The representation of external forms by their tangible properties, in actual or proportional magnitude, seems the most obvious, as it is the simplest, mode of imitation. Sculpture, therefore, of all the imitative arts, probably first exercised the ingenuity of mankind. Even now, we remark that the rude carvings on the spear-shaft or canoe of the savage warrior surpass other exhibitions of his skill, and might more readily be exalted into tasteful decorations. Hence, in tracing the history of an art which thus appears almost coeval with the earliest formation of society, the chronology of those ancient empires in which it chiefly flourished, will supply an arrangement best adapted to the explanation of the subject.

Regarding the origin of sculptural design, indeed, much has been written, and many theories proposed, each asserting, for some favorite people, the praise of invention. All the kindred arts, however, with which taste and feeling are conversant, have their birth and subsequent improvement, in the same universal principles of the human mind. Principles which mysteriously, yet powerfully, and doubtless for the accomplishment of the wisest ends, connect man with that nature amidst whose haunts he is destined to dwell—which awaken his untutored enthusiasm to her beauties, and unite his individual sympathies, as his social remembrances, with her hallowed associations. It is thus that human action and human suffering find their earliest records in the scenes where the events were transacted. The conflict long continues to revive on its heath; the memory of the chief appropriates the lone vale where he sleeps; woods, mountains, streams, become the representatives of supernatural beings—beneficent or vindictive—as sensations of beauty or of awe are called forth in the mortal breast. The succeeding step is easy to the erection of less durable but more particular memorials. Piety—true in sentiment, false in means—patriotism, friendship, gratitude, admiration, leave the successive impress of their influence, according to the accessions of intelligence, on the 'grey stone'—the rude column—the dressed altar—the visible shape—the perfect statue. How beautiful, then, yet how true, the allegory of Grecian poetry, which feigns that love, or the natural affections, taught man the arts of genius!

The gradations, also, from uninformed art to some degree of refined invention, will present, even among distant nations, little of diversified character. In the infancy of society, men in all countries closely resemble each other, in their feelings, in their wants, in their means of gratification, and improvement. Hence, in the fine arts, which at first among every people minister, with similar resources, to the same natural desires, or mental affections, resemblance of style ought not to be assumed as evidence of continuous imitation from a common origin. Early Egyptian and Grecian statues exhibit almost identical lineaments, and even corresponding attitude; simply, because each had to surmount the same difficulties with nearly equal information.

The tendency of these remarks, especially applicable to sculpture, sufficiently proves that no reliance is to be placed on any theories of its exclusive discovery. Such opinions, however profound they may appear, are in reality the substitution of a partial view of facts, when a general law of our nature is within reach. In treating of the ancient history of sculpture, then, the legitimate objects of inquiry are, its progress, character, and degree of perfection among the different nations of antiquity. But though no claims of any single nation to have imparted the skill to others can be conceded, a very wide disparity of merit is observable, both in the final excellence attained by one people, as respects the relative acquirements of another; and likewise points of equal advance being assumed, the times past in realising this similar improvement are found to be very unequal. These facts, here most easily distinguishable, are pregnant with importance, and invest the history of this art with much of dignity and solemn interest, exhibiting the striking connexion between the intellectual and the political and moral condition of man. The diversity, in truth, is the visible impress which legislation has stamped upon human genius.

Egypt has been styled the cradle of the arts; and, waiving the examination of all disputes as to priority, we prefer commencing with the history of Egyptian sculpture, since its authentic monuments carry us up to a very early date,—are numerous,—and especially, because they tend to unite the scattered lights which doubtful tradition flings over the less perfect remains of Asiatic ingenuity. In pursuing this investigation, we shall observe the following arrangement of the subject.

• Era of original, or native Sculpture.
• Era of mixed, or Greco-Egyptian Sculpture.
• Era of imitative Sculpture, improperly denominated Egyptian.

