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Wellesley, long tost on fortune's waves,' bequeaths to Eton his aged dust." * It is impossible, however, nowadays to have in the heart of London a college like Oriel, or Eton, or Schulpforta. Exports and imports' have edged Tacitus's 'loci dulcedo' into the suburbs, and education, if it is to be in accordance with the best English traditions, must follow and go out of town. The Charterhouse and Merchant Taylors' School have already done so. The original 'Quartier Latin' was the Pratum of Alcuin, stretching along the south bank of the Seine, the name of which survives in that of the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés. The great university was in the Middle Ages a wholesome rus in urbe. The students took their walks among vineyards and gardens. If, instead of laying the blame on the classics, the French Republic could remove its young barbarians out of the reach of the temptations of Paris, and in a paroxysm of Anglomania naturalise the foreign institution of proctors, it might rear a generation of citizens more qualified than the present to 'serve God in Church and State.'
The success of the Technical College-that handsome redbrick building near the Albert Hall-may well embolden the projectors of this scheme.t Technology' thirteen years ago was a Swiss or German article. We were the greatest manufacturing nation in the world, and perhaps the most inventive, but we had fallen into a bad habit of depending too exclusively on our coal and iron, and bestowing too little thought on the applied sciences which enable us to extract money from them. In 1873 the Clothworkers' Company founded a school for the promotion of textile industries on scientific principles in connexion with the Yorkshire College, the college which we have mentioned, at Leeds. This was the small beginning. In 1875 Mr. Gladstone made one of his eloquent speeches in which he said that it was especially
'Fortunæ rerumque vagis exercitus undis,
In gremium redeo, serus, Etona, tuum.
Auspice te didici puer; atque in limine vitæ
Siqua meum vitæ decursæ gloria nomen
Auxerit, aut aliquis nobilitarit honor,
Muneris, alma, tui est. Altrix da terra sepulcrum,
See Edinburgh Review,' April 1868, vol. cxxvii., 'Technical and Scientific Education.'
' desirable that efforts should be made to give instruction in science so as to improve the knowledge of the British ' artist and workman and enable him to hold his position in the markets of the world.' The seed fell on a rich soil; others of the London companies came forward. They thought of the emblems in their arms, of the ship in the Mercers' crest, of the camel laden with spices which marks the Grocers', and the bales of wool which mark the Drapers' ancient connexion with commerce and industry. They found that the St. Gothard tunnel and the splendid bridges which span the Rhine and the Moselle were the work of persevering German artisans carefully trained in 'technology,' and that Swiss artisans better grounded than ours in chemistry were beating us in the manufacture of colours. They determined that, if money could buy the proper instruction, England should no longer be at a disadvantage. The result has been the foundation and endowment at a vast expense of this City and Guilds Technical Institute,' of Finsbury Technical College, of technical professorships at the London colleges, of technical schools at Manchester, Nottingham, Middlesborough, Sheffield, Leicester, Bolton, Bradford, and other provincial towns, and of a system of technical examinations which for range of the practical acquirements tested may be compared to the subdivisions of science and letters which are examined in by the University of London. Zurich and Hanover are, it is said, fast becoming envious. And this work has not cost the State a penny; but the practical necessity for it had become obvious, as obvious as, when admitted, was its claim on the resources of these stately corporations.
We have, we trust, sufficiently expressed our sympathy with the more practical part of the movement in favour of a Teaching University of London. We look for good results from the colleges which, under the influence of the same ideas, have been established and liberally endowed in the great provincial towns. We hope to see Liverpool* and
*The Senate of University College, Liverpool, has just taken the very practical step of arranging a special course of study for young men preparing for a business life. They are to enter at sixteen, and are to pursue their studies for two years at an expense to their parents of from 201. to 271. a year. It is a remarkable and most encouraging fact that this scheme is receiving energetic support from more than 250 companies and firms in the great port, many of them bearing names honourably associated with the best traditions of English commerce and enterprise.
Manchester forgetting for a moment the ship canal and the 'corner' in the cotton trade in order to hear Ritschl's last word on Latin inscriptions. Culture has more friends there than in America, but they have not had a Harvard or a Yale to act as a loadstone to bring them together, like the brilliant society which hung round Emerson. The task of the Teaching University of London must be different. Its professors will rarely be the leaders of society. But they may bring the higher kinds of learning within the reach of a larger number of novices than has often been initiated. Who knows also but that they may add to the sum of knowledge and cause their countrymen to value more highly a life of humble devotion to its acquirement? Between Oxford and Cambridge and the new institution, should Lord Reay's dream be realised, there need be no jealousy. The old universities will always hold their own. A fire may come out of the bramble, but it will not, as in Jotham's parable, consume the cedars of Lebanon.
ART. X.-1. Œuvres choisies de A. J. Letronne. Edites par .E. FAGNAN. Vol. ii. Paris: 1881.
