standing figures of all periods:  the left leg is advanced; both feet are planted flat on the ground; body and head face squarely forward.  The only deviation from the most usual type is in the left arm, which is bent at the elbow, that the hand may grasp the staff of office.  More often the arms both hang at the sides, the hands clenched, as in the admirable limestone figure of the priest, Ra-nofer (Fig. 3).

The cross-legged scribe of the Louvre (Fig. 4) illustrates another and less stereotyped attitude.  This figure was found in the tomb of one Sekhem-ka, along with two statues of the owner and a group of the owner, his wife, and son.  The scribe was presumably in the employ of Sekhem-ka.  The figure is of limestone, the commonest material for these sepulchral statues, and, according to the unvarying practice, was completely covered with color, still in good preservation.  The flesh is of a reddish brown, the regular color for men.  The eyes are similar to those of the Sheikh-el-Beled.  The man is seated with his legs crossed under him; a strip of papyrus, held by his left hand, rests upon his lap; his right hand held a pen.

The head shown in Fig. 5 belongs to a group, if we may give that name to two figures carved from separate blocks of limestone and seated stiffly side by side.  Egyptian sculpture in the round never created a genuine, integral group, in which two or more figures are so combined that no one is intelligible without the rest; that achievement was reserved for the Greeks.  The lady in this case was a princess; her husband, by whom she sits, a high priest of Heliopolis.  She is dressed in a long, white smock, in which there is no indication of folds.  On her head is a wig, from under which, in front, her own hair shows.  Her flesh is yellow, the conventional tint for women, as brownish red was for men.  Her eyes are made of glass.

The specimens given have been selected with the purpose of showing the sculpture of the Old Empire at its best.  The all-important fact to notice is the realism of these portraits.  We shall see that Greek sculpture throughout its great period tends toward the typical and the ideal in the human face and figure.  Not so in Egypt.  Here the task of the artist was to make a counterfeit presentment of his subject and he has achieved his task at times with marvelous skill.  Especially the heads of the best statues have an individuality and lifelikeness which have hardly been surpassed in any age.  But let not our admiration blind us to the limitations of Egyptian art.  The sculptor never attains to freedom in the posing of his figures.  Whether the subject sits, stands, kneels, or squats, the body and head always face directly forward.  And we look in vain for any appreciation on the sculptor’s part of the beauty of the athletic body or of the artistic possibilities of drapery.

There is more variety of pose in the painted bas-reliefs with which the walls of the mastaba chapels are covered.  Here are scenes of agriculture, cattle-tending, fishing, bread-making, and so on, represented with admirable vivacity, though with certain fixed conventionalities of style.  There are endless entertainment and instruction for us in these pictures of old Egyptian life.  Yet no more here than in the portrait statues do we find a feeling for beauty of form or a poetic, idealizing touch.