The first or true age of Sculpture in Egypt, ascends from the invasion of Cambyses to unknown antiquity. During this period only were primitive institutions in full vigour and integrity, and public works, reflecting national taste, conducted by national talent. The two remaining eras, extending downwards through the successive dominion of the Greeks and Romans, have been added, in order to embrace the consideration of topics, which, though remotely connected therewith, have hitherto been regarded as integral parts of the subject. In examining the principles and character of this aboriginal school, there are still left two sources of judging, with sufficient accuracy, the merits of its production,—vestiges of ancient grandeur yet existing on their native site—and the numerous specimens in European cabinets. These remains may be classed under the three following divisions.

• Colossal statues.
• Groups or single figures about the natural size.
• Hieroglyphical and historical relievos.

In the formation of these various labours, four kinds of materials are employed: one soft, a species of sandstone; and three very hard, a calcareous rock, out of which the tombs, with their sculptures, are hewn; basalt or trap, of various shades, from black to dark grey, the constituent generally of the smaller statues; granite, more commonly of the description named by mineralogists granites rubescens, of a warm reddish hue, with large crystals of feld-spar; or it is sometimes, though rarely, of a dark red ground, with black specks, as in the magnificent head, mis-named of Memnon, now in the British Museum. Colossal figures are uniformly of granite, in which also is a large portion of the relievos. Besides these, from the account of Herodotus, as also from the statues of wood actually discovered by modern travellers, we learn that even in great works, the Egyptian sculptors were accustomed to exercise their skill on that less stubborn material. Metal appears to have been sparingly used; at least, only very small figures have yet been found of a composition similar to the bronze of later times. Yet the book of Job especially, and other parts of Scripture, would induce the conclusion, that even colossal figures were, from an early period, cast of metal. In the tombs, as those near Thebes, small images of porcelain and terra cotta are likewise frequent.

I. The number of colossal statues in ancient Egypt, as described by the writers of Greece, would appear incredible, especially when we consider the magnitude of some, and the materials of all, if these early descriptions were not, at the present day, authenticated by countless remains. Yet, than a statue of granite sixty or seventy feet high, there is not, perhaps, one instance more striking, of disregard of time, and patience of toil. Of these mighty labours, some are hewn from the living rock, and left adhering to the natural bed; as the celebrated Sphynx, near the pyramids of Ghizeh, and various sculptures on the rocks of the Thebaid, which look the shadows of giants cast by a declining sun. Others again, as in some of the figures in the Memnonium, appear to have been built; most probably reared first of square blocks, and afterwards fashioned into shape. The greater part, however, are composed of one block, raised in the granite quarries of Upper Egypt, and transported to their destined situation by the waters of the Nile. Of these works, Herodotus, to whose veracity almost every new discovery in these countries adds fresh credibility, saw and has described many, some of which can be identified at the present day, and others, a labour of not many hours promises to bring to light. The dimensions of those actually enumerated, extend from twelve to seventy cubits in height. Some are figures of men; others of animals, chiefly of the Sphynx. These latter appear to have been in considerable numbers, usually ranged in corresponding lines on the opposite side of the approach to the great temples. Of the human colossi, again, some were isolated, and were probably objects of worship; others were merely ornaments, chiefly employed as columns, as in the famous PropylÆon of the Temple of Vulcan, ascribed to Psammetichus, and erected at Memphis. Of the unattached figures, the attitude appears to have exhibited but little action; the posture apparently various, though seldom erect. One is described as recumbent, seventy cubits long, accompanied by two smaller, standing one at each extremity. The largest statues now known, namely, two in the Memnonium at Thebes, are both in a sitting posture. All these works, even the columnar statues, seem to have been connected with religious rites or symbols. This, together with imperfect science, accounts for the striking similarity discoverable in a class, the individuals of which are thus varied, at least in purpose and magnitude. Another peculiarity is, that in Egyptian sculpture, whenever the dimensions are much beyond nature, the head is always larger than even colossal proportions would require. It would be unreasonable to ascribe to ignorance a practice thus universal; it is to be attributed rather to mistaken principle, in order to render the features more conspicuous, when removed to a distance from the eye. Where similar character and design thus pervade the whole class, minuteness of individual description is unnecessary; we may, however, merely refer, as examples best known, to the two Theban colossi already noticed, one of which, from inscriptions still legible, would appear to be the famous sounding statue of Memnon. In each of these figures, exclusive of the lower plinth of the throne, the altitude is fifty feet, the material red granite, and the positions alike—namely, seated, the head looking straight in front, arms close pressed to the sides, palms and forearm extended and resting upon the thighs, lower extremities perpendicular and apart. This posture, which may be described as characteristic of the entire class, is little calculated to convey any sentiment of ease or grace. Yet in these vast, although comparatively uninformed labours, we discover more of the sublime than arises from mere vastness, or even from the recollections of distant time with which their memory is associated. They are invested with a majestic repose—with a grand and solemn tranquillity, which awes without astonishing; and while they exhibit the greatest perfection to which Egyptian art has attained, in colossal statues generally, we discover occasional approaches to truth and nature, with no inconsiderable feeling of the sweet, the unaffected, and the flowing in expression and contour.

