cleanliness of his mate; that he sometimes made a fatal error when he forgot to clean his shoes before he crossed the sanded threshold; that while his wife was rubbing the skillets into looking-glasses, he was desirous of the conversation of a friend and companion; and that his well-swept hearth had no charms for his eyes while he was left alone to enjoy its neatness. He was debarred too of his favourite flute;--and it cannot therefore be wondered that he sometimes said in his heart, “why did I marry?”
It was at this juncture that Harry met with an old companion who had something of the vivacity, but nothing of the goodness which he himself possessed. Harry appeared uneasy and dispirited;--the cause of his discomfort was at length communicated. His companion told him, with the common cant of libertines, that the way to make wives amiable was to neglect them;--that his home was uncomfortable because he appeared too fond of it;--and that he might find society where his merits would be properly rated. Harry was persuaded to fetch his flute, to spend the evening at a neighbouring ale-house.
The harmless vanity which had been so long pent up now broke forth beyond its natural boundaries. Harry played well, and he played to a late hour, for he was flattered and caressed. On his return home, Martha was angry, and he was sullen.
The next night brought with it the same temptation. What was intended to be a rare indulgence at length became a confirmed habit. The public-house could not be frequented without expense; and late hours could not be kept without diminishing the capacity for the performance of ordinary duties. Harry, too, acquired the practice of drinking freely; and, as his mind was ill at ease, the morning draught often succeeded to the evening’s intoxication. He was not, as before, seen constantly at his workshop, to receive orders with good temper, and to execute them with alacrity. He was not distinguished for the brightest shoes and the cleanest apron of any mechanic in the town: his habits were idle, and his garb was slovenly. He slunk away from public observation to bury himself in the haunts of drunkenness and profligacy. As his business failed, he made to himself pretences for employment in vagabond parties of anglers or lark-shooters. One by one every article of furniture was pawned for present support. The fatal flute was the last thing consigned to the grasp of the money-lender.
Martha did not want sense. She reflected deeply upon the causes of their misery; and she at length perceived the error which she had committed in opposing her own fixed habits to the equally confirmed inclinations of her husband. She took her resolution. Honestly and impartially she stated her distresses, and the cause of them, to the vicar of the parish. He was a pious, a sensible, and a charitable pastor. He pointed out to her, what she herself at length acknowledged, that a small portion of time devoted to an innocent amusement is not incompatible with the more serious duties of a citizen and a Christian; that the engagements even of the most lowly might afford some leisure for cheerful relaxation; and that religion did not require a course of intense exertion and unbending gravity. The worthy clergyman furnished Martha the means of realizing a plan which her own judgment had devised.
Martha expended the good pastor’s friendly loan in procuring the restoration of their furniture; but she did not as yet bring it home. Her husband had one evening returned without intoxication, and in a temper which promised that the succeeding day would be one of industry. She exerted herself to accomplish her plan at this favourable moment. Before the next evening arrived her cottage was once more neat and comfortable; and the flute, which she had also redeemed, lay upon the table. Harry came in dejected, but his dejection became astonishment as Martha threw her arms around him and pointed to the indications of their future happiness. She confessed the error which had been the original cause of their misery. He felt her generosity, and with bitter tears made a vow of amendment. He was too much affected to take up his flute that evening;--but on the next his wife pressed it upon him. She listened to his performance;--she strove to fancy that she had a taste for music; she praised him. By this effort of kindness on one part, mutual kindness took the place of mutual discomfort. The hour of flute-playing was succeeded by the hour of serious meditation on the divine commands, and of humble prayer before the throne of grace. Their tastes and their pursuits gradually became assimilated. A timely concession saved Martha from hopeless misery, and a timely reformation saved Harry from the wretched life and the miserable death of a vagabond and a drunkard.
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FORKS.
Some of our readers may be surprised to learn that the use of forks at table was not introduced into England earlier than the reign of James the First, and that we derived this piece of refinement from the Italians. The fact appears from the following curious extract from a book entitled, ‘Coryat’s Crudities, hastily gobbled up in five months’ Travells in France, Savoy, Italy, Rhætia (commonly called the Grisons country), Helvetia (alias Switzerland), some parts of High Germany, and the Netherlands.’ The book was first published in 1611. “Here I will mention,” says the traveller, “a thing that might have been spoken of before in discourse of the first Italian towne. I observed a custome in all those Italian cities and townes through the which I passed, that is not used in any other country that I saw in my travels; neither do I think that any other nation of Christendome doth use it, but only Italy. The Italian, and also most strangers that are commorant in Italy, do alwaies at their meales use a little _forke_, when they cut their meate. For while with their knife, which they hold in one hand, they cut the meate out of the dish, they fasten their forke, which they hold in the other hand, upon the same dish. So that whatsoever he be that sitting in the company of any others at meale, should unadvisedly touch the dish of meate with his fingers from which all at the table doe cut, he will give occasion of offence unto the company, as having transgressed the lawes of good manners; insomuch that for his error he shall be at least brow-beaten, if not reprehended in wordes. This forme of feeding, I understand, is generally used in all places in Italy, their forkes being for the most part made of yron or steele, and some of silver; but those are used only by gentlemen. The reason of this their curiosity is, because the Italian cannot by any means indure to have his dish touched with fingers, seeing all men’s fingers are not alike cleane. Hereupon I myself thought good to imitate the Italian fashion by this _forked_ cutting of meate, not only while I was in Italy, but also in Germany, and oftentimes in England since I came home; being once _quipped_ for that frequent using of my forke by a certaine learned gentleman, a familiar friend of mine, one Master Laurence Whitaker, who in his merry humour doubted not at table to call me _Furcifer_[3], only for using a forke at feeding, but for no other cause.”
The use of forks was at first much ridiculed in England, as an effeminate piece of finery; in one of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays, “your fork-carving traveller” is spoken of with much contempt; and Ben Jonson has joined in the laugh against them in his ‘Devil’s an Ass,’ Act V, Scene 4. Meercraft says to Gilthead and Sledge,
“Have I deserved this from you two? for all My pains at Court, to get you each a patent.
_Gilthead._ For what?
_Meercraft._ Upon my project of the _forks_.
_Sledge._ _Forks!_ What be they?
_Meercraft._ The laudable use of forks, Brought into custom here as they are in Italy, To the sparing o’ napkins.”
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Footnote 3:
Furcifer literally meant a slave, who, for punishment of some fault, was made to carry a fork or gallows upon his neck through the city, with his hands tied to it; hence it came to signify generally a rogue, a villain.
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SONNET.