Egyptian architects were not gifted with a fine feeling for structural propriety or unity.  A few of their small temples are simple and coherent in plan and fairly tasteful in details.  But it is significant that a temple could always be enlarged by the addition of parts not contemplated in the original design.  The result in such a case was a vast, rambling edifice, whose merits consisted in the imposing character of individual parts, rather than in an organic and symmetrical relation of parts to whole.

Statues of the New Empire are far more numerous than those of any other period, but few of them will compare in excellence with the best of those of the Old Empire.  Colossal figures of kings abound, chiseled with infinite patience from granite and other obdurate rocks.  All these and others may be passed over in order to make room for a statue in the Louvre (Fig. 11), which is chosen, not because of its artistic merits, but because of its material and its subject.  It is of bronze, somewhat over three feet in height, thus being the largest Egyptian bronze statue known.  It was cast in a single piece, except for the arms, which were cast separately and attached.  The date of it is in dispute, one authority assigning it to the Eighteenth Dynasty and another bringing it down as late as the seventh century B.C.  Be that as it may, the art of casting hollow bronze figures is of high antiquity in Egypt.  The figure represents a hawk-headed god, Horus, who once held up some object, probably a vase for libations.  Egyptian divinities are often represented with the heads of animals—­ Anubis with the head of a jackal, Hathor with that of a cow, Sebek with that of a crocodile, and so on.  This in itself shows a lack of nobility in the popular theology.  Moreover it is clear that the best talents of sculptors were engaged upon portraits of kings and queens and other human beings, not upon figures of the gods.  The latter exist by the thousand, to be sure, but they are generally small statuettes, a few inches high, in bronze, wood, or faience.  And even if sculptors had been encouraged to do their best in bodying forth the forms of gods, they would hardly have achieved high success.  The exalted imagination was lacking.

Among the innumerable painted bas-reliefs covering the walls of tombs and temples, those of the great Temple of Abydos in Upper Egypt hold a high place.  One enthusiastic art critic has gone so far as to pronounce them “the most perfect, the most noble bas-reliefs ever chiseled.”  A specimen of this work, now, alas! more defaced than is here shown, is given in Fig. 12.  King Seti I. of the Nineteenth Dynasty stands in an attitude of homage before a seated divinity, of whom almost nothing appears in the illustration.  On the palm of his right hand he holds a figure of Maat, goddess of truth.  In front of him is a libation-standard, on which rests a bunch of lotus flowers, buds, and leaves.  The first remark to be made about this work is that it