II. To the second class belong both the earliest and the latest works of the Egyptian chisel; yet between the worst and the best, is not to be perceived a diversity of merit corresponding to the lapse of time—a certain proof, that the principles of the art were fixed at an early period of its progress, and on grounds independent of its precepts. The first essays in sculpture in Egypt, seem to have been made upon the living rock, in the process of excavating artificial or enlarging natural caverns for the purposes of habitation or devotion, and at every period in Eastern history of sepulture. Statues thus formed, would, from the mode of their formation, not much exceed the natural size; and being afterwards detached when finished, were transferred to other situations. In imitation of these, statues were subsequently hewn, in what became the ordinary manner, from detached blocks. It is not here implied, that these two methods can be distinctly traced in their separate applications, nor that the one was superseded by the other; but simply, that the state of knowledge, and the habits of the people, render very probable the priority of the former. Hence appears an explanation of a singular fact in the history of the art, which has been the subject of much discussion. In every specimen, without exception, which can be ranked as Egyptian, a pilaster runs up the back of the figure, in whatever attitude it may be represented. The origin of a practice not natural, in an art professing to imitate nature, must be sought in some external circumstance of its early history. Now, such circumstance seems plainly discernible in works still remaining, in the excavations of Philoe, Elephantis, Silsilis, and at El Malook, in the tombs of the Theban kings. In these monuments, which are often suites of magnificent chambers hewn from the hard and white calcareous rock, numerous and beautiful remains of sculpture are preserved. These ornaments vary from simple relievos to complete statues. In the latter, the figure is never entirely detached, when placed on the surface of the wall, a posterior portion being always left adhering; while, if formed by cutting round to a recess, a pilaster behind runs up the whole height, evidently with the original view of increasing strength or of saving labour, or from certain religious notions. Subsequently, in detached statues wrought out of blocks from the same, or in part the same motives, and also in order to obtain a surface for the inscription of hieroglyphics, the aboriginal pillar was retained. Generally speaking, the workmanship here is inferior to the details of the colossal figures, although some of the finest specimens belong to this second division. The varieties, however, cannot be referred to any regular gradations of improvement, nor determinate epochas of style, as sometimes attempted. They are the result solely of individual skill in the artists, and of the views, opulence, or purposes of their employers. This difference, also, extends only to the minor details of execution; in the more intellectual principles of art, all are nearly on an equality. Even the design and attitudes are wonderfully limited, the sameness being more uniform than could have been produced, except by the operation of prescriptive rules and fixed models of imitation.