2. Modern Egypt and Thebes. By Sir GARDNER WILKINSON. 2 vols. London: 1843.
3. Corpus Inscriptionum Græcarum. Edidit AUG. BOECKH. Vol. iii. Berlin: 1853.
4. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum. Edidit THEOD. MOMMSEN. Vol. iii. pars 1. Berlin: 1863.
ONG before the dahabeah enters upon the great sweep of river that skirts the pylons of Karnak, the traveller has strained his eye to discover whatever traces may be visible of the once mighty city, the metropolis of an empire, and the mausoleum of its kings-Egyptian Thebes. How much or how little will be remaining of the hundred templetowers, the shrines and statues and obelisks without number, the avenues of sphinxes, the princely palaces and fortresses, the sculptured courts and colonnades? On the eastern bank the ruins of Karnak stand up in solid and monumental grandeur; but on the western the eye wanders over the level expanse that stretches to the foot of the hills, without at first encountering more than a few confused heaps or mounds, scarcely distinguishable from the sand which surrounds them. Presently, however, our gaze is arrested by
two dark objects, situated at a greater distance from the river than the ruins already observed, and differing from them both in appearance and elevation. They seem to rise up like twin martellos or watch towers from the desert, and to stand apart in melancholy solitude. The spectacle is strange and puzzling, and for a moment our imagination is at a loss for a key. Suddenly it flashes upon us that the two mysterious objects which have excited our astonishment are none other than the famed Colossi of Thebes-the Vocal Memnon and his mute companion.
A walk of a little over a mile from the river bank brings us to the base of the statues. As we approach them through the allotments of clover and maize, they loom up higher and higher, until, as we stand at their feet, their stupendous shapes almost exclude the sky. Placed on the very fringe of the cultivated soil, where the furthermost Nile deposit is cut short by the first wave of sand, they stand between the dead and the living, and seem like two grim sentinels stationed to guard the entrance to the desert behind. At other times, when the inundations are abroad and the surrounding country is turned into a sea, they tower with an even greater solemnity above the waters. The Nile stretches in an unbroken level from its own channel till it washes their pedestals and laves their massive feet. How vividly do we realise the prophet's description of populous No, that 6 was situate among the rivers, that had the waters round ' about it, whose rampart was the sea, and her wall was 'from the sea'!* It is under these conditions and at sunset that the pair should be seen. Then, as the glowing disc sinks behind the hills that inclose the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings and the dwindling radiance of the heavens is repeated in the mirror of the flood, they brood like huge black spectres over the darkening scene. Blacker and huger each moment they become, their monstrous shadows thrown forward upon the lake, till at length even the afterglow has faded, and, still as death themselves, they fitly preside over the deadly stillness of the Southern night.
A closer inspection enhances rather than detracts from the majesty of the images. They are planted fifty-four feet apart, and face towards the south-south-east. Each represents a colossal male figure seated upon a throne, which is itself supported by a pedestal. Though the faces of both have been hacked out of all human resemblance, yet the shape
* Nahum iii. 8.
less blocks of stone seem endowed with an indefinable sentience, as if, though bereft even of the similitude of human features, their sight could pierce the endless vistas of space and time. The arms are attached to the sides and recline upon the stalwart thighs; the hands, with fingers outstretched and turned slightly inwards, are placidly disposed upon the knees; the legs, like two mighty columns, rest against the throne and lift up the lap of the colossus to the sky. The whole attitude is that of a giant who has sat himself down to take his repose after the fatigues and turmoil of successful war. The height of the figures is fifty-one feet without, and sixty-four feet with, the pedestal; but of the latter six feet are now buried beneath the accumulations left by the Nile. Before these had been formed, and when the pedestals were bare to their foundations, when, further, each head was framed in the full spreading wig of the Egyptian Pharaohs, and when the faces and bodies were intact, the impression produced must have been such as could be felt rather than described.
Everyone knows that these statues are effigies of the same king-Amunoph, or Amenhotep, or Amenophis III., one of the most famous sovereigns and conquerors of the Eighteenth Dynasty, who reigned at Thebes about 1,500 B.C. The cartouches on the backs of both figures contain his name. Known, too, is the name of the architect-the same as that of the royal master who delighted to do him honour -Amenhotep, son of Hapu, whose own statue, richly adorned with inscriptions, is in the Boulak collection at Cairo. Thereon we read
'For my lord the King was created the monument of sandstone. Thus did I according to that which seemed best in my own eyes, causing to be made two images of a noble hard stone in his likeness in this his great building, which is like unto heaven. . . . After this manner made I perfect the King's images, wonderful for their breadth, lofty in their height, the stature whereof made the gate-tower to look small. Forty cubits was their measure. In the glorious sandstone
Taking the cubit to be the ordinary cubit of 18 inches, this corresponds fairly well with the actual height given above. Others, reckoning by the royal cubit of 20 inches, have made the original height 69 feet, and accounted for the difference by supposing that the heads were once surmounted with the pshent or duplicate crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, so frequent a feature in colossal representations of the Pharaohs. It is probable, however, that these figures were without the pshent, both because no trace of it is observable upon the head of the southern or unrepaired colossus, and because there were