Most museums are poor in statues of the Memphite school; France and Egypt possess, however, some twenty specimens which suffice to ensure it an honourable place in the history of art.  At the Louvre we have the “Cross-legged Scribe,"[44] and the statues of Skemka and Pahurnefer; at Gizeh there are the “Sheikh el Beled"[45] and his wife, Khafra[46], Ranefer, the Prince and General Rahotep, and his wife, Nefert, a “Kneeling Scribe,” and a “Cross-legged Scribe.”  The original of the “Cross-legged Scribe” of the Louvre was not a handsome man (fig. 185), but the vigour and fidelity of his portrait amply compensate for the absence of ideal beauty.  His legs are crossed and laid flat to the ground in one of those attitudes common among Orientals, yet all but impossible to Europeans.  The bust is upright, and well balanced upon the hips.  The head is uplifted.  The right hand holds the reed pen, which pauses in its place on the open papyrus scroll.  Thus, for six thousand years he has waited for his master to go on with the long-interrupted dictation.  The face is square-cut, and the strongly-marked features indicate a man in the prime of life.  The mouth, wide and thin-lipped, rises slightly towards the corners, which are lost in the projecting muscles by which it is framed in.  The cheeks are bony and lank; the ears are thick and heavy, and stand out well from the head; the thick, coarse hair is cut close above the brow.  The eyes, which are large and well open, owe their lifelike vivacity to an ingenious contrivance of the ancient artist.  The orbit has been cut out from the stone, the hollow being filled with an eye composed of enamel, white and black.  The edges of the eyelids are of bronze, and a small silver nail inserted behind the iris receives and reflects the light in such wise as to imitate the light of life.  The contours of the flesh are somewhat full and wanting in firmness, as would be the case in middle life, if the man’s occupation debarred him from active exercise.  The forms of the arm and back are in good relief; the hands are hard and bony, with fingers of somewhat unusual length; and the knees are sculptured with a minute attention to anatomical details.  The whole body is, as it were, informed by the expression of the face, and is dominated by the attentive suspense which breathes in every feature.  The muscles of the arm, of the bust, and of the shoulder are caught in half repose, and are ready to return at once to work.  This careful observance of the professional attitude, or the characteristic gesture, is equally marked in the Gizeh Cross-legged Scribe, and in all the Ancient Empire statues which I have had an opportunity of studying.

The Cross-legged Scribe of Gizeh (fig. 186) was discovered by M. de Morgan at Sakkarah in the beginning of 1893.  This statue exhibits a no less surprising vigour and certainty of intention and execution on the part of the sculptor than does its fellow of the Louvre, while representing a younger man of full, firm, and supple figure.