In many of the ancient Egyptian buildings, the whole of the exterior is frequently covered with relievos. This profusion, for the purpose, too, of mere decoration, together with the indefinite nature of hieroglyphical delineation, operated strongly against improvement in this particular province. Indeed, the prejudicial effects arising from an embellishment, in which extent more than intrinsic beauty was regarded, and where arbitrary forms, or mere indications of known objects, precluded all natural imitation, and all delicacy of expression, infected the whole of the art. The general inferiority in works of this third class, is, however, to be understood with due limitation. In relievos, consisting of few figures, sepulchral ones for instance, which in the same piece rarely contain more than three, are often displayed no mean beauties both of execution and of character. In historical relievos, again, which occupy entire walls of the temples, crowded as they are with figures in various actions, processions, battles, sieges, and represented by artists who apparently possessed no principles of design, save a knowledge of simple form in its most restricted movements, all is feebleness, puerility, and confusion. Or if beauty occasionally break forth, it is in some single reposing figure, or in the patient details of execution. In the drawing and anatomy, singular ignorance is manifested; the limbs are without joints, and the movements exhibit neither balance nor spring; proportion and perspective seem to have been utterly unknown. Military engines, buildings, horses, soldiers, all appear of the same dimensions, and all equally near the eye. The hero in all these monuments bears a strong individual resemblance; he is represented ever victorious, in the bloom of youth, and in his figure are sometimes displayed both grandeur and beauty of conception, when considered apart. But these separate excellences are completely obscured by the absurdity of representing him at least double the stature of his followers or opponents. The circumstance of thus confounding moral greatness with physical magnitude, were alone sufficient to mark the infancy of invention, and the barbarism of taste. It is nevertheless only justice to mention, that occasionally, in the historical relievos, we observe rudiments of higher art, with less of convention, and more of freedom of imagination, than in any other Egyptian sculptures.

The praises bestowed upon the hieroglyphics of Egypt by Winkleman and others, must be restricted to the mere workmanship; and even then, are exaggerated or misplaced. Considered as works of art, if indeed they can be elevated to that rank, they will be found entirely destitute of accurate discrimination of form, and are more properly conventional representations, dependent upon modes and principles at once limited and arbitrary. These labours, the probable records of primitive history, and of earliest superstition, are of different kinds. The first in use, though not afterwards superseded, were anaglyphics, in which objects are represented by a simple outline, often traced to the depth of several inches. An obvious improvement upon this was to round the angles, and to relieve the figures upon themselves; a mode which very generally obtains. To this manner much ingenuity and forethought has inconsiderately been ascribed, as if adopted against the attacks of time, and to cast a deeper shadow on the symbols. It is, on the contrary, to be judged merely as the resource of an imperfect art. A third, but comparatively rare method, was to elevate the contour, by reducing the surface both within and without. The last and most laborious plan, was to remove the ground entirely, leaving the figures in proper relief. This, the true relievo, was unknown to or unpractised in the ancient arts of Egypt. Even the historical and monumental sculptures just described, partake more of the anaglyphical than of the elevated relievo. Indeed every specimen of this latter is to be assigned to a later period than the first and genuine age. By attending to this, and to the costume of the figures in the most ancient works, data of importance might be discovered, throwing valuable light on the eras of Egypt's mysterious monuments.

The expression, mixed art, selected to discriminate the second epoch, has been adopted, to mark the successive changes in the ancient modes induced by the Persians and the Greeks. The influence exerted upon art by the dominion of the former, amounted merely to a negative,—to the prohibition of its exercise; which, with the destruction of many of its best monuments, produced a deterioration in the few and feeble attempts during the latter years of that dynasty. Mythraism, in which elemental fire was the symbol of the Deity, proscribed the imitative arts in that service, whence, in all other countries, they have sprung. The Persians, says the father of history, have neither temples nor statues. Or, if architecture was encouraged by these conquerors, evidence still remains that their erections were but modifications of materials torn from the mighty structures of past ages. In little more than a century and a half, the Persian was subverted by the Macedonian empire. Yet even in Alexander, the ancient and native arts of Egypt obtained not a patron. The majestic range of temples, palaces, and cities, which bordered the sacred stream of the Nile, furnished so many quarries, of tempting access, whence Alexandria was reared; and the mightiest, as well as most rational trophy of Grecian superiority, received its grandest and most enduring monuments from the stupendous labours of the first age. His successors followed the example; and although, under them, the polished literature of Greece, united with her own subtile philosophy, constituted Alexandria the Athens of the East, yet in sculpture, in architecture, and in religion, to which both were subordinate, the character remained essentially Egyptian, but with certain deviations and additions.

The Roman dominion finally introduced new modifications, or rather mutations, of the ancient art. This epoch may be considered as commencing with the introduction of the Isiac mysteries at Rome; although the principal features by which, as a division in the history of art, it is distinguished, are not decidedly marked prior to the reign of Hadrian. The works of the third, or imitative era, have, in strict propriety, no real connexion with Egyptian sculpture, farther than as it multiplied copies of the ancient forms, with occasional accessions of elegance. During a residence of two years in the East, and by the deification there of his favorite Antinous, Hadrian imbibed a fondness for the arts, and particularly for the statuary of Egypt. But the works which he commanded were in all respects Roman, or rather Grecian, under Egyptian modes. They were indeed most scrupulously modelled after the most ancient and authentic specimens; even the materials were brought from the native quarries, but the sculptors were Greeks or Italians; and the Grecian character of design is visible in every remaining specimen, the merits of which require notice. Nothing, therefore, can be more futile, than from the works of this age to infer the merits or principles of native and ancient art. So far, indeed, does our scepticism here extend, that we doubt if a single statue of genuine and ancient Egyptian workmanship is to be found among the numbers that have been discovered in Italy, and with which Hadrian filled that portion of the empire.

The general conclusion, then, from these remarks, is, that there is but one period of real Egyptian sculpture, and that the genius and character of this indigenous and aboriginal art is to be discovered only in the most ancient monuments, having suffered various changes under the Greeks and under the Romans. In establishing this inference, we have not been guided by the often fanciful, always deceitful, analogies discoverable in the fluctuating style and varying productions of imitation, but have viewed these as directed by the steady operation of the laws and institutions of society, which govern the spirit and tendency of the arts themselves. During an interval of nearly twenty centuries previous to the era of Alexander, though diligently cultivated, sculpture had hardly attained any of the nobler qualities of invention. The system of taste and of government was in fact hostile to improvement in this art beyond a certain limit, or upon any principles, save those fixed on the very threshold of knowledge. The national polity, which will ever be found to guide the national taste, induced a preference of the immense and the durable; hence the grandeur of Egyptian architecture: but in statuary, such a character of design necessarily produced figures rigid and motionless. The essential elements of the grand and the beautiful—breadth and simplicity, are indeed present, but the effect is rarely elicited. The simple is seldom inspired by any feeling of the true, the natural, or the graceful; breadth, unrelieved by symmetry of parts, or expression of details, degenerates into inert magnitude. The colossal forms are the records only of power, of patience, and of labour; not the creations of intelligence and of genius. Sculpture also suffered from peculiar obstacles to its progress. Exclusively attached to the service of religion, its representations were confined to divinities, priests, and kings; personages whose modes and lineaments were unalterably fixed—fixed, too, from types, frequently of the most hideous description, at least ill managed, and little adapted to the objects or spirit of the art. This religion likewise admitted no images of human virtue or sympathy to mingle with its cold obstructions; thus denying to the Egyptian arts a source, which, to those of Greece, proved one of the richest and sweetest veins of ideal composition. The artist, therefore, even had he been allowed to depart from established but imperfect models, possessed no ennobling source whence to create new models of beauty or of grandeur. Imagination wanted materials, which neither the prescribed subject nor living nature, under these restrictions, could supply. Again, sculpture not only laboured under the general disadvantage of hereditary and unchanging professions; a national regulation which repressed every fortunate predilection of genius, but as a security against the possibility of innovation, slaves, educated under the immediate care of the priests, were entrusted with the execution of the most sacred, and, consequently, most important monuments.

In Egyptian sculpture, thus properly understood, little will be discovered of that excellence which has been attributed to its remains. Still there are to be found some first principles of true science; and these are occasionally developed with considerable beauty of detail; always with patient, but inefficient technicality. It is by no means apparent, however, that by the masters of these early ages any theory was observed; certainly the occasional refinement seems rather the result of accident or of individual superiority, than of systematic perceptions, or of transmitted precept. Their best statues have an elevation of seven hands and a half, being divided equally, the torso and limbs having the same length. These proportions are pleasing, and borrowed directly from nature; but they show nothing of that characteristic beauty of physical art, which, in the varied harmony of parts, indicates the capabilities of form. A similar principle regulates the details, which, though brought out with considerable propriety and softness, are yet without precision or anatomical knowledge, especially of internal structure,—the heads of the bones, the insertions and terminations of the muscles, never being correctly indicated. Hence the forms appear coarse and inelegant, the limbs heavy and inert, because without vigorous marking on the joints, where the deeper depressions only and the strongest projections are aimed at, not feelingly touched. The attitude, also, is constantly rectilinear, denoting that condition of the art when poverty of source limits its reach of the beautiful by the difficulties of execution. It is, in fact, the first choice of invention rendered permanent by prescriptive institutions. From the curve being thus unknown in the contour, the action is necessarily angular in its direction, unless the movement be parallel to the gravitating line of the figure. Hence the range of action and of attitude is very circumscribed; the arms either hanging close by the sides or crossed at right angles on the breast; or, as a slight variation, one is placed in each posture. Lateral movements in like manner are limited, the statue standing equally poised on both limbs, the feet not exactly opposite, one being in advance, often almost in front of the other. Whether erect, sitting, or kneeling, the action is the same: hence, little of grace or animation of movement is to be found even in the most perfect works; yet there is often to be remarked a grave and staid serenity, neither unpleasing nor devoid of interest. As in the selection of attitude, however, the artist has been guided, not by the beautiful, but by his own timidity and confined resources; so in expression, little beyond a vague and general emotion has been attempted; seldom more, indeed, than might be produced by the symmetrical arrangement of the features. These are flat, the countenance being Ethiopian, and are just sufficiently distinguished for the effect of separation; the depth of shadow is wanting to give contrast and firmness. The eyes, whether long and narrow, the peculiar characteristic of the earliest era, or more full and open, as in the Greco-Egyptian period, are nearly on the general level of the face; the nose is broad and depressed, the lips thick, and always sharp on the outer edge, though often touched with great softness and delicacy; the cheeks, chin, and ears, are large, ill made out, and without feeling. Hence, although the heads are often finished with wonderful labour, the effect is always feeble, while the whole is uniformly surmounted by harsh and disproportionate masses of drapery, overpowering the already too weak expression. The superior beauty of some of the colossal busts may perhaps be rightly attributed to their having been executed as portraits. Conventional art, even in the most skilful hands, is rarely pleasing; nature, even rudely imitated, is ever viewed with a degree of pleasure.

On the methods employed to work materials so unyielding as those of the Egyptian sculptors, it is difficult to propose any decided opinion. On their porphyry, granite, and basalt, modern tools can hardly make impression; yet are the forms, in all instances, highly finished, with angles sharp and unbroken. The latter circumstance, indeed, constitutes a peculiar feature in the works of this country as distinguished from Oriental art generally, which, together with breadth and simplicity, brings them nearest the productions of the Grecian chisel. From the style of execution, however, it would appear that the effect has been brought out rather by patience and labour, than by rapid or dexterous management. In fact, the general character has been influenced not a little by the materials; for in the statues of wood, both as described and discovered, the action is bolder, and the manner more free. If a conjecture may be hazarded on the subject of their theory, it would seem that the Egyptians, in the infancy of their arts, were guided by an outline traced round a human figure, dead or alive, extended upon the block, face upwards, with the arms close by the sides, and the limbs placed together exactly as their statues are composed. The scattered details given in the Greek writers respecting the arts of this ancient people, have indeed induced the belief, that they were acquainted with much more refined canons of symmetry; but it ought to have been observed, that Diodorus and others describe the practices existing in their own times, when Egypt had, to a certain extent, become the pupil of Greece. In some respects, also, it is difficult to give implicit credit to their accounts, at least in the common interpretation. It is farther particularly to be observed, that the supposition now made will account for the correctness of the general proportions which would thus be obtained from nature; likewise no theory of proportional parts can be detected different from the results thus obtainable, while those details which a refined theory would preserve, but which could not by such method be measured, are defective.

We have been thus minute and critical in these investigations for two reasons: from Egypt certainly descended the first principles of improvement to Western art, while no less evidently did the Eastern world derive its entire knowledge from the same source. Consequently, in carefully examining that of the Egyptians, the best account, deduced too from monuments actually observed, has been given of Oriental Sculpture generally. Of the mighty empires, indeed, which once embraced the happiest regions of Asia and of the globe, a name, or at most a shapeless mass of ruins, alone remain. Of Jewish art, the sole memorials in existence are the sculptured transcripts on the arch of Titus. But every description in the sacred records, from the calf of the wilderness to the twelve oxen of the molten sea, or the lions of the throne of Solomon, evinces the taste of the former bondsmen of Pharaoh, and of him who was skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians; at the same time we learn that the Israelites quickly departed from the severe and simple grandeur of the parent source. Moving eastward: Baalbec's gigantic masonry is adorned with little of sculpture; the lonely Palmyra exhibits only Roman ruins, for the Tadmor of Scripture has long disappeared; the pillared Persepolis claims a remoter antiquity; but the Pelhavi and arrowheaded inscriptions, instead of hieroglyphics, show comparatively recent, and the innumerable and beautiful sculptures, display certain traits of the Grecian school. They cannot be older than Cyrus, but most probably belong to the age of his successors. The mysterious monuments of Hindustan alone seem to claim an equal or more ancient date compared with the labours we have surveyed. Their nature, also, is the same; hence there are not wanting names of highest eminence, who have maintained not only the greater antiquity of Indian art, but that thence has been derived all other, as from the parent source. This opinion has been grounded too exclusively on the dubious inferences of philology, or of mere antiquarian erudition,—dubious, at least, when applied to Sculpture. Here the subject itself ought to supply the true principles of decision; and on this point one observation will suffice. The sculpture, like the architecture, of Egypt, bears the impress of uniform simplicity; the grand lines of composition are few, accessories are sparingly introduced, and wear the same sober, massive, and unpretending character. In the works of Asiatic art, on the contrary, although presenting a general resemblance to those of Egypt, the design is neither simple nor uniform; the parts are numerous, breaking the master lines into multiplied compartments, while the style of ornament is replete with complicated details, and of pretension above the means of the artist. Now, judging according to the natural inferences from these facts, and according to the acknowledged precepts of imitative art, this latter style, with its defects in keeping, has evidently arisen in consequence of superinducing a laboured and injudiciously aspiring taste upon the more severe and simple conceptions of a primitive composition. Similar principles may be obviously traced in the farther progress of the arts eastward. China is admitted, on the most learned authorities, to have been planted by colonists from the banks of the Indus and the Ganges; and in the unchanging modes of that country, we seem almost to catch glimpses of the aboriginal knowledge of our race. Yet how striking the difference between the ornate and the frittered labours of the Chinese compared with the works either of India or of Egypt! Even their great wall is but the accumulation of petty exertions—an evidence of numerical, not of scientific